#Tolkien i'm in your walls

[group-dynamic]

Bartender: Hey, man, how's it going?

Me: Yeah, you know, it's good. Just thinking about how Gil Galad's kingship was haunted by Elrond. Like his first great failure after being crowned when he'd barely come of age was showing up too late to stop the destruction of Sirion. How he probably felt a deep personal responsibility to find Elwing's missing boys at least but couldn't even do that. Like, I know he probably got redirected by Cirdan toward all those refugees and stuff, but he probably really wanted a win, especially because he was kinda orphaned by then himself and knew how cruel fate was to the sons of greater destiny. Like all his family who'd been king before him died, like, horrifically? And then when Elrond returns all fine and he comes to Lindon and he's chosen the fate of the elves, Gil Galad's physically haunted by him again. See, but this time he chooses to be haunted by Elrond. Because I think he wants to fix what he sees as his first great failure by restoring a bright future for this kid which was robbed from him when Sirion fell--and it's probably like he wants better for him than what he got, too, because he got this kingship in exile thrust upon him when all he was doing was hanging out with Cirdan making ships or something with the other non-combatants and refugees like he and his mother who were fleeing war and violence and he was like fourth in line to the throne so he probably found out in one fell swoop that all his family's dead and oh, you're king and your destiny's out of your hands. So he's like, I'll make Elrond herald and give him all the experience and guidance on this leadership stuff I never got while also giving him better control of what kind of future he has. Then--get this--he never even marries or has kids and when his reign is coming to an end. . . Which, by the way, he probably foresaw his own death which is fucked-- because he gives Elrond his ring before the war of the last alliance, metaphorically making him his heir and also giving him the opportunity to shape his future. . .Yeah, yeah, cause Elrond wouldn't have been considered suitable to be a lord or a king or anything after he was raised by wolves the sons of Feanor. So when Gil made him herald it was like helping him gain political experience and any status he lost. So anyway, then Gil Galad dies, but in some ways he's spent a greater part of his life dedicated to the act of restoring Elrond to the path he should have been on in an alternate reality where he was raised as Earendil and Elwing's son and like correcting that first failure--but also changing Elrond's fate because Elrond has the ring, like, he literally has Gil Galad's legacy and power in his hands, something he wouldn't have had (or needed?) before. But he decides he won't be king. He'll use that power to guard the place that fulfills the legacies of both him and Gil Galad. He's rebuilt the home he lost, something Gil Galad was trying to give him, and then he makes it a place for all the orphans and the wounded and the refugees--like he even fosters a bunch of future orphan kings and like--

Bartender: Like the ending of Hamilton?

Me: *mumbling into my empty glass* Yeah, exactly like the ending of Hamilton.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 1, Unarmed - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Mild language, Bucky and Reader being Tolkien nerds, light fluff, mention of rabies (it's a super scary disease and we should all be vigilant, okay?!)

Word Count: 1.6k

Previously On...: You just had the pleasure of meeting the very handsome Bucky Barnes. Despite a little bit of awkwardness during your first encounter, you have a feeling your life is about to get a lot more interesting now that he's been introduced into it.

A/N: You know what? I said I wasn't going to do this, but I thought "fuck it!" and decided to post all of Chapter 1: Unarmed. My anxiety is too high to just sit on it. So, please enjoy Ch1. Pt2! Pts 3 & 4 to follow!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

The next evening, you were making your way back to your suite after a productive, albeit exhausting, day in your lab. You were working on a crisis prediction real-time monitoring system to anticipate global threats. You were convinced it would allow the Avengers to respond to trouble faster, but perfecting the privacy algorithm had been an absolute pain in the ass, and you still hadn't gotten it quite right. Technically, you could have farmed the project off to a subordinate; hell, even a team of subordinates of a subordinate, but this was one of your pet projects and you insisted on being hands-on in its development.

You had your tablet open as you walked, chewing on your thumb and reviewing the dataset from the run of your latest algorithm model one more time. Closer, but not good enough. If you were going to convince Tony that this was a program worth implementing, especially at its projected cost, everything had to be perfect. "Damn it," you muttered to yourself.

You rounded the corner and ran smack into Bucky's chest, dropping your tablet and causing him to drop the three books he'd been holding under his remaining arm. "Oh, shit-- I'm so sorry," you uttered as you bent down to retrieve the dropped items. Bucky leaned down to assist you, but you waved him off.

"’S my fault; I've got it," you told him, piling up his books for him. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Bucky leaned up against the wall and chuckled while you stood up and handed the books back to him. "I doubt you could hurt me," he said, smiling softly. "No offense."

You let out a small laugh. "None taken." He was a super soldier, after all. Stealing a glance at book spines, you couldn't suppress the smile that crossed your face. "Lord of the Rings," you nodded appreciatively. "Have you read them before?"

Bucky looked down at the books tucked under his arm. "No, first time. I read The Hobbit back when it was first published in '37, but these didn't come out until after..." he trailed off, but you knew what he meant. After he'd been abducted and brainwashed, turned into a murderer.

You nodded in understanding. "I'm actually really excited for you," you told him. "What I wouldn't give to be able to read them again for the first time."

"You a Tolkien fan, then?" he asked you. When you nodded, he continued: "When I finish them, maybe we can talk about them sometime? Steve's not really into fantasy."

"Yeah, I'd like that," you said. "If you're interested, we could watch the movies. I'll warn you though; they're long as hell, but their masterpieces. I mean, they didn't need to turn The Hobbit into three separate films, but still, they'll blow your fucking mind."

Bucky ran his tongue over his lower lip and you couldn't help but follow the motion with your eyes. "That sounds like fun," he said, his eyes twinkling with... something. "Your place or mine?" Was he… flirting with you?

"How 'bout you finish the books first, then we'll talk logistics," you teased. "Hey, speaking of, what floor did they end up putting you on?"

"Um, this one, actually," he said, tilting his head toward a nearby door.

"No shit," you remarked, laughingly. "You must have done something to piss Rogers off, because he put you right across the hall from me."

Bucky looked down, scuffing the toe of his boot against the carpeting. "He said it was the quietest floor, thought I'd prefer that."

You pursed your lips, considering. "Yeah, that makes sense; it's just been me on this level for ages. It'll be nice to have some company for a change."

Bucky looked surprised. "Stark's kept you down here all by your lonesome? That doesn't seem very nice."

You shook your head and dismissed his concern with a wave. "Oh, no-- Tony hates that I still live down here, actually. He put in all new living quarters a few years back. Everyone migrated upstairs, but I was the only one who didn't want to move."

"Why's that?" Bucky asked, appearing genuinely interested.

"I've lived here since I graduated college," you admitted, "back when it was still just Stark Tower. When Tony relocated here from Malibu to rebrand it for the Avengers, he wanted to redo everything, which meant fancy new suites for everybody. But I love my rooms, so I asked to stay put. They've been my home for so long now and I guess I just like the stability, you know?"

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "And Tony thinks highly enough of you that he let the blow to his ego slide?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I have enough dirt on him that he felt like he didn't have much of a choice." You snorted, not able to keep up the pretense. "No, but seriously, I know you and Tony have a complicated... history, but he's not a bad guy. Ego as tall as this Tower, yes, definitely, but he's also incredibly kind and generous. He paid for my entire college education-- undergrad, post-grad, doctorate. I owe everything I have to him."

Bucky shifted against the wall. "That is pretty generous. And he never expected anything from you in return?" He didn't say the words out loud, but the implication was there. Had you slept with Tony in exchange for your diplomas? The innuendo should have bothered you, but it had been posed to you so many times over the years, you'd stopped being offended by it. Before Pepper, Tony had had quite the  reputation, after all, and an MIT education didn’t exactly come cheap. Most people couldn’t understand why he would offer a full ride to someone who, at the time, had been a complete stranger.

"Tony appreciates talent," you clarified. "When he finds it, he cultivates it, nourishes it, does everything he can to help it grow to its fullest potential. But he does like to get a return on his investments, and my skills have helped him make a lot of money." You shrugged your shoulders with a chuckle. "I love my job, I love the work we do, I love the stupid weirdo family we've built here, so I've always considered meeting Tony to be the best thing that ever happened to me. He's kind of like my own fairy godfather."

"So, what exactly does he have you do around here?" Bucky asked. "I know Steve said you did computer stuff, but you said it was an over-simplification."

You ran a hand up to rub the back of your neck while you considered your answer. How best to explain your position to someone who was born before the invention of the television? "Okay," you exhaled, "so, short answer is that I'm the CTO, the Chief Technology Officer, of Stark Industries and, under that, I run the Avenger’s Technology and Innovation Department. It's sort of our take on Research and Development. I've got a lab where I'm in charge of about 450 scientists, engineers, computer programmers, analysts, et. cetera. And our entire job is coming up with cool new ways of making things easier for the Avengers. Like, new features for suits, developing useful programs, coming up with new defenses and weapons, that kind of thing. And if we've got missions that require heavy computer- or tech-work, I come along for on-site support. I'm combat-trained and good with languages, so that comes in handy in the field. There’s probably a ton of field agents that could go in my place, but for Tony, it’s a matter of trust."

Bucky let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Damn. That's impressive. You're a little intimidating, you know that?"

Laughing, you tucked your tablet under your arm. "Please. I'm about as intimidating as a hamster." You paused to think. "Maybe a hamster with rabies, but still a hamster."

A series of beeps emanated from your tablet. As you pulled it out to check the alert, Bucky moved away from the wall. "I'm so sorry-- you were heading back to your room and I've basically been holding you hostage this entire time."

"Actually," you said, silencing the notification alarm that had distracted you, "That was just a reminder I set for myself to eat. Sometimes I lose track of time in the lab and completely forget to have dinner. Are you hungry? You could join me."

Bucky pulled his head back, regarding you as though he wasn't sure if you were serious.

"Or, if you don't want to, that's cool," you said quickly once you noticed his hesitation. "I mean, you wanted a quiet floor. Annoying neighbor is probably the last--"

"I'd love to," interrupted Bucky with a grin. "I'm just surprised someone like you would want to spend time with someone like me."

"Someone like me? Hey now, for all you know, I could be an absolute trash person," you teased, playfully punching him on the shoulder.

Bucky chuckled, his eyes sparkling with a newfound warmth. "Well, I highly doubt that, but I guess I'll find out soon enough."

"Don't say I didn't warn you when you do." You cocked your head toward the door to your room. "I'm going to change out of my work clothes. While I do, how about you decide what you're in the mood for, and we'll go from there. That sound good?" Bucky nodded as you let yourself into your room. The evening had taken an unexpected turn, but you found you were looking forward to spending more time in the company of Bucky Barnes.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[oniikabuto]

hi i hope this doesnt seem annoying bc i have never requested anything from ppl IDK it makes me anxious 😭 but ur one bed for sp was so cute i adore ur writing !!! do u think u could do it for craigs gang + butters?

one bed! part 2

-- sfw --

part one (main 4 boys)

characters: butters stotch, craig tucker, tweek tweak, tolkien black, jimmy valmer, clyde donovan

a/n: you arent annoying at all dws!! ty for being my first request this is monumental. oh and i wasnt sure if tweek counted as part of craigs gang or not but i adore him so i made one for him. also thank you!!!!!! ;; also jimmy is so underrated i love him so much mwagh

notes: i cant write clyde for shit idk he has no personaluty sorry i love him though; same character dynamic as part 1 (mutual pining, character has a crush on the reader)

— ⛧ b. stotch

complains that it's past his bedtime, but gives in because he wants to spend time with you.

"it's past nine already!"

"well.. yeah. it isn't that late, butters."

"but i always sleep at nine!"

but he'll sit through movies with you anyways because he has a fat crush on you.

except when the end credits start rolling, you look over at butters and he's curled up in a ball, snoring.

you don't have the heart to wake him up, so you quietly shut your laptop and move it off your bed.

he'll probably get in trouble for not coming home at all, but his parents trust you enough. you can probably talk them out of grounding him tomorrow morning.

"butters", you whisper. "leo, you gotta move."

he rolls over, half-asleep and dazed. "huh..?"

"you're staying with me tonight. scoot over."

"o-oh, jeez, okay", he blushes when he feels the warmth of you next to him.

"night, butters."

he's probably praying he doesnt wet the bed he would actually die

murmurs in his sleep and talks about nonsense

drools like a puppy

probably goes mimimimimi like in the cartoons /j

you will wake up with his arm around you. if you move it, he'll find his way back again in his sleep

looks like a baby when he sleeps its so funny you cant help but take photos



— ⛧ c. tucker

you turn around to tell him it's getting late and ask if he needs a ride home

and he's dead asleep. on the floor. textbook over his lap. snoring very softly.

like no wonder it's been so quiet... as you were doing your homework, craig was asleep on your floor.

you felt so bad having to wake him up to move him to your bed

"craig, i'm so sorry. i got distracted, i didn't mean to-"

"it's fine. just let me sleep in the corner. i like your plushies", he yawns.

so he sleeps in the corner against the wall, and you sleep on the outside to make sure he doesn't roll right off the bed.

if you weren't there, he definitely would have bc when you wake up, he's smushed into you.

how can he breathe???

he also violently gnashes his teeth and it's very startling (my brother did that as a kid and i would almost pee myself in fear)

and he'll randomly put his hand somewhere like your face?????? the way he does it is so funny because it always seems like he's wide awake but you look over and he's mouth breathing and sound asleep

yeah he's a mouth breather

it's okay he's a cutie



— ⛧ t. tweak

passes the fuck out from coffee. like CRASHES

"yeah and then i was telling kyle about how- tweek, you okay?"

"tired....... can i go.....mmfjkg"

like at a certain point past 1am he just turns into a dead slug

poor thing

you just send him up to your bedroom and get him a change of clothes so that he doesn't have to sleep in a button-up

except by the time you get up to your room, he's dead asleep.

you don't bother trying to wake him up, since you've never seen him sleep so peacefully.

he's curled up on his side, face buried in your plushies.

you scoot in next to him, so close that you can smell the milky coffee lingering in his hair.

it's kinda nice

in the middle of the night you wake up to a really strange noise.

it's tweek

he's doing this weird clicky thing with his tongue in his mouth in his sleep

like. okay?????? you go back to sleep

and then he flings his whole arm over and WHACKS you hard in the face

"TWEEK??"

"nhg..,"

he just randomly jerks in his sleep, wakes up for a second and falls back asleep

it's very startling

sometimes you have to hold him down with your arms

he loves it



— ⛧ t. black

actually a super chill guy to sleep with

he's enjoyable to have over

you'll both be studying for midterm exams next week, and he yawns

"it's like. ten. do you just wanna spend the night here?"

"is that, uh- is that okay with you?"

"yeah, my room's upstairs. i'll meet you up there in a sec"

he'll text his mom that he's spending the night because he's actually responsible

gets a little embarassed to sleep in your bed

but a win is a win

gets a LOT embarassed when you get in bed with him

falls asleep pretty fast actually

he's a relatively normal sleeper

spends like 30 minutes in the bathroom washing his face and stuff before he goes to bed

"do you have cleanser?"

sleeps like a rock

except for when he randomly talks

like TALKS. clear as day

scares you shitless

"y/n."

'tolkien??? are you up still??"

"why would you do that."

"do what??"

"grape juice"

and then he'd roll over and go back to sleep

does not remember any of his nighttime conversations in the morning

"i said that? are you sure?"



— ⛧ j. valmer

fell asleep on your couch in the middle of a horror movie

to your dismay

because when you turned away from the screen and grab at him in fear, he's SNORING. his ass is SNORING as the clown violently murders the main character.

"jimmy!"

"what?"

you just make a jokingly-angry face at him.

"it's late. can't i ju-just stay h-h-here?"

"well- i mean, sure, but you can't just sleep on the couch, dude. come up to my room, i'll show you."

"re-really?"

grins ear to ear

hes so down bad for you

almost implodes when you lean his crutches against the door and make sure they won't fall

DOES implode when you get in next to him

he smells like dish soap but in a good way

like citrus

you tell him so, and to that he makes a stupid "orange-you happy i'm here" joke

"jimmy, go to sleep."

"f-fine."

makes sure he's got the elastics for his braces in

in the middle of the night he'll whisper your name

"y/n r u still up"

"yeah what"

"i just thought of something really funny"

it gets old so fast but it's okay he's cute



— ⛧ c. donovan

crashes at 8pm after insisting he can pull an all-nighter

refuses to get up unless you drag him by his ankles

and even then he'll lay on the floor like a dead fish

so you just let him stay

meticulously brushes his hair sideways with wet fingers to make sure he doesn't wake up with a bedhead in front of you

he does anyway.

you walk up behind him as he moves his hair "whatcha doin?"

he jumps THREE FEET and whirls around

"nothing!" as if he's hiding a government secret or sum

once you guys r in bed he stops acting all tough and cool and just freaks out

his back will be turned but he's beet red

breathes really loudly when he falls asleep

and sleeps in ATROCIOUS positions

you'll wake up with his foot on your chest and the blanket flipped upside down

someone needs to belt this boy down to the bed or something

he's really a cute sleeper though

sometimes you wake up and see him face-down in a pillow and move him over to make sure he doesn't like. suffocate

and then he wakes up to you on top of him with no context

"....y/n?"



[astronicht]

Heya, long time tolkien fan with almost no knowledge about old english writings whatsoever here.

Could you explain what the Iron House Motif is? Saw you mentioning it in one of your posts, tried to google it, found pretty much nothing?

I mean i can kinda see what you mean about that but if you have an explanation or any examples that would be great!

Also, i love reading your lotr posts, they add so much stuff and background knowledge :)

A few people asked this regarding this silly post, and yeah it appears "iron house motif" is not a super googleable concept (i ran into it in an academic publication from 1993). Fortunately @pethaucwiar has described what it is, better than I could!

To this I'd add two things, which is that it's also pretty common in Old Norse sagas, and that iirc it sometimes also includes a house literally made of iron, so instead of burning down around your enemies, you also have the option of sticking them in a giant forge and then closing the door. This will be important later. Though honestly, you can stop here, the rest is extras.

Regarding Eowyn, there are famous variants where a woman burns her husband/enemies in a hall for revenge, in an act of self-destruction. (So-- I know she doesn't! But you see a hall, you see a woman, you get told to leave your weapons--)

The problem is, the scene I was joking about in LOTR is very much set in Rohan, and any scene in Rohan is hitting you over the head repeatedly, yelling EVERYONE HERE IS SPEAKING OLD ENGLISH. WE ARE IN AN OLD ENGLISH STORY. And the iron house motif doesn't come up much in Old English. In fact, the general fan assumption seems to be that the hall of Rohan is supposed to mimic Heorot, the hall in Beowulf (Beowulf being, famously, a story in Old English involving a big pretty hall with a king who needs an outside hero's aid; pretty clear-cut) -- over here someone argued persuasively on the same post that it's supposed to be a 1:1 comparison, and thus doesn't suggest any burning halls or iron halls etc.

A little on that! First off, Tolkien braids together his storyworlds constantly, so I'm never going to be sure that he's not going to turn a Beowulf-y hall into a burning revenge hall. But even if you read Rohan's hall as strictly 1:1 Beowulf's hall, approaching it is still kinda a stressful moment. Especially bc Beowulf is actually a really really weird example of Old English stories, where revenge hall burning feels closer than in any other OE text. For lots of reasons! None of its stories are set where people spoke Old English -- they’re set on the Continent and In The Past, purposefully referring to Germanic and Scandinavian storyworlds (where people like Eowyn, lacking any other agency, might burn down everyone). Heorot is not a normal hall, either, bc most importantly for the defense of my earlier shitpost, Beowulf's hall is literally an iron house:

"but it was fastened within and without with iron bands, smithed with crafty thoughts."

(Rutgers transl. I was not joking about it being annoying to translate; unless forced I do not translate Beowulf)

Ac he þæs fæste wæs innan ond utan iren-bendum searo-þoncum besmiþod" (lines 773-4)

So that was the joke! And those iron-bands in the walls are actually being used to keep the monster in the hall so Beowulf could fight it. (Picture wattle-and-daub, but woven with iron rods instead of reeds. This was NOT a real thing archeologically)

Basically: even if Rohan's hall is Beowulf's Heorot, it can still be a medievalist horror film moment where you scream DON'T GO IN THERE if you try hard and love the game. But truly, it was just a silly little post at the expense of CS Lewis.

[fancyfeathers]

I am very invested in your William and author reader fanfic, I must say it is very interesting. Would it be alright if I trouble you a little?

May you write a chapter where reader has gone missing right, and reader does actually outsmart William for the very first time? to the point where HE'S the one crawling back?? and is amazed? and begging her to come back? and she's not having it.

If it is too much, you may ignore this>

Thank you. Love you sm!!!

YES!!! Omg yes, I already started thinking about this with the idea of her being in a writer’s club or friends with other authors like J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis who would help each other with their works and what not.

So like her friends who heard about her disappearance and after writing mysteries and murders alongside her, they are completely ready to find her.

And Then There Were None (Yandere William James Moriarty /w Author Darling Masterlist)

No one would be able to tell anything was wrong at first glance when they saw William James Moriarty, to anyone outside they would see nothing wrong, to anyone besides Louis and Albert he would still behaving as normal…

But his brothers, William is on edge, but in the best way possible, like when Sherlock is at his heels and all because his darling beat him at his own game, truly remarkable. He thought that she would only be off for a week or two but over a month has passed and every time he thought he found something the trail ran cold. Then the cherry on top of it all was every hint he found that ran cold related back to her books, like she was mocking him and what he had done…

And it was thrilling.

Then one evening after William had returned home from teaching at the college, Louis had also returned home from the market and fight as he was going to unpack-

A letter fell from the basket, and it was addressed to a Professor William James Moriarty, the name inked in red pen.

Louis handed the letter off to William when he was speaking to Albert in the drawing room over tea, telling him it was in the basket but he had never knew it was there, so someone must have slipped it in. William opened the letter as he sat up straight in his chair…

“I'm where the drama unfolds with arias grand,

Where masks may conceal a mysterious hand.

Within these walls, stories old and new,

Echo in halls with a theatrical view.

Where am I found? Seek the stage's grand spree,

Where performers enchant with operatic glee.”

Meet us at the answer at 8:00 PM tomorrow night, show them the letter and they will let you in. Bring your brothers, or leave them, I really do not care.

The letter was not signed, but the riddle was written in the same red ink, slightly smeared. The answer was obvious, an opera house, the question was who sent this and why? It was clear it was connected to his darling, so hopefully this was not a trail that goes cold.

So William follows the instructions hoping alone since this was obviously going to be a passive encounter since it was in public, and upon arriving to the theater and seeing all the members of the audience flocking inside, the sender was among the crowd.

While the other patrons showed their tickets to the staff at the door, he showed the letter and a small smile comes across the man’s face as he tells William to go to box five and that they were already waiting for them. Then as William made his way to the box and pushes open the door to see two individuals, a gentlemen reading a newspaper and William could tell was years old, and then sitting next to the man was her, his darling. Then as the door shuts behind the professor, the one reading the paper speaks up without looking at him.

“A counterweight supporting an opera house's chandelier fell through the roof and crashed into the audience, injuring several people and killing one. Imagine if it was the actual chandelier instead, what would have happened? What do you think, Professor Moriarty?”

“It would have resulted in a fire most likely, and due to the unique design of the chandelier more people would have gotten injured and certainly more than one would have died-“

“Hm, I thought so as well, good to know what I wrote in my book then was accurate.”

William glances at his darling who is just sitting there, not looking or speaking to him. The other man laughs at this and sets his paper down to look at the professor, a gleeful smile across his face.

“She almost refused to come, but we need to have closure on this whole affair so we can move on with our lives. A shame though, I quite enjoyed tracking her down with the others, it was like a competition to figure out what happened to her and who did it, and a bonus to beat the culprit at their own game, and it seems like I was the one to win, Professor William.”

William’s eyes drifted to where his darling sat in the box, her eyes still not going to meet the man who was publicly called her husband but who was in reality her worst nightmare.

“And if I may ask, how do you two know each other?”

“At an university funny enough, we were both invited to give lectures on our shared field of expertise, we became friends almost immediately and exchanged letter for a number of years when I lived in France, along with meeting up with a few of our colleagues to review our work-.”

“So you are an author as well, I do not think I have read any of your works.”

“Hm, that is a shame seeing as this meeting point revolved around my masterpiece, but I suppose you would like to cut to the chase.”

“Yes, as fun as this has been, I would rather her return-“

“Return with you? But that would mean you won, but you clearly did not, you lost. I invited you here so we can put this behind us.”

The man cut him off with a smile as if nothing was wrong, and it sent an almost thrilling shiver down William’s spine. He was about to reply to the man but then-

“Could you please leave William and I alone?”

She spoken up for the first time during this entire meeting, her eyes now snapping to glance at William for the briefest moments. The man gunned in response to her, standing up from his chair to leave the box, but as he passed William, he grabbed his shoulder-

“You may know how to murder people but rest assured so do I, after all both her and I write about it for a living. So try anything and I promise one of your friends will not be alive in the morning.”

The man’s cheerful tone had all but faded away and William hummed in acknowledgment to the threat right as he slipped out of the opera box, leaving William and his darling.

“Do not worry, he is bluffing, he does not have the heart to kill and nor do I.”

“Dearest…”

“I… I wanted to say goodbye, I figured it would be to cruel not to even after all the times you have done to me.”

“And how long do you think you can run?”

“Longer and faster than you can, and that became clear in my absence, you could not find me, so I think I will be fine. But I suppose if you find me again it is fair game, so… hm, what was that thing you told Mr. Holmes on the train with Louis and I that one time…”

She hums for a moment as she stands up from her seat, adjusting the gloves she wore as she prepared to leave. She stand before the Lord of Crime, looking him dead in the eye.

“Catch me if you can, Professor Moriarty.”

With that, she walked passed him, leaving the box and him alone as a smile came across his face…

“Oh you smart little thing…”

[schismusic]

Nine Inch Nails' The Fragile (and me) at 25

It turns out it's very hard for me to talk about Nine Inch Nails on this blog. Not only because it's a band whose catalogue I explored in a very, very weird manner (essentially anything after 2005, barring Hesitation Marks, is terra ignota to me, a guy who fucking shelled out fifty euros as a fourteen-year-old to go see Trent Reznor perform live as his first ever paid gig) but also because what I do know about them has indelibly altered how I function, not just as a musician but as a person as well. Issue is: The Downward Spiral turned thirty last March. Your usual suspects and I ended up giving it another whirl. I hadn't heard it in full in, at that point, a good five years if not more – my memories of it were confused at best. Of course, hearing the whole thing after so long reminded me of the absolute paradigm shift the record was for me (and, doubtless, for many others as well) which led to me finally biting the bullet.

There is another Nine Inch Nails record hitting a special anniversary this year. It perennially exists in the shadow of the other two "classic" NIN records, mostly due to its perceived length, width of scope, breadth of intent, intensity. I'm not a Nine Inch Nails historian, despite the profound interest the band has always sparked within me. I will not pretend to have any special insight to offer within the recording process, the songwriting, the psychology behind any NIN release at all – and especially not a release as personal, as layered, as complicated, and ultimately as definitive as this one. Anyone with ears will however have to agree with this: sure, it might not have singles as iconic, it might not be as concise, it might not capture the zeitgeist as well as its predecessors, but The Fragile hit its twenty-fifth anniversary with what we can only assume to have been the same grace as works like Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, Homer's Odyssey, Nintendo R&D1's Super Metroid. It's not even a contest. Pretty Hate Machine, barring a couple of incredible songs that would be absolute standouts in any other discography, is mostly just cute and quite unfocused in a number of crucial ways that make it breathe stilted compared to what's to come. Broken and The Downward Spiral still hit like a truck with very little rough spots – they remain lean, efficient pieces of slaughter machinery – but, as acutely noted by recurring blog guest Francesco Farabegoli, their reliance on heavy guitars seems to be more a byproduct of historical coincidence than that of genuine affection, on Reznor's part, to that specific brand of aggression. As such, it's easier to see them retrospectively as double-bound to phenomena like the Seattle sound's overnight success, or the surprisingly big following garnered by genres like death metal and projects like Ministry. None of this applies to The Fragile. Every single sound design decision in The Fragile stands as well alone as it does within the context of the whole NIN discography up to that point – including the Quake soundtrack, which (if not for its inherent ties to an external vision, not directly pertaining to anyone in the band) might actually be its closest peer in a number of ways.

Following up on the more abstract moments of Quake, for starters, The Fragile by and large foregoes the grid-like structure that even The Downward Spiral still abode to. As a result, most of the album's songs retain a surprising "live" feel to them; however, it has to be noted that the sounds themselves are imprecise, artisanal, acoustically coherent to their own reality, believable within the context of a hypothetical recording space: somewhat damaged, in most scenarios. The irony of saying this about a record whose singles include, among other things, humongous-sounding digitally distorted walls of electric guitars and actual breakbeats does not escape me, of course; but tracks like The Great Below (one of the album's thematic centerpieces) are ultimately so enhanced by the unnaturally warbled synth strings, the alien-sounding acoustic guitars or whatever that fucking pluck even is, the single-tracked lead vocals that it's actually impossible to unhear it, once you've heard it. In other words, The Fragile's ultimate superiority lies within its decision to sound – plain and simple – like it is dying.

What most popular rock and rock-adjacent acts of the 1990s made finally clear is the inextricable connection between grief and anger, mourning and fury. On average, the more personal the record, the clearer the connection between the two. In Utero, Dirt, the more politically charged branches of emo, the bands that most openly associated themselves with the nu metal image all end up converging onto an angst-filled paradox of vehement depression, or abulic bloodlust, if you'd rather. This is also the case with The Downward Spiral – a record that conveniently expresses its sad moments in the form of exactly that: sad moments (A Warm Place and Hurt, to name names). I am also conveniently leaving aside the more overtly sexual side of all the records and movements mentioned – but ultimately, bloodlust and appetite are not just metaphors of destruction, if you catch my drift. All of this somehow ends up actually coalescing into virtually any given second of The Fragile's hour-and-a-half runtime. The irony is that this exact coincidence of sounds and feelings looks a lot like your average sixty-year-old who takes up the habit of looking at obituaries posted on the streets and put in local newspaper – an exquisitely Abruzzese habit, from which I am not exempt.

Pointedly enough, a couple of tracks on the record openly tie into the then-recent demise of Trent Reznor's grandmother Clara, the woman who encouraged him to actually pursue a serious career in music. It gets particularly grim when you realize the instrumental I've just linked above this paragraph – candidly titled I'm Looking Forward to Joining You, Finally – has one single thing written under its title in the CD's booklet: the chilling epigraph "for Clara". I spent a lot of time in a cemetery on November 2nd, 2024, as my family and I waited for the Day of the Dead mass to start. Everyone in town had reunited in the graveyard, with the hilarious result that the place in question was more populated – and noisier, regrettably – than the actual town itself. A literal necropolis, then: a city of the dead, as in quite literally built with them: the little family mausoleums and the big structures comprising multiple assorted burial recesses, if you squint, look like condominiums, late nineteenth-century roofed avenues, suburban villas. Then, those who populate these areas, of course very much alive, speak of things pertaining mostly to people who are alive – and boil with the self-destructive rage pertaining to people who are still alive (self-destuctive, that is, only insofar as other people they know no longer are alive).

I was born on July 11th, 1999; as such, I am about two months older than The Fragile. The fact that this particular record would turn twenty-five the same year as me imposed a redde rationem of some kind: finally face this behemoth, advertised to be more depressing, more horrifying, dirtier and more suffocating than any other NIN record was. And so I did. Mere days after the record's anniversary, my girlfriend would tell me she wasn't feeling the spark anymore. As usual, she'd called it right – neither was I, as hard to admit as it was. Grandpa stays buried, much to everyone's chagrin, and I am nowhere closer to making my own Russian Ark than I was when I posted my last piece on here. I fumbled a cute-looking girl a week ago and while on the one hand I knew this was gonna happen and I was going to take it in stride, on the other hand this very much did not happen, which led me to finally listen to Justin Broadrick's Jesu (more on this in another post: it's probably gonna be a fun time, unlike this one). A couple of other things happened – a British girl hit on me after my band played a local underground music club, and then forgot to actually follow suit with her actual plans, luckily for me seeing as she looked to be quite drunk already – but the point still stands: I am the one looking at obituaries, blindly reading on, recognizing last names with a grimace, refusing to engage with my own fallibility.

So twenty-five years on, we have to face the music. Reznor has, so far, never made anything as intense and personal and calculated and brutal and perfect in the etymological sense of the word as The Fragile. Doing so would, in all likelihood, kill him. With Teeth is a record that admits a form of defeat: I'll take a quiet life, I'll take a rock quartet with synths, I don't fucking care about perfection any longer. Hesitation Marks deals in different forms of anxiety, more befitting for a man (at the time) nearing fifty, with a wife and children and an Academy Award or two sitting on his shelf somewhere. Both are mostly cute – I will go so far as to admit I have an actual soft spot for Hesitation Marks, making it the only NIN record outside of the classics that I willingly go out of my way to listen to in full – and ultimately inconsequential. I guess I can certainly aspire to be as inconsequential and cute as these records are, knowing there will forever be a record like The Fragile somewhere behind my back, hiding in the shadows.

[mileycyprus-hill]

To Have and to Hold, Tenderly

Based off @gondorimagines post about Boromir cradling you in his arms after a bad day. I took a creative turn with it. This is also my first Boromir fic I've written, so I hope it's good. (Not gonna lie, it was a f***ing struggle to alter my writing style to mirror that of Tolkien when I've only ever written cowboy stuff. Did I need to? Prolly not. But I'm an idiot who does things the hard way.)

Summary: You're a Lady of Dol Amroth and have been married to Boromir for a few years. You're postpartum from a long and painful delivery of your firstborn child while Boromir was gone to protect the borders of Gondor. When he returns, he offers you consolation during your difficult time.

Tags/Warnings: postpartum depression, fluff.

It has been a week.

A week and the pain still lingers. It has spread through your body and evolved from its physical form to infect your mind. The pain of labor had left you frail and weary, your once vibrant spirit now subdued by the weight of motherhood's trials. As you lie in your bedchamber, weighed down underneath the furs and silk sheets, you hear the argument between guilt and apathy loud in your thoughts.

The guilt shouts at you, ordering you to get up. It tells you to be stronger than this; that a Lady of Dol Amroth and wife of a high-ranking captain does not laze about in her bed. She never accepts defeat, but stands up and soldiers on. For her child. For her people.

Apathy however, whispers that you have already failed and you'll never be strong enough for yourself, your child, or your captain again. Your body is ruined. Boromir may not ever return to Minas Tirith. How will you find the strength again?

The silence in the room feeds your inner thoughts. The grand walls and high ceiling loom over you, making it feel less of a comforting place of rest and more of an entrapping cave of white stone. The heavy, blue velvet curtains draping your tall, arched windows shut out the warm sunlight.

You wish to hold her, your newborn babe. That's all you can care for, to feel her warmth against you so you can feel something. Alas, she remains with your nursemaid in another room at the request of the midwife. To give you rest, she told. She witnessed your pain and anguish firsthand, as she stayed with you during those prolonged hours of pushing, screaming, crying, and praying for it all to end. You were near hysterics, anxious that your baby was trapped inside you. You feared as if you had to split yourself in half to get her out.

The midwife recognized your melancholy which lingered after your daughter's birth. She said to you this feeling will pass in time, or was it she hoped it would?

As you drift in and out of an emotional slumber, a gentle knock echoes through the wooden door, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps crossing the threshold. You open your eyes to see the familiar dark, yet golden hair of Boromir, your stalwart husband. He enters your shared bedchamber, his countenance etched with lines of concern and weariness from the battles fought at Gondor's borders.

"My dear (Y/N)," he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to your troubled mind.

You can hardly contain the tears in your weary eyes at the sight of his towering figure. The sound of his voice sends a wave of relief. It washes over you, threatening to spill the emotions you've held so tightly in your heart.

"You've returned!" You sputter and look to him as he crosses the room with purpose, his arms outstretched to embrace you. With such tender care, he gathers you in his arms, his strong frame a shield against the woes outside your door.

"I have, as swiftly as my steed could carry me...I feared I had lost you," he murmurs, soft and low, pressing a kiss to your brow. "But here you are, safe as I hoped you both would be."

You nestled against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your ear. It's a comforting cadence amidst the chaos of your thoughts. The warmth of his cheek against your crown permeates your cold and weakened body and you breathe in his scent, detecting his musk that you've always found so alluring.

Lavender and cream from his shave, leather from his clothing, and the earth and air from his travels.

"How are you feeling?" He queries with a gentle hush, "I had heard it was...quite difficult."

Tears began flowing down your cheeks like a trickling stream after a spring rain. You mutter a sarcastic answer to mask the pain, albeit pathetically, "Difficult is how I would describe your temper. This was..." you pause to reconsider burdening him with your woes, "...something far beyond my imagination."

Boromir's warm hold around you tightens and he presses an apologetic kiss to your forehead. As the fire crackles softly in the hearth, he begins to weave a tale of excitement upon learning the news of your daughter's birth.

"When I received word that our child was a girl," he began, a fond smile gracing his lips, "my heart swelled with joy beyond measure. I thought, a blessing has been bestowed upon us by the Valar themselves, to cherish and protect for all the days of our lives."

Your heart sank.

"But what of your father? He did not appear pleased to discover her," You worry, remembering the controlling nature of the steward towards all things in his city. "Tradition demands a male heir."

Boromir replies, his expression turning solemn as he considers your question, "He may harbor...disappointment at first. He does cling to the ways of old, but he is a man of wisdom and honor." He pauses, a flicker of sadness crossing his features before resolve settled in his eyes. "I have faith that in time he will come to see the light and beauty that our daughter brings to our house, and he will welcome her into the fold with open arms, as a cherished member of our noble lineage."

He recounted how he had ridden with haste through the rolling hills of Gondor, his heart buoyed by the thought of returning to your side, to share in the wonder of new life.

"As I rode through the streets, I heard talk of you and our daughter." He smiles a breathless laugh at that final word, "They spoke with such gleeful joy, 'Finally, a girl is born in the Citadel!' It gave them hope, (Y/N). Countless people requested I send word of your good health to them. They love you, (Y/N). They are here for you just as I am. You are...you're their princess."

Suddenly, a drop of moisture splashes onto your hair. Bringing yourself up from beneath his chin, you look into his grey-blue eyes. They're brimming with tears and he makes no effort to slow his weeping, for he is so overjoyed he can no longer contain them.

"My journey was long and arduous," he continued, his voice a low rumble in the quiet chamber. "But fear not, my love, for I am here now. Together, we shall weather this storm."

And so, in the solace of each other's arms, you found a sanctuary from the trials of the world outside. For in the embrace of love, even the darkest night could be pierced by the light of hope, shining bright as the morning sun upon the walls of Gondor.

The soft creak of the doorknob echoes through the bedchamber, heralding the arrival of another into the sanctum of your solace. Both of your gazes, intertwined with longing and curiosity, turn to behold the newcomer being carried across the threshold.

"And now, here she is," says Boromir, his gaze softening as he looks upon the babe being welcomed into your arms. "When I look upon her, I see the promise of a future adorned with beauty and grace. A beacon of hope to light our path ahead."

As he spoke, you felt a warmth suffuse your weary frame, a renewed sense of purpose blooming within your heart. For in Boromir's words, you find strength to face the challenges that lay ahead, knowing that together, you would overcome every obstacle, guided by the light of love's enduring flame.

[starknightgirl]

Beyond the Starless Sky, Chapter 1

This is the first of (hopefully) three chapters for my story for the @inklings-challenge. I'm on Team Tolkien and I chose to do a Secondary World story with the main theme of Comfort the Sorrowful. I'm not sure how well I did on the theme part for this chapter. As of the writing of this post, it is the only complete chapter. It is very unpolished so constructive criticism is entirely welcome.

-✦✦✦-

Chapter 1: The Shining City Below

“I, Camilla Rowen, on this, my majority, do hear-by swear to fulfill the Crown Trial.” I said, heart hammering in my chest as I knelt before the Regent Council. “I shall set forth from Adytum and I shall not return until the Crown is returned to our home.”

The crowd gathered at the back of the council chamber erupted in a flurry of whispers. But the Regent Council in front of me was stony in their silence. I swallowed nervously.

Finally, the Prime Regent in the center, a severe man named Braden, nodded. “Very well.” He said. “Let it be known that from tomorrow on, Camilla Rowen has set upon the Crown Trial. She shall be sent to the surface and shall not be welcome back until the Crown is returned.”

I stood and bowed before exiting the chamber. I managed to take four steps out into the city proper before what I’d just done caught up to me. It fell upon me like a heavy weight.

I had all but exiled myself from Adytum. The cavern city, with its familiar luminescent ceiling and walls. The only safe-haven from the Wraiths that stalked the surface. My home of eighteen years. What had I just done?

I’m not sure how long I stood outside the Regent Council Chambers frozen in fear. But it was long enough that Eskil, my best friend found me there. And he was furious.

“The Crown Trial?! What were you thinking, Camilla?!” Eskil yelled. He was still wearing his knight uniform. He must have just come off duty then.

“It’s the only way I’ll find out what happened to my brother, Eskil.” I said, throat tight.

“It’s a death sentence, Camilla! You and I both know what happened to Aidan. He died on that fool’s errand just like everyone else who sought the Crown!” Eskil said. “Or are you not wearing mourning braids for him even now?!”

I slumped slightly. Eskil was right. I didn’t wear my braids just for my parents. But even still.

“I need to know. I could be— We could be wrong.” I said, before adding in a whisper, “besides, you and I both know the only skill I know is illegal surface ruins scavenging, which I can’t exactly get a job doing legally.”

“You could be a knight like me.” Eskil said. “Please don’t throw your life away on this worthless quest! There’s a reason no one has tried since Aidan!”

“It’s too late.” I said, hoping I sounded more resolved than I felt. “I already swore myself to the Trial. I have to leave tomorrow. No matter what.”

Eskil sighed deeply. “I wish you had told me you were planning on doing this.”

“You would’ve tried to stop me.” I said softly. Might have succeed too.

“Yes, because it’s a bad idea!” Eskil said. Then he sighed, his shoulders slumping. “But I suppose it’s too late for that now.”

“It is.” I said. “I’m sorry, Eskil.”

“No, I’m sorry.” He said. “You should go pack. You’re going to have a long night in front of you.”

“It’s alright.” I said, nervous to admit something that would probably make Eskil feel worse. But I pushed through it. “I packed yesterday.”

He sighed. “Of course you did. Alright, well, since you’re doing this, I’m going to look over what you packed. A second pair of eyes could help make sure you’re not missing anything you’ll need.”

“Thank you, Eskil.” I said.

“Don’t thank me yet.” He said. “I’ll be a bit— I should go drop off my kit.”

“Alright.” I said. Then, trying to be a bit humorous, I added, “don’t take too long though or I’ll leave without you.”

It didn’t really land well. He just groaned. “Please don’t joke about that, Camilla.” Which was perhaps a bit fair.

-✦✦✦-

My home was a small alcove close to the surface which had been walled off for privacy. There wasn’t much here. Especially not now that I had packed pretty much all of my worldly belongings into my backpack. My very battered backpack— the number of times I had to sew and patch that bag up, well. At least it would only have to survive one more journey.

Honestly, I was lucky to have a home at all. Even if it was a mere stone’s throw from the entrance to the cavern. Adytum had a serious overpopulation problem— the cavern wasn’t exactly designed for the population that had squeezed its way into it. Plans to expand the caverns had been proposed, but they were dangerous. The last thing anyone wanted was for the cavern to collapse on the city.

Still, there was a cowardice in the way that the Regent Council refused to consider any plans to expand. But then, I suppose it was easy for me to judge from the outside looking in. I tried to remind myself of that every time the Regent Council’s petty in-fighting and self-interested selfishness got on my nerves. It was rather hard at times.

Maybe finding the Lost Queen wouldn’t help. I wanted to be optimistic about it all. I wanted to believe I would find my brother alive and we would bring the Lost Queen to Adytum. But even if I managed to succeed in all parts of my quest, there was every possibility it would just make Adytum’s precarious situation more unstable. The Regent Council all swore an oath to support the Queen when she returned. But how many of them would uphold it?

I shook my head. That was putting the chicken before the eggs. I had to find the Lost Queen first. I had to succeed where so many before me had failed. Some much more well equipped than me.

“Well, this place looks slightly more bare than usual.” A voice said from behind me.

I jumped, my heart racing, before I realized who it was. “Don’t scare me like that, Eskil!”

“Sorry, I knocked but you didn’t answer.” He said, walking over to me. “I figured you wouldn’t mind me just entering.”

“You don’t have to knock, Eskil. Just don’t sneak up on me like that!” I said as I turned to face him. He had indeed taken off his gambeson, mail and helmet, leaving him in a dark tunic and pants. He also had what looked to be a large pole wrapped in a cloth. “What’s with the pole?”

“It’s a gift.” He said. “I’ll show you in a bit. First, what did you pack?”

“Nothing too crazy. A canteen of water. Hardtack, some oats and a bit of honey. A small metal pot and spoon. A fire-starter. A bedroll. Linen and rope for shelter. A spare change of clothes. And, of course, my crystal lantern.” I said.

Eskil smiled fondly. “You were so disappointed when Aidan gifted that to you. But that little lantern has probably saved your life several times.”

“Well Aidan wasn’t too happy when he realized giving me it allowed me to take more risks while scavenging.” I said sheepishly. “So, what do you think?”

“Seems like a pretty good kit.” He said. “I don’t want to know where you got a fire-starter, do I? You know they’re heavily regulated here.”

“I only got it a few days ago, Eskil. Don’t worry, I haven’t been sitting on an illegal fire-starter for years.” I said.

“I said I didn’t want to know, Camilla.” He said, but his tone was fond.

I shrugged slightly. “I mean, I didn’t tell you where I got it. Just when I got it.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Eskil said.

I grinned at him, half-bowing sarcastically, “with pride.”

“There is something you’re missing though.” He said, with a slight air of theatricality.

“Oh?” I said. “Might that be your mysterious present?”

Eskil unwrapped the object he’d brought. It was a sword, securely held in a rust-colored leather scabbard that matched the hilt. “I meant for you to take this on your Knight Trial but luckily it still works for this too. I hope you never have to use it. But just in case.”

“I— I don’t know what to say, Eskil.” I said. “Surely this cost way too much.”

Eskil rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, actually, I made it.”

“What?” I said, staring at him in shock. “How? What about the Smith Trial?” I couldn’t comprehend the idea that Eskil of all people might’ve broken the law.

“I’m not selling it, it’s a gift.” He said with a grin. “It’s a bit of a loophole but no one ever said you needed to pass any Trials for gifts. Oh, speaking of, you haven’t seen the best part yet.”

With a flourish, Eskil unsheathed the sword. But surprisingly, where I expected to see metal, was instead a crystal blade. It shone, filling every shadowed corner of my home with light.

“Wow.” I said. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, but it’s also practical.” Eskil said with a shrug, dropping the scabbard on my bed. “If, heaven forbid, you end up running into some Wraiths, this should help more than a regular sword.” Then he gently handed the sword to me.

I stared at it, baffled. “Weird.” I said. “I expected it to be heavier. I mean, not that it’s light by any means, but it’s made of bright crystals right?”

“Well, sort of.” Eskil said. “There is a bright crystal core to it. But you’re right. Bright crystals alone would’ve been too heavy— that’s probably why no one has made a sword like this before. But notice how the surface is clear? I used aninite.”

“But aninite isn’t clear.” I said, turning the sword in fascination. Most of the cavern walls here were made up of ainite; that lucky fact had probably saved us all because aninite was a very light, yet strong rock. But those walls were also every shade of dark gray.

“It’s not usually, no.” He said. “But I heard of some bright crystals that don’t glow. And I got curious. And it turns out, they’re not bright crystals at all. Under the right circumstances, aninite can be everything from a smoky gray to full on clear like here.”

“That’s amazing.” I said. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?”

“I’ll feel better knowing you have it.” Eskil said. “I made it with you in mind. Besides, I can always make another one.”

I gently set the sword down on my bed and grabbed Eskil in a tight hug. “Thank you, Eskil. For everything.”

“You’re welcome, Camilla.” Eskil said. “Now come on, if this is going to be your last day in town for awhile, you deserve to have some good food for once.”

I tried to smile, even though I could feel the weight of the Trial looming over me. “Alright. Let’s go.”

-✦✦✦-

I shifted nervously standing before Adytum’s main gate. There were other, narrower tunnels out, even though there weren’t supposed to be. Most of those I knew like the back of my hand. But I had never actually left by the main entrance. My surface expeditions were illegal after all and the main gate was where the guards stood watch.

My new sword was an unexpected weight on my right side, but my backpack was little heavier than I was used to. It should’ve felt almost like a normal expedition. It really didn’t. There was something about knowing how I might never return. It weighed on me.

Last night had been amazing. I had never wanted it to end. But eventually it had, Eskil forcing me to go home early to get sleep for my early departure time. I had not slept well.

Surface travel was going to be hard. On my expeditions I had always left just after sunrise and come back before sundown to avoid the Wraiths. I no longer had that option. A nocturnal schedule would allow me to defend myself at night. But traveling by day would be safer. There didn’t seem to be a good option.

“Nervous?” Eskil said as he walked up from behind me. It was his day off so I wasn’t too surprised to see he had once again forgone his armor.

I nodded, turning to face him. “Mostly I’m waiting for them to be ready. Well, that and trying to determine if it’s better to travel by day or by night.”

“Try by day first.” Eskil said. “A properly secured campsite might be able to save you from having to fight Wraiths at all.”

“Or get me killed.” I said, shifting nervously.

“You’re going to be fine, Camilla.” He said. “I believe in you. Trust me, the surface is survivable. And I know that you of all people can do it.”

“I’m going to miss you.” I said. “Especially if— if I fail.”

“Hey, don’t think like that.” He said. “You’re going to be the one to pass this Trial.”

“You didn’t think that yesterday.” I said, slumping slightly. “What if this is really as you said, a death sentence?”

Eskil sighed. “You’re right. I didn’t think that yesterday. But that had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. Me and my fears. Because when I really stop to think about it, I know you can do it. I believe in you, Camilla.”

“Thanks, Eskil.” I said.

“Hey, it’s all I can do for you now.” He said.

“It still means a lot.” I said, pulling him into a hug. “I’m going to miss you.”

“You’ll just have to pass your Trial then.” He said, slowly pulling back. “Go onto victory and safely return.”

“May your path be lit until that day.” I said softly.

“For having known you, it will be.” He said with a bittersweet grin. “Now, go on, you’re going to be amazing!”

“That’s not part of it!” I said, shaking my head fondly, turning towards the gates. The guards were changing to the day shift which meant it would be time soon.

“I don’t care, it’s true!” Eskil called after me.

“If you say so!” I said, not even bothering to turn back. In front of me, the guards finished swapping. I walked towards the one on the right. He was in charge of the gate. That meant he would be the one alerted to my Trial and subsequent departure. I felt surprisingly steady all things considered.

“You Camilla Rowan?” The guardsman asked. He probably didn’t see too many people trying to leave given the circumstances.

I nodded. “That’s me.”

“Here. Your Crown compass. Don’t lose it.” He said, handing me what looked like a compass made of dark opaque crystal.

I’d only seen one once before, when Aidan had set out on his quest, but its appearance was seared into my brain. A dark opaque crystal compass set with white markings hung on a leather strap. An enchantment on the needle would make it always point to the Lost Queen. It would be my guide for the Trial, leading me in the straightest possible route. Of course, it also didn’t account for obstacles in the way.

“Camilla Rowan,” the guardsman said sternly, “Return with the Crown or not at all.”

“I— I swear I will.” I said.

The guardsman opened up a door into the guardhouse. Another guard stood there to lead me out. The last memory I had of Aidan was of him walking this same route.

At the time, I had imagined that they would open the portcullises for him; I imagined I would watch him walk up the cavern entrance until he vanished from sight. It had rather broken my imagination to learn that there was a hatch between the two portcullises that single travelers could exit via rope ladder. Only one portcullis need open, the outer one.

In hindsight it was a silly assumption because they didn’t even open both portcullises when the Knight Trial candidates needed to leave. They cycled the portcullises, first one the the other.

The journey through the guardhouse was short— I spent most of it lost in thought and was quite surprised only a few minutes later to have already made it to the exit. The hatch was larger than I expected, but certainly not beyond measure. The guardsman anchored the rope ladder and then opened the hatch. He threw the ladder down.

My hands felt clammy as I slowly climbed my way down. The ladder seemed to sway with every step, sure as they were. Compared to the walk through the guardhouse, the short climb down seemed of interminable length. Still, eventually I reached the end. I stepped off the ladder and had but a moment to catch my breath before one of the portcullises slowly rose.

It revealed a tunnel of dark gray rock, much more wide than the passages I was used to sneaking out of. Maybe that was what made it feel so different to leave. Maybe it was that the Crown Trial had just begun. At any rate, I was on my way.

-✦✦✦-

1 2 3 - Next Chapter >

[secret--psalms--saturn]

Inklings Challenge 2024

Hi! This is my first time finishing an inklings challenge( @inklings-challenge !) Yay! I've decided to keep it short and sweet.

My team is Tolkien and I've decided to do Secondary World Fantasy with the theme of comforting the sorrowful. With that being said,

TW: death mention, specifically suicide mention

I don't go into specifics and honestly just heavily implied, but I wanted to tag it just in case!

Anyways, enjoy! Please just ignore the ugly grammar lol:

Odeda looked up at her husband from her laptop, watching him wash dishes from today's breakfast. His skinny arms were quick but thorough, and his eyes focused on scrubbing each dish with care. He looked like he was studying each one as if he had saw them for the first time.

Constantine was just about done, she had guessed. Breakfast wasn't big, just some eggs and toast, with a few fresh strawberries. Work was a little slow this season, so he was able to sit down and have breakfast with her.

It was quiet, as so had the morning been. Neither of them talked much, just small talk about their plans for the day. Sunlight had trickled in kitchen window, illuminating Constantine's pale, smooth long face and tickled his long pointed ears. Odeda smiled softly, loving the simple but beautiful view. She tucked her curly hair behind her similar ears and rose a coffee mug to her lips, choosing to break from her writing to observe his long figure. He finally finished up, shook out his hands and dried them fully with an embroidered hand towel.

"Okay beloved, I'm gonna get going. We're gonna be picking up soon." Constantine pushed up his glasses as he walked over and gave her a tender kiss on her lips. He then looked down and put a hand on her dress, right on her stomach. "Be good for your mama, little one." He whispered with a smile and walked towards the door.

"Be safe honey." Odeda said, as he opened the door.

"Will do, business is just a mile down the road."

"I know, sometimes I wish you would just take a Ruby Share."

"Yeah but the time it takes to get a cab out here and drive me… I'd be there already." He let a small smile escape from his lips. "I'll be careful, don't you worry" He nodded in assurance.

"Okay, love you. Just text me when you get there alright?"

"Will do. Love you, bye." With that, he closed the door, barely making a sound.

She took a small sip of her black coffee, warm and comforting. Looking around, she took in the small kitchen space, enough for basic appliances and a few smaller ones pushed to the back of the light green walls. The toned wooden cabinets sat above the counters that held enough space for their dishes. Floral matching curtains were pushed aside the window and door window. A floral lamp that was off hung from the ceiling but gave light at dinner. A couple spring themed mats sat on the brown wooden floor near the sink and door.

Odeda whispered a small prayer, before closing her laptop and packed her things. She took a deep breath, hiked her bags up, and headed out the door.

Odeda placed a bag in her passenger seat, walked over to the driver side, and plumped down. It was getting a little harder to adjust in small spaces being 35 week pregnant, but she managed. She had offered her husband a ride to work the night before, but he declined knowing she had a doctor's appointment in the next town she had to get to. Shifting the car in reverse, she backed out of the driveway and headed down the dirt road. Drive was about an hour away, so she turned on her playlist and let her mind ease… at least as much as she could.

But her mind drifted instead. Odeda thought about the unusually warm May day it was, and how she brought a cardigan just in case but chose to feel the warm breeze against her skin anyway. Odeda gripped the staring wheel, thankfully sighing and taking deep breaths. She knew her doctor would tell her to relax her shoulders and unclench her jaw. Things have settled a bit since March, the last cold blow to their family. Finally, a warm day to bring some kind of relief to her and Constantine. The winter was long and bleak, as this region often gets. But this year had] been particularly hard. So many losses and hardships… they made it out, but barely.

Odeda shook her head, taking another deep breath. She turned up her music and tried to blare out her thoughts with her favourite playlist. She thought it was working, but asking her to not think about a white elephant, just brought a whole herd in. Soon her tears flowed and her driving sense kicked into auto pilot. Who was she to fight the memories that begged her to address them properly?

Just a few more days Odeda reminded herself. Her therapy appointment was Thursday, and then she could continue chipping away at the pain. Since she didn't want to burden her husband, she sought out to wear her heart out on her sleeve only in certain times.

Trees waved past her as she got onto more solid back roads. She loved it a bit more than highways. They were winding, quiet, and had a great view of the hills she passed by. Some clouds scattered the sky, allowing the sun to kiss the blooming plant life that is starting to wake up from the chilling winter. Broken brick side rails and wooden fences weaved in and out of the side of the road, separating the pavement from fields of gold and lush green pastures. It caused Odeda to glance upon it with a smile, giving her just enough hope to look forward to summer's glow.

About half way there, she heard her phone buzz. She knew better than to check her phone, however she knew it was her husband letting her know he was at the shop. They had started a floral business together, about a year ago. It's been a wild ride, adding weeds to their garden but for now, the garden is about to flourish again. Odeda usually helped a lot in shop, but as her pregnancy progressed she focused more on taking it easy.

Odeda put a hand on her tummy, looking forward to her ultrasound and hearing her little one's heartbeat. The young elven woman looked even more forward to meeting the child face to face,

xoxo

Odeda dialed her husband's number as she got into the car and sent it through Bluetooth.

"Hey love!" She greeted him.

"Hey honey, how'd your appointment go?"

"All is well." She assured him. Odeda knew he wanted to tag along with her, but if he did he would've had to stay late at the office. Constantine knew she rather would have him be home by dinner, so they both didn't mind.

"Good. Did you go to Sandy's afterwords?"

"Yeah, you know how I've been craving their chocolate croissants."

She could hear a small chuckle. "You and your chocolate."

"Hey! The baby wanted it."

She heard a sharp but short laugh. "Okay okay, your story going well?"

"Yeah."

There was a few moments of silence.

"Okay love," she finally said. "See you when I get home?"

"See you then"

"Love you"

"Love you too."

"Bye"

xoxo

"I got a summons to the court" Constantine said quietly, pulling out an envelope embellished with golf lettering and a wax seal of their kingdom's emblem.

"A summons!?" Odeda exclaimed, in disbelief. "For what?"

He opened the letter, and then smiled, breaking the 'act' that he had been concealing.

"Honey," he looked at her with a wide grin. "you know the prince is getting married, right?"

"Yeah? What about it?"

"Well they need a florist"

"A florist…?" Odeda trailed off, thinking for a moment with her head focusing on the ground, tapping her chin. She then looked up at him, wide eyed. "And they asked..?"

"Us!" He exclaimed.

"Wonderful!" She yelled, jumping in his embrace. She gazed at his eyes for a moment, full of pure joy and happiness. She hadn't seen this look in his face in a long time. 3 months… she missed it.

"So we're going to the castle??" Odeda asked.

Constantine frowned a bit and grimaced. "Well I am…"

"You? Just you? Why can't I come?"

"Sweetheart you're getting to the end here. I don't want to travel so far out of town away from your midwife just in case something happens."

Odeda sighed. "I guess you're right but…" She straightened up a bit. "I've had a really healthy pregnancy and I am only 35 weeks. I guess if we plan for a week and a half there, it's not likely I would go into labor in that time."

Constantine looked at the letter again. "Babe I really think its best you stay. The travel might be a bit much."

Tears weld up in her eyes. She knew this was a losing battle. "What if… what if I talk to my midwife? What if she gives me the clearance to go? I just think I can be valuable for such an occasion."

Constantine thought for a moment. "Okay, I do really need you so… If the midwife give the okay, then it'll be okay with me." he smiled, embracing his excited wife once again.

xoxo

The train station was bustling with travelers going to and fro. Constantine clutched both their suitcases while standing on the platform. Odeda stood beaming next to her husband, looking at the tickets in her hands. Her majesty was kind to cover travel expenses as they rode them in here.

She was especially thankful her midwife, Malea, gave her the okay to go on the trip. "You're the picture of perfect pregnancy." Malea had labeled her, and she hasn't stopped smiling since.

"Train 564, red line, heading towards Audrella Spring Gardens, now boarding."

The steam train, very traditional in nature, rolled up to the platform. The conductor came out, opening the doors to let its passengers walk out.

"All aboard!" The conductor called out, after clearing the train.

After getting on, the couple made their way to their room. Sliding the door open, they both walked inside. To the left, there were bunk beds made nicely and a ladder leading up to the top bunk. To the right, there was a corner leather bench and a long, 4 foot table. Odeda smiled warmly and put her suitcase on the side of the bottom bunk.

"Dibs!" she cheered, flopping on the bed.

Constantine nodded, returning her smile. "Well I certainly wasn't going to ask you to climb."

Odeda laid down. "Do you mind if I lay down and rest a bit?" She asked him.

He nodded. "Take all the rest you need."

xoxo

Odeda's eyes fluttered open as she woke. Still a bit foggy, she peered through her sleepy eyelids to survey her surroundings. The golden light from the window trickled in, illuminating the room. It shun light on the floor, and onto the long wooden table. Though the shadowed wall next to it blocked some of the light, the light reached to a few of the paintings on the walls. It spilled on the leather bench where Constantine was sitting. Her husband was holding a book, relaxed and resting his head in his other hand. He leaned up against the wall in the corner bench. The light hit his soft auburn hair, making it glimmer and kissing his golden cheeks. He was a very beautiful man, she thought, bringing a smile to her face. Finally she yawned and stretched and sat up.

"Have a nice nap?" He asked, glancing slightly up at her.

"Yeah it was good." She affirmed, sitting up and swinging her legs around. Odeda got up and made her way to the bench next to him.

"I could tell, you were snoring quite loudly." He chuckled, turning the page.

"Yeah yeah." She smirked, waving him off. She reached down to her leather laptop bag and pulled out it out. "Whatcha reading?"

"Ah, a book that uh, Harry recommended to me at the beginning of this year. A theological book."

Odeda nodded, the name still giving her a slight pain through her chest. She chose however, not to dwell on it.

"What's it about?"

"It's about God the Father, and his attributes. Currently reading about His love."

She nodded again, waiting for the laptop to boot up. "Is it good?"

"Oh it's fantastic." He softly smiled. "Very convicting and comforting."

"That's really nice to hear." She said, putting in her password.

A few moments of silent lingered between the two. Odeda felt a bit of sadness begin to loom, and she shifted a bit in her seat. She brought up her book, and continued to type away. However, every few sentences her gaze went from her computer to her husband. She noticed he was reading much more slowly, or so she had thought.

"You know, Harry had great recommendations. Books, games, shows you name it. He was knowledgeable about them too."

"I know I heard you guys till 1 in the morning talking about Pelego the Porcupine." She smirked.

Constantine nodded slowly, a bit solemn. His smile dropped as she noticed he stopped reading, just staring at the page now.

Odeda let the silence linger a bit, memories flashing back in her mind. It was just another day; sunny, not a cloud in the sky. It was a few days since they had heard from Harry, but she reassured her husband he was taking some kind of break. Oh, how she wished she was right. That day, A friend from church was visiting and had just left. Then she got the call, from her husband himself. His voice was shaking, slowly telling her the news.

They found him. No breath, no pulse, and alone.

Constantine was impacted the most out of the two of them. Their friend was his best friend. The sobs she heard in the following days was something she could never forget. The pain in his eyes, his hollowed footsteps and sleepless nights overtook him.

Her pain couldn't even touch his, but she struggled right next to her husband. Maybe it was the fact of how he died, but nevertheless, she couldn't focus on anything the following days. There were multiple times Odeda just broke down alone in her car. She didn't want to burden him with her grief, of course. Despite having a therapist, she couldn't help but take the brunt of it. She had a million unanswered questions. Haunting questions that will hang like ghosts in her closet, and baggage in her heart.

Why did he do it? Why didn't he call someone? Why didn't he get help?

Odeda would've dropped everything to save his life. Could she have done something? Something more? Tell him she loved him more? Be more involved in conversations with him? She clenched her jaw, feeling a tear brim her eye. Despite living a few hours away, Odeda was sure that even if he had any inkling of struggle, she would be the first to risk a speeding ticket just to show up at his doorstep, if it meant he would still be here today. Constantine would do even more. Odeda knew that her husband would even take his place and sacrifice everything to save his friend's life.

Taking a deep breath, she looked over to her husband. Constantine had put the book down, and was now staring off into space. A few tears had escaped from his eyes as well, but remained perfectly still. Odeda scooted closer to him, and put her head on his shoulder, linking her arms through his. She closed her eyes, sighed, and silently prayed. There were no words needed; she had already said everything she needed in the last few months. Now, she will grieve with him in silence. It was comforting; to know someone was there, hurting with them. The gesture was whispering, "I'm here, it's okay, you're safe." without a word being spoken. He didn't have to say a thing; she knew it was all that was needed in the moment. A grief shared meant the absence of suffering alone.

That following night, as they said their "I love yous" and goodnights", she waiting until she could hear soft snores from on top of her. Her mind still resonated on Harry. She reflected on the remembrance service, surrounded by friends and family. Odeda remembered looking around. Hundreds of people there, but not one could do anything about it except wish they had the power to rewind time and make sure they finished the race together. Not a dry eye left that day. But a willingness to live, did.

xoxo

[dannystheone]

LEE KYLE LEE KYLE

hmmm maybe he’s tryna give one of his gay ass speeches and the 3 boys are fed up and want him to shush so ofc they use the most efficient method hehe

GAY ASS SPEECH PLLSKEFNEW

OUT OF ALL THE IDEAS I HAD REQUESTED TO ME THIS WAS THE FUNNIEST

ugh i love you anon LMAKSSK PLEASE

So the summer vibes are PERFECT today so I thought we could have a pool fic!!

WARNINGS: Feet tickles and kids swearing! also kind of a long intro sorry

Kyle's New Pool! (Lee Kyle/Multiple Lers)

Kyle got a new pool installed for the summer in his backyard, but he needs to set some ground rules first!

I hope you like this! :) also I just re-read the whole thing and totally forgot Clyde existed AAA sorry he'll be in the next one

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Energetic boys piled into the Broflovski's home, yelling and shouting with excitement. They were all eager to get a glimpse of what new installment was waiting in the backyard. Kyle had said his parents put something BIG for the summer back there, and to look for themselves to see he wasn't full of shit.

"Oh Gerald! There sure are a lot of them, I wasn't expecting so many guests!" Sheila Broflovski was pretty much plastered to her wall as boys from the fourth-grade class rumbled through her front door, including even a boy wheeling in on a motorized wheelchair.

"Just set out some more chips Sheila- OOF-" Gerald Broflovski was nearly run over by the entourage of shirtless boys as they threw open the sliding glass door in the kitchen and piled outside in the backyard.

"Look! There it is!" Craig Tucker called out. All the boys scrambled to the edge of the water. Kyle wasn't lying. His parents had installed a huge glistening pool in their backyard! The grass and playground they used to have were replaced with concrete, with pillowy lounging areas and table seating off to the sides.

"It's amazing! GAH! It's so hot out here! If I don't get in the water I'm gonna die!" Tweak Tweek winked an eye as Craig turned to him and started applying sunscreen to his shoulders, already blushing from the sun.

"Where the hell is Kyle?" Stan Marsh asked.

"Yeah, should we just get in without him?" Kenny McCormick questioned.

"TIMMEH!" Timmy answered.

"Guys! I'm right here! Isn't it cool?!" Kyle showed up behind the crowd of boys with a few boxes of Capri-Suns under his arms. The fourth-grade class cheered as Kyle set the boxes down on his patio table.

"Yeah, yeah, it's kewl, now let's get in the water already!" Eric Cartman pulled on his goggles and started pulling on his floaties to his upper arms. The boys followed suit by kicking off their flip-flops and throwing their shirts off.

"Woah, woah, woah, hang on fat-ass!" The fourth-grade boys froze and looked at Kyle quizzically. Kyle adjusted his green hat, despite wearing no shirt and green swim trunks.

"Before you get in the pool, there's some rules we have to follow! My dad said if we don't pay attention to the rules, he's not gonna let all of us use it anymore." Kyle explained. The boys looked at each other before they shrugged and continued taking their clothing items off.

"Okay well, what are the rules?" Tolkien Black asked. Kyle splayed his hands to get everyone's attention, but the boys chatted amongst themselves.

"Alright! Rule number one! ABSOLUTELY NO PEEING IN THE POOL! THAT'S DISGUSTING!! I'm looking at you, Cartman!" Cartman yelled out an "AYE!" before Kyle continued. "There is a bathroom located inside the house, first door on your right!"

Kyle looked around to see if he had everyone's attention. He had the attention of Butters, Jimmy, Timmy, and Tolkien, but everyone else was either setting up their toys in the pool or talking to other people.

"Guys! Don't put anything in the pool until I'm done saying the rules! This is important!" Kenny looked up from the pool as he slowly slid on a snorkel. Kyle sighed exasperated as he continued.

"Rule number two! No running around the edge of the pool or the pool area in general! It can get slippery and you don't want to fall! Rule number three! No diving headfirst into the pool, even in the deep area! You can hit your head and get hurt! Cannonballs are okay!" Cartman yawned loud and obnoxiously as the rest of the boys stood around and looked at their phones. Kyle could tell he was losing their attention already.

"Shut up Cartman! Rule number four! You have to put on sunscreen before you enter the pool! My mom is gonna set a timer for 80 minutes for everyone so we can get out of the pool, reapply our sunscreen, and then we can get back in!" The boys looked up at Kyle and groaned loudly.

"Dude we don't need sunscreen, the sun is good for you!" Stan complained. Craig was still helping Tweek apply his sunscreen across his back, so at least he was good. Kyle looked over at Stan with narrowed eyes.

"Dude do you have any idea how much cancer you can get from the sun?! Skin cancer is no joke! There was a study published just this year in 2023 stating that more than 2 people die of skin cancer every hour in the U.S.! 1 in 5 Americans will develop skin cancer by the age of 70! Do you want that to be you?!" Kyle pointed at Stan. Tweek fidgeted as he yanked the sun tan lotion from Craig's hands and started rubbing generous amounts all over his front vigorously.

"GAHAH! THAT'S NOT GONNA BE ME! CRAIG, HELP ME!!" Craig took the bottle back from Tweek and gently started applying more lotion onto Tweek's back as he shot Kyle a venomous glance. Kyle swallowed as he looked back at the boys.

"Dude, we'll put the lotion on. But every 80 minutes is a little much, we'll be fine." Stan shrugged. The boys nodded in agreement.

"Guys you're acting like I'm making up the rules. It's my mom-" Eric rolled his eyes and walked up to stand next to Kyle.

"Kyle, buddy, hey there. Listen, you're talking waaaaay too damn much. Let us into the pool and we can start having fun, okay? I'll deal with your bitch of a mom if she decides to give us crap." Eric clapped Kyle on the back as Kyle stared dumbfounded at Cartman.

"Bitch of a-?! Cartman this is my parent's pool that YOU'RE using, fatass! The least you can do is listen!" Kyle said angrily.

"I think we should listen to Kyle's rules, very much. His p-p-p-pee-parents are nice enough to let us use it on such a hot day." Jimmy spoke up.

"Well, sure! My dad said if I don't put on my suntan lotion every 80 minutes and get skin cancer, he'd ground me for sure!" Butters fidgeted with his hands. Kyle smiled at them both and turned back to Cartman.

"There, you see fat-boy? That's why anyone who doesn't put on sunscreen BEFORE getting in the pool isn't getting in at all!" Kyle exclaimed. The boys all stopped what they were doing and stared at Kyle and Cartman silently. Cartman cupped his chin in thought while Kyle stood next to him with his arms crossed.

"Hmm...ah, I see what you're saying, Kyle. Loud and Clear." Kyle had a triumphant face on before Cartman pointed at Kyle.

"GRAB 'EM!" Cartman exclaimed. All the boys in the fourth-grade class rushed Kyle. Kyle yelped as he was scooped up by the boys, wriggling and fighting to no avail. The boys carried him above their heads to the edge of the pool.

"GUYS! PUT ME DOWN!!" Kyle yelled out. The boys looked at each other and shrugged.

"You wanna be put down?" Stan asked a squirming Kyle.

"YES!!" Kyle shouted. The fourth-grade boys unanimously decided to set Kyle down.

By throwing his ass in the pool.

Kyle hit the water with a huge splash, causing the water to be disturbed and rippled. The boys cheered as they started jumping in after him and cannonballing into the pool. Kyle resurfaced and spit water out from his mouth.

"Pfft- GUYS! We can't be in the pool yet, we need sunscreen!" Kyle complained. Cartman waded into the pool as the boys started splashing each other with water and putting floaties and toys in the pool.

"Uh oh, guys! Kyle's still whining about the sunscreen! We better fix that!" Cartman exclaimed. Kyle turned to yell at Cartman when he felt hands grabbing his arms. Kyle turned back to see that Craig, Tweek, and Kenny started putting their hands on him. More kids were advancing as well.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?! Get off me!" Kyle squeaked as he splashed in the pool, more kids grabbing his legs and arms and wiggling fingers into his bare skin.

"You see Kyle, I knew you were gonna make a big gay ass speech about what we should and shouldn't do before we got into your pool. As you always do such faggoty things before we're allowed to have any fun, I took it upon myself to tell the guys that if you start going off on a tangent and we need a quick way to shut you up, this was the perfect way to get it done." Cartman watched with glory in his eyes as Kyle started wriggling and giggling in the fourth-grade class's grip.

"Guhuhuys! Guhuhuys stohohohop!" Kyle giggled as what felt like hungry invasive fingers squished, kneaded, prodded, poked, spidered, and scribbled his skin. Jimmy, Tolkien, Butters, Stan, Kenny, Craig, and Tweek all zipped and wriggled their fingers into Kyle's skin while keeping his limbs spread apart. Being in the pool didn't help Kyle fight them off, and the water made his skin slick. Timmy watched with Cartman with a frown on his face.

"Uh...Timmeh?" Timmy asked. Cartman turned to Timmy, Kyle splashing in the pool behind him.

"Yes, Timmy?" Cartman asked. Timmy pulled up his phone and started recording.

"Timmy Timmy." Timmy said with an evil glint in his eye. Cartman nodded approvingly as he turned back to Kyle.

Craig held Kyle's arm away from his side and scribbled his fingers in his underarm while Tweek scritched along his ribs. Tolkien and Butters held onto Kyle's ankle and entertained themselves by stroking one finger up his foot and watching his toes clamp up. They did this over and over as it was entertaining each time.

Stan and Kenny held apart Kyle's other arm as Kenny gave Kyle little nibbles on his side and blew raspberries in his belly, which made Kyle buck and squeal. Stan scritched in Kyle's armpit while making conversation with Craig. Jimmy had Kyle's other foot all to himself. He held his ankle in the crook between his arm and his side in a headlock as he scrubbed Kyle's foot up and down with one hand. Kyle was quickly going ballistic already as 70 fingers played him at once.

"GUHUHUYS PLEHEHEASE!! THIHIHIS IHIHIS CRAHAHAZY!!" Kyle yelled out, the water splashing all around them. Kyle was floating on his back in the water being held up by the guys holding his limbs apart, so he had no leverage to squirm or escape anywhere. Kyle's eyes screwed shut as he felt fingers squish the pudge on his belly, to which he gave a loud reaction.

"Wow Kenny, you really like Kyle's stomach huh," Stan commented. Kenny shrugged and scribbled his fingers all over Kyle's tummy, reaching from the bottom of his ribs to the tops of his hips with his hands.

"Oh hey, I wanna help! Let me try!" Butters left Tolkien at Kyle's foot and went up to the opposite side of Kenny to add another ten fingers to Kyle's midsection. Kenny started scribbling his fingers in Kyle's bottom ribs while Butters dipped his fingers in Kyle's belly button and pinched his hips.

"GAHAHAHA!! NOHOHOHO!! STOHOHOP PLEHEHEASE!!" Kyle pleaded, his body getting tired with all the exertion from trying to get away from so many fingers. He was gonna have a killer six-pack in the morning.

"Aww, well he's just ticklish everywhere, isn't he! That's so sweet!" Butters beamed at Kenny while Tolkien decided to experiment and scritched his fingers underneath Kyle's knee while still pulling his leg apart. Kyle let out a loud cackle as he tried pulling his leg back.

"Hey, how's that working for you, T-T-Tolkien?" Tolkien looked up at Jimmy with a smile on his face.

"Oh, it's working great! He gets really loud when I get right here. You wanna try?" Jimmy nodded and grabbed a better hold of Kyle's leg, and started scratching his fingers under Kyle's knee. Sure enough, Kyle started pulling on both legs trying to reclaim them with this new technique.

"Hahaha, awesome!" Tolkien gave Jimmy a thumbs-up as Craig halted his tickling for a moment to stretch his wrist. Cartman pointed a finger at Craig as he sat on the steps.

"Keep going, Craig! We gotta tire the Jew out so he doesn't bitch for the rest of the night!" Cartman demanded.

"NOHOHO YOU DOHOHON'T! JUHUHUST STOHOHOP!! I'M SORREHEHEE!!" Kyle yelled out, as Craig responded in his monotone voice.

"I'm doing the best that I can. His pulling is hard on my wrist." Craig rotated his wrist before holding onto Kyle's bicep and going back to a hidden gem he found. Between Kyle's middle ribs and back where the skin joined, Craig scribbled in that one spot to make Kyle scream a manly sound. Tweek winked as he kept his tickling confined to Kyle's side.

"So anyway, Red Racer reaches the finish line right as Blue Racer does, so the judges have to go back and watch the footage to see who actually won the race. It was a nail-biter." Craig explained to Stan. Stan nodded as he listened, but mostly looked down at his super best friend getting the shit tickled out of him. He had a forced smile plastered on his face with his eyes screwed shut tightly, with an occasional pull or tug of his limbs. Stan couldn't imagine being in this situation, but he wasn't gonna be the one to stop it. What if Cartman ordered they all go after him next? He couldn't handle that.

"...Yeah, so what did the judges say?" Stan asked as he scribbled his fingers in Kyle's underarm. He noticed he didn't have to try too hard to keep Kyle's arm away from his side to reach this spot.

"We won't know until next week. I can hardly wait. Red Racer always wins every race, but it's the season finale, so it could have a different ending." Craig discussed calmly as if he wasn't tickling a wildly splashing boy with six other boys.

"Timmy? Timmy Timmy?" Timmy asked Cartman, still recording on his phone. Cartman thought about it for a moment.

"Hmm, I'm not sure. Let's see." Cartman cupped his hands around his mouth and called out to Kyle. "How you doing Jew? Ready to give up the sunscreen?" He called out. Kyle shook his head bravely as he continued to laugh out.

"NOHOHOHO!! YOHOHOU STIHIHIHLL NEEHEHEHEED TO WEHEHEHEAR IT!!" Cartman shrugged as he went back to lounging in the pool.

"You heard him, boys! He wants more!" The fourth-grade class worked diligently, their fingers more energized than before.

"GAHAHAHAD!! I DOHOHOHON'T WAHAHANT MOHOHOHORE!! PLEHEHEHEASE!!" Kyle laughed out earnestly as more spots were found on him, to in-between his thighs, to his hands, to his inner elbows, and the skin above his knees. His thighs were a winner, however. Jimmy and Tolkien pulled apart his legs and hugged his knee to grip and scribble their fingers in his inner thigh, causing Kyle to squeal and cackle loudly.

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Gerald and Sheila watched from the closed slider door, smiling gently. It was a rare sight to see Kyle acting like a kid for once with all his friends.

"He gets it from you, you know." Gerald held Sheila around her waist while they watched their son and pattered his fingers along her side. Sheila twitched as she bat Gerald's hand away with a blushing face.

"Oh stop it, Gerald!~ Save it for Saturday, honey~" Sheila cooed as the two shared a kiss, and turned for the living room as their son splashed in the water.

````

"CHRIHIST!! SOMEONE- *hic* so-SOHOHOHOMEONE HEHEHEHELP!!" Kyle cackled out as he felt Tolkien's fingers invade his toe spaces and Tweek and Kenny took turns blowing raspberries in his hip divets. They were having fun with this, actually.

"Wow, Kyle has a lot more endurance than I thought. If I had endurance like Kyle I would be so happy." Craig commented. Stan started to get uneasy. Kyle started hiccuping a second ago, and his red cheeks were concerning.

"Alright Cartman, that should be enough right? I mean, look at him." The boys stilled their fingers for a moment. Kyle still giggled to himself and twitched from the air moving around him.

"Aww, the poor guys all tickled out. Aren't you buddy?" Butters patted Kyle's stomach, which Kyle jerked away from reflexively.

"Buhuhutters- *hic* doho-dohon't touch me-" Kyle snickered as Butters fidgeted. Cartman stood up from the pool steps and looked down at Kyle. Kyle's eyes winced having to look up into the sun-filled sky.

"Well, Kyle? What do you say? Are we forgetting the sunscreen?" The boys waited intently for an answer; their arms still wrapped around Kyle's arms and legs while the water waved around them.

"Fuck no, fat-ass! We can't forget it, my parents will find out! Please, just put some on and we can start playing!" Kyle pleaded. Cartman sighed and gave the signal for the boys to start tickling again. Kyle felt the boys' hands around him shift and place themselves on his body.

"Wait wait WAIT! Okay okay! I'll forget it! I'll forget the sunscreen I swear!" Kyle yelled out. Cartman turned back and pointed a finger in Kyle's face.

"If I hear a single word about sunscreen or rules again from you Kyle, you're gonna get it! Alright, let him go." The fourth-graders slowly released Kyle. Kyle rubbed his wrists as the boys saw their fingers onslaught over Kyle's torso, the pink swipes and scratches on his white skin. Kyle looked to the side as he rubbed his shoulder silently.

"Well, I still need to put on my sunscreen, or I'll get grounded!" Butters announced. Kyle looked up at him.

"Yeah, I n-n-need to put on mine too, a comic always has to look his b-best!" Jimmy added.

"Hey honey, mind helping me put some sunscreen on my back? I could use it." Craig asked Tweek.

"GAH! O-Of course! Skin cancer is no joke!" Tweek winked as Craig smiled softly at him.

"We're all gonna put ours on, too." Tolkien, Stan and Kenny nodded in agreement.

"TIMMEH!!" Timmy smiled and exclaimed. All the boys started getting out of the pool to put their sunscreen on and made sure everyone was properly covered. Kyle had a huge smile on that wasn't forced on his face.

"Thanks you guys, you're the best! Now we can play all we want in the sun without getting hurt!" Kyle exclaimed. The boys all cheered and cannonballed back into the pool while Cartman rolled his eyes.

````

"Aw dude, sick!" Stan shouted upon seeing Cartman at the bus stop on Monday. Cartman's face was pink with white peelies all over his ears, neck, and cheeks. He had suffered bad sunburn from the pool with no sunscreen. He rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms in a huff.

"Whatever! Sunscreen is overrated and gay as hell! I don't peel, I'll just get tan after this!" Kenny and Kyle walked to the bus stop and stood next to Cartman. Kenny burst out laughing upon seeing Cartman, and Kyle let out a few sputters as well.

"AYE! You all better shut the fuck up! I don't need any damn sunscreen!" Cartman defended.

"HE LOOKS LIKE A FAT TOMATO!" Kenny cried out. Kyle and Stan both started laughing hysterically as Cartman yelled out at them.

"I'M NOT FAT! SHUT UP!" Cartman shouted.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, we get it, you big baby." Stan rolled his eyes as he clapped Eric on the back. Eric yelped as the sunburn on his back stung from Stan's slap.

"ACK! Don't do that, retard! I got sunburn-" Cartman called out, but shut himself up as his friends leered at him.

"What was that you said, fat-ass? You got sunburn?" Kyle said with a shit-eating grin as he slapped Eric's back. Eric let out a screech as he started running down the road, away from the bus stop. Well, as well as he could run anyway. The three boys easily caught up to him and slapped all their hands across his sunburned back.

"YOU GUYS- ACK! I'M SO SERIOUSLY- OW! STOP IT- ACK! STOP!- OW!"

After this experience, Cartman learned his lesson. He was never caught without sunscreen again, and abided by all of Kyle's rules before entering his pool.

[julialus]

connected by a single chain Sauron × reader

Sauron × fem! Elf! witch! reader, Annatar × reader, Hallbrand × reader

If suddenly you are tired of reading works about evil reader (I have nothing against it), then here is my work with a suffering reader (?), if you can call it that. Perhaps the hero is a reader who is drawn to darkness.

Plot: is it scary to be tied to his will? Or maybe it's still nice.

Warning: mind control, infliction of physical and moral pain, restriction of freedom, triggers of relationships with parents.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Rings of Power or his characters, and I do not claim that they are my own.

If you liked the work, please let me know!

Ilyaris is the union of two souls, when the Master of the will binds himself with the will of the obeying one, from which any word of the Master is the law for the obeying one. (The term, coined by me personally, is not a canon for Tolkien)

------

You're standing in a dark room, your hands are chained to the wall. You didn't have the strength to sit on the semblance of a bed, and you decided to get up. You have been here for several weeks now, in his captivity. You've already lost count of how many days have passed. Sauron is standing in front of you. He walked around you and got up from behind.

"You must obey me, my will," he said, his eyes filled with confidence. It seemed like forever since he captured you.

He put his hands on your shoulders. A shudder went through your body.

He ran his hands over your arms and then moved to your waist. You arched your back, feeling his breath on your neck. He touched his lips to your neck, gently running his tongue.

"Either voluntarily, or I will break you. But I'll get you."

Pain squeezed your head, you screamed and leaned forward, but he didn't let you do it.

Standing in front of you, he continued to look at you.

He put his hand under your chin and lifted it so that you looked into his eyes. The pain in my head stopped. He reached out to kiss you. His lips pressed against yours, but you didn't intend to kiss him and bit his lower lip. Sauron recoiled and ran his finger over his bloody lip.

"And you're brave, honey."

He squeezed his hands on your neck and you began to choke, instinctively raising your hands to your neck.

"Honestly, I'm tired of waiting. How does such a young girl have such a strong will?" You let out a whimper.

The pain spread to your head and then to your neck and you collapsed into his soft embrace.

And here you are, still here, but already on the bed. Waiting for him to torture you again so that you obey him. And she entered Ilyaris with him. But what choice do you have, he needs your power, it will help him heal Middle-earth.

Now he started to go back to your memories, inflicting physical pain was not enough for him.

And here you are sitting in front of Mom, her kind eyes are looking at you and she is smiling.

"You know he's going to survive because of you," she whispered.

"Who?" you asked.

A lot of strangers appeared behind her, saying something unclear.

"Dark Lord, you have to help him," someone said. And everyone repeated "help, he won't hurt you"

"Sauron will live, thanks to you" Dad came out from behind your mom's back "We died for this so that your talent would wake up"

Everything around you began to tremble, goosebumps and trembling went through your body. Your head was squeezed, you tried to stand up, but you couldn't.

"Sauron will survive because of you "

"Nooo!!!" You screamed, your body jerked and everything disappeared. Now you are standing on the edge of a cliff, in front of you is the most beautiful landscape, birds are singing around.

"That's how it can be" he stands next to me, his blond hair swaying in the wind.

"Agree it's beautiful" he smiled, all the while he was looking at you "Let me be with you" he touched your hand.

You nod in agreement. He broke you, you couldn't resist anymore. You felt the metal on your hand. Shackles. It brought you back to reality, to a dark room.

And here you are sitting on a chair, tied to it, and Sauron is standing in front of you.

He takes your left hand and runs the dagger along it. You cry out in pain. Your body is numb from all that pain, torture, you can't do anything. A trickle of scarlet blood has flowed out of his palm, he cuts his own and black blood flows from there. Your hands lock and he starts saying something in the black dialect. You don't understand anything.

Now you are bound, his word is law. An invisible collar has formed on your neck, he will pull and you will fulfill his every wish. Your spirit is his spirit. He kissed your hand and said.

"Over time, you will love me and you won't even be able to breathe without me."

It's been a few weeks since that moment, it seems you've started to get used to his will in your head. He could talk without acting. It seems he really felt the feelings.

But he didn't have time to fully enjoy his power. Adar killed him, and you ran away.

------------------------

You woke up in a heavy sweat. It's okay, it's just a nightmare from the past. Many centuries have passed since those days, without him in your head. Ilyaris without a Master was torn apart and you were freed. I went to study my magic, my abilities. You've changed your appearance. The scar on your arm is almost healed, but no matter how hard you try, you can't remove it.

Now you live in Eregion, helping the elves and Lord Celebrimbor with your magic and gathering, and no one knows about your past. They don't need to know about someone who will never come back. Or, as you hoped, he won't come back.

Lady Galadriel thought otherwise, since almost two months ago she had gone to rest. After the High King deemed that her quest for Sauron was now over.

You rubbed your eyes and looked out the window. The sun comes out from behind the horizon a little bit.

When you got dressed, there was a knock on the door. It was Mirdania.

"Your help is needed in the infirmary," you looked at her questioningly and followed her.

When you entered the infirmary, you saw a man with short brown hair lying on the bed, moaning softly. Galadriel was standing next to him. When she heard footsteps, she turned around.

"Y/N," she said, smiling.

"What happened? you asked, going to the washbasin to wash your hands.

"An enemy spear, six days ago. We rode without rest," she said and went out with Elrond.

You asked the healers to come out so that no one would bother you.

The man opened his eyes slightly.

"What's your name?" You asked.

"Hallbrand" he tried to get up.

"You'd better lie down." You ran a cold cloth over his forehead. "Healers are all models, I can only relieve the pain and put you to sleep." You understand the hands and begin your magic. The man falls asleep, and you go on to talk to Galadriel.

---------------------

If you liked it, be sure to unsubscribe and I will write a sequel!!

P.s. connected by a single chain. This is a translation of one song in Russian. I advise you to audition. — Связанные одной цепью.

[silmarillisms]

fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinn. give me, and thus all of tumblr, your thoughts on tom bombadil. you said you had thoughts and i wanna hear them.

Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow, Bright blue his jacket is and his boots are yellow, Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water, Old Tom Bombadil and the River Daughter.

Throughout the whole of the Legendarium, Tom Bombadil is widely considered to be one of the murkiest and strangest parts. He is loved or hated by fans and there are very rarely any middling opinions. The questions about his origins and what precisely he is will never be answered but I actually don't think that's terribly important. I'll get into why later in this meta, but I'd like to open by stating that I love Tom Bombadil and I think that his inclusion in the Legendarium (specifically in The Lord of the Rings - he is not present in The Hobbit or the Silmarillion) provides the reader with an important lens through which we can view Tolkien's world, the themes of his works, and his ethos as an author.

Before I go further, I will state that the fourth episode of season two of Rings of Power was one of my favorite episodes so far across both seasons. I understand why it might not be for some other people, but I think that it captured one of my favorite characters in a way that I never thought I'd get to see on screen.

Before I go further, the origin of Tom Bombadil, his exact nature, and what he represents is possibly the most disputed portion of the Legendarium. What I've written below is my personal opinion and literary analysis at work, nothing more than that. There are other opinions and I'm not going into them, although I have read many of them. This is my interpretation, which is one among many.

Eldest, that's what I am. Mark my words, my friends: Tom was here before the river and the trees; Tom remembers the first raindrop and the first acorn. He made paths before the Big People, and saw the Little People arriving. He was here before the Kings and the graves and the Barrow-wights. When the Elves passed westward, Tom was here already, before the seas were bent. He knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless, before the Dark Lord came from Outside.

Our first and only real meeting with Tom Bombadil (aside from the poems in The Adventures of Tom Bombadil) comes near the beginning of The Fellowship of the Ring in the chapter 'In the House of Tom Bombadil'. The quoted passage above is, in context, Tom's response to Frodo finally plucking up the courage to ask who he is, this jolly figure whose song terrifies the Barrow-wights into flight.

While the entire passage is interesting, it is the last line that I find truly fascinating: He knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless, before the Dark Lord came from Outside.

I believe that this is a clear reference to the arrival of Melkor and the other Ainur in the Silmarillion. This means that it was Eru who created Tom Bombadil - Tom was a product of the First Song. Tom wandered the hills and vales of Arda before anything and anyone else was there. But why?

What is he? Who is he to command such power that when he tells Frodo to simply sing a song to call for him if they are troubled and Frodo does so, the utterance of his very name shatters a wall?

Iarwain Ben-adar, Oldest and Fatherless, the Elves and Dunedain call him. Orald, Ancient, the men of Rohan call him. Forn, Out of the Ancient Days, the Dwarves call him.

(As a side note, the goat in episode four is named Iarwain and it's a lovely reference. Dunno who else caught that, but it's great.)

I think that Tom Bombadil is Arda, the personification of the land. He is the rolling hills, the valleys and dales. He is the waterlands where he makes his home in the Third Age. He is the rolling plains of Rohan, the deep forests of Mirkwood, the high fells of Rhudaur, the distant deserts of Rhun.

He is the utterly unselfish and primordial joy of the natural world being permitted by a benevolent deity to know itself. Fitting then that he is wed to Goldberry, the River Daughter, who is herself the turning of the seasons - the Land wed to the Seasons that shape it.

This is fitting in relation to Letter 19 in The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien where Tolkien confirms that Tom, to him, represented the soul of the countryside that Tolkien saw disappearing all around him in Oxfordshire.

And therein lies the reason that Tom Bombadil is so powerful, why his song so surely masters that which it seeks to master. It also tells us why the One Ring has no effect on Tom Bombadil. Remember:

Indeed, so much did Tom know, and so cunning was his questioning, that Frodo found himself telling him more about Bilbo and his hopes and fears he had told before even to Gandalf. Tom wagged his head up and down, and there was a glint in his eyes when he heard of the Riders. 'Show me the precious Ring!' The said suddenly in the midst of the story: and Frodo, to his own astonishment, drew out the chain from his pocket, and unfastening the Ring handed it at once to Tom. It seemed to grow larger as it lay for a moment on his big brown-skinned hand. Then suddenly he put it to his eye and laughed. For a second the hobbits had a vision, both comical and alarming, of his bright blue eye gleaming through the circle of gold. Then Tom put the Ring round the end of his little finger and held it up to the candlelight. For a moment the hobbits noticed nothing strange about this. Then they gasped. There was no sign of Tom disappearing! Tom laughed again, and then he spun the Ring in the air and it vanished in a flash. Frodo gave a cry - and Tom leaned forward and handed it back to him with a smile.

And shortly after this, Tom can see Frodo when he puts the Ring on as well. Why would a Ring that tempts those who have desires for dominion and power have any effect on a creature that desires neither? Who is not able to desire either?

What do the woodlands desire? The creeks, the dells, the rocky highlands? What power does the river desire that it does not already have? You cannot tempt, manipulate, or deceive that which has no desire to manipulate.

There's another dichotomy at play here too: order and chaos, and they are not as obvious as they may at first seem. Sauron desires perfect order, brought about by the domination of industry. In the context of this dichotomy, our heroes are not different. Men, Elves, Hobbits, these are creatures of order too. This is why Sauron is capable of dominating them, and why he wants to! It feeds into his distaste for Orcs as well. Kings, thanes, mayors, cities, civilization in general, these are the things from which societies are constructed.

Tom Bombadil is chaos. He is a song echoing through the woods. His marriage to Goldberry is attended by the animals of the forest. When he loses his boat, it is retrieved for him by otters (who forget the oars). He bounces from page to page full of nonsensical rhymes, possessing love for nature and all of the creatures that inhabit it. He's the surprise bluster of a storm that ruins your picnic and the gentle glimmer of sunlight that wakes you the morning after.

Tom provides a necessary dichotomy between the beautiful chaos of the natural world and ordered civilization in a story penned by an author who truly loved the former. There is a reason he was left in the story.

Consider what Glorfindel says about him during the Council of Elrond:

'But in any case,' said Glorfindel, 'to send the Ring to him would only postpone the day of evil. He is far away. We could not now take it back to him, unguessed, unmarked by any spy. And even if we could, soon or late the Lord of the Rings would learn of its hiding place and would bend all his power towards it. Could that power be defied by Bombadil alone? I think not. I think that in the end, if all else is conquered, Bombadil will fall, Last as he was First; and then Night will come.'

Again, it is the later lines of this excerpt that are most important to me. Tom will fall if all else is conquered. He will fall last as he was first. I do not think that Sauron's personal might or his armies would be capable of felling Tom. I think what Glorfindel is implying that Tom cannot exist in a world where all else has fallen to order and industry. That is why Tom would fall last: there would be nothing left for him in a world of steel and wheels.

Tom Bombadil is an intentional enigma. If you read the text and think that you have no idea who or what he is and what his meaning in the story is meant to be, Tolkien's response is good, you're not supposed to. Sometimes, things don't need to be ordered and sensical to be beautiful.

Hop along, my little friends, Up the Withywindle. Tom's going on ahead, Candles for to kindle. Down west sinks the sun, Soon you will be croakin'. When the night-shadows fall, Then the door will open.

Out of the window-panes, Light will twinkle yellow. Fear no alder black, Heed no hoary willow. Fear neither root nor bough, Tom goes on before you. Hey now, merry dol, We'll be waiting for you.

[tyklianzi]

Hii love your translation to pieces! How have you been? Have you been reading/watching any other media (aside from TYK) recently that u would rec?

Hello! Thank you so much for your message! I'm kind of in the mud trenches rn but I am very happy to be remembered ❤️❤️❤️

I am going to ramble a lot so sorry about that and thanks for giving me permission to do so.

I would have a hard time putting together "recs for someone who enjoyed TYK", because I think it's an unusual type of story. It's about a protagonist who's so tired of being a main character (or even a secondary character). All he wants is to be a side character who enjoys himself and isn't important enough to get hit by plot shrapnel. I remember @specialability making the astute observation that TYK has a lot in common with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. What do side characters do, when the main characters aren't on stage? But TYK emanates joy that you don't find in the other existentialist stories I've read (which may say more about my own deficiency than the genre itself). Zhou Zishu is dying, but he finds a lot of happiness in spending every day exactly as he wants to. Taking care of Zhang Chengling, untangling the Glazed Spiral mystery, and messing around with Wen Kexing: this is all meaningful to him because it's how he wants to spend the rest of his life. However short that life may be.

That being said, since you gave me permission, I'm going to talk about what I've read recently!

One Hundred Years of Solitude (Gabriel Garcìa Márquez) left a really strong impression on me. I guess because the characters in the Buendía family (the novel tells this family's story) trap themselves into lives that they don't enjoy at all. Some of them live for a hundred years or more, but they never find the companionship and happiness that they crave. I wish I could say more about this story, but it really made me want to read more magic realism, and learn about Latin American history to understand the context.

I watched AMC's Interview with the Vampire and it ate my brain. One similarity between the Vampire Chronicles and Faraway Wanderers is that their television adaptations tore apart the source material to make something new. And I love what they did with Interview with the Vampire, because they kept what was so interesting from the books: the struggle between a vampire's murderous, predatory nature, and their moral sense as a sapient being. The show also makes explicit the parallel between this struggle and Louis' struggle with his queerness: should he live in hypocrisy, condemning his true nature even though he can't change it? Or should he abandon the moral scruples that (in his mind) connect him with his vestigial humanity? It makes sense to me, and I love the story of the show. There are some elements I miss from the books, but to me, the show surpasses the sum of its parts.

I'm currently reading Tolkien's Silmarillion! I guess one thread that unites the three works I've mentioned today is "unbelievably messy family drama". Which again, is notably missing from TYK...but it is one of my personal favorite ingredients. Elf aristocratic infighting goes off the chain like nothing else. The Silmarillion is a tragedy, you know? When you read the Lord of the Rings, you feel that the most spectacular days of this world have passed already. You see those splendors in the Silmarillion and know that they're doomed. It's a lot more gothic than I expected. I have to space out how much I read at a time. I've just started Beren and Lùthien, which promises to deliver something of a breather.

Sorry again for this massive wall of text. I love to chat. Come back again anytime. Haha!

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

"Politics" in fiction.

First: This has been said many times, by many people. But now I'm taking my turn: All Art is Political. Simply choosing what stories are important enough to tell is a political choice. Choosing your protagonist, your primary audience, and who you decide to leave out of your stories are all definitely political choices.

Second: I've heard complaints (comments) from people that they don't want to deal with politics in their fiction, because they go to it because they want to escape the "heavy issues" of the real world. Which is completely valid, and reminds me of this quote from J. R. R. Tolkien:

“Why should a man be scorned if, finding himself in prison, he tries to get out and go home? Or if he cannot do so, he thinks and talks about other topics than jailers and prison-walls?”*

On the other hand, its hard to escape from the prison if you spend your all your energy telling yourself it doesn't exist, and that you're not really in prison at all. Sometimes, your escapist fantasy is to daydream about punching through those prison walls with your bare fists. Which brings me to:

Third (the whole reason I'm making this post): Some villains don't need to be redeemed. Some of them just need to Die in a Fire, and for their ashes to be eternally cursed.

*"On Fairy Stories" by J.R.R. Tolkien, originally a lecture presented to The Andrew Lang Society 8 March, 1939, later published as an expanded essay by Oxford University Press, 4 December, 1947, and finally republished in the two essay collection, Tree and Leaf in 1964 (where I first read it, sometime in the 2000s, having found an old book my parents owned on my bookshelf).

[sauron-kraut]

Summary: Mairon binds the Witch-King of Angmar to him with the little aid of a song.

I wrote this little thing to honor @lvsifer 's wonderful fic Night Moth, which gives me life.

This can be read as an accompanying piece.

A conversation with my dear @cilil  about the power of Ainurin magic through song inspired what I did with this drabble. 🖤

I hope you all appreciate that I wrote this at the office and that I'm posting it from my work computer lol.

Candles flicker and make the walls dance. Sat on the floor they face each other, the Maia holds the witch’s hands in his. The king looks calm. He is twisting one of Mairon’s rings.

Sing for me, the king had demanded. Share your chants with me. And Mairon does. He sings in an old tongue the Witch-King does not know, a song of shaping ore and shaping hearts and taking root.

He sings of forging, tempting, lust and lies. Of breaking and remaking things.

The Witch-King flinches, as if struck.

What will it do?

Mairon smiles.

You will know soon.

[angelxd-3303]

Sorry if this is like a weird question and I'm not exactly sure how to word it so bear with me, but do you have any tips on how to write more beautifully? Like poetically because you do it so well and I like it.

Yeah, that's it I love your art and I hope you have a nice day!

Not weird at all! I honestly think that the things I used to read impacted the way I write. I was the kind of person who would read classical novels, so I've found that I have kind of an old-fashioned way of writing. My recommendation? Read classics. The way authors like L.M Montgomery and Jules Verne wrote is so fundamentally different from modern novels, and it really brings a poetic edge to my own writing.

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne inspired me with it's unique characters.

White Fang by Jack London and Black Beauty by Anna Sewell helped me look at the world through a different perspective.

I cannot overstate the influence that J.R.R Tolkien had on my writing style. The way he describes places down to the trees and mountains, in a way that you can picture it in your mind, is so inspiring.

The Education of Little Tree by Forrest Carter is a wonderful story that celebrates the Cherokee culture, and the way nature and our place in it is described in such a beautiful way.

Another factor is the fact that I grew up studying the Bible. One could say that consistently reading a book over 6,000 years old and researching topics related to it tends to impact your writing, lol.

In short, my writing style has been built up for years. It was heavily influenced by the things I read, and I cannot recommend classic novels enough. Taking a page out of the books of the masters is a wonderful way to elevate both your personal vocabulary and your writing. Below is a list of my favorite no els, some of which I've mentioned:

1) Any Jules Verne novel. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Journey to the Center of the Earth, ect.

2) The Education of Little Tree by Forrest Carter.

3) White Fang by Jack London.

4) Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell.

5) Anne of Green Gables series by L.M. Montgomery.

6) The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings by J.R.R Tolkien.

7) Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

8) Black Beauty by Anna Sewell.

9) The Woman in the Wall by Patrice Kindl

10) The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett

Hope this helps!