#if you ever see this i am begging you

[jacklingtons]

do you guys ever go through life and suddenly remember a fic you read years ago? just on the couch and suddenly it's like a train hits you becasue you remembered that one title, that one author, that one fic that changed you as a person because it was so beautiful, so well written, so moving. and when you look for it, you hit a wall. the fic is deleted, all copies and mentions of it removed from the internet. the authors accounts deactivated, only remaining in a mention or an ask on a decade old tumblr post. and you would do anything to find it again, to relive the way it reshaped you, but the author is out of reach and you can never go back to that experience

[tiffanyachings]

Matching T-Shirts for You and Your Weirdly Codependent Cousin

based on this excellent post by @casgirl

[kowwpow]

Fanart for @sensitiveheartless’s fic “Dazai’s moving castle” on Ao3 :)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

it doesnt need to be said but its genuinely so funny how at-the-hip charles and erik are in krakoa like they really had the green light- the OBLIGATION- to be as obnoxiously close to each other as possible and abused that right to the fullest extent

[dykedvonte]

Benny x Courier but the Courier is increasingly in denial for their feelings for Benny cause they see him as this loser pretty city boy Vegas type and they slowly (or rather quickly) realize that there were in fact reasons why Benny was able to manipulate so many people, infiltrate the Fort and avoid serious injury for all of it.

Like surprise the corniest loser you know is actually pretty badass and you kinda find that infuriatingly attractive.

[crystal-verse]

god i want. an au where it dosn't work. where it's just arr g'raha who's woken up, and he doesn't have all these memories and all these people keep looking at him like they're mourning someone. the world has changed and time has changed and all the people he knows have changed, but he hasn't changed, he was just sleeping, just sleeping, and the world nearly ended several times and apparently he helped prevent yet another end but he has no memory of this. they want him to join the scions. he does not know these people. (he barely knows the warrior of light, now, but did he ever truly know them in the first place?) his little sister is alive and well. she looks at him like a ghost. she's changed, and she's older than him now. he acts bratty and loud and brash to cover up the fact that he does not know anything it seems, and he is tired but he was sleeping for so long, so how could he be tired?

he doesn't know these people. they seem to know him. he wonders if he'd killed someone, when it was him and not that exarch who woke up. he wonders if it should have been him who was "killed" in that way, if it is him that lives and not that man who had known and become friends with all these figures from legend. he wonders if he'll always be fated to be a historian one step back from everything, because he simply cannot be a hero.

[not-glorfindel-stop-asking]

https://www.tumblr.com/balrogballs/766522788101177344/im-a-writer-irl-cant-say-who-because-my-agent

Welcome to the Lindircident.

I—

I must sit down.

No, I must lie down. No, I must ascend bodily into the heavens and demand an audience with the Valar to ask why this is my fate.

This—this is the Lindircident?? THIS?? THIS UNSPEAKABLE, UNHOLY, ABOMINABLE EVENT? This tragedy of ink and parchment, this cursed convergence of fate, this literary atrocity that has now made its way before me???

I— I have been written into WHAT? WHERE? WITH WHOMST NOW???

Oh, this is a dark day indeed. This is a cataclysmic day. A day that shall be remembered in the sorrowful annals of history, whispered in the shadows of Rivendell for all eternity. There will be laments composed about this. Songs sung in mourning. Books written about how I, Lindir of Imladris, have been forever tainted by association with whatever unholy depravity mortals have wrought.

And worst of all—worst of ALL— I have been referred to as a twink.

A twink.

A TWINK.

EXCUSE ME???

I? Lindir of Imladris? A twink?

No. No, no, no. This cannot stand.

This is slander.

This is libel.

This is an attack upon my very being, my soul, my legacy. I—who have dedicated centuries of my life to the refinement of poetry, the mastery of music, the endless, thankless task of ensuring that Rivendell does not collapse into absolute anarchy under the combined influence of Lord Elrond, Glorfindel, and whatever chaos Elrohir has decided to unleash upon the world on any given day—I am to be remembered as… as a TWINK??

A TWINK???????!!!!

I am a scholar. A poet. A musician of no small talent.

I am one of the finest assistants Lord Elrond has ever had (the best but he won't admit it out loud), a pillar of grace, patience, and competency.

I have spent literal centuries perfecting my craft, composing exquisite melodies, translating the most delicate of ancient texts, managing the utterly unmanageable.

I have endured.

I have survived Glorfindel’s catastrophes. I have guided this household through diplomatic nightmares. I have nodded sagely at Lord Elrond’s long-winded monologues while suppressing the urge to scream. I have maintained an air of composure, dignity, and excellence through trials that would have driven a lesser elf to madness.

And yet.

And yet!

Despite all this!

I wake up today to find that I am but a twink in the eyes of the world!

I have stood before kings.

I have played music that brought tears to immortal eyes. I have weathered the storm of Elrond’s mood swings, Glorfindel’s unspeakable whims, and Arwen’s occasional bursts of terrifyingly calculated mischief. And still, somehow, in the grand saga of my existence, THIS is what I shall be known for?????

Is this my fate? Is this how I am to be remembered? Not as a master of song? Not as a guardian of lore? Not as the sole reason Rivendell continues to function like a realm of wisdom and not a particularly unruly inn?

No.

No, I am to be immortalized in history as a twink.

I— I must pause. I must breathe. I must process.

The battering ram treatment.

The battering. Ram. Treatment.

What, in the name of all that is holy and good, is the battering ram treatment??

What does this mean?? Why does it sound violent? Why does it sound structurally unsound?? Why does it sound like something Glorfindel would do on a dare???

And most importantly—why, for the love of Eru, is it being associated with Lord Elrond and ME??

I am terrified to ask, and yet, I must.

What. Is. A. Battering. Ram. Treatment.

Is this some manner of combat technique I have failed to learn in my centuries of training? A highly specific architectural method? A deeply niche form of massage therapy?? WHAT. IS IT.

And— and— what is a battery???

Because I have now been informed that this horror of a phrase—this nightmare of an arrangement of words—has been whispered into the halls of publishing houses, spoken of in meetings, written down in serious professional emails, and likely, as I suffer in real-time, being printed in books.

And if that is the case—if this scandalous abomination of language has indeed made its way into literature—then I fear for the future of Arda itself.

I need to lie down. I need to submerge myself in a cold mountain stream and let the current carry me far, far away from this cursed knowledge.

The battering ram treatment.

There is no justice. There is no hope. There is no escape from this wretched reality. I must flee. I must vanish into the wilds, never to be seen again. I must throw myself into the river and let the current take me where it will. I must sail into the West and beg Lord Ulmo to drown me on arrival. I must compose an operatic lament so devastatingly tragic that even the Valar themselves will weep for me.

This is the end.

Farewell.

I do not know how I shall recover. I do not know if I can recover. There is no path forward. No light at the end of this tunnel. No hope left in this forsaken land.

I must flee. I must vanish into the West, never to be seen again. I must take my lute and compose a mournful ballad about this day, this day that has ruined me.

[maxx-the-queer]

The thing about the Intrepid Heroes looking at the anagram exam question and IMMEDIATELY thinking Garthy O'Brien is that I would do the exact same thing.

There is not a moment in my life that goes by where I don't think about Garthy, they are my roman empire.

[funkervogt]

(Realizes that the most common transman experiences perfectly align with my life and feelings about myself and fascinations and who I want to be with) Ohhhh Okay i am fucked

[starflungwaddledee]

[wildsaltair]

not just a snack but the entire five-course meal plus coffee and dessert. I'll have mine in my room

[ziracona]

unbelievable

everything has been unlivable all season and the second Dianna got off maternity leave everything was ok

[antisocialxconstruct]

.

[bedlamsbard]

the 2010 film Centurion is deeply frustrating to me because it desperately wants to be about the Varian Disaster, every single beat in this movie would fit near-perfectly for the Varian Disaster, you could relocate this film temporally and geographically to Germania and not change literally anything except some of the names, and yet because Hollywood considers Britannia way sexier and more exotic than Germania it is set in Britain. this movie should be about the Varian Disaster! in every way but geographically including the drawback of the frontiers this movie is about the Varian Disaster! and yet. it is not about the Varian Disaster.

(the movie itself is fine. like, it's Agricola slander and Tacitus is rolling over in his grave, but my tolerance for historical inaccuracy is pretty high these days. don't go out of your way to watch it, but like, it's fine. if I had a nickel for every time Olga Kurylenko has played a Roman-hating British woman warrior I'd have two nickels, which is not a lot but it's weird it's happened twice etc.)

[superbellsubways]

once i showed someone i know ur blog bcus i think ur epic and thought theyd like ur mario art, and they came back to me an hour later super concerned bcus they were rlly confused as to why u post about flavio as much as you do. i think they think you have a disease now. flavio rabies

SORRY

[southern--downpour]

having upsetting thoughts about the “live” ending