#tar thoughts

[tar-frogs]

google how to stop being anxious

[youmisguidedmartyr]

What if you were born during a WAR and your dad became a STAR and your mum became a BIRD and your people were KILLED and then you and your twin were KIDNAPPED and then your kidnappers either DIED or fucked off to the BEACH and then your twin chose a MORTAL LIFE and then you became a HERALD and then your King got given a really cool RING but there was ANOTHER WAR because SAURON WAS ACTUALLY the RING GUY and then your King DIES and then your cousin/wife gets ATTACKED and then she SAILS and then your Foster son falls in LOVE with your DAUGHTER and then there's ANOTHER FUCKING WAR because SAURON IS BACK and then your daughter also chooses a MORTAL fucking LIFE and then you just FUCK OFF TOO but your twin sons didn't make up their MINDS

[olessan]

This is "Miriel alive!!" zoomies so just imagine the "ISILDUR ALIVE!!!" zoomies

[anghraine]

I'm feeling like supporting some women's wrongs! (And rights, but definitely also wrongs.)

[starry-bi-sky]

fast food is the best course of action after causing a scene. ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴʏᴀʟ ᴀʟ ɢʜᴜʟ ᴀᴜ

(First Post Here and Second Post Here

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Danny finds Sam easily.

She's right where she said she was over the phone: standing outside on a balcony, in Gotham, at Father's many charity functions. 

("Would you still be willing to fly over to Gotham, Danny?" She asks, her voice ringing clear through the speakers. Danny is already climbing out his window before she even finishes her sentence. He was just about to settle down for the night, his ghosts would know better by now than to disturb him at this time. The Box Ghost not included.)

("Of course." He says, sounding more confident than he feels. Sam was one of his best— closest friends, he would do anything she or Tucker asked. Even if it means stepping foot into his Father's city. He drops down silently, and walks through the house's ghost shield. "Would you like me to bring you anything?")

(Sam sighs through the phone, relief leaking through. "One of the veggie burgers from Nasty Burgers would be great, with their new ecto-fries. Extra salt. I'm sick of all this rich people food.")

(A small smile pulls across Danny's face, tilting at the corner as his living form falls away to his ghost self. "Alright," he says, and kicks himself off the ground, "I'll be there in a few minutes.")

("Thanks, Danny.")

He had the bag of food with him, stored in a container he had to run back to the house to get that would prevent the food from cooling during his flight over. Clutching it in hand, he floats down behind Sam and sheds his invisibility.

Being visible and being invisible always felt different, but in a way Danny can never describe, no matter how many times he tries to think about it. It's like a gut-feeling, a sixth sense, he always knows when he's visible and when he is not.

His ghost form burns away like steel wool being lit, and Danny drops the last foot to the ground silently. In his other hand lies his thermos, but filled with plain ectoplasm — lazarus water. "I have your food." 

(He brought the thermos for himself — his side was still healing from his last fight with Technus. The ghost impaled him with a broken pipe, and Danny returned the favor by wedging his sword into his chest. Technus had been quite offended by him ruining his favorite coat.)

Sam jumps a foot into the air, and her hand slams across her mouth to muffle the shriek she lets out as she whirls around. "Danny!" She hisses, her voice rising in pitch, and her eyes narrow at him into a glare. "Freaking-- Tucker's right, we seriously need to put a bell on you."

"You have been saying that for years," Danny grins, sharp-toothed and jack-knifed, and passes the container over to her. "And yet I've yet to see any kind of bell." He was going to start getting disappointed at this rate.

As Sam takes the container, Danny hops up onto the railing and looks around. He hadn't seen any of Father's other children lurking around the building before he revealed himself, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that their stealth skills were poor.

He wasn't that arrogant.

...Anymore.

"Oh you will." Sam threatens, unzipping the container and grabbing the takeout bag. "I'll get you a collar and everything, we can start calling you Catwoman." When she pulls out her fries, Danny snaps forward and steals one from the box, ignoring her indignant yell as he pops it into his mouth.

"I spent my own money on these fries, Sam." He sniffs, leaning away from her with a stifled huff of laughter as she swats at him. "So they are technically my fries. And also, Catwoman would be a poor thief if she wore a bell."

Sam grumbles at him, and takes a bite out of a handful of fries. "I'll venmo you money." She says past a mouthful of food, Danny would have been disgusted in the past, when he was still new. But he's gotten used to this... normality. So he makes no reaction to it. "How does three hundred bucks sound?"

Danny immediately frowns.

"Did you have a fight with your parents?" He asks, eyes glancing to the doors. Doors that are covered heavily by curtains and blurred heavily, decadent music passing through in muffled sounds. He shifts himself away from the light. "You only spend that much money when they've pissed you off."

Sam's chewing stops, and her annoyed expression falters into one Danny knows well -- hurt, furrowed brows, a small frown, disappointment -- and she turns her head away from him. She swallows. "Yeah." she says, quiet.

Oh.

Danny knows that tone too.

Guilt settles like a rock in his chest. He leans forward, "Was it about me again?" He wasn't blind to the disdain Sam's parents had for him, far from it. This wasn't the first time Sam had gotten into a fight with them over her friendship with him and Tucker. But especially him. He unsettled people, even after years of observing his age-mates and trying to mimic their behavior, and anyone who knew him in middle school knew it was an act.  

Sam's silence gives him all the confirmation he needs, and the guilt heavies itself with the weight of the sky. Danny's never much cared about others' opinions of him -- he is (was?) an Al Ghul, they never heed to mind what the weight of a simpleton's thoughts.

But.. he cares a little a lot when it hurts his friends like this. He presses his lips together into a thin line, and forces the words out through his teeth. It sounds robotic. Al Ghul's do not apologize. "I... am sorry." But this one does. It doesn’t come easy. 

Sam sighs through her nose, and turns to roll her eyes at him. "Don't apologize on their behalf when you won't even apologize for your own; their assholes." She says, and goes reaching for more fries.

It's a sign, a signal. A silent word for the conversation to move on, to change. A distraction. Danny grasps it with both hands, and makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. And like he has learned, puts a hand to his chest like a scandalized American southern lady. "I apologize! I apologize plenty."

She snorts. "Only when you think it matters." And pokes him in the ribs sharply with her fry. He withholds a wince and snatches it out of her hands. "You're about as unapologetic as they come, Danny J. Fenton. I've seen you look more sincere when you're trying to drive your sword between Vlad's ribs."

"Stabbing Masters is a very important task for me, Sam." Danny says in only partially faux-seriousness. Masters has yet to realize that Danny had no interest in becoming his son, but he had to (reluctantly) admire his persistence. "Of course I will apply myself to it as best as I can."

He grins triumphantly when Sam laughs, and she reaches over to shove him square in the chest. He barks out a laugh of his own as he grips onto the balcony railing and catches himself at an angle.

"Quit with your method actor talk," Sam retorts, grinning sharply while Danny twists himself back up elegantly. "I know you can talk like a normal person, I've literally seen you do it."

Danny sniffs, and snatches more fries from the carton as revenge. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Miss Sam." He says, grin-twisting when Sam rolls her eyes. "My speech has always been this way. This 'normal' you speak of, I do not know it."

She waves her hand dismissively at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But if you keep talking like that, I'm pushing you off the balcony."

"Such violence, Sam."

He gets a laugh again, full of disbelief without any of the annoyance. "I'm gonna be the one that stabs you, oh my god. Pot meet kettle." She looks at him again, smiling.

Danny smiles back, and with a flick of his wrist pulls out a kunai from his sleeve. It was one of the few weapons Mother was able to pass on to him whenever she made her scarce visits. He cherishes it well, along with anything else she was capable of giving him. 

He holds the handle out to her, and watches her face shift from disbelief to shock, then back to disbelief. "Then you're gonna need a weapon to do that." 

"Of course you have a pointy object on you." She mutters, and takes the kunai and puts it in her purse. Danny makes a pleased hum, it resonates low in his core, and drops his hand. "When do you not have a pointy object on you?"

As if to make her point, Danny's hands twist near his side, and he holds his palms up to her, revealing the shobo he had also hidden on him. He gives her a shit-eating grin. "Never." He lowers his hand, and pockets the small weapon once again. 

Sam huffs, "Of course," she repeats, "thanks. I was gonna bring a knife but..."

Danny finishes the sentence for her, kicking his feet idly and knowingly. "The security at the door?" He'd seen them on his flight over the building. It wouldn't do much in the face of the Rogues, but at least they were good at keeping appearances and keeping out the smaller threats.

He rolls his eyes and turns his head away, looking up to the ugly, smog-covered skies. There was no bat signal in the air, and while that was a good thing, Danny almost wished there was. He wanted to see it. "I saw, and I would’ve called Father foolish if he hadn’t hired help. He attracts trouble almost as badly as I do."

"Maybe it's hereditary," Sam jokes, laughing under her breath. With her fries finished, she started on her veggie burger. "At least your dad isn't a vigilante like you are."

Danny smiles wryly. It felt nice to be able to talk more freely about this. That he didn't have to hide the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne, now that Sam knew it from her own accord. Maybe he could have conversations like these more often. Even if it was limited to Bruce Wayne only.

(Even if it felt a little terrifying to know that his father was so close by, close enough that Danny could reach out and touch him. To speak to him. But how would he explain that? And with an audience?)

(He’s wanted to see him since he was a kid, and he still does. It clings onto him like a cough that doesn’t go away after the cold already has, and while it has faded over the years, it clings. His mother’s words still ring in his ears however; it’s not safe. It’s not safe.)

(And isn’t that why he faked his death in the first place? So that his little brother would be safe? Why he gave up the heirship, his home, his Mother, Damian, and his chance to meet his Father? Going to see Father, even now, would be throwing that all away. He has to stay away.)

(Why is Damian with Father if staying with Father was unsafe?) 

He just needed to tell Tucker. Danny wouldn’t keep him out of the loop, he was just as much as his friend as Sam was. His eyes draw towards the door, where the golden glow of lights was still pouring through, where music was playing loudly. "Yeah, fortunately." 

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, and Danny finally cracks open his thermos. The pipe Technus impaled him with was covered in a goo that Danny didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, his injury was taking its time healing. The ectoplasm was speeding it up. 

He isn’t sure what the difference between the ectoplasm that Drs. Fenton collected and Grandfather’s Lazarus pools is, but there’s a difference. He swirls the thermos slowly, watching as the ectoplasm inside twists into a small whirlpool sluggishly. 

When left alone, it thickens into a consistency similar to egg whites, or perhaps a thick smoothie, but reverts back into a water-like substance when moved and swirled. It was strange; unexplainable. He can understand, to an extent, why the Drs. Fenton are so obsessed with studying it and the dimension it comes from. 

Sam watches him idly as he brings the thermos to his lips and drinks from it. The effect is instantaneous, a sense of relief washing over Danny as if someone had put a soothing balm onto an injury. It buzzes down to his fingertips, and when he lowers the thermos, he licks his lips and watches the tips of his fingers burn green like frostbite. 

“Your hair turned white again.” Sam comments, her hand reaching out and touching the hair on the nape of his neck. While it’s not the first time Sam’s touched his hair, it still makes him tense up with her hand so close to his throat. Instinct. dan

He ignores the urge to bat her hand away, humming thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed it does that.” He says, pulling down his bangs to see if they’ve also turned white. No, still black. He lets go. “Let me guess; my eyes are green too?” He lifts the thermos again and peers into the chrome casing. 

Sam nods, “Yep, but it’s only the, uh.” She makes a circle around her eyes with her finger. “The iris part. Everything else is fine.” 

Danny can see that. The faint reflection on the chrome casts back an intense green. He takes another sip. It chills the back of his teeth, and he can feel his canines warp and sharpen. He runs his tongue over them, and swallows. 

Sam is still watching him, her fingers drumming against the balcony railing. “What’s it taste like?” 

“Carbonated.” He says dryly, before taking a large swig. He couldn’t name a specific flavor if he tried, it changed every time he took a sip. The only thing that stayed consistent was that it tasted carbonated. And slightly sweet. When he pulls the thermos away, Danny twists his body towards her and offers it out, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Want to try?” 

Her reaction is immediate. Sam’s nose scrunches up and her mouth twists into a smile, and she makes a huffing-laugh sound. “No, thank you.” She pushes it away lightly with her fingers, “I don’t know how to explain to my parents why my hair is white.” 

Right. Danny pulls the thermos away and puts it down beside him, straining his eyes to see if the rest of his hair has changed colors. Even just his first sip would take half an hour to fade back to its normal black, and he was a halfa. He had no idea how long it’d take to fade on Sam, who was human. 

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and Danny snaps his head towards the source. There’s a figure, small, a boy, trying to hide behind one of the curtains at the door. His form just barely peeking out from the angle Danny was sitting at. He wouldn’t have seen him if the boy hadn’t moved. 

His fingers curl tightly into the railing, and he breathes in sharp. Sam’s smile crumbles away and she turns to see what he’s looking at. “I should go.” He says, and reaches for his thermos. “There’s someone spying on us. Don’t say anything, just look at me.” 

Sam’s expression warps, twists. Her eyes widen, her jaw starts to drop before fixing itself into place, and her shoulders curl up and tense. She forces it all to smooth over, and she leans casually against the railing. There’s a tick in her jaw. “I see.” Her voice comes through teeth. “Do you think they saw you?”

“I am not sure.” Danny says. He keeps an eye on the figure as he twists himself over and grabs the Nasty Burger bag and the container. He tries not to look like he’s rushing. He is. How long has that boy been there? How much did he see? Did he hear anything? 

“Father, fortunately, has privacy films on the glass. Nobody should have seen me unless they’re specifically trying to peep through the door.” He says. The boy seems to realize that Danny was starting to leave. And, his heart beginning to sink, instead of leaving, moves to grab the door handle instead.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Danny’s breath catches in his throat, he’s hoping that isn’t who he think it is. But how else would he have not noticed an eavesdropper on their conversation unless it was someone who was capable of bypassing those skills? He told himself that he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that his siblings’ had poor stealth. He got distracted. 

Five years, five years. He refuses to let that go down the drain. He zips up the container and throws his legs over the other side of the railing, his back facing the door. He hears the doorknob click, and without a word to Sam, slips off down the side and down to the ground below.

Just in time. The once muffled music now sounds blaring as the door presumably is thrown open and the pull of invisibility washes over him like a second skin. He doesn't stay to see who it is.

[l-l-s]

Elwing looking all majestic with her bird-motif pose + little Elrond and Elros!!

reference pic

[self-destructinganimal]

On The Choice of Elros and Elrond

Do you ever think that if Elros and Elrond had not broken apart by their choices, it's likely Middle Earth would have? Men had to rise as the Eldar faded, and it was from Elros that many of the great heroes came from, Elendil to Isildur to Aragorn. All who played a huge part in the destruction of Sauron.

BUT - without Elrond choosing the Eldar, who would have preserved their legacies, the knowledge needed to defeat Sauron, the virtue they needed to overcome the darkness? Who else would have watched over and guided that line? I just think about Elrond raising Aragorn, naming him hope because he never lost faith in his brother's choice. But without his choice to remain, would there have even been a Fellowship? Frodo would have succumbed to his wound and Aragorn perhaps never rose to his legacy. Without his council would they have had the direction and guidance to go forth? It cost both of the brothers so much, but that choice that must have been so bitter to both of them, played perhaps the most unsung yet deeply important part in the destruction of the shadow.

[aquitainequeen]

Isildur: Hi everyone, I've returned at last! Berek searched through the wasteland to find me, he's the best, and we went on a epic journey, and I fought giant spiders, and I had to eat part of a giant worm - that's not a euphemism - and there were walking talking trees, and I fell in love and got my heart broken practically the same day, but I also got to help an estranged father and son heal their relationship, and in conclusion it's all just been a lot. I'm really sorry it took me so long to get back; you all must have thought I was dead or something!

Isildur: Hey, where are dad and Valandil?

Isildur: ...did something happen while I was gone?

Ar-Pharazôn: ......

Eärien: ......

Kemen: ......

Míriel: ...well? He's waiting.

[waterberry-strawmelon]

Henry Oak saying “I’m a polyamorous white guy, of course I know Dungeons and Dragons” proves yet again that Will Campos is the funniest person on this fucking podcast

[stitcherofchaos]

Kidnap Fam vs Earendil and Elwing controversy: Regarding the twins

Maybe I’m too practical-minded, but I see a lot of people either supporting or exaggerating kidnap fam, hating it with all their being, or ignoring the whole ‘love grew between them’ to translate into ‘emotional manipulation, hatred, resentment… etc (being anti-canon)’. I’ll respect opinions, frankly, I really could care less about them, but it does get irritating when people throw canon away for the drama (I certainly get annoyed when extreme pro-kidnap fams fans make it all sunshine and rainbows as if it wasn’t a difficult time or situation).

By the way, I can and will say that the twins can feel emotions, they are allowed to do that. Resentment and love can exist at the same time (for only a period of time) but one or the other must fade in order for the other the linger. One has to be consumed in order for the other to burn.

But just a thought, Elrond and Elros could love all of their parents equally, no more, no less than the others. One became a healer and the other, a king, I think they came to understand their foster father(s) and their bio-parents’ decisions.

(Ay maybe I just suck at emotions and all this feelings stuff and have no idea what I’m tolkien about)

And I’m not trying to call out or bash anyone!

I saw (and wanted to share) the quote,

“if your anger burns the furnace in your soul your whole life, you will be forever cold in the grave.”(I’m paraphrasing, I can’t remember the exact quote)

I cannot imagine Elrond or Elros being resentful to the point were they are vicious or unforgiving, whether it was towards Elwing, Eärendil, Maglor, or Maedhros (I really don’t think he was involved too much but if you swing that way).

I don’t want Elros to be cold in his grave, and I certainly don’t want Elrond's fëa to be burning for the rest of his immortal life.

Then I also had the thought, 'if the Fëanorians had never committed the third, worst, kinslaying, then Elwing would have never flown the Silmaril to her husband and they would have never gotten the help of the Valar.'

I personally headcanon that it was Eru’s work at hand to have Maglor raise Elrond and Elros. Think about it, what if they were spoiled in an alternate universe? What if something worse had happened to the twins? What if? What if?

What if they didn't become who they were meant to be if it wasn't for who they were raised by?

By the way, I read LOTR, I know Elrond refers to Eärendil publicly as his father and he makes no mention of Maglor. I analyzed this in three ways. 1.) Elrond must keep (the memory of) Maglor closed off, locked in his heart rather than talking about him more. 2.) It would've caused drama in his realm and in the counsel. 3.) Elrond really doesn't care, his father is his father, that's it. Zip. Maglor raised him, but Maglor is gone now. In a way, Eärendil is more present than Maglor in Elrond's life by the third age. Elrond can physically see the star, but he can't see Maglor.

I see it in the third way mostly. Eärendil is Elrond father, biologically, so why would he do this "My 'real' father" BS? It just seems like a waste of time. Tolkien probably didn't want to confuse anyone since the Silmarillion couldn't be published with LOTR.

Remind me of that quote from Yondu, "He may have been your father, boy, but he wasn't your daddy." But I really didn't want to refer to that quote considering Peter and Yondu's relationship is not the best example to compare this cluster of daddy issues to. Nevertheless, there is a point to be made in that statement. There is a difference between relation in regard to Nature vs Nurture, and the effects of it.

I guess the whole point of this post is, the fandom tends to take canon lore to the extreme or over analyze things to the point where they're just projecting. Trust me, I've been there, done that. I've learned my lesson (I think) and I wanted to share what I've learned.

Also (this is purely opinion) I don’t think Maglor was manipulative about anything, in the book, he just didn’t come off that way, for as little as he appeared, he actually seemed to be pretty optimistic (*regarding Eärendil) and honest (*the debate with Maedhros). He didn’t try to excuse himself or get the twins to pity him. Maglor raising the twins was out of pity/mercy, yes, but love grew (like what Tolkien said). He probably educated them on the facts and encouraged them to form their own opinions, whether that costed him their love or not. Maglor did have the more accurate moral compass compared to his brothers (in the end of the book!- Put down your pitchforks Maedhros stans!), especially if he knew that the Silmaril was better beyond their reach than where the enemy can also reach it. It was an accurate moral compass, although not a big one.

Argue, agree or disagree, or discuss with me! I want to hear different perspectives or opinions on this matter.

[yaralulu]

Honestly the main reason I keep pushing the tamcien agenda is because I just believe lucien deserves to be with a big sexy guy 🤷🤷.

[tar-frogs]

i will be calm at this social event.

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Elros grows a beard and scars much more easily after choosing mortality. Probably gains a broader, more obviously muscular frame too. Elrond doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry as their differences become pronounced over a mere handful of years, no longer identical long before age takes his twin.

He doesn’t know that Elros grows the beard on purpose to ease the transition of being alone for Elrond, the scarring adding to that is just a bonus. In any case, it works. And Elros is glad.

[olessan]

a lingering glare in passing (ง'̀-'́)ง (ง'̀-'́)ง

[silverbridge-harbor]

Falling into the tar pits at Claire's

Being stuck with no hope of escape at Claire's

Getting fossilized with the bestie at Claire's

[puppetmaster13u]

When you discover your friend is practically a giant wooden puppet after a battle

This is @phoenixcatch7 's Possessed Doll Au and I highly recommend yall check it out