#i'm sorry professor tolkien

[redbootsindoriath]

Apparently in my absence this post had its 1000-notes-iversary.

This time we get to see the culprit responsible for ruining our heroes' lives as well.

I've really missed you guys, by the way. I know I've said that already, but I'm serious. Once or twice this year I've been right on the brink of coming back but schedule stuff always keeps me from letting myself commit to that again, and that in turn has kept me from posting anything at all. But I've been in an unexpected drawing mood lately and so if I can get enough stuff to set up a queue we might pretend I'm back for a month or so sometime this year. Maybe. Hopefully. We'll see. No promises though. That's why I'm hiding this paragraph under the cut.

Transcription:

[Beren:] "Uhhh...barkeep...I think he's had enough now..." [Tolkien:] "No, I don't think he has...!"

[cilil]

With mind-pictures being a thing in the legendarium, Ainur have an advanced method of sending dick pics, send tweet

[that-angry-noldo]

alright i had the wildest dream so buckle up.

So there's this elf, right. I have no idea what's his name. It may or may not have been Gwindor. Anyhow, Morgoth's very excited he managed to capture him, right? He carries him around the fortress babbling gleefully in his deep metallic voice while Gwindor is struggling for his life not to get crushed by Morgoth's fingers (he's carrying him in a fist). They pass this thing that resembles both cage and refrigerator. It's made out of black iron and is giant. "Neat design", I note as I see dead elves hanging on the bars like some bugs. (I have to steal it for myself because Morgoth absolitely would™). We can catch a glimpse of some elf inside. Poor thing. Anyways, moving on. Morgoth continues rambling excitedly, presumably about how and when will he torture Gwindor. Gwindor tries his best not to faint (me too, mate), when Morgoth suddenly decides he's hungry. He sets Gwindor on a giant table and goes to the cage. It takes him a few minutes, during which my mind goes from "yipeeee cannibalism time heheee" to "oh no WAIT no um no that's rated 18+ and we're 17 DO YOU REALLY WANT US TO WRITE A CANIBALLISM SCENE IMAGINE TAGGING ALL OF THAT naaah mate" so unfortunately for Morgoth, from this point on the dream turns from dark and grim torture porn into a lesson about... power of friendship?? Anyways Morgoth, for whom my mind had to create a believable reason not to eat elven flesh in 2 seconds, begrudgingly turns around and grabs Gwindor again, because now that he doesn't want flesh he needs to go to kitchens and he doesn't want Gwindor hiding under a couch (the furniture in the house is GIANT by the way) so he puts him inside a cage. May I remind you that it's decorated with dead elves and absolutely stinks. Gwindor lays shellshocked, as do I, when a voice from the above floor of the cage says "yo mate, do you want to escape?" so Gwindor goes "UM YES OF COURSE I WANT TO ESCAPE??? THIS IS LITERALLY A NIGHTMARE" and the voice from above says "cool follow me"

cue to epic escape montage during which my mind lets me know that the other two elves on the cage are daeron and EONWE?? EONWE DEAREST THE HECK YOU FORGOT AT MORGOTH'S??? anyways they escape in what is basically epic anime montage (eonwe is the anime protagonist. i am as confused as gwindor and daeron) and head to nargothrond. ON THEIR WAY they meet Finrod and Co and fight them because come on morgoth a king of nargothrond on a suicide quest?? you gotta do better than that. (I AM FINROD APOLOGIST. I'M GRITTING MY TEETH BECAUSE THIS IS FINROD AND CO SLANDER. IN MY DREAM. WHICH MY MIND CREATED.) they end their fight convinced that it is finrod and eonwe says "cool mate i'm gonna join you y'all sound awesome". all the time finrod is going ???? in his mind. same, finrod, same.

i wake up leaving Gwindor and Daeron very confused, Eonwe on Lay of Leithian quest beating Sauron's ass, and Finrod faintly whispering "this wasn't in the script" and "none of these words are in the bible". now, can someone please explain me WHAT THE HECK this was and how do i sign up for more.

sincerely, your angry noldo.

[sotwk]

Consider that was where Celebrian - her daughter - was held and possibly tortured... I think we can excuse a little excess rage power on Galadriel's behalf. Like the whole adrenaline-lifting-a-car-off-a-person kind of response rather than just being generally over powered.

Hi Anon!

Well, Celebrían was held and tortured in the Misty Mountains rather than Dol Guldur, but I can see your point about the Superpowered Mama Bear. :) After all, I'm a mom myself and I would unleash unspeakable horrors on whoever might hurt my children.

Your comments were in response to my vent about why it took Galadriel so long to act and help Mirkwood/Thranduil take down Dol Guldur. She stepped in only in the end to "cleanse" it after Sauron had been vanquished.

Honestly, Galadriel's seeming lack of action throughout the history of Middle-earth is baffling to me, and I consider it one of the flaws in Tolkien's works (sorry, Professor!). We're told she's extremely powerful and one of the greatest of the Noldor Exiles. But we have no clue what she actually did during the Wars of Beleriand, or the Second Age, other than traveling a lot and giving advice to Celebrimbor, and taking Nenya (Rings of Power tried to wager guesses, but most fans hated the show's take). She probably saw the most action during the Third Age, but even so, even the little that is mentioned of Thranduil sees him going to war for his people and effectively Middle-earth. Galadriel seems to have mostly stayed in Lothlorien to give advice and defend her own territory.

So yeah, I guess what I'm saying is that is was rather a waste of a character to have her act on Dol Guldur just at the last minute, and we're not given a sufficient explanation why it took so long.

[brb-on-a-quest]

So the other day I made a post about writing fanfiction about Dante's Inferno, and I've come to you all with about 3 weeks left in the deadline to ask whether it's good enough plot-wise to submit (because I'm a coward and I don't trust my own judgment and to share my writing with people who know me IRL is kind of a nightmare). So I ask, if people have time, for gentle critiques or whether I should toss it into the eternal fire (I'll save the jokes). One massive thing about it is that it's 800 words over length, so I may have to double-submit it (because that's an option for us, it just counts as double the points and I don't trust my writing that much), or talk to my professor and see if he can help me decide what to cut.

It's about 2.2k in length, and trigger warnings that it takes place in hell, so there are mentions of violence and abuse, but it is very light.

A Modern Pilgrim’s Guide to Hell

By brb-on-a-quest

He had found me while I was walking in the woods; I had strayed far from the safe arms of campus and ran into sight of three mafiosi: one who barked like a wolf and told me to “go to hell,” one who barked like a leopard, and the final one shook his lion-like mane as he told me to “turn around and don’t come back here for the sake of your soul.” 

I, not wishing to be murdered on a fine day, turned around and walked in the other direction. The woods grew more vast and dark. My shoes crunched on twigs and leaves and I realized I, somehow, had turned off very far from the way I had come, and I was unsure how to get home. 

All too conveniently, he had appeared. “You look lost; can I help?” Before me stood a man in a gray suit, the hair all but gone from the top of his glossy head. The moon illuminated his presence, making him seem somewhat transparent and ethereal. He was smiling at me in a sort of familiar, grandfatherly way that made me want to trust him, despite alarm bells ringing. 

“No.” I was not going to walk with a strange man, even if I was lost. I wasn’t about to get murdered-

My stomach grumbled, I realized I hadn’t eaten that day and must have been near dinner now. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was hungry. “If you could point me back in the direction of campus, that would be great.” 

“Alright, prepare for a journey through hell.” He laughed. “I’ll get you home eventually.”

I blinked, chuckling awkwardly. Please let that be an exaggeration. 

“I’m sorry, I believe I didn’t get your name.” The woods were getting darker as we moved away from the mafiosi. There was a building, several yards ahead, that the stranger seemed to veer towards. Raindrops came through the thick canopy and hit my face, shoulders, and hair, at first intermittently before progressing all at once. 

“Ah, yes, pardon, where are my manners? It’s Clive. C.S. Lewis.” He turned around. “I was sent here by a friend of yours. John Tolkien?” “John Tolkien?” I blinked. “As in J.R.R. Tolkien?” “Well, he goes by Jolkein Rolkien Rolkien Tolkien nowadays after seeing that go ‘round the Internet, but yes, the very one.” 

“He considers us friends?” 

“You visited his grave once when you traveled to our homeland last year and prayed for his soul; one doesn’t forget that kindness; therefore, he’s decided to help you with that writing inspiration you were asking about the other day. Regrettably, he can’t meet you until much later, but he does send his regards.” 

“And you’re C.S.-right? Oh my god.” My jaw dropped as I finally put the two pieces together. “You’re the Clive Staples Lewis. You wrote my entire childhood. I loved the Chronicles of Narnia-” The words tumbled out of my face rapidly, like a cascade of water over rocks. “My Dad would read your stories to me every night. And now you’re here. This is a dream. I must be dreaming.” 

C.S. gave a little bow, with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. “Oh, I know. Happy to be of service. Please call me C.S.-- it sounds a bit nicer than Clive Staples, don’t you think?”

I nodded, my body felt too airy to fully speak all of the words I was thinking. After a moment’s pause, C.S. gestured to the building ahead of us, “Now, shall we continue? I’d rather get out of this rain before going forward.” 

I heard the screams first before we had toed the lines over the threshold. Loud, guttural screams rang in my? ears and made my heart stop beating for a moment. “What is that?” My voice was warbling. I hadn’t heard that much raw emotion in a single cry for months. 

“The damned, the poor devils.” C.S. shook his head. 

It was then I took notice of the building in front of us. It could barely be qualified as a shed. There were profanities graffitied all over the side of the building, looking as if it was dripping and blurring in the rain that beat against it. Shingle pieces fell off the roof, rust corroded away most of the metal pipes. We approached the door that looked slightly off-center in the proportions of the building and had words etched into its wooden panels. Or it did at one point, they had been clawed through multiple times so that it took more effort to try and follow what it had once read: 

Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here. 

“This looks like a haunted house. Or a mob front.” I chuckled awkwardly, partially to my guide and partially to myself, as a way to cope with the awkward feelings in my throat. The wet grass did not mix well with the strong odors of paint that always gave me a migraine. Perhaps I have been duped. And I let myself be duped. But then how would he know about the Tolkien Trip-? My thoughts were cut off by the doorknob shrieking, the noise grating against my poor ears. 

He entered, and my feet followed, though my spirit was unwilling. The shed was surprisingly spartan on the inside. Chairs lined the wall and went down the middle. Heat blasted against my face, burned my skin, and my clothes instantly felt dry. 

My guide went up to speak with the front desk, and bade me to follow him. “Stay close, no good getting separated here.” 

I scowled, my rage rising to the roof of my mouth with its iron taste. I just wanted to write my paper and maybe scroll through social media for a while; I didn’t want to go on an entire spiritual journey. I don’t have time to go on a spiritual journey. I have to write my final paper and check my messages. 

I didn’t hear what C.S. told the front desk, where a half-bull, half-man creature sat flicking a whip at one of the souls in front of him, marking him with a certain number of lashes. One. Two. Three.  My skin jumped with every crack. I turned my face to bury it in my guide’s shoulder. C.S. grabbed my hand and squeezed as Minos grumbled something about ‘upper management interference’ and flicked his whip in the direction of the wall. It opened to reveal another room. “That would be the second circle of hell. Come with me, please.” C.S. started pulling me closer to the door. 

The heat grew more intense, and I squinted to avoid it blowing into my eyes too much. The smell of smoke and burning brown muck overpowered my nostrils. Something squished audibly underneath my shoes, and I recoiled at the sound. Ahead of me, I saw many creatures furiously smashing away on keyboards attached to these boxy computer monitors from the 90s. Most of them were round and bulbous. Their chins bled into their necks, and the fat dangled from their arm-like appendages and stomachs. Horns emerged from the top of their head and curled around to pierce them at the temple. 

“What are they?” I shuddered, all the input overloading my senses until I wanted to scream. 

“It would be better to ask what they once were,” C.S. said as he took my hand and patted it comfortingly. 

Instinctively I knew that they, like me, had been human once. “This isn’t what I thought hell would be like.” I mean, it was and it wasn’t. Sure, it was uncomfortable, but when I read Dante’s version, I had imagined much worse.

“Times change. God’s divine justice doesn’t change, but sinners do; the way they need to be punished will vary differently.” C.S. said very matter-of-factly. 

Suddenly, a ding rang throughout the room and the goblin-esque figures began to cry out with one voice, a shriek of eternal wrath and pain cuts appeared across their skin. I jumped and hid behind my guide. “What’s going on?” 

“Ah, a new message.” C.S. patted my head thoughtfully. “Don’t worry, they’re too absorbed in their own worlds to hurt you.” 

“What’s going on?” I repeated. 

“These souls have committed sins using technology for evil intentions. Cyberbullying, harassing, wrath, lust, and envy.” 

“And their punishment is to continue what they did in life?” I edged out from behind C.S.’, taking another hard look. 

“They prioritized screen time over God, so God allowed them to reap the consequences of that choice. Come, I promise, they’re too caught up in their screens to notice anyone around them, and we have more things to see before we’re done.” C.S. grabbed my hand, and I followed him, cringing at the squishing noises underneath my feet made by this ooze. Looking over their shoulders, I saw sausage-like fingers furiously typing at janky keyboards, long paragraphs filled with profanities, uncharitable arguments, and negative emojis. Whoever they were messaging seemed only to goad them on further into their hell, as none of the souls even turned to give me a momentary glance. 

“There’s no rest for the internet troll, thus they do not deserve any in the afterlife.” 

At least I’m not like them. I felt a mix of pity mixed with disgust at the damned souls that were grumbling and typing away at either side of me. There was one up ahead who had a very coppery orange tan that made his hair look even more bleached. Is that… Donald Trump? I didn’t know he had died. I had the temptation to poke him on the shoulder, to grab his attention, to ask their name, and to strike up a conversation. The oozing pus dripping down their back and their broken, hunched posture made my mouth feel dry. I started reaching out anyway before C.S. Lewis smacked my hand. “It’s not recommended. There will be others who will be more gracious in terms of talking to you.” 

I followed him, feeling meek as a rebuked child. We entered a new room that was completely barren, minus the souls existing there. Some of them were tearing at their hair and shrieking like banshees. Others were lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, half immersed in this squished mixture.

“What is happening here?” 

“Those who were addicted to their phone and neglected their growth as a person now have to live without it.” I took in a deep breath and exhaled, thinking of how my screen time on my phone had steadily increased over the past decade. A deep sense of guilt and shame struck into my very core, my former prideful thoughts coming to mock me. I am exactly like them. 

“What are you doing here?” A voice came from below me. “You’re not like them.” 

“I’m-” It seemed imprudent to give my actual name as I looked down at a damned soul lying face upward in the gloppy muck. “-a pilgrim.” I finished. “This is my guide.” 

The soul scowled. “They’re just letting anyone in here now, aren’t they, walk around as if they own the place. This is not very swag of them.”

“I have my orders from heaven, if that does not satisfy you, take it up with management, not with us,” C.S. ordered in a very firm tone. “What’s your name?” 

“I am James Charles. I am here because I spent every moment of my conscious life behind a screen, whether it was a TV, a smartphone, or a computer. I was a content creator for YouTube and TikTok.”

“It seems absurd.” I cried out. “To punish someone for being dependent on technology as we are. Our work uses screens, our recreational time uses screens, it doesn’t make sense to punish people for using tools.” 

“Not their usage, but their abuse.” C.S. corrected me. “Charles, how much screen time did you get again.” 

“My screen time was over 22 hours a day. I took little sleep or food except what was needed to keep me going back”

“That doesn’t sound like a sin-” I cut in, still stubborn, my personal shame rising ever higher while feeling my gut sink lower. 

“I used the internet to get to other people.” James continued. “I manipulated others into believing that I was correct and a god while behind the camera while using the internet to… hurt others. Particularly the children.” His face beamed with unrepentance. “They were so deliciously young-” Disgust choked me and I turned back to hide and swallow the rising bile in my throat. I had seen the news articles, about how the internet had turned on this man when the scandals had erupted. His consequential suicide had been in the news for about a week, with more and more details of victims' stories emerging to only add to the horror. 

I’m not like him. I’m better than- I stopped myself in my tracks. No. He’s a human who made bad choices with technology. I am also making bad choices with tech-

I clutched C.S.’s arm. “Please. I’ve learned my lesson - take me home, I’ll do better, I swear.” 

“You have not seen all that is to come,” was the not-comforting reply. “But come with me, and we shall embark on this journey together. And have hope, there are still good things left to see.” 

The end. For now. (Maybe might update with further circles cuz I have other ideas but that's all I "need" for the assignment.

[thecoolblackwaves]

Another Fic for @candcweek !!! This one is independent to the "Kiss and Marry" multi chapter one I've got going -- in fact, it's part of a different universe. A modern AU I'm calling Family Of Nerds (I made a post a post it). Join C+C as they have a little picnic date at sunset.

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Pairing: Tyelkormo/Curufin (implied)

Tags/Warnings: Modern AU, Family Of Nerds AU, Motorcycles, Stargazing, Implied Incest, Ambiguous Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Word Count: 1k

Summary: “At about eight years old, Tyelkormo had become obsessed with outerspace and astronomy, spending many hours in their backyard with a small telescope. Little Curvo often joined him - sometimes even sneaking out past his bedtime - to observe the twinkling lights and listen to the history his brother read about in his library books. Stargazing had become a private tradition for the two of them.”

AO3 A/N: This is set in my “Family of Nerds'' universe. My Tumblr blog @thecoolblackwaves has a post explaining it - basically, it’s a modern AU where Feanor, a philologist, and Nerdanel, an arts professor, have raised their kids to be their fully authentic, artistic, nerdy selves. Tyelko is a bow and arrow wielding forest ranger and gym bro, Curvo is a ballet dancer who failed to go professional and now creates jewelry and accessories for dance companies instead. I’m hoping to continually add to this universe! Not all installments are slash/incest, neither are they linear, but with this one it’s implied. Also I know absolutely nothing about motorcycles or astronomy so sorry for any inaccuracies.

……….

Tyelkormo’s favorite brother needed cheering up, and by god was he going to do it!

He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened between Curvo and Angrod, but whatever it was, they had both stormed out of their grandfather’s house visibly upset. While he generally got on with that particular half-cousin, Curufin always came first for him. Always. So he tailed him home and watched closely as his little brother sulked around the kitchen - not eating anything, though he eyed some chips - and then took a rather violent sounding shower.

Curufin tended to deny himself food when his emotions were in turmoil. A leftover habit from ballet classes, he suspected. Even though he wanted nothing more than to eat away his feelings, and was no longer required to maintain a ruthlessly flawless physique, he would instead choose to punish himself. Tyelkormo wasn’t having it.

He snuck around the house to gather his supplies, careful not to alert his brother to the opening and closing of doors. He then went into Curufin’s bedroom and laid out warm, comfortable clothes, along with his own leather motorcycle jacket and spare boots.

“What are you doing?”

Curufin’s voice, though flat, held no malice as he moped in with a towel around his waist. Tyelkormo considered this a private victory. Even when he felt like shit, Curvo awarded him and him alone his patience and the softer, more vulnerable sides of his personality.

“I thought I could take you on a ride for a while. It’s a beautiful night, and I want to spend time with you.”

“Are you gonna ask me what happened once I’m trapped next to you going eighty miles an hour?”

“No, I won’t ask unless you want me to. And only seventy-five, don’t wanna deal with state troopers.”

Curufin snorted, then he nodded. He shut the door and dropped his towel, casual nudity not bothering him, and got dressed.

They wheeled the bike out of the garage, Tyelkormo giving it a kickstart. Curufin secured his helmet and sat behind him, holding on tight as they peeled out of the driveway. Sharp winds whipped around their bodies and twilight glittered across the horizon.

Tyelkormo pulled into a fast food drive-thru despite his brother’s feeble protests. He also paid for their meals, despite louder protests, and drove them down scenic country roads to a secluded field.

He unpacked a picnic blanket from one of his saddle bags and heard Curvo snort in surprise. Grinning to himself, he also pulled out the candle he had nicked from the dining room table and lit it with a flourish, setting it safely within a wide metal dish and laying it in the center of their blanket.

Curufin was giggling uncontrollably now, pink in the face, looking light and happy. He gracefully fell into a seated position and divied out their cheeseburgers and french fries.

“Sorry this isn’t chocolate covered strawberries and wine, or anything, but I was starving,” Tyelkormo said, laughing as well.

“It’s fine, I prefer this anyway. When did you come up with the idea for a picnic?” Curvo asked curiously as he drowned his fries in honey mustard sauce. Tyelko wrinkled his nose.

“While you were showering. I wanted to take you out to dinner, but I also wanted to be alone with you, and it’s so nice outside today. Seemed like a good compromise.”

“It is,” Curufin reassured. “This is nice. Peaceful.”

They fell silent for some time, admiring the last streaks of sunset while they finished their food. Around them, insects chirped and buzzed, and a few fireflies emerged from the grasses.

Curufin laid back with a sigh, arms crossed behind his head. Tyelkormo quickly joined him after blowing out the candle, cuddling close to his side.

“Will you tell me about the constellations?” his younger brother asked.

It was a question he’d heard many times over the years. At about eight years old, Tyelkormo had become obsessed with outerspace and astronomy, spending many hours in their backyard with a small telescope. Little Curvo often joined him - sometimes even sneaking out past his bedtime - to observe the twinkling lights and listen to the history his brother read about in his library books. Stargazing had become a private tradition, the vast night skies had witnessed the making of many intimate memories between them.

“Well, there’s Orion-Orome, the Hunter. He rides a white horse, Pegasus-Nahar - the one right there, to the left - and leads the hunt for evil creatures. Sometimes he’s accompanied by a pack of dogs led by Canis-Huan Major, the one stretching out its leg.”

“That’s who you named Huan after, right?” Curufin asked, curling into his side. Tyelkormo put his arm around his shoulders and played with the ends of his hair with his free hand.

“Yeah, that’s right! The best boy in the whole world. You know, he once helped the big constellation, Andromeda-Luthien, to defeat Cepheus-Morgoth. She was said to be incredibly beautiful, and sang a song that enchanted him so she could steal the jewels from his crown, and rode away on the dog’s back with her husband Perseus-Beren. It’s that one to the right straight ahead.”

“Sounds unfair to me,” Curufin muttered, “Stealing someone’s symbol of power. Where did she go?”

“No one knows, they disappeared into the night, never to be seen again. Some say that when great heroes die, they turn into stars themselves. For example, Cygnus-Elwing. She sacrified herself to save her people and turned into a bird flying the skies, then became a star with her husband, Auriga-Earendel. There’s a myth that once a year, they board his ship and sail across the skies as a bright shooting star.”

Curufin hummed, cuddling closer. He kissed his brother’s cheek.

“I don’t know how people come up with this stuff. I just like the way the light shines from them, it’s beautiful.”

“It is,” his brother agreed. “Like you.”

“Oh, sap. Knock it off.”

“Never. Oh look, Curvo, there’s a shooting star now!”

Closing his eyes and smiling, Curufin rested his hand over Tyelkormo’s heart.

“I’ve got everything I need.”

“Oh, my god. You call ME sappy?”

The End :)

[mercurygray]

From one fic writer to another: How do you keep writing? I'm particularly writing romantic fics between MOTA's characters and my own OCs, but I can't continue anymore because what I write is too optimistic for real life, and the stories contain deep emotions that will never come true. Yet, there's still a passion inside me to write, but the voice saying, "What's the point of writing all this if they are not real, they can not be real?" keeps getting louder.

Anon, I'm sorry this got stuck in my box over the weekend - I wanted to make sure you got a real answer and life got in the way.

Your ask reminds me of a quote by JRR Tolkien that made its way onto my dash this weekend - this quote is from his essay "On Fairy Stories" and I think applies equally to the heart of your question as it does to what's currently happening on Masters of the Air.

Here's the Professor (emphasis my own):

I have claimed that Escape is one of the main functions of fairy-stories, and since I do not disapprove of them, it is plain that I do not accept the tone of scorn or pity with which “Escape” is now so often used: a tone for which the uses of the word outside literary criticism give no warrant at all. In what the misusers are fond of calling Real Life, Escape is evidently as a rule very practical, and may even be heroic. In real life it is difficult to blame it, unless it fails; in criticism it would seem to be the worse the better it succeeds. Evidently we are faced by a misuse of words, and also by a confusion of thought. Why should a man be scorned if, finding himself in prison, he tries to get out and go home? Or if, when he cannot do so, he thinks and talks about other topics than jailers and prison-walls? The world outside has not become less real because the prisoner cannot see it. In using escape in this way the critics have chosen the wrong word, and, what is more, they are confusing, not always by sincere error, the Escape of the Prisoner with the Flight of the Deserter.

Real Life is hard. It's endless, and it's numbing, and it makes us often feel powerless. There are lots of ways we can take action on this, and engaging in something creative is one of them, because creating gives us power. I know that sometimes the only reason I write is for the simple pure joy of saying "I put these words on this page in this order and they make sense to me" and in that moment I can feel like I'm in control of something, even if it's just those words or my own scattered brain. Maybe that doesn't do anything in the grand scheme of things, but it helps me get to tomorrow.

I hope it helps you get to tomorrow, too.

[boxwinebaddie]

hi nina!!!! hope you're doing well :) i was just scrolling through the rm side char board and i noticed some glasses in the recents for the clyde section, so does he wear glasses? :3

*cue uncle nina doing the bad austrailian accent again*

good eye, mate!!!

but speaking of eyes ( moreso bad than good, however ) and glasses and such as it pertains to dear clyde, allow me to amend ur question:

does clyde NEED to wear glasses?

yes.

does clyde WEAR his glasses?

aaaabsolutley not.

which!!! okay! to be FAIR, he's not blind as shit like kyle, he can see just fine without them, he just needs them to read...but clyde is big man on campus, 2 cool 4 school, mr. super fantastic, like he's got a reputation to uphold!!! ( and by that i mean his rage cage record ) so the only glasses he's going to be caught dead w/ are Shot & Pint.

and like you'd think he'd be willing to put his clyde pride away for like 90 minutes a day to be able to read anything in his law class but nooooope!!! like what? let those LOSERS see him? wearing their nerd gear??? Hell No Brother! so across all his classes he's effectively useless and people assume its because he's a dumbass ( which! excuse me he is smart, he's just lazy and doesn't apply himself! ) but it's actually bc he can't fuckin read anything lmao...

( should he just get contacts? maybe? but like thats waaaaay too much work. he'd fall asleep with those in and the lens would have to be like surgically removed from his eyelids...no contacts 4 clyde )

the funniest part about all of this to me and specifically clyde acing that literally impossible professor mackey midterm that got him grouped w/ jersey, heidi and tolkien or scoring higher than kyle is that because he couldn't really read that test, he quite literally did just draw a picture with the scantron dots...it was a parasaurolophus btw.

which is clydes favorite dinosaur!!! <3

okay...i'm so sorry: small clyde sidebar bc i love clyde.

i gave rm!clyde ~A Touch Of The 'Tism~ which, is undiagnosed but like what's clyde's dickhole dad gonna do??? get him tested??? that man doesn't care and there is no way he's going to let his political campaign and chances at winning governor get even more fucked by having a fuckboy degenerate son...with autism. so! nope!

nevertheless...clyde's thing....is Dinosaurs.

LIKE CLYDE LITERALLY LOVES DINOSAURS OH MY GOD HE COULD TALK FOR HOURS ITS SO UNSERIOUS!!!! he was that kid in elementary school with the big ass dinosaur books and a lot of the boys just gathered around it bc they thought it was Cool but clyde literally just thought they were epic and fascinating and got hardcore obsessed with them. his minor is in archeology <3 ( also yes i do think that him and craig just have crazy autistic boy stim moments and like talk over each other talking abt their thing and watch the land before time & red racer; its their superbowl everytime )

okay, sidebar almost over but please note, if you accidentally start talking about dinosaurs, it will trigger a moment for clyde and he will just start telling you about different types of dinosaur mating patterns and you just gotta listen, i'm sorry -- tolkien does think its cute and sketches clyde when he's babbling a lot bc his face is very expressive also his eyes get v shiny...i love u clyde.

BUT YES!!! CLYDE DOES NEED TO WEAR GLASSES!!! this meme of rilakkuma in the facemask and the glasses and the thrasher sticker is way too real. but yeah he doesnt want to look like a DORK so he almost never puts them on unless he's completely alone and under the radar. tolkien does find them one day cleaning and is like "clyde, don't you need to wear these" and clyde is like NOOO LOL THOSE ARENT MINE LIKE DONT THROW THME IN THE TRASH OR ANYTHING LOL MY WEB COMIC IS OUT TOMORROW BUT LIKE THEYRE NOT MINE LOOOL...i love u dork jock clyde.

my fave post rm college thing is that clyde actually stays on to pursue his law degree/become an actual lawyer and ravenstan goes back to college bc he never got the chance to go to actual school and goes into...some sort of smart, stem boy thing based around plants, botany, zoology, stuff like that.

BUT THEYRE BOTH DOING BIG BRAIN SMART BOY THINGS AS LIKE THE MOST BI DISASTER NEURODIVERENT BOYS OF ALL TIME stan is like oh my god math is so hard pls hold me dude i'm gonna fail my ecology exam dude fmllll and clyde is like bro when ur dad stops paying for ur grades and u actually have to do homework??? wtf do u mean this is due at midnight ITS BOYS NITE

meanwhile tolkien is just doing art boy things and painting and making sculptures submitting his stuff to galleries and kyle is shadowing guidance counsellors in elementary schools and doing elem ed interning stuff like skhdlkshkd amazing and fantastic.

that's all thanks for coming to my ted talk!

-uncle nina, nerd jock clyde agenda

[lemmylemons]

Ok so I'm ranking all the characters worst to best, based on likeability and whose most leveled up for me (I'm biased, it's different for everyone)

(SPOILERS!!)

Last place for me - Tupperware. I HAVE NOTHING AGAINST TOLKIEN HE'S ADORABLE, BUT HOLY FUCK HIS MOVES SUCK ASS, LIKE LEGIT HE HAS ONE HIT ATTACK, A TURRET THAT GOES IN ONE DIRECTION AND BARELY DOES ANYTHING, AND THEN ONE WHERE HE SWITCHED PLACES AND GIVES A TINY SHIELD. That's it. His ultimate sucks too 😔.

11. Toolshed. Stan's like, the most boring character to me, he only goes a little higher than Tupperware cause he can actually fucking hit people. But damn he's just ... Boring.

10. Not much higher than Toolshed, Human Kite. Kyle's also a really boring character to me in the game, he only goes higher cause he's more leveled up and I use him more than Stan.

9. Wonder Tweek. I LOVE Wonder Tweek but he's like, mid range for me. I love him as a healer, but his attacks suck. But he's really useful and really cute in game, especially with Super Craig where Super Craig always tells him he believes in him and Tweek should believe in himself.

8. Professor Chaos, I LOVE BUTTERS, FAV CHARACTER. AND CHAOS ALWAYS CALLS MY CHARACTER CUTE WHICH IS LIKE?? But Chaos and Tweek tie for me, but Chaos goes a little higher as he has more attacks (his minion attack is great if you need an extra turn), but he's a little weak for me.

7. Fastpass. Jimmy is also one of my all time favs!! I love Fastpass, he's a mid range good all arounder for me in small fights, I love him :]

6. Mosquito, worst character in game fucking for real. On likeability, he goes last place (making a list on that too.) But he's really strong and the gross out effect is great.

5. Kenny isn't my fav South Park character, but holy hell he's useful in this game. Mysterion has the ability to come back after dying as a ghost who can heal his team or just put effects on enemies. Which is great if your team is down and you need to quickly start giving out remedies.

4. The Coon. I hate to say it, but Cartman is a great character (in terms of fighting, he's HELLA op) He's really unlikeable in this game, which isn't too out of the ordinary, but he's a fucking bullshit character that I love to use ... Until he recently got kicked off my team.

3. Super Craig, GOD, he's so great, even tho he has 2 minimal one space attacks and a shield, like his health is hella op and he's super strong. The one down side is he's the target for everything istg, he always has effects on him anytime he's in play.

2. WENDY IS MY ULTIMATE FAV IN THIS GAME, SHE'S SO NICE. The demons got out sorry, she's amazing. But Call-Girk might not have the best attacks in game BUT JESUS SHE'S STRONG, LIKE, THE CARTMAN FIGHT, SHE DID MOST OF THE DAMAGE FR. She has some low health, mainly cause she's one of my newer characters, but she's great.

1. MY STRONGEST, BEST CHARACTER IS *very shitty drum roll* CAPTAIN DIABETES! Scott Malkinson is already so cute BUT GOD DAMN, HE'S INSANELY STRONG, JAS BARELY DIED AND ISTG I DON'T CHANGE HIM OUT CAUSE HE'S JUST SO GOOD.

[redbootsindoriath]

Dungalef sure is a master of disguise 🤣💖

Apparently so! The only alternative is that Sauron is just kinda dumb.

[giffingthingsss]

I think Humphrey Carpenter is wrong…to talk about them becoming cold towards one another. I saw nothing of this at all. When I first met him [tolkien], he invited me to see him…he said 'you've got thirty minutes' and he put out one of these big alarm clocks in front of me. You could hear it in the next room 'tick tick tick.' He did most of the talking himself. I was so worried about the clock and 'tick tick tick tick', so finally, he was in the middle of telling me something about Lewis when I said, 'it's half an hour!' He said, 'Sit still. I am the Lord of the Clock, I'll tell you when you can go.' Then when he'd led me to the door he could not have been more tender. He held my arm and he said, 'I'm so sorry you've lost your great friend.' And I said, 'But you've lost one who you knew much longer.' He said, 'No, what makes your case much sadder than mine is you were just beginning to love him. I had many years, but you, you are to be pitied.' Anyway, I found that after that he could not have been nicer in talking about Lewis. One time when I was editing, I showed him some of the letters I was editing from Lewis to Arthur Greeves, 1929…that he and Tolkien stayed up till very, very late as he was reading some of the Middle Earth documents. So I assumed this was the Lord of the Rings. So I asked Professor Tolkien, 'was this the Lord of the Rings…' 'Oh no, no' he said, 'No story had been written. I wasn't really interested in writing stories. I was interested in creating a world. And so it was a language and geneologies and the land that I was interested in, not stories. But you know what a BOY Jack Lewis was. He had to have a story. And that story, the Lord of the Rings, was written to keep him quiet!'... Anyway, Tolkien said, 'Do you know Jack Lewis is the only friend I've ever had who has written more since he died than before.' And I said, 'I know exactly what you mean, and exactly the same will happen to you.' He said, 'No it won't, no it won't, because I don't have that much material, and Christopher won't know what to do.' Wow, was he wrong... But he loved Lewis very much. I think he would have been appalled by what others said about this getting cold. His son John Tolkien told me that he took his father up to see Lewis right before Lewis died, a number of visits he paid to the Kilns to see him. And I said, 'Do you know what they talked about?' He said, 'I remember they talked about Malory's Morte D'Arthur and whether trees ever died.'

[hyunsvngs]

Other than the monsters and monstrosity course, I'm taking an English lit Enlightment class? I can't remember what was going through my brain when I chose this?? probably cuz it just fit on my schedule where I only have to go on campus twice a week 💀 I was going to take Beowulf or Chaucer, but that's for spring 😭 and Tolkien is taught by a nitpicky prof 💀 I only need 8 units for my MA per semester though :D

I had theory criticism research last semester— don't take theory criticism research. I strongly believe that whoever created some of them were just crusty dusty failed writers. For my BA though: I took both fiction/non fiction writing, romantics period, English and environment (that was amazing), american poetry, Shakespeare, and a bunch of other things!

-🍵💌 (sorry I got a little excited)

WOW OK DONT APOLOGISE THAT SOUNDS SO FUN?!?) i’m currently only doing my BA but i wanna do my MA in englit too!!!

i did monsters and monstrosity in my first year and i rly enjoyed it but the professor was SOOO DULL HONESTLY. but i be the same. i am literally in uni for two hours a week this semester LMFAOOO im just so lazy

ALSO. ROMANTICS PERIOD IS LIKE MY FAVE PERIOD OF LITERATURE WVER. I LOVE IT COULD STUDY IT NONSTOP!!!!!! IM GLAD UR TAKIN THAT ITS SOOO GOOOODD

pls keep me UPDATED I LOVE IT

♡ juno

[glorfindel-of-imladris]

16, 17 and 18

16. One of your favourite tropes

Arranged marriage is one of my sweetest indulgences.

17. Something you love that you don’t often share because you’re worried what others will think

I'm not sure there is anything I secretly love. I think I can be quite shameless in fandom, as I hope everyone else would be as well. Just unapologetically enjoy what you enjoy!

18. Something you initially did not like but came around to

Back when I was a baby shipper, I monoshipped intensely and I couldn't even look at Glorthelion or even just Ecthelion content at all. Now that I'm older and hopefully a little wiser, I have grown to love him. I find a lot of joy writing stories with him, to the point that he is now my favourite side character to write in a fic. Funny enough, I find my own personal voice is closest writing Ecthelion! 😂 I will always be Glorfindel/Erestor end game and I will probably take my love for them to my grave, but that is not to say I don't enjoy Ecthelion as a good friend, or as an ex, or as I have recently discovered the joys of, the third person to cap off a most excellent threesome this side of Arda. And! As I have also recently agreed with a friend, I am now brave enough to admit that Ecthelion is, in fact, likely the true fairest of all the "fairest" Elves dear Professor Tolkien ever described as such in canon. He is the only one with the title who isn't The Main Character™ so you know, that just makes it easier to believe! (Conversely, sorry to Fëanor but you, sir, are the Professor's favourite, so I take every superlative about you with a grain of salt.)

[sotwk]

I've always thought that the reason for Tolkien elves losing interest in sex after having the kids that they want is a by-product of his Catholicism. My mum was raised Catholic and she says that she was raised to believe that children were the thing that redeemed sex and that ideally sex wouldn't happen at all. (Idk if that's a universal experience but it was hers) So it makes sense that Tolkien's elves, as 'higher' more spiritual beings would be less sexual beings and so would not partake in sex after they'd had their kids. (Which is why I ignore that particular titbit of Tolkien lore😉)

Ooof! I'm quite familiar with Catholic teachings on sex, and it sounds like the values your mom grew up with were quite extreme! (Religious values and beliefs run across a very wide spectrum, but let's not invite debates on that!) That sounds a lot more like something Mrs. Kim from Gilmore Girls would say. LOL.

I admit I lean more towards the puritan, "higher being" interpretation of Elves, especially the Calaquendi who have seen the Light of the Trees. There has to be something that distinguishes them from the other Middle-earth races, and temperance when it comes to carnal needs and urges (i.e. sex, food), is one of those characteristics. So yes, Elves are less interested in sex than Dwarves, Hobbits, but especially Men, but even their appetites vary within their race.

When it comes to the SotWK AU's interpretation of Thranduil and his Elvenqueen wife, Maereth, here is a rundown of my take on it:

(My headcanons are mostly guided by what was written in the LaCE, because I'm a Type-A nerd who likes rules and manuals, but these are just MY interpretation of it. It's not hardline LaCE compliant either, and regardless, my takes are neither canon nor law!)

Thranduil and Maereth are descendants of Calaquendi, but had not made the journey themselves. Technically, Maereth is closer to the Light of the Trees and arguably more "blessed" in that manner, since her mother was born in Tirion (Valinor), as opposed to Oropher who never completed the journey.

Thranduil was always more free-spirited ("as wild as one of Araw’s Kine", Oropher described him in my fic "The Crown") than the average Sinda, and over the years became even more alike the Silvan people he ruled over.

Silvans are culturally more sexual than the Sindar or Noldor, not necessarily in the sense of being promiscuous, but rather that they take more pleasure in the act itself as way of bonding with their partners, not just for the sake of begetting children.

The Silvans do not lose interest in sex even after thousands of years, and are able to retain monogamous relationships with their partners because Elven bonds (platonic, familial, romantic, etc.) are as enduring as their physical immortality.

This is what helps the Silvan/Greenwood population endure through the millennia, throughout the "Mirkwood" dark ages, and into the Fourth Age and beyond in Eryn Lasgalen. They keep having sex, keep reproducing, and their population is sustained even through attacks and wars.

Oh, and culturally, the Silvans also love children and celebrate the process of raising them as a community. That's a key factor in their population growth too.

Thranduil and Maereth are, foregoing more eloquent terms, absolutely bananas for each other. Epic, epic, love along the vein of Professor Tolkien's love for his wife Edith, and its parallel romance--Beren and Lúthien. Could you imagine Lúthien replacing or loving anyone other than Beren? (I guess you can imagine anything in fandom, but I hope you get my point.) Well, it's the same with Thranduil and his Elvenqueen. It's a rather unpopular take on his love life, but that's how it is at least in the SotWK AU.

So yeah, they never tire of each other and never stop wanting each other, in any way, by any definition. They naturally stop begetting children after Legolas (their 5th), but the lovemaking definitely continues.

Sorry for the delay in this response, Anon--I hope you're still able to see and read this. And I hope the uncalled-for infodump makes it better, not worse! LOL. Thank you for the Ask!

[sauroff]

🔮You can reach into the Beyond and ask the Professor to settle one (1) debate for you.

Ok, I have like 3 of these so, again, sorry to the other anon! I'll give one serious answer and one "I just want Tolkien to kick me in the face" answer. The things I have more doubts about are the ones we know Tolkien didn't know/hadn't decided either. Also, since I have only read the Silm and some small parts of some of the other related books, some of my questions might already have answers. I'll make these based on what's stated on the Silmarillion, LOTR and The Hobbit, and nothing more. So, first question: If given the chance, would the orcs be able to form a peaceful society and live alongside the other races? Like, we know he didn't know how they came to be and what would happend to them after, but I'm curious about this in particular. Second question: Twink Annatar, yes or no?

[middle-earth-mythopoeia]

Heya - for a (hopefully) pleasant ask: Any art you see recently really make you 'oooh'? I've seen some really good stuff go around in the fandom recently.

Hi! Thanks so much for the ask! :) Sorry I'm getting back to you so late! It's partly because this is hard to answer, since there's just so much good art going around all the time, and I wouldn't want to overlook anyone, either!

I will say I just saw this AMAZING art of Goldberry recently, and that made me very happy because she isn't illustrated as often as characters who are featured in the LOTR movies:

And I also saw this art of Aegnor that really love, as well as this artist's other work:

There is also this absolutely stunning art by Alystraea, which is one that I've known about for quite a while, but it did just cross my dash again, and it is just incredible (like all of her things!)

I also loved Khorazir's recent artwork for Tolkien's birthday:

It has the fox in it!!!!! I literally showed this to my mom and I was like THE FOX! It's a wonderful tribute to the Professor :)

In terms of other Tolkien art I have recently seen, I just got the new book that Alan Lee illustrated, The Fall of Numenor, and the paintings in it are AMAZING, unfortunately I don't have digital versions.

This post could easily go on and on and on. I feel like I see a million new pieces of amazing Tolkien-inspired art every day.