#ymfingsteadilyon

[thelordofgifs]

WIP ask game: Sore must be the storm, obviously. WHY must the poor storm be sore? What sins has this mere (fictive!) air pressure differential wrought against you, that you should so callously doom it to pain unceasing? Shall none bring it some painkillers?

(WIP titles ask game) also for @polutrope!

Why must the storm be sore? Well, because I am a chronic pain girlie and SPITEFUL. Or rather, because Emily Dickinson says so:

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm -

—"Hope" is the thing with feathers

Anyway! These lines suit Fingon quite well to me, that great hopeful hero of the Noldor, the Eagle-rider. And the storm that can abash him, here, is the Dagor Bragollach; also his boyfriend, who will simply not shut up about how Doomed they all are.

Fingon drew a sharp breath. There was nowhere to turn away, nowhere to look but at Maedhros’ grave and beautiful face. “I would have stopped him,” he said at last, “had I been here.” He had to cling to that, had to believe that if he had been in Barad Eithel instead of fighting in the northern arms of the Ered Wethrin, that if his father had seen his eldest son’s face before he set out on his desperate charge it might have stayed him. “Yes,” said Maedhros. There was a strange look in his eyes. Fingon’s own eyes were stinging again. “Think you that he was right, then? That our cause is hopeless, and the Moringotto will win, and we might as well all make such an ending as he did?” “I think,” Maedhros said quietly, “that it might – it might not be such a poor thing, to end in such a way.” Now Fingon could see the look in his grey eyes for what it was: envy. Maedhros had twice begged for death, on Thangorodrim; the first time Fingon had set an arrow to his bow and prepared to give it to him, when hope unlooked-for had come in the shape of a great Eagle and borne him up to the top of the cliff; the second time Fingon had struggled hopelessly with Morgoth’s iron shackle, and Maedhros in his thin tormented voice had begged him to slit his throat, but Fingon had ignored him, and set his blade to Maedhros’ wrist instead.

This is not supposed to be a very long fic, and yet to my shame it has apparently been languishing in my WIP folder since 6th March 2023. I am GOING to finish it in time for Russingon week that is a PROMISE. Bite me if I forget.

[pearlescentpearl]

I ended up getting three asks about the Morgoth’s Evil Cats thing so instead of answering the same question three times I shall simply make one big post

@theghostinthemargins @ymfingsteadilyon

Okay, so we’re all aware of Tevildo right? Evil cat Maia? How aware are we of Miaulë (female, Tevildo’s cook), Umuiyan (male, doorkeeper for Tevildo), and Oikeroi (male, warrior under Tevildo)?

If you weren’t, now you are

Anyway. Imagine, if you will, being a quartet of cats who somehow survived the Valar sieging Melkor’s fortresses, and the guy standing in charge in the rubble is some self-important dog person who free roams his fucking werewolves all over the place. You can no longer thrive in this household, you are packing your little rucksacks and leaving.

Leaving where? Well... you guess you’ll go sneak into Valinor and check on the Big Boss, you were pretty happy under his employ once upon a time. But the only sneaky way in is, uh... the Helcaraxë. Now, the Big Boss may make crossing it look easy enough but he invented cold! Most Ainu don’t actually care for it no matter how well they endure it.

So now you’re in Araman and you have to wear the guise of normal ass cats or risk being discovered and captured as spies. Which would be personally very inconvenient. So now you’re a very bedraggled quartet of Maia cats by the time you get to the only opening in the Pelóri; the Calacirya where Tirion-upon-Túna lies.

And this is what Maitimo finds while out hiking, and either natural elven compassion for living creatures, or perhaps just plain conditioned reflex from wee brothers (mostly Tyelko) bringing home pathetic injured animals for nursing, has him going, awww poor lil guys, you want some help? And Tevildo and co. normally would gut him on principle buuuut... Maitimo has food. And gentle hands. Is practically a space heater with his inner fire. Plus, he’s carrying them up to Tirion, so fine, whatever, they agree he’s their new servant now. They can just recover in his home real quick and then carry on with their quest.

Naturally, they feel no inclination to leave where they’re being pampered with fresh fish, and chin scritches, and brushies, and all the praise they deserve, and also Laurelin beams are amazing to sleep in? What the hell, there were no Laurelin beams under Big Boss!

As it turns out, evil cat behavior is nigh indistinguishable from normal needy, high strung, asshole cat behavior.

Picture, if you will, the look on Melkor’s face the first time he enters Finwë’s palace, and there is Maitimo pinned to a couch in a Laurelin beam by Melkor’s evil cats, what the hell.

Tevildo and co. are not going back to work under a guy who doesn’t give fish, or chin scritches, or warm beams of light to sleep in, no sir. Shove it up your ass, Big Not-Boss.

Melkor: Oh, that’s just rich. When I demand special treatment, it’s unfair. When I enslave elves, it’s evil. When I make people bleed to express my displeasure, it’s cruel. But when you four do it--

Tevildo and co.: *yawn* Should have been a cat 🙄

Naturally, when Melkor’s scheming starts interfering in their Maitimo time, something has to be done about Melkor once and for all

[searchingforserendipity25]

AU-gust fic prompt:

Locked in a room + There was only one bed, in combination with

"I'll take care of it, don't worry!"

"How long has it been since you've slept?"

Thank you @ymfingsteadilyon! <3

Prompt from this list of AUs, my ask box is always open!

-

There were not many formal inns left to Minas Tirith after the battle at its gates, and the coming of the Rohirrim. Most operated informally, and some families, moved by need and by sympathy, opened the spaces of their vacated houses, the empty rooms of sons made swiftly useful in the grim certainty of their never-return.

"Do not expect food to go with the board. I can find you a place, but the window is boarded, and there is but one bed," the matron said briskly.

Maglor's mouth tightened, as did the hand with which he carried their light satchel, empty of even the last of their bread.

Daeron had grown used to his quick speech, and made a point to speak more quickly still. They had walked the long way from the Bay of Belfalas, making swift time with little rest, and Daeron wished dearly for a lightless place to rest his aching head.

He bowed, in a fashion older than the wrecked city of Minas Tirith, or the first ancient fortress to ever bear that name. "That is well, and better than well. We are most grateful for your hospitality."

"Repair my old loom and mend the hinges as you promised, and be gone by noon of the third day," Mother Morwen said, and sent them off.

The lady of the house looked at them not quite trustingly as they climbed the steps of the crooked staircase, not turning eyes eyes away. She was keen, as some Gondorians were, to sense a working of power when in its presence; though Daeron thought she would not have welcomed them at all, if she found anything to fear or disdain in their bearing.

A light enchantment concealed the strangeness of their appearance among Men. It could not hide the marks of battle on them - Daeron's still healing scratch, stark and ugly on his temple, the slow,  stiff way Maglor moved his knee. They had sought to appear to have the look of straggling soldiers, delayed from the host returning from the Gates of Mordor, and the guise was easy to chant and easy to hold, being very close to the truth.

The room itself was a narrow, slanting garret: a narrow, slanting window lit the caulked walls, cast changeful blue light upon the floating dust in the air.

Daeron rubbed at his cheek, avoiding the wound to his face, and thought wearily of rising once more, and filling the empty ewer, and washing his face as it needed to be washed.

In the end, they made the way northwards and westwards for the coronation. 

It had been a long debate. Maglor, self-wise with long reflection by the waters, avoided yielding lightly on any appeal to heart or loyalty or despair; and Daeron disliked the cities of Men greatly, for their sounds and smell, the cacophony of voices and all the mingled impression of many thousand mortal, splendid, forceful lives bound together in the Music.

Their songs had done grave damage to Sauron in the lands to the East of Ithilien for many years. A slow and gruelling and silent campaign, of enchanted groves and illusions raised up to trick passing bands of Gorthaur’s emissaries, to thwart chariots. To give time, and cover, and safety to the fleeing refugees that were at times forced to flee from their homes, for defying Sauron’s influence and rule and enslaving dominion. 

And now, to hesitate to undertake this journey, after so many others through torment and danger!

All things considered, it would have been rather remiss of them not to make the journey. For one thing, the songs to mark the end of one Age and the start of another must perforce be as excellent as they could be; and neither of them could offer a better wedding gift than their music.

They had laid out arguments for days before deciding, each taking one position one day, and another the next; convinced and unconvinced each other and themselves. Because both of them wished to go, and neither wished to admit it, they had gone on in silence.

It filled the small room, the quiet, followed their shadows against the wall. Already Maglor turned the room's single narrow stool. Before Daeron had sat himself down on the edge of the mattress, he had already turned the stool to face the door, and laid down his lute and long knife ready on his lap where he sat.

"There is no need to worry," he said at last, sensing Daeron's hesitation. "I will keep watch."

“Assuredly not,” Daeron said at once. “And let you keep us both awake with your nerves?"

“I am not beset by anything, much less the nerves,” Maglor said, very dignified, as if he had not spent all the resting hours of their few pauses on the way pacing by the fire, turning a flute between his fingers ceaselessly, eyes distant, set upon a distant past, and a near future. 

Daeron had not generally kept watch at all, for many years; he slept where he would in the wild, and heard the murmurs of the land’s movement as he slept. Danger did not touch him but lightly, for centuries.

That had been before Sauron grew in power, and sent his servants after him, seeking to claim him and use him. Daeron had not slept many nights since without Maglor keeping wary vigil - the palm of his cursed hand raised up, a threat and warning to the world that something foul was awake and listening.

 They had joined their journeys together, they two travelers, both very aware of the danger they courted in evading capture and the danger they might be if captured.

It had been a difficult choice to make, and a difficult life to lead; but it had been easy, very easy, in the end, to let the closeness of a hundred nights under the stars and days spent in quiet turn to shared song, and to a shared life. 

These were not his safe wandering places of years long lost. And yet - and yet, it was the end of an Age. Another one was starting. They had felt it, rising as the sun over cold mist in the days after Sauron’s defeat; a new Age, with very little of ancient lore and ancient power in it. 

“There is no danger,” Daeron said more softly, and knew it was true as he spoke. “How long has it been since last thou hast slept? This is the king’s city, and this the king’s peace. I find it very unlikely we should be beset by wraiths and assassins and robbers tonight, in this place, with how long we have spent guarding the king’s lands already. For one thing, it would lack any poetic beauty at all.” 

“Some poetic justice, perhaps,” said Maglor, who was always a little sore about his own guilt. But the stained line of mouth did ease, a little; and he set aside blade and instrument, and sat beside him him instead.

Daeron sighed. The feelings of the body beside him, familiar and ever-warm, eased the strain on his muscles. He could feel Maglor settling close, slowly, in a rare easing of tension.

There was peace, then, in the small room facing one of the seven broken city walls.

It was a strange notion, and a strange estrangement. Even now, scarred and weary to the bone, Daeron did not think of himself as a warrior. His king was dead, his lady, his teacher, his city; his part in the Music diminished, turned to small, unknown deeds, feats remembered by none, except in short-lived legends, and the memory of his companion.

He was but a wanderer, and not much given to wandering among the company of mortals at that. He had avoided war for many years, and fought in the shadows only. Had avoided the speech of speaking creatures altogether, and spoken to birds only, and then only to Maglor, and to what few people they met. He had not sought glory; he had not sought joy, though he had chosen it, when it grew into a thing that could be had.

Maglor sighed from deep in his chest, with a weariness Daeron felt as his own. His hand, when it held Daeron's, felt as heavy and graceful and terrible as the first time Daeron had taken it, and the closeness just as sweet when his eyes creased for him.

"How long hast it been since thou hast slept? Aye, very well. Let us have some rest, and put aside poetry for a time."

They slept wrapped close together, that night; and in the morning they washed themselves well, and went into the wrecked galleries where there were already markets of fruit and bread operating once more, and sellers offered salted fish from Dol Amroth in honour of the day's celebration; and the grey dawn opened over the splintered and shattered colonnades of the market square.

In the evening, there was the wedding of Elessar, the King returned; and of Arwen, called Undómiel, as fair and noble as Lúthien who danced in the meadows and glades of Menegroth. 

There was a wedding to be had; and the singing, all agreed, was surpassingly beautiful.

[adickaboutspoons]

tagged by @red-sky-in-mourning. Thanks, hon. Hope everything is going better with the power sitch 🧡

Fair warning - I've had a glass of wine, I'm a lightweight, and an amorous drunk.

fave ed gif

I mean, an entire life of male-gaze cinema has trained me to read this as sexy, and boy howdy did it succeed. The toe-to-head "this is the love interest" pan. His fingers skating down his chest in a teasing caress. His cock(ed) pistol. And then you throw in how blazingly hot Taika looks in that wig and beard and leather? The flesh is weak, your honor. And the lizard-brain is even weaker.

fave stede gif

Relatable af, but also, I want to hug him and put him in my pocket for safe-keeping. He looks like a live-action Podling. I love his ridiculous face.

fave ed outfit

I love the classic leathers, and he's the prettiest princess in purple, but my answer is this outfit, specifically right here. The superb fit of the breeches and how well the color complements his complexion. shirt partially untucked and open to the chest. Then him, just laying there with his legs sprawled and drinking directly from the decanter. Look me in the eye and tell me that he doesn't look thoroughly debauched and debauchable.

fave stede outfit

It's a tie between the wedding outfit

and the navy taffeta with brick-red lace trim during the "Arthur's kind eyes" flashback.

What can I say - I'm a slut for red and blue, and the specific hues matched in these two outfits make my brain sing. I covet the fabric of Stede's wedding outfit like burning.

fave blackbonnet song

"Leather and Lace" by Stevie Nicks and Don Henley for them getting together, "Stranded" by Heart for them falling apart. (White Flag by Dido for the reunion IDC if I'm jumping the gun).

fave ofmd fic trope

If you write Stede and Ed engaging in all manner of sexytimes, but Stede is convinced it's anything OTHER than Ed being in love with him because How Could Ed Be In Love With HIM ("this is just what pirates do and we're pirates, so...", "ed is helping me get acclimated to being more casual about touching", "ed is such a good friend to let me do this", etc.)? I'm yours.

ed's hair or stede's hair

So here's the thing. My hair is v. similar to the Ed wig. Long, dark, wavy, shot with silver streaks. It's v. distinctive and defining - like to the point that my college advisor would tell underclassmen to go talk to "the girl with the hair" and they would find me on that description alone (and that a high school teacher once wrote me a v. inappropriate poem entitled 'The Lady With Hair'). And I love my hair. I cut it all off several years ago to donate to Wigs 4 Kids, and while I don't regret the donation, the following few years while it grew back out were TORTURE. So I wouldn't trade it for anything. BUT, if I weren't so deeply lazy, and burdened by sensory issues, I would be serving mid-century high-femme all the times, and Stede's highly styled and shaped curls are The Dream.

longest i've gone between rewatches

It's been awhile, actually? I mean, I rarely go more than a week or two without checking back in on one specific scene or another to make sure I'm remembering it correctly before I mouth off about something here or on Discord, but it's been months since I've watched an episode from end to end. I am planning a full re-watch before the new season drops, though.

hiding in the ship lucius vs. ghost lucius

I was an early adopter of hiding in ship. Like one of my first posts as dancing-with-the-madmen was about how he climbed the un-scraped barnacles on the hull like a climbing wall (we have fun making jokes here at spoondick llc ™,©, ®).

favorite crew member

How v. dare. Rude. Ask me to pick a fav muppet next, why don't you. Gun to my head? Prolly Buttons. He's so deeply and wonderfully weird.

tagging @nicnacsnonsense, @tisziny, @chocolatepot, @ymfingsteadilyon, @poorcitrusmanagement, @bizarrelittlemew, @peachesandpink, @artgirlfunkel, and anyone else who feels the music move them, but no presh, babes (gn).

And, uh, sorry for the overshares and being so horny on main.

[nicnacsnonsense]

I posted 734 times in 2022

That's 137 more posts than 2021!

427 posts created (58%)

307 posts reblogged (42%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@nicnacsnonsense

@ymfingsteadilyon

@chocolatepot

@scribeofpnakotis

@poetic----nonsense

I tagged 659 of my posts in 2022

Only 10% of my posts had no tags

#ofmd - 365 posts

#stede bonnet - 233 posts

#edward teach - 111 posts

#izzy hands - 58 posts

#gentlebeard - 49 posts

#blackbonnet - 46 posts

#mary bonnet - 44 posts

#atlok - 25 posts

#the legend of korra - 24 posts

#lucius spriggs - 20 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#and i think we’re all agreed that either those historical expectations don’t apply in ofmd or they do but stede’s largely oblivious to them

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I wonder if Ed’s repeated instances of overlooking Stede’s hints at his trauma and emotional turmoil is because when the conversation moves in that direction, Stede switches communications styles.

90% of the time, Stede’s communication style is pretty direct and explicit. Stede means exactly what he says, and if there is something he means, then by golly he’s going to say it. Stede is really out here just saying shit like it’s nothing; telling Blackbeard to suck eggs in hell, calling Izzy a complete asshole right to his face, and telling Ed he’s a good man who wears fine things well. Absent any other pressures this appears to be Stede’s preferred communication style.

Except when he gets to talking about his own hurt, where suddenly he’s all cautious forays and gentle implications. This is obviously a pretty deeply-set trauma response from having been bullied and harassed his whole life anytime he showed softness or vulnerability. This means now Stede is super careful about who he lets see that vulnerability and even if he is confident that someone is a safe person he has to fight past that learned response which can be extremely difficult if he’s not given an explicit invitation to share.

Of course, Ed doesn’t know Stede has this trauma response because he doesn’t know Stede has any significant amounts of trauma. He probably just sees Stede being completely out there about everything else and figures that nah, if there was something really wrong, Stede definitely would’ve said something.

899 notes - Posted June 20, 2022

#4

Less of Ed swooning over bearded, plainly dressed Stede, and more of Ed going, damn, I must love him if I still want to fuck him while he’s dressed up like that. More of the Ed who heard about the fancy man in pristine white stockings and lavender velvet breeches and ordered his men to drop everything and follow that ship. More of the Ed who damn near fainted when Stede expertly folded his silk pocket square and told him he wore fine things well. More of an Ed who has always had a thing for a man in lace and frills and had never been much attracted to any kind of rugged manly look even before years of only really socially interacting with other pirates left him sick to death of it.

965 notes - Posted August 26, 2022

#3

When Ed asks Stede to teach him the ways of an aristocrat, he doesn’t really want to be an aristocrat (as he will discover in episode 5). What he really wants, what he’s really asking for, is “teach me how to let myself enjoy the finer things, how to embrace the things that being me joy.”

Likewise, when Stede says he wants to be like Blackbeard, it isn’t really about being a pirate. What he’s asking for is “teach me how to be someone people respect and like, how to be able to walk into a room and have people be excited to see me.”

And the real trick of it is, the solutions to both those things are exactly the same. Find someone who understands you and loves you for being exactly who you are.

1,372 notes - Posted July 23, 2022

#2

OFMD AU where:

Mary does not hate the ocean

She doesn’t like the ocean either, you understand, but she doesn’t hate it.

When Stede gifts her the model ship she’s just like, fine, you know what, sure let’s do it. She is ready to try literally anything at this point

She does have one condition: if Stede gets to live out his dream life at sea, she wants to explore her passion for painting and hire an instructor to come on board with them. Stede happily agrees. Enter Doug.

Revenge was Stede’s dream name for a pirate ship, but that seems inappropriate for a family vessel, so he goes with his second choice, Royal James.

The Royal James has the same crew as the Revenge does in canon. Stede is not aware when he hires them they are pirates. They are not aware that Stede isn’t a pirate. This causes some confusion when Stede shows up to take command with his wife, their kids, and her painting instructor in tow. Ultimately, Lucius manages to suss out what’s going on and the crew elects to keep the whole being pirates thing on the down low for the moment.

Stede reads his kids a bedtime story every night. After about the first week he notices that the crew is always conspicuously hanging about while this is happening, and story time gets moved up to the deck. Pretty soon everyone starts showing up for story time, even Mary and Doug.

The crew does discuss the possibility of mutiny once. Oluwande is against it; he didn’t become a pirate by choice and he’s not giving up a respectable job with kind employers who pay well to go back to it. Wee John expresses concern for the children if they mutiny. The Swede insists that of course they wouldn’t hurt the children but Wee John is still concerned that the whole thing might be traumatizing for them or something. At that point Jim stands up and leaves, making it clear they do not support any mutiny. The idea fizzle out pretty quickly after that.

There is one aspect of a pirate’s life at least some of the crew would be reluctant to give up, but over the course of a couple of careful conversations across a few different days, Lucius is able to confirm that Mary & Stede don’t have any problem with any of the crew being gay. Stede is especially supportive. Huge ally, Stede. Because even though he’s not gay, he’s for sure interested in women, he absolutely could see why a man might be attracted to another man. Men are very attractive creatures! Even though, again, he personally prefers women. Lucius decides to leave that one to work itself out.

Louis adores Karl. Accordingly Buttons, who is Karl’s friend and can even talk to him, becomes Louis’s new hero.

Mary and Stede decided against bringing an official tutor on board for the children. Instead Lucius helps with their reading & writing and Mary and Stede split any other subjects between them. One day as Stede is teaching the kids math, he sees Frenchie kinda leaning over trying to watch and Stede invites him to join the lesson as well. Soon after everyone in the crew is invited to join in on any of the lessons Stede is giving that they want to. Not everyone is interested and no one is interested in everything, but he does have some takers. Mary is pretty skeptical at first, but Doug convinces her it’s a good idea and she ends up opening up her lessons as well.

The crew also teach the kids things. Practical things about sailing and maintaining a ship, of course, but also things about their own unique interests and skills. Roach teaches them about cooking, Black Pete how to whittle, Frenchie and playing music, etc. Mary does have to put her foot down when Jim starts teaching Alma how to throw knives. Even Stede backs her up on that one.

Miraculously, this harebrained scheme of Stede’s appears to be working? The kids are certainly having fun and Stede… Mary had known he was miserable before, obviously, but she had never fully appreciated what a stunted shell of a person he’d been worn down to until now. Because now he’s thriving, he’s happy and full of life and actually seems to fill up the space he’s taking now. Mary still isn’t in love with him, she never will be, but she doesn’t hate him any more either. She thinks they may be friends now.

Mary is really blossoming too. Not hating her husband has lifted a huge weight off of her, and exploring her passion for painting has really allowed her to find herself. And then there’s Doug, who is so sweet and so supportive. He really understands her, and she’s so happy having him around.

They encounter a Spanish vessel and are boarded under suspicion of being pirates. Unfortunately the Spaniards do not speak ecclesiastical Latin, but fortunately Olu does speak Spanish pretty well.

Not that well.

Jim ends up having to out themself — first as not a mute, and then just goes all in with not a man as well — but they are able to convince the Spanish that they aren’t pirates. Good. However, the Spanish captain is a total asshole and stabs Stede in the gut as they’re leaving just because he can. Less good.

Roach does what he can to treat Stede, but says it’s really bad, and they need to put into port as soon as possible.

The closest port is Nassau, aka the Republic of Pirates. Mary is initially against going there, figuring the next closest port would be less risky for everyone, including Stede, even if it’s further away. The entire crew ends up outing themselves as (former) pirates to convince her they can handle Nassau and everything will be fine.

Everything is not fine.

Blackbeard is also stopped at the Republic of Pirates at the moment and he takes an instant shine to Stede…’s ship. Definitely the ship. He decides to take the Royal James and add it to his flotilla, but that does leave the problem of the Bonnet family. He can’t kill them; he doesn’t kill kids unless they’re, like, really bad kids. He’s not a bloody monster. But just leaving them at Nassau is probably as good as a death sentence for this lot. So he decides to let them stay on the ship until he can drop them off at a different port. In fact, he’s feeling generous, so as long as they don’t make too much trouble he’ll sail them back home to Barbados even.

Mary and the kids will be staying on the Royal James, but not Stede. Stede is going to be brought aboard Ed’s ship, Queen Anne’s Revenge, as further insurance of good behavior. And Stede will be staying in the captain’s quarters with Ed because of… reasons. Very good reasons Ed doesn’t feel like sharing at the moment.

Oluwande and Jim also switch over to Queen Anne’s Revenge so Stede has some friendly faces to watch out for him. Black Pete really wanted to go over to Blackbeard’s ship as well, but Lucius felt he was most needed with the kids, and as much as Pete wanted to join Blackbeard, he wanted to stay with Lucius more. Awwww.

In exchange for Stede, Olu, and Jim, Ed sends Izzy, Fang, and Ivan over to the Royal James, with Izzy intended to be the new captain.

Izzy is a terrible captain, and everybody hates him.

Still, a standard throwing-him-overboard mutiny seems a bad idea with Blackbeard right there. Instead Mary and Lucius tag team him with a combo of girl power and bitch energy. Toxically masculine toxic bottom Izzy completely buckles under the pressure of that much fem dom.

Mary is the captain now.

Izzy runs crying to daddy, but Ed just finds the whole thing hilarious. Mary agrees to give up the Royal James upon reaching Barbados and to stay with the flotilla until then to protect Stede’s safety, but refuses to directly engage in pirate activity to protect the safety of her children. Ed finds those terms agreeable and Mary is allowed to stay captain. This is the last straw for Izzy and he leaves in an absolute snit. All that settled, they sail onward.

And onward.

See the full post

2,654 notes - Posted April 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Thinking about Stede and how he’s concerned about his crew being potentially traumatized by violence and how encouraging and supportive he is of their creative endeavors and how he stood up for Ed against a room full of passive aggressive bullies and how he stood up for Buttons and Karl (RIP) against Jack being a violent bully and how he sat there with Ed as he was having a breakdown in that tub and reassured him that he was a good person and that Stede was his friend, and thinking about that one post that says something like you grow up to be the hero that wasn’t there to save you, and I’m just having a moment here, okay.

2,676 notes - Posted April 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[amuseoffyre]

From @ymfingsteadilyon : All of those, but 35, 36 and 37 to start?

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

I raise a hand in passing salutation to writing rules and do whatever my brain tells me :D It leads me down very bizarre rabbitholes and I probably do write a load of tropes, but it’s rarely done intentionally

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice…what do you Know?

Many. Many. Many. Things. I travel and collect information and lore and stories and history and craft skills and... anything to keep my fizzy brain happy. Most niche thing is probably details of the Siege of Eger of 1552. Ask me about their giant tumble-wheels of DEATH and their flaming floral frisbees some time :D

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

“Wow, they never finished much” or “good god, did they write anything that wasn’t queer, playing with gender identity or ND???” :D Turns out that even before I knew exactly what my noggin was making of me, I was writing that stuff.

[thelordofgifs]

I actually agree with the propaganda post arguing for silly elf rights, but in the end I decided that "unhinged manipulation" is more in keeping with the spirit of this poll. So:

Tralalalallion of Rivendell is in fact Maglor in a wig, gleefully trolling everyone within earshot carefully maintaining his cover as somebody who's really bad at singing.

what unhinged manipulation? I would never allow such a thing! thank you anyway (through gritted teeth).

[thelordofgifs]

For the Silmarillion ask game: Ask the Professor, Change One Thing, and Eldritch Power Or Biology?

(Silmarillion ask game!)

Did ask the professor here and change one thing here.

A lot of figures in the Silm have weird Eldritch powers or possibly biology. Tell us about your headcanons for one.

Ok I don’t think this counts as eldritch specifically, but elves can’t see the colour purple!! It seems odd to assume that they have the exact same range of vision as humans, but also I’m sick of elves constantly being the Superior Race who can Do Everything Better so the range of wavelengths which they name visible light is, while slightly wider than humans’, also shifted to the long-wavelength end of the spectrum a bit. So they can see infrared radiation (although probably not well enough to have actual heat vision), and they can’t identify the colour purple at all. It looks blue to them actually. As some very very vague support for this, I can’t actually find any words in Quenya or Sindarin that mean “purple” (although I may not have looked hard enough) – but mainly I just think this is cool.

[thelordofgifs]

Thought I was picking ask game questions at random, but apparently I'm in a snooping mood today: Any WIPs that will never see the light of day and why? An idea you have that you can't quite call a WIP yet? What's a headcanon you have about your own fic? And if one of your fics was going to get you arrested, which one and why?

(fanfic ask game)

Any WIPs that will never see the light of day and why?

I keep abandoned WIPs in a separate folder so I don’t have to stare at their corpses all the time; there are a couple of them! Some months ago I started one fic where Maedhros gives Celegorm and Curufin a long-overdue scolding for the Nargothrond Incident, but at that stage I didn’t really have a strong enough grasp on C&C’s characters to be able to make any progress on it (tfs has helped with that a lot). I might come back to it some day, but it doesn’t much excite me so I doubt it.

An idea you have that you can't quite call a WIP yet?

I have a whole Sticky Note full of these! This morning I woke up very intrigued by an AU in which Maglor accepts Morgoth’s offer to release Maedhros… except Maedhros is in an extremely bad state and possibly actually in thrall to Morgoth. It would be… dark. I am trying to be disciplined about not starting to actually write new WIPs right now, but the daydreams are fun for this one.

What's a headcanon you have about your own fic?

I’m not sure this counts as a headcanon exactly? But tfs thought: in Barad Eithel Maedhros does not have a room to himself. This is because when they first arrived there after part 20, Maglor was still very ill, and Maedhros wouldn’t leave his sickroom, so that guest wing eventually just became “Maedhros and Maglor’s rooms”. Although now he tends to spend most nights with Fingon but it is all very secretive – he’s still worried about the political consequences of anyone finding out about their centuries-long affair.

If one of your fics was going to get you arrested, which one and why?

Maybe the cursed Finrod/Sauron ficlet – definitely the darkest thing I’ve ever written!

[thelordofgifs]

3 Questions for Fanfiction Writers! ✨ 13, 17 and 32.

(questions for fanfiction writers)

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

It was Harry Potter: I was in that fandom for years, and it was SO formative to my writing, but then JKR turned out to be a terf and now… well, it’s hard to derive much enjoyment from it any more. Sigh.

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

I used to say “enemies to lovers”, and then I… wrote some enemies to lovers (well more rivals to lovers but still). Let’s say mpreg, I am pretty sure I will never find that appealing lol.

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

keep it in remembrance: Nerdanel teaches her sons to bake.

[thelordofgifs]

Sending you a *~star~* for any section of writing you'd like to give the director's notes for.

(director's cut ask game)

Let's talk about the final section of all those that follow!

The Silmaril burned. It was the worst pain he had ever felt, a soul-searing fire, charring his hand to nothing and making the rest of his flesh crumble to ash too, just as his father had once, and he would let it – let it unmake him, it was what he deserved, he who had given up everything he was for the sake of a jewel he could not touch—

“Káno, drop it.” An ancient instinct of obedience made him open his fingers before he had even recognised the voice in his agony, and the Silmaril fell to the ground at Maglor’s feet. He was still – not whole. He was a murderer too many times over to call himself whole. But he was standing yet, and a little of the red mist of pain had receded from his vision.

This is one the single worst moments of Maglor's life. But even now he's still Maglor, for all that he worries about unmaking: he still does what Maedhros says unquestioningly. So the phrase "an ancient instinct of obedience" was very important here. Also worth noting: in the first paragraph Maglor is very close to forgetting who he is completely, and so I made sure not to use his name even once - it's only after he's dropped the Silmaril, and can think through the pain again, that he comes back to himself.

Maedhros had not dropped his own Silmaril. He seemed scarcely to even notice the way his hand was withering around it; he was staring at the charred ruin of Maglor’s own palm instead.

“Nelyo,” said Maglor. But what was there to say? He had followed Maedhros into slaughter, willingly, and here was the price he must pay, the mark of the Star-kindler’s disapproval seared into his flesh; but the price was Maedhros’, too, who had never demanded Maglor’s loyalty and always needed it, who had bent his neck for so long under the terrible weight of Maglor’s devotion and saw, now, what it had wrought.

One of my favourite and most niche headcanons!

broke: Maedhros killed himself because the pain from the Silmaril burn was too much to handle

woke: Maedhros killed himself because the knowledge of what he'd become was too much to handle

bespoke: Maedhros killed himself because the knowledge of what he had led Maglor to become was too much to handle

Anyway, their entire relationship in this fic can be summed up by the phrase "the terrible weight of Maglor's devotion", which I worked out while I was on my way to the train station and then muttered repeatedly to myself the entire evening until I could get home and put it in the fic. Throughout the fic Maedhros repeatedly says or implies to Maglor that he doesn't want Maglor to follow him unquestioningly, and that Maglor's willingness to do anything Maedhros asks terrifies him. This was a fun interpretation to play with: the idea that Maglor's unending loyalty, which is so detrimental to his own moral development, actually hurts Maedhros too! But also: he "had never demanded Maglor’s loyalty and always needed it". Codependence my beloved.

Still – still – Maglor could not say he would have done differently, had he known.

Maglor!! That's the wrong conclusion!!

Maedhros understood all this, of course; perhaps Maglor said some of it aloud, in his pain-dazed state, or perhaps Maedhros knew because he always did. Maglor could not have said, later – it came back to him in jumbled images, impressions more than true memory. The light of the Silmaril in Maedhros’ hand, the way all the white flame of his spirit seemed to lick closer to the surface of his skin in answer. The dreadful, unflinching self-knowledge in his eyes.

Maglor did not know if he had said something at the end: he did not know what would be worse, that Maedhros had made some goodbye which Maglor had not registered in his shock, or that after everything his brother had not cared to ease the pain even a little. Or perhaps he had known that some pains were past easing.

Had he screamed as he had fallen? If he had, Maglor’s own cry had drowned it out. Perhaps he had laughed instead: but no, that was Maglor trying, over-clumsily, to write his father’s legacy onto his broken, blazing brother instead, and doing them both a disservice in the process.

This bit is kind of just generically sad tbh. Not much to do with the broader themes of the fic.

This was all that was left, now, the remembering. For some time Maglor thought he would not be equal to it. He stood where Maedhros had stood, gazing down into the flame, and knew that falling would be the easiest thing he had ever done. Let Maedhros decide, he had thought, for nearly five hundred years of the Sun; now Maedhros had decided, irrevocably so, and it was Maglor’s only to follow after him.

Quite deliberately, he stepped away from the chasm of fire, and picked up his Silmaril again, and turned towards the Sea.

But this, of course, is the climactic moment for Maglor. He's followed Maedhros for so long; he can do it again. Instead, he chooses to live - far too late for it to really mean anything. This moment was meant to be a deliberate parallel with the one, earlier in the fic, where Turgon watches Fingon die, contemplates making a self-sacrificial charge to avenge him, and instead calls the retreat from the Nirnaeth. They both, at the last, choose not to follow their brothers.

[thelordofgifs]

For the Middle Earth ask game: skull, hourglass and the rewriting pencil?

(Middle-earth emoji asks)

💀 Hey, did you know-: What is your favourite piece of behind the scenes trivia?

I am not great with trivia, but I do think it’s so funny that when Tolkien decided Bilbo’s magic ring was actually the One Ring of the dark lord Sauron, he released a second edition of The Hobbit which purported to contain the actual true story of how Bilbo got the Ring from Gollum, AND retconned the first edition as Bilbo’s unreliable narration. His commitment to the I-am-but-a-humble-translator bit was INSANE.

⏳ time and age: which poorly aged scene from LOTR is your favourite?

I… honestly can’t think of any scenes from LoTR that have aged poorly? The movies as a whole definitely have flaws – the lack of diverse casting being a big one – but I can’t think of any particular scenes. I will say that I adore Éowyn’s romance with Faramir even if there is sometimes Discourse about whether or not it’s a suitably feminist ending for her.

✏ rewrites: here's a pencil, which ONE thing in the novels/films are you changing?

I am currently in the middle of a rewatch of the films, and this weekend I was raging a little about the slander of my boy Isildur. He was done SO dirty in FoTR 😭😭 he was literally riding to Rivendell to seek out Elrond’s advice about the Ring when he died!! He wasn’t just some power-crazed idiot!! Leave him alone!!

[thelordofgifs]

Fine, I'll ask it: Eldacar bingo?

No bingo :( he is bestest beloved boy anyway. I project onto him SO HARD all that immigrant child trauma aaahhhhh. He’s so so underrated but I am on a mission to change that.

[thelordofgifs]

Fanfiction Work-In-Progress Guessing Game: thoughtful/ly

(WIP guessing game)

Eight WIPs and not a single instance of thoughtful! As a consolation here's a "thought", from The Unburied:

There were many of Fingon’s friends and acquaintances who had turned away from him, after what he had done; he had not thought it mattered, at the time.

[thelordofgifs]

Ask game: a few sentences from something you haven't posted yet, and your riskiest line?

(writer ask game)

answered my most risque line here!

👻- 2 or 3 sentences from something you haven’t posted yet

Fëanor stared at the statue. Although it was motionless, he could see nothing in its face to distinguish it from the living Narwaner; the light played off his features in such a way that his very pores seemed to glisten, and the little dimples of his smile were perfectly positioned. “The likeness is marvellous,” he said. “This must be her finest work.”

[thelordofgifs]

Ask game: What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

(fanfic writer asks)

Hmm. Looking at my output both over the years in different fandoms and recently in silm fandom, probably the most consistent theme is sibling relationships and their complexities! Always feral about a good sibling bond. In terms of general themes... grief, trauma, hope? Looking at various writing of mine (both fic and original) as I've grown up you can definitely see the directions of my thoughts and interests changing, so I don't think there are many larger consistencies.