Prompt - Blog Posts

Prompts- 6.08.2019

Prompt 6: " What does your shadow do while you re sleeping?"

The rain poured down onto any unfortunate soul that night. The only source of light in the lonely room was the lightning from the sky. A little girl turned and toused into her bed, kicking the sheets and her tedy bear onto the cold floor. Unknowngly to her, something watched over her little outburst in pity, right on the ceiling was that little dark silhouette that followed behind her back since the day she was born, her shadow. It swore to keep any monsters from her dreams and from under her bed away and it was going to keep its promise. So he got rid of both and watched her sleep peacefully again, and again, and again...

"So man, what does your shadow do while you re sleeping?"

" What any good friend would do, keeps me safe and sound when things go bad.."

"Whatever you say dude, let s keep watching the news... wait, another crime in the neighborhood? I wonder who could be the criminal this time..."

" hi...hi...hi...hi"

Prompts-05.08.2019

Prompt 5: ,, Please remain calm and stay indoors."

Why? Just why? Why did I let this happen in the first place? It s too late to apologise now...

Ok, let me explain myself. I m a scientist and as you can probably tell, one of my experiments... well, went berserk. It was meant to be an invention that would help clear the sky of all the acid clouds that formed after years and years of pollution. What I didn t expected was that the gaz I invented somehow mutated the already radioactive particles of the clouds, thus bringing to earth a special kind of acidic rain that managed to contaminate half of the population on earth, including plants, animals and destroying inanimated objects such as cars and wood and basically anything organic. So now we have to deal with shortages of potable water, food and having to fight zombie like creatures that can infect everything around them.

It s kinda funny, on one of ours battles a radio could be heard faint in the distance. " Please remain calm and stay indoors" my ass. 'The world won t save itself' , I throught as everything around me went suddenly black and I was knocked out cold...

Prompts-05.08.2019

Prompt 4: ,, Cookies? You re bribing me with cookies? I mean, they are good, but not that good..."

,,Boss, what are we going to do with her? She s toughter than she looks... She won t tell us anything about that 'Secret plan'."

,,Well, that s inconvenient... WAIT, she s a child, right?"

,,I suppose..?"

,,And what do children always like?"

,,Weapons of massive distruction , sir?"

,,No, you soft cucumber, COOKIES!!!... So dear, let s make a deal. For that little piece of information that we want, we will give you a cookie of your liking. Deal?"

,,... Cookies? You re bribing me with cookies? I mean, they are good, but not that good."

,, Is that so? Well then, gentlemen, shall we bring a 'drink' for our special guest to enjoy with the cookie....?"

Story#3- 24.04.2019

I pray that we will meet again On a rainy day "Why on a rainy day?" you may ask So that you won' t be able to tell If the tears I shed are mine Or they are just raindrops that fell from the sky

prompt #7: "“wait, no, don’t take kissing away from me.”

genre: fluff

word count: 1,195 words

a/n: hey there, yeobo-nims! here is a short prompt and i do hope that this prompt is to your satisfaction. it's been a while since i've last written a prompt or anything of the same sort.

and we welcome you guys to kissy kobo's garden! if you want more, you can head to the request box and ask away~ we'd be happy to oblige. anyway, i do hope you guys enjoy this prompt!

- miko ✧

small, childish banters are quite common in a relationship, right? well, it's quite common for you and kobo - knowing how teasing this man could get.

the rays of light slipping through the tiny spaces in the blinds had you stirring up from your slumber. stretching your aching limbs, you face towards the side - only to be greeted by the sight of your beau, fast asleep with his lips slightly ajar, a wee bit of drool leaking on the corner of his lips.

"you must've worked really hard last night, huh?" gently wiping away the drool, you focus on his soft features.

the oh-so-fluffy hair that you love to thread your fingers through, the thick eyebrows that would have you giggling whenever he raises it whilst pulling his fringes away, the sharp nose that you love to boop, the long lashes that tickles your cheeks whenever he showers you with kisses and those red, plump lips that would leave you intoxicated after a kiss.

but besides all of those, what you love about him was how kind-hearted, and dedicated he is. everything about him just makes you happy. the way he would cook you your favorite dish when he knows something good happened or if you're down, he'd be there to drop everything and be with you - making sure that you won't go to bed with a heavy heart.

another, what you love most about him is how he allows the two of you to grow as individuals - not focusing your lives on each other but rather, growing together as individuals chasing their dreams and be each other's support system.

you'd never thought that a guy like him would be the person you'd see a future with.

lost in your own train of thoughts, you barely notice the fluttering of his eyelids.

"like what you see?" kobo sleepily asks with a cheeky smirk finding its way to his lips. "hmm, you really can't get enough of me, huh?"

rolling your eyes in response, you let out a scoff before snuggling close to him - burying your face onto his chest. "i'd always love any type of view," you look up, only to meet a pair of soft brown orbs.

"especially if it's you."

the raspy laugh that leaves his lips had the butterflies in your stomach go wild, causing you to bury your face closer to his chest once again. "uh-huh, nice try [y/n]." despite not liking your cheesy reply, kobo pulls you closer to him and proceeds to rest his cheeks on top of your head.

the sound of his breathing and those grunts when he shifts slightly to make the two of you comfortable was always calming. a minute or so passed and silence filled the air like white noises.

"i want to stay like this forever," he heaves out a sigh before taking in the scent of you. "like what?" of course, you weren't the only one who felt all those things.

kobo, for one, couldn't help but feel his heart swell with happiness and peace. mornings like this was something he'd always look forward to. with you being the first and last person he sees during the day just reminds him of how much he wouldn't want to trade it for anything.

the beating of his heart was like music to your ears. the soft lub-dub that goes on and on like a beautiful symphony, and one thing's for sure, it'd be nice to go back to sleep while listening to it.

a soft hum slips past his lips and the arms around you tighten.

"like this," he says, "having you all cuddled up in my arms and just not worrying about anything."

"but we both know you can't keep still without the thought of having to work," you interrupt as you gently pull yourself away from him, plopping your elbows on the mattress to hold you up.

"i know," a bittersweet smile dances its way on his lips, "but, i wouldn't mind spending a day doing nothing as long as it's with you."

sure, the two of you may have been together for quite some time but there's just something about you that always had him feeling at peace. something he can call home.

"wait, no, scratch that. i still need to go to the gym and work out, and for sure, my lovely yeobo would love to join me, huh?"

hissing at his suggestion, the man before you lets out the loudest laugh. "how about i take the kissing away in exchange for working out with you?"

"sure, i can live without kisses since i love hugging you." kobo confidently answers - no signs of hesitation. "are you sure about that?" you ask once more.

the way his eyebrows furrow at your question was enough for you to nod in acceptance. "alright, no more kisses for you starting today-"

"starting today?"

you nod your head again, "yes, starting today. no morning kisses, no mid-day kisses, and no good night kisses since uri aegi said that he loves hugging."

panic starts to sink in and before you know it, he's already up in your face - a pair of long, slender hands cupping your cheeks. "yeobo, i-i was just kidding."

"y-you don't really mean it, right?" he's become a stammering mess. his brown orbs search for yours - trying to see if you're just pulling his leg. "right?"

"i wasn't joking, bubs, i mean - you specifically said that you can live without kisses." you reiterated what he said. "“wait, no, don’t take kissing away from me.” he pleads, now tackling you on the bed with him hovering on top of you.

having both of your hands pinned on the bed, he looks at you and repeats what he said once more. "no can do, aegi. you said it yourself-"

peck after peck after peck. you couldn't stop the hearty laugh from erupting from your chest after getting cut off by kobo's cheeky advances.

"don't," he pauses before placing another kiss on your left cheek. "take" another one. "kisses" another one, "away" and another one, "from me."

"please," he pleads one last time before leaning down to capture your lips. the sweet taste of those plump, pinkish lips of his left you breathless - taking in the form of yours, as if trying to memorize the feeling and shape for the nth time.

the soft taps of your hand were enough to reel him back and he pulls away with a sheepish smile. "fine, i won't be taking the kisses away from you."

a loud, triumphant cheer fills the room and before you know it, you've once again been tackled by the man who once said he can live without your kisses.

but it doesn't matter. it somehow keeps everything between the two of you fun and alive.

"i love you," he whispers against your neck as he continues to put all his weight on your body. "i love you too but can you please get off of me?"

"no," and soon the four walls of your shared bedroom are filled with giggles and laughter.

Ah. It's a joke. The joke of the meadow. The location for the economy of life choices: a bright and blossoming meadow. You feel played already. Stale air, too hot, and your distressed feelings. The chilling lightness of butterflies.

You're not here as a joke. Nobody comes here as a joke. Calling coming here a summoning has been a fatal insult. You wonder if all your tension is in the tissue around your nerve cells, making you slow. Invisible, you hope. You've heard of someone who went to make a deal, then never returned. Someone who made one, then never woke up in the morning.

''You can use yarrow for tea,'' the fae says, making you spin, springing backward, feeling the grip of the keys in between your fisted fingers. ''Ribwort plantain, too.''

''I come accompanied by friendly spirit to make a deal,'' you say, the words having looped around your mind for weeks, now feeling your heartbeat in your fingers. ''I bring an offering and hope not to trespass across the separating—''

''It's easier to make tea,'' the fae says. He looks your age, maybe; it might be unsayable, because of the smudgy quality about him. Light hair, some dark knowing in his light eyes. Shorter than you, you feel played. A dream make-believe. One just accepts the indefinition.

''I offer five years,'' you say. Rehearsed. Determined and inwardly desperate.

''Five years,'' the fae is nodding ambiguously, agreeing or not. You can't tell. It's stupidly performative. Very flashy, the fae whispers: ''Are you lifting a curse?''

You aren't really lifting a curse. Or is that what it is? It is: avoiding eye-contact. Meaningful sighs, the wordlessness you hate. Running, we’re nothings. Abram, do you hear me. You know you can’t build anything here. Anything anywhere. Running, then midday crashes like narcan, like countering opioid overdoses. Crashes. Crashes. Lingering in dimmed half-underground spaces, thinking I can't think, writing lists of protologisms, for what, thinking I can't think, not finding what you need.

You hate it, and there's more: faulty cause and effect, infinite repetitions, chronic secrecy. Look at the shape of that finger burn, someone laughed, passing you kitchen serviettes. That's not how you meant it, right? That's nonsense. It's funny, actually. It's like a nursery rhyme, look. You didn't find it funny. You are a not-being. A nothing. You look for devices of sense and only find devices of nonsense. You can't think.

''Can you help me?'' you ask.

The fae sits down. Seemingly unbothered by the sun, seemingly unbothered by the power relations implied by the difference in the height of your eyes; by looking upwards and you looking downwards. Of course, though. Of course the implied power is foolish. A pretense. A guise for your amusement. You shield your eyes from the sun.

''What can you offer if you die tomorrow,'' the fae says, not a question enough, eyes too still to be really questioning.

''Wait. Wait. Can you—'' you didn't know the fae can tell, nobody has said, you don't want to know, you don't– the fae deals in life years, you know that, anyone like you knows that; after all the leeching on life, nobody knows how old he is. But nobody's ever said anything about prophecy.  ''Since when can—''

''Just asking,'' the fae shrugs. You exhale like okay. You breathe out like alright alright alright. Stabilising yourself.

Breathe in, breathe out. ''Can you help me?''

''Are you sure that would help you?'' the fae asks. He tilts his head. Actually, he fits – with the butterflies. It's eerie. He fits with the sweet-smelling meadow into a single morph.

''Do you take the offer,'' you correct yourself. Again, you think the asphyxiating presence of omissions, of avoiding eye contact. You hate it.

''No,'' the fae says calmly, and you say, ''What?''

This isn't how the word goes. The word goes: you come, you deal, you die younger. Win some lose some. Sometimes you lose some more, things you don't foresee. As a bonus, a little treat. You've come prepared, you’ve always expected it: an early death; it’s heavy in your pockets, it’s the shape of a butcher knife. But you won't – do that, you won't lose to inaction.

''I'm not giving you more years,'' you bite. And then you sneeze, which feels greatly innapropriate. ''Allergic to pollen,'' you say, somewhat angrily, distantly, empty-handedly.

''So indoors would be more suitable next time,'' the fae is nodding. ''Here, I'll give you a phone number.''

Whose, you think, and feel like dying a little. You think about more disposable phones before you think: I’m not doing that.

''I'm not asking you again, and I'm not giving you more years. That's five years for you. Do you take it?'' You sound unnerved. Not calm. You don't want that to flatter the fae.

''No. You can pick the spot. I'll show up, probably. If I'll be interested.''

''I think you'll ditch,'' you say, maybe against some recommended judgement, maybe to be interesting. ''A cafe,'' you add.

The fae shrugs. ''Text me.''

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25281928

you think: this is stupid. you're caught in a levitation trap between the elevator and the third floor. this is stupid, because you saw him by the staircase and you took the elevator. it's stupid to take the elevator in a four-storey building when you're you. it's stupid that the action-reaction of you and him has had something in between. a few-meter distance. it's not even ignoring when it's so overtly an investment. when you adjust yourself like this. it's stupid.

you think, right, and press the fourth-floor button.

you step out, all wire, when he's two steps from the top. he stops, looks around slowly, then shuffles to the top.

you don't live on this floor, he says.

not new: you reducing the distance. stepping in the way. adjusting yourself back to pre-adjustment. you can call it adjustment, because otherwise you don't call it at all. he probably doesn't. this is the form of investment.

you look around, in imitation, in need a mirror, motherfucker? then look at him. yeah, you say.

he raises his eyebrows. yeah?

okay, you say. okay. let’s play a game. we exchange information. i say something, you guess whether it's true, you say something, then i guess.

he just looks at you for a moment. in stasis.

nope, he then says. no, nope, nope.

what? you feel your face scrunch. come on. why not?

nope, he repeats.

and you think: why not fall all the way in, huh? you've heard a song say distracted on the edge of falling in, and the falling seemed like something to want. and you have wanted, and here you are. disappointed but not surprised. stepping in the way. here you are.

i know your schedule, you say. it's not because – you shake your head aggressively, do a cut, over, redo motion with your hands. restart: it's because my friends study the same—whatever. doesn't matter. whatever. i know you're ditching now.

you inhale, gust-large, and watch him inhale, barely there in his in-stasis-if-you-blink-right.

creepy? he says, a corner of his mouth smiling, and you think, you absolute idiot. you fool. where is your literacy? do you need it spelled out? pulled into the lines that you could read? think confessions wear lipstick like in american films?

so what lecture do i have now, he asks. he glances at his watch with his suburban business gesture, which also says i dress differently on weekends from school days, and it also explains you having told him your shoes would be bad in an apocalypse. and now you look at his shoes and can hear the clicking of him walking up the stairs, and know your steps would be silent like an oath.

why would i make up something like that, you say, with good disgust. literally.

is this blackmail, he squints his eyes.

yes! it's blackmail, you say.

he's still holding his bag, like this is a part of going home. you think at him: it's not! i would put five hundred bags down. i would untie my shoes. this is a thing in itself. you absolute idiot.

okay, he says. what do you want?

what? you ask, on reflex. it floods over you, wetting all your clothes: the fuck it, guess that's it you felt when you restarted the elevator. how your sneakers turned into combat boots, and you stepped out soundly.

i'll think about it, you say, voice coming out strange.

you'll think about it, he repeats. he is again hinting a smile, like he does, like directness is something lesser. and you think, it might be, huh. here i am. he says: then why say that now?

then why say that now, you mock, but it comes out bad, and you cough a little, and shake your head a little. wouldn't you like to know, you say. i have my reasons. the time will come.

he just stands there, calmly. doesn't say anything. frame-freezes, calmly, like he does. and you can't tell whether he's doing deliberate masking or this is what his insides look like. you do like the contrast, though. admittedly. this is not what your insides look like. the appeal of the unknown, huh? certainly when it almost smiles like that. finally, he says: okay.

okay, you repeat. your shoes are sneakers again, so you say: bye.

bye, he says. you blink, inhale, run down the stairs.

okay, then.

What to use instead of 'said'

Normally:

• added • replied • answered • stated • announced • questioned • asked • mentioned • remarked

Loudly:

• cheered • shouted • yelled • demanded • barked • blurted • growled • scolded •snorted

Softly:

• muttered • murmured • mumbled • uttered • stuttered • hissed • moaned • mouthed

Emotionally:

• begged • cried • confessed • complained • promised • pleaded

Why is asking permission for certain things, both romantic and platonic, one of the cutest, most heart-fluttering things ever?

"Can I hold your hand?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Would you like me to carry your jacket?"

"Can I hug you?"

"Would it be alright if we cuddled?"

"Can I play with your hair?"

"Might I walk you home?"

"Can I tickle you?

"Is it okay if I kiss you goodbye?"

"Can I hold onto your arm while we walk?"

"Can I rest my head on your shoulder?"

"Is it okay if I call you (nickname)?"

"I'd really like to kiss you right now, if that's okay with you,"

"Would you let me take care of you?"

thinking about how the act of bringing someone back from the dead comes from a desire not just to bring back the dead person but to have things return to the way they were before they died. which is, of course, impossible. if a haunting is an open wound, then resurrection is a knife widening the cut.

my sister said to me that she doesn’t think Azula would’ve killed Aang if not to bring Zuko home, and that made me realize something very interesting.

Azula doesn’t have a reason to want to capture Aang.

Not anymore than the rest of the Fire Nation. She wasn’t ordered to, but she was ordered to bring Zuko (and Iroh) home. Which she does, by killing Aang and giving Zuko the credit.

And you know what’s interesting? During the main four interactions Azula has with Aang during the second season, she sends Mai and Ty Lee away. She leaves them to fight Katara and Sokka, she leaves them to chase the bison she knows doesn’t have the Avatar, she fights him solo on the Drill and she leaves them to guard a bear and an empty throne while she takes on the Avatar in the catacombs.

She separates herself from them to fight Aang four different times.

From anyone else, it could be a pride thing. But Azula has shown on multiple occasions that she does not value pride above all else. She is insanely strategic, and she’s fine with making it look like someone else is winning if it means she has the upperhand. She admits when she needs help, hence having Mai and Ty Lee in the first place and Zuko in Ba Sing Se. She even apologizes to Ty Lee that one time. Azula does not value pride over results.

She doesn’t celebrate prematurely, either— during the Drill episode, she’s practically the only one who isn’t celebrating the victory. Azula doesn’t celebrate a victory until it’s final. Whereas Iroh in his flashback, a prideful man, had been boasting about burning Ba Sing Se to the ground.

Pride. It’s the food of the wise man, but the liquor of the fool.

It’s as if Azula is trying to capture/eliminate Aang specifically just to give Zuko the credit. The lack of witnesses, the way she seems to pursue the mission as a personal one. She intends to bring Zuko back to the Fire Nation as Ozai requested, but she intends to bring him back her way and get him unbanished.

I think a lot about how Thingol and Finwe were great friends and what a betrayal it must have been to learn about the Kinslaying of the Teleri, of Olwe’s people, Thingol’s own brother, by Feanor, the son of his great friend. Not only is Elves killing other Elves like the biggest taboo that they have, but that it’s your BFF’s son who killed the people that followed you and your brother? The people you were responsible for?? And then along comes your BFF’s grandkids and they’re lying about why they’re really here and nobody tells you about what your BFF’s kid did?? How personal and devastating that must have been to learn about, given what a great friendship there used to be there.  That Thingol had wanted to return to Aman and the Light he saw there, as well as because that’s where his friend Finwe was.  But then he fell in love with Melian and his people settled in Middle-Earth and he wasn’t able to be there when his people were killed. Anyway, this is why I will always have Thingol feelings because, man, that shit had to have hurted.

Ran into my seventeen year old brother in the kitchen at 1am last night and when I asked him what he was doing he just shrugged, said “these are my roaming hours,” and walked off strumming vaguely on his guitar

I like to think that Fingolfin made a big point of making sure that all four of his kids got exactly the same amount of hugs.

He never made a big declaration of it or rubbed it in Finwe's face but it was rather important to him to not repeat that particular mistake

Perhaps there was one kid that he found slightly easier to talk to (maybe Argon since hes the first one to tragically die, or Turgon as they were both on the "stay in tirion" team during the debate) and though this never affected his actions he may have carried the slightest twinge of low level guilt for it

theory: Aredhel was the most skilled among the Noldor at spells of concealment

support:

she was particularly friends with Celegorm, so it's reasonable to conclude that she, too, was a hunter. stealth is a valuable skill for a hunter.

why did a woman who grew so impatient with Gondolin that she badgered her brother for years into letting her leave, and then slipped away from the escort he insisted upon, even move to such a secret city in the first place? Because she's the one who helped hide it in the first place

seriously, someone in the building of Gondolin must've been an expert at concealment spells. Even with Ulmo's blessing, you simply can't build and move en masse to an entire city without anyone finding out where it is without serious juju. why not Aredhel?

Turgon let his sister leave Gondolin on vacation when he never let anyone else go not out of weakness to the pleas of family, but because he knew that if Aredhel didn't want Morgoth or his spies to see or track her, they fucking wouldn't see or track her - and if they could, Gondolin's hope of secrecy was lost anyway.

alas that Eol was even better at it than she was (maybe this intrigued her at first. maybe there was delighted hide-and-seek beneath the dark trees before there was only hiding)

alas that she didn't have time to teach Maeglin all she knew

You ever think about unimaginably far back in the past the event of the First Age are compared to LOTR. Just. By LOTR Gondor is more than 3000 years old. For us 3000 years ago is… It’s not just before the Roman Empire, it’s before Rome even existed. It’s back before Ancient Greece as we usually mean it was a thing. Tutankhamun ruled around 3300 years ago. Numenor is to Gondor what ancient Egypt is to us. And the founding of Numenor was more than 6000 years prior. That’s older than the first recorded examples of a writing system we have

Imagine being a scholar in Gondor and being able to read a diary that was written by someone in Numenor. Imagine reading a 5000 years old letter written by a Numenorean, and not like a transaction receipt or something of the sorts, not something written for functionality when written language was just invented, but something already fully fleshed out and nuanced. Imagine being told that out there the brother of the first king of Numenor is still alive and he could tell you all about him. That’s like if you could just stroll to a Sumerian and ask them what Uruk was like back in the day. If I was Boromir I would have died on the spot meeting Elrond

And like maybe the scholars would have enough documents and proof to say yes, Numenor existed, Elros existed too, but the common people? What would a fisherman or farmer said if you told them about it? The tale about the son of a star who ruled a star-shaped island, and of the star-shaped island who was sunk in the sea after the old kings became evil, that would absolutely be seen as a legend. There’s gotta be plenty of Gondorians who think Numenor was just a tale, a metaphor, that there’s no way the stories are true, and they’d be right to think that because it’s such a wild tale and from so long ago that it just sounds like someone made it up at some point

Why did Galadriel make her star glass?

Did she have a vision of it’s future need?

Or is it like how those who have faced starvation compulsively hoard food?

“May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out.” Says someone who lived through the darkening of Valinor, when light far stronger than the sun and moon went out, and took all the safety and sanity with it.

Three ages of the world later she is moved to capture the echo of the Silmaril that sails the void in a glass vial. Despite all the horror that her family capturing light in artifacts has historically caused.

Just in case.

And then faced with the days growing darker, she faces the same choice her uncle did with his creations: hold on to paranoia, and keep it close. Or give it away, that it might go where it can do the most good.

And she chooses to let it go.

OR

Exile to middle earth wasn’t a problem, until her daughter needed to go to Valinor to heal. Now, she needs a way to get to Valinor when the Valar have not forgiven her.

Because she WILL see her daughter again.

She only knows of one thing that has gotten a ship to Valinor when it was fenced from the Noldor- A Silmaril, carried by Earendil. And so she sets about capturing the light of Earendil, that one day she might trade it for entrance and keep her pride.

But, turns out, the Valar sent a different test.

At a certain point, it’s just Feanor and Eol remaining unrepentant in Mandos.

Feanor nods along as Eol goes off about: the Valar; people usurping what is his; a disloyal wife who betrayed him by trying to separate him from his son; how, if he did any wrong, it was because his hand was forced by people stealing from him, and that is what caused his family’s deaths!

Immediately after this, Feanor goes to Namo and is like. “Okay. I see it now. I was a prick, my bad.”

Namo is so shocked that his watch on the doors of night falters and that’s why Feanor’s return heralds the end of the world. Not with a bang, but with Feanor apologizing.

Fic idea:

There is a hall of waiting for men in Mandos too, right? For them to wait for their loved ones before they go on together? (If I made that up it’s just the fic premise now, but isn’t this where Beren was chilling when Luthien came for him?)

Anyways Elros figures out while he’s waiting for his kids that he can use his Descendant of Luthien powers to pop over to the Elvish side and meet all the dead elvish relatives he wouldn’t get a chance to know until the breaking of the world otherwise.

He realizes most of them are either gonna be there forever cause they demonstrably Can’t Get Over Their Shit, or Valinor will end up a burning pile of rubble as they are released and forced to face their shit whilst alive.

This is a problem because Elros knows his brother craves family, and while they both accept he and his twin cannot be together forever in life or death, he expects these layabout relatives to get off their dead asses and start making up with each other, so when his brother ends up in Valinor, whenever that may be, he has a loving supportive family that isn’t dragging him in a hundred different directions.

Cue dead Elros playing life (death?) coach to a bunch of dead elves. Some of them are conscious enough it’s like having a normal conversation. Some of them are in soothing or disturbing dreamscapes, with various degrees of awareness of where they are, what they’ve done, and what has happened since they died.

Helpful sidekicks include:

- Soon to be released Glorfindel!

- Finwe, cause he’s sick of his family being idiots and sad his BFF Elwe isn’t talking to him.

- Elros’s extremely argumentative wife, who’s a little confused, but she got the spirit.

- Namo very deliberately Not Helping, because they are Breaking Rules, but who keeps giving them hints like “It would be a shame if you dragged this person’s soul by it’s metaphorical ear to talk to that person’s soul, which of course is interfering which is Bad, I hear.”

- A maia representative sent by Nienna (who thinks this is brilliant). It’s a Maia who really loves elves, and is really interested in how to get them to stop self sabotaging with their own stupidity, and yeah. It’s Gandalf.

Pervading questions:

What happened to Dior and the first set of Peredhel twins?

Where are the Feanorians? Did they really get sent to the void?

Why would anyone want to live forever dealing with this nonsense, is Elrond a martyr or just an idiot. It’s just Finwean family drama? forever?!?!Elros is very confident he made the right choice.

I’ll definitely write this outside my head >>

oh my goodness, one of dian fossey’s first close up observations with gorillas happened when she was trying to climb a tree to see them better, but so badly that by the time she’d gotten up the entire group had come out of hiding to look at her: “Nearly all members of the group had totally exposed themselves, forgetting about hiding coyly behind foliage screens because it was obvious to them that the observer had been distracted by tree-climbing problems, an activity they could understand.”

Azula invented modern chemistry to synthesise Copper (I) Chloride to make her fire blue.

Shes got a lab in the palace, she disappears in there for days.

😂 new HC that a tatooine phone book very much exists 10000%

Boba is written in it twice because somebody wrote Bob Fett by accident once but they never removed it

BOB FETT.

Okay but what if that’s not a mistake at all. And he’s actually just some dude and suddenly people are turning up at his door either like. super pissed at him, or they’re throwing like gifts at his feet to get on his good side and he’s like. So tired of this shit?

“For the last kriffing time, my name is ROBERT. I’m not a bounty hunter?? I’m a research scientist from Bogano! I study bantha droppings. No—no—don’t you dare leave that chest of spice—come back here!!”

Thoughts on Yavanna and the portrayal of nature in Arda

And in that time of dark Yavanna also was unwilling utterly to forsake the Outer Lands; for all things that grow are dear to her, and she mourned for the works that she had begun in Middle-earth but Melkor had marred. Therefore leaving the house of Aulë and the flowering meads of Valinor she would come at times and heal the hurts of Melkor; and returning she would ever urge the Valar to that war with his evil dominion that they must surely wage ere the coming of the Firstborn.

And:

It came to pass that the Valar held council, for they became troubled by the tidings that Yavanna and Oromë brought from the Outer Lands; and Yavanna spoke before the Valar, saying: ‘Ye mighty of Arda, the Vision of Ilúvatar was brief and soon taken away, so that maybe we cannot guess within a narrow count of days the hour appointed. Yet be sure of this: the hour approaches, and within this age our hope shall be revealed, and the Children shall awake. Shall we then leave the lands of their dwelling desolate and full of evil? Shall they walk in darkness while we have light? Shall they call Melkor lord while Manwë sits upon Taniquetil?’

Yavanna is differentiated from most of the other Valar in her desire to go to the Outer Lands, and she is alike to Oromë and Ulmo in this, but they are clearly in the minority. She is also in favor of directly opposing Melkor through war, and in that scene where she advocates for it, she and Tulkas are the only ones. Of course, some among the Valar find ways to help other than fighting—after the council, Varda goes out to hang more stars in the sky so that the Children of Ilúvatar do not awaken in darkness—and later the Valar do wage war against Melkor and imprison him. But Yavanna was in favor of fighting and getting involved much sooner. 

It seems a defining characteristic of Yavanna is that she not only loves Middle-earth and its inhabitants, as all the Valar do—she also feels compelled to be involved, to act, to fight. Of course, during the First Age she remained in Valinor with the other Valar. But she is far more in favor of being involved in the world: she went to Middle-earth when most of them did not, and she advocated for intervention in Middle-earth before most of them were ready to do so. Tolkien characterizes her this way consistently. 

I love this, because nature is often thought of as passive, and Yavanna is anything but. As the Valië who created green and growing things, she is probably the closest thing in Tolkien’s writing to a personification of the natural world, and so her desire to play an active role in Middle-earth—and to fight to protect it—says something about how Tolkien viewed nature.

Many people think of nature as a passive thing, separate from humans, which we can own and use however we want. In this understanding of the world, nature does not feel; nature does not act. While some people acknowledge that animals have thoughts and feelings, few people think plants have them. But in Tolkien’s world, trees do think, and feel, and remember—and they also literally fight back against those who hurt them. And the Ents and all of the trees of course come from Yavanna’s thought. Yavanna first thinks of Ents because of her desire to protect trees:

‘Long in the growing, swift shall they be in the felling, and unless they pay toll with fruit upon bough little mourned in their passing. So I see in my thought. Would that the trees might speak on behalf of all things that have roots, and punish those that wrong them!’

And Yavanna says to Manwë that this thought was in the Ainulindalë itself: 

‘For while thou wert in the heavens and with Ulmo built the clouds and poured out the rains, I lifted up the branches of great trees to receive them, and some sang to Ilúvatar amid the wind and the rain.’ 

The trees sang to Ilúvatar!!! The trees sang to Ilúvatar!!! I love that so much. Does this mean that some trees participated in the Ainulindalë as it was unfolding? Or was this merely a vision of Arda in the future? Either way, through this passage and others, Tolkien completely rejects the idea that nature is passive or inanimate, and I love that.

The other thing that stands out to me about Yavanna is her anger. She wishes that trees might ‘punish’ those that wrong them, and says of the Ents, ‘there shall walk a power in the forests whose wrath they [anyone who cuts down trees] will arouse at their peril.’ I love this, and it rings true to me that nature is something whose wrath we arouse at our peril… It’s not that you’re going to be attacked by Ents if you cut down a forest unsustainably (although maybe you should be), but destroying nature arouses its ‘wrath’ in the sense that it throws things out of balance, and creates more problems that end up hurting us, too, because we’re also part of nature.

It also occurred to me that Yavanna is quite different from the concept of mother nature found in a lot of myths, even though mother nature or mother earth would seem like logical archetypes to compare her to. There are some similarities, of course: she is associated with growing things and with plenty. But I feel like mother nature is usually associated with nurturing, gentleness and pacifism, and Yavanna is not a pacifist. And it isn’t that she can never be nurturing—it does say she would ‘heal the hurts of Melkor’ in Middle-earth—but she also wants trees to ‘punish’ those that harm them, and warns of the ‘wrath’ of the forests, and urges the Valar to go to war themselves. And I love that. I hear the echo of her fierce protectiveness in the Ents’ marching song:

We go, we go, we go to war, to hew the stone and break the door; For bole and bough are burning now, the furnace roars—we go to war! To land of gloom with tramp of doom, with roll of drum, we come, we come; To Isengard with doom we come! With doom we come, with doom we come!

Things that are really fucking me up today

Just how close in age Elrond and Elwing are, by the Elf standards. It must be so strange when they finally meet, to look at each other and realize the difference between them is only a little over thirty years.

Like, in comparison Finwe was a thousand years older than Finfarin, and Elrond was already roughly 4000 years old when he had Arwen.

So idk it just must have been so strange for them. A mere thirty years is such a wildly negligible amount of time. They’re basically peers when they first meet.

What's the trope name for when someone finds out they're the Chosen One(tm) and is like "No, thank you" and goes and does something else

consider this: given how much the hobbits are said to love legalese and documentation, I think when the shirriffs tried to arrest Frodo and company on their return Frodo should have just refused on the basis that they have no official proof that he is, in fact, Frodo Baggins

"The Rings of Power" is allegedly-historical fiction being filmed in Sixth Age Gondor and I only want to consume summaries written in the form of Maglor livetexting Daeron his hatewatch of it.

honestly Anakin and Padmé’s secret marriage has so much comedy potential and TCW did not take advantage of that at all

I’m talking ridiculous sitcom hijinks

Anakin diving out of Padmé’s high rise Coruscanti apartment in his knickers to avoid getting caught

Padmé sneaking into the Temple to hang out with her husband, gets caught by some random Jedi, claims she’s there to meet... uh... Master Yoda??? Gets roped into having tea with him for the next 4 hours

They get sent on some diplomatic mission together... (with Ahsoka maybe?). it all goes tits up as per usual... they *have* to kiss to avoid getting caught. they get super into it. Ahsoka coughs loudly like “the bad guys have been gone for five minutes”

Someone asks Anakin why he’s visiting Padmé’s apartment. he claims he’s there to fix her washing machine. Ends up doing odd jobs for every single resident of 500 Republica to keep his cover

ICYMI: fragments of Kidnap Fam fix-it by Jirt

Here Damrod and Díriel ravaged Sirion, and were slain. Maidros and Maglor were there, but they were sick at heart. This was the third kinslaying. The folk of Sirion were taken into the people of Maidros, such as yet remained; and Elrond was taken to nurture by Maglor. (HoME 5, The Later Annals of Beleriand)

The Third and Last Kinslaying. The Havens of Sirion destroyed and Elros and Elrond sons of Earendel taken captive, but are fostered with care by Maidros (HoME 11, The Tale of Years)

Yet not all the Eldalië were willing to forsake the Hither Lands where they had long suffered and long dwelt; and some lingered many an age in the West and North, and especially in the western isles and in the Land of Leithien. And among these were Maglor, as hath been told; and with him for a while was Elrond Halfelven, who chose, as was granted to him, to be among the Elf-kindred; but Elros his brother chose to abide with Men. (HoME 5, Quenta Silmarillion)

There’s some really disturbing stuff in The Nature of Middle-earth; I’m not sure whether these ideas were some of the ones Tolkien considered for how orcs were created, or if he saw them as something different, but he’s provided plenty of fodder for darkfic writers.

…it is recorded in the histories that Morgoth, and Sauron after him, would druve out the fëa by terror, and then feed the body and make it a beast…it [would become] an animal, seeking nothing more than food by which its corporeal life may be continued, and seeking it only after the manner of beasts, as it may find it by limbs and senses.

Jirt, that’s a zombie. It’s dead, non-sapient, still moving around, and only driven by looking for food. And typically created by an evil power through evil means. You invented Middle-earth zombies.

And worse, [Morgoth or Sauron] would daunt the fëa within the body and reduce it to a stupor of horror, so that it was impotent; and then nourish the body foully, so that it became bestial, to the horror and torment of the fëa.

This does seem like a mechanism for the creation of orcs. Morgoth takes an elf, overpowers the fëa so that it is no longer in control of the body, and then, well, the implication is that he feeds the body the flesh of elves or men to further torment the fëa. In the short term, the hröa is basically a beast under Morgoth’s control; over time, the fëa might become more active, but horrified, sickened, and twisted by the nature of the hröa and the purposes for which it has been used. It is evil because, outside of its control, it has done and been used for horrific things that it can’t process without becoming evil.

Brr.