words & excerpts

[slowspinningredemption]

me, writing my characters into an impossibly complicated situation: oh now this has drama… threat… energy… the genius of it all…

me, realising i’m the one who has to then get them out of said impossibly complicated situation: i am a Fool and a Jester

[growingingreenwood]

Legolas has absolutely no concept of ‘personal space’ where is father is concerned, and is a very physically affectionate person.

For the longest time when he was a little baby the only way he would sleep through the night was if he was laying across his father’s chest. Maybe it was his warmth that soothed the little troubled mind, or his heart beat. But either way, if he did not sleep on his father you could count on the little prince waking every hour.

As an elfling Thranduil was a walking, talking jungle gym. Legolas scaled him like a tree, sat on his shoulder, hung from his back, swung from his arms, ect.

All of the time.

He was far better than any tree Legolas could ever find in their forest.

Elrond thought he was hallucinating, when upon a visit to Imladris, during a meeting a little Legolas appeared seemingly out of nowhere, climbed onto his father’s lap and then his shoulders (so he could still look out the window.) And eventually fell asleep, still perched on his shoulder and ALMOST drooling on his head.

Thranduil gave absolutely no indication he had even noticed his newfound shoulder decoration.

Even as a fully grown elf Legolas (usually) kisses his fathers cheek hello and goodbye. He’s been known to crawl into his father bed uninvited after particularly hard or sad days, and sleep there instead. There is no hurt or fear in this world that Legolas would not try to sooth with a comforting hug from his father.

They lay outside in the garden in the summer, reading books or poems to one another, often on these days Legolas will end up laying with his head in his father’s lap while Thranduil absently plays with his hair like when he was an elfling. Usually, he will end up falling asleep before the book is done.

They’ve developed a 'secret code’ of sorts to use to communicate with one another when they can’t talk, or shouldn’t be. Either taps on the others chair or arm to convey smaller messages, such as: “I’m so bored!!” “Will he ever stop taking?” “What is going on I havnt been paying LITERALLY ANY ATRENTION TO ANYONE.”

But for more complex messages the trace certain letters or symbols to convey entire sentences if they want to. Its their favorite way to sneak talk during boreing council meetings.

When they take long walks in the forest they link arms, becoming more one single creature rather than two. And they are certainly not above dancing togeather - especially when they’ve been drinking at celebrations. Thranduil has even been known to let Legolas lead.

He’s given Thranduil wet willys, blown raspberrys on his check (instead of kissing him), tickeld him until he was nearly punched in the face and, of course, many surprise tackles to the ground if Legolas can manage sneak up enough.

And tbh, Thranduil wouldn’t have it any other way.

[words-and-excerpts]

I CANNOT DEAL, THIS IS TOO CUTE

[michaelbjorkwrites]

10 Lessons from a Decade of Writing

Over the last decade, I graduated from high school, got a bachelor’s in writing, earned an MFA in fiction, and started working as a copywriter.

In that time, I grew a lot as a writer — so I thought I’d share the lessons that helped me most along the way!

How does one from each year sound?

2010: Don’t let high expectations be a barrier to good writing

As a teenager, I had unhealthy expectations for my writing. This not only made writing painful, but also held back the quality of my work. Thankfully, in my last year of high school, I had to crank out a short story for a class, with no time to revise as I went. The result? I had fun, and ended up writing a story that was better than anything I’d written before it. That’s when I realized how toxic lofty expectations could become, if left unchecked.

2011: Good stories often depict, or inspire, change

In my first college writing workshop, our professor (of “It’s never about the bread” fame) told us that a good story often does one of two things: it either depicts a change in a character, or inspires a change in the reader. While a bit simplistic, that guidance was invaluable to me at the time. The first option gave me a clear target to aim for in workshop, while option two exposed me to the full, baffling mystery of what makes a story worth telling. 

2012: Clear, specific language brings scenes to life

As a sophomore, I fell in love with Raymond Carver’s minimalism and was particularly struck by the following description from “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love”:

Mel handed me the saucer of limes. I took a section, squeezed it over my drink, and stirred the ice cubes with my finger.

The description struck me as remarkably vivid, yet lean — making me realize how a small description could breathe life into a scene when written with clear, specific language.

2013: Personal experiences fuel good writing

After years of avoiding the genre, I took my first poetry workshop as a junior, and SURPRISE. I loved it. It was the first time I’d ever really tried writing about my own experiences, and it brought an invigorating sense of reality to both my poetry and my fiction. It also inspired me to become more observant, which fed back into my writing and made me better appreciate life’s little moments.

2014: Never mow the same grass twice

Throughout college, I had a trumpet instructor who’d often say, “Michael, I hate to mow the same grass twice!” You can find a full explanation here, but long story short, he encouraged me to fix flaws in my performance immediately upon discovering them, because if you repeat mistakes, they become habits. Bad habits that only get harder to break over time.

I didn’t take his advice to heart in my music, but I did apply it to my fiction. In the coming years, it would be instrumental (ha) in honing my craft.

2015: How to tie plot to character growth

In high school, my stories were all plot. In college, my stories were all character. During the first year of my MFA, I learned how to merge the two, by writing narrators with:

Emotions that drive actions,

Actions that trigger consequences, and

Consequences that compel growth.

This structure is simple, but effective, particularly when your character is motivated by a clear emotional struggle. More about this structure here.

2016: Write the stories that excite you

Throughout college, I almost exclusively wrote non-genre stories, because I wanted to pursue particular goals in that space. I learned a lot in the process, but it wasn’t until the second year of my MFA that I realized my stories themselves had lost a certain spark. So I switched back to writing the genre stories I loved. Like an old friend, the spark came back — and the writing got a lot more fun.

2017: Accept that you’ll never catch up to your expectations

The great irony of being a writer is that the more you hone your craft, the further away “perfection” seems. Why? Because as we improve, we not only overcome weaknesses, but also discover the flaws we never knew existed. So we fix those flaws. Discover new ones. Fix them. And so on. It’s a frustrating, never-ending cycle, and it wasn’t until my final year of the MFA that I was able to fully accept it — finding comfort in the fact that my dissatisfaction was a sign of growth.

2018: Be willing to let stories go

In my first year as a copywriter, the fast pace of agency life quickly taught me the importance of knowing when to “let go” of my writing. At work, it was because I had deadlines. But in fiction, I realized I couldn’t keep revising the same stories forever, when others were waiting to be written. “Art is never finished, only abandoned,” said Leonardo da Vinci, and it’s true. Our stories will never be perfect, so it’s our responsibility to decide when it’s time to cut the cord.

2019: If you want to write meaningful stories, start with what’s important to you

After my fiction professor gave that brief explanation (back in 2011) of what made a good, meaningful story, I became obsessed with finding a clearer answer. Something to grasp onto to guide my writing.

But this past year, I realized it was a bit of a fool’s errand. The things that make a story worth telling are incredibly subjective and different for everyone — naturally arising from their backgrounds, desires, fears, and more.

You can’t predict it. Or at least, you can’t predict it well.

So you just need to look inward. To find what you think is important.

And then write.

2020: TBD

Cheers to a new decade, everybody! May we keep honing our craft and fill the years to come with incredible stories.

— — —

Your stories are worth telling. For more helpful tips on how to craft meaning, build character-driven plots, and grow as a writer, follow my blog.

[heywriters]

Life experience can really affect your writing. I've had a reveal in the works as to the motives of one of my characters. Then I learned that what I had planned to use as a reveal actually happened to a close friend of mine irl. Seeing their reaction to it and how it had affected in them in the long term, I realized my opinions on how 'X' would go down fictionally were drastically off-base and could have a negative affect on multiple character arcs.

Ironically because it's me, I didn't research the topic first. I also didn't think I knew anyone personally who'd experienced this to ask or observe. Instead I relied on how I'd seen it [badly] portrayed on TV and on my own emotions in the hypothetical sense of "if it ever happened to me this is how I'd feel."

Don't rely on hypothetical emotions or imagination. They're useful, but probably wrong. Sometimes researching a subject is good just to remind yourself you know what you're talking about, like Googling a word you've used a handful of times but aren't confident using in a certain context.

If you're writing about anything you have no experience with, don't guess. Don't assume that just because everyone writes something a certain way that they did the research and aren't all portraying it wrong. Knowledge is right there! Apply it to your story before making major plot decisions! Because I, a fool, almost destroyed my characters in my ignorance.

[eruscreaminginthedistance]

Honestly seeing Frodo hate after so long is making me so bitter, cos it’s taking me back to high school when even the kindest, sweetest nerd girls grimaced and complained about how whiny and ineffectual they found Frodo, how they couldn’t stand his scenes etc.  How petulant can one be, to be annoyed by someone’s fragility and suffering?  Ugh it makes me mad.

I think it partly derives from modern audience’s unwillingness to accept an emotionally vulnerable male hero.  Male heroes are allowed to be tortured and conflicted, so long as they do it beneath the veneer of stony-faced stoicism (i.e. your Aragorns).  God forbid they lash out, damage relationships and require the emotional assistance of friends and comrades to help them through (one of the key running themes in Lord of the Rings) because then they’re “whining”, “annoying” and “a burden” to the rest of the cast.

It upsets me, because Tolkien was writing from the perspective of a centuries-long literary tradition.  In Medieval tales, particularly the Romances, male heroes were very emotionally open.  They wept constantly.  The act of being emotionally taxed and distraught wasn’t feminised. Relying on one’s comrades was celebrated; the importance of homosocial bonds between men - particularly knights - was emphasised again and again.

I wanna take this moment to point to Thomas Mallory’s ‘Le Morte d’Arthur’, particularly ‘The Deth of Arthur’ (another tale about a breaking fellowship).

Here we have the mighty King Arthur literally fainting from sadness

Arthur and Gawain literally crying on the floor together, like bros do.  This all occurs within a couple pages of each other.  This is the sort of stuff that Tolkien is trying to emulate with Lord of the Rings.  Stop talking about Frodo being a burden as if working as a team and needing emotional support is a bad thing; it’s the stuff great legends like the above are based on.  I can’t believe Tolkien wrote an epic about how the bonds between friends keep us from falling into evil and some people 80 years later are shitting on this simple message cos Frodo needs to buck up and stop being so affected by all the horrible things that are happening to him.

Of course, it’s also likely that most of these complaints come from people who don’t really understand literary terms like “character development” or “hero’s journey”, basic templates which dictate that the protagonist’s faith and moral capabilities must constantly be tested (ala Gawain and the Green Knight, for instance) before they can emerge the victor, or at the very least redeemed. And in most of these tales, the heroes don’t remain pure and innocent, because the whole goddamn point of the plot is to break these characters down, show their ugly side, push them to their breaking points so that when they win (and their relationships remain intact despite the strain) it’s more satisfying.  It’s a way of reaching out to the audience and saying “these people have flaws and inadequacies just like you, but look, they can be overcome”.

So I’m sorry Frodo didn’t remain your pure and innocent bean throughout the entire fucking story, but that’s precisely why I love him so fuck you; I’m taking my stinky little gnome and I’m going home. Rant over.

[coolnerdyrn]

I agree with all of this except one thing: saying Aragorn is a stony-faced stoic. Because lemme tell you, Aragorn is just as emotional as everyone else. Sure, he had to try and hold it in after Moria, but that’s because he knew if he gave into his own grief like everyone else, they’d all die, and Gandalf’s sacrifice would’ve meant nothing.

((Bear in mind, I’m gonna draw examples from the books and movies, because I don’t want it to seem like he was done stoically in one and not the other))

When Aragorn realized it was Glorfindel who found them on their way to Rivendell, he literally jumps for joy and yells in happiness. And he bodily flings himself at Glorfindel to hug him.

In Bree, he openly admits that he’s lonely, and the reason he didn’t tell the Hobbits about Gandalf at first is because he wanted them to like him just for himself.

When Frodo overhears him singing the “Lay of Lúthien”, Aragorn doesn’t make any effort to hide his sadness.

When Boromir dies, in the movies, you can see it’s taking everything in him not to break down. But that’s probably just because Legolas and Gimli are there, because in the books, they don’t show up until afterward. And what do they find? Aragorn kneeling on the ground sobbing his eyes out.

At Helm’s Deep, when the Elves show up, Aragorn doesn’t hesitate to grab Haldir and hug him, grinning ear-to-ear.

When they arrive at Edoras, Aragorn is visibly distraught at the idea of leaving Andûril in someone else’s hands.

And the look on his face when he sees the Corsair ships headed for Osgiliath and he thinks he’s failed? Pure, unashamed heartbreak. He crashes to his knees, and everything about him just screams “despair.” It’s literally the only time in the whole trilogy where it looks like Aragorn has just flat-out given up.

Aragorn may not be as “vulnerable” as someone like Frodo, but that’s mostly due to his experience as a seasoned warrior. He’s no less open with his emotions; he just knows when he has to keep them in check for the benefit of others.

[eruscreaminginthedistance]

Ah yes forgive me about that slip up, I was full of Red Bull and fury at the time and was mostly thinking about the Peter Jackson portrayals of the characters (since most of the people who complain about Frodo tend to be film only in my experience).  But you’re definitely right about Book!Aragorn being very openly emotional and you make some excellent points.

That yielding the weapons scene in Edoras is burned into my brain cos it was pretty shocking how virulent Aragorn’s reaction was (like, he threatens them if I remember correctly?).  And his moments of sadness are definitely not glossed over.

I think I used Aragorn as an example at the time because adaptations - stories that are inspired by Lord of the Rings - take the Aragorn template and remove much of the vulnerability.  So Aragorn in this sense is mostly just a vehicle for every “stoic serious warrior man” from Fantasy etc.

I’ll definitely admit that all of the characters from the books are very emotionally vulnerable, but adapting that into film just didn’t happen.  Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli all display sadness but it’s much more quiet and muted than in the books. No screaming in fear or jumping for joy, just some quiet looks of sadness, perhaps a manly single tear.  Whilst the characters who retained the most of these traits from the books are the Hobbits, which is why I think modern audiences (of the films that is) perceive them as more “annoying”.

[wufflesvetinari]

the thing about lotr that the movies don’t convey so fully is how the story is set in an age heavily overshadowed by all the ages before. they’re constantly traveling through ruins, discussing the glory of days gone by, the empires of men are much diminished, the elves (especially galadriel) are described as seeming incongruent, frozen in time….some of the imagery is even near-apocalyptic, like the ruins of moria and of course the landscape surrounding mordor

this is a strange thought to me, somehow: that the archetypal “high fantasy” story is set at the point where the…fantasy…used to be much higher? this is not the golden age; this is a remnant

[gaykarstaagforever]

LotR is Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome of the elves.

[wufflesvetinari]

i want to emphasize that people have added excerpts of their theses in reply to this post but this is still my favorite reblog

[violent-darts]

Honestly I’d take it further than that: it’s Fury Road. And that’s part of what makes Galadriel’s choice so fucking central, and so amazing, and so heartbreaking. 

Because she was there. She was there from the BEGINNING. She grew up in the Undying Lands in the light of the Two Trees. She even LEFT the Undying Lands because she could pretty plainly see there was no chance to build great kingdoms or new things there. 

She helped lead her people across the grinding ice after Fëanor and his sons abandoned them. She lived in Doriath at its height, her brother created Nargothrond at its height, the peak of cooperation between Khazâd and Quendi, her cousin built Gondolin. 

And she watched all of it die. 

She lost her brothers, two to war and one to torture and then being half-eaten by a demon-wolf in the depths of Sauron’s first stronghold. She saw Thingol murdered and Melian wrecked. She saw her brother’s shining Nargothrond fall to Glaurung and become a desecrated pit of hell. She saw her cousins die, one by one; then she saw her cousins turn on her own people (again) and murder over half of them. 

She saw all of the lands she’d known wrecked and destroyed: some polluted and destroyed by Morgoth, some destroyed in the War of Wrath. She saw Khazad-dûm polluted and destroyed by the Balrog. She saw Númenor - whose royal line were also her kin, via Turgon and Idril - polluted, turned into a brutal hideous empire and tyranny, and then sunk. 

She saw Celebrimbor, her young cousin, try to make the rings as tools to make the world better - and saw Sauron use and betray him, and then come back and utterly destroy his kingdom, slaughtering his people, who fled to her, to Thranduil, and to Elrond. She saw Gil-galad’s last kingdom and the very Pyrrhic victory in Mordor, followed by the slow but unstoppable decay of what she in Lorien, Thranduil in Greenwood or Elrond in Imladris could actually protect. 

Then she saw her only child captured by orcs and held captive and tortured and gods know what else until Celebrien was incapable of staying in Middle Earth - not for her children, or her husband, or her parents. She saw the rise of the Necromancer and his unmasking. 

She has bled and lost and grieved for thousands of years. Not a single person she came to Middle-Earth with still survives. Celeborn is the only person she loved she has ever got to keep with her, and she met him there. She couldn’t even keep her own child safe. 

And now she’s being offered the One Ring, the source of more power than even Melian had (and Melian was strong enough for the Girdle to protect Doriath from Melkor). She’s being offered the one thing that exists that could even possibly let her change that, make that not so. The only thing that exists that could keep the final end of all of that being the death of Lorien, the loss of Imladris, the loss of everything she ever wanted or worked for. 

Without the Ring, she was strong enough to hold Sauron off. With the Ring she could have erased him. She would have been stronger than Lúthien, who enchanted even Melkor. She could make the whole world like Lothlorien. And Frodo is offering it to her. 

More than that, he’s asking her to take it. He’s saying “I’m too weak, I’m too small, I’m tired, I’m scared, it hurts, I don’t want it. Please say you want it and I will give it to you.” 

And she says no. She doesn’t take it. She doesn’t ask for it. 

She accepts that everything she has ever done is going to die. That she will be forgotten, that her people’s home will decay and disintegrate, that nothing she made or anyone she ever loved made will endure. 

She fights the war that comes afterwards (and the movies ALSO mislead like fuck on that: Lothlorien and Rivendell were both under MAJOR siege during the war and a LOT of people died, and that should be even scarier: that Sauron fully felt he had the power to attack not JUST Gondor, but at the same time the Golden Wood, Imladris, the Lonely Mountain … and in all of them come so close to winning that it’s only the Ring’s destruction that saves the world; that’s how strong he was) in order to make sure that this will happen. That exactly the thing that will be the final nail in the coffin - the destruction of the Ring - will come to pass. 

And then goes back to the Undying Lands as an exile returning on sufferance, alone, because Celeborn can’t bring himself to leave yet. 

Elrond’s story is just about as tragic, and the thing is, this is the context of their last acts: throwing themselves at the war, at death, at the destruction of everything they love, because it’s the only chance that the people who come after them will get anything better than brutal slavery to the Enemy. They don’t get to keep shit. Elrond even loses his daughter - permanently, because her soul goes wherever human souls go. He’s already lost his twin brother like that. 

And despite what everyone draws as parallels, Aman isn’t “Heaven”. There’s no guarantee of healing or happiness there. It’s more likely than in Middle-Earth, but Fëanor’s mother effectively died of exhaustion, and even Nienna, one of the Valier herself, lives in permanent shattered mourning for the desecration and suffering of the world. Even as Frodo’s offered the right to go there the wording is always may. 

His wounds and weariness may be healed. Not will be. But may be. 

There’s no guarantee that Celebrien is there waiting for her mother or her husband when they get there: she may still be the wreck she was when she left Middle Earth. There’s no guarantee of anything. 

So it has a lot more in common with Fury Road, and the end of Fury Road - Max having given his all to help someone else win their victory and freedom, and then walking away because he can’t stay - than anything. And that’s pretty heartbreaking. 

[creekfiend]

guys. i love luthien. every so often i remember that she speaks to sauron using thee/thou and i lose my shit all over again. shes fuckin impolitely overfamiliar with sauron. in his own house. luthien tinuviel: breaks into satans castle to steal his shit; calls him dude

[creekfiend]

best tag on this post

[booty-uprooter]

eowyns 'i am no man/you look upon a woman' moment is great iconic and all that, but how fucking funny would it have been if shed just killed wk without bothering to bring up the loophole she was about to exploit and just let him die all confused about wtf just happened

[lady-byleth]

Now and Forever

Sometimes, when she sat beneath the boughs of the ash trees in the gardens of Minas Tirith, Arwen was reminded of her childhood.

Back then, when her feet dangled above the ground beneath her seat, when she still wove clumsy flower crowns for her brother and her mother sang sweetly beside her, life had been so much easier.

There had been no shadow to darken their days, no Sauron threatening to emerge from years of obscurity. All the darkness she knew had been her father’s stories, heavily revised to not frighten little elflings such as her.

He had told her many things, of his parents who had left him before he was old enough to understand their reasons, of his new fathers and their sorrowful lives, of his brother who had chosen mortality, of Gil-Galad and the War of the Last Alliance.

Back then, Arwen could not name the strange look in Elrond’s eyes for all she saw herself was a dashing hero with a life so full of adventure that it left her dreaming of such a thing for herself.

Now, so many years later, she knew that look for the sorrow it was. Never would she have imagined to be the cause of such pain herself.

They stood together in the highest ring of the gardens at Minas Tirith. Below, just far enough to hear only wordless voices, Aragorn was making futile attempts at wrestling a gleefully teasing Legolas to the ground. Gimli, a mug of ale and a long pipe in each hand, sat aside and laughed merrily. They had already said their goodbyes to Elrond, she knew. His adopted son, his honorary son and their strange new friend.

Arwen smiled gently at their shenanigans before directing her attention back to Elrond who was watching as well, caught halfway between amusement and exasperation.

“Who would have thought that little Estel and his eternal babysitter would adopt a dwarf, of all things,” he mused lightly, though there was a note of something darker there. He was stalling, she knew.

“I seem to recall you saying that you believed anything possible when it came to these two,” she quipped back, throwing Elrond a playful look.

He snorted. “And, as I recall, I said that under duress…while drunk.”

“Losing a wager hardly counts as under duress, father.”

“It does when it comes to your brothers,” he answered, crossing his arms with mock outrage. “All four of them. Three now, I suppose. You married one, after all.”

“Though I have never really considered Aragorn a brother.”

“Oh, I would certainly hope so!”

Arwen hesitated. “What of Elladan and Elrohir?” she asked eventually, steering the conversation where it needed to go.

“What about them?”

“Will they sail with you?”

Elrond did not look at her even when she leaned around him to catch his eye. Instead, his gaze grew distant, as if seeing further than the horizon itself.

“No,” he breathed. “They will not.”

Arwen sighed. “Will they sail at all?”

“I,” Elrond said almost too quiet to hear, “do not know. They said they have not made their choice yet.”

She set a careful hand on his arm, feeling the tension running through the muscles there. “I’m sure Glorfindel will pull them onto a ship by the ear eventually,” she said, attempting humour. A leaf as green as emerald fell onto the balustrade before her and she picked it up, rolling it carefully. “You know he is incredibly excited at the prospect of seeing his friends from Gondolin again.”

“Oh, I am aware. He will not stop singing about the ‘beauty of reunions’, I’m afraid.” He smiled bitterly, once again caught between emotions; fondness and pain. “If only all of us would want to sail so badly.”

A heavy silence descended upon them, as oppressive and choking as anything Sauron could have created. At this moment, the Dark Lord was perhaps happier in the endless void than Arwen’s father was standing in the warm sunlight of a day of true peace.

“You know I cannot come with you,” Arwen whispered gently after the silence grew too loud, fiddling absently with the leaf. Sticky moisture dyed the tips of her fingers a pale green.

Elrond growled lightly and pushed away from the balustrade and the cheerful scene below. He stalked a few steps away, robes sweeping up tiny flower petals. “Yes, you could!” he said. “But you refuse to. For him.”

Arwen dropped the leaf and turned, but did not follow him. “You’re wrong.” Her eyes burned but she blinked rapidly to keep the tears away. “I stay for me. I stay because I choose to, for myself. Not for anyone else.” Her voice shook. “I stay because I want to be happy for my own sake.”

A soft breeze blew between them, lifting hair and tickling skin. As if the Lord Manwë himself wanted to carry their pains away.

After a long time, in which the three friends below fell to quiet conversation, Elrond heaved a heavy sigh. “There is truly no way to change your mind, is there?”

“No.” She shook her head. “None.”

He sighed again and chuckled mirthlessly. “And I always thought your brothers were the stubborn ones.”

She smiled when he turned to look back at her. “We take after you,” she said. “What did you expect?”

“Your grandmother always said her family’s blood flowed too thickly in all three of you.” He sounded vaguely amused.

Arwen gasped in mock offence. “So you blame mother’s side of the family? And that you were raised by Fëanorians had nothing to do with it?”

“No Oaths!” he exclaimed theatrically, shaking his fist at the sky. “I like to believe I got the more sensible traits from them.” He sobered again, eyes falling to the grass.

“You will see them again,” Arwen said, closing the distance between them to take her father’s hands in hers. “Your blood parents, your fathers, mother, Gil-Galad, near everyone you’ve spent so long mourning. They will all be waiting for you there.”

He brought her hands to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “But I will lose something precious in exchange.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I will always be with you, father. As long as you hold me in your heart, I will never leave you.”

A single tear fell from his eye and she leaned up to kiss it away from his cheek. His hands came up to cradle her face, his forehead touching hers. His eyes were closed but she kept hers open to watch his expression.

“Your mother will be sad,” he said, stating a fact instead of attempting to persuade her further.

“Tell her I love her,” Arwen replied, pressing her forehead harder against his as if she could somehow push all the love she felt for him into his skin so he might never forget. “And that I’m happy.”

“I will.” A promise. Her father never broke a promise but he also never gave one freely. “If you promise me to live your life so you will have no regrets.”

His promises always came with conditions. When she had been a child he would promise to read her stories if she promised to tidy her quarters before supper. Now he needed more from her.

“I promise.” She gave it gladly, tears in her eyes. “I love you so much, father.”

“And I love you, child. Now and forever.”

gift fic for @sindar-princeling who always finds something to praise in my writing even when I can’t. She asked for tearful goodbyes between Elrond and Arwen, so here we go. This turned out a lot longer than expected. hope you like, dear!

Additionally, I’m thinking about taking prompts, so if that’s something you would be interested in lemme know.

come visit me on Ao3

[words-and-excerpts]

THE FEELS ARE STRONG IN THIS ONE

[omourningstar-deactivated202012]

I will never understand why people create whole ass fantasy worlds and still oppress women in those worlds.

[blakeseptember]

Like, you can have dragons, but not basic respect for women? Boring. Tired. Basic and sexist.

[wiccanslovakpolyglot-blog]

Top 10 Worst Languages

10. All

9. Languages

8. Are

7. Beautiful

6. You

5. Cannot

4. Rank

3. Them

2. Bad

1. English

[ophiaihel]

— 80s lyric writing prompts. 

great to use as inspiration or an ask meme!

“‘cause when you cut down to the bone, we’re really not so different after all.” [ we are not alone, karla devito. ]

“you play with words, you play with love.” [ private eyes, daryl hall & john oates. ]

“and i’m hungry like the wolf.” [ hungry like the wolf, duran duran. ]

“heartache to heartache, we stand.” [ love is a battlefield, pat benatar. ]

“they call us irresponsible, write us off the page.” [ we built this city, starship. ]

“no, we didn’t light it, but we tried to fight it.” [ we didn’t start the fire, billy joel. ]

“it’s no better to be safe than sorry.” [ take on me, a-ha. ]

“in your eyes, i am complete.” [ in your eyes, peter gabriel. ]

“i don’t know what to do, and i’m always in the dark.” [ total eclipse of the heart, bonnie tyler. ]

“slow change may pull us apart.” [ don’t you, simple minds. ]

“i am the warrior.” [ warrior, scandal. ]

“you can’t start a fire without a spark.” [ dancing in the dark, bruce springsteen. ]

“holding hands while the walls come tumbling down.” [ everybody wants to rule the world, tears for fears. ]

“i followed my hands, not my head, i knew i was wrong.” [ died in your arms, cutting crew. ]

“a little voice inside my head said, ‘don’t look back, you can never look back’.” [ boys of summer, don henley. ]

“if you’re lost, you can look, and you will find me.” [ time after time, cyndi lauper. ]

“this empty house seems so cold.” [ open arms, journey. ]

“and she smiles and she says, ‘this is it, that’s the end of the joke.’” [ pretty in pink, the psychedelic furs. ]

[shepraises]

“I want to be a woman who lives totally abandoned to the first commandment: to love my Lord, my God, with all my heart. I don’t want the reputation that I love God, I don’t want to write songs about loving God, I don’t want to talk about loving God. I want to actually love God. When I close my eyes, I want my heart to move. When I close my eyes and I look at Him, I want to feel alive on the inside. I want to look at Him with a fire in my heart and it’s real.”

— Misty Edwards (via breanna-lynn)

[words-and-excerpts]

Mr. Darcy: [after his first proposal to Elizabeth Bennet] Apparently there are a lot of ways to offend someone.

[butim-justharry-deactivated2019]

Writer: here have some Emotions™

Reader: I don’t want these

Writer: yes you do have some more

[extramadness]

[words-and-excerpts]

legolas is just attitude wrapped up in an elf archer princeling, a thread

Part 1:

‘If Gandalf would go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path for you,’ said Legolas. The storm had troubled him little, and he alone of the Company remained still light of heart.

‘If Elves could fly over mountains, they might fetch the Sun to save us,’ answered Gandalf.

[words-and-excerpts]

Part 2:

[Boromir] led the way, and Aragorn followed him. Slowly they moved off, and were soon toiling heavily. In places the snow was breast-high, and often Boromir seemed to be swimming or burrowing with his great arms rather than walking.

Legolas watched them for a while with a smile upon his lips, and then he turned to the others. ‘The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf, or over snow - an Elf.’

With that he sprang forth nimbly, and then Frodo noticed as if for the first time, though he had long known it, that the Elf had no boots, but wore only light shoes, as he always did, and his feet made little imprint in the snow.

‘Farewell!’ he said to Gandalf. ‘I go to find the Sun!’ Then swift as a runner over firm sand he shot away, and quickly overtaking the toiling men, with a wave of his hand he passed them, and sped into the distance, and vanished round the rocky turn.

aaand that’s all i got so far cus i finished fellowship of the ring and can’t be bothered posting quotes and stuff. sorry dudes. (although there’s still the occasional quote here an there)