90% Of Arguments About Media Could Just Be Solved By Saying “different People Like Different Things

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 >>

“Zuko adopts” bingo

I was describing all of the “x adopts Zuko” AUs that I used to follow on @muffinlance​​‘s blog to a friend, and I referred to them as “Zuko Adopts Bingo”, so same friend  asked “wait, LITERAL bingo?? Did you guys makes cards?”

and I couldn’t remember any, but I had the time tonight so I was like, why not?

[Image Description: a bingo card titled “Zuko adopts bingo”. The the squares are labeled as such:

First row: Hama, Fire Sages, Jun, Hakoda, the Gaang

Second row: the Herbalist, Vattu, The Painted Lady, Other Spirits, Jet

Third row: Zuko, the Beifongs, Iroh/FREE SPACE, Zuko’s crew, Jee specifically

Fourth row: Yuyan Archers, Batman, Dragons, Kyoshi Warriors, the Dai Li

Fifth row: Azula, Jeong Jeong, Team Leverage, Piandao, Wild Animals /end ID] 

—-

I did have specific fics and/or tumblr discussions in mind for every one of these. I might try to link them all in a reblog, but I didn’t take notes while I made this so it might be a hassle to find them again ^^;;

also please tell me if there’s any more AUs I forgot about or that are your particular favorites – or better yet, make your own bingo card and send it to me! Let’s make this a Thing, I’m having fun here :P

If anyone wants a fic with this, I liked Drag0nst0rm’s Scion of Somebody, Probably on ffn

best Gil-Galad lineage headcanon is that he’s not descended from any of them, he’s a pretender to the throne and that’s why his story keeps changing

You're telling me that I can't eat plain marinara sauce for lunch, even if it's my safe food? Who came up with that rule?

elves of arda ✹ gondolindrim ✹ headcanon disclaimer ✹ @gondolinweek

          Itarillë Vanisailë was the daughter of Turukáno Ñolofinwion and Elenwë Calimiel. She was only a child when the Ñoldor marched across the Helcaraxë, a treacherous journey where she lost her mother. Her father, always a serious nér, grew even grimmer after this tragedy and kept Itarillë close to his side.           The arrival of the Noldor in Beleriand allowed for Itarillë to exercise slightly more freedom than she had been allowed on the Ice, though Turukáno still would not allow her to wander far. As she grew into adulthood, Itarillë loved and resented her father in equal measure, for he was the only parent she retained and yet denied her the agency she craved.           Itarillë went with Turukáno to Nevrast, and while she loved the sea she missed the company of those few friends who had not quailed from her father’s intimidating presence, including the young healer Meleth who charmed her to distraction. She missed also her uncle Findekáno, a gay and jovial prince who indulged her more rebellious tendencies and shielded her from Turukáno’s anxiety. Itarillë grew restless in Vinyamar, chafing against her father’s stern watch, and eventually fled secretly to visit her uncle in Dor-lómin (and Meleth, who served in his house) without Turukáno’s leave. Turukáno lost his temper dramatically when he discovered her flight, an incident that resulted in his close friend and cousin Finrod taking him away on a journey to come to terms with his fears and losses.           Turukáno was gone for a year, during which time Itarillë finally felt she could breathe and discover what kind of nís she wanted to be. Finrod arranged for her cousins Orodreth and Tyelperinquar to keep her company while Fingon, Galadriel, and Aredhel kept watch over the band of youths; the cousins engaged in many lighthearted adventures and dramatics, including teasing Orodreth over his infatuation with the Sindarin princess Amathluin, daughter of the rulers of the Mithrim Sindar. Itarillë and Meleth flirted for several months, exchanging a few kisses and love letters before they decided that they were not fated to bond, settling instead into a deep and abiding friendship that would stand the test of time.           When Finrod and Turukáno returned, the distance between father and daughter had mellowed their tempers, and they were reunited with gladness. As Itarillë, or Idril as she became known in Sindarin, came of age, Turukáno gradually relaxed his vigilance over her safety and grew to confide in her of his plans to build a city safe from the dangers of Beleriand. Idril proved an invaluable counselor as he began work on Ondolindë’s construction, and Turukáno proved his trust in her by granting her a noble House of her own once they retreated into the city’s walls.           In the safety of Tumladen, Idril reassumed her Quenya name, and was known both as the Princess of Ondolindë and the Lady of the House of the Wing. She took this symbol from the swans she had loved in Vinyamar, having learned their language from her kinswoman Galadriel, originally of the Teleri of Alqualondë. Among the folk of the Wing were Itarillë’s friend Meleth and her house-carl Hendor, a footman she had befriended during her year in Fingon’s court.           Itarillë was a skilled dancer, both as a solo performer and with her friend Meleth as a partner, and for this and her habit of walking about the streets of Ondolindë unshod, she earned the epessë Telpevontál, or Celebrindal. She was for the most part removed from the politics of her father’s court, for she held more interest in dancing and tending to the palace gardens than quarrelling with her fellow lords. Nonetheless, when she held an opinion on King Turukáno’s policies, she was certain to make her voice known, and all respected her input.           Though Itarillë was not herself a hunter, she would sometimes accompany her aunt Aredhel, Lady of the Tower of Snow, on expeditions outside the city limits. She still yearned for freedom, and though the confinement within the white stone walls of Ondolindë was less stifling for her than it was for her aunt she wished to breathe the open air and have space to herself from time to time. When Aredhel left Gondolin to visit Fingon in Dor-lómin, Itarillë half-wished to accompany her, but she knew her place was at her father’s side. Upon Aredhel’s disappearance and her later death, Itarillë was deeply grieved, for she had loved her aunt dearly.           Though Aredhel perished, her son lived, though Itarillë knew not what to make of Maeglin Lómion, the cousin she never expected to have. His apparent apathy upon the execution of his father unsettled her, and though she was naturally sympathetic to a young ellon so cruelly orphaned his oddness made her hesitate to befriend him. It helped not at all that he seemed to shy away from her, even as he grew more confident in his position as the King’s nephew and revealed a more charming and charismatic side to the people of Gondolin.           Penlod, the Lairde of both the Pillar and the Tower of Snow after Aredhel’s demise, would still at times invite Itarillë to accompany them on hunts outside of Ondolindë. On one such occasion, Penlod also extended the invitation to Maeglin, and he eagerly accepted the chance to see some of the outside world. While on this ill-fated expedition, the hunters were attacked by white wolves from the mountains, and Itarillë and Lómion were separated from the rest of the group.           Lómion suffered a great injury in defending Itarillë from the wolves, and Itarillë, who had learned some healing from Meleth, insisted on treating his wounds. When conventional methods did little to staunch the bleeding, she insisted on Singing the wound closed despite Lómion’s great reluctance. Itarillë and Lómion both were strong in ósanwë, though Itarillë’s talent lay in perceiving the minds of others and Lómion’s in shielding his mind from any who wished to peer into his thoughts; Itarillë had long been curious—and, admittedly, a little suspicious—as to what lay hidden in her cousin’s heart.           As she Sang healing into Lómion’s hröa, their fëar mingled and Itarillë was shocked to discover that Lómion’s secret was his infatuation with her despite their close kinship, now rising to the surface of his thoughts. Astonished and not a little bit horrified, Itarillë faltered, retreating from his mind and succeeding only in making his injury worse. Luckily, they were recovered by Penlod soon after, and Maeglin was tended to by more experienced healers, but the incident deeply affected both cousins. They never spoke of it again, and Itarillë distanced herself from Maeglin more than she had already, engendering further bitterness between them.           When Turukáno marched with ten thousand soldiers to fight in the Fifth Battle, he first asked Maeglin to act as regent in absence, but he insisted on accompanying the King to war. Privately, Itarillë was glad to see him gone, for she trusted her cousin less with every passing year and did not wish to leave Ondolindë in his hands. Indeed, she was offended that her father had gone to him first with this request, and offered the regency to her only after Maeglin had refused. Nevertheless, when the warriors departed, it was Itarillë who ruled the city until the King’s return.           Not long after the disaster of the Nírnaeth Arnœdiad and her father’s ascension to High King of the Noldor, a Man arrived in Gondolin with a message from Ulmo. This was Tuor, son of Huor who had dwelt a year in Ondolindë as a child, and Itarillë was fascinated by the noble bearing and easy charm about him almost as much as she was troubled by Turukáno’s refusal to heed Ulmo’s ominous warning.           Itarillë befriended Tuor, and when Turukáno—encouraged by Maeglin—dismissed her counsel again and again, she and her new companion began to work together on a secret tunnel out of the city and into the mountains. As their collaboration progressed, Itarillë found herself growing deeply fond of Tuor, and gladly accepted his advances when he requested to court her.           At first Turukáno hesitated to see their love developing, but he recalled the last words of Huor his friend: “From you and from me a new star shall arise.” Meditating on this prophecy, he at last agreed to Tuor’s proposal of marriage, giving him the green stone known as the Elessar, once a symbol of his brother’s marriage, to his future law-son as a token of approval. Tuor took the stone and commissioned the smith Enerdhil of the Hammer of Wrath to restore it to its former glory and set it into a necklace he gave as a wedding gift to Itarillë. Tuor joined his wife as the leader of her House of the Wing; in only a year’s time, their son Eärendil Ardamírë was born.           Itarillë’s suspicion of Maeglin only grew in these years, for her cousin made no secret of his distrust and jealousy of Tuor. He gifted little Eärendil a small coat made of mithril, and while she was not so foolish as to deny such a precious gift, she resolved to watch him ever more closely. In Eärendil’s sixth year, Maeglin delved deep into the mines of Anghabar for longer than he ever had before, and Itarillë guessed he was preparing for some twisted scheme.           When at last Maeglin returned to Ondolindë, he was even grimmer and harried than usual; he would often approach Itarillë in private and attempt to speak to her, but his words would die in his throat and he would flee into the darkness. Itarillë confided her worries to Tuor, and her husband thereafter made an effort to remain by her side as often as he could. Shortly before the celebration of Tarnin Austa, Maeglin for the last time caught Itarillë on her own, insisting she take as a gift a curious dagger that would glow should the Enemy come near. Deeply troubled by this veiled threat, Itarillë set aside the blade and never used it, fearing it was somehow cursed.           At last the dreadful doom for which Tuor and Itarillë had long been preparing came to pass, for on the morn of Tarnin Austa the armies of Morgoth attacked Gondolin and its great Fall began. Once more Tuor and Itarillë begged Turukáno to flee the city, but at Maeglin’s urging he instead chose to fight and attempt to hold the city. Itarillë left at once to prepare her secret way, knowing that the hidden kingdom would fall and she would need to lead its survivors to safety, while Tuor reluctantly rallied the House of the Wing to arms.           As Itarillë made her way to her tunnel with Eärendil, she was accosted by Maeglin, whose mental defenses were now tattered and torn. Seeing clearly now that he had betrayed them, Itarillë attempted to fight him off, but with a few of his folk to aid him he captured her and dragged her to the cliffside. Raving and mad, Maeglin ranted that Morgoth’s victory was inevitable and it would be a kinder fate for them all to die at his hands than be tortured by the Enemy’s servants; he seized Eärendil and would have thrown him off the walls of the city had Itarillë not resisted him. He sneered at her for forgetting the blade he gave her, and in a moment of desperation their minds touched briefly one last time.           In that moment Tuor arrived, rushing to the defense of his wife and child. Maeglin swung his blade wildly, striking little Eärendil, but his blow was in vain for the child wore the mithril coat he himself had crafted. Swiftly, Tuor broke Maeglin’s arm, recovered Eärendil, and as soon as Itarillë had the boy safely in her arms he pressed Maeglin to the edge of Caragdûr and shoved him off the edge. Thus fell Maeglin, dying the same death as his father—but Itarillë was reeling, for in their very last moment of contact Maeglin had bared his soul to her entirely, revealing that his treachery had been coerced and that he was under a spell of Morgoth, and that he had been attempting to warn her of the attack for months. It was not enough to make up for the death and destruction and doom, but Itarillë could not find it in her heart to be glad that he was dead.           Yet there was no time to process her roiling emotions, for the battle raged on. Itarillë resumed her efforts to usher the commonfolk of Ondolindë into her tunnel, and Tuor led his warriors back into the fray, leaving his friend Voronwë to guard his family. Tuor forced his way to the battle at the gate, fighting alongside Ecthelion of the Fountain, where he slew three orc-lords and five Balrogs. He was forced to retreat when the walls fell and Ecthelion was injured, and the Fountain and the Wing fell back to the Square of the King, joined by the Tree on their journey. There a bitter last stand was made, in which Ecthelion perished killing Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, and at last Turukáno saw that Gondolin was indeed fallen. He ordered Tuor to lead the retreat of those who yet lived, though despite Tuor’s pleading he refused to flee himself.           Tuor and Itarillë led the surviving exiles through their secret way, giving charge of little Eärendil to Hendor, Meleth, and Voronwë while they ensured the safety of their people. As they fled into the mountains and the city crumbled behind them, the refugees were attacked once more by a Balrog, and were saved only by the intervention of the Eagles and by the valiance of Glorfindel of the Golden Flower, who was dragged to his death by the demon he slew.           Idril and Tuor led the Gondolindrim on a long and winding journey to the Havens of Sirion, and after seeing their son married, departed out to Sea in search of Valinor where Idril had been born. There is more to their tale, and though it is filled with great sorrow it concludes in joy and family reunited against all odds, for though Arda was Marred it shall not be so forever.

Anyway, post-canon/resurrected/reborn/survival AU/Halls of Mandos Fëanor is much more interesting to write because that's the cooldown time, that's the time for character development, for consequences, for despair, for moving onwards. Some people are so caught up in their own burning sense of single-minded purpose that they need to burn out before they can even begin to change.

"Actually in his later writings Tolkien said Maglor died-" *slaps you across the face* fake news I saw him at Dunkin Donuts last night

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.

*Advisor to high king Elessar voice* You can go play with your friends after you finish your politics

reasons not to put image descriptions under readmores

it puts a burden on disabled people to click through to people’s individual blogs in order to have access, instead of browsing their dash like sighted people do

hyperlinks and screen readers don’t always get along, so readmores can actually be more difficult for people using screen readers to access

if you ever change your url or delete your blog, that image is rendered inaccessible

it’s annoying

don’t do it