DilettanteFeminist

Do you think that, once she figured out a given Cleon's predilections, Demerzel (in her Chetter Hummin disguise) just went to various parts of Trantor looking for people with the right parts/aesthetic/kinks and asking them if they want to be a courtesan?

Oooh but these are very interesting thoughts from @nejkthonlyhrfrhc - how much of attraction is nature vs nurture?

I got curious and found an article in Nature about identical twins with "discordant" sexual orientations and apparently it's a lot of nurture - the "non-shared environment" apparently has a lot to do with the development of sexual arousal patterns.

So there probably is a decent amount of variation between Cleons, given how much difference there is in their environment based on how on fire the galaxy is at any given time (and how busy Demerzel is).

The other question then, is how good Cleons are at knowing themselves and what they're actually into. There probably is an official Cleonic "type" but I'd estimate at most 30% of Cleons are actually into that to the exclusion of anything else. So even if you had Cleons fill out a survey, it probably wouldn't get you that accurate of answers.

My first piece ever for @fall-for-tolkien's Scribbles & Drabbles!

I was trying to come up a prompt I'd like to see and kept coming back to Elrond and Ioreth meeting. It seemed pretty likely to me that Elrond would visit the Houses of Healing while in Minas Tirith. I always really enjoyed Ioreth the books, and Elrond seems very patient with (and used to) especially talkative seniors

thanks for the ask! your sentence is:

All Faramir could do was to show care to Éowyn, and even in that course of action, he knew that she desired no soft words, no expressions of pity. 

When Limby orders ice cream with a friend, she isn’t expecting the day to quickly evolve into a full-on existential panic attack. When she notices the melting ice cream and realizes the impermanence of all things, however, that’s exactly what happens.

Limby takes off into the park, deeply upset, and soon enough finds herself face to face with the physical manifestation of her anxiety over the finite nature of all things, who is named Alyssa. As the two of them talk, however, two truths become apparent.

There’s beauty in impermanence, and Alyssa is hot as heck!

This erotic tale is 4,000 words of sizzling human on sentient existential dread action and lesbian physically manifested anxiety love.

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Silm Fic Rec Game

WHAT A GREAT QUESTION 😈

So I’m not counting anything I put into the Silm Kink Meme, because I feel like my contributions there are pretty obvious right. However, THE fic I would love to see written is The Elros Years.

By which I mean an account of Elros Tar-Minyatur’s kingship of Númenor, but specifically as a dry, bureaucratic political comedy, maybe in the style of in the thick of it. I already have thoughts on what Elros would be like as a king, and TLDR imo he is basically just a young Robert Baratheon, hard into wine and women, spends much of his time on the throne either hunting boar or thinking about hunting boar, and in the later years ie when he’s straight up almost 500 years old he’s an ‘old man yells at sky’ in terms of politics, conservative and somewhat of a luddite, having been raised in a warzone by the noldor’s number one nostalgia dickrider, in a society that is notoriously very quick im terms of scientific, political and technological advancement, but is still 6’5 with Lúthien’s face and Beren’s beard and looks to be in the prime of his youth so you can’t even wheel him away from the podium ygm. An account of why Númenorean kings practice abdication as opposed to passing kingship on via death, and why that reason has 1000% to do with Elros the 500 Year Old Menace and his seventeen hundred concubines.

𐂃 ── Tolkien Disability Spotlight: Éothain.

Drawn for me by @eliounora

Éothain is a Rider of Rohan turned Éomer's secretary after he sustained an injury and lost his leg in the Battle of Pelennor Fields. Éothain is exacting, hard-working, loyal and at times persnickety, in the best tradition of disgruntled civil servants. In Éomer's words, he wields his pen as enthusiastically as he once swung a sword, and was perhaps more suited to the former all along.

Follow Éothain's story across three of my fics:

The Poet, the Lady, and the Missing Leg, the story of Éothain's injury, the immediate aftermath, and how he became Royal Secretary.

The Secret, the story of Éothain's unrequired love.

And finally, Folca, where he finds love after all.

.

“Do you ever regret it? Leaving?” Celebrimbor asked.

Frodo thought about it as they walked down the path. Above the leaves were bright yellow, soon to fade to soft brown. Birds sang in the trees, their songs still unfamiliar and lovelier for it. The day was warm, but the night would be cool—as perfect a time for a walking holiday as ever there had been in the Shire. “Which time?” he replied finally.

“Either.”

“No—I don’t regret leaving the first time. There wasn’t really anything else I could do, was there?”

“And the second?”

Frodo sighed. “Sometimes. But there wasn’t anything else I could do then, either. I came home too changed for it to still be home anymore. But at least I know that it is still there—that Bag End is as full now as it was meant to be when it was dug, and all the woods and gardens are green again. And,” he added, “I’m very happy to have come here to make your acquaintance.”

Celebrimbor smiled. “Don’t say that in respectable company.”

I fell deep into fragrance Youtube.