You handled them when they came. Not before. Not during all those nights you tried to pre-live them. You handled them in the moment — with the version of you that existed at that exact time, with the clarity that only arrives when something is actually real.
You didn't need all that preparation. You never did.
You were always going to be okay when it mattered.
Worry is not wisdom. Tension is not readiness. Anxiety is not love for your future self.
It's just noise pretending to be useful.And you've spent so much of your one life listening to it.
So the next time your mind serves up the next big catastrophe — ask it one thing:
Has this happened yet?
If the answer is no — you're not solving a problem. You're creating one. In your body. In your nervous system. In the only moment you actually have.
Put it down. Not forever. Just for now.
And come back to what's actually here — which, if you look honestly, is almost always quieter, safer, and more okay than the story your mind was telling.
The thing you're tensed about right now?
In two years you will struggle to remember the details.
In five years it might even be funny.
And right now — in this moment — it is stealing the only thing you can never get back. UR HAPPINESS...UR PEACE
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I have been in hibernation for a while but anywho, I got a little too hard into JRRT esp Silmarillion and I had a hilarious idea for a fic, and a theory:
Here me out:
I will put this idea in a snippet
Please other Silm fans tell me if this would work or no
The One ring glistened on his finger, the elvish script, a longstanding, powerful language, shimmering in the brightness of the fires of Mount Doom, and the sweet embrace of darkness. His greatest work his chiefest triumph: dominion over several more kingdoms than more mortals could dream, corruption abound and bound to him alone.
Melkor- no, Morgoth, would be proud. Then again, the Darkest of Vala never shared power; no, Mairon, or rather, Sauron, had surpassed Morgoth. All would soon be in his grasp, in a way that even Morgoth would envy, that Manwe himself would fear, that all the Valar would tremble before him, the one who turned all of Eru Iluvatar's children into his slaves.
Sauron smirked, his armour shuddering with his black laugh. All in due time, of course. All in due time.
Sauron twirled the ring around his finger, his other arm wound around his helmet, a mouthless terror that amplified his commands and made his slaves cower further into the dirt. His crown would soon grace his brow as all mortals fell before it.
"Are my legions in position?" asked Sauron, turning to his commander, a hideous creature of an orc that would soon beautify itself in swallowing the flesh and blood of other, purer living things. Sauron's eyes glittered at the menacing grin as he donned his helmet, ready to meet that fool Isildur's campaign and the elves that dared to follow in some mortal's footsteps.
Sauron struck down another elf, blood decorating his sword with the all the macabre beauty of cherry wine spilling across a silver goblet- but no, this sight was far better; the dwarves, the Eastern tribes, the human kingdoms that were falling under his spell, orcs slaying men and beast alike, it was a beauty he could never capture in time, in paint, in tapestry- oh, if he could relive it again and again!
Sauron lifted his sword, ready to strike at another elf, when something stopped him.
But who could ever stop the terrifying lieutenant of Morgoth, the greatest horror of his age? The Lord of Gifts, A Great Deceiver?
No one stood in front of him. o what was this feeling that stopped him? It wasn't... no, it couldn't be!
Sauron turned his head fiercely, looking around the battlefield, his menacing form cutting through ranks of enemies and allies alike as he marched towards the source of this sensation, this coldness in his body that should not exist with the heat of victory and Mount Doom about to come.
His golden One Ring glinted in affront, the band rubbing against Sauron's sword with how tightly the Maia clenched his gauntleted fist. Sauron's steps crested the hill, and he looked down to see what it was that dared to stop him.
A sword gleamed in the distance, whilst some mortal creature dared to ride some pathetic horse across the field of battle. The mortal, a woman, came closer to the hill, riding across the valley. Her armour, gleaming in what little light the clouds allowed, protected her various weak points, but under her helmet, her eyes shone with a conviction as bright as the Two Trees of Valinor long extinguished.
'My, what a determined face. Just like Galadriel, like Feanor, like Mandos even. Does this mortal seek glory? Do they not understand death? Surely they do. How refreshingly interesting,' Sauron thought to himself, his fist loosening around his sword in amusement.
Sauron's ring pulsed. His fist clenched once more, his brow furrowing under his helm, eyeing that strange mortal once more. What was it doing? The horse was coming closer, and the woman's eyes locked onto his form.
She was foolish enough to come straight towards him? This would be fun-
Sauron's eyes widened behind his helm. The One Ring pulsed once more, just like the little cold tick that wouldn't go away.
The lady rushed up the valley, coming ever closer still, and that was when Sauron knew why this mortal woman had the recklessness, the fearless abandon to charge straight for him.
Her sword hand gleamed, and upon her first finger, a band glowed in the light.
Many coloured metals made up this mismatched ring, welded together by what clearly was Celebrimbor's own work. It was not ordinary trinket, this charmed jewelry.
Sauron was there to oversee the creation of those rings, the dwarven and man-king rings. He knew every hammer strike, every shade of metal, every decorative carving, the exact lustre of each ring.
And he saw it here.
All of them.
A multicoloured obscenity embracing her finger, every colour a piece of at least one ring that was created, making this terrifying tapestry of metals, all bound for one purpose.
It was clear to him, two things.
Mortals were clever in making something almost exactly like his own- a counter, a sister ring to overthrow his One with the power of Many.
Now he too understood why Morgoth, the strongest and most terrible of the Valar, could feel fear.
TL;DR: Gather the dust and remnants from every ring, heat that shit up, and make a new ring to punch the One Ring in the smooth face with the power of Friendship
I think, I know now, why I like picking apart movies, books and series so much.
Looking at these characters so painfully close as if I wanted to autopsy them.
I think I like the idea of someone thinking about me that way too.
That if there is a way, we can make sense of the flaws of a fictional figure, understand and know them inside out, that maybe someone someday might have some grace on me too.
kinda weird seeing people on here disregard when others clearly indicate they aren't interested in pursuing romantic involvements through here and try to engage them in talking about whether they talk to anyone in particular, who their favs are, whether they would date a specific moot, etc.
perhaps I've overthought this, but it feels like an implicit disregard of someone's boundaries. why not take people at their words and let them be online sluts in peace?
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last year aston martin had terrible luck...a car that went nowhere, strategies and ideas during the race that didn't always make sense, so many points missed out on and an allergy to q3 appearances 99% of the time...seb and lance fought tooth and nail in a car that wasn't playing ball...got points where points shouldn't of been got...zigzagging through the grid to get into the top 10.
Then seb left...
And so did the old car.
And then this year the car seemed good...in fact the car seemed amazing...so much positive energy about the green team...I was so looking g forward to see what lance could do in the new car, even though I was sad to see seb go...but this isn't about seb...or Fernando...
Its about lance...because all that bad luck from last year, it still seems to be hovering around..and stuck to lance.
Lance who has broken his wrists, who has had an infection...who still seems to be fighting against a car that doesn't want to play ball and strategies that aren't playing off...
This is a wonderful talented kid(anyone under 25 is a kid to me 😅) who gets so much hate thrown towards him...and for what?
Lance has his seat for a reason...and sure there's his dad, but nepotism only gets you so far...talent has to keep you there...(mick is also a highly talented kid who deserves to thrive at mercedes)
Lance seems like a kid with a good heart, a sense of humour, friendships within the grid has lots of talent to show...
Also putting lance down to big up other drivers, or any drivers tbh...its never been funny and never will be.
au where spamton neo just breaks and the addisons find him and fix him and then they all live happily together again and spamton is just happy hes no longer the short one anymore
also do you guys think one halloween they all dress up and spamton is mad because he has to be mario and mario is the short brother
