wolffy/shale/andradite/andy • experimenting, pick whatever pronouns you like • ageless cryptid • aspiring weirdo and ally of freaks, geeks, and all animalia • inveterate multifan and multishipper • a lesson on the limitations of wax as an adhesive • mcm6 mutant gang • festering sore with a fractional hugo • something i don't have for something i won't have but somebody will someday • it's all people fighting a hard battle • thankful for our cradles graces (but we're not coming back) • The arc of history bends toward four kelvin iron dust (bend it toward justice, if our wrench is long enough) • Sidebar by @empressofmankind
I think my funniest take on maglor is when I imagine him as a morose waif well before anything bad ever happened to him. He was the emo kid with his preppy family. He was well known for writing laments in the middle of valinor, a place that's notoriously lamentless. There was a whole year in which he refused to speak unless it was in poem or song. There was an even longer period of time in which he refused to put his hair up or wear any adornments when performing because it apparently distracted from the music—he'd just roll into concerts looking like the grudge but kept being invited onstage because he was just that good. I need him to be maedhros and celegorm's (admittedly incredibly talented) loser brother that gets dragged out with them because they adore him.
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I like to think that since Grace is a schoolteacher who never swears and Rocky is an engineer who does swear (a lot, I like to believe), and neither of them are translators/linguists and they were mostly focused on getting the science vocabulary right, that means that a few years later, a hypothetical first (technically second) contact message from Erid to Earth might sound to us something like: "Well, hello there, human friends of Earth! Golly, those astrophage sure were some pesky little buggers, right? We noticed your sun has started to regain its luminosity so that means our intergalactic group project was a success for both of our planets! Top marks! Golden star sticker! Smiley face sticker! Anyway, now that that little pickle is over, we'd love to remain in contact with you! Kind regards, the people of Erid". Meanwhile, if humans were the ones to send a first (technically second) contact message to Eridians, it might sound to them like "Hey, 'sup, fuckers. We the motherfucking humans of Earth are fucking ecstatic to know our badass Eridian neighbors also managed to deal with the $*%€$#@*& astrophage crisis. I shit you not, for a while things here were a bit [thirty seconds of unairable audio], but now that that clusterfuck is over we'd love to keep in touch with you! Ok, byeee bitches, xoxo humanity"
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DON’T become even a casual nerd about historical fashion because you’ll start looking at pseudo-medieval fantasy and going “that jacket and those breeches are 200 years apart and reflect extremely different social movements” and “oh no they were NOT making shirts like that prior to industrialization” and “a fly front? in MY ~1500s???”
undiagnosed autistic people will be like "I don't get upset when my routine changes though!!" and it's because they've built a set of if-then loops in their head to pick from one of 6 different strict routines and they do get incredibly upset when they're unable to keep to any of the 6 scripts. I'm john normal
This is called a fault tree. You will always know how to act if your fault tree captures all possible scenarios. In NASA Mission Control during mission critical events like landings there are huge binders with fault tree protocols, kind of like choose your own adventure books except you’re not the one making the choices, the universe is making them for you and you’re just trying to keep up.
The engineers who develop fault trees, I am told, often imagine new ways for their precious spacecraft to die (new branches on the fault trees) either while in the shower or lying awake at 3am, because human
Hiswiel Sareare, wife of Curufinwë, mother of Telperinquar
Hiswiel = Mist Grey (hiswa) Daughter of or Girl (iell)
Sareare = Pebble (sar) Sea (ear) Female (e)
Years of the Trees and Fourth age design! Thought for design, including Noldorin clothes↓
HC:
Her mother is Telerin, a silversmith, an honorable profession for the Teleri as well as the Noldor, which is where she gets her grey hair colour from, but she leans more towards her father´s Noldor side, who she learned glassmaking from. Her father was a lord in charge of the biggest glassmakign guild in Tirion, so she grew up in the court where she later met Curufinwë through one of Fëanáro´s messengers, who was commissioning glass for the construction of Formenos' great halls.
Having been drawn to Fëanáro´s many speeches before, she quickly became her father´s herald in Formenos, overseeing the glasswork and growing closer to the family, becomign a Fëanorian herself. After Formenos was finished, her and Curufinwë became inolved and married young, much alike to Nerdanel and Fëanáro themself, as Hiswiel also quickly becaome pregnent after their marrige.
She followed Curufinwë and his family at the flight of the Noldor, but when the first kinslaying happened, against her mother´s people, and at the beaches she grew up at when she was a child before moving to Tirion, she quickly left in the panic and took Telperinquar with her but was found by Curufinwë where they fought over what should happen.
When Mandos came saying his doom, she chose to follow Arafinwë, a man she had only seen in passing before, but was family, and Curufinwë said she could keep Telperinquar if he choose to stay with his mother, as Telperinquar is traumatized, I wonder why!, he doesn´t say anything, so Curufinwë tricks her into going back, believing Telperinquar is behind her as Tyelkormo takes her child without her knowledge as Curufinwë keeps her occupied.
After she realizes she has been tricked and the ships have sailed, Arafinwë takes her in, but they never grow close, and instead, she seeks out Nerdanel, ignoring her own parents trying to get in contact with her, and later, when Nerdanel moves back to Formenos, she goes with her, overseeing the glasswork again.
In the third age, when Telperinquar is reborn, he moves in with her for a short period before finding one of Fëanáro´s old houses in the wilderness to live in solitude, much to her disdain.
Clothes:
Years of The Trees:
The different groups of Valinor are more divided in culture and fashion in the years of the trees.
Already leaning more towards her Noldorin side, being a princess of the Noldor means she leaves many Telerin fashion trends behind, especially in her formal attire. She only wears them with family, but does, however, use many more pearls than are normal for the Noldor. Her biggest Telerin indicator is the hairnet with pearls, which is worn a lot by the Telerin, especially in Alqualondë and Tol Eressëa, but also the pearls being embroidered into the fabric instead of seperating textile and metal/jewel craft from each other.
Fourth Age:
The fashion between the different groups of people looks a lot more like each other due to the different groups mingling with each other more after the first age, and now works more like different governments coming together to make decisions instead of countries each making their own decisions.
The Noldorin part of her dress is the length and different coloured layers of the skirts, a white and red one, the yellow, and the grey, as well as her shirt´s collar cut and the opening in her outer shirt´s shoulders and of course the jewelry, exsept the choker that is a fast fashion trend for the Teleri since the years of the trees. The Telerin part is the shirt being a different colour from the outer skirt, and the floral embroidery on it.
*Her skin is paler here as the trees have fallen, so now there´s only the sun to give her UV, instead of a tree filled with small suns, she is also residing in Formenos instead of Tirion, like she did most of her life before the trees destruction.
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LotR using a translation framing device to get out of having to drown the reader in constructed languages for characters that are supposed to be mundane to the viewpoint, but also being written when it was from the perspective of someone who was genuinely handling translation at the time, leads me to the admittedly silly sentiment of "you couldn't write lord of the rings today -- because that's not how modern literature approaches the translation of proper nouns"
if tolkien wrote his books today, he couldn't have called him gandalf the grey!*
*: because it was obviously important to him that the books represent a translation of authentic texts from another world and another time, and while it would have been perfectly conventional in his time as an academic for books translated into english to find a way to represent the meaningful components of their names with equivalents that were likely to be more familiar to the reader, this convention has been largely phased out and replaced with a preference for transliteration. assuming he wrote the books today and pursued this same reflection of his academic interests in his creative ones, it would ring inauthentic to not represent the languages he describes in this way
ik nobody's talking about these songs anymore but I've been thinkin about this ship ever since ERB came out so... I call this "Confessions of a Rotten Ego Renegade Boy" because it's dumb and it fits them
genuinely obsessed w this concept now might draw these gay sillies more
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Since the subject came up, would anybody be interested in reading an extremely self-indulgent fic (866 words) I wrote a while ago about Celebrimbor's dental anatomy and elvish teeth tissue and the impact it has on Annatar and why Finrod could fight a werewolf with his bare teeth? 😭😭😭😭
I know dentistry in the Silmarillion fandom is a very niche interest that probably nobody has, but I genuinely just love my job so much
No more sleeping with my phone within reach because I was having an extremely vivid dream that I was the victim of some sort of mass-poisoning. the notorious poisoner? "The Centipede Cult." They used a specific type of poison, referred to only by its chemical nomenclature, which I somehow remembered perfectly upon waking. It went: □□ Na({}^{2})
Because that makes sense. Anyway, this poison would submit me to its well-known and much-feared symptom: "17 Day Paralysis" in which you're paralyzed for exactly 17 days and you only chance of survival is to be on full machine support for 17 days.
Just before the medical team intubated me I remembered I have a Zoom meeting with my academic advisor today (I actually do in real life) and I needed to email him to let him know I was the victim of a mass-poisoning and would need to reschedule.
I kept trying to type the "□" symbol in my dream but could not figure out how and gave up.
I woke up in real life to find I'd begun drafting an email in my sleep to my professor in the Gmail app. I was apparently using talk-to-text (I often do because of my hand neuropathy) but speaking in Irish, which talk-to-text never understands, so other than the words in English "poison" and "centipede" the entire email was complete nonsense.