That viral post that's going around about how people who write "book quality" mlm fic are too "normal" to publish and have real jobs so only "weird" people publish their "shitty" fanfic is so completely out of touch with reality and I am giving a massive side eye to everyone reblogging it.
Not only is it completely, easily verifiably untrue (you cannot enter any professional writing space without tripping over a dozen grizzled scifi writers who got their start by filing off the serial numbers and publishing their Star Trek fanfic even going back decades ago??? it's a whole thing?? plus how can you look at the mlm category on Amazon right now and say with a straight face that people aren't publishing shitty Spirk and Stucky fanfic??? Oh, honey...) it's also the perfect example of this kind of sneering elitism that true artists would never sully themselves by seeking profit, they do it only for the purity of the thing that always somehow leads back to, "no one should be paid to make art, actually."
The only reason you're seeing more published fanfic right now has nothing to do with the idealistic purity of your hypothetical government employee written smut of the past vs the debased scribbles of those awful straights of today and everything to do with the fact that a) self-publishing has created a voracious readership that wants a ton of content so it's become a viable, flexible income stream for many, especially disabled people b) anyone can publish now with self-publishing tools so there are less gatekeepers and c) lockdown got a lot of people into fandom and therefore writing who never tried it before.
And if you really think there's no "shitty" published mlm and no "book-quality" m/f writing out there that started as fanfic, then you are clearly not a reader so why are you even talking about this?
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it might seem like im just a totk hater, and to be fair, i AM, but its not bc i think its bad in every way- if it was all bad, ok, then its all bad and we can forget it happened and can all accept that-
but totk specifically hit the jackpot of -things that frustrate me so much i cannot let go and need to talk about it-
its part of my current hyperfixation (or whatever is the right word), botw is one of my all time favorite games, and that one had so many mysteries i was DEEPLY invested in, its got great music and some absolutely fanatstic moments, some ideas are great to fine, but it doesnt make sense, i hate time travel like little else in games, it constantly contradicts itself, the franchise, even its previous game its supposed to be a sequel to, i felt like i was made fun of by the game itself, for caring so much about what they had set up or done in botw, the moment i saw what they did to the shrine of life i felt so devasted i could hear people pointing and laughing at me for having cared about it, the writing treating me like i am so brainless i cannot connect dot one and two when there are only two dots in front of me labeld 1 and 2 that it then tells me to connect directly, to my face, multiple times, before showing me how to draw a line, its full, so SO FULL of missed opportunities, its got choices in there that are just nothing but frustrating bc there were a hundred other ones, i can see what you could do wit hthe basic ideas, theres people that worship it to a point you cant say anything even mildly critical, even about objectively bad things (there is no excuse for that godawful arrow menu) bc they will jump at you like a rabid animal-
i could go on but you get the point, never in my life has anything hit me like that
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Returning to an old conversation about magic in LotR, something occurred to me the other day: Sting was a far more effective weapon against Shelob than Sam's sword, slicing through multiple of her webs with a single sweep and cutting into her belly without much apparent effort from Sam. The text is a bit unclear for the brief portion of the fight when Sam is using two swords, but it seems to me that the only wound Sam's own sword scores against her is against one of her eyes: "The shining sword bit upon her foot and shore away the claw. Sam sprang in, inside the arches of her legs, and with a quick upthrust of his other hand stabbed at the clustered eyes upon her lowered head." While both swords could potentially be shining, Sting is established to be glowing at this point due to the proximity of the orcs in the tower, so I'm inclined to believe that the shining sword here is Sting, the one that chops off the end of one of her legs no problem, while the other one strikes against her eye, established two paragraphs later to be her softest spot.
Now Frodo attributes this potency against Shelob to the sword's origins. "There were webs of horror in the dark ravines of Beleriand where it was forged." And basically this pans out, Gondolin, where Sting was made, was not too far from Ered Gorgoroth, where Ungoliant and her spawn (including, most likely, Shelob herself) lived until Beleriand fell. The logic here, is, perhaps, similar to the reasoning for why Frodo and Merry's barrow-blades were so potent against the Witch-king, having adopted a portion of their makers' loathing for a particular enemy. And there is indeed evidence enough for this: the first spider Bilbo encounters in Mirkwood "evidently was not used to things that carried such stings at their sides, or it would have hurried away quicker." This spider lived not too far from the Elvenking's halls, surely it had been attacked with weapons before, which does call up an idea of there being something especially terrible to it about this particular sword. (Though this spider is also inarguably quite inept and possibly stupid; no shade to Bilbo but losing a fight to a mostly-tied-up enemy that can't see in the dark and has never before fought anything more dangerous than a particularly stubborn door-to-door salesman doesn't exactly reflect well on its capabilities.)
But I think Sting had another enchantment on it, and one a great deal more recent, and possibly even more direct: the enchantment of its name.
Bilbo takes a sword from a troll-hoard, puts it on his belt and under his jacket, and then proceeds to carry it around for months without thinking about it at all -- until, that is, he finds himself face to face with a giant spider, a giant spider who, as is made clear in the text, was one of Shelob's own descendants: "Far and wide her lesser broods, bastards of the miserable mates, her own offspring, that she slew, spread from glen to glen, from the Ephel Duath to the eastern hills, to Dol Guldur and the fastnesses of Mirkwood (emphasis mine)."
So Bilbo takes his sword and makes his first kill, and what we witness next is a Moment by any definition: "Somehow the killing of the giant spider, all alone by himself in the dark without the help of the wizard or the dwarves of of anyone else, made a great difference to Mr Baggins. He felt a different person, and much fiercer and bolder in spite of an empty stomach, as he wiped his sword on the grass and put it back into its sheath."
Then Bilbo names the sword, and he names it Sting, calling to mind the thought of a fly that can fight off a spider, a tiny creature coming out on top in a fight with a fierce predator. And then he sets off and uses his newly minted sword to rescue his friends from giant spiders. And though he uses the sword again in his adventure, it is never such a great moment, and indeed he ends up missing a great deal of the battle where it would have been most useful, leaving this incident with the spiders as not only his first use of the weapon, but his most significant -- as The Hobbit is meant to be adapted from his memoirs, certainly the only one he felt important enough to write about.
And for sixty years Sting laid quiet in the Shire, hanging over Bilbo's mantle, where he told stories about it to his nieces and nephews and cousins and anyone else who would listen, and doubtless the story he kept circling back to was the one about the great spiders and the christening of his sword, and even if nobody believed it, a bit of a legend grew about it, and whatever deeds, if any, it was involved in before it found its way to the troll's hoard were forgotten, and it became the Sting, the sword that was used to defend friends from Shelob's brood.
I hardly need to point out the power inherent in names and the naming of things and people in Tolkien's work.
And then, seventy-eight years after its christening, Sting finds itself in another spider's lair, the grandmother or great-grandmother of that first spider that earned it its name -- and this is what it is, now. This is its entire identity, insomuch as a sword can have one of those. I think that over seventy-eight years Bilbo quite inadvertently but also quite effectively wove an enchantment against Shelob and her ilk on that sword, never knowing how much it would matter in the end. Indeed, I would put forth that there was no other weapon in contemporary Middle-earth that would have been such a bitter sting to Shelob; similar enchantments, perhaps, could be found in Thranduil's halls from his people's long struggle against the spiders there, but on a blade from Gondolin, which shared a mountain range with the land where Ungoliant herself lived for a time? And Glamdring and Orcrist would have inherited those properties alongside Sting, but they had a legacy of goblin slaying, not spider slaying.
So, quite by accident, Frodo and Sam walked into Shelob's lair with the best possible chance of escaping her.
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