#the more i sit and think about book!Faramir the less i like him actually | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fangirl-erdariel · 2 months

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If you were given the job of 'showrunner of a show about Faramir' what would you do?

Oh that's a fascinating question, thank you! I will freely admit that I don't necessarily consider myself the most knowledgeable person about Faramir or the best at writing him even in my immediate fandom circle, so this is unlikely to be anything particularly groundbreaking or interesting, but I'll give it a shot

I think, since you've not given me specific limitations on when in the timeline this will be set, and that I would go for a show that focuses on Faramir in the months leading up to Boromir leaving for Rivendell, ending with that event. Not that a show about him in the times after the War of the Ring wouldn't be fascinating, but I don't think it's something I'd be very good at writing. And I'm not necessarily interested in following the story through the events of LOTR, either. So, like I said, following Faramir in the times leading up to the event that basically ties him and Boromir so tightly into the events of the story.

Wouldn't be a very long show, obviously, with that sort of time frame, but I'm a firm believer in deciding on the limits of the story you want to tell and narrowing it down to something you can manage, before starting to tell it. (Let's ignore the fact that I don't actually do that irl when I write fanfic, I just sit down and write and see what happens; the imaginary me who is a showrunner of a tv show is obviously more organized than the real life me anyway.) Not everything needs to be ten seasons long. And you could still get a full-length season or two out of even that premise, I think.

I would probably go for a somewhat episodic problem-of-the-week format, but with some overarching themes and plotlines developing across the whole show. I can't off the top of my head give you a list of episodes or their synopsis (how do you pluralize that? synopsis? synopses? synopsises? why is English so difficult), but, you know, most episodes probably focusing on the various troubles of leading the soldiers in Ithilien, one episode focused on the planning of an attack on an enemy troop that will be moving through, another of "how the f*ck has the enemy been managing to constantly mess with our supply lines that we thought were secure and how do we stop them from doing that", maybe one of the classic "there's a spy among our midst but who is it??" plot, one where Faramir has to handle a bunch of young inexperienced soldiers who are either uncertain or too reckless and eager to pursue glory and probably going to get either themselves or other people killed if he can't get them to get their act together. And so on and so forth, I'm sure you get the gist. Probably mix it up sometimes and have some episodes set in Minas Tirith, maybe a couple bringing Faramir on some errand to more southern parts of Gondor, too. Ithilien episodes would probably have elements of military drama, Minas Tirith episodes elements of political drama.

I think the second-to-last episode of the show would have the first time Faramir has the dream that'll send Boromir to Gondor, and would have the attack on Osgiliath and that whole thing. And the absolute last episode would be just focused on the dream and what to do about it, and would see Boromir leaving on his journey.

I think one thing I'd explore a lot would be the differing ways that other characters see him. Both in terms of the relationships with his family, the way that he is a beloved little brother to Boromir but always the less capable and worthy in Denethor's eyes, but also in terms of outside that family circle. Like, we see in the books that he is adored by the people, and that he is greatly respected by the soldiers under his command, he is a captain they are glad to follow, a skilled leader who is able to keep troops from panicking and retain good order even in difficult, chaotic situations.

And then, going off of that, how does all that compare to the way Faramir sees himself? How does the place he is appointed by those around him fit, or not fit, what he himself would want to be, if he could choose? Even people who love or admire you can still view you in ways that aren't entirely true, or treat you in a way or put you in situations that you find constraining or poorly fit for you, and I think playing with that with Faramir could be interesting. I think I might go for making one of the conflicts carried through the show be that while Boromir loves Faramir, he doesn't always quite treat him as a responsible adult and an equal, but a little brother to be protected and watched over and helped, and for all that Faramir also loves Boromir, it's still frustrating. And though Boromir does insist on being the one to make the journey to Rivendell because he's older and stronger and doesn't like the idea of Faramir going off alone on a long journey to the unknown, it is still in some ways also an admission on his part that he trusts Faramir to be responsible and clever and capable enough to be in charge of the lives of soldiers and of various duties Boromir has that will fall on Faramir in his absence, without Boromir's constant oversight and being always somewhere near enough to come to his aid.

Besides that, I think I would like to incorporate hope and despair as one central theme, seeing as it's also so very central to LOTR. Also, this isn't anything about deep themes or being clever or whatever, it's really just self-indulgence, but I think I'd like to incorporate songs and poetry the characters actually sing and recite into the story. Just, like, whatever, military marches, funeral laments, narrative stuff sung to pass the time, people competing on who can most accurately memorize some tricky poem just for the hell of it, all that. Like, Middle-Earth just has music so intrinsically bound into the stories and it's an aspect of the books I really love, but so few adaptations incorporate it much at all! (I am tooootally not jealous to my mom because she got to see the 1988/-89 LOTR play that actually included a bunch of the poems from the books set to music, totally not, why are you asking)

Also, can we cast Luke Pasqualino as Faramir? No particular reason except that I think he's pretty

Geez, that got long ':D Idk how much sense any of that makes, but, hey, thanks for giving me an excuse to ramble!!

Out of curiosity, if you were given the same job of being a showrunner for a show about Faramir, what would you do with it?

#answered ask #cycas #faramir #lotr #lord of the rings #middle-earth #headcanons #meta #honestly idk if this fits either of those last two tags but idk what else to tag it either

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ruby-red-inky-blue · 2 years

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a few thoughts on finally rereading Return of the King:

- gotta say, while I was enjoying myself much more than the first time around, it doesn’t hold a candle to rereading Two Towers for me

- still, everything about the Ride of the Rohirrim and Théoden and Éowyn and Éomer on the Pelennor Fields is FIRE and very nearly made me cry in public multiple times

- "Live now in blessedness; and when you sit in peace with your pipe, think of me! For never now shall I sit with you in Meduseld, as I promised, or listen to your herb-lore.”

"Smoke, then, and think of him!" said Aragorn. "For he was a gentle heart and a great king and kept his oaths; and he rose out of the shadows to a last fair morning.”

(”Éowyn, dearer than daughter” -)

- shoutout to Bernard Hill for what may be the definitive example of bringing the spirit of a character to life on screen. His performance is criminally underrated.

- the Houses of Healing chapter is a comedy. Everything from the loquatious herb master who is also a linguistics enthusiast (and possibly a bit of a humorous self-insert??) to Ioreth who ALSO cannot shut up to Gimli being the local design critic (”if I could get my guys down here we could turn this little hamlet into something to be proud of” sir you are talking about these people’s capital) to Aragorn giving Merry a dressing down about “losing his pack on the battlefield” while making full eye contact with said pack by his bedside is incredibly funny

- i still adore the sudden turn towards romance the book takes for a single chapter with Faramir and Éowyn, but much as I love almost every word of it, I really don’t like how after their kiss he marches her to the healer and says “I bring you the lady Éowyn who is now healed” because. So much about Éowyn is how it *isn’t* just about having a man to love. Like he isn’t even wrong but I just hate that he phrases it like that. John you were doing so well.

- the shenanigans in the Shire are probably really interesting to some people. I could frankly do without them. Much like the movie, this book just *refuses* to end for a while.

- that said, “I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved. but not for me” is still the rawest thing i’ve ever heard or read. (”When things are in danger, someone has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them. But you are my heir. Everything I had, and might have had, I leave to you.” !!!!) And that one line about how Sam “will read things out of the Red Book and keep alive the memory of the age that is gone so that people will remember the great danger and so love their beloved land all the more” is so important to me, and the description of the Grey Havens gives me chills every time it’s so good.

- extremely unexpected ace rep in the appendix on the dwarves: “The number of dwarf men that marry is actually less than one third for not all the women take husbands. Some desire none, some desire one that they cannot get, and so will have no other. As for the men, very many also do not desire marriage, being engrossed in their crafts.”

#lord of the rings #jrr tolkien #and yes i did finish 77 percent of this book in the span of two days because i have to return the audiobook #(listening to the thing on 1.75 speed probably did not help the slightly rushed nature of the Faramir/Éowyn story i know)#quote #carrie reads

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spaceorphan18 · 1 year

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I really want to know who your favourite LOTR characters are! I saw an ask about Silmarillion that said you've already answered this before but I tried searching your blog and couldn't find it

Oh hello! Usually my tag is LOTR for this stuff, but I may have forgotten to tag things.

Anyway... my favorite LOTR Characters!

Bilbo Baggins

This is probably more due to the Hobbit, which I did read before LOTR. But I've always thought of him as my fictional kindred spirit. He's grumpy and tired and really wants to be left alone so he can write his book. And the only way you'll get him to do anything is show up with 13 dwarves and a wizard to kick him out the door.

Btw - Martin Freeman was a perfect casting for this role. I'm sad the Hobbit films weren't better ones, because Freeman embodies him perfectly.

Gandalf

Look, I love Wizards. Love. Them. Maybe it's the aesthetic? Maybe it's the idea of some old, frail looking dude being able to kick your butt with ancient magic? Maybe it's the fact that they're the ones who always know the mythology? I don't know. But one of the reasons I love LOTR is for the wizards, and Gandalf is one of the greatest. Plus, he's grumpy and too old for this shit and really would rather just sit back and enjoy the Hobbit nonsense if he could.

Also - another perfect casting choice here with Ian McKellen.

Pippin

I really love the Hobbits in general, but Pippin is my favorite. I think in both the book and the movies he gets some really great material - he's not as comical in the book, but he does bring levity to the story in both. Plus, his story arc showcases how someone so small can be beneficial to the overall story and he gets to hang out with Gandalf a ton.

Aragorn

I mean, look at this sexy dude. ;) I think this is one of those instances where the movies gave a lot more complexity to a character who was more of an archetype in the book. But I think I just kind of love the gruff, gritty guy who is actually an heir to royalty but really isn't in it for that trope.

Legolas

I'm really fond of the Elves in general - and their mythology is one of the hearts of the book. But in the movies, let's be real, it's mostly aesthetic. ;) Also - the fact that there are so many great memes. Lol

Frodo & Sam

Okay, I originally just had Sam on here - Sam is the literal heart of the whole story, and has one of the best arcs in the whole book. It's really his story, and I absolutely adore him.

I'm including Frodo here, though because in the movies, he and Sam have one of my favorite dynamics. In the books, Frodo and Sam have a very strictly master-companion relationship, it grows into a very strong bond, but there is that level of class that always stays between them. To make it more modern (and I'd say more American - but this is a New Zealand film) they eased up on the class stuff and made it a really strong friendship. I'd even go as far to say that this is perhaps the best 'romance' of the movies. (I don't even mean that in a sexual way - but that their love and connection is very deep and isn't played up for laughs in the same way as Merry and Pippin or Legolas and Gimli.)

Faramir

Honestly, I think he's a character I enjoy a lot in the movies, and maybe less so in the books. He doesn't have much of a personality in the books - and I'm okay with the movies trying to give him a better character arc. But idk, I've always liked him - maybe because he gets to pal around with Pippin while they're both stuck in Minas Tirith.

Eowyn

It's really sad that I only have one woman on this list but at least she gets to be badass and gets to do cool things.

****

In case you're wondering about some characters not on this list...

Merry - Poor Merry gets the shaft. But he is the weakest developed of the four main hobbits. His friendship with Pippin is great though.

Gimli - Okay, people don't hate me, I've never been all that into the Dwarven cultures. :/

Gollum - Look, I realize he's, like, the favorite of everyone, the most morally complex, and Andy Serkis should have gotten a damn Oscar for that role, but I just don't like him. Sorry.

Saruman - I really don't think he gets to do all that much in either book or movie. He has some interesting backstory stuff going on, but he's a little generic in the main story.

Boromir - Tolkien doesn't have a lot of morally gray characters in his books, so it's great when we get to see him. But for me, I'm meh on him even if I recognize that he is a good character.

Elrond and Galadriel - Both of whom have better stories elsewhere in Tolkien's mythology.

Arwen - Ug, she's not a character in the books, and barely a character in the films.

Sauron - You know, he's a great character in pre-third age related things. But he's used only as a dark menace here, so I feel, despite being the main antagonist, you don't get a full sense of him and he's not much of a character in LotR.

Okay, did I miss anyone? Despite there being a million characters in these books -- there really aren't that many characters that play an active role.

#lotr #lord of the rings #thank you for asking!#i love talking about lotr!

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carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 5 years

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Chapter 13 is up! We’re nearing the close of this fic. Just a bit left to go. I’m going to miss writing this one.

Chapter 13

Simon

No one’s in the kitchen by the time we get downstairs. I can hear the little ‘uns voices down the hall.

Baz rummages around in the refrigerator then pulls out a few sealed containers of food.

It’s a bit surreal watching Baz make me a roast beef sandwich in the Pitch Manor kitchen. Not a sight I ever expected to see but it’s certainly a welcome one.

He’s put all sorts of left-overs on my plate. His has considerably less food on it than mine. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

He points at his plate. “I am eating.”

I frown. “Not much.”

Baz frowns back at me then reaches over to dump a little more chestnut stuffing on his plate.

“That’s it?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m saving room for dessert.”

“That sweet tooth of yours.”

“I happen to be partial to trifle.”

“I’d not say no to some of that sticky toffee pudding.” Mrs. Grimm’s sticky toffee pudding was heavenly.

“Then you’d be out of luck.”

“What? It’s not all finished, is it? I swear there was some on the platter when we cleared the dishes last night.”

The tips of his ears flush. He’s not meeting my eyes. “Baz?”

“Oh, shut up, you nightmare. I came down and polished it off after you went to bed.” He gives me a pointed look. “The first time you went to bed.”

“You jammy bastard. I was looking forward to some more of that.”

“You can have trifle.”

It’s ridiculous really, that we’re bickering about sweets. I can’t help but grin. We sound like we used to, back when we roomed together, squabbling familiarly but with none of the bitterness.

I love it.

We sit at the kitchen table, side by side, legs rubbing and arms bumping. It’s cozy. It’s domestic.

It’s fucking perfect.

And that’s when the ache in my chest at the thought of him leaving in a week hits me again. I can’t help it. It gets me every time. I’ve put up a good front, but five months does sound daunting when you think about it.

I suppose we’ve been apart five years so what’s five months compared to that?

It helps to think of it that way, if only a little.

Baz and I demolish what’s left of the trifle, both leaning over the dish, spoons dueling for the best bites.

I carry the dishes to the sink and do the washing up while Baz dries. I’m going to think back on this moment when I’m alone in my flat, and that thought is almost unbearable.

“So. Shall we search out the hellions and devote the afternoon to board games or is there something else you’d rather do?” Baz is leaning against the counter, one eyebrow arched in question.

I can think of an entire list of things I’d like to do with him and none of them involve the kind of games he’s talking about.

Baz clears his throat and flushes again. “I meant down here. We should at least put in an appearance?”

My face flames in response. “Yeah, uh, yes, of course.” How bad can games with his siblings be?

Horrifically bad, it turns out. These children are all as insanely competitive as Baz, even Magnus, and he’s only seven.

They thrash me at Scrabble. I thought it would be better if we split into teams. That was my first mistake. Mordelia paired up with Acantha, Baz with Magnus, and Ophelia got me. I’m sure she regrets it. She’s the only reason we even got one triple word score. The disgust on her face when all I could eke out on the last go-around was “BAT” is uncannily similar to the look Baz used to sport whenever he’d walk by my clothes hamper at school (I run hot) (can’t be helped if my laundry gets a little ripe) (I still tend to wait until I’m down to the dregs of my closet before I do the wash).

He’s not sneering at me this time though. He’s fucking smirking at the board as he adds a “WOM” to my word and seals his victory in the game. Wanker.

Scrabble over, they drag me into a game of Lord of the Rings Trivial Pursuit which ends up being even more of a bloodbath for me, as we’re all on our own for this one. It’s not like I haven’t seen the movies. I have. I like them well enough but there’s no way I know what bloody color hood Faramir placed on Gollum’s sodding head by the Forbidden Pool. It’s all rot.

I lose again. Even Magnus does better than I do.

I feel the touch of Baz’s hand on my arm. He’s rubbing my forearm, stroking up and down gently. It’s soothing. I like it. He can keep doing that all day, as far as I’m concerned.

“Had enough of the minions?” Baz says it softly, for my ears only. Said minions are all crouched in a corner of the room, quarrelling over which game to torture me with next.

They rise in triumph, Magnus brandishing a Monopoly box at us. Bloody hell. Anything but that.

I’m on my feet in an instant. Baz stifles a snort but stands up with me, fingers searching mine out. He shakes his head at his siblings. “You can play amongst yourselves for a bit, you horrors. I’m going to give Simon a tour of the house.”

“More likely a tour of your tonsils,” Mordelia says, just loud enough for us to hear. She gives Baz a wicked grin and then winks at me. She’s incorrigible, truly. This girl is going to give Fiona a run for her money before long.

It’s a terrifying thought.

Baz gives her a withering look. “And what would you know about that?”

“Looked like you were giving it a go last night.” She smirks right back at him and Baz wisely chooses to beat a hasty retreat, before the younger ones get involved in this conversation.

We escape to the hallway. “Are you really giving me a tour of the house?”

“Do you truly want one?”

“Well, Mordelia’s option is quite tempting but I am curious about this Gothic mansion of yours.”

“I told you, it’s Victorian.”

I grin at him. “I know.”

“Nightmare.” He pulls me along the hallway.

Baz’s house is fucking absurd. There’s a gallery filled to the brim with portraits of deceased Pitch relatives. It’s a little unsettling having a whole room of them sneering at me.

There’s a green room and a red room (Baz’s lurid bedroom isn’t even the actual “red room”) (You should see that one) (it’s straight out of a horror movie). Then there’s Fiona’s room but Baz says it’s just a shrine to dark wave music and manky 80’s posters.

It is.

Mine’s the blue room so we skip that and head to the library. It’s massive. Heavy, dark furniture, large windows, a fireplace at the far end, and shelves and shelves of books. Leather bound books. Ancient looking tomes. I’d not be surprised to find an original copy of the fucking Magna Carta in here.

We don’t find that but we do find Mr. Grimm. He’s seated in an armchair at the back of the room, near the fire, reading a book. Baz gets his widows peak from him.

“Ah, Basilton. Simon.” Mr. Grimm gives us a nod.

“Just giving Simon a tour of the house, Father.”

“You’ve shown him the dungeon then?”

My eyes widen. I hadn’t quite expected the house to be that cliché, but it is Pitch Manor. I suppose they could have a dungeon here. The idea makes the hair on my neck stand up.

Baz gives his father a rather feral smile. “Thought I’d save that for the end.”

I look from one to the other.

Mr. Grimm doesn’t last long. His lips curve up. “Simon, you should see your face.”

Baz is laughing too.

“What?” I’m still looking back and forth between them, not sure of the joke.

Baz huffs at me. “You absolute numpty, there is no dungeon. It’s just a wine cellar, a storage area, and a fair amount of dust and spiders.”

Mr. Grimm still looks amused. “We were just having you on, Simon. No dungeons here.” He darts a glance at Baz and smooths his features. “But I make no promises about the estate in Scotland.”

I swear he winks, but it’s so fast I’m not sure it actually happened.

I’ve got no idea what to think. “You’ve got an estate in Scotland?” is what manages to come out of my mouth.

“Yes. It’s been in my family for generations.” Mr. Grimm nods in my direction. “We go there in the summers.” His eyes dart to Baz and they hold each other’s gaze for a long moment, Mr. Grimm’s aspect taking on that fond look I’ve glimpsed on Baz lately. “You should bring Simon, when you come home for your summer holiday, Basilton.”

I can feel Baz shift position next to me, see the relaxing of his posture. He fingers brush against mine. “Sounds like a splendid idea.”

Baz

I do end up snogging Simon in the wine cellar. It’s cold but it’s also far more private than any other place in the house. Far less chance of Mordelia sneaking up on us here.

I’ve got him pushed up against one of the stone walls, hands on his hips. We’re pressed together and the heat of him seeps through his clothes to warm me.

It’s doing quite a bit more to me than simply warming me up. I shift position, angling my hips slightly away from him.

One of Simon’s hands is in my hair and the other has slipped between the buttons of my shirt, to trace patterns of searing heat against my skin, just like this morning. I don’t want him to stop.

Eventually we do stop, because breathing is an unfortunate necessity.

I press my forehead to his. “I don’t want you to go.”

His eyes close. “I don’t want to go. But I’ve got to get back for work tomorrow.”

“You could stay tonight. I’ll drive you in the morning.” How can I sound so fucking needy?

Simon’s remarkable blue eyes meet mine. He pulls back to smirk at me. “I’d never be on time, if I stayed here with you.”

He’s probably right about that. I’d likely find every excuse to delay.

“You’ll come up to London later this week, yeah?”

“You couldn’t keep me away.” Fucking hell. The things that come out of my mouth when I’m with Simon. I’ve got no filter with him. I’ll be turning into fucking Fiona next, except spouting besotted romantic nonsense instead of bitter sarcasm and robust swearing.

“What’s the time, Baz?”

I pull back far enough to check my watch. “It’s almost six.”

Simon shakes his head. “I should head home. I’ve got wash to do before tomorrow and a day of activities to plan.”

His hands come to rest on my face as he tips his head up to kiss me. It’s a long few moments before we move apart again.

“You alright driving me home?”

“I told you I would. It’s that much more time I get to spend with you. Every moment counts.” It’s done. It’s over. Whatever filter I had left has been definitively annihilated by the all-consuming blaze of affection I have for this boy. I’m a disgrace to the Pitch name.

I don’t care.

I thought I’d lost him forever five years ago.

I don’t intend on losing him again.

Simon

It takes longer than I expected to say goodbye to Baz’s family. Mrs. Grimm hugs me and tells me she hopes I can visit again. Mr. Grimm gives me a firm handshake and reiterates his invitation for the summer.

Acantha and Ophelia give me hugs of their own, while Magnus demands a piggy-back ride down the long hallway upstairs before he’ll allow me out of his sight.

I oblige and end up red-faced and puffing by the time I get back downstairs. Baz just smirks at me, the prat.

There is one more farewell it seems. Mordelia tugs at my sleeve as we walk past her toward the front door.

I stop. She’s got her hands on her hips and she’s glaring at me. She’s literally a mini-Fiona. She leans forward and pokes one finger at my chest. “Don’t be a knobhead.”

“Mordelia, language.” Mrs. Grimm snaps.

Mordelia rolls her eyes. “Fine.” Her eyes meet mine. “You know what I mean, Snow.”

I think I do.

For all her put-on indifference she cares about Baz deeply. They’ve got a way of communicating in this family—a way that cloaks their affection with sharp commentary, bitter sarcasm and vague insinuations. They know how to read each other, under that veneer.

My work with sullen youngsters has given me a bit of insight on the undercurrent of deep emotion that can be concealed by such language. My recent time with Baz has made me rethink many of our past interactions.

I nod at her. “I’ll do my best.” I lean a little closer, words for her ears only. “It means that much to me too, you know.”

Her eyes widen. She nods back and the mask slips into place once again. I’m far more knowledgeable about that too, in hindsight.

I had years of seeing Baz do just that.

Baz

The closer we get to Simon’s flat the dodgier the neighbourhood looks. There’s a parking spot open just past his building and I pull into it. I wasn’t sure what I expected when we got here but I most certainly am not just dropping him off. I want a look around this place.

There’s a boarded-up shop just across the street, graffiti spray painted onto the brick and boards. As we walk to his building I take in the sight of rubbish piled up and around the bins. There’s a shape that scurries into the shadows as we approach that I am fairly certain is a rat.

One of the lights by the door to the building is burnt out.

“I’m on the third floor. Bit of a trek up the stairs.” Simon grins back at me as he bounds up the steps. “Can you manage that these days, Baz, with your desk job?”

There’s a challenge in his eyes. I may sit at a desk all day but I’m still in peak physical condition.

“I don’t think I was the one huffing and puffing while giving a small boy a short piggy back ride earlier today, Simon.”

“Whatever you say.” Then he races up the steps without another look back.

This is unacceptable. “You cheat!” I’m flying up the steps behind him.

He beats me, of course. He’s leaning against the door to what must be his flat when I reach the third floor. “Cheat.”

“Plodder.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Simon’s grinning as he unlocks the door. “You still can’t stand losing. Not even at the smallest things.”

“I didn’t lose. You cheated.”

I follow him into his flat. It’s dark and wretched. There are too few windows and the room is small, the paint on the walls a dingy grey.

Walls which are empty. No posters. No pictures. I take in the lumpy sofa, the single scuffed up coffee table, the slightly crooked floor lamp.

Simon flushes. “It’s not much, I know. Penny and I had a nicer flat but I couldn’t keep up with the rent without a roommate.” He jams his hands in his pockets. “I’d only ever lived in the care homes, with you at Watford, and then Penny. Thought it was time I lived on my own for a bit.” He shrugs. “It’s all I could really afford right now.” It’s such a familiar motion, one that I remember well. Shrugs are a form of conversation for Simon. This one tugs at my heart.

“Show me the rest of it then, since I’m here.”

There isn’t much to see. A tiny kitchen, barely room for the sink, refrigerator, and a chipped two burner and stove combination. A small microwave takes up most of the counterspace. The bathroom is miniscule. I’m not sure the door could close if someone was sat on the toilet.

His bedroom is the only place that actually looks inhabited. There’s a bright comforter on the rumpled bed. An obligatory Liverpool poster marking his football club affiliation is tacked up on the wall. Stacks of papers and books litter the small desk.

And photographs.

Simon and Bunce. Simon and Wellbelove. All three of them and a dark-haired, dark-eyed man with such perfectly even teeth that he can only be Bunce’s American fiancé.

I stop at a Watford photo. It’s the class picture we took right before the Leavers Ball. We’re all kitted out in our best, the girls in dresses, the boys all in suits.

I’m there in the back. On the far left. Just next to Dev and Niall.

I’m not looking at the camera though. This isn’t the same photo I have, where I’m exuding boredom, one eyebrow up in disdain.

In this one I’m looking across and down, towards the ruddy-faced, smiling vision of Simon in the front row, flanked by Bunce and Wellbelove.

He’s not looking at the camera either. He’s got an arm around each of the girls, but he’s looking over his shoulder at something, only part of his face visible.

I think he’s looking at me.

Shame wells up, threatening to choke me. I was such a fucking wanker. I could have had … I don’t rightly know what I could have had, but looking at this photograph makes me realize once again what an utter arse I was. How I could have made things better—for Simon, for me, for just about everyone in our class who had to deal with our animosity—but I was too fucking full of myself to do anything but sneer and snarl at the person I cared for most.

The person who might have cared for me too.

Simon’s hand comes to rest on my shoulder. “Baz?”

I swallow and blink at the picture. “I’ve … I’ve not seen this one before.”

Simon tilts his head and regards it. “Yeah, Dr. Wellbelove took that one. Agatha gave it to me. I’ve got the official school one somewhere around here, but I like this one better. It’s more candid. He snapped it just before Mrs. Possibelf shouted at us to face forward and stop messing around.” He grins at me. “This is more how we actually were, I think, than the prats we all look like in the other shot.” He nudges my shoulder. “Except for you, you look like a prat in all of them.”

His eyes meet mine and the grin fades. “You all right, Baz?”

“I’m fine.” I’m not, not really. I hate the neighborhood, I despise this manky flat of his, I feel wretched at the thought of him coming home to this grey place, to spend his nights alone here.

But most of all I hate the person I was in this photograph. The person who couldn’t be true to his feelings. The person who couldn’t find it in himself to be the least bit kind to the roommate he was foolishly, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with.

“Hey.” Simon’s turning me to face him. “What’re you thinking about? You’ve got this pinched, pissed off look and it’s worrying me.” He tentatively reaches a hand up to stroke my hair. “I’ve never liked that look on you. It doesn’t suit.”

I drop my gaze to the floor. I’m desperate to pull the mask back up, smooth my features, toss my head and look down my nose at him to convince him I’m fine.

This is your second chance, arsehole, I tell myself. Whatever you think you should do is probably the wrong answer.

I reach up to clasp his hand. I close my eyes. “It just reminded me of what an arsehole I was back then, that’s all.” I force myself to open my eyes and meet his gaze. “I don’t like remembering that, how I was to you.” Fuck it all. I’m done for as it is. I may as well keep going. “It makes me realize how lucky I am now and how close I came to fucking this up for all time.”

Simon’s fingers tighten in my hair. “But you didn’t fuck it up for all time, now did you?” His other hand comes up to brush my cheek. “You were a right arse. But I was too.”

He sighs. “I didn’t really understand how I felt about you until a few days ago. It came on me, like a ton of bricks, at Ebb’s. But the thoughts I had about you there, the things I noticed about you? None of those were new. I’d had them before.” He tilts his head at the photo. “I’d not let myself think about it. Back then. Took ‘til now to figure it all out.” Simon gives me a tentative smile. “You always said I was thick, Baz, and in this case you’ve the right of it. I was thick. About this. About us.” He steps closer. “Not anymore.”

The words wrench out of me. “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, Baz, if we’re going to start apologizing about every little thing we did to each other at Watford we’ll be here all night. It’s done. We’ve talked about it already. You were a wanker and I was a shit. We likely still are. And that’s ok.”

His thumb brushes over my cheekbone. “All that matters now is going forward, yeah? We’ve been shit to each other.” Simon’s brilliant grin is back. “Now we get to see how things are when we’re not.” His lips crash into mine, and I’m pulling him toward me, hands gripping his hips, fingers digging into him. The touch of him is electric, like sparks lighting at every point of contact.

My tongue traces his lips, slips between his parted ones to meet his, and I feel like I’ve had too much to drink; the feel, the scent, the touch of him, intoxicating me. I want to pull him closer, I want to fold him into my embrace, I want to throw back my head and laugh at the sheer joy of him.

I want to keep on kissing Simon forever.

Simon

We’re at my door now. Baz’s hands are running up and down my back. I’ve got my hands sunk into his hair because I can’t get enough of touching it. It’s soft and thick and it smells so good. I tug on his bottom lip with my teeth and he pulls me closer, until there is no space between us.

This is the longest goodbye I’ve ever experienced but I’m still not ready to let Baz go.

I need to. It’s late. He’s got a long drive back and I’ve got an early morning. The thought runs through my head to ask him to stay, but I push it away. I can’t ask Baz to spend the night. He’s just got back to his family, I can’t monopolize him like that.

I’m fairly certain I didn’t change the sheets before I left and almost sure the other set is crumpled up in my hamper. The bathroom’s nasty too. Can’t even remember when I cleaned it last.

There’s nothing for us to eat for breakfast.

I’m also not convinced it’s a good idea for him to have left the Jaguar parked outside for even this long, let alone overnight.

This is a shit neighborhood and a shit flat and I need to get Baz on his way home. I tear myself away from the warmth of his mouth.

“Hey. It’s late. I shouldn’t have kept you this long.”

“I don’t want to go.”

It’s so odd to hear him say things like that. I mean, he has, all these days, but it still brings me up short to hear him be so honest, so open about his feelings. I know it’s not easy for him, never has been I’m sure, but the fact that he’s trying says so much to me, means so much to me.

“I know. I don’t want you to go either but you’ve got a long drive and I’m a bit anxious about the Jag being parked out there.” I grimace. “It’s not unheard of for cars to get broken into around here.”

His expression becomes stern. “That isn’t making me feel any better about leaving, Simon.”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m fine. Everyone knows me around here. I’m not fussed about it.”

“You may not be, but I am.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ve lived here for over six months, Baz. It’s fine. Promise.” I poke him in the chest. “This is how most of London lives, you know. Not everyone has mansions with galleries and courtyards and dungeons.” I’m grinning at him now.

“There are no dungeons, I told you that.”

“Stop being so literal. You know what I mean, you posh twat.” I bring his face close to mine and kiss him on the nose. “Come on, now. Off with you. Text me what day is good for you this week. Any day is good for me.”

“I’ll call. Tomorrow.”

“I can’t answer between 9 and 4. I’ll be at the home and can’t talk while I’m there. But feel free to text, if that works.”

He nods, hands sliding down to grip both of mine tightly. “I’ll see you this week, then.”

I let go of one of his hands and open the door. I push him a bit, still holding his other hand in mine. “Go on then. Text me when you get home, so I know you’re alright, yeah?”

Baz kisses me one more time, open mouth and deep, like he’s inhaling the very sensation of me. When he does step back his eyes are a dark, turbulent grey, pupils wide. “I miss you already, you nightmare.” It’s said so tenderly, the insult at the end such an endearment in his voice now.

“I’ll miss you too, you tosser.” I say it back just as fondly.

Baz looks over his shoulder as he goes down the steps. I close the door when I can’t see him anymore.

And then, because I’m an absolute disaster, I dart across the room to the window, so I can watch him walk to his car. It seems to be alright. He lifts his head and gazes up at my building. I don’t know if he can see me, silhouetted in the narrow window, but I wave anyway. His hand comes up, then he slides into the driver’s seat, and I watch his car drive away.

Baz

I know what I want to do when I come back up to see Simon. I know exactly how we’re going to spend the time.

And it damn well won’t end with us at his flat, I can tell you that.

#carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #travel au #my writing #my fics

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mythopoeticreality · 6 years

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Maglooorrrrr

8D Yeees~ My favorite silm character! (though really between all of the Feanorians it’s so hard to choose xD)

favorite thing about them

The potential he has for kindness? The weird – though weary and tinged with bitterness – sense of hope he has even after all these years? Okay yes, he is a Fëanorian, there is no denying that, he has participated in the same kinslayings and can be characterized by that same haughtiness that his family is so well known for, but there *is* more to him than that? It’s no mistake that among the sections of the book that focus longest on Maglor are his adoption of Elrond and Elros, and the moment he and Maedhros first see Gil-Estel. The moments where he shows pity and compassion, or even wisdom gained after over 500 years of war. Honestly the same things that draw me to him are the same things that draw me to Faramir xD what can I say? I love nerdy intellectuals with hearts of gold xD

least favorite thing about them

Ohhh Maglor, why couldn’t you have a bit more backbone in standing up to Maedhros there at the end? *facepalms. siiiiiiighs*

favorite line

‘If it be truly the Silmaril which we saw cast into the sea that rises again by the power of the Valar, then let us be glad; for its glory is seen now by many, and is yet secure from all evil.’

Look at that! Look at the hope in that line, and the hard-gained wisdom! It’s just like, “look, see, now? The Silmarill has been rescued from the hands of the enemy and now sits in a place where all may lay claim to it (including us)” also, that’s a clever bit of playing with loopholes there Maglor. Very nice.

brOTP

Is it any surprise that my brotps for Maglor happen to be with his *literal* bros? xD I love the Fëanorians and the sense of loyalty there that is strung through the whole family. Maglor and Maedhros are *especially* good examples of this, and I love how much they come to depend on one another by the end. It’s very much an ‘us against the world’ dynamic between them and I *love* it.

My other brOTP for Maglor is actually something I haven’t seen nearly as much (though if any of y’all have some good fic recs for It I will utterly devour them! 8D), But I really like he and Caranthir as being pretty close. Maybe it’s just the idea of ‘music soothing the savage beast,’ maybe it is how starkly their personalities clash, or maybe it’s the idea of both of them feeling that they don’t measure up to their father’s expectations (Maglor in his chosen career path, Caranthir in his less obvious talents). I do think they’re the sorts to constantly be at one another’s throats, arguing and bickering often, not a single opportunity for razor-sharp sarcasm to be spared, but at the end of the day, they’re always the first ones to stick up for one another as well.

OTP

Maglor/Happiness, all the way! He can be with anyone he chooses, or even with no one at all, so long as he’s just…happy.

nOTP

Mostly anyone in his family, and that extends to cousins. Y’all do you of course, I’m just not much one for incest.

random headcanon

His Father was a linguist, He is a poet and has lived through thousand of years worth of watching languages grow and change.Weather it is in humor, sarcasm, or insult, Maglor is truely the master of the use of register and implication to say *exactly* what it is he means to say.

To put it in more modern context as an example: Imagine this guy going through road rage. He can go from shouting “Oi! Watch the Road ya Bloody Wanker!” out the window one moment, to casually turning to one of his brothers and speaking in beautifully eloquent High Quenya the next.

unpopular opinion

For the longest time, though he wanted to spare the twin’s lives and didn’t want to see any harm come to them, I don’t think Maglor was completely willing to take on the role of “Caretaker” for them. Both he and Maedhros preferred to view themselves as hostage-taker, it was…easier. There was too much guilt, both in the idea of replacing his own younger brothers, and in the constant reminder of what they had done that Elros and Elrond had ended up with them to begin with.

Eventually the distance that he tried to keep between them broke down and they began to grow closer, but from both ends things were a very rocky start

song i associate with them

Let your silence sing by Thoushaltnot

favorite picture of them

ohhh, that’s a tough one, I don’t think I have a *single* favorite pic, but this one is definitely up there.

#Maglor #the silmarillion #in which I do a meme #in which I talk to people #filmamir

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all-things-devours · 7 years

Text

"Gandalf is a shitty wizard."

"He barely uses magic at all! Dumbledore could totally kick his ass!"

I've seen people saying stuff like this pretty often, and I think it has a lot to do with the way the character is portrayed in the movies. Movie!Gandalf spends more time slicing up orcs with his sword or hitting them with his staff than he does throwing fireballs at them, which naturally leads the audience to wonder: "why doesn't he just use magic?"

In fact, in the books Gandalf is rarely shown engaging in combat without using some kind of magic -- typically fire magic. There are only a couple of occasions I can think of when he fights with his sword only; and he certainly never uses his staff as a melee weapon.

In The Hobbit Gandalf kills the goblins who try to grab him in the cave with "a terrific flash like lightning", and then rescues the captive Dwarves by making the goblins' fire shower them with "piercing white sparks". Later during the flight through the goblins' tunnels he does help Thorin drive off some pursuers using only Glamdring -- possibly he's used up his magic potency for the moment and/or doesn't have time to prepare another spell while in the midst of a hurried escape (but see also below). Later he drives away some pursuing wolves by throwing flaming pinecones at them. And the one mention of Gandalf during the Battle of Five Armies describes him "sitting on the ground as if in deep thought, preparing, I suppose, some last blast of magic before the end".

In Fellowship Gandalf again uses fire magic to fend off a pack of wolves (a scene not included in the movie). In the battle in the Chamber of Mazarbul, on the other hand, it's not mentioned that he used any magic (in fact Gandalf is not mentioned at all in the description of this battle, except to say that he drew his sword beforehand; but one must assume that he used it). Why doesn't he use magic here? Possibly he knows he'll have to stay and hold the passage behind the others as they flee, and is conserving his energy for this purpose; also -- as noted above -- Gandalf's magic is mostly fire-based, and requires fuel to work on. Both this scene and the escape through the goblin tunnels in The Hobbit are set in underground caverns where the availability of flammable material is limited.

But consider also this: in both of these sequences, Gandalf and his companions are crammed together in a small area, and it might well be difficult for him to unleash any real firepower without hitting one of his allies. Recall what ends up happening with those flaming pinecones in The Hobbit -- they work well enough against the wolves, but the goblins are clever enough to drive the flames back to the feet of the trees in which the company is sheltering. Now, starting a forest fire while hiding in a tree may not have been the best strategy Gandalf's ever come up with; but the point here is that he doesn't have total control over his own magic after he's unleashed it, and it can be turned against him -- which I'm sure is one reason why he's fairly cautious about when and where he uses it. Indeed, he only really seems to unleash his full power when he's alone -- e.g., when battling the Nazgûl on Weathertop ("such light and flame cannot have been seen on Weathertop since the war-beacons of old") or when fighting the Balrog atop Zirakzigil ("Those that looked from afar thought that the mountain was crowned with storm. Thunder they heard, and lightning, they said, smote upon Celebdil, and leaped back broken into tongues of fire"); both occasions when he didn't have any mortal allies nearby that he had to worry about protecting.

(If he does have to suppress his power most of the time to avoid hurting his friends, this would actually be pretty similar to the Valar's rationale for limiting their own direct interference in Middle-earth and its problems, just on a smaller scale. It seems the power possessed by the Ainur is generally of this nature: very great, but unpredictable and potentially dangerous even to those they intend to help.)

Movie!Gandalf comes across as more of a wimp partly because the films cut some of the scenes where he uses magic in the book; but also because they add a number of combat-focused scenes which were either not described in detail in the book or at which book!Gandalf was not present. In these scenes, they therefore had to make up stuff for Gandalf to do in battle, and the solution they hit on was the not-entirely-satisfactory "hitting orcs with his staff".

In particular, book!Gandalf is never depicted engaging in combat of any kind after his return from death. He revokes Saruman's authority simply by commanding his staff to break (after Saruman has already been materially "defeated" by the Rohirrim and the Ents). He drives the Nazgûl away with some kind of holy light (which Tolkien explicitly characterizes as non-violent in Letter #156 -- more on this below). At Minas Tirith he directs the troops from the battlements during the siege portion of the engagement, and is prepared to fight the Witch-king at the city gates; but before the confrontation can take place the Nazgûl-lord is distracted by the arrival of the Rohirrim and Gandalf is called away to rescue Faramir from being immolated by Denethor. Afterward he takes Faramir to the Houses of Healing and stays there tending to him, Éowyn and Merry for the rest of the battle. Unlike in the movie, he at no point directly engages with the enemy forces.

The one post-resurrection occasion on which he might have actually fought is at Helm's Deep: we're told that he led the charge of Erkenbrand's men and that their enemies "flew before him", but since the battle is pretty much over at that point we're not given any more detail. The movie, of course, shows him whacking at orcs with his staff (not even using his sword!); based on the book's vague description he might have fought using magic or simply repelled them with the terror of his presence as he does to the Nazgûl later on.

In short: though Gandalf the White is more powerful than Gandalf the Grey, the enhanced power he's been given is emphatically not of the "asskicking" variety. His original mission was to help and advise the free peoples of Middle-earth, and these are the tasks for which Eru equips him. He is given greater authority -- which allows him to demote and depower Saruman -- but his main abilities lie in healing and inspiring others. This is most overtly demonstrated of course in his healing of Théoden; but his presence also helps the men of Minas Tirith resist the terror of the Nazgûl during the siege ("Wherever he came men's hearts would lift again, and the winged shadows pass from memory"). And then he can drive the Nazgûl away entirely with a white light when they fly too close.

In Letter #210, Tolkien comments on the Nazgûl that: "Their peril is almost entirely due to the unreasoning fear which they inspire (like ghosts). They have no great physical power against the fearless [...]" In notes jotted down while writing The Two Towers, he says of Gandalf, after his return, that: "He has thus acquired something of the awe and terrible power of the Ring-wraiths, only on the good side. Evil things fly from him if he is revealed -- when he shines." (HoMe VII)

Gandalf the White is the Anti-Nazgûl. That is his main power and his main purpose. Where the Nazgûl inspire fear and despair in humans, Gandalf's presence inspires hope and courage. At the same time, he's able to inflict the Nazgûl with his own brand of supernatural terror.

I imagine this is why, after the Witch-king has been vanquished (and the Nazgûl are therefore no longer an immediate threat), Gandalf doesn't head out to the field to skewer some orcs but goes instead to the Houses of Healing to tend to the people suffering from the Black Breath: he knows it's where his hope/encouragement/Nazgûl-resistance power will be able to do the most good. He's not able to cure the sufferers, unfortunately (it takes Aragorn's special healing kingliness to do that), but apparently he's able to hold the deadly effects at bay long enough for Aragorn to get there.

So Gandalf the Grey's magic is powerful but unpredictable; while Gandalf the White's is less violent and more centered around healing and inspiring. Of course, he clearly is still capable of dealing damage should he need to. "And so am I, very dangerous: more dangerous than anything you will ever meet, unless you are brought alive before the seat of the Dark Lord." Gandalf isn't kidding around here: as noted above, his power if unchecked can indeed be dangerous to friends and foes alike, and I think that's no less true after his return. The difference is that now Eru has given him some powerful alternatives to force or violence, alternatives which he clearly prefers.

These new powers are certainly more useful than the old in supporting his other main role, the one which is ultimately his primary contribution to the war: that of chief strategist. Theoretically Gandalf could unleash some of his more dangerous magic if he had to; but by putting all his guile and ingenuity to use, and handling the resources he's been given skillfully enough, he manages to avoid the necessity. Tolkien puts it succinctly in Letter #156 when he notes that "[Gandalf] alone is left to forbid the entrance of the Lord of the Nazgûl to Minas Tirith, when the City has been overthrown and its Gates destroyed -- and yet so powerful is the whole train of human resistance, that he himself has kindled and organized, that in fact no battle between the two occurs: it passes to other mortal hands."

In the movies, of course, Gandalf is also reduced on this front because Aragorn must be established as the Secondary Protagonist and most of Gandalf's strategist role is therefore given to him instead.

Leaving Gandalf himself with not much to do but, well... whack orcs in the face with his staff.

#tolkien #gandalf #lotr #the hobbit #my meta

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