TTWW

THE MUCH ANTICIPATED SEQUEL TO TERRIFYING TOLKIEN WEEK!

OFFICIAL TAG: #terrifying tolkien

ATTENTION TOLKIEN FANS: , we will be having Terrifying Tolkien Week 2, a week  dedicated to all things Tolkien and terrifying! It will be occurring October 24th-31th.

You are not obligated to follow these prompts! They’re just to help get the creative juices flowing! :)

MAKE SURE TO TAG ALL YOUR POSTS WITH WARNINGS SO THOSE THAT ARE RIGGERED CAN AVOID THEM!

if horror isn’t your thing, block the tags #terrifying tolkien week and #ttw.

make sure to tag for: body horror, cannibalism, blood & gore, torture, noncon, and other potential triggers. trigger format is #____ tw. so to tag for torture would be #torture tw

WRITING PROMPTS #ttww (terrifying tolkien week writing)

1; a darker history
2; one au/prompt
3; memento mori
4; “be quiet.”
5; gold sickness.
6; 
7; scratches on the walls

GRAPHIC/GIF/EDIT PROMPTS #ttwg

1; one species
2; one location
3; one
4; one quote
5; one au
6; another location
7; one scene

ART PROMPTS #ttwa 

1; alternative concept of a character/place/etc.
2; mausoleum
3; one au/prompt
4; danse macabre
5; “the same hands i crushed to keep from death”
6; ghost
7; that which follows (echoes echoes echoes)

if you have your own prompts, post them and tag them #ttwprompt to my blog (or others that are participating!)

we must not look at goblin men

Written for terrifying tolkien week. I have a fondness for tolkien’s elves mixed with traditional faerie lore, which in itself is pretty spooky. So here’s some creepy fey Thranduil and a very unfortunate Bargeman. No warnings.

The water rocks his boat, as if hands from beneath the rippling current are tugging it down. The water is dark, unknowable. It isn’t the water that worries him. Bard’s eyes turn to the forest, branch and root and shrub spilling over the banks, reaching, always reaching.

Sometimes he passes a gap in the trees, a sliver of darkness among all the green. There’s something about its size and shape, as if, if he were to walk that path, the gap would be the exact size of his body. I could moor the boat to that tree and clamber up the bank, he thinks. I could slip between those trees and run down the path, run to— He isn’t sure where these thoughts come from, or where they lead. He shakes them off, fingers grasping at something beneath the collar of his shirt, and steers far away from the banks when those gaps in the trees appear.

His grandmother told him stories of this place: you must walk backwards into the forest if you ever wish to find your way out again. Never stray near the forest’s edge without a piece of cold iron about you. Carry salt, or certain herbs, and never speak your name aloud. The river, with its running water, would protect you. They cannot cross it.

She was always evasive when Bard would press the issue. Who are ‘they’, Gran? he would tease, only playing at wanting to know.

But she would take his needling seriously, pulling him close by his thin shoulders and staring into his eyes with the look of a hungry hawk. You best hope you never find out, boy.

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OFFICIAL TAG: #terrifying tolkien 

ATTENTION TOLKIEN FANS: As you know, we will be having Terrifying Tolkien Week, a week  dedicated to all things Tolkien and terrifying! It will be occuring August 1st-7th. 

You are not obligated to follow these prompts! They’re just to help get the creative juices flowing! :)

MAKE SURE TO TAG ALL YOUR POSTS WITH WARNINGS SO THOSE THAT ARE RIGGERED CAN AVOID THEM!

if horror isn’t your thing, block the tags #terrifying tolkien week and #ttw.

make sure to tag for: body horror, cannibalism, blood & gore, torture, noncon, and other things that might trigger others. 

WRITING PROMPTS #ttww (terrifying tolkien week writing)

1; a somniloquy
2; one au/prompt 
3; “half-dead, half-sleeping”
4; another au/prompt
5; an elegy
6; revival
7; “we were here”

GRAPHIC/GIF/EDIT PROMPTS #ttwg (terrifying tolkien week graphic/gif)

1; one species
2; one location
3; one 
4; one quote
5; one au
6; another location
7; one scene

edit 7/31: ART PROMPTS 

1; alternative concept of a character/place/etc.
2; a piece emphasising the shadows
3; one au/prompt
4; danse macabre
5; “the same hands i crushed to keep from death”
6; walking echoes
7; half mad

The Trouble with Wenches //Closed with readbetweenthecards//

“I am not blind to what you do for your family, Cicero. Whether I see it or not it makes no difference.” She gave out a long and loud sigh. She did not need to be upset with him. She knew full well what he said was the truth.

She was exhausted, and scared for her own life at that moment.

“I… I am sorry. I have just been under stress. Seeing that just… I am sorry.”

“Cicero knows that, but he always believed you wished NOT to see or be involved in any of it. And frankly, I would rather you not, it is much safer for you.”

At her apology, he slowly closed the distance between them and gently lifted her face to look at him. “If anyone must apologize, it is me, not you. You did nothing wrong, darling, and Cicero hates that you had to see that. And he is sorry,” he repeated again. “I never wished to hurt you.”

“But what is it that has been stressing you so?” His own troubles faded in lieu of her own. She was his priority.

there are some hurts that go too deep; that have taken hold.

It is the shield-arm that is maimed; but the chief evil comes through the sword-arm. In that there now seems no life, although it is unbroken.

Written for terrifying tolkien week. Contains hallucinations and self-mutilation. Sorry Eowyn.

There are no dreams. Above all, it is never a dream.

She keeps a vial of athelas with her at all times, and at the worst moment she uncaps it with practiced fingers to crush a leaf under her nose. It’s so little, but it helps. All she has left are the little things.

Sometimes her body gets so cold she thinks she will shatter by moving. The dull, bone-deep ache in her shield arm returns, familiar and manageable. That wound she can bear.

“My arm is not alive.” She speaks aloud to the darkness as her husband sleeps beside her. She hasn’t been sleeping. Not for a long time.

Faramir wakes at the sound of her voice, blinking but quickly alert. It’s a skill he needed, one which kept him alive. Now it has become yet another scar. He looks from her eyes to the pale hand resting on the bedcovers, folded as neatly. “What are you saying?”

“It’s dead,” she tries again. “The flesh, it isn’t mine. It went cold the day that I—that day.”

Faramir takes her hand in his, and he kisses her fingers, her palm, her veins. “It’s only the night’s chill,” he murmurs into your skin. “I can feel your warmth. Your pulse.”

It’s not my pulse, she wants to say. There’s something else moving inside me.

She draws the hand away.

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A TWITTER TREND FOR JCAP'S BDAY

GUYS STOP SCROLLING AND READ THIS, IT’S FOR JCAP STOP SCROOLLIINNNNGG AND READ! Thank you :] So yeah, JCap’s birthday is tomorrow, the 9th of August and Gwen (her tumblr here) and I have decided to try to trend worldwilde “Happy Birthday JCap” for her at 10pm GMT, 11pm GMT+1 (UK), midnight (12am) GMT+2 (France, Belgium, Switzerland, Spain, Germany, The Netherlands, etc…), 3pm West Coast time, and 6pm East Coast time. We’ll do it during like 2hours, so please be here, for JCap! Also, reblog this post so as many JCappers as possible can see this and help us! (Also tweet this twitlonger here). Thank you!

Love to y'all, Gwen & Mia.

and a thousand thousand slimy things lived on; and so did I.

“He would never again return to his golden bed, but was stretched cold as stone, twisted upon the floor of the shallows. There for ages his huge bones could be seen in calm weather among the ruined piles of the old town. But few dared to cross that cursed spot, and none dared to dive into the shivering water or recover the precious stones that fell from his rotting carcase.” –The Hobbit

Written for terrifying tolkien week. Contains elements of PTSD, fear of drowning, general creep factor.

The Lake at night is still, dark, and dead.

There are fish that move within its water, ancient but not wise, and never at peace. Their gills twitch and pulse far beneath the surface, unceasing, and Bard feels his skin prickle with the motions like an echo. He’s caught a fish like that before, watched it heave and writhe on the deck of his barge as the weight of its body betrayed it. He fed it to his family. He had wondered what they ate. Now, he imagines they are still working to pick clean the carcass that lays on the lakebed beneath them. He would never eat of their meat, not now.  

He dreams of it still. Not of fire, and falling, but of water. Of the sudden shock of hitting the surface, and his son’s body nearby (but not close enough, he was lost, he was drowning, where was Bain); but mostly of the dragon. He was sinking down into the depths, and Smaug was sinking with him, a single golden eye drawing nearer and nearer as they reached the bottom.

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Koi No Yokan こい の よかん (Japanese)

The sense one can have upon first meeting a person that the two of you are going to fall in love. Differs from “love at first sight” as it does not imply that the feeling of love exists, only the knowledge that a future love is inevitable.

Hurrying forward again, Sam tripped, catching his foot in some old root or tussock. He fell and came heavily on his hands, which sank deep into sticky ooze, so that his face was brought close to the surface of the dark mere. There was a faint hiss, a noisome smell went up, the lights flickered and danced and swirled. For a moment the water below him looked like some window, glazed with grimy glass, through which he was peering. Wrenching his hands out of the bog, he sprang back with a cry. ‘There are dead things, dead faces in the water,’ he said with horror. 'Dead faces! ’
Gollum laughed. 'The Dead Marshes, yes, yes: that is their names,’ he cackled. `You should not look in when the candles are lit.’
—  the passage of the marshes