Tolkien in The Lord of the Rings: Frodo Baggins, derived from the Old English fród, meaning “wise by experience.” His name is Maura Labingi in Westron and Iorhael in Sindarin, a combination of the root words ior, meaning “old,” and hale, meaning “wise.”
Tolkien in The Hobbit: their names were Balin and Dwalin and Oin and Gloin and Dori and Nori and Ori and Fili and Kili and Bifur and Bombur and Bofur
I love how it’s canon that Yuuri and Victor are so inseparable that they build their lives around living together
I love how it’s canon that Victor was smitten with Yuuri and that all his closeness was him straight-up flirting
I love how it’s canon that Yuuri looked up to Victor since he was a kid and was such a fanboy that he had the latter’s face plastered all over his walls
I love how it’s canon that they exchanged rings which were later explicitly stated to be engagement rings
I love how it’s canon that Victor is constantly clinging to Yuuri even though he isn’t that touchy with anyone else
I love how it’s canon that Yuuri, who was explicitly stated to be uncomfortable with being emotionally vulnerable and needing hugs, opens up to being hugged and starts initiating hugs with Victor himself
I love how it’s canon that Yuuri and Victor prepared a pair skating routine with lifts and tender face touching and matching costumes and they performed it in front of the entire world while their rings were flashing
I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS SHOW AND THIS SHIP AND IT STILL MAKES ME CRY ON A REGULAR BASIS
Request: Hi! I love your writing! Could you please do a fluffy Phillipa Soo x fem!Reader?
Words: 679 (sorry it’s so short but I wrote the whole thing in an hour(also i added a sentence right before posting and before it was 666))
A/N: THIS WAS NOT WHAT I MEANT IT TO BE. I had a really good idea, but it would take longer than an hour and a half to write and for some reason I decided that I would post a fic by midnight (Amelia WHY.) So yeah I haven’t looked over this at all. But it’ll suck anyway so who cares?
It seemed like performances without Pippa lasted weeks instead of hours. You were a member of the Hamilton ensemble, one of the few opening cast members that hadn’t left. Your girlfriend made surprise appearances backstage every few weeks, always intimidating whoever was playing Eliza that night. Pippa had told you that tonight would be one of those sacred occasions, so as soon as you finished the finale you rushed backstage to look for her. You jogged through the hallways, traveling the path that you knew too well.
After high-fiving every crew member on your journey through the Richard Rogers, you found yourself at the stage door. No one you had passed had seen your girlfriend, and you were starting to get worried. You pulled out your phone and saw 3 missed calls from her. How could you not think to check your phone? Once you quickly dialed in her number you found that it went straight to voicemail. After checking that you were covered for the later show, you rushed through the crowd outside the stage door and caught a cab to the apartment you shared with Pippa. You ran up the cement stairs and fumbled with the keys as you tried to open the door. You didn’t know how, but you could tell something was seriously wrong.
You burst through the door, searching for her for the second time that night. It wasn’t long until you spotted her leaning over the sink, her dark hair hiding her face. You made your way over, and grabbed her shaking palm.
“What happened? Are you hurt?” you asked, scanning her to look for injuries. She looked at you, tears making her hair stick to her face.
“I-I lost it,” she whispered, voice cracking. One of the things you loved most about Phillipa was how strong she was. It was extremely rare to see the emotional side of her, one that was usually reserved for particularly meaningful performances. But you saw it in her then, her tearful eyes full of desperation.
“What did you lose, Pip?” You used your nickname for her, trying to comprehend the situation. It must of been something terrible to hurt her in such a ferocious manner, but in her state you couldn’t seem to get any answers out of her. She slammed her fist against the counter and looked back into the sink.
“The ring. I lost the ring. Your ring,” she sobbed, holding her head in her hands. You were shocked. A ring? Like an engagement ring?
“Pip, I don’t have any rings. Did you mean a…” You didn’t finish your sentence. You were scared that you would get your hopes up, and intimidate her with the thought of marriage.
“Goddamn Y/N, yes I was going to propose to you,” she stated, desperately trying to wipe away her tears before facing you. “But I lost the fucking ring. I thought there was a smudge and I was trying to clean it off before I proposed tonight, but I dropped in down the drain. How could I be such an idiot?”
“No no, don’t call yourself that. I love you, and by the way, the answer is yes. We can have Oak or someone come get the ring out tomorrow. We were in the middle of a show and I couldn’t check my phone, I’m sorry. But I love you, okay? I love you. And we’re gonna get married, and become Broadway’s newest power couple.” You hugged her and held her in your arms as you gave your speech. It wasn’t the most romantic proposal, but you couldn’t be happier. You had no ring, and your new fiancee was sobbing in your arms, yet the strangeness seemed perfect for you.
“That sounds good,” she responded shakily, nodding gently. You kissed the corner of her mouth and wrapped your arms around her hips. Running a hand through your hair, she winked at you, causing another tear to run down her cheek. You suppressed a chuckle and pressed your forehead against hers. Everything in that moment was perfect.
“Could [Sauron’s] power be defied by Bombadil alone? I think not. I think that in the end, if all else is conquered, Bombadil will fall, Last as he was First; and then Night will come.” - The Fellowship of the Ring
Exaggerated a little in context, think about what a magnificent image this would be!
Imagine the Last Battle, the Dagor Dagorath; armies lie strewn across the plains of Valinor, smoking and blackened and ruined. Melkor hurls the Sun and Moon from the sky, and into cataclysm they fall, and all that is good in Arda withers, and falls into ruin with them. And before all the ravening hordes of Mordor and Angband and Utumno combined stands only Tom Bombadil, Iarwain Ben-Adar, oldest and fatherless, with his yellow boots and blue coat and a twinkle in his eye. And with a “Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo!”, watch him slay, until surely too his end must come, and Night devours the world.
Sign me up for the apocalypse movie of the century!