i love lotr ok

I know 22 September is Bilbo and Frodo Baggins’ birthday—but let us not forget that it is also the date in which Samwise Gamgee, last of the Ring-bearers, leaves Middle-earth for ever to reunite with Frodo.


musical theatre meme: [1/5] shows.

wandering the empty road / in twilight’s silver shade / following the hidden paths / alone and unafraid / let the sunlight free the heart / forever bound to roam / and let the waking morning find / the weary traveller returning home (the lord of the rings.)

the one adhd symtom that goes widely unknown is the “all or nothing” thing.

like if i am interested in something, i can devote my entire day for it without getting bored at all and if im not interested in it, paying attention to it even for short time is like torture

like i struggle with watching 5 minutes long video because im not that interested in it but i can watch all extended lotr movies on one sitting without getting even slightly bored (been there, done that) just because i love the lotr lore



omg but when I saw those tags I fell in love fell. in. love. with your au like?? It’s perfect?? Anyway a thousand apologies for this–but I couldn’t get the brilliance of your au out of my head so I doodled a little montage of sorts I hope you don’t mind!!

I know modern Éowyn would probably be waaaay “classier/regal” than this… but I have this image stuck in my head with no hope of budging of always-wearing-plaid-shirts-and-leather-jackets-feminist-vlogger modern Éowyn :’D

No really, I feel like teenage/young adult modern Éowyn would have a youtube channel where she rants about how much she hates Wormtongue (knowing he watches the channel)


Couple Moodboard: Eleanor & Legolas (Rávamë’s Bane Trilogy)

“It is true, you are not demure, passive, or submissive by any stretch of the imagination. But I have no need nor desire for a demure, passive women at my side. Pray the day never comes, but if I were ever to assume rule in my father’s stead, I would need more than just a loving wife and friend. I’d need one who I both love and trust to share in my burdens and responsibilities, as well as trust with my heart. One who knows me, both the good and the bad, and will not shy away from either. And one who I can rely on to tell me bluntly when I am being an insufferably, prideful fool.”

“You might find yourself eating those words someday.”

“I will take my chances, mîr nín.”

I decided to put this together because I’m in a quotey, mushy mood, and also because I feel kinda bad for dragging their slow burn romance out for so long. It’ll be worth it in the end, guys, I promise! <3

heckofabecca replied to your post “Thank you for 100 followers!”

Congrats!!! I’d love to see Lothíriel in the gardens of the Houses of Healing… Éomer is optional :P Thank you so much for everything!! Always a treat to see you on my dash xoxo

aSHDBHDBH no thank YOU fam ily <3 have a lothy @heckofabecca

anonymous asked:

Neighbour who’s way too enthuisiastic about LOTR soundtracks au or That one asshole costumer that always comes in 5 minutes before the store is about to close au Nessian please... <3

A/N: Ok i love the LOTR prompt so I did that one.  Hopefully this satisfies your Nessian craving!


Flexing her fingers inside her slightly holey mittens, Nesta bit back a moan as warmth speared through her extremities, nose tingling with the sudden warmth of her cozy apartment.  She sighed, dropping her carefully organized oversized purse to the side, tabbed binders peeking out of the unzipped center. 

Leaning against the wall, Nesta loosened the scarf closely wound around her neck in an effort to avoid the plague like flu that seemed to seize her body every winter, and bent forward to begin the arduous task of unlacing her wool lined boots.

Nesta frowned at the small puddle of slush she’d managed to track in despite the trek from the lobby of her building to her apartment on the seventh floor, trudging toward her small but meticulously clean kitchenette where she expertly tugged a few lengths of paper towel off the roller over the sink to tidy up her mess.

Content with the now tidied space, she carefully hung her coat and scarf on their designated hooks, placing her boots against the wall to dry.

Once she’d slid her sack bag into its slot near her desk, she plugged in her phone to charge and proceeded toward the bathroom, unbuttoning her crisp white shirt with deft fingers as she went.

The shower turned on with a squeal as she twisted the taps, steam filling the cramped room.  After she stripped down, Nesta released her hair from the neat twist at the back of her head, tired locks cascading around her shoulders as she stepped into the comforting warmth of the downpour.  Slowly, her body relaxed, the tension easing out of her shoulders, worming down her arms and floating away on the puffs of steam that slipped around the shower curtain.

Soapy water slid down the drain in endless spirals, unseen Nesta’s gently closed eyes, lips parted in relaxation - until her jaw clenched as that thing that sound started againDamn them.

Letting out a low growl, Nesta angrily twisted the shower handles until the glorious pressure reduced to a trickle, and then nothing, her naked body pink with the heat.  Angrily toweling off, the sound assaulted her ears with more clarity than it had when muffled by the steady hum of running water.

Nesta squeezed the excess water from her hair, sticking it up hastily in an ancient claw clip that had seen better days, the few teeth missing allowing damp tendrils to escape randomly, making a rather attractive appearance for the frustrated and oblivious woman.

Still slightly clammy, she stormed to her chest of drawers, violently tugging out an oversized sweater that was just big enough to miss the mark on ‘oversized but attractive.’  As she pulled her worn sweatpants over her slim hips, Nesta shoved the drawer closed, pulling down the hem of her sweater with a white-knuckled grip.

She stepped into her running sneakers, threw back her shoulders, and left her apartment in a huff, turning sharply and knocking on apartment 708′s closed door before her righteous anger dissipated.

After slamming her fist on the door three times in quick succession, she paused, waiting for footsteps or some indication that the highly insensitive inhabitant had heard her. Not damn likely given the ungodly loud volume of the lyric-less music that poured through the thin walls like a tidal wave of nerdy oppression.

She’d identified the music almost immediately when the torture had started nearly two weeks ago, the night after the jerk had moved in if the echoing laughter of his friends shoving boxes and furniture was any indication.  After the rabble had departed en masse, it had started, and Nesta recognized it with a shudder.

That’s not to say she’s not a fan of Tolkien or Lord of the Rings.  In fact, many would be surprised just how much no-nonsense Nesta Archeron loved the fantasy author, and that trilogy in particular.  No.  It was anything associated with that farce of a movie adaptation she’d anticipated with the highest hopes.  She’d watched the earliest trailers with a sort of morbid curiosity, but as she really considered the casting and realized they were being shot all at once, and the run time was more than the standard two hour mark, she’d dared to hope, a mistake she regretted about halfway through the first film.

And so, she’d completely distanced herself from anything involving the blockbuster film trilogy and immersed herself in the familiar pages of her Tolkien books, silently – and sometimes not so silently depending on how many drinks she’d had – detesting and judging anyone who disagreed with her absolute boycott.

Which is why when the music remained at an earsplitting decibel and the offending party did not answer the door, Nesta banged on the yellowy wood once again, the cheap brushed silver doorknocker jangling with the force of her blows.

Finally, the volume lowered to a level that wouldn’t be picked up by the Mars rover and heavy footsteps lumbered toward the door.  I pity your downstairs neighbor.

Hearing the locks disengage, the door cracked open enough to reveal half of what Nesta grudgingly admitted in the private of her mind was an unreasonably attractive face.  Dark eyebrows rose in question as his hazel eyes swept over her form in an appraising but shockingly un-objectifying way, as if he was assessing an opponent rather than rating her on a hotness scale. 

If she wasn’t riding on the wave of her righteous indignance, Nesta might have felt some discomfort at the fact that she was meeting this tall dark and handsome stranger while wearing her frumpiest outfit, but even as her mind began to falter, he smirked crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorjamb, still half hidden by the partially opened door, “Can I help you?”

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Peter Jackson, Philippa Boyens and Fran Walsh probably at some point
  • Peter Jackson: And then Legolas flips over and flies through the air and grows wings and kills like 130000 orcs and does this other ridiculous thing.
  • Everyone else: Peter that's silly and impossible.
  • Peter Jackson: But it's Legolas.
  • Everyone else: True.