you look upon a woman

Eowyn: But no living man am I! You are looking upon a woman. Eowyn am I, Eomund’s daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.“ 

The winged creature screamed at her, but then the Ringwraith was silent, as if in sudden doubt.

Witch King: *internally* The prophecy said no living man can kill me…that probably means women, too, right? Like, she’s a ‘man’ in a general sense. I wish I had thought about this scenario earlier, there are so many women around here. I’ll probably be fine. I can take her. I mean, the word woman has ‘man’ in it, there’s no way the prophecy was saying a girl can kill me. I got this.


Julia Jones as Captain Boromírë—Warden of the White Tower and Steward-Princess of Gondor, daughter of Denethor II and older sister to Faraleth, as well as a well-respected warrior and leader of the Gondorian armies. Boromirë represented the interests of her people at the Council of Elrond, after having been sent to Rivendell at the urging of her father. She lost her bid for the Ring to be used in Gondor’s defense, but she pledged herself to the Fellowship of the Ring nevertheless. However, the Ring’s power and her desperation to see Gondor defended wore down her honor, and she confronted Freyda Baggins and caused the Hobbit to flee. In the ensuing search, the Fellowship was beset by orcs, and Boromirë fell coming to the aid of her companions.

(part of the series YOU LOOK UPON A WOMAN, a project which reimagines Lord of the Rings with a cast of women of color)

i have things for consideration: the sons of fëanor as not sons, but daughters.

give me maglor, in her grief, haunted by the sea– give me maedhros, the elleth who burned through life and burned in death– give me celegorm, the girl who wanted and wanted and wanted lúthien tinúviel, the nightingale– give me amras and amrod, sisters close as double edged blade who died for the silmarils– give me caranthir, in her splendour, in her temperament– give me curufin, who binds herself to her father to the jewels that will be her doom–

give me women, utterly lovely & utterly doomed.

how old were you when they told you that your body was a temple you weren’t allowed to let other people into? that your hallowed soul would somehow rot and grow mold if you let another human being’s breath caress the tops of your shoulders, the curve of your neck?

because i was seven. my father said, “your body is a gift, save it.” i am not an object. i am not an object.  

“it’s good to cover up.” no. i cover up mistakes, i cover up failures. i am not either one of these, and it has taken me years to train myself out of believing it. if i must lay eyes on every whitehair chest of lobster-red old men in their wrinkly skin and saggy swimsuit bottoms, you can handle my spaghetti straps, my dresses above the knee, my shorts, my v-neck tee. 

“what will people think?” well given that when i dress modestly i’m seen as a prude and a frigid bitch, i’m going to assume they’re thinking something insidious. the happy thing is: their thoughts don’t change my reality. i am not defined by them. you can’t tell me who i am. you don’t own this. you will never own this.

“leave something to the imagination.” your problem is the reality of my body, and i’m not sorry. you hate that you can’t imagine me flawless, no scars, no scabby shins, not a real human. in your head, you photoshop onto me large breasts that stay perky without a bra, hips without stretchmarks, a spine without freckles. but i am real, and these are all beautiful, and you should feel blessed you look upon them. 

“no man wants a woman like that.” that’s fine with me. i don’t want a man who judges me for showing off my body. in fact, some of us don’t want a man at all. sadly for you, i don’t dress to impress strangers. i dress because it’s summer, and i’m hot, and i don’t just mean the temperature. and for the record? when i do dress for my man in skimpy little booty shorts? he doesn’t seem to have much of a problem with or without it. he loves me for who i am and not the purpose i serve as an object.

and i am not an object. i am not an object. you don’t get to sum up my personality based on my clothing. you cannot hold a book and look at the cover and tell me the whole story. you cannot look at me and know anything. i am not just a book. i’m a nation of libraries.

i do not become unholy for a strapless dress. i do not lose myself for daring to wear a skirt with a slit up the leg. “ladies, your body is sacred, make sure you dress in clothing i personally find demure and satisfyingly modest” sounds a lot like you think you’re a god and only you can determine whether or not i'm worthy of eternal damnation. 

i got news for you, buddy.

i’m a goddess. i don’t ask for permission.

—  Let me dress for the weather without comment. I don’t care if you “don’t like the packaging.” I’m not a package, and even if I was, it’s not to your house I’ll be showing up. // r.i.d

Therefore do not bend, Ancalimë. Once bend a little, and they will bend you further until you are bowed down. Sink your roots into the rock, and face the wind, though it blow away all your leaves.

Gong Li as Tar-Ancalimë, First Ruling Queen of Númenor—the daughter of Tar-Aldarion and Erendis, and successor to the throne. Her mother’s tragic married life influenced Tar-Ancalimë’s future rejection of her husband, as well as her policy regarding Númenor’s relationship with its colonies in Middle Earth.

Ancalimë was succeeded by her son, Tar-Anárion. She died in year 1285 of the Second Age, after a rule of over two centuries.

(part of the series YOU LOOK UPON A WOMAN, a project which reimagines Tolkien with a cast of women of color)

This Isn’t My Home, Anymore

Newt Scamander x Reader, ft. Tina

Author: Lil Lambie

Words: 1565

Warnings: Jealousy, kissing, angst, implied smut

Request: (Anon) newt x reader where you’re jealous of tina ??? pls make it angsty !!! and maybe reader is newt’s close friend who travels with him to america and she doesnt know why newt is so into the woman who turned him in and !?!?!??!?!!?

A/N: Done with all my Newt requests for now! I loved writing all of these and I like this angsty Newt. Let me know what you guys think! Love ya!

“Newt!” you picked up your suitcase, almost an identical to Newt’s. You pushed through the crowd and threw your arms around him. He hesitated for a moment then embraced you, pulling away to greet you with a kiss on the cheek.

“(Y/N), how was London?”

“It was great.” you said, as Newt grabbed your bag from you, using his free hand to wrap around your shoulders. You smiled at him. “Yeah, I really missed my family. It was great catching up with them. My brother is going into the major of Muggle Studies. My sister is going into Dragons. They are all growing up so fast. I just wish they would come and live at Ilvermorny.”

Newt rubbed your shoulder. “I’m sorry.” he frowned. “But at least you are home with me.”

You smiled and kissed him.

Newt pulled away.

Before either of you could explain yourselves, a woman interrupted you.

She had short styled hair, she was slender, she fixed a black round soft hat over her hair. She ran her hands over her blue jacket, only a shade lighter than Newt’s peacock blue coat. She smiled tentatively at Newt. Her eyes and face soft when she looked at Newt. Until her eyes fell upon Newt’s arm around you.

The nameless woman looked up to your face is a tense smile. She stood up a little straighter.

“Newt,” the woman laughed, “I don’t believe I’ve met your friend here.” she smiled awkwardly.

“Oh!” Newt said, springing off you. He stood between you and the woman. The awkward adorable tilt returned. Newt began to get flustered. He licked his lip and played with a button on his coat. He looked like a frightened school child.

“Newt?” the woman laughed.

Newt smiled at her and quickly nodded. “Yes, sorry. (Y/N), this is Tina. Tina this is (Y/N).” he gestured his hands across the two of you.

Tina offered a hand. You reluctantly shook it. “Goldstein?” you asked.

Tina flinched and then nodded yes, recovering with a smile. “Why, yes? How do you know that? I don’t believe I have any relation with you or your relatives. (L/N), right?”

You winced too and repeated Tina’s motion. “Yeah, how did you know?”

“Newt talks about you all the time!”

Newt smiled between the two of you and flushed red.

“Really?” you said through gritted teeth throwing a sharp look at Newt. “Tina Goldstein? The Tina Goldstein? Why, Newt talks about you all the time! I’ve heard some very interesting things about you.”

The hostility was growing between the two of you, and Newt’s anxiety and nervous tendencies grew with it. He had fluffed his hair repeatedly and nearly pulled off a button. He fiddled with the string behind the button. He avoided your eyes.

“Oh, I hope they are all good things.” Tina smiled.

“Oh. Yeah.” you grimaced.

“Well, Newt!” Tina tapped Newt on the shoulder. He broke from his anxiety and smiled at Tina.

“Y-yes?” his voice cracked.

Tina smiled. “As much as I love standing in the train station, why don’t we go home? Your friend (Y/N), can come with us.”

“Home?” you said tensely. Your jaw growing sore. Lip throbbing as you bit down on it. You dug your nails into the palm of your hands in fists. “You two live together?”

Tina smiled at you. “Yeah, a lot happened while you were in London.”

“I can see that now.” you said sarcastically.

“Well, are you coming then?” Tina said.

You started walking with her, she didn’t take a step forward. Her eyes were fixed on Newt. He was struck between the two of you. He smiled and nodded. Tina reached for his hand.

You were officially the third wheel.


Newt dropped your suitcase on a bed in a room you did not recognize. It had been redone, the walls painted and decorated differently. Because it wasn’t your room. It never was. It was the guest room. You turned around to the master bedroom and shuddered.

You had been kicked to the street.

You clenched your teeth as you popped open your trunk and threw its contents with no care.

“Make yourself at home-I guess.” Tina laughed.

“No, why don’t you make yourself at home. Because it seems like you took mine.”

Tina stayed silent.

“(Y/N)?” Newt stepped forward, catching a cloak you threw at him. He smiled at you. You breathed out and felt the tension drip out from your fingertips. He stepped closer and whispered, “Can we talk?” he looked back at Tina and smiled. “Would you mind if we had a moment of privacy? Just to catch up?”

“No, course not. Take your time.” Tina smiled, and closed the door behind her.

You were left in the guest room with Newt.

“(Y/N), please,” Newt pleaded. “Listen to me, I can explain!”

You crossed your arms and stared at him. “I’m waiting.”

“Look, Tina and I-”

“I know! The Tina Goldstein? The one who arrested you and almost got you killed? I wanted to come home right away, but I guess I didn’t because it isn’t home anymore is it? Then you stopped writing me. No more owls came. No more packages. I thought you were lost to me.”

“I-I didn’t hear from you. I lost my path, (Y/N).”

“Lost your path?! Newt, you are sleeping with the woman who arrested you! I didn’t write you, because you didn’t seem to care anymore. Your notes were smeared with ink, they weren’t your neat notes anymore. You only write quickly when you are writing about your creatures. You always take the time to write it out perfectly. It got messier and messier Newt. I should’ve stayed in London.”

“(Y/N), no please! I’m sorry. It was all miscommunication. I couldn’t live without you so I guess I was open to a different path. I wouldn’t’ve met Tina if the beasts hadn’t escaped in New York. I wouldn’t’ve fought Grindelwald! I saved lives, (Y/N). I did it because Tina helped me. She is stubborn and she needs time to warm up to you,  but please, give her a chance.”

“You want me to be friends with your replacement girlfriend?” the first tear fell from your cheek.

“No, (Y/N), no.” his voice fell weak. He took a step to you and reached his soft warm hand to your cheek. You didn’t pull away. You clenched your jaw and bit your lip trying to keep the tears inside.

“Why, Newt? Why couldn’t you have just wrote me one more time and told me. Told me it was over.”

Newt wiped away a tear with his thumb. He smiled. His eyes glossed over now. A few tears slipping out from him too.

“(Y/N), Tina and I haven’t slept together. The most we have done is hold hands and kiss once. It was a mistake. I’ve been meaning to break it off. This room is Tina’s. We don’t sleep together. We just live together sometimes.

“We work on the hunt for Grindelwald together. Tina gave you her room, because it is yours. She knew you probably wouldn’t want to jump back into things again, once you found out about us. Tina isn’t as scary as she looks. She really is a great person. A great friend.

“(Y/N), I made a mistake, a big mistake. But, please, give me another chance. I’m yours. I’ve always been. Won’t you be mine?” he smiled. “Again?”

You shook your head and let him kiss you. You pulled away and tried to hide your smile. “I’m still mad at you.”

Newt laughed. “I know. How can I make it up to you?”

“You can shut up and make up for lost time.”

Newt smirked, his head tilted, pondering the missed pleasures. He kissed you again, soft and gentle at first. A force was pulling him away. But you were pulling him in. You grabbed his scarf and yanked him forward. Forcing him closer to you. You threw the scarf off. You laid your hands over Newt’s and lead them from your cheek to your waist. You held them there and the secret lustful Newt returned.

You fell back on the bed. Newt on top of you. He pulled away for a moment to smile at you. He kissed you again. Softening. Savoring. He kissed your forehead, then your nose, your chin, and your hands. You roughed up his hair.

You pulled back.

The tilt returned and he smiled nervously. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just enjoying this moment.” you sat up and kissed him on the nose and then the lips and laid back down. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him to sit on his side. Your back was to his chest, his heart steady against your back. He reached for your hand and kissed your head.

“(Y/N), I love you.”

“It’s good to be home.” you smiled, squeezing his hand and kissing him on the cheek once. You didn’t need to say the L word, because he already knew it. You had just said it. But Newt was old fashioned and a gentleman.

The least you could do was say, “I love you too.”

women with speaking roles in the lotr films:

  • eowyn
  • galadriel
  • arwen
  • that woman who told her kids to go to edoras
  • there’s the little girl named freda*
  • rosie says one line*
  • some female hobbits say “yeah!” at bilbo’s bday party*
  • old woman says “we are safe my lady” at helm’s deep*
  • shelob (does she have a speaking role??? i have no idea)*
  • ??? what the fuck

* = update

Emergency Lie

Title: Emergency Lie

 Summary: As a member of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, it is your duty to protect your leader and king.  That duty never ended, even after Erebor was reclaimed and Thorin crowned king.  You just never thought you would have had to protect him at a dance party.  

 Warnings: Little white lies. Fluff.  

 Masterlist of Fan Fiction

Originally posted by tinysofia

You took a deep breath and let out a happy sigh as you watched the number of dwarves and men and elves dance around in the great hall of Erebor.  It had been a few months since Erebor was reclaimed, since the Battle of Five Armies.  Thorin was crowned king, Fili crowned prince.  Kili and his elf maid were in a very entertaining courtship, seeing how it drove Thorin mad at times.  

All the other company you had traveled with were around.  Oin and Gloin were at one table, chatting with Gloin’s wife.  The Ri brothers were all dancing about, as were the Ur brothers.  Dwalin and Balin sat at the head table with Thorin and some other members of counsel and family.  And you, the human they picked up during their travels was off in a corner, observing the festivities.  

It was by a sheer stroke of fate that you stumbled across the company while they traveled towards Rivendell.  You were a wanderer, looking for a place to call home, when you fell in with them. Friendships were formed quickly, and you were soon a true member of the company.  And when the mountain was reclaimed, you were granted a home here, in the royal wing, no less!  Sure, it was odd being the only human in permanent residence, but everyone soon took to you. They called you the tall warrior, even if you were only a few inches taller than everyone else.  So here, you were, in your home, enjoying the celebration.

Keep reading


Danai Gurira as Arwen Undómiel—an Elven lady of royal Noldor blood; the daughter of Elrondal from the line of the Half-Elven, also called the Evenstar by her people. Her aspect was said to recall her ancestress, Lúthien, fairest of all the Elves. After the War of the Ring, she married High Queen Arawend II Elassar, becoming Queen Consort of the Reunited Kingdom of Arnor and Gondor. They governed together for many years, until the High Queen’s death and power was ceded to Ancalimë II, second cousin to the Queen.

Arwen died of a broken heart in 121 F.A., one year after the death of Arawend.

(part of the series YOU LOOK UPON A WOMAN, a project which reimagines Lord of the Rings with a cast of women of color)


Today in Middle-Earth: Eowyn and Merry defeat the Witch-king of Angmar (March 3019 T.A.)

 'Begone, foul dwimmerlaik, lord of carrion! Leave the dead in peace!‘ 

   A cold voice answered: 'Come not between the Nazgûl and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.' 

   A sword rang as it was drawn. 'Do what you will; but I will hinder it, if I may.' 

   'Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!' 

   Then Merry heard of all sounds in that hour the strangest. It seemed that Dernhelm laughed, and the clear voice was like the ring of steel. 'But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Éowyn I am, Éomund’s daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.' 

Victim of Love

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: In which Bucky and his beautiful black girlfriend don’t back out against racist asses.
Genre: Romance/fluff
Rating: T
Warnings: Swearings, racism
3,551 words

Notes: I got a lovely request from @violeata and this is the result. I hope I did good enough for you, darling! :’) The song they dance to I imagined as being The World (Is Going Up in Flames) and the title is from Victim of Love, both from Charles Bradley (who made an appearence in Luke Cage and made me tear up with joy). ALSO, this is pretty much my headcanon that Bucky has no chill with all the prejudice still hanging around these times. Hope this is good! Enjoy! <3

Bucky Barnes has always been a sucker for pretty girls – and it isn’t much different with you.

The first time you meet, you're  going through a rough path in your life. You’re just moved into a new town, with a new job, no friends and fresh out of a relationship since your previous boyfriend didn’t want to follow you. Everything’s a mess and you feel like shit for not controlling it.

When the only co-worker you have some contact with invites you to a night-out at Harlem’s Paradise, you can’t help but say yes, only thinking about getting some class A needed booze for a change.

Because that is the only purpose of that night. No boys, no dancing, no having fun. Just drinking.

You just don’t expect to find Bucky there.

Keep reading