anyone else a slut for that shippy trope where someone does Homage to their sovereign or lord by publicly kneeling and kissing their ring at court in a way that has lots of Sexual Subtext™
The 14th century Gothic cloister of the Porto cathedral was decorated with azulejos between 1729 and 1731. The scenic tiles depict the life of the Virgin Mary and Ovid’s Metamorphoses.
“Blessed art thou, Great Red Lord; merciful is thy Hammer. Blessed be thy forge and thy fire, that giveth life. May there be peace in my tribe, and strength in my arms. May the work of my shaping honor thee; may it never rust nor tarnish. Great Red Lord, M-H-L, bless now my anvil.“
Let’s talk about things my muses are afraid of: Sauron Edition
1. Cirdan: what does he want? he doesn’t want anything I have. I can’t control him. Hard to manipulate. I have done my best Nice Elf impression and he was not impressed. Nothing I say or do makes him believe me, how am I supposed to work like this? Further complaints: He lives on a boat where I can’t get him. Ossë likes him. Ossë’s a big deal. Water is wet. Drowning sucks. Cirdan = water. This is awful I will kill all of his friends maybe that will help. Oh no. Now he’s just mad. Calm, and mad. That’s terrifying. What intimidates this guy? Is it nothing? I think it’s nothing. I hate this, send me a different elf please.
2. Drowning/Large Bodies of Water/see above point. Fire and water is a no go. All my shit rusts in water. None of my abilities or maia talents are effective in this medium. Wtf water, why are you like this.
3. The Void: Baby Jail.
4. The Valar: look, okay, I get it. You’re big, you’re powerful, you could wipe me from the face of the earth if you ever got off your couch in paradise to get the remote. I had to go toe-to-toe with Aulë once. He told me to go to my room, it was the worst day. So I’m going to dedicate my existence to pissing you off, but not so much that you come for me. How about that.
Wow remember that post I made 2 years ago that’s got 51,500 fucking notesand counting? THIS –^ THIS UP HERE, WAS THE *FIRST PART*. LOST TO TIME AND MEMORY. This part down here? —v This part, that makes NO SENSE on its own, has been three times around the known earth and continues to haunt me in my waking hours. I understand nothing, and hate all things.
1. Tulkas. he has one job on this miserable earth, ordained by god, and it is to kick my ass whenever possible. that’s it. that’s his raison d’être. he’s the god of kicking one ass. my ass. so fuck that guy.
2. Mandos: 1/10 stars, terrible hospitality, would not recommend. Guess how many dust particles you can count in Four Ages? So many! I named all 98 quadrillion of them. Shout out to my boy Jimmy for being the best, least-identical mote and a great listener haha call me bro
3. Bondage: hey you know what’s great about being chained up for eons? literally nothing
4. Námo: he’s the death guy. he does death.
5. Varda: Do you ever look up at the stars and think “why are they flipping me off?” No? Just me? Okay. Furthermore: The universe is a giant, scary, cold, unfeeling place. It will keep going with or without you.
I am personally offended by this.
I feel like the endless reaches of space don’t respect me? Don’t they know who I am?
6: The Void: there is so much of it, all the time everywhere forever, and nothing else except me because i’m in it. I miss dust. And my legs.
With a wary squint at the rather vocal and rude bird, Lindethiel snatched up the note and shut her window quickly. Last thing she needed was bird shit all over her room.
She read over the note twice, brow furrowing, and drummed her fingers against it as she glanced toward her door. Elrond may have such a map, but the most likely person to have such information would be Lord Cirdan. Which felt more wrong than shuffling through the maps in the library here, so hopefully there would be something sufficient in Imladris.
If not, he’d have to make do without it.
Noticing the little angry bird still at her window, she grabbed up a plate with half a slice of bread from her dinner and carefully slid the glass up just enough to push out the peace offering.
The wood now gleamed with rich browns, and with the smooth black-greys of bark like polished leather. The boles of the trees glowed with a soft green like young grass: early spring or a fleeting vision of it was about them.
Of course I would welcome the chance for parley between our two equally legitimate sovereign kingdoms, as one monarch to another. I’m sure we would both benefit from improved relations between the east and west lands of Men.
Indeed, why do we not meet in person? My summer palace at Umbar is lovely this time of year.
~Ar-Anaškad, King of Kings, Lord of Mordor and Greater Harad”
Why don’t we leave the subject of legitimacy for another time. And I would request we meet on the closest thing to neutral ground that can be found.
I simply wish to try and understand you better, though I may live to regret it; one can only try.
“Neutrality is a rare quality these days! His majesty could just as well have suggested we meet upon the top of a cloud. But perhaps somewhere long uninhabited would suffice for our purposes.
Far north of the Blue Mountains, well nigh the icy bay of Forochel, there is a lonely little island that sits frozen and forgotten by time: ‘Himling’* they call it. You may recognize something of its original inhabitants, if anything survives of them. I mislike traveling over water, but for you I will make this small exception; ice is a friendlier element to me and mine than the open sea, after all.
~Ar-Anaškad, etc.etc.
(*A truly charming bit of linguistic assimilation, if I may say so; almost as charming as the colloquial use of “Brandywine” for the Branduin River. One can map a great deal of history through the shifts in language. I coined a pidgin tongue for the Orcs in my service, and their vernacular changes almost by the week– it fascinates me as much as it frustrates. There– already you know me better than you did.)”
MisbehavingMaiar: Tumblr Archive 