Hey When You Make Posts, I Just Want You To Know, Thou/thee/thy/thine/ye Are Like He/you(object)/your/yours/you(subject)

"I asked Chat GPT"...yeah well I asked Sam Gamgee and he told me that the shadow is only a passing thing, that there is light and high beauty forever beyond its reach. 😌

"I asked Chat GPT"...yeah well I asked Éowyn and she told me that women of this country learned long ago that those without swords can still die upon them. That she fears neither pain nor death.

"I asked Chat GPT"...yeah well I asked Aragorn and he said "I BID YOU STAND, MEN OF THE WEST!"

"I asked Chat GPT"...yeah well I asked Faramir and he said that Shire must be a great realm, where gardeners are held in high esteem.

"I asked Chat GPT"...yeah well I asked Legolas and he had some exposition for us.

I could definitely go on, but that's good for now 😅

i hate when you google a word and some fucking company comes up instead. Do you think you are more important than the english dictionary you piece of shit corporation

happy do you remember the 21st night of september to all those who celebrate

1st of October: Mountain / A' chiad latha dhen Dàmhair: A' bheinn

English Translation:

Since the day the dragon came, it seemed to Thorin he saw the mountain clearer with every step he took away from it, with each mile he and his family led the people of Erebor west, their backs to the mountain, its form in his mind grew firmer.

They toiled in strange lands, selling their skills like simple trades-folk instead of the masters they were. How low we are fallen, the young prince would seethe, still proud despite their loss.

Thorin's people had not been long in connecting Thror's hoard to the dragon's attack; the first to do so turned their backs on him, choosing to join their kin in the Iron Hills than suffer the Wilds under a leader they did not trust. Those who kept faith and remained, standing shoulder to shoulder with him, Thorin vowed to protect.

Even before the disappearance of Thrain, a shift came in Durin's Folk. They began to seek guidance from their prince, following his lead and rallying behind the dream he described for them: a new home in the west, far from hardship and strife where they may rebuild all that was lost.

But always in his mind lay the same thought, the mountain, the mountain, the mountain. In his dreams he looked on it from afar. Watching. Waiting. He would bring his people home, redeem his family for their grandfather's sickness that brought them all to ruin.

The birth of his sister's sons came in a time of peace. The older they grew, an ever-increasing choir that sung with the drums from the deep followed him....the mountain, the mountain, the mountain, they cried.

Oh the lonely mountain...

Scottish Gaelic translation:

Bhon dearbh là a thàinig an nathair-sgiathach, chunnaic Thorin a’ bheinn nas soilleire le gach ceum a thog e air falbh, leis a h-uile mìle a stiùiridh e is a theaghlach an t-sluagh Erebor gu Iar, an dromannan ris a’ bheinn, dh’fhàs a cumadh cruaidh anns na inntinn.

Dh’obraich iad ann an dùthchannan neònaiche, a’ reic na sgilean aca mar gun robhar luchd-malairt farasta seach na maighstirean a bhathar. Cho ìosal a tha sinn air tuiteam, smaoinich am prionnsa òg le fuath geur, fhathast moiteil a dh’aindeoin an calltachd.

Cha tug e fada gus an cur an t-sluaigh a h-uile rud ri chèile: sabaid an nathair-sgiathach agus tasgaidh Thror. Tionndaidh na ciad feadhainn an aghaidh an Rìgh agus thagh iad a bhith a’ dol gu na luchd-dàimh aca anns na Cnuic Iarainn, an àite a bhith a’ fulang san dùthaich fhiadhaich fo cheannard nach robh earb annta ann. Ghealladh Thòrin gun dìon e na feadhainn nach deach, a bha a dh’fhantainn agus a chumail creideas leotha.

Eadhon ron thuras Thràin nach tàinig e air ais bho fhathast, thàinig atharrachadh air na muinntir Durin. Thoiseach iad a’ sireadh stiùireadh bhon phrionnsa, a bhith ga leantainn agus a’ tighinn ri chèile air cùlaibh an aislinge a bha e ag iarraidh dhaibh: dachaigh ùr san Iar, fada air falbh bho dhorradas agus strì far am faodar a h-uile rud a bha air caill a thogail a-rithist.

Ach an-còmhnaidh anns na inntinn bha an aon smaoin, a’ bheinn, a’ bheinn, a’ bheinn. Anns na aislingean, choimhead e air fad às. A’ coimhead. A’ feitheamh. Thoireadh e an t-sluaigh aige dachaigh agus cuir ceart gach rud a rinn a sheanair a thoirt iad uile gu lom-sgrios.

Thàinig breith mhic a phiuthar ann an àm ciùin ach mar a dh’fhàs iad suas, dh’fhàs guth còisir anns na inntinn a bha a’ seinn leis na drumaichean às na h-uamhan. A’ bheinn, a’ bheinn, a’ bheinn, dh’èigh iad.

Ò a’ bheinn ònaranach...

Amon Rawya

(Tha mi fhathast ag ionnsachadh na Gàidhlig - bithibh snog XD)

*screaming*

Life after Narnia

The Pevensies return from Narnia a bit discombobulated. They are adults in childish bodies. The war has ended, and they are to return home to their parents but they never forget Professor Kirke. Often visiting him during summers.

Their mother notices it first, how everyone seems to listen to Peter. Not because he is the eldest, but because they respect him. She hears them talking of 'Narnia' and deduces that something happened to them while they were away. But she can't put her finger on what. She has no idea what an 'Aslan' is, but she doesn't question them. She misses her children. They are there in their home, but they aren't. There's always a faraway look in their eye as if they are remembering.

When they eat, no one picks up a fork until Peter starts. It confuses their father. Leaving the table, Peter stands, then Ed. The boys take their sisters' hands and lead them from the table before coming to help with the cleaning. She notices the way they walk. Peter is always first, Susan next to him, then Edmund and Lucy. They walk with regality, Peter and Ed with straight backs as the girls take their arms.

They are out on the town, when their father notices it. The children stopped in front of a jewelry store; something had caught their eye. Without saying anything, Peter opens the door, and his siblings walk through before he does. It is a set of lapel pins they saw first. A Lion. He hears them all say "Aslan" before Peter pulls out his wallet. From that day on, he always notices a Lion somewhere on their person. Peter with a ring, Susan with a necklace, Ed with a pocket watch and Lucy with a bracelet. But all wear their pins when he sends them to school.

Peter often forgets that he is not to speak before his father, but one look from Lucy quells his anger. His father calls him "boy" and it takes everything in him not to correct him. He is High King.

He begins working when he turns fourteen. He tires of asking his father for things only to be dismissed of "silly childish things". All he asked for was a sword. When he saves enough money, he buys his sword, and Susan an archery set. Susan notices the tension between Peter and their father.

Edmund asked for a chess set and his mother obliged. He often plays with Lucy, resulting in a stalemate. The only person to ever have beaten him, was Susan.

Lucy is the one their parents notice the most change in. No longer is she a nine year old, but she talks as if she is older. Using words even they don't know the meaning of. She speaks of this Aslan the most. Their parents realize that "Aslan" is the name of the Lion they brandish when they hear various exclamations of "Aslan's Mane!" or "By the Lion!"

They return to their school, Whitmore Boarding School. Many people notice a change in them. Mostly their teachers. Peter commands respect, Susan is positively regal, Edmund has a silver tongue, and Lucy is more peculiar than strange.

On the first day of term, a professor addresses Peter as "Boy" amongst other professors and in front of his brother and sisters. Peter cannot help himself. He tells him to address him with respect; to call on him as "Sir", and he will receive the same respect in turn. He will never answer to "Boy" again. It takes all his restraint to not say "King".

The Professor never did ask him the question he had called on him for.

It almost infuriates their teachers, but they realize that they aren't arrogant, just way too mature for their ages.

Another problem arises when Lucy refuses to wear the school appointed skirts. She prefers pants, or dresses. Never skirts. The headmaster nearly calls their parents when her siblings storm into his office. Peter demands to know why Lucy is being punished for wearing clothes, and why he did not send for him. The headmaster explains that he is not her father and Peter rebuffs him by explaining that his father has put him in charge of his siblings if any problems arose. He reminds him of the letter sent to him explaining such matters. Edmund pulls out the handbook and explains to the headmaster that the rules do not say that girls are not allowed to wear pants. The headmaster calmly explains that the list of supplies sent to them specified black, tan or grey skirts for girls, and black, tan or grey pants for boys. Edmund then points out that the rules do not forbid girls from wearing pants or boys from wearing skirts or dresses. He then calmly suggests that he drop the matter or Lucy will spend the term walking around school without bottoms, as the rules do not forbid that either. Citing that they were told they had to purchase the uniforms, but the rules do not explicitly say they had to wear them. The headmaster does not know if he is annoyed or impressed at the loopholes Edmund finds. He drops the matter, and it is never addressed again.

All the Pevensie’s take up a sport or two. All of them take up fencing, aside from Susan. She took up archery. Peter and Lucy take up swimming. Edmund joins the debate and chess teams. And Susan and Lucy both excel in ballroom dance. Susan doesn’t even try out for the archery team. She’s just in the courtyard watching the team practice with Ed and criticizes their technique. The captain of the team overhears her and challenges her to do better. She smiles at the boy, saying she does not want to embarrass them. They laugh and vaguely insult her intelligence and Susan just looks at her younger brother and he smirks. He stands and holds out his hand, addressing her as “my Lady”. The team laughs and Susan takes the captain’s bow, gets a feel for the weight, and then requests a full quiver. Ed stands to the side and comments, “You asked for it.” She hits the bullseye on every target. The captain has the audacity to say, “lucky shot” So Susan shrugs. There’s a target that’s moving and she nocks another bow and hits the bullseye without even looking. She then hands the captain back his bow and walks away with Ed. She finds the captain’s pin on her desk the next morning.

The rumor goes around that Peter prefers to be called “Sir”. While he’s sitting in the courtyard with his siblings, a group of older boys walk up to him, one calling him “Sir Peter” in a mocking voice. Peter puts down his book and calmly answers with “yes sir.” He stands to look the boy in the eye, and as the boys spout insults. Susan can see that Peter and Ed are getting angry, so she stands between Peter and the boys, placing her hand on his chest and tells him to walk away. It isn’t until one of the boys pushes Susan away that Peter loses his temper. Edmund catches her before she hits the ground. The biggest boy grabs Peter’s collar and immediately regrets it as his shoulder promptly leaves its socket. The other boys come at him, and he side steps. All four of them are on the ground with various injuries and Peter didn’t throw a single punch. He received detention and attended with pride. No one ever touched Susan again.

The professors are surprised when the Pevensies join the student council and the school seems to run better than it has in its history. Edmund works mostly behind the scenes, but people usually come to him or Susan with their problems. They think Peter is scary, but Ed reminds them that they voted him in as the head of the council. He tells them to actually talk to him, he’s not as stoic as he seems.

The adults notice that the Pevensies do not dress as children usually do during their off hours. Instead of t-shirts and shorts and hoodies, the boys are always in slacks and a pressed shirt, sometimes with a tie. Susan enjoys sun dresses and flowy skirts and blouses. Lucy is always wearing boots and pants with a loose shirt. She is not like any of the other girls they’ve taught.

They have all grown taller in the three years they’ve attended the school after the war. With Peter now seventeen, standing at six foot three. Susan is fifteen and almost as tall as Ed at five foot eight. Edmund has always been tall and skinny for his age, but now at fourteen, he stands at five foot ten. Lucy is the one who has grown most noticeably, at thirteen she stands at five foot six.

Peter writes to his father, asking for money for when they go to the shops on the weekends. He receives a reply, saying he ought not ask for silly things. He learns that he can open an account at the local bank. He never asks his father for anything ever again. Even after he left school, anything his siblings wanted, he provided for them.

Lucy asked Peter why he refuses to write to their father. Peter looks at her and, in all seriousness, he replies “he treats me like a boy”. She then goes to Susan, and she tells her that she suspects their father is jealous that someone taught Peter and Edmund to be better men before he could.

During a weekend outing, the school chaperones notice Edmund and Lucy sitting at a table playing chess. He watches as Susan and Peter are perusing the shops. But instead of buying games and toys and candies, they are in a bookstore. Peter comes out carrying Susan’s books and they join Ed and Lucy at the table. Susan cracks open a book and Peter lights his pipe. They don’t know where he got it, but no one dares take it from him. When Lucy and Ed came to yet another stalemate, Susan put her book away and took Lucy to a dress shop. Peter put away his pipe and followed. Ed just reset the chess board. They are indeed more grown up than they seem.

A few girls pluck up the courage to ask Peter to be their date to the ball, but he tells them that he is already spoken for. No one is surprised when it is Susan on his arm at the dance. Yet, no one expects it when Lucy and Edmund join the two on the dance floor and dance the waltz as if they’ve been doing it for far longer than they’ve been alive. They are surprised, however, when Peter and Edmund extend their hands to their teachers to dance the cotillion. They are accepted.

Many professors have gotten used to Peter watching the courtyard during class. But no one could have prepared themselves for Peter suddenly standing and letting out what sounded like a growl before speeding out of the classroom. Many people knew the look in his eye and followed him to the courtyard where Lucy was. There was a new student in Lucy’s year. He hadn’t learned the rules of the school, or proper etiquette for that matter. Lucy had started to be more like Susan. Gentler. Lucy opted not to fight when she could avoid it. Sometimes she couldn’t avoid it. This boy had tried to touch her inappropriately and got punched in the stomach. But he was bigger than Lucy and had backed her against a tree. He didn’t get much further as he was pulled off her and a fist met his face. But this one was bigger. Stronger. He was then pulled by his collar and lifted against the wall by the absolute beast of a man he had never seen before. No one had seen him before. All he heard was “Peter” before he was dropped. His knees gave out and he looked up from the ground to see Peter standing before him, chest heaving. “Apologize.” Came the low growl. There was a small, slender hand on his chest. He supposed that was all that was keeping him from probably dying. He thanked every god he could think of. He was then heaved from the ground by his blazer and made to look Lucy in the face. This hand was different, but the fury was the same. “I believe there is something you need to say.” Came Edmunds voice.

“I’m sorry.” He said, terrified. Lucy just looked back and said, “I supposed you will learn to keep your hands to yourself.” Before Edmund let him go. Peter was still growling. He got off too easy in his book. None of the teachers said anything, noticing how the one hand from Susan kept Peter at bay, they kept that information in their proverbial back pockets. That boy never touched anyone again.

For fear of the beast that was the Pevensie siblings.

You will listen to me. Listen! The Brethren will still be looking here, to us, to the Black Pearl to lead. And what will they see? Frightened bilge rats aboard a derelict ship? No. No, they will see free men! And freedom! And what the enemy will see is the flash of our cannons. They will hear the ring of our swords, and they will know what we can do! By the sweat of our brows, and the strength of our backs…and the courage of our hearts! Gentlemen! Hoist the colors.

PERIOD DRAMA APPRECIATION WEEK Day 2: Favorite Character ↳ KEIRA KNIGHTLEY as ELIZABETH SWANN

3rd of October: Durin's Day / An Treasamh Latha dhen Dàmhair: Là Dhurin

English Translation:

In the early years after the dragon came, the Dwarves of Erebor set their eyes on survival. Much was lost to them during this time, cultural and religious customs they failed to sustain in their wanderings.

As soon as they had homes once again, mines to work in and forges to fire, Thorin looked to these things for the final missing piece in their lives. His nephews, growing fast, had never experienced Durin's Day in any way other than that of the Blue Mountains.

He heard Erebor in their speech, saw it in the style of their clothes, and even in the weapons they favoured, but so much of his nephews' cultural references lay elsewhere. He wished for them to understand Durin's Day through the eyes of their own culture.

Thus, ten years since Erebor had seen its last Durin's Day, her people put on a feast in Thorin's Halls the like of which was rarely seen. They worked tirelessly to have everything right: musicians woke up old ballads, bakers brought back old delicacies, and the elders gathered to pass their folktales onto the new generations. The exiles.

Another wound was healed that night, another wrong put right. Thorin watched over the festivities as Fili and Kili learnt how to sing a traditional Erebor hymn and thought of his own childhood.

Finally, everyone came together on the stone slopes before the gates of their halls to watch the last vestiges of the sunset fade from the sky behind them and the autumn moon rise in the eastern horizon. For a precious few minutes, both lights lingered together, before the sun was overcome at last.

Thorin stood with his arm around Dis and the boys by their legs, wide-eyed with their first Durin's Day beads braided carefully in their hair. They were't likely to sleep tonight.

The towering stature of the Misty Mountains blocked it from view, but Thorin knew - could see - beyond their white peaks lay Erebor, bathed in the silver light of Durin's moon.

Maybe he started it, or perhaps they all did so at the same time, but slowly and quietly, their low Dwarven voices rose into the sky with a song of home-sickness on their lips. A mourning song.

Oh, far over the Misty Mountains cold...

Scottish Gaelic Translation:

Anns na bliadhnaichean a chaidh seachad as dèidh don nathair-sgiathach tighinn, thoirt na Troichean Erebor an sùilean air mairsinneach. Chaill iad tòrr tron àm seo, nòsan cultarach is creideamh nach do chùm iad beò anns am fuadan aca.

Cho luath ‘s a bha dachaighean aca a-rithist, mèinnean a bhith ag obair anns agus ceàrdaichean a chuir teinne anns, chaidh Thòrin don rudan seo a’ sireach am pìos mu dheireadh air fhàgail bho am beathannan sa Bheinn Ònaranach. A’ fàs cho àrd a-nist, cha robh na mic a pheathar eòlach idir air an dòigh dhen Là Dhurin ach an dòigh na Beanntan Ghorm.

Chuala e Erebor san dòigh-bhruidhinn aca, san stoidhle aodach, eadhon san arm a bha an dithis measail air. Ach leis na rudan beaga, chunnaic e gun robh sin a’ tighinn bho àitichean eile. Bha e airson ‘s gum biodh iad a’ tuigsinn Là Dhurin tron shùilean an cultar aca fhèin.

Air an adhbhar sin, deich bliadhna seach gun do chunnaic Erebor an Là Dhurin mu dheireadh, chuir an t-sluaigh aice seòin air dòigh nach fhaca iad gu tric anns na Tallachan Thòrin. Dh’obraich iad gu cruaidh airson a h-uile rud a bhith ceart: dh’èirich ceòladairean seann balantan, rinn bèicearan seann biadh fìnealta, agus chruinneach na daoine aosmhor ri chèile airson am beul-aithris aca a thoirt don ghinealaichean ùra. Na fògraich.

Shlànaich gort eile an oidhche sin, rud eile a chuir ceart. Choimhead Thòrin air an subhachas mar a dh’ionnsaich Fìli is Kìli laoidh traidiseanta Erebor a sheinn agus smaointeach e air na làithean anns an robh e fhèin beag.

Mu dheireadh thall, thàinig a h-uile duine ri chèile a-mach air na slèibhtean mu bheul an geata nan tallachan. Choimhead iad air dol fodha na grèine san speur air an cùlaibh, an solas a’ dol às beag air bheag. Agus gealach an foghair a’ tighinn suas san fàire Ear. Airson beagan mionaidean prìseil, dh’fhuirich an dà sholas anns an speur ri chèile mus do dh’fhalbh a’ ghrian.

Sheas Thòrin le a gàirdean timcheall a phiuthar, Dìs, agus na bhalaich ri taobh nan casan. Bha na sùilean drileach aca a’ coimhead mòr, agus bha a’ chiad grìogagan Là Dhurin a bh’ aca air pleatach anns am falt. Cha bhiodh e comasach gun cadail iad a-nochd.

Cha b’ urrainn dha a’ faicinn tro na Beanntan Àird a’ Cheò, ach bha fios aige gun robh Erebor air a seasamh dìreach thar air na mullaichean gheala, lannrach anns an t-solas ghealach Dhurin.

Is docha gun do thoiseach esan e, no ‘s docha gun do rinn iad uile e aig an aon am, ach gu slaodach agus gu samhach, chaidh na guthan ìosal troiche dhan speur le òran chianalais air an bilean.

Ò thar na Beanntan Àird fhuar a’ Cheò...

I love how collectively The Hobbit fandom is so low key obsessed with Dís, even though she’s barely mentioned in the original text, and not even by name in the films.

She’s Bilbo’s bestie, she’s Thorin’s no-nonsense sister, she’s Fili and Kili’s loving mother, she’s a warrior, she’s a diplomat, she loves tea and music, she’s a wonderful dancer, she’s the queen of our hearts!

Between us we’ve made up this whole amazing, vibrant character with the crumbs we were given, and I just think that’s such a beautiful example of why I adore this community!

Two Wizards; One Soul

Little bit of dark!Dumbledore, and mostly rosy wording. I wrote this while listening to a Grindellore playlist on youtube, where I also posted this story. (I don't have the link right now but I will add it later). Nothing inappropriate!

_________________________________

Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald are the most powerful couple to have lived; the entire Wizarding World lay sprawled at their feet long before any ministry had the chance to act against them. No power remained to oppose either wizard alone, certainly not both.

They revelled in each other, drunk on power and the burning love shared between the two. No one else existed in their world, except them. Magic burst from their fingertips at a whim, and with the Deathly Hallows on their side, nothing could part Gellert and Albus, not even death.

Instead of revealing the world of magic, they infiltrated ever muggle powerhouse on earth, whether it be government or economies - it all fell to their influence, and without realising it, the world of the muggles came under the rule of Dumbledore and Grindelwald.

Many attempted to challenge them, rebellions that were crushed before the spark could become flame. But these new rulers were not cruel, only interested in peace and the end of fear. Any who disagreed possessed little power to do anything about it.

The two men, physically so different, bore twin souls, entwined by a searing, deadly love that overruled everything. Defied every possibility, spit in the face of doubt, and smothered the idea of the word impossible. Together, there was nothing Albus and Gellert could not achieve.

*

Dark eyes glittering, Dumbledore met the eyes of his lover. No. The eyes of his soulmate. What other word could describe them? From the moment they met, love blossomed with every word and stolen glance. He used to fear its burn, before he gave in and relished the power.

Grindelwald looked back at him, pale hair glinting in the moonlight. To anyone else, the apparent blankness of his face would put doubt in their mind; but Dumbledore, who knew him better than anyone, saw the bright fire flickering in his gaze. Those eyes, contrasting, clashing, but ultimately the same, spoke to Albus on a level nothing else could.

Magic crackled around them, the very air alive with their energy. Reflected in his soulmate's eyes, Albus saw themselves, and longed to stay there forever. The world could burn to ash, and he would not care, only if Gellert stayed too.

"My dear," came his voice, low, rough, laced with the chill of his homeland winds, yet still igniting fire in Albus' gut, "the day is fading."

Grappling for air to respond, Dumbledore unconciously stepped closer. "Time to go?"

Grindelwald's hand cupped his face, stroking over the trimmed beard for a moment. "Time to go."

With one last look at the smouldering ruins of MACUSA, they vanished, closer in embrace than any human could ever hope to be spiritually.

Their love, though hot and damaging to the touch, would change the world.

In fact, it already had.

Once I "made" a custom emoji for my mum by crudely drawing a hijab on it and now whenever she wants me to buy a coffee for her I get a text like this