Category: the ring speaks

I thought of a thing. My brother made the thing. I regret everything.

miredinmiddleearth:

miredinmiddleearth:

miredinmiddleearth:

Me at the end of the semester.

Me at the beginning of the semester

Me in the middle of the semester.

miredinmiddleearth:

Actual picture of me trying to write a research paper.

miredinmiddleearth:

I think I scarred my roommate. Before I tell you how, it should be noted I can do a pretty good Gollum impression. Anyway, one night, about a week into sharing a dorm room, I fell asleep while the roommate stayed up on her phone. It was dark and quiet, nothing but the sound of my breathing. But suddenly, she heard something. A raspy, throaty voice that sounded possessed. From my bed she heard Gollum’s voice. It whispered “My precious” like a hiss in the air, then silence.

Apparently I can talk like Gollum in my sleep. Amazingly, she didn’t move out immediately, though I do think she needed to change her sheets afterwards.

miredinmiddleearth:

#tattoo regret

Girl, he’s two thousand years younger than you.

chaos-of-the-abyss:

miredinmiddleearth:

chaos-of-the-abyss:

miredinmiddleearth:

We interrupt your regular fandom-mixing blog for an actual book-related post. 

He was busy brushing the knots out of his beautiful golden hair.

Bold of you to assume he would ever get knots in his hair.

I tried and have no refutation for this.

Do any of you ever think about the time in the movie when Aragorn got offended by a hobbit insulting his looks? Because I think about that a lot.

miredinmiddleearth:

I have a story to share, and I hope it makes you smile.

Once upon a time, when I was about three years old, my parents took me on a vacation to England. I’ve been told it was great. We saw the sights, did the standard touristy things, and one of our stops included the Wedgwood Factory. Alas, a three-year-old and Wedgwood is a terrible combination, so my dad was nice enough to wait with me outside while my mom explored the factory. 

My mom had a grand time, seeing what there was to see, but there came a point when she started to notice people drifting over to the windows. As more people wandered over, curiosity set in. What was all the fuss about? She reached the window just in time to see her husband and her daughter take their places, one on each side of a giant empty parking lot.

Father and daughter dramatically swung their arms to the right and sang, “Shall!” 

We swung our arms to the left. “We!” 

We flung our arms wide. “Dance?” 

We ran to the middle and proceeded to perform a fully choreographed rendition of “Shall We Dance” from The King and I that we’d just made up, full of passion and flair that would have rivaled a Broadway production. Father twirled his 3-year-old daughter. Daughter jumped into her father’s arms and sang with all her heart. The entire parking lot was ours, and we used every inch of it.

I should clarify, my father is NOT a dancer. At all. He is a master of the jerky dad moves and can’t straighten his limbs to save his soul, but he has energy, and he performed the role of daughter’s Broadway dance partner without any shame. 

By the time my mom finished up and came outside, we’d gone through a whole repertoire, from King and I to Oklahoma to Sound of Music. Mom came outside just as we finished up one of our songs. When we looked her way, she pointed up to the Factory.

Every single window on every single floor was packed with people, workers and customers alike, and they were all applauding with giant smiles on their faces. I’m told my father turned bright red.

Hope this made you smile, too. Thanks for the dance, Dad.

miredinmiddleearth:

But seriously, shout out to all the awesome dads out there.