The Lord of the Rings Meme | ten scenes (2/10)
Farewell to Lórien.
This is my favorite fucking scene.
If you’ve read the Silmarillion, you know who Fëanor was. If you don’t, Fëanor was the dickhead who created the Silmarils: three indescribably beautiful and magical jewels that contained the light and essence of the world before it became flawed. They were the catalyst for basically every important thing that happened in the First Age of Middle Earth.
It is thought that the inspiration for the Silmarils came to Fëanor from the sight of Galadriel’s shining, silver-gold hair.
He begged her three times for single strand of her beautiful hair. And every time, Galadriel refused him. Even when she was young, Galadriel’s ability to see into other’s hearts was very strong, and she knew that Fëanor was filled with nothing but fire and greed.
Fast forward to the end of the Third Age.
Gimli, visiting Lorien, is also struck by Galadriel’s beauty. During the scene where she’s passing out her parting gifts to the Fellowship, Galadriel stops empty-handed in front of Gimli, because she doesn’t know what to offer a Dwarf. Gimli tells her: no gold, no treasure… just a single strand of hair to remember her beauty by.
She gives him three. Three.
And this is why Gimli gets to be an Elf Friend, people. Because Galadriel looks at him and thinks he deserves what she refused the greatest Elf who ever lived—- and then twice that. And because he has no idea of the significance of what she’s just given him, but he’s going to treasure it the rest of his life anyway.
Just look at that smile on Legolas’s face in the last panel. He gets it. He knows the backstory. And I’m pretty sure this is the moment he reconsiders whether Elves and Dwarves can’t be friends after all.
Everyone look at this great fucking post
THIS IS SO SAD
My little brother got into outer space and stuff so my step-mom bought him a place mat with all the planets on it. When I first saw it, I was upset, because it was newer and so Pluto wasn’t labeled. I was about to say something when I noticed something…
Pluto is there.
The artist remembered Pluto.
Guys…
The artist drew Pluto crying.
(Source: rubywhiterabbit)
i swear people get 500 times cuter when they talk about what they’re passionate about
unless its hitler
then it’s only nein times cuter
i am done
(Source: matsuis)
DO
NOT
SPEAK
TO ME
WHEN
I HAVE
HEADPHONES
ON
JESUS
CHRIST
1926. If Harry Potter Was An Anime.
I’ll always reblog it when I see it because this is the COOLEST THING I EVER SAW!
i would watch the shit out of this
(Source: reddit.com)
This really bothers me.
(Source: cineraria)
(Source: whamboombamm)
so this happened.
HAHAAHAHA Oh my god.
HEEEEEYYYYY SEXY LEG-OLAS.
Shark Chunks: Sneezing
I wish I could say something when people sneeze.
Not, “Bless You.”I like to say “achoo” back at them, but “gesundheit” is always an option.
I’ve been experimenting with saying Zune Tight at people….
It was there, watching the endless flow of Goombas pouring from the copper green pipe into the pit below that Mario realized he was truly no different. How many times had he died in such pits? And for what?
The Goombas were, in their own way, a pure form of himself. They were spawned for Bowser, they died for Bowser. By the thousands they died, marching onward down the green slope of life toward death. So do we all, thought the plumber. Reflecting on his adventures in 8, then 16 bits, Mario was forced to admit in the face of unending Goomba suicide that he too was but a lemming, controlled by who knows what child or grown player. His life was not his own. It never was.
And so, stomping the nearest monster as he had so many times before, Mario stepped off the pipe and toward that Abyss. An Abyss he’d jumped adeptly in his quest to save the princess. To save her from what? She’d been taken so many times and by then, Mario found himself disgusted by the thought of her. Vaginal walls stretched by the turtle beast’s thorny cock. She hadn’t worn white since he found her that first time, long ago in Castle 8. She wore pink now, a girly color to the programmers who endowed her with depthless beauty, but to Mario and Luigi, Roman Catholics, it was only a reminder of her impurity. Her beauty a lie covering the spent womb of a woman who’d borne 7 Koopalings and Bowser Jr. Spent both in mind and body, what was he trying to save?
Another step toward the abyss. Question blocks around him. Questions- Possibilities. There were so few. This one makes you larger and this one makes you small. This one makes you invincible, for a time. Ha, so short a time he laughed to himself. And the star, that vibrant drug he ingested greedily every time it came before him- No more. Did it stop the flow of lava? Did the fire he spat from chewing the spicy flowers do anything to burn away the emptiness within him? What a fucking waste.
He stood at the edge of the pit. Bottomless, infinite. How many times had he died? How few times had he ever truly lived to appreciate the backgrounds, to fly with whistling P-Wing over the anthropomorphic hills? It was not regret that cursed Mario, it was the knowledge of all he’d accomplished. Subcon in ‘88. The sewers where he fought his brother over what, cards? A waste of his own family. Kong in ‘81. Climbing the corporate ladder, a tower under construction. So much violence in his life. So little reward to live for those killscreens and credits.
Mario jumped. He fell only for an instant it seemed, and then blackness wrapped itself around him, that old familiar warmth. His oldest friend was death. For they’d met so many times before. Lives counted down like a long lived cat, lives thrown away like levels left unfinished. His dream, to die, to throw away the few pixels life rendered him into. But like all dreams:
Mario woke up at the beginning of the level. He’d been saved, you see. No Nirvana for an Italian. No Buddha for a Catholic. No light at the end of the warp tube. The game is never over. You have no choice but to play again.
