Happy Hobbit Day! (I almost forgot and it's technically well into the 23rd where I am right now, but I haven't gone to bed yet since waking up on the 22nd, so we'll say it counts.)
I think if Boromir had survived he should be allowed special permissions to go into the Shire to see his friends in their native habitat after everything is over.
Transcription:
Shire border security guard: "Sir I don't think you can bring those out with you..."
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Really wanted to do an artistic rendition of this interaction, but I am absolutely not making my Grian design any taller lol
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"I think it's sweet," Steve says.
Robin wrinkles her nose. "Nothing about Eddie Munson is sweet. He's a sewer rat, at best. Or like twenty opossums in a trench coat."
"Opossums are cute."
"He probably has rabies."
"You say that about me all the time, so I guess that's good. We'll have rabies together."
"He gave you a rock."
"You give me rocks all the time," Steve says, rolling his eyes. He runs his thumb along the textured edge of the rock Eddie'd handed to him.
"Yeah, good rocks." Robin scoffs. "That one sucks."
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Lucifer will pick up his feathers that have fallen out & present them to you as a little present because humans are simple & he knows they love things like that.
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Apparently in my absence this post had its 1000-notes-iversary.
This time we get to see the culprit responsible for ruining our heroes' lives as well.
I've really missed you guys, by the way. I know I've said that already, but I'm serious. Once or twice this year I've been right on the brink of coming back but schedule stuff always keeps me from letting myself commit to that again, and that in turn has kept me from posting anything at all. But I've been in an unexpected drawing mood lately and so if I can get enough stuff to set up a queue we might pretend I'm back for a month or so sometime this year. Maybe. Hopefully. We'll see. No promises though. That's why I'm hiding this paragraph under the cut.
Transcription:
[Beren:] "Uhhh...barkeep...I think he's had enough now..."
[Tolkien:] "No, I don't think he has...!"
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the image of an exhausted commander fox, sitting in his office, throttling a datapad and yelling WHY IS MY JOB SPREADSHEETS?? before yowling like a space banshee and frisbeeing the thing through the open window with all the force of kamino-guaranteed strength bolstered by buereaucratic rage, where the datapad sails merrily and speedily for a longer distance than many would credit before impacting with concussive force against the surprisingly soft skull of emperor palpatine, gladhanding for the press in the courtyard of the senate below
the resulting explosion is caught on many cameras
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