The thing about saying that the Middle Ages were either ‘bad’ or 'good’ is that you’re talking about a roughly thousand-year period encompassing Europe, the Byzantine Empire, and varying amounts of Asia and Africa depending on the scholar you ask. So much happened in that timeframe. Some people suffered terribly and some people lived full, happy lives. It’s impossible to generalise.
“The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much…”
“The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.”
- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring.
- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring.
grayskymorning: Patrick Janelle
“Lying there among the trees, despite a learned wariness towards anthropomorphism, I find it hard not…”
“Lying there among the trees, despite a learned wariness towards anthropomorphism, I find it hard not to imagine these arboreal relations in terms of tenderness, generosity and even love: the respectful distance of their shy crowns, the kissing branches that have pleached with one another, the unseen connections forged by root and hyphae between seemingly distant trees. I remember something Louis de Bernières has written about a relationship that endured into old age: “we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.” […] I think of good love as something that roots, not rots, over time, and of the hyphae that are weaving through the ground below me, reaching out through the soil in search of mergings.”
- Robert Macfarlane, Underland: A Deep Time Journey.
- Robert Macfarlane, Underland: A Deep Time Journey.
classic lit authors on ao3
Jane Austen: The slowburn writer to end all slowburn writers. Has a mild case of purple prose syndrome. Sets you up to think she’s using a really lame trope or cliche, but then pulls the old BITCH U THOUGHT. Gets in fights with commenters who completely miss the point of her work.
William Shakespeare: Where dick jokes meet feels. Recycles old plots that have been in the fandom for years, but always manages to put a new spin on it. That said, he’s better known for good character writing than good plots. Kind of problematic, but people love him anyway. Laughs at and encourages commenters who completely miss the point of his work.
The Brontë Sisters: Their fics get lots of comments but they never reply. They never leave author notes, either. They share an account, and there are talks of a collab fic coming soon. Write fics for OTPs of questionable healthiness and consent. Only ever write darkfic. Like, REALLY dark. …People are getting kind of worried about them.
Edgar Allan Poe: Also only ever writes darkfic, but at this point, people have moved past being worried about him and have just accepted that he’s weird, he’s morbid, and we love him. Channels his feelings about his ex into his writing. It results in really good stories but everyone’s sort of like, “…Dude.”
Charles Dickens: Trying to set the record for highest wordcount on ao3, and it shows.
Victor Hugo: Currently holds the record for highest wordcount on ao3.
Oscar Wilde: Only ever writes M/M. Has a BAD case of purple prose, but it’s worth it if you manage to get through. His stories are either hilarious or soul-crushing. Or somehow both. People love him but know better than to disagree with him publicly, lest he destroy you with one of his infamous subtweets.
L. Frank Baum: Wrote one really well-loved story that’s among the most famous in the fandom, and it’s literally all he’s known for, and it pisses him off. His popular story became a multichap against his will because it’s the only one of his stories anyone actually reads. He keeps trying to end it so he can work on other things, but always ends up coming back.
Arthur Conan Doyle: Feels L. Frank Baum’s pain. SO much.
James Joyce: Has fascinating ideas, but takes forEVER to get to the point in his stories. Also a stoner, and it shows.
Lousia May Alcott: Writes stories for her unpopular OTP (that’s a NOTP for most of the fandom) and breaks up everyone’s favorite ships, mainly out of spite. Also kills everyone’s favorite characters, less so out of spite.
Mary Shelley: Writes incredible stories, but publishes under her boyfriend’s account because she’s banned from ao3. …Again.
“The archaeology of grief is not ordered. It is more like earth under a spade, turning up things you…”
“The archaeology of grief is not ordered. It is more like earth under a spade, turning up things you had forgotten. Surprising things come to light: not simply memories, but states of mind, emotions, older ways of seeing the world.”
- Helen Macdonald, H is for Hawk.
- Helen Macdonald, H is for Hawk.
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kryptonians: Tumblr’s one true talent is making me sick of things I’ve never seen or read or heard.
Tumblr’s one true talent is making me sick of things I’ve never seen or read or heard.
“One story in particular, about a sleeping lord and his army. There was a king, that’s what the poet…”
“One story in particular, about a sleeping lord and his army. There was a king, that’s what the poet had told Sarah one afternoon as he painted by the streams. A Welsh king and his army driven into the hills by Edward I. Beaten, but not killed and not captured, even though no one ever saw him or his army again. That, the poet had explained, was because they’d never come back from those hills. Thousands of men swallowed within the muscles of earth that formed Wales’s natural defences against her invaders. And they were still there. At this point the poet had paused in his painting, placed his brush into a cloudy jar of water, and leant closer to Sarah’s listening face. His voice dropped, so quiet she could barely hear him over the running of the streams. Yes, he’d whispered, still there. In the hills, deep inside them, buried under the peat, heather, gorse, rowan, bog-cotton, stone, and soil. Asleep. Not dead. Asleep. An entire army and their king, sleeping in the hills, ready to wake and defend the country in its hour of need. The sleeping lord and his sleeping army is what the poet had called them and as he’d described them, Sarah saw them: a glimmering seam of armour, chain mail, and swords, just as she’d seen in her history books at school. A rare ore of sleeping men, embedded in the hearts of the hills, waiting.”
- Owen Sheers, Resistance.
- Owen Sheers, Resistance.
thebes: i made a quiz: which iconic fairytale lady are you? there are 20 possible results, with…
i made a quiz: which iconic fairytale lady are you?
there are 20 possible results, with characters both familiar and obscure: beauty from beauty and the beast, princess kaguya, snegurochka, cinderella, the nightingale from death and the nightingale, the little mermaid, sleeping beauty, baba yaga, the fairy godmother, the snow queen, thumbelina, the evil queen, snow white, little red riding hood, goldilocks, the goose girl, bluebeard’s bride, vasilisa the beautiful, rapunzel, and janet from tam lin.
please do reblog + tag with your results; thanks so much if you take it!