#reoccupying

[noctlas332]

day three,,,, i would have had liked to work a bit more on this but alas, that did not happen,,

[wilsons-hotlittleprettyboymouth]

This is a pro-pigeon blog btw. And this is especially an anti-“disrespecting nature just because it’s seen as common/dirty/annoying” blog.

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

Watching 4sided Dive and seeing Liam talk about having synthetic memories of Orym's past is getting to me because like me!! I do that!! I have extremely specific, down-to-the-minute memories of Val's life with her folks before they passed and they're SO IMPORTANT to who she is as a person and to how she feels about so many things and I think it's just so wild that they exist for me alone. How fascinating, how lovely that is. How lonely.

[i-am-q]

New world order is not grad student union

Both are domestic terrorists

[allthegeopolitics]

In a move that has raised serious concerns about Israel’s long-term intentions for Gaza, the Israeli military has announced the creation of a new position: the “Chief Gaza Officer.” The role, far from being a temporary wartime measure, is designed to oversee “food, fuel and everyday life infrastructure” in the Gaza Strip for “years and years to come”, according to a senior military source speaking to YNET News. The appointment of a Brigadier General is seen as the establishment of a de facto permanent governor for Gaza, a development that has sparked fears that Israel is planning to reoccupy the coastal enclave indefinitely, potentially completing the ethnic cleansing campaign that began during the Nakba of 1948, when 750,000 Palestinians – three quarters of Mandate Palestine’s population – were expelled from their villages.

Continue Reading.

[ferociouslycreativemystery]

Hermitism is no longer a viable career path because they know I would become too powerful if I was allowed to follow my true nature

[shellxrls]

i need to be sarah’s cutesy sabrina carpenter espresso baby best friend who fucks her on the dl and also fucking her brother🤫

a/n: anon u ate with this ask cuz i love this song soo much, and i loveee the idea of rafe being beyond pussy whipped all for his gf to be more in love w his sister than him.

warnings: male receiving oral (mxf), cum swallowing, female receiving oral (fxf), cheating, NO INCEST at all they fuck at completely separate times.

🍒🍒 🍒

you’d often find yourself one of two places on the daily, ironically they were both situated in the same house: laying prey to the skilled fingers of sarah cameron in a fuzzy orgasm-drunk haze, or clinging all cutesy onto rafe cameron’s arm as he works away in his office — maybe sucking his dick under the desk if you were painfully eager.

at current moment, you were coddled next to rafe, pointing at an assortment of glittery bags on your phone screen and singling out the ones you wanted the most — or rather, the ones you didn’t want, considering the order you were about to place was essentially the bulk of the entire website.

“rafee, card please,” you tap him on the shoulder and urge him to rummage through his wallet, pulling out a black card before handing it to you and briefly glancing at your cart as you completed the transaction.

“gonna return the favour for me baby?” he mutters distractedly, eyeing some documents but letting his left hand wander to your thigh.

“course rafe, just wish you weren’t working all the time,” you pout, dragging his hand further into the crease of your thighs and rocking slightly on the chair, “otherwise i could return it now.”

he stills, dropping his pen and rubbing out a crease on his forehead with his free hand before turning to you, “mhm, under the desk princess, i can take a quick break.”

you beam, having successfully captured his attention, and crawl beneath him to begin unzipping his work slacks.

eager-mouthed you attempt to swallow him entirely on your first suck, lubing his entire shaft as tendrils of saliva dripped from your open mouth all the way down to his balls, stringing messily.

“fuck that’s good, now what do you say?”

“thank you rafe,” you force out through your stuffed mouth, eyes glimmering up at him in cat-like excitement while he looked down on you with nothing short of hypnotism, eyes glazed over with want.

it’s not long before he’s cumming down you’re throat in spurts, fisting your hair to force your head down further and making you swallow it so his office isn’t left messy.

he taps your cheek once he finishes, murmuring something about how good you did before quickly being reoccupied with his documents, sending you out with a firm slap on your ass lest you distract him any further.

you find yourself easily wondering into sarah’s bedroom, not bothering to knock and diving straight down onto her bed next to her, “was rafe boring you?” she questions with an edge of sarcasm.

you swallow, slightly guilty considering you did come in here to get release after sucking rafe off left you painfully wet, “something like that,” you trail off for a second before redirecting the conversation, “and anyways, i just missed you, haven’t seen my girl in a while.”

she smiles at that, leaning over you and pushing you into the bed frame with a kiss, her lips were always much sweeter than rafe’s, you’d always end up borderline inhaling off the flavoured chapstick she so regularly applies.

“missed you too,” she grins against your mouth, wasting no time in swiftly removing her shirt, then yours too.

kissing down your clavicle, she grabs the buckle of your jeans and pulls you onto her, humping you slightly against her leg.

you keen into the air, clinging onto one of her hands and bucking you body back into her, “shit sarah.”

she laughs lightly, the sound creating a hum against your pelvis while she works off your pants and leaves you naked underneath her, pussy glistening in her face

“you really did miss me huh?” she bites her lip almost awestruck and meets eyes with you before nudging her nose into your clit, cashing the nerves to twitch against her face.

she laps at your soaking entrance slowly, nose bumping your clit with every lick and making you squirm underneath her, your stomach pulsing in drawn out pleasure.

“mmh please sare — more,” you whimper, pushing your hips outward and forcing her face in deeper, tongue probing at your hole while she introduces two fingers to your clit in tight circles.

she tongue fucks you for a while before moving back onto your clit, sucking on the nerves and redirecting her two fingers inside of you, curling aggressively while you mewled and your whole body tensed up.

when you finally cum she eagerly mouths it all, rising from between your legs hot in the face with her mouth and chin all dampened due to slick.

you giggle looking down at her, pulling on the strap of her bra so she could meet you with a kiss, all the while thinking about how pissed rafe would be if he ever found out.

🍒🍒 🍒

[chlorinecake]

A non con fanfiction? On sunghoon or jake

Btw love you're fanfics! Lots of lovee!🤍

cross my heart and hope to die

syn. Basically while your university hosts a school event, Jake convinces you to help him break into an abandoned frat house before fucking the living daylights out of you

pair. star student!fratboy!jake x gullible!fem!reader

warnings. swearing, guided f. masturbation, cum eating (?), tit play, hickey, petnames (angel, doll face), cnc themes, mild degrading and exhibition kink, light choking/slapping/hair pulling, unprotected sex (stay safe guys), creampie, not proofread

word count. 2.1k

Today marked the day of your university’s annual student and staff celebration, and as promised in the lengthy event criterion, would offer free refreshments, entertainment, awards, and most importantly, a place for everyone on campus to fit in.

Or at least… mostly everyone.

You and your university’s proudly dubbed star student and “spoiled brat,” Sim Jake, occupied yourselves with other plans for the evening.

To most people, Jake in a nutshell was someone who’s brain matched their pockets.

Not that you were particularly interested in Jake’s money or brilliance… you just simply found him attractive. Very attractive.

His strikingly sharp smile, almond brown eyes, perfect cupid's bow, olive skin, strong hands... you could go on for days about how beautiful he was to you.

Gosh, looking at him alone was like a wet dream.

So much so that you'd do basically anything just to be in his presence, despite your own impending bashfulness getting in the way.

And he noticed it. All of your fangirl tendencies...

Despite that, your relationship with Jake wasn't necessarily ideal: you basically just did whatever he asked of you, leading to the partial friendship you two now share.

Though, the only boundary Jake’s favors hadn’t passed yet was anything sexual, all the while one way or another, he planned to change that.

Now, you wish you could say this particular night was all his idea, but you knew deep down in your heart that you had every intent within your own gullible will to join him in his folly.

To give in.

“Hey, you almost done in there, doll face?,” Jake whispered from behind the halfway opened door to the dean’s office, extending his head to take a look down the hallways as if preparing to cross the street.

You two couldn’t risk getting caught.

Not in here, and not over this.

“Yeah, I.... I’m locking the drawer back now, just gimme a few more seconds,” you replied while focused on the task at hand, locking the dean’s desk drawer back and doing a quick check to make sure everything was in the same place you’d found it initially before leaving.

Everything except the key to your university’s former frat house, which had since five or so years ago become a vacant property of forgotten memories and potential.

Of course Jake thought to seek your help with getting the key, hoping that someday, he and his friends would be able to reoccupy the place.

“Alright, we’re good to go,” you said, meeting him at the door as you both ran down the left hall, a flight of stairs, along a few sidewalks, and onto the football field.

“The house should be a few more minutes from here,” Jake added, taking your hand in his to guide you, his touch practically sending electric waves to your heart.

It was starting to get dark quickly, and you weren't sure if the event was coming to an end or not, given how quiet everything suddenly became... but still, you were more focused on exploring anyways.

For better or worse, you were just too curious, too desperate for Jake’s attention.

Click.

You finally unlocked the door upon trying the three other keys you stole from the office, taking in the view of the place that looked as if it’d been kept clean over all these years, with an audacity to smell of pleasant florals, citrus, and pine.

“Hey, where’d you get that?,” you asked Jake, noticing the can of soda he sipped from, and the way his lips glimmered under the faint lighting.

“From the party… I must've been thirsty earlier and forgot I brought this with me,” he said, puppy eyes looking around before meeting you, “want some?”

“Uh, sure, thanks,” you said shyly, taking the soda can to sip, even though the fizz was a bit faded for some reason.

“Oh! Sorry, ____!,” he suddenly yelped, having nudged your hand to take the drink away and accidentally spilling some of the sparkling liquid all over the top you wore.

“Ahh,” you sighed quietly, feeling the cold and sugary drink stick to your skin, “it’s fine, Jake... there’s gotta be towels in here somewhere anyway.”

“Hey, maybe check upstairs, if there's a main bedroom, there should be some cloths in there,” Jake offered, going to discard the can as you did just as he said.

You found a room eventually, where hand towels with dainty cross embroidery at each corner laid on the bed. They stood out like a sore thumb considering the erotic playboy magazine covers hung up on either end of the headboard in gold picture frames.

Jake came back quickly, watching as you plopped yourself on the bed, your chest jiggling a bit with you’re movements as you wiped up your shirt.

He laid down beside you with a groan, yawning out of boredom more than tiredness, “Wonder what kind of shit went down in this room,” he though to himself before glancing back at you. “That’s not gonna work, you know? You’re gonna need to change your entire shirt at this point.”

“But… I don’t wanna risk getting caught by taking anything else, seeing how I’ve already messed up this nice towel,” you rationalized with him.

“Take off your shirt, angel,” Jake said in a husky voice, sitting up now on the bed to look at you better, his gaze practically undressing you itself, “you just look so uncomfortable with it on…”

Your nipples were hard thanks to the cold drink, so they poked through your outfit, just enough for him to get a good sneak peek.

There was something about the tone of his voice that made you feel different this time, though. Nervous.

“I’m fine… really,” you replied before continuing, “So what do you think about the frat house," you asked, still patting the wet spot of your shirt with the towel, ignoring his previous comment.

"Hmm… It's pretty nice... spacious... the condition isn’t too bad, so that means less work for me and the boys,” he answered, shamelessly staring at you, “plus, it already has everything we need in it.”

The place really was like a hidden resort house.

“Yeah… now that you mention it, I wouldn’t doubt they still have some soap in here, too. I really need to wash this stain out, anyway—”

Jake’s hands found your shoulder first, pushing you back first against the bed before straddling you, hooking the lower seam of your top with his fingers and pulling it up over your head.

“W-what’re you doing, Jake?” You stuttered, nervous as you laid half naked beneath him.

“What you obviously couldn’t do yourself,” he slithered, lips already meeting your sweet breasts, thanks to his little soda accident earlier.

You regretfully moaned, already feeling your core warm up at his actions. The effect he had on you was honestly a bit embarrassing.

“M-maybe we should go back downstairs-”

“But you don’t want to…” he whispered against your skin as he left a trail of kisses all over your chest.

“J-Jake, this isn’t why I came here with you-”

“You know how much I like it when you do as I say, angel... now I just need you to keep being a good girl for me, okay?”

“Jake, stop-” you whined, feeling as his hands toyed with your panties.

“Why? It’s not like you haven’t been dying for me to touch you like this,” he grinned, looking up at you with the sluttiest eyes as his hand sat just above the wet spot of your core.

He snickered to himself, “You want this, don't you?”

His hand harshly smacked the tender skin of your inner thigh, a loud sound filling the room as your body flinched.

“Yes,” you yelped in discomfort, biting your lip to hold back any tears.

“So why are you telling me to stop?”

“I was… I don’t…,” your mind was getting fuzzy, chest starting to heave as you struggled to think with his finger circling your clothed clit.

What had gotten into him?

“You were cold because I spilled my drink on you, and now I’m helping you warm up again,” he smiled, mouth connecting with your neck as he continued to suck relentlessly, skillfully teasing your heat as he marked you, “Right, ____?”

“Jake,” you whined, arching your back once you felt his fingers apply pressure.

“Shhh,” he cooed, pulling down your bottoms the rest of the way and spreading your legs.

Leaning back, he finally spoke, “Touch yourself for me… and use two fingers so I can see how your pathetic little pussy struggles to take it.”

And of course, you did just that, already slick enough to put on a nice show for him.

He slapped your face when you closed your eyes, telling you to look at him the entire time.

You continued to pleasure yourself before him, a bit of moisture seeping from your aching hole when he slapped your tit this time, “Oh, you like the pain, don’t you slut? Can’t come without it, can you?”

“Nngh, no,” you answered for reasons you don’t understand, fucking yourself faster as you circled your hips, just as he snatched your wrist, licking the juices from your fingers.

“Up,” was all he said before taking you to the window, bending you over the sill.

“It’s getting stuffy in here, I say we let some air out, yeah?”

All you did was nod dumbly as his words, his belt buckle hitting the ground with a clink as his dick found your entrance, shoving past your slimy tightness with his lips kissing down your back.

His grunts sounded animalistic as he picked up the pace, his accent thick and strong with each curse that slipped from his mouth.

Jake’s hands found your neck, gripping tightly as his thrusts sped up, fucking you back and forth with you your head resting at the window.

“Look up slut, so everyone can see your cute little face tear up while I fuck you from behind… fuck you like my good little cock whore. Taking all of me so well— mmm.”

He pulled your hair by the roots, causing a loud moan to slip past your mouth as he stretched you out. “You’re such a slut for pain,” he grunted, “am I wrong, angel?”

You whimpered at his words, barely even present with how dizzy you felt, “you’re always righ— mghh, yes, right there...”

He pulled you from the window sill, shoving your face against the ground as he continued to thrust from behind, your tits shaking with his aggressive thrusts.

Picking you back up by the elbows, he pistoled into you, fluids trickling down your thighs and glistening against his pelvis as your poor thighs shook from all the pleasure, your weak moans dancing off the walls.

He thrusted in and out of you, fucking you into overstim as he chased him own high, taking pleasure in the way you squirmed whenever you felt his tongue against your skin.

His hands slid up your ribs before cupping your tits again, gripping at them relentlessly as his moans grew louder, breathier.

Needier.

Your hips bounced against his as you helped by fucking yourself on his cock, throwing your head back against his chest as you both came at the same time.

“Aww, fuck,” he groaned loudly, loosening his grip as you felt him paint your walls with his warm release.

Despite how out of breath both of you were, Jake picked you up and brought you to the bed, taking the same towels from earlier to clean you up before joining the empty spot beside you.

The three keys you borrowed from the dean's office were as good as misplaced by now, you and Jake both too tired to give a shut about looking for 'em now.

“You can’t tell anyone about this…," he started with a rasp voice, "nothing about tonight… not your friends, and especially not mine,” he said, pulling you close to him as you laid in only his jacket and your panties, Jake himself wearing just a t-shirt and jeans.

You looked into his face, that was unbelievably more striking with a post-sex glow.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” you answered softly, as both of you stared at the ceiling, hearing nothing more than your hearts beating and a few faint sounds from outside.

Still, the fact remained that you’d do anything for Jake… even sexual favors now.

“Thank you,” he whispered back, but you were already fast asleep, the final thought on his own mind being that the abandoned frat house would be a place just for the two of you now.

❊ Thank you all so much for reading this quick fic !! I honestly think it's kinda garbage, but I hope someone out there finds it enjoyable at least (probably gonna make a revised version of this for another member tho, we'll see...) !! Also, make sure to check out my masterlist for more reads like this ~

❊ [Perm] Taglist: @squoxle @ashgonedash @nikisdubblchococake @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33

[thebendsbyradiohead]

atp i'm just sticking around to hear if they'll ever mention the fact he immediately occupied macedonia after joining the axis powers ergo he wasn't just strongarmed into doing it bc of peer pressure from romania & greece, & then proceeded to deport 90% of our jewish population to treblinka while conveniently avoiding doing the same to the bulgarian jewish people & now being called "the savior of the jews" while cavorting with hitler lol

started listening to this historical true crime podcast abt the death of boris the third of bulgaria mid-ww2 but it's by these 2 former bbc journos & in the first ep they go to talk to his surviving children one of which is the unofficial king of bulgaria who lives in some palace near sofia

anw they take a taxi to get there & then they were like "can you imagine hopping in a cab in london & asking the driver to take you to buckingham palace??" & on the way there they kept saying the usual orientalist "eastern europe is scary & poor" stuff like "it's not your typical versailles palace fit for a king, it's more like a dilapidated junkyard" and "when we get there, the palace is undergoing renovations, all paid from king simeon's funds since he's not entitled to taxpayer's money" like won't somebody think of the imported german royals exiled by the communists!!! who will pay for their palaces if not the peasants living day by day on a 800 euro salary???

first of all, a) if anything YOU are the weird ones for making such a circus of monarchy in the year of our lord 2024, not everyone else for refusing to give them their hard-earned money, b) i cannot BELIEVE you got me defending bulgarians of all people & c) drop dead immediately you racist posh cunts

[ae-neon]

Two of A Kind (snippet)

Loosely Pride and Prejudice inspired.

Eris Vanserra crested the hill on his steed. It was rare for the prince to find himself with no immediate business to attend to and so, he had decided to make the trek from his post on the Summer border to the Ember Palace on his own. Had hoped to give himself enough time to sort through the tangle of thoughts and feelings he now faced.

Before him, the valley which housed the heart of the Autumn Court spread out. Sparkling lines of golden sunlight reflected off ripples in the water gardens, it’s edges bursting with greenery. Seven-foot-tall, white-feathered cranes dotted the landscape, hunting the tiny red dragons that darted about. And narrow stone bridges crossed between the handful of islets crowned by pavilions and weeping willows.

Ahead of the garden stood the Ember Palace, cradled to the East and North by jewel toned woods of oak, aspen, birch and maple. The palace was enormous: four storeys tall and sprawling with 3 000 rooms; built to bring every House of Autumn under the watchful eye of it’s Lord. There was no doubt it was a befitting capital, but Eris could not shake the pit in his gut which told him it was too big to be a home. That in this change of residence, something intangible would once again be lost forever.

He urged Windrunner forward into a gallop until they crossed the wide West Bridge and rode into the forecourt. The place was bustling, buzzing with servants carrying furniture and ornamentation into the building, all it’s windows and doors thrown wide open as more staff cleaned and decorated.

A familiar fae male, uniformed in the Palace staff’s beige vests, came forward to greet him, “Your Highness.”

“Has everyone else arrived?” Eris dismounted, entrusting the reigns to the man’s waiting hand.

“Yes, His Majesty called them to his study half an hour ago, though Her Majesty has not yet joined them.”

Eris took the stairs two at a time and slipped through a tall, open door as sails of white lace curtains billowed in the breeze. He waved a dismissive hand at the servants who had paused in their tasks to greet him, “Carry on, please.”

His own doubts aside, the palace was undeniably magnificent and Eris could admit his father’s decision to reoccupy it was the right one. Autumn needed them here. And, with a court as notoriously cutthroat as this, it was wisest to have it’s restless nobles where you could see them.

He removed his leather gloves and hooked his wrist behind his back, watching in idle fascination as chandeliers were mounted, busts dusted and lounging chairs unveiled. The tap of his polished boots fell under the movements and murmuring voices, but it was all much quieter than he’d imagined. The squawk and song of birds still managed to carry up from the gardens, down from the forests and echo through the halls. That, at least, felt familiar. The Forest House too, despite being a smaller castle nestled up in the mountains, had also always echoed with the nature that surrounded it.

Eris moved through the enormous building, passed busy kitchens and empty libraries, until he reached a crimson hallway in the North Wing. He had slowed his sure stride in this part of the palace, almost surprised by the intimacy of the portraits that lined the walls. In them, he and his brothers grew – from little boys who cradled puppies to proud men, each with a phoenix perched on their arm. In some they stood austere, in others they seemed to be caught in some innocuous moment; reading or playing at their mother’s feet.

He'd paused when his eye had caught on one in particular: Beron Vanserra standing tall with a hand on the shoulder of each of the two boys in front of him. Eris’ stomach twisted as his amber, fox eyes shifted between the two boys – their identical dimpled smiles, their wine coloured hair and the violet flames cupped in their hands. So alike, he could not even tell which of the two he was.

He turned at the sound of voices as two figures approached; his mother’s head servant, Silas, clucking around her. To anyone passing by, the sight of a servant so familiar with the Lady of Autumn might have set their hackles rising but those who knew the two understood they were in a constant balance of excitement and put on airs, and had been for centuries.

His mother was in a rare state of undress, adorned in a loose indigo shift and a robe made entirely of snow white crane feathers. The colour popped against her warm brown skin and glowing golden eyes – from head to toe, she was the picture of the Autumn Marshes and its people. Silas, a harpy fae, had a bead of sweat running from his tawny widow’s peak, no doubt from the inferno of heat the Lady Lorien was unintentionally radiating.

“Mother,” Eris greeted, lips tugging upwards and dimples creasing his lean face, “Do try not to cook Silas."

“Oh!” The heat was almost instantly gone and Eris let himself be pulled into a hug, taking in the scent of cinnamon and vanilla that wafted from her curling crimson hair. "My darling boy, you're finally here."

“Your Highness,” Silas gave a small bow in greeting and thanks.

Eris leaned back and cast a glance between the two, his eyebrows lifting at the heat that had been coming off his mother and the shifting of Silas’ eagle eyes, “Now, what news has the two of you so vexed?”

The two shared an unsubtle, conspiratorial glance.

“Silas...” Eris began but his mother wound her arm through his and tugged Eris along, waving a dismissal at her servant who took the opportunity to flee before he could be interrogated.

She led them to the heavy mahogany doors at the end of the hallway which creaked open at a wave of her hand. Eris felt her power reverberating through the very foundations of the palace and rippling outwards into the manicured gardens and wild forest beyond. It was clear that years of absence had taken it’s toll and his parents would need to hold a ceremony soon, to feed the land and in turn renew their connection to it. Between the upcoming court season – the first in 500 years – and a possible Hunting Rite, Eris could only imagine how wildly different Autumn was about to become.

The room beyond the doors was an airy space, it’s left dominated by a massive fireplace whose ochre flames were as familiar to Eris as his own.

At the centre of the room, four leather couches surrounded a table where Lucien and Marcel now played chess while Sebastian loomed over them, likely trying moderate the two notorious cheats.

To the right, Beron Vanserra sat at his desk, glancing above the rim of his glasses as Eris and Lady Lorien entered.

Eris glanced up to find Ash and Oak leaning against the railing of the upper loft, where their father kept a small library. They waved in unison.

As usual, Eris tried not to dwell on Apollo’s absence.

An ivory furred pup which had been asleep at Marcel’s feet popped it’s head up and hurried over. Eris bent down to lift the little creature up and cradle it against his chest as his mother floated towards the lounges, draping herself across an empty one with a loud sigh. It seemed whatever had been whispered between his mother and her butler was about to be revealed.

For a moment, united in mischief, no one spoke. Lady Lorien sighed again. Louder. Finally, Beron seemed to be at the end of whatever he was penning, set down his quill and addressed his wife, “Something the matter?”

“I have, just now, received word from cousin Edgar that Celeste Hugard is engaged to William Aisling.”

“A congratulations are in order then,” Marcel said dryly, still not risking lifting his eyes from the game.

Their mother ignored him, “It is a terrible shame. Miss Hugard is said to be the most handsome woman of the Court, and as the Hugard's only child, is to inherit a fortune.”

“And?” Beron cocked his head, his face as inscrutable as always. Their father was the opposite of his lady wife in everything from temperament to physical appearance. Beron favoured the East of Autumn: brown hair so dark it was almost black, evergreen eyes and the pallid tone and stoicism of someone who had been born under near constant cloud cover.

“And,” Lady Lorien sat up, flustered, “Well it is a waste, isn’t it? When we have five handsome boys with no lack of talent or manners among them?”

Eris almost laughed. Ash and Oak did laugh. Their father shot them a look, “If your assessment of their manners rings as true for their beauty and talent, then perhaps Celeste Hugard has made a prudent choice.”

“You are missing the point, my Lord.” Lorien Vanserra ploughed on, “As you’ve refused to host a ball here at the palace, the Hugard-Aislings will have the honour of throwing the first party of our new era – one which I will have to attend, and there be accosted on my failing to have any of the boys marry. And make no mistake, this humiliation will set a trend; if the handsomest woman at Court could so easily overlook a Vanserra then what of the second or third? Our boys will be made beggars, my Lord.”

Eris slid his gaze to his father, who seemed almost contemplative for a moment before the ghost of a smile graced his lips, “I see, then you will have to impress upon the court, before the Hugard-Aislings can, that the Lady Lorien is the handsomest woman at Court and that her sons are – in equal measure – ‘handsome boys with no lack of talent or manners among them’.”

She pouted, “Buy it is too late now to-"

Beron interrupted her with a hand on the papers piled on his desk, “The Aislings, the Darrows, Lady Birchwood, Lord Bellecourt, Sir and Lady Dechamp, the Ivermont Harwoods, the Davenport Harwoods, the Archerons, the Lavilleine Du Ponts, Celeste Hugard, all of the Rowans and that new boy from Lafon – the painter – have all already confirmed their attendance.”

*

Odd place to end, yes. But that's cause I'm mainly posting this snippet to bully myself into finally taking on the Neris pride and prejudice fic as an active project.

As with all my longer fic I will start posting it on ao3 when I get to 3 chapters.

Please do not mind the use of man/woman/people - I tried to use male and female and I gagged, sorry

Also, I don't know if my English is up to the task of this formal style but I'll try 🥲

[lookninjas]

So I was curious as to why exactly Russia was calling for the arrest of Estonian PM Kaja Kallas, and it turns out they're pissed off at her for taking down Soviet monuments in Estonia.

As a reminder, the Soviet Union invaded Estonia in 1939 as part of a joint operation with Nazi Germany for the two countries to divide Europe between them (the Molotov-Ribbentrof pact). They briefly lost control when Germany decided they could have all Europe, not just half, but reoccupied the Baltic nations as the war turned against the Nazis. Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania remained occupied by the USSR until 1991.

Just. The unmitigated gall of it. Claiming that the warrant is about her removing tributes to the "heroes" that "denazified" Estonia. Charging the leader of a sovereign nation with committing an offense against Russian laws, as though she's somehow subject to them.

If there was ever any doubt in you -- if ever for a second you thought that maybe the Russian government could be stopped from invading other countries by any means other than overwhelming force -- I need you really to think hard about what this means. That they're still acting like Estonia is their territory to occupy. That they think their laws apply to the leaders of other nations.

Russia will not stop until they are stopped. That's it. That's all.

[errantindy]

Can you imagine how haunting the Jedi Temple must be?

That thing has been assaulted multiple times, burned, half razed, picked over, built over, and reoccupied. I absolutely understand and support Luke putting his academy ANYWHERE ELSE…even Yavin which ain’t great either.

Because how could you put young, impressionable Force Sensitive children in cavernous space when they could easily touch the pillars, the floor, the furniture and FEEL the massacres?

Sure there’s ages and ages more of serenity and contemplation and happiness to fill the Temple…but those ghosts have to be there, and why would you choose to potentially traumatize a youngling if you had the chance not to?

[storiesbyrhi]

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence/some infrequent gore, swearing, animal death, no beta, death in childbirth (mentioned, not described), abusive parents, suicide, spiders/bugs, grief/mourning; light smut; warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: To build a home. 2888 words.

1986

When the temperature dropped and a near-constant fog hung low over Hawkins, you were glad, being more of a winter witch than summer. You stood on the peak of a hillside and looked over the vast plains surrounding the town. The mist made everything look ghostly and romantic.

The land had been returned to the descendants of the original Native American peoples who once lived there, but with no immediate plans to reoccupy the space, your new coven had been granted permission to make home on the condition you would oversee its protection.

For the moment, you were alone on the hill. Eddie was hiding from solar rays in the trailer, listening to the radio and writing in a journal he had recently started.

There was a lot to do before your sisters arrived and you wanted it all done by then. You wanted everything to be perfect. The first dwelling of a new coven would set the tone for centuries to come. It was time to build.

The advantages of being magically blessed were many, but you’d always thought enchanted seeds had to be right up there in the top ten. You’d had seven seeds soaking in seven jars over the past seven days.

You’d lined them up and filled them to halfway with moon water. In went a seed each, apple slices, and petals. In Ash’s jar went dahlia petals, while Hailey’s had peonies. Purple mums for Meg. Foxglove for Ev. Mel’s had snapdragons and lucky last, Kelsey’s was filled with delphinium.

Now, you’d fished each seed out and planted it where their cabins, cottages, and homes were to be.

“I plant these seeds,

Where homes will grow,

By moonlight

And good intentions.

In this time,

And in this place,

A coven new

Offers protection.”

You laid on the grass in the shade of an old sycamore tree. Closing your eyes, you let yourself melt into the natural world. Bones became tree roots. Blood swapped for mud. Total harmony. Infinite peace.

The air grew cooler and the shade expanded outwards. Darkness enveloped you and your body slowed as if you were in your final resting place. That’s how he found you; not asleep but not awake.

Eddie surveyed your work. The seeds had already sprouted, grew, and bloomed. Magical in their speed. He picked one of the snapdragon flowers and squeezed the base, like you’d shown him. It opened the flower’s mouth, a tiny floral puppet. Eddie smiled to himself.

You felt their heartbeats before you saw Eddie. Sitting up, you watched the deer and her fawn meander in from the forest. She’d looked at you, poised in question. What is he? Is he safe? Given a witch’s blessing, she let her baby approach Eddie.

He too had heard their heartbeats. Eddie had remained where he was, mindful not to scare them. When the fawn appeared at his feet, he slowly opened his hand to the animal and let it eat the snapdragon from his palm.

“You would know if it was poison, right?” he asked in a quiet voice. The fawn looked up at him, long eyelashes and soft whiskers.

Eddie turned to find you standing close behind him. You were getting very good at sneaking up on him.

“Hi,” he greeted.

“Making friends?”

Eddie nodded.

“Feeding my flowers to them?”

There was an overwhelming feeling that the moment was beautifully preordained – and really, knowing fate, it probably was.

Eddie turned back to the flowers. “I thought you said they would grow into homes?”

“They will. They just need some time alone with the moon… Shall we?” You held your hand out to Eddie.

…

While you appreciated Walmart’s late night hours, their range of Halloween costumes was less than ideal. You stared at the row of wigs for a while before drifting away in search of decorations. October was a good time to find homewares you’d use all year round.

You were shaking a snow globe filled with little black bats when Eddie appeared in front of you, holding up a vampire costume. “It comes with plastic teeth,” he pointed out. “And a cape,”

You snorted. “Is that your pick? Because generic vampire would be very meta of you.”

He smiled but shook his head. “I don’t think this would put the humans at ease,”

“Probably not. So… something more friendly?”

“Yes. More… normal,” he said in a way that made ‘normal’ sound taboo. Eddie’s gaze wandered from you over to the back corner of the store. He handed you the vampire costume then walked away without further explanation.

You frowned, watching him go. Looking down at the costume in your hands, an idea sprung to mind. The red cape. You returned to the wigs.

A little later, Eddie was waiting for you when you came out of the fitting room with a white dress. You glanced at the jeans and long-sleeved blue polo top he was holding.

“I need a cat,” he told you seriously. “The children in the toy aisle are…”

“You’re afraid of them?”

“No. I’m afraid I’ll eat them. Come. Restrain me if you must,” he announced dramatically, loudly. The Walmart employee at the fitting room door gave you a concerned look as Eddie grabbed your hand and dragged you away.

Both your endeavours were successful; Eddie found the necessary prop in the plush toy bin, and you raided the craft section. With a few other odds and ends in the basket, you were ready to head home, arriving at Forest Hills just before midnight.

Eddie carried the shopping inside, leaving you to unpack and get started on your project while he brewed tea for you. He had been practicing with flavour combinations and brewing times, constantly requesting feedback since he himself could not drink the tea without immediately throwing it back up. The best he could do was let it linger on his tongue and capture the taste in the few seconds before his dead mouth killed it.

“You should sleep soon,” he insisted, albeit softly.

You took the mug of tea he held out and smiled at him. “I will. I just want to organise this stuff,”

“Why are you making it? Could you not cast some sort of illusion spell? Or magically will all the pieces into the shapes you want?”

“I could. But where’s the Halloween spirit in that?”

Eddie nodded and began to go through his costume pieces. “Could you possibly spare a spell for a pair of my boots? They need to be brown, I believe,”

“Didn’t want to just buy some brown boots?”

His frown was bordering on pout. “I’d never wear them again.”

You laughed.  Eddie had been developing his own sense of style. If style was beat-up combat boots and a ratty denim jacket he probably stole from someone in the city. Consistently though, he wore a lot of black.

“I’ll work on it,” you agreed with a nod.

An hour later, when you kept pausing mid-sentence to yawn, Eddie whisked you off to bed, tucking you in and wishing you sweet dreams.

“You going to sleep too?” you asked, meaning ‘do you need the bat spell?’

“No, my love. I’m hungry,”

“Walmart kids wet your appetite?”

He chuckled, always amused when you made dark jokes. He kissed your forehead and watched you fall asleep, then left Hawkins in search of violence.

…

The next day, Eddie waited for the last of the light to leave the porch before he stirred. He’d spent hours curled up in one of the many nests you’d built for him around the trailer. The nest on the porch was as soft as his fur and perfectly positioned so he could sleep in the sun all day.

When night fell, cool and calm, he flew inside and found you in the bath. You said the words with your eyes closed, letting a human-shaped Eddie settle on the tiles.

“You’ve been gone for hours,”

“I was just outside. These may be the last fine days we see this year,”

“My baby sunshine bat,” you cooed with a smile, waking yourself up to look at him.

You had woken that morning to Eddie curled around you, satiated and happy. He asked to be battified, then disappeared outside. You’d spent the day working on your costume.

Eddie rested his chin on the edge of the bath, shamelessly raking his eyes over your body. “I miss you when I’m not near you,” he said suddenly.

“I thought you were just outside,”

“I was. Even then. Even sleeping. It’s too far.”

You held a hand up for him to take. Tangled fingers. A warm pulse against cold skin.

“Maybe we should stitch our bodies together,” you whispered.

Eddie’s lips curled into a devilish grin. “I could just bite down and never let you go,”

“I could cut you up into itty bitty pieces and consume you entirely,”

“You’re starting something you cannot finish,” Eddie warned, his eyes growing dark. He untangled one of your fingers and held it between his teeth.

“I’d let you eat me whole.”

Eddie dropped your hand abruptly, pulled you from the lukewarm bathwater, and had you wrapped around him like a koala before you even registered movement.

“I will reach my hand into my throat and tear down until I find what is left of my unbeating heart. I will serve it to you and you will feast and we will become one.” His voice was earnest and emphatic.

Teeth clenched, you smashed your forehead to his and pulled hard on his hair. Maybe you said what you needed him to do out loud, maybe he read your mind. Either way, you were facedown on a mattress within a second, Eddie’s teeth and tongue scraping and licking up the backs of your legs.

“I…” he started.

“Want…”

Words separated by kisses.

“To…”

By bites.

“Eat…”

Like a recited spell.

“All…”

Well timed magic.

“The…”

He was at your hips.

“Love…”

Pushing beneath you.

“Out of you.”

…

Little witch…

Little witch…

His voice was in your head.

In your dreams.

Then, real.

“Little witch, my love? You wanted to check on your flower houses before the night is through,” Eddie said. He was right. That had been the plan. But the sun had set, he’d taken you to bed, and you’d lost hours with him. When did you fall asleep?

Slowly, you crawled from bed and checked the time. Midnight had only just left you. Heavy, sluggish movements. Weighed down by an unscheduled nap. You flopped back onto the bed.

“Do you need help?” Eddie asked as he came to stand in front of you.

Pouting, you nodded.

You watched him collect fresh clothes, ruminating over what he wanted to see you in. Eddie pulled you by the ankles to the edge of the bed, hooking underwear on and sliding them up. Still foggy with sleep, you felt like you were still rolling through a dreamscape. Eddie worked slowly. Sensually. With tenderness. It almost brought you to tears.

With your shoes laced up, there was no reason left to delay. You twinkled your fingers at Eddie, asking to be lifted off the bed. He acquiesced, leading you out of the bedroom and through the trailer.

On the car ride to the new coven, with your Moody Midnight mix tape playing loud, you watched Eddie out of the corner of your eye. He wound down the window and glided his hand through the fall wind.

As the flowerbeds came into view, Eddie’s mouth dropped open and an expression of pure delight lit up his face. He was out of the car before you cut the engine.

The seedlings had gone. In their places, beautiful buildings set apart from each other with enough space to grow gardens and vegetable patches, yet close enough to wave through windows.

Kelsey’s cottage was the first on the street, a warm welcome with shutters the shade of delphinium blue. It seemed small, unassuming, but you knew as soon as she moved in, she would charm it so it grew bigger and bigger on the inside, never changing on the outside. Eventually, as the coven embraced new members, Kelsey would take on housemates, her little cabin becoming the heart of the sisterhood.

Across from the cottage were Ash and Hailey’s cute tiny homes, their dahlia and peonies growing strong out front already. Down the way sat Ev’s Victorian style house. It was grand and gothic, and undoubtedly filled with secret nooks and spaces that Ev would hide all sorts of weird things in. Both Meg and Mel had dwellings on the far side of the field. Meg’s thatched roof a bright purple, and Mel’s garden already sprouting with plants she could feed her turtle.

“This is… It feels…” Eddie didn’t know what to say. Truthfully, he couldn’t believe this type of magic was allowed. It seemed too immense, too obvious.

“I know,” you told him. “We don’t always build like this. But I want them to feel at home, you know? I want this all to feel… right.”

Eddie nodded, finally stopping his awestruck pacing, and focussing on you. “They will love it,” he assured you. “I love it… It’s…” Still, not a single adjective would form. He looked over the buildings again. “Wait… There is not… You have not grown a home for yourself?”

“For us,” you corrected.

“For us… Please don’t tell me you intend on dragging that trailer across town?” Eddie joked. Half joked. There was clear apprehension in his tone. A little fear in his eyes.

You laughed. “No. I don’t intend on doing that… It’s just, you know, we haven’t talked about what kind of home we want.”

He couldn’t maintain eye contact, turned back to the houses, watching them as if they were going to continue to grow. They wouldn’t, of course. Not with an audience.

You let Eddie ponder while you walked the perimeter of the field. The land the coven would care for extended far beyond the little neighbourhood you’d grown from petals, but the air was already crackling with magic. Out in the forest over the hill, a family of red foxes were jumping and playing. Bats swooped through the sky and fireflies carved patterns through the dark.

Eddie sat on the doorstep of Ev’s Victorian. He listened to your heartbeat. How, when other living things came close to you, their breathing synced to yours. Leaves twisted in your direction like you were the sun. The center of everything. Definitely his.

You were almost out of his eyeline, crouched down scratching the belly of a fox cub, when you went still. For a moment Eddie thought you’d sensed or seen danger, but quickly you were up and turned to him. “You do want a home, right?”

In an instant, he was in front of you, the breadth of the field nothing to him. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because. Like I said. We’ve never talked about it.”

Eddie’s brows pulled together and his expression so sharp it could have been mistaken as anger, rather than the abject confusion it was. “Everything I have ever said has been about you. Loving you. Getting this far,”

“Yes. Yeah. But logistically… Vampires are nomadic. And all the time taken from you. You don’t want to see how the world has changed?”

The foxes had gone, unnerved by the thing that wasn’t human or witch. The breeze had settled, the trees providing a windbreak. Eddie saw through your line of questioning, tracing it back to the niggle of anxious thought settling in your brain. His face softened, then the beginning of his trademark smirk.

Eddie threw himself onto his knees at your feet, twisting his hands in the layers of your long, black skirt. “I am bound to you. Where you are, is where I am.”

You couldn’t help but grin. His dramatics wouldn’t distract you though. Dropping to your knees you looked at him seriously. He laughed.

“Eddie. You have been trapped in Hawkins for a hundred years. I’m not going to be the next witch to keep you here,”

“You want to know what I desire, in the deep, dark, catacombs of my soul?”

It was rhetorical, but you nodded.

“What do you picture me having done between 1586 and… well, you? 250 years of stillness? No, my love. I have seen the world. I know what is out there. It may have changed, but it will change again and again. I don’t want the world. I want you. I want to know you when you’re happy. I want to see you build this coven. Grow plants. Heal human ailment and cast witch magic…” Eddie tipped his head to the side a little, cocky as ever. “Logistically we should consider blackout blinds and room for books, not international travel.”

You wore that glazed-over look, drunk on the articulation of Eddie’s love. “You want a library?” you asked, voice coming out in a dumb whisper. Eddie nodded. “Me too. Maybe two… One for fiction and one for non-fiction,”

“Maybe three. Fiction. Non-fiction. Then, one for grimoires and other craft books.”

The foxes watched on from burrow doors. They still didn’t know what he was, but as long as he was with you, they’d leave him be.

End Note: Thank you to @jo-harrington for, well, the cannibalism.

There is a short playlist linked in this, little witch's Moody Midnight mix tape. I hope you like it.

There are a lot of people on the tag list that I have no idea if they read this story anymore. Feedback and love are deeply appreciated. xo Rhi

P.S. I hope you love your witchy homes @vintagehellfire @courtingchaos @pastel-pillows @ghost-proofbaby @kookygranger @toomanyacorns

Fic Taglist:  @paranoidmunson  @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog @goth-cowgirl-03

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel @dashingdeb16 @cultish-corner

[whencyclopedia]

Paros

Paros is an island in the Cyclades group in the central Aegean. It is the third largest island of the Cyclades and its position on important sea routes between mainland Greece and the coast of Asia Minor made it an important centre from the early Bronze Age through to Roman times. The island was also famous for the high quality of its marble which became a popular material for sculptors and architects throughout antiquity.

Bronze Age Paros

First inhabited from c. 3200 BCE (or perhaps even earlier), important settlements from the Early Cycladic Period include those at Drios, Avyssos, Galana, Gremna, Kampos, and Plastiras. The relatively high level of culture in the early Bronze Age is attested by the wealth of decorated pottery finds and in Cycladic sculpture which produced elegant marble figures rendered in a minimalistic style.

At the island's capital Parikia (Paroikia) on the west coast the first indications of settlement date to the early 2nd millennium BCE and the area was continuously occupied through Minoan and Mycenaean times and settled by colonists from Attica c. 1000 BCE being occupied until around 700 BCE. On the north coast at Naoussa there was a major Mycenaean settlement which prospered in the 13th century BCE but was destroyed in c. 1200 BCE. Nevertheless, the site was reoccupied from the 10th century BCE and once again enjoyed a period of prosperity from the 9th to the mid-7th century BCE. Koukounaries on the east coast was also an important Mycenaean centre in the 13th and 12th centuries BCE and continued into the mid-7th century BCE. It was here at Koukounaries that the oldest temple on the island was built, the temple to Athena dating to c. 700 BCE and which survived into Classical times.

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[tanoraqui]

key elements of Crownless (the Young Aragorn show that lives in my head and heart) season 1:

(Note that I will play a little fast and loose with timelines and for the sake of a better story. And/or take ruthless advantage of canonical slow Dúnedain aging to spread the timeline out over several decades)

First episode(s) is Aragorn (age 21, functionally late teens) leaving Rivendell to start wandering the wilds with the Rangers. I would do Elrond & his people dirty and say that Aragorn has been kinda sheltered growing up, a little because Elves tend to baby Men, especially young Men, and mostly because everyone wanted to be sure Isildur’s heir was safe as darkness grew in the world, especially after his father was killed when he was 2.

So Aragorn starts with significant book smarts, homely peace smarts—historical knowledge, animal friendship, herblore, diplomacy skills, technical sword/knife/bow skills…but he doesn’t know the dirty fighting tricks that win a fight. His tracking, hunting, forest stealth, etc. skills…suck at first. He’s prone to freeze in urgent healing (or combat) situations, because he’s never done this on his own before—though he has a natural talent for the ‘calling people back from death’ thing we see in LotR.

(This gives Aragorn obvious skills to pick up that demonstrate his character growth as a leader, while also establishing from the start that his real talent in kingship is, always was, diplomacy, strength of character & connection with his people, literal and metaphorical healing. Also, weirdass plans, often based on things he read, with success resting on luck/prayer/hope more than any reasonable thing…including a willingness to trust strange new and/or sketchy people…and they work.)

Maybe eps 1-2 is a double-length episode: opens with newly widowed Gilraen arriving in distress with a toddler 18 years ago, then first half is mostly restless late teen!Estel in Rivendell, ending with Elrond revealing his true name, broken sword, time to go forth… Smash cut to Aragorn tripping in the forest and falling in a stream while 2 other baby Rangers laugh at him and whoever’s stuck training these new recruits sighs heavily. There’s a lot of “this is the new Chieftain of the Dúnedain, Isildur’s heir?”

Format: 22ep 44min monster of the week (like GOD INTENDED) focused on the newest young Rangers: Aragorn, Halbarad, Dúnawen (OC: “maiden of the west”, don’t @ me for naming), as they range throughout Eriador learning how to be badasses guarding the boundaries of civilization. Monsters include orcs, wargs, mortal bandits, trolls, giant spiders, a small ice wyvern that made its way to northern Dale, barrow-wrights, unhoused fëa, rival clans of Men or maybe Dwarves who are about to go to blood feud war…

…and a slowly mounting season plot of the trouble of 3 Nazgúl reoccupying Dol Goldur, after the White Council forced the “Necromancer” out 15ish years ago. (Riling up ghosts throughout the countryside? Something something themes of moving on from the past. Also, can’t go wrong with an episode in which heroes must confront their literal personal ghosts.)

Repeat cameos from Elrohir & Elladan, cousins of all Mannish Dúnedain (and kind of older brothers to Aragorn in particular.) Are they helping him? Are they harder on him than on the other new recruits? Are they good cop/bad cop-ing it?

Arwen! Meet briefly ep1 and/or she’s a key feature of midseason finale; return in season finale to be badass. “Tinúviel! Tinúviel!” scene in Lothlórien casts a hiccup in a fledgling romance between Aragorn and Dúnawen

All combinations of Aragorn/Halbarad/Dunawen ARE welcome, nay, encouraged. They’re functionally in college and they’re all hot, and constantly in near-death situations. I advise the writers to have fun. Bisexuality is free.

Gandalf introduction early, ep2? Probably also in finale (something of a large team-up).

Late season bottle episode, maybe just before a 2-parter finale, in which due to a thunderstorm/mudslide/cave-in incident, Aragorn, Halbarad and Dunawen are trapped in a cave/small series of caves with a random assortment of other travelers on the road west of Bree: a pair of Dwarvish merchants, a few men, 1 elf (journeying to the Havens to Sail?), and 1 hobbit, Mr. Drogo Baggins of Hobbiton, who was making a perilous journey to Bree and back in order to fetch his beloved, very pregnant wife a particular kind of cheese she was craving. No loss of air threat, but they’re stuck. Obviously getting Drogo home is of utmost importance (and everyone else needs to get home safe, too). Tempers run high! Only once the Junior Rangers sort out their late-season interpersonal drama can Aragorn rise to the occasion and organize/mediate this microcosm of Middle Earth’s populace to dig their way out of this cave.

Aragorn is exceptionally good at facing down Nazgúl and their weaponized despair because he has—indeed, he is, by name!—hope. This show is about hope first and teamwork second, and looking badass in a beautiful landscape while Howard Shore music swells third.

[s2 in notes]

[southeastasianhistories]

S. A. Ganapathy's date of birth is contested, with claims that he was born in 1912 refuted by a former colonial official who asserted that he was born in 1917. Ganapathy joined the Malayan Communist Party in 1939, fought with the Indian National Army during the Second World War, and was elected the President of the Pan Malayan Federation of Trade Unions in 1947, the first union party in Malaya and a significant threat to the British colonial powers that reoccupied the territory upon the end of the war. In 1949, in the midst of the Malayan Emergency, Ganapathy was charged with the illegal possession of a firearm (forbidden by Emergency laws) and sentenced to death by hanging. He was executed on 4 May 1949.

A. Ganapathy was a Malaysian milk trader who was arrested by Malaysian police in February 2021 to 'assist' them in their investigations of one of his brothers. While under police custody, he was repeatedly assaulted (with claims that the assaults included beatings with a rubber hose) necessitating the amputation of one of his legs and reports of kidney issues. Ganapathy passed away from his injuries in Selangor on 18 April 2021, leaving behind two children.