#thank a phoenician

[kramlabs]

Repost and reminder

[johnychen]

Spaceship Earth On Ride Low Light 4K POV EPCOT Walt Disney World 2024 03 02

[its-hell]

I would like to know what your favorite color is :)

Purple :) if you hadn't guessed by theme

[moodymisty]

Author's note: Inspired by this post, and @kit-williams life changing addition

Relationships: Mortarion/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some NSFW references

“Care to play a game with me brother?”

Sanguinius looks to Guilliman with a smile that he does not return.

“Not particularly. Though I imagine this wasn’t actually a question.”

Sanguinius smiles wider, before pointing someone out among the crowd of bodies.

“Do you see that young lady over there, in the purple?” Guilliman spots you among the crowd of marines shuffling to return to their drop ships.

“Yes, and?” Sanguinius has the expression of a man who knows something his others do not, which fails to amuse Guilliman in the slightest.

“She is the lover of one of our brothers. Care to guess who?”

Guilliman gives him a look of surprise that is uncharacteristic of him. He had assumed you were a remembrancer, a navigator perhaps that looks oddly more human than they usually do.

“One of the Primarchs has taken a consort? That is-“ Sanguinus waves his hand and brushes off the man’s words.

“Unimportant. Guess.”

Guilliman sighs- displeased at being interrupted - before he looks back your way, and thinks.

“Vulkan.”

An obvious choice; Vulkan is both kindhearted to unaugmented humans and is frequently around baseline populations, but Sanguinius shakes his head.

“Fulgrim.”

He’s had wives before, though he thought the Phoenician swore off it because of heartbreak. Sanguinus shakes again.

“…Magnus?”

Guilliman's voice raises in a now genuinely questioning tone. The fabric of your robes is similar to that of the Thousand Sons, but Sanguinius shakes again- Guilliman expresses his distaste.

“Sanguinius this game is ridiculous and I-“

Guilliman stops when he sees Mortarion walk up to you, saving you from being lost in a sea of marines. He looks down at you with his discontent neutral expression, the decayed skin of his lips shifting with thinly veiled irritation. His limp grey hair falls in chunks around his face, and without his mask, he lets out a cough before composing himself.

He reaches a hand out to grab your arm, and you bite your lip. You say something Guilliman cannot hear nor read off your lips, but it’s something that visibly surprises the primarch.

Guilliman is stunned into silence before quickly stammering.

“That is not true. There is absolutely no-“

Sanguinius laughs, overjoyed to see Guilliman’s genuine shock.

“Oh I have proof brother. Besides their loving gazes in public eye, my Sanguinary Guard… Quite unfortunately seemed to pass by Mortarion's private quarters on the way to mine and overheard some disquieting things.

“Mortarion!”

There was the sound of wood slamming against the wall, the sound of flesh and skin. A woman’s screams echoed through the walls as more concerning sounds slipped from the safety of the primarch’s chambers.

“Mortarion! Please!”

Sanguinius is still disquieted by it. ‘Mortarion is torturing serfs’ his guards had thought and told him, before their helmet recordings had realized they greatly misunderstood.

An awkward conversation, that had been.

What a beautiful woman you were, smiling up at Mortarion with eyes so full of love Sanguinius hadn’t thought it possible. To think you love a man stuck in a cycle of disease so readily and fully.

And deeply, judging by the slamming his guards had overheard.

Guilliman looks a bit paler, watching Mortarion shove you forward to follow his men.

“I… must go. I would thank you for your time but given what I have learned today, I quite honestly don’t believe it deserves gratitude.”

Sanguinius laughs with his entire chest, patting Guilliman on the shoulder.

[opencommunion]

Hi opencommunion - you are one of my favourite Tumblrs and I love hearing about Lebanese history from you. You say you are antiPhoenicianist - I hope you would tell us more about it. Hope you're having a great day.

aww thanks, I love your blog too <3

Phoenicianism is a Lebanese ethnonationalist ideology that basically argues that Lebanese people are ethnically/culturally unrelated to (and, implicitly or explicitly, superior to) not only other Arabs but other Levantine peoples. It's a secular ideology but it's extremely Islamophobic, so it posits that Lebanese Christians (especially Maronites) are the "purest" Lebanese people with a direct line of descent from the Phoenicians, who are portrayed as an almost supernaturally heroic and advanced culture who were supplanted by savage Arabs from the south (you probably recognize this as a Zionist talking point; more on that later). It's a narrative of Lebanese history that originates from rich European-educated Lebanese and their French & English orientalist buddies, and it bears all the hallmarks of European ethnonationalism and scientific racism. In my experience ascribing to Phoenicianism is associated with class and it doesn't represent the majority of Lebanese Maronites, who do consider ourselves Arabs. My family are dyed-in-the-wool Maronites from Wadi Qadisha, the cradle of Maronite culture, and for as far back as our family histories go we've always described ourselves as Arabs, with religion being the only difference—and an unimportant difference—between us and our Druze and Muslim neighbors. Phoenicianism predates the Zionist occupation but it started to take shape around the same time as Zionism, and is based in the same core orientalist myth: that the ancient Levant was populated by strictly separate and homogenous ethnocultures with exclusive claim over portions of the land, which were later supplanted by Arab Muslim invaders who oppressed a tiny remaining local population. (In reality, of course, SWANA cultures have always been internally diverse and mutually influential, and "Arabization" in the Levant was characterized by organic cultural shifts among local populations, with Arab culture influencing and combining with local cultures rather than replacing them). So when the Zionist settler project arrived they found easy allies in Phoenicianism. This relationship eventually culminated with the settler state backing the fascist Lebanese Phalanges Party (Kataeb in Arabic, a direct translation of Falange, the Spanish fascist party that inspired its founders) in the Lebanese Civil War. Israel used the Phalanges as a proxy to fight the Palestinian resistance in Lebanon, and it was Phalangists who collaborated with IOF to carry out the Sabra and Shatila massacres. This is the cruelest and ugliest moment in Lebanon's history and Phoenicianism enabled it; Phoenicianism enabled the cognitive dissonance necessary for Lebanese to participate in the occupation's genocide against our siblings and act as footsoldiers for the European fascist agenda in our region. The Phalangists and Zionists lost the war but there is still a Phalangist presence in the Lebanese government, and Phoenicianism is unfortunately alive and well among the Lebanese right wing at home and in the diaspora

[whencyclopedia]

According to UNESCO, an estimated three million shipwrecks are scattered in the oceans’ deep canyons, trenches, and coral reefs and remain undiscovered. These shipwrecks preserve historical information and provide clues about how people lived in the past. The term ‘underwater cultural heritage’ refers to traces of human existence and activity found on ancient sunken ships or retrieved cargo such as bronze statues and priceless artworks. The Spanish treasure galleon, Nuestra Señora de Atocha, is the world’s most valuable shipwreck, estimated to be worth over USD 400 million. It was part of the Tierra Firme fleet of 28 ships bound for Spain from Cuba in 1622 and carried the Spanish Empire's wealth onboard – creamy pearls from Venezuela, glittering Colombian emeralds, and over 40 tons of gold and silver. The Atocha sailed into a hurricane off the coast of Key West, Florida, and sank. Its riches were discovered in 1985 by famed treasure hunter Mel Fisher (1922-1998). Thanks to virtual exhibitions and tours, you do not need diving skills to explore the oceans’ underwater cultural heritage. You can take a panoramic tour of Henry VIII of England’s (r. 1509-1547) favourite ship, the carrack Mary Rose, which sank in the English Channel during the Battle of the Solent on 19 July 1545. Want to see a 2,700-year-old Phoenician shipwreck submerged in the central Mediterranean? The virtual museum ‘Underwater Malta’ has a 3D model of the ship and app on Google Play. Fascinated to know what the wealth of the Spanish Empire looked like? Take a tour of Mel Fisher’s virtual treasures and the Atocha. There are countless virtual maritime museum displays, but let us take a look at five shipwrecks with interesting stories to tell.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Conversations on Love

Summary: You catch Fulgrim's attention and you both start talking about perfection.

Fulgrim/fem!Reader

Warnings: light angst and obsession

Word count: 1614

Author's note: he's so delulu, love him

Song: Depeche Mode - World in my eyes

You were one of many remembrancers who had benefited from Fulgrim's favor. A talented individual with a unique style. And yet there were many such talented people on the Emperor's Pride. Each one was determined to prove themselves and meet the Phoenician. How did you manage to do this?

Probably because you did not seek to meet him.

The Pride of Emperor kept a strict record of remembrancers. Not one of you sat idle. All your achievements were known to the leadership. Not to mention the desire to visit this or that hall. Or requests to meet Fulgrim. Of course, all the remembrancers expressed a desire to meet the primarch.

But not you. And in truth, you were surprised by this outcome. And in some ways, you even envied your colleagues. They are not afraid to take steps and are ready to try their luck in their endeavors. You did not consider yourself important enough to personally meet the primarch. Not to mention that you didn't want to distract him.

Besides, you are the remembrancer of the 28th expedition first and foremost. You must record the greatness of the entire Legion. The Space Marines, the soldiers, even the serfs. Each of them contributed to the Crusade. You were just finishing writing about the workers when you were scheduled to meet with the Primarch himself.

You did not feel any deep joy. Rather, a feeling of anxiety and tension. Lord Fulgrim was in the middle of cleaning Laeran. And you were sure that despite the Space Marines' assurances about the ease of the operation, it must have been difficult. But still, the Primarch decided to make time for you.

Perhaps to look into the eyes of a girl who decided that records of the work of cleaners were more important than an opus about the Phoenician. Right now, he was reading your notes. With an incredibly noble and refined, but still cold face. Only a raised eyebrow betrayed his surprise at your choice of topic.

“It’s a rather unusual topic, but I must admit your talent. However,” the man carefully places your notes on the table. You were one of the few remembrancers who still preferred paper. “You can use your skills in another field. Why don’t you write about the exploits of my sons?”

“Thank you for this honour. And yet,” you swallow, rubbing yourself under the beautiful violet gaze. “I’m sure other remembrancers can do a better job than I can. I’m much better at writing about simple, yet important, topics. The serfs make a huge contribution to the expedition. So do the Space Marines… Especially the Emperor’s Children! B-but…”

“But?”

Oh Terra, are you really going to refuse the Primarch? He will laugh at your choice. He probably already despises you, and you will soon be returning to your home world. But since you’ve already started, there is no point in stopping. If you’re going to disgrace yourself, then go all the way.

“I’m a little afraid of war. N-no, I’m downright afraid of it. Bloodshed and all that cruelty are not for me.” you swallow, fiddling with your hands. “I prefer to write about peace. A-and so I joined your expedition, my lord. To show the Legion not only from the point of view known to all. But other sides as well…”

You don’t know what to do with yourself. It would be easier to fall into the ground. However, looking at the primarch, it seems to you that you would rather soar. He was smiling. Not the charming noble smile that he usually gave to mortals. Not the mocking and evil one that you were afraid to see. No, it was a calm and peaceful smile… filled with sadness.

“Peace, that is what we strive for. However, we cannot achieve it without war.” - the man leans back in his chair, relaxing from talking to you. The high spirits suddenly evaporated and you wonder. Are you talking to the primarch or his double. Or is this the real Fulgrim. - “I realized that back on Chemos.”

“Your home world?”

“Yes. Now it is a fragrant land, full of abundance and beauty. But before it was a desert, where every worker was exhausted from labor. A world where parents abandoned their children too early.” - the man speaks more and more quietly, immersed in memories. You can't help but admire this spectacle.

“It was necessary to wage wars to unite Chemos. I am a warrior and strive for perfection in this art. However, I was not delighted to spill the blood of the human race. But sometimes it was necessary. Fortunately, there were other ways. Trading resources, providing protection, political marriages-”

Your mouth falls open in surprise and Fulgrim falls silent. Chuckling at your astonished look, the man smiles. For a moment, you again see the same perfect primarch that millions see.

“Surprised? Yes, I have been married several times. A very effective way to unite cities.”

“Oh. I would never have guessed. Where are -” You pull yourself back, realizing how many years have passed since the Primarch was found.

A feeling of sadness and tenderness grows in your chest. You are just a mortal girl, you should silently assent. But you cannot shake the thought that the Primarch turned out to be much more human than you thought.

“Do you miss them?”

The man smiles, almost patronizingly. His posture and voice are relaxed. But you see how his eyes turn into ice. Usually people close themselves off from their pain, just not to feel it again. But Fulgrim is not an ordinary man, he is a Primarch. Isn’t he?

“You could say that. But human life is too short, and I, the Emperor’s son. Must bring the light of enlightenment to all corners of the Galaxy. I cannot… think about the past.” - the Primarch shrugs. - “Besides, love is imperfect, and I”

“I disagree.”

Fulgrim is silent. His violet eyes are filled with a storm of emotions. Anger and resentment that you dared to contradict him, to disagree. And interest from something new.

The Primarch is perfect, he was created by the Emperor of Mankind himself. The greatest creation of science. People like him know better what is needed for mortals. They understand the world as it should be and cannot be wrong.

And yet you did not agree with him.

“I think love is beautiful and it is what continues to move us forward.” - you are embarrassed by your confidence and lower your eyes to the floor. - “Parents and children, siblings and friends support us. We change for the better for their sake and want to make the world happy for their sake.”

Your cheeks warm and you say shyly to yourself. “And romantic love is wonderful. So much of art is dedicated to this side of humanity.” You almost tremble when you dare to look at the Primarch again. “Without love, there would be no humanity.”

You would be lying if you said that time stood still. Like many mortals, your breath was taken away by the sight of the Primarch. But still, you managed to collect your feelings while sitting in his chambers. Now you dared to communicate with him as an equal. You should have felt shame or fear, nervousness.

But instead, a clear certainty settled in your soul like a warm flame. You were right, you did not doubt. Love is an incredible feeling that could not be denied or pretended not to exist. And you would even dare to call it true perfection.

“An interesting observation.” - the man looks at you carefully and you cannot help but notice how much the atmosphere in the room has changed. But it was too difficult for you to grasp what this feeling was. - “I will take it into account. You may go.”

***

You nod, confused by the whole conversation, and quickly leave the chamber. Leaving the man alone with his dark thoughts. Which he desperately wanted to suppress, to master his feelings.

He was a primarch. Above any mortal. And this was not bragging, but a simple fact. Fulgrim was obliged to lead humanity to the stars. To bring knowledge and art to the forgotten corners of the galaxy, to win every battle. To know perfection.

He was irritated by your unwillingness to submit to his will and to know the true nature of things. He could blame it all on the mortal mind. He could come to terms with the fact that you are not ready to understand the universe. But Fulgrim would be a liar if he said that he did not think about your words.

The man's gaze involuntarily touches the busts of his adoptive parents. They loved each other, did they not? Tullea and Corrin were enchanted by the Primarch and yet… it was their love for each other that turned them all into a family. They painted the dark world of Chemos with their feelings while Fulgrim was still a child.

He did not love them, but he pitied them. As he did his wives. It is an imperfect feeling that the Primarch was forced to give up. His path lies among the stars to glory and victory. So why can't he get your image out of his head? Is your faith in love so strong that it could shake his foundations? Nonsense. An imperfect creature, that's what you are.

And yet the Primarch makes another appointment, ignoring a strange premonition. A moment of weakness, nothing more. Fulgrim is still far from perfect. And talking with you should help the Primarch transform this burning impulse that torments his heart. In the end, he is above it.

[harmoniouseclipse]

Woe fankids be upon ye

Doing a little series where I took some ship requests on my instagram to make them fankids, this one is for me tho (jeanlisa to kick it off whoo 🙌🏻) The lineup so far is Cytham, Kavetham, Lionfish (aka Freminet x Gaming aged up probably idk how old they are canonically), Cynonari, Jealuc, and Beiguang, and feel free to send me some other pairings you wanna see (as long as they are legal pls otherwise I will ignore it 👎)

I'm gonna ramble about some headcanons and lore for them under the cut, continue with caution bc I'm insane

These two are my brainrot rn, don't even joke lad. And I wanna tell yall their name meanings too bc I like them a lot 🥹 Zephra's means "west wind" derived from Greek, and it's the feminine version of Zephyr. Tyrian was a type of purple dye used by the Ancient Phoenicians, huge huge HUGE thanks to my pookie bear @miothefish for helping me out with his name!!! Also he has Lisa's butterfly earring and you can't see bc of the angle but Zephra has the rose that went in her hair holding her ponytail <3

I'm also making a massive family tree for the characters as a go along, and just the jeanlisa tree is taking up half of the canvas bc of the KoF and Sumeru characters since Cyno is their uncle and the rest of the gang are their honorary uncles 😭 I'll be posting that once the series is done/all the requests are finished/I run out of ships and otps I enjoy

Here's an alternative version with some more info on most of the characters I wanted to briefly mention in their relation to them; Tyrian likes calling Eula his aunt too even though she was never really considered one for them so it's kind of like her unofficial title she pretends to dislike but she loves it and dotes on Tyrian 🤭 She and Diluc also helped train Zephra with a claymore and Diluc kind of became a parental figure to her in her teen years after Lisa's passing 🥺 She also feels like she's outshined by Jean and that she's not smart or powerful enough to follow in Lisa's footsteps (something that Lisa wouldn't want anyways bc it led her to her death 😔) rip zephra she's just like me fr

And yeah some Kaeya angst bc he's still going thru it I fear, and Jean is single mombossing but she's worried for zephra which me too dawg, im afraid to say she might be cooked 😦 Zephra is also kind of like a weird mix of Lisa when she was her age and Jean, where overall she's well-mannered and kind but she can be competitive and feel the need to push herself too much and pull a few strings to get what she wants from time to time. Tyrian is a ray of sunshine tho, he has not yet witnessed the horrors 💔 I do think that Jean is also a lot easier on him than her mom was with her so that also helps. He's very shy tho and wants to stick with Zephra or Razor most of the time, and they both have some nasty tan lines from going out with Razor and Klee and Fischl a lot 😔 Cyno also freaking loves them and dotes on them and Tyrian is getting a TCG addiction because of it smh, Cyno is also one of Zephra's favorite people and when she's in Sumeru she stays with him and Alhaitham (bc in my universe they are married ough I love cytham)

And (I think?) Klee physically and mentally ages slower than humans so I think she'd be technically 9 or 10, and Zephra is left with babysitting duty most of the time if she's home on break or smth 😭 Klee really looks up to her tho

Also, I wrote Tyrian's last bullet point like he was super young when Lisa died, but I think he was around 7 so he actually remembers Lisa better than I intended it to sound, he was just younger than Zephra (who was 11 at the time) and just didn't have as much time with her as Zeph did, but his most fond memory of Lisa was reading with her and she probably taught them some potion-making skills too.

I think there will be some abyss angst in here too at some point, since I hc Lisa to be probably an Abyss Lector/Harold (I forget which is which) um so thinking that Zeph and Tyrian experiencing some not normal things happening and Jean doesn't know what to do since Lisa also didn't really know what that dog in her was until it was too late 😔 That's what Kaeya's for tho since he's like the heir of the abyss???? Go off king. Also some touchy ragbros angst bc Kaeya is scared for Zeph knowing how close she is with Luc and he doesn't want him to push her away because of her being from the abyss or smth (they mostly made up but it's still a fear in Kaeya's mind both for him and Jean's kids)

I think that's all I wanted to touch on for now?? Mainly just thinking about domestic fluff and angst all the time now 🥺 Zeph not being able to be open with Jean bc she feels like a disappointment but Jean would literally actually die for her and shes proud of her no matter what ough im going to lose my freak dawg guess who my favorite fankid is it's super hard ik

Send me asks or dms or whatever for more ship requests!!! I'm having so much fun with this dawg 🫶🏻

[gaiaseyes451]

Ostinato - A New Good Omens FanFic

Rated: Explicit, One-Shot, 11k (Read here on AO3)

A massive thank you to @and-his-hands-were-24-crows for this utterly gorgeous sketch!!! *swoons* Check out their AO3 at The 23rd Crow! Summary (Read on AO3): It has been six months since Aziraphale ascended to the highest ranks of Heaven. It has been six months and Aziraphale will not answer any of Crowley's attempts to contact him through conventional methods so alternative tactics must be employed. Crowley uncovers an ancient summoning ritual discovered by humans, rooted in magic and steeped in power of music. If the angel will not respond to Crowley willingly, then the Supreme Archangel will no longer be given a choice.

Excerpt: With three keys, one for each lock, he opened the heavy auditorium door. The twists and slips and chains of the deadbolts barred it against unwelcome human presences. 

On the stage, he took painstaking care to create the sigil required for the summoning ritual—a cipher of concentric circles on the matte black boards drawn with stark white chalk. His intricate script wove them together, nearly incomprehensible for the multitude of languages and sheer number of times their names were repeated. It was impossible to tell where one ended and the next began. He wove the disparate languages together with a transcendent grace: angelic characters, demonic runes, Sumerian, Phoenician, Hebrew, Latin, Sanskrit, Arabic, Mandarin, Hindi, Greek, Italian, Prussian, German, French, English– the history of an existence that had always belonged to the both of them.

Thanks to @voluptatiscausa, @malachitegrey and @adverbian for organizing the High Pollen Count! Event and encouraging us folks who ran with the vibes instead of the pollen itself to still participate. 🤣

And a huge thanks to my beta's @hakunahistata, @the-literal-kj and @paperclipninja. As always a shoutout to @goodomensafterdark for supporting the wonderful writers' community.

[thesiltverses]

Hello! Have you heard black sheep by poor man’s poison? It’s so carpenter and Faulkner coded I could swear you had that song in mind when you wrote it. It was the first song I added to my silt verses playlist when I made it

I have not heard either of the songs you recommended (or the bands!) but I just checked them both out this morning after spending a month glued to sound design, and I enjoyed them a lot, so thank you!

Poor Man's Poison reminded me a lot of The Devil Makes Three, this sort of straight-faced Weird West music, but I really liked Rabbitology's Bog Bodies, which took me back to Seamus Heaney's bog poems, which were very much an influence on the show as a whole.

Quick, let's have a bog poem:

BOG QUEEN I lay waiting between turf-face and demesne wall, between heathery levels and glass-toothed stone.

My body was braille for the creeping influences: dawn suns groped over my head and cooled at my feet,

through my fabrics and skins the seeps of winter digested me, the illiterate roots

pondered and died in the cavings of stomach and socket. I lay waiting

on the gravel bottom, my brain darkening, a jar of spawn fermenting underground

dreams of Baltic amber. Bruised berries under my nails, the vital hoard reducing in the crock of the pelvis.

My diadem grew carious, gemstones dropped in the peat floe like the bearings of history.

My sash was a black glacier wrinkling, dyed weaves and phoenician stitchwork retted on my breasts’

soft moraines. I knew winter cold like the nuzzle of fjords at my thighs—

the soaked fledge, the heavy swaddle of hides. My skull hibernated in the wet nest of my hair.

Which they robbed. I was barbered and stripped by a turfcutter’s spade

who veiled me again and packed coomb softly between the stone jambs at my head and my feet.

Till a peer’s wife bribed him. The plait of my hair, a slimy birth-cord of bog, had been cut

and I rose from the dark, hacked bone, skull-ware, frayed stitches, tufts, small gleams on the bank.

[switchbladedreamz]

My Choice

LOOK AT HIS FUCKING SMILE OH MY GOD

Pairing: Teacher!Logan x Teacher!Reader

Rating: R bc too many swears for PG-13

Requested?: nope

Summary: uuuuuh not fluff and not really angst? Logan gets rejected but it'll buff out bro I swear, wanting to make this into my first series so please be gentle. Let me know what you think in the comments and reblogs!🩷🩷

PLS REBLOG TUMBLR ONLY RECOGNIZES REBLOGS IT HELPS BLOGS GROW. K THANKS ENJOY THE FIC BYYYYEE

{masterlist} {next chapter}

~~~~

"How do you think the Phoenicians would interact with-" the bell shrieks interrupting me. "Alright that's time, class, dismissed. Have a great weekend!" My small class of fifteen students scrambled out of their seats, rushing single file out of the classroom. Eager to end their day. A couple desks were left askew in the rush for the door. Sighing, i walk over and fix them. There's a presence at the door and a swift two knocks. I look up to be greeted with Logan's hulking frame in my doorway. A smile on his face. "Hey teach, got a minute?" "If you don't mind that I pack my stuff up real quick, yes i do. What's on your mind Mr. Howlett." I pay him no mind as I cross the room in three steps. "How many times do I gotta tell ya, you can call me Logan". I 'hmm' in response, my focus on packing away my lesson plan. The mess of papers strewn about my desk are picked up and sorted before i put them away in my desk. The top drawer squeaks shut, soon to be juxtaposed by Logan's deep voice. "I uh.. was wondering if you would want to get a drink tonight. With me. Greet the weekend the right way." Did I hear that right? I look up at him, he's serious. It makes me laugh. Clearly not expecting this reaction, the look on his face is befuddled. "Logan ..I'm worth more than a couple cheap beers and a good fuck." I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk past him out of the door. He stands there, stunned. Has he never been rejected before? Not to say I wouldn't go out with him. God I'm practically in love with the man. But I owe myself more than to be, well for lack of a better term, another notch on his belt. His heart belongs to Jean as we all are annoyingly aware. Why should I hurt myself like that for a man. Halfway up the staircase, trying to get to my room, I can hear his weighted footsteps and the creaking of the wood before Logan speaks up. "Hey Y/n wait a second." I wait until I'm standing in the hallway at the top of the stairs to reply. "Yes Mr. Howlett?" "Cut it out with that mister shit.." realizing he sounded a little gruff he clears his throat and adds a quiet "..please.. And can I ask if you still want to grab a beer with me? Just friends?" "I don't like to drink and I have papers to grade. Have a good weekend." I turn around and swiftly walk to my room which sadly is right across from his. 'I can not believe i just turned him down. Twice! Oh my god what have I done? I could've just blown any and every chance i could've had with him. Fuck. Fuuuuck. Fuck!' The anxiety roils in my gut like a swarm of angry bees. I did good by putting my best interests first. I tell myself over. And over. And over. And one more time just to be sure.

For the next three hours I am hunched over the desk in my room grading my students work for my ancient history class. H.I.M. is playing somewhere in the background. Ville Vallo is doing his best to quel the increasing frustration that comes with being a teacher and not understanding how they aren't understanding what I'm trying to teach them. My focus is interrupted by an obnoxious dying whale call emitting from my stomach. I rest my head in my hands, letting my frustrations ease and the music flow while i shift my train of thought from work to food. I stand up from my chair and stretch the day's muscle aches away. I pause my music before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

Hank and Charles are animatedly chatting about... physics? I can't really tell, they're talking too fast. An open bottle of gin that is a third of the way gone is the probable explanation for the passion and animation which they express themselves with. I open the fridge and survey my options. A silent "fuck it" mumbles from my lips before grabbing the jelly. And then the peanut butter, bread and a butter knife. Another pb&j for dinner won't kill me. "Ah Y/n you know I heard you rejected a certain...wolfish man..twice today. How did you ever accomplish that given your....feelings?" Charles' words are always calculated. Maybe slurred a little by the bottle of alcohol sitting between him and his company. Of course he's already heard about it. "Well Charles, hi hank" he lifts his hand and waves. "I'll tell you what i told Mr. Howlett "im worth more than a couple cheap beers and a good fuck". I wanna date the guy, be with him, not just another fuck and then we're awkward with each other in the hallways. Hell no." Charles looks at me..admirably? "Thats what I've always admired about you, Y/n. You stick up for yourself no matter what. You're right you do deserve more than that. Hank and I were just discussing the possibilities of the multiverse. Care to join?" "All due respect, fuck no. Science hurts my brain, that's why I teach history. Now if you fellas would like to discuss the outcome the Compact Theory had on Jacksonian Democracy I'd love to, or even trade routes of the Phoenicians or Alexander The Great and his many many Alexandria I'm all ears. But I suppose I could sit and let you enjoy my company" i giggle at my own joke. I stride to the table, sandwich in hand and sit down. "No no no, I think I'd rather talk about how in love with The Wolverine our newest history teacher is" Hank flourishes his hands when mentioning Logan's moniker. A ditzy smile on his face to match the haze in his eyes, clearly a little more intoxicated than Charles is. "ugh please im not in love with the guy, i just have feelings for him. No one else sees how sweet he is, in silent ways. And he's patient with his students. The jackass is only a jackass as a coping mechanism because he thinks if he has friends they'll all hate him so he hates them and himself before they have a chance. Is it fucked up logic and self-destructive? Absolutely. Does it make me want him more? Fuck yes. Did I chew myself out for rejecting him? God knows I did. But I'm the only motherfucker that's gonna take care of myself and as much I want him to be the man that I see, that I know he can be.. it's not gonna happen." The intoxicated men guffaw at my response. "You're telling me you see his potential." ..."Yes. What's so wrong with that?" "Y/n the man won't live up to his potential in probably another 200 years. When we're all gone and all he has is..hopefully, this place." "Well jeez Chuck that was dark" "forgive me, I was a tad bit morose. But still. I suppose i do understand you denying yourself the one night of fun over years of heartache. It's romantic." At this I scoff. "Whatever you say man." I get up and grab two sodas from the nearby pantry. Why they don't keep them in the fridge, I'll never understand. I grab a glass and some ice from the freezer and take my seat. I pour mine in my glass of ice, the other i split between Hank's glass and Charles'. "To make the alcohol come back up easier in the morning" they laugh at my explanation and thank me.

"I thought you didn't drink" the deep voice from behind startled me with a jump. I turn around and there he fuckin is. In all his beauty. The warm kitchen lights cast a smooth glow on his face. Black tank top, black jeans..that stupid native skull with a headdress belt buckle. And that jacket. The only item of clothing that doesn't look like it will shred itself apart from his body with the slightest of movements. "I don't. Its soda. Chuck and Hank however..." I trail off, my head jerking back to the friends/coworkers behind me. Laughing their asses off at my expense ..and Logan's, I can tell. Asses, both of them. He only grunts. God what I wouldn't give to have him gru- Charles gasps, the alcohol numbing his control over his powers..or he's just being nosy. "Y/n those thoughts are unbecoming of a lady of your stature" he slurs. I roll my eyes. "What's he talkin about?" Logan asks. "It's nothing." I quickly try to cover up the topic and try to change it. "So how was the bar?" I try to be friendly. Despite my rejection earlier I do still want to be friends with the guy. "Yeah? What do you care?" Ouch, I totally earned that. He rolls his eyes and begrudgingly sits next to me. I can feel annoyance rolling off of him. "Its fine. Friends?" His eyebrow quirks up with his head turned toward me slightly. I smile and take the olive branch. "Friends." Hank and Charles clap and 'woo'. 'friends! Friends!' they drunkenly cheer.

~~~~ Logan's Point of View

I'm sittin at the bar, puffin on a cheap cigar. Some old country song sets the ..ambience. Nursing the same glass of whisky I've had for an hour. I just don't feel right tonight. I feel a hand on my shoulder. Maybe Y/n decided to join me afterall. I turn in my stool, disappointed to see a shorthaired red head. Not Jean and definitely not Y/n. "Hi handsome, this seat taken?" She cocks her head to the side gesturing to the empty stool next to me. Fuck it, I'll bite. "Please, by all means". She's pleased with this if the small smile on her face means anything. "You come here often?" A dull line. Before I can answer the bartender comes over "Leave the man alone Carmila, my customers don't wanna pay for what you offer." Oh. So that's why she's here. I get up, pull my wallet out and leave a $50 on the bar. "For my drinks and hers. See ya next time bub." I throw back the rest of my drink and leave the empty glass on the bar. Done with this place. The girl doesn't bother to chase me outside. I ride over to the nearest gas station, fill up my tank and make it back to the mansion in no time. Another night wasted at the bar instead of being wasted at the bar. Walking into the front door I can hear faint laughter. The laughter leads me to the kitchen, from the hallway I can tell who it is. And those asshats are talkin about me? Is that gin I smell?

"...rather talk about how in love with The Wolverine our newest history teacher is.."

'What the hell is Hank on about? Beast never could handle his alcohol. He'd be the damn town gossip if he ever drank outside of this place. Ah what the hell, I'm buzzed, I'm bored, and those assholes in there are talking about me so why shouldn't I listen?...just for a little bit.'

I heard Y/n laugh, man I wish it was me making her laugh and not those bozos. "-m not in love with the guy," ouch. "I just have feelings for him." 'Woah woah, what the hell?' "No one else sees how sweet he is, in silent ways. How he's patient with his students. The jackass is only a jackass as a coping mechanism because he thinks if he has friends they'll all hate him so he hates them and himself before they have a chance. Is it fucked up logic and self-destructive? Absolutely. Does it make me want him more? Fuck yes. Did I chew myself out for rejecting him? God knows I did. But I'm the only motherfucker that's gonna take care of myself and as much I want him to be the man that I see, that I know he can be.. it's not gonna happen."

'aaaaaah shit-fuck..i fucked up. Now she thinks I'm a worthless ass who just thinks she's meat. I just wanted to show her a good time, and have a good time. I respect her and it's time I showed her that respect. Especially now I know she just turned me down out of respect for her own self worth. Thats fuckin rare. It makes me want her more. To hell with it, Jean made her choice. Now it's time I make mine.'

The next words I hear sting. I know Charles is just drunk but hell I like it here.

~~~~ back to Y/n's Point of View

'God Logan is so close he smells so good. Usually I hate the smell of cigars but fuck he makes it so tantalizing. It's like the man sweats in manly yankee candles' Charles once again laughs out loud at seemingly nothing. This causes everyone around the table to eye each other suspiciously. I stare at my soda, watching the bubbles trying to not be suspicious. "I think it's time we get wheels to bed before he hurts himself." Logan chides in with a smirk. Thankfully taking the heat off of me. Charles gets in a huff rightfully and calls Logan an "ableist immortal whose only contribution to society in the past two hundred years is all the bullets he's taken for the country" what a catty bitch, i respect it.

The walk to my room feels like forever. Walking past my desk I can't help but glare daggers at the papers mocking me from their neat pile. '..Later.' I told myself. Grabbing a sleep shirt from my dresser and new underwear, i cross the room and enter my bathroom. Grabbing my fluffiest towel, because self care, I turn my shower on and my speaker. Continuing the goth rock playlist from earlier Black Veil Brides' "Lost It All" is serenading the bathroom walls. The hot water releases only the first layer of tension in my shoulders, it's enough. I stay under the water for 15 more minutes until I've decided it's time to get out. Back to the evil dry world.

[alsadeekalsadouk]

On October 30, UNESCO convened an extraordinary session at the request of Lebanese authorities to address the protection of cultural heritage amid ongoing hostilities. The session led to the provisional inclusion of 34 Lebanese cultural properties, including Baalbek and Tyre, on the International List of Cultural Property under Enhanced Protection, granting them immunity from attack and military use under the 1954 Hague Convention.

UNESCO will provide technical and financial support to strengthen legal protections, risk management, and training for site managers. This initiative highlights the urgency of safeguarding Lebanon’s heritage and complements UNESCO’s recent measures, such as emergency planning, inventorying museum collections, relocating movable artifacts, and monitoring sites via satellite in collaboration with UNOSAT. Additionally, UNESCO has launched an emergency programme for Lebanon’s culture, education, and communication sectors, calling on Member States for financial support.

Thanks for your efforts

@unesco

@lebanese.ministry.of.culture

@lindahakim1

@biladi_lebanon

#archéologie#Baalbek#byblos#château#citadelle#colonnes#comte#echmoun#jbeil#jupiter#liban#maritime#projection#romain#saint#site#temple#toulouse#tripoli#Lebanesearchaeology #tyrelebanon #sidonlebanon #discoverlebanon

#sidon #saida #tyre #Beirut #Phoenician #الصديق_الصدوق

34 Lebanese cultural properties, including Baalbek and Tyre, on the International List of Cultural Property under Enhanced Protection,

[vidavalor]

Hello to the Gorgeous GO Word Lady!

I love your posts and I was wondering if you think there's a word thing happening with Alpha Centauri? I know it's the stars and Crowley was meaning going to the actual stars but there a lot of stars? Do you think there's a wordy reason why Crowley calls running off going to Alpha Centauri?

Thanks!

Hi there. 💕 Gorgeous, eh? You flirt, you... Chocolate cake? *slices* There is significance to the actual star system that many of others have written about but you asked me for the word nerdery so the word nerdery you shall receive... As always, if anyone sees additional things, please shout out.

Alpha Centauri = All for centaur, I.

A centaur is a mythical being from Greek mythology that is half-man, half-horse.

See also: 1601's horse innuendo; that the wine Crowley is drinking at Marguerite's in S2 is called a male horse in French; Aziraphale's hilarious thinking of/humming of "The William Tell Overture" (popularly known as the theme song to 'The Lone Ranger') while possessing Madame Tracy in light of all of the possession-is-akin-to-sex dialogue in different scenes; to some extent, the unicorns, etc...

Horseback-riding-is-sex jokes live in the happy place at the intersection of animal comparison and transportation-related innuendo.

Also important to note that Alpha Centauri is also part of the Centaurus star system, lest my post mislead you into thinking that I am implying there only be but one centaur in this relationship as that is not at all my intent lol. The Latin centaurus is actually the root word of centaur, so...

Alpha, as we all likely know, means beginning and first/first in a sequence. Alpha is the first letter of the Greek alphabet, where it was derived from the Phoenician letter aleph, which is the first letter of the Semitic abjads. Speaking of beginnings of things and firsts in a sequence? Aleph is the West Semitic word for ox.

Within alpha lives pha, which can be used with relation to making drinks in Vietnamese. (So, to favored euphemisms of coffee & alcohol.) It also, through French influence on the language, adopted a meaning of a phase/a stage in a process or (and I really love that the Vietnamese have a word that means this specifically): a brief, but astonishing, event.

Speaking of our riding theme, in several other languages, pha is either a word for thigh (Rade, Jarai) or means to give (Phuthi, Lala). In Greek, it is a root meaning of words related to the ideas of speaking and showing. In keeping with their sea theme, pha is the root of Greek pharos, which means a lighthouse.

In Sanskrit, pha can apparently be translated, depending on use/context, to mean any of the following rather Ineffable Husbands-y things: obvious/evident; a very windy rainstorm; an increase or a swelling; bubbling/boiling; heat; idle chat; and, as if that weren't enough, of, or pertaining to, fruit.

[neathyingenue]

every time i go diving i can't stop thinking about the tempest

and the parallel passage from 'the burial of the dead' in the waste land

(text versions below the cut)

“Full fathom five thy father lies” 

(from The Tempest, William Shakespeare)

Full fathom five thy father lies;

Of his bones are coral made;

Those are pearls that were his eyes:

Nothing of him that doth fade,

But doth suffer a sea-change

Into something rich and strange.

Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:

                                             Ding-dong.

Hark! now I hear them,—ding-dong, bell.

///

From The Waste Land part I, "The Burial of the Dead" by T.S. Eliot

Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,

Had a bad cold, nevertheless

Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,

With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,

Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,

(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)

Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,

The lady of situations.

Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,

And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,

Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,

Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find

The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.

I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.

Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,

Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:

One must be so careful these days.

[bloody-red-gem]

"The Phoenician: Illustration by an Unknown Remembrancer"

Slightly inspired by the Fayum mummy portraits.

Feel free to reblog on Tumblr. Do not post on other social media without my consent, thank you!