#while also serving specific purposes

[nightmarecountry]

there's something SO fucking tasty about corinth.ian's "i'm my own man now" "we'll be home free" "build something that's just ours" brand of wanting freedom when you then hold it up in the light and see the "he made me what i am today" "i've done my best to be what you made me" "not a god. more than a god" behind it. i feel like i never really get right to the heart of what all of that means to him, if i'm honest. i know it's MESSY and that's all.

[brick-van-dyke]

Gonna review all the sources I've been provided with (they're damning for the zio so rip to them but thanks for the sources lmao), and been searching through more sources from the time periods in question and, well, basically I started a thing.

(sorry for the blurriness) An overall essay going through the evidence and providing a small splash of input as someone noticing a lot of discord in said evidence, which isn't surprising but still it is telling how zionists cherry pick.

Anyway, the more I learn, the more I realise that there's a lot of political and nationalistic push to emit details in some papers, while pushing for certain conclusions based on the framing of the research for others. I think this is legitimately just unproductive when acknowledging the subjectivity of history as a study and the way certain overlap may point to a conclusion that isn't preferable by a variety of people, from researchers to the intuitions that may use or pay for the research to begin with. I find this in studies that delve into contentious topics in general. It's why it's so important to note the overlap and notice the inevitability of bias in understanding these topics.

As far as the history the Middle East goes and who colonised who, I think many disregard the simple theory that, perhaps, colonisation itself can be something inflicted by the post-colonised and equally be something done to a group with connections to conquest, ultimately making both the same in terms of land rights and the concept of legal ownership. Or, more specifically, that Zionists' attempts to become conquests have since reduced their claim, just as it would reduce a Babylonian, despite their deep links to the land and, arguably, being one of the first social groups before or at the same time as the Israelites.

History and Carbon Dating specifically become difficult to assign moral value of land rights to when cultures blossom and change in such extreme ways (to the point of being unrelated or unrecognisable with those from ancient eras) with the passing of time. The racial blame placed by Israel is thus shown to be one of mistaken vengeance and generally racial profiling of modern Arabs, just as the Persian, Turkish, Roman and British empires showed signs of racist attitudes to employ totalitarian tactics of rule over the peasantry. Being the colonised when one is willing to colonise with the same means reduces the ethical claims and, meanwhile, the history itself reflects greater nuance than political nationalists may desire of it.

Ultimately, as I search further and further, I find that the claim of nationalism and identity is a mere shared ideal of all empires formed through conquest and the desire for ownership of abundant resources. Meanwhile, I find that the idea of an ancient homeland to reclaim is obsolete when the people in question do not resemble those they wish to avenge. Culture evolves with geography and time, a constant for every country's history. Religion, culture and the concept of a homeland forms where the resources are abundant, rather than any legitimate greater or lesser claim from neighbouring tribes and civilisations. The wish of a Promised Land is a logical conclusion for any group seeking refuge from the elements; a moral argument filled with human necessity and a shared common ground if faced with an open mind and a willingness to review the past, while simultaneously moving on from it. The complexity becomes simple when it is understood that only the present can take responsibility for the present; and choose a better path than those who horde resources in the modern age of globalised colonialism.

[morimess]

i keep seeing songs on TT that remind me of Linebeck...and I don't...really know how to feel about it.

[wttcsms]

i'll pretend you'll stay forever ; kento nanami.

pairing kento nanami x f!reader  word count 2.4k  synopsis no one knows that the bodyguard for the prime minister's daughter fucks her on a daily basis. content contains bodyguard!nanami x prime minister's daughter!reader, big, beefy, strong nanami hehe, creampie, slight brat taming, pet names (baby, good girl, bad girl), cockwarming, dom!nanami, hair pulling, car sex, nanami makes you call him sir author's notes s2 was animated for the nanami girlies

Kento Nanami is good at his job.

Granted, he’s been practically bred for the position. Born and raised by a mother and father who also dealt in espionage, sent to boarding schools that would feed him directly to The Academy, constantly being reminded of his purpose. Agent Nanami serves as one of the Prime Minister’s most trusted secret operatives. A select few who are given the most sensitive assignments. 

“K-Kento — too much,” your shaky whines sound even louder than they actually are, emphasized by the silence in his car. 

Sensitive — yes, that’s what you are. 

“You can take it.” He tells you, gently stroking your cheek. His calloused thumb wipes away a stray tear, and he takes you in. You’re still tearing up, your lashes slick, and you’re pouting at him. You’re always pouting, probably because growing up, you’ve never been told no. It’s not required according to his assignment file (most of what Nanami has been doing with you has decidedly been not required), but Nanami’s been trying hard to give you lessons that will have you behaving politely and like a good girl rather than the spoiled brat you actually are.

Kento Nanami is good at his job.

When he’s told that he is to be the primary bodyguard for the Prime Minister’s daughter, he accepts it without hesitation. Everyone else has had no luck with you, and you certainly don’t seem to be bothered by that fact. You’re in college now, and you want nothing more than to skip lectures and go to parties, both of which is rather difficult when you have a bodyguard watching your every move and reporting directly to your father.

Nanami goes about his assignment in a different way. There’s another bodyguard, one who is also watching you, but young Itadori cannot possibly go about protecting the Prime Minister’s most beloved daughter safe all by himself. He’s barely graduated from the Academy.

Besides, you automatically dislike any of the guards assigned to you. Itadori is a nice, young man, and in different circumstances, everyone is certain that you would have enjoyed his company. The fact that his job is to protect you seems to be his only fatal flaw in your eyes.

Nanami is no stranger to undercover work, and so posing as a final year doctoral candidate at the university you’re attending is an easy cover. Setting up the perfect chain of events that leads to you specifically choosing him to be your economics tutor was also an easy enough task. 

And somewhere along the lines, you got this idea inside of your pretty, little head that you’re just the smartest, sneakiest girl around. You think you’re evading Itadori’s watchful eyes, taking advantage of his rookie status even though he’s always aware you’re “sneaking off” to meet with Nanami. You think you’re finally rebelling against your father’s strict instructions to stay out of trouble. 

And while Nanami does ensure that you keep out of trouble, he’s not sure if your father will approve with how he’s keeping you so obedient.

Kento Nanami is good at his job.

You’re not the first brat that he’s had to train, but you’re proving to be quite the star student. You hold back any more whining complaints, and instead, you’re straddling his lap like the good girl he knows you can be, his thick cock fitting snugly inside your pussy.

Both of your hands are clutching onto his broad shoulders, your pretty, manicured nails digging into the stiff cotton of his blue button-up. His mind doesn’t register the sting of your nails practically sinking into his skin. All he can focus on is what a pretty, dazed little mess you are. 

“See?” He coos, sounding not the least bit condescending. The warmth of his baritone, the reassuring strokes on your cheek — Nanami is a gentleman. You practically beam with pride as he tells you, “I told you you could take it. Such a good girl.”

You still haven’t moved yet, and Nanami whispers more words of praise for you. It only took two weeks of training to get you to understand that you can beg for his touch, his attention, his cock, all you want, but he gives it all to you under his terms and conditions. He knows you want some friction, knows that you need it so badly because why else are your walls clenching down so heavily on his length? You’re being so patient with him that he feels himself getting impossibly harder at the thought of your perfect behavior. 

“You want to ride me, baby?” The question comes out as a throaty whisper, the clear desire he has for you evident in his rough tone. 

You nod eagerly, damn near salivating at the thought of finally being able to take what you want. 

“Use your words.” He demands, moving his hand to caress your face once more before letting his thumb toy with your bottom lip. 

“Yes,” you whimper out, trying your hardest to resist the temptation to start moving, to have the feeling of his cock brushing against your walls, in and out, in and out.

His eyes narrow, and his cold demeanor is enough to keep you frozen in place. Oh, you’ve upset him. 

“You were being such a good girl, too.” He shakes his head in disappointment. “When you answer me, what are you supposed to say?”

“Y-yes, sir.” 

“And if you knew this, why didn’t you say it the first time?” The way he snaps at you shouldn’t give your tummy butterflies, but it does. Nanami is far kinder and gentler than he lets on, and it’s why you enjoy it when he takes on such a demanding role when it’s just the two of you. No one can handle your attitude as well as Nanami, and that’s precisely why you’re warming his cock right now, walls tightening around him with every stern scolding that leaves his mouth. 

“You can’t answer me?” The sharpness of his tone turns you demure, making you turn your head down and away from him, refusing to answer or look at him, and he frowns at that. You feel him wrapping your hair around his hand, and the movements are soft, slow, gentle at first—

—and with speed and dexterity that shouldn’t belong to a mere student, he’s yanking you by your hair, forcing you to snap your head up and look him in his cold eyes. 

“You were behaving so well earlier.” He feigns disappointment, but the hungry glint in his eyes tells you that he’s been looking forward to whatever punishment he has in store for you. “What a shame. I was going to let you have me however you wanted, let you take control for once.” He leans down, whispering in your ear. “Instead, it looks like I get to fuck you like the bad girl you really are, hm?” 

Before you can protest, apologize, beg for mercy, he takes his free hand to grip your waist, strong enough to lift you slightly off of him, only to slam you back down on his dick. 

You let out a strangled cry at the sudden intrusion. It’s one thing to have him sink into you inch by inch; it’s another thing entirely to have him practically impale you with his dick.

His thrusts are rough, hard, unforgiving. Never sloppy, though — Nanami’s much too meticulous to reduce himself to a wild animal, even though he’s fucking you so hard, you can’t tell if he hates your guts or just wants to rearrange them. 

His hand is still tangled in your hair, and he pulls some more, forces your neck to arch up. He leans in, licking at the soft skin of your neck before nipping at the skin, hard enough to leave a mark you’ll need to cover up with a turtleneck because no amount of concealer can save you now.

You mewl in pain at the sensation, but it’s obvious you love it. You’re dripping all over his dick, forcing wet, squelching sounds to fill the car every time he moves inside of you. You should be ashamed — would be ashamed — if only the overwhelming pleasure didn’t leave your mind shrouded in a hazy mist of lust and rapture. The pinpricks of pain from how he’s pulling your hair and from the fresh lovebites marking your flesh should hurt more, but you’re too lost in the way his cock is filling you up. 

“Look at that.” Nanami growls, untangling his hand from your hair in favor of putting his fingers to better use: stroking your clit. “You’re fucking soaked.” You look down as he commands, and your eyes widen in surprise, even though it shouldn’t come as such a shock to you. The front of his trousers is absolutely drenched with your juices, and your clit practically glistens in the faint moonlight that sneaks past the tint of his car. “Is this why you like to be a bad girl? Because you like getting fucked like a fleshlight, is that it?”

You want to shake your head no. You want to tell him that you are good, that you’re not a bad girl. But the stimulation on your clit, his harsh words, the way his cock is repeatedly hitting that special spot of yours — it’s all too much for you to handle.

“I want to treat you so well, baby. I want to spoil you, give you everything, but you make it so — fucking — difficult.” He speaks through clenched teeth, the warmth and ecstasy of being buried in your sweet pussy slowly chipping away at his resolve. The last three words of his sentence have all been punctuated by a particularly brutal thrust, and you’re certain that by the end of this, your cunt will keep the shape of his cock forever.

“I’m sorry!” You scream out, tears flowing freely down your cheeks now. The pleasure is mind-numbing, earth-shattering, reality-altering. Neither of you know what you’re apologizing for. Is it for being a bad girl when all Nanami wants is for you to behave so he can bring you the world at your feet? Is it for the wet mess you’re making all over his nice clothes and cock? Or is it for the fact that you’re breaking a cardinal rule, one that he will be most displeased by?

Maybe it’s all of the above, but if you had to pick, the apology would be for the fact that you’re cumming without permission. Your conscious mind is aware that Nanami is not going to be very happy with you, but this climax has you seeing stars. You can’t find it in yourself to worry about future consequences when you’re losing yourself in the throes of passion and pleasure. You’re drenching his cock in your cum, seeing stars, and reduced to feeling like a boneless mess. You slump against his strong chest, eyes struggling to remain open as you rest your head on one of his big, broad shoulders.

The punishment doesn’t come immediately — it rarely ever does. Nanami bides his time and doles out his punishments when you least expect it. He does it to keep you on edge, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t excite you. 

Instead, he lets you rest against him, reduced to nothing more than a little, fucked-out mess. You feel a rumble from his chest, a series of grunts and curses leaving his mouth as the bucking of his hips is done so harshly, you’re certain that you’re going to be bruised everywhere, from the soft flesh of your thighs to your poor cervix. A few more thrusts and Nanami is certain that he is planted as deep as he could go, the tip of his cock hitting you at your most sensitive spot. 

You feel him bury his face into your hair, taking in the scent of your shampoo and the lingering aroma of sex and sweat. His cock throbs in sporadic bursts, and you hear him grunt out your name like a broken prayer.

He cums, unloading a hot, heavy load directly inside of you, flooding you. You think you forget how to breathe, and all you can do is just take it, take all of him.

The warm sensation has you moaning softly; the feeling of him completely dominating your senses, your body, you, has you wanting him to never let you go, to never leave. You tighten your core, trying to squeeze more of his cum into you as he lets out little groans of pleasure from above you. You love reducing him to a moaning mess, reducing him to this sex-dazed state whenever he lets go because of you.

You don’t think you’re capable of speech, throat raw from your previous screams of pleasure, but you find that you don’t have to speak to let Nanami know what you want. As you lift your head from his shoulder, relishing in the sight of Nanami with his head leaned back, cheeks flushed from the exertion of giving you the best dick of your life, he opens his eyes to meet yours. Leaning down, he captures your lips and gives you a messy, sloppy kiss that is so unbecoming and out of character for him. 

The makeout session lasts until your eyes feel droopy and you’re not responding anymore. Nanami just looks down at you with a fondness that he hasn’t felt for anyone else in a while. You’re all tuckered out, and you’re breathing softly and slowly, lost to the world of dreaming. He’s a bit exhausted, too. He should pull you off his cock and buckle you back safely in the passenger seat, but he sees a small trail of his cum dribbling out of your overstuffed pussy and he figures it’s less of a mess if he just keeps you nice and plugged up for the time being.

Before he can close his eyes and join you, the crackle of his telecom planted in his watch comes to life. The static doesn’t do much to alter Itadori’s voice.

“Y1 to K1, this is Y1 requesting status of the Princess. Over.”

The “Princess” is currently dozing peacefully with his cum settling in her cunt. Nanami thinks that’s too crude to relay over the comms, though.

“K1 to Y1, Princess is secured. Over.”

[hor3nee]

• Life •

Sukuna grappling becoming a father while you give birth.

CW/TW: GN! reader, Labour/Childbirth, Sukuna typical violence mentions, BRIEF suggestive stuff, Nothing graphic, Religious metaphors & LOTS of life/death talk, (LMK if I should add anything else!)

Characters: Sukuna x Reader

AN: Nobody dies in this fic! It's fluff-ish. (It's Sukuna and reader giving birth, as fluffy as that can be man), prequel to this Descendant fic

   Life was such a fickle thing, not that it mattered to Sukuna. He was above life, death sickness and health, beyond it, above the proper empathy to care for it. It wasn't that he didn't understand, because he did, once mortal himself, and existing on this earth surrounded by the humanity that populated on it for years as a curse, he understood. But there was no legitimate reason for it to matter to him unless he could gain from a life, there was no reason to mind it.

And by the loose, greedy and otherwise just gluttonous standards of what it meant to be a creature of 'gain' to Sukuna, you fit it to the T, your life mattered to him. Your life, it was something he wanted, no needed to maintain to be kept satisfied, if you weren't there to be by his side, he'd be left starved.

To lose such a thing, would only ignite a certain wrath inside of him.

The screams of agony that parted from your pretty little lips had his chest twisting into a feeling of irritation. He much preferred your screams of ecstasy, making you scream his name in sweet pretty moans when he bedded you. Not this, screams of something he was also the culprit of in fairness, sobbed screams of pain as your body tore to birth his child.

Sukuna enjoyed such screeches of terror, weak defeated sobs he could rip and tear from the pathetic lot of mortals he terrorized, all of whose lives served no purpose to him. The issue is, yours does serve purpose, a great purpose to Sukuna. You're always there, by his side, and when you're not, it bothers him, he's greedy, hungry for you.

Your pain only infuriates him, he doesn't like it at all, no, he loathes listening to it.

Finally, finally, it stops after what felt like torturously long, it comes to a stop. Like that, the tightness inside his chest unwrapped, Sukuna didn't think he'd ever feel relief, he wouldn't need to, he had never fought an opponent he couldn't defeat, pillaged an army that would come close to his strength there was no concerns or worry for him to have to be relieved from. Yet here he was basking in such relief. Your screams stop, now instead replaced by the bothersome cries of something much more smaller. Squeaky small wails, that of an infant. his infant.

"Lord Sukuna." A muttered voice of one of the midwives comes through the door separating Sukuna from the delivery room. The door opens to the midwives attending finishing up and then all bowing in submission, their heads hanging low as Sukuna stands by the door-frame.

"Done?" He asks, more so a statement, a demand as everything he speaks is.

"Yes-" The meek voice of a midwife responds, she not daring to look up from the floor of the delivery room.

"Then what the hell are you dimwitted fools doing? OUT." There's the slightest growl in his voice at the command, one that though slight works wonders on any who dare stand in his presence, and to which without a moment of hesitation has all the midwives scatter out of the room, rushing out with their heads low. Only one pauses to shut the door behind herself, not wanting to risk the stupidity of leaving the door open.

Now, only the sounds of a baby's cries echo in the room, the small thing wrapped, protected in a small blanket. The moment is deafening as it is loud, there are as many thoughts as there is nothing in his eyes as he stares at the small baby you held. Yes, you made his child, 9 tedious months of him practically carrying you around everywhere and it was out now.

Sukuna was, well Sukuna, he didn't bother thinking much of the specifics, but rather the obvious reality of the situation during those passing months, and didn't see a reason to. He could still sleep with you, could still have you around, could still listen to your voice speak with him in converse. Was it different? Sure, but in no way that bothered him. Cravings? The King of the Curses can provide feasts. Tired? You needn't walk, he has four arms for a reason. The bodily change? Sukuna guts humans like pigs, the size of your stomach was far from grotesque to such a demon like Sukuna.

But now, he is met with the reality, the sight, the sound the smell of the newborn babe, absolutely reeking of familiarity, a literal complete being of two halves, Sukuna and you. It's overwhelming, and not in the way Sukuna likes, not in the hedonistic pleasures he enjoys but rather overwhelming in thoughts. Thoughts as rampant as blank in his mind, fogged like he was considering all of this.

"Sukuna." A clear call of his name comes from your throat despite its audible hoarseness of exhaustion, still as captivating as always, catching his entire attention. No one can command the Sukuna, but he doesn't need to be commanded when you call for him, because it's in his full will and gratification to come to your side, which he of course does. Stepping softly to where you are laid, surrounded by stained sheets, tools and incense presumably used in aid of the birth.

"What?" His throat rumbles, a question with no particular answer aside from the obvious literal whole baby you had birthed in your arms.

"Look at them... Beautiful, aren't they?" And perhaps by the grace of a god he'd doubted existed, there was a moment of serenity now, the fog cleared from the depths of his sick mind as he gazed upon the small bundle in your arms. That was your grace perhaps, no definitely, definitely your grace, you had bore his child.

That damned sinister grin came over his face as he reached down to the infant, the large monstrously large hand of his ever so delicately traced the cheek of the little one, a comical contrast between himself and the child. For the entirety of you and Sukuna's time spent together, he had considered you the only life that truly mattered to him, and now you had created a life from the mere womb, you've given him another life he'd find true importance in.

His child's life, blessed by the sanctified arms that cradled it.

"Divine, rather." He rumbled, a short snicker leaving his twisted tongue, but laced with genuine adoration. Utter devotion to this small life, to both two lives he had found himself so graciously gifted. Of you, of his child.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Modern library science has five key tenets that would also guide a future library economy. Developed by S. R. Ranganathan in his 1931 book, “Five Laws of Library Science,” these concepts are some of the most influential in today’s library economy. Let’s discuss these laws and how they would apply to the broader library economy. 1. Books are for use While preservation of certain original works is important, the purpose of a book is to be read. More broadly, a hammer’s purpose is to hammer, a tent to shelter, a children’s toy to be played with. Americans buy a lot of stuff, much of which spends more time idle in storage than in productive use. This law guides libraries to prioritize access, equality of service, and focus on the little things that prevent people from active use of the library’s collection. 2. Every person has their book This law guides libraries to serve a wide range of patrons and to develop a broad collection to serve a wide variety of needs and wants. The librarian should not be judgmental or prejudiced regarding what specific patrons choose to borrow. This extends to aesthetics of products, ergonomics, accessibility, topics, and the types of products themselves. 3. Every book has its reader This law states that everything has its place in the library, and guides libraries to keep pieces of the collection, even if only a very small demographic might choose to read them. This prevents a tyranny of the majority in access to resources. 4. Save the time of the reader This law guides libraries to focus on making resources easy to locate quickly and efficiently. This involves employing systems of categorization that save the time of patrons and library employees. 5. The library is a growing organism This law posits that libraries should always be growing in the quantity of items in the library and in the collection’s overall quality through gradual replacement and updating as materials are worn down. Growth today can also mean adoption of digital access tools.

[fairuzfan]

Also re:necropolitics of israel (click)

A few days ago there were reports of Israeli soldiers "returning" bodies of martyrs they took like just straight up from Gaza. Here is a report about bodies being stolen from al-Shifa (click).

The director of Al-Shifa had reported the bodies being stolen back in November (click) before his arrest. The hospital workers mentioned not knowing why the soldiers would do that. The speculation of the photo-op arose because the photo-op of October 7th within Israel happened a month and a half after October 7th, after the Al-Shifa raid. People (Palestinians) noted that the level of violence done to the bodies seemed similar to what they had been seeing with the bombs in Gaza, and found it hard to believe that Hamas could inflict that much damage. There was a thread that was examining this idea but I haven't found it as it's been a bit. If I find it, I'll comment on this post.

But even then, Israel routinely makes corpses serve out their sentences or even outright steals them for the sake of enacting psychological torture onto the relatives of the martyr (click). The burial process is an essential step in mourning and grief, which means by withholding the bodies, they ensure that the family is unable to recover emotionally from the death of their loved one nor are they allowed to move on. This is essentially a form of ensuring that people are unable to resist as the emotional toll this takes on them is quite high.

A variety of reports and testimonies are linked in this article regarding the harvesting and removal of organs throughout the years by Israel (click). The most damning of the evidence is a testimony by Dr. Meira Weiss in her book "Over Their Dead Bodies." The article has a translated passage from Hebrew about the period at the turn of the century and their practices then (roughly 1996-2002):

“They would take corneas, skin, and heart valves, while noting that non-professionals would not notice the absence of these organs as they would place something plastic in place of the corneas and ‘take’ the skin from the back so that the family wouldn’t see it. In addition, the bodies of detained martyrs are used in medical colleges at Israeli universities for research purposes.” Weiss confirmed that “in the first Intifada, the army effectively allowed the institute to extract organs from Palestinians under a military procedure that required the autopsy of a Palestinian prisoner. The autopsy procedure was accompanied by organ removal, which was used by the Israeli Skin Bank established in 1985 to treat burns suffered by Israeli soldiers. This was after the Chief Rabbinate Council issued a ruling legitimizing it, which led to saving the lives of many Israelis who were injured during attacks on Palestinian citizens, continuous assaults, and wars — at the expense of Palestinian martyrs, according to specialized Israeli medical sources for burn treatment.”

It's worthy to note: as an occupying force especially, Israel should not be doing ANYTHING with these bodies and just returning them to the families. I've seen some people say "they didn't JUST harvest Palestinians' organs, they also harvested Israeli organs." It doesn't matter. They are an occupying force that enacts systematic violence on Palestinians especially and within this context, anything Israel does towards Palestinians is a targeted, racialized violence. It is widely known that Israel denies crimes it has committed until many, many years, especially from during the Nakba, such as well poisoning.

People provide evidence that organs can't be used after a certain point in time.... in this context (October 2023-December 2023), it's not about whether or not the organs were used for anything. It is specifically for the purpose of body desecration which Israeli soldiers especially have not been shy about. Here is a report during the bulldozer massacre in which people report that Israeli soldiers run over bodies for no other reason than desecration (click).

Also, remember the grave desecration that happened a few days ago? It was reported that they had stolen bodies believed to belong to young Palestinian activists then (click). This is widely known as 'necroviolence' on Palestinian bodies in order to humiliate them (click).

You cannot remove the context of an oppressive force (Israel) that is documented to have disrespected graves and bodies. You must analyze it within this context, not any others. Withholding bodies of Palestinians, no matter what they did while they were alive, is a form of disrespect and oppression on a subjugated population. To deny that this happens and to attribute it to antisemitism is not only disrespectful of Palestinians' mourning rights, but also an effort to remold the narrative into one of "Jewish people against Palestinians" by emphasizing the Jewishness of the occupying force rather than focusing on... you know... the fact that they're an occupying force known to enact violence on Palestinian martyrs.

[theveryworstthing]

time to learn a little bit about the Yells. i've been writing a few lore posts for a while and instead of continuing to let they grow and fretting over them, i think i'm just going to throw a few out there and try to finish up the rest this week.

The Yells

Despite their imposing size, strange behaviors, and mysterious keepers, the Signallusc (or The Yells as most rabbits call them) are considered just another part of the island landscape. These towering faux trees serve as the island version of radio towers, and make all radio communication above and below ground possible.

Though the 2 largest of the naturally formed Yells are still upright and active (and heavily protected so that their natural life cycle can be properly studied), these days rabbits prefer to cultivate the towers so that they don’t grow in problematic areas or do…other things.

Wild or free growth Yells make their homes in dead rotting wood as natural decomposers, and many live out their lives as simple slime molds (or as simple as any slime mold can be). Certain conditions must be met to trigger the drastic color change and vertical growth that make them viable for communication use, and so wild Yells are usually found growing in small clusters in or around the resources they need to sustain their new forms. Dead trees or stumps with roots still in the ground are prime hosts for these slime molds and they’re actually seen as beneficial since they stabilize potentially dangerous dead trees and kill diseases or especially destructive insects that might harm surrounding living trees. Once inside these dead trees the slime mold eats them from the inside out, taking the branches first, and then devouring the mass from the top down.

Compared to other slime molds they can handle direct sunlight quite well, but wild yells still tend to favor hosts in shady areas and from the way these trees are devoured they seem to try and keep some sort of shell around them for as long as possible. This wooden shell not only serves as food, but also gives the growing Yell a moist, dark, home until its outer membrane is thick and strong enough to handle being constantly exposed. When wild Yells “die”, it’s usually because they’ve run out of host tree long ago, and have stiffened into a rigid structure that eventually cracks (usually due to being struck by lightning) and crumbles, releasing clouds of spores. The remains of a Yell dissolve in the first rain after they fall and tend to leave the area around the strange lotus pod-ish pit in the ground where “roots” used to be spotless, but smelling very metallic with a hint of foulness. Almost like not so fresh blood.

Through the observations recorded by island botanists and the specific botanical sect known as the Antenna, rabbits (and hares, as they were the first to investigate and made great strides in understanding the process before they left the island en masse) have learned exactly what triggers Yell vertical growth and have used this knowledge to cultivate Yells quite successfully. A combination of owl feathers, metal ore (mainly bog iron), charcoal sticks and or ash (best if created by lightning strike, wood preferred but animal remains like burned out hawks are perfectly acceptable), and a little starter wood are fed to the slime mold, and after it’s broken everything down it begins its transformation. It is then introduced to a host plant sprout, a type of fast growing, woody, creeping vine in the Grasp family bred specifically for this purpose (wild cultivars work fine but they’re half as hardy and the bond has a greater chance of triggering very upsetting mutations. These are different from the upsetting mutations, which are fine and harmless). From then on the slime mold seems to guide the host plant’s growth, forming a shell from the vines that is constantly growing and shedding. This serves as both a home and an ample food source.

The botany world is torn on whether this forms a mutualistic symbiotic relationship or whether it’s straight up parasitism. And yes, plant nerd blood has been spilled over this argument. Not a ton of blood, it’s not like this is the great lichen wars, but still.

The Antenna

All yell care-taking is done by the Antenna sect. This is a mysterious group of witchy botanists and engineers who, like the previously referred to upsetting mutations, are harmless despite their entire vibe. Well. Harmless enough for botanists anyway.

Not a lot is known about them by the general public but they keep things working smoothly and show up quickly when something isn’t.

Members of this sect haven’t had a set “look” or uniform for about a generation and a half due to the ending of a lot of the the founding member’s bloodlines, but each Yell site has it’s own culture that attracts certain kinds of people. Despite their differences, there are a few things that make Antennae easier to pick out of a crowd if you know what to look for. The skin of their inner ears develop thin branching markings or wave-like ripples depending on how they interact with Yells. Some have obvious hare ancestry and sport roughly branching horns that grow quite long and shed every year (these shed horns are fed to the Yells). Newer members wear a lot of lightweight ear jewelry to help pick up important signals and behavioral quirks from the Yells, but the longer they stay in the Antenna the less tolerant they are of this. Things get…loud. Behind their eyes. Inside their teeth. Seasoned members usually can’t stand wearing any metal jewelry at all. The head botanist of one of the most remote Yells wears ear plugs almost 24/7 because of left behind shrapnel from an accident in his youth.

He is deaf.

He says he’s not really blocking anything out, just sorting it properly.

No one really knows what he means. It’s fine.

[seresinhangmanjake]

He Will Hope

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: Feyd is obsessed with his bride from the moment he sees her, but on their wedding night he finds out she might not feel the same. (Angst, but hopeful ending)

Warnings/Notes: Feyd POV, pre-smut and smutty-ish intentions (if that makes sense? idk, ignore me), instantly-in-love Feyd, unwanted marriage, baby(heir) talk, typos. Can absolutely be read alone, but also serves as something of a prequel to Do You Love? (same world, but big time skip), so I tried to kind of echo that with specific lines.

Words: 1500

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

You’re so…beautiful. He didn’t expect a peace offering to be this perfect. Yes, he knew his bride would be a daughter of a Great House, but you are one of many sisters and Feyd did not imagine your father would send him the loveliest of his bunch. 

It’s a loveliness that has you sticking out like a sore thumb on Giedi Prime. Hair and makeup and wedding dress styled in the traditions of your home world glue all eyes to you as you walk down the aisle, and he likes that there is so much attention on you. It makes his inability to cease staring more acceptable. 

Harkonnens are not meant to be enthralled by their brides at first glance. Discouraged, even, from caring about their appearance at all. ‘Brides are meant for breeding,’ his uncle told him as a child, ‘It does not matter what they look like.’ But he was not told what to do or how to act in the event the bride makes his heart involuntarily skip a beat. 

Maybe if your heart was reacting in the same manner navigating this new feeling would be less intimidating, but the tears streaming down your cheeks suggest that's far from the case. You can barely look at him and he’s not sure you would be able to speak if it was required of you, but thankfully, verbal agreements are not part of marriage ceremonies on Giedi Prime. 

When he takes hold of your hand and slices your palm with his knife, you give no indication of pain. You are supposed to do the same to him but you seem nervous enough as it is, so he makes the three-inch long slash in his skin for you before pressing his palm against yours. The mixing of blood is a swearing of fidelity from husband to wife and wife to husband; a tradition and promise that wore down with time as concubines became more common. But he will not do that to you. You will be his one, his only, and if he can help it, he will be yours. 

He barely detects the words declaring you married. They're dull and bubbly in his ears as if he's sunk under the surface of his bath water because he's too focused on your mouth. Your plush lips are pink and plump and glistening, and he wants them. So he takes them before he's told to do so.

You taste different than the Harkonnen women he’s had. There is salt from tears, but something distinctly you seeps through. It's sweeter. A bit intoxicating. The kind of taste that collars and leashes the unruliest of men, and he wants more. Much more. But there are too many eyes, some of which are full of relief at the match finally solidified while others are prying and suspicious. If he keeps his lips on yours too long, questions will begin to form from certain witnesses—Does he like her? Does he want her? Can she be used? Can she control him?—and the answer will be plainly obvious.

When he breaks the kiss, your eyelashes flutter with the gentle opening of your eyes and he knows then that nothing—no convincing from advisors, no threats from his uncle, no hatred on your end—could ever have him willing to detach himself and use you for the sake of an heir only to discard you later. You are his wife now, you will be the Baroness upon his uncle’s death, and he will protect you from anyone who values you for the sole purpose of providing a child. 

—

He sees that your assigned servants have quickly learned to manage your hair and clothing. By the time they deliver you to him, the pins have been removed from the twist on your head, letting the strands hang loose to frame your face, and you’ve been unstitched from that heavy gown to be dressed in night clothes from your home. He provided you with a nightgown, so he wonders if wearing the thin dress was your choice or your parents' idea to make you undeniably enticing, but either way, it’s effective. 

What drapes over your body is nothing like the opaque blacks and straight lines of Harkonnen attire. It's intricate both in color and design; flowing fabric that shimmers when you make the slightest movements and, at the moment, does little to hide your shape and curves. 

As you stand in front of him, patiently awaiting instructions, he can only stare at what’s on display. Pebbled nipples, a plane of smooth skin down to your navel, your slit and the folds between your legs—he wants it all. All of you. Now. Here. Wherever he can have you. 

Rising from the chair where he’d been waiting, he dissolves the space between you. His arm snakes around your waist. His hand slides across your cheek to the back of your head. Lips slam into yours, chests meeting despite that sliver of fabric, and he tastes that taste again, instinctually feeling a need to lift his chin, bare his neck, and let you tighten that collar.

It takes you a few seconds but when your lips start to move, he kisses you harder, pulls you closer, weaves his fingers through your hair and lightly tugs. He guides you backward toward the bed, skin warming at the image of sliding the nightgown down your body. That warmth fans into pure fire and he can’t stop kissing you, can’t stop taking from you, collecting what little you’re willing to give him. Two of his fingers tuck themselves under one strap of the nightgown and begin to slip it down your shoulder. 

But then he stops. 

He stops because your lips freeze.

He stops because you're starting to shake under his fingertips.

He pulls back to look at you and it’s undeniable, so terribly undeniable, and he feels a bit ill. “You don’t want this,” he states. 

You don’t answer; you just stare up at him with those doe eyes that he can now see are full of fear, and his heart squeezes. His gut tightens. He suddenly has the urge to throw things, break things, watch things shatter to pieces because you don’t want him. His own wife doesn’t want his touch and he does not like this—not at all—but you’re scared, and he doesn’t like that even more. 

Sighing, he resets the strap on your shoulder, drops his hands from your body, and steps away. 

“I'll leave you alone,” he says. But as he passes by you, you grab onto his wrist. 

“We have to,” you rush out. “They'll know if we don't.”

He shakes his head. “They won't know anything that happens between us unless I allow it,” he tells you.

“B–But they expect an heir.”

“Yes. And eventually, we will have to produce one. That does not mean we have to share a bed tonight if that is not what you want, and it's clear that is not what you want,” he says a little too harshly. He isn’t trying to be snippy, none of this is your fault, but it hurts, and not in the way he enjoys.

You suck in a sharp breath as if preparing to argue, but then something shifts in your eyes. Instead, you say, “Where will you go?”

“The adjoining room,” he answers, nudging his head to the door on the opposite wall: the room for the concubines that he will never take. You turn to get a look.

“Oh,” you swallow. “O-Ok.” 

He grants himself a few more moments to study you, to soak in your soft and delicate features and the swollen lips he cannot have before he walks away, leaving you behind for the bed he had no intention of ever sleeping in. 

When he reaches the door, he glances over his shoulder to get one last look. You’re facing away from him, sitting on the mattress with your head low, your back arched forward and arms wrapped around your middle. You look small like that, slowly huddling into a ball, and he’d do anything to make it stop. Because you are his. His wife. His na-Baroness. He’s well aware he’ll fall for you in no time—it’s already begun—and he wants you to be happy with him. 

But you're not. And that already threatens the predictability of your future together. These foreign feelings he has for you are not guaranteed to be requited; something he isn't sure how to accept, and yet he may not have a choice. He cannot force your affection. He cannot demand you grow to love him. All he can do is try and hope that one day, he will win you over.

So that is what he does.

---

@avidreader73 @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @workof-a-rr-t

[brucewaynehater101]

I need you to stop me from making another Tim Drake centric fic

I got this random idea that won’t leave me alone

like what if the emotional scars and trauma people have show up physically too most commonly as little cracks on the skin and all of the bats have them

they hide them tho with make up and stuff so people don’t question it except Tim hides them from everyone maybe bc that’s what his parents taught him to do maybe bc he just doesn’t want to burden any of the bats

the bats think that Tim is fine so to them he’s invincible which leads them to treat him as such subconsciously or otherwise especially Bruce

it takes a lot for something to be bad enough that they physically manifest and Tim has A LOT bc everyone thinks he’s invincible

:) it won’t leave me alone help me I beg of you

Hmm.... Let's add on, shall we? This is a very rad idea. You should definitely write a fic about it, but no pressure.

Mind if I explore it? Also, feel free to disregard any part below you don't want/disagree with. This is just brainstorming ^^

Alright. Emotional scars are a physical mark on someone's skin.

Similar to regular scars, they can fade as a person heals.

Some may never disappear, and some only appear for a short time.

What would their color be?

Would they look like actual cracks in a person (so black-ish in color)? Would they be gold or multi-colored (different colors represent different kinds of emotional traumas)?

The level of hurt inflicted is directly proportional to the size (length and width) of the scar.

Perhaps more could be deduced from the general shape (is it jagged? A single line? Branching?)

Not all people have these marks

Most of the population manifests them. There's some prejudice against folk who don't [something something they are heartless, incapable of feelings, not able to be emotionally hurt, cold, detached, etc.], but hiding scars is also common. Therefore, it's harder to discern whether someone is hiding their marks or markless. It's a very fine line, so most people allow a smaller mark to show every once in a while. There's even a few trends to proudly display all marks.

Marks appear at the time of the emotional harm

It may not be apparent at the time due to the location, but the individual being hurt will manifest the mark at the very moment of emotional harm.

Anyways, that's the background stuff. Fun, but let's get into Tim specifically ^^

Tim's parents are part of the few who believe that showing off your scars to anyone, even your loved ones, is both a weakness and a way to guilt-trip people. Therefore, through their archeology studies, they managed to obtain magical objects to prevent the showing of emotional marks. It's similar to glamor.

Tim's object can change forms to suit his needs (so a ring at one moment and an earring the next). This ability prevents the Bats from discovering it.

Janet fakes a very small mark on her hand when she wants to discourage any rumors that's she's incapable of manifesting marks. For Tim, though, his parents wanted him to have rumors of being incapable of forming marks. It served their purpose better for him being the cunning Drake heir.

The deception started from birth, so no one but the Drakes know of Tim's ability to form marks [and the Drake parents never see the marks they leave behind on their child].

The Waynes, long before Tim entered their life, were aware of these rumors. Thus, when Tim demands to become Robin, he doesn't correct their assumptions.

Bruce is a callous fucker to Tim at the start. If Tim can't be hurt emotionally, then Bruce's ill-treatment of him is fine (which is flawed logic. The markless can be emotionally hurt, and they still deserve kindness, dignity, and respect even if they couldn't. Bruce was mentally fucked up, but it doesn't excuse his treatment).

Eventually, Bruce comes to the second realization that Tim should still be treated well even if it doesn't hurt him regardless. The man's behavior is better, but he still has the notion in mind that Tim can't be emotionally hurt. He uses this for missions and to downplay the way his other kids treat Tim (specifically Jason and Damian when they first meet Tim).

Tim gets used to a rotation of insult-names: Robot Robin, heartless, markless (said insultingly), cold-blooded, unfeeling bastard, etc.

He's also subject to a TON of misunderstandings. People are more reluctant to love him due to the belief that he can't love them back. He gets yelled at and told off for "masking/faking his emotions" when he's actually being genuine.

Which adds to his hurt :)

He also has to pretend not to grieve his parents when they die :(

Due to how rare markless are, the Bats don't meet "another" one until after the BruceQuest. When they chat with this person, they realize how many misconceptions they have about them (such as the markless being incapable of feelings. In fact, they accidentally offend that person when they tell the other they don't need to fake their emotions in front of the Bats. Safe to say, the markless individual becomes incensed when they realize how they've been treating their own markless family member).

This would be at least four (probably closer to five) years after Tim first became Robin. The entire family has a meltdown.

Tim, on the other hand, is used to the treatment the Bats have been giving him and becomes incredibly uncomfortable with them trying to care for his feelings and whatnot. It's rocky for a long while as everyone tries to seek forgiveness for something Tim bitterly doesn't hold against them (he is lying to them after all).

Tim rarely, if ever, views his own marks. The last time he checked was when he was having his identity crisis after Robin was taken from him. His entire body, from head to toe, had cracks in it. There was a giant, gaping crack on his back for the metaphorical stab in the back it was.

And we haven't even gotten to when the Bats figure out Tim was never markless :)

[chevroletdean]

masturbation [dean winchester] ── ✮⋆˙

kinktober 2024 (open to suggestions for this year's list) ship: dean x afab!fem!reader genre: smut to note/warnings: explicit – minors dni, vague descriptions of the reader, horny dean and mentions of his porn addiction, panties word count: 1.1k

People don’t call Dean a porn-addict for no reason.

His laptop has frozen on questionable websites more than he cared to admit and there’s also the not so subtly hidden stash of magazines scattered across his room. Some are carelessly shoved under his bed, for others he at least had put in the effort of storing them in the drawer of his desk.

However, despite his impressive collection, they pretty much only serve the purpose of collecting dust nowadays. At most, they had a collectible value, or some nostalgic keepsake. But they don‘t come in handy as much as they used to.

After all, why would he need any of that when the mere thought of you is enough to drive him insane?

Memories of you, specifically of the two of you together, are organized and cataloged in his brain more neatly than the special editions of his zines could ever be. And replaying them in his mind makes him harder than any video ever could.

There’s the vivid image of the first time you shared a motel bed with him – sprawled beneath him with your hair a messy halo that spilled across the pillow, framing that flushed face of yours.

Or that one evening that ended up in both of you being a little more than tipsy and a lot more than touchy – he can practically taste the whiskey on his tongue whenever he thinks about your hot tongue pushing against his. He can certainly feel the ghost of your touch across his heated skin, your hands uncharacteristically soft for a hunter’s.

In fact, everything about you is so damn soft.

Your pretty lips, whether they’re locked with his or wrapped around his cock. Your voice whenever you let out those shaky breaths and sinful moans. Your curves, especially those damn hips of yours that he loves to latch onto with a death grip every time he sinks into you and drowns in you.

Like last night in the backseat of his car, you straddling his lap in nothing but those cute little panties and that pretty bra. His favorite set; the lacy one with the tiny bow in the front, green in color (you insisted they are sage when you bought them, but he only remembers that because you also mentioned they’d match his eyes — and they say romance is dead).

Your body curved into a perfect arch while his mouth moved from your jaw down to your chest, his tongue circling your nipples through the thin lace and his large hands sliding around your back to undo the clasp with a mixture of practiced ease and the usual impatience.

He always wants to take his time with you and then he never follows through with it, because he can‘t wait to feel your tight heat envelope all of him.

“I’m never gonna find that one again,” you had protested as he tossed the garment somewhere to the front seat. Your pout made him want to kiss you until your lungs ache from the lack of oxygen. 

Other than that, your complaints did little to distract him from the task at hand, which was shifting you on his lap, his hungry fingers hooking through the waistband of your underwear.

“I‘ll make it up to you,” he whispered, his promise wrapped up in his hot breath and darkened eyes, like a little present. “Lift your hips for me, baby.”

Baby. Him calling you that never failed to send shivers down your spine. It was a loving nickname he had reserved for his beloved car, and maybe you should take offense to the fact that he’d put you on the same level as a vehicle, but he’d always say it with such reverence. As if you were above it all.

You bit your bottom lip, a sight that made his grip on you tighten further, and obediently lifted your hips, enough for Dean to pull the lace down your legs. “Are you gonna toss them somewhere around here too?”

“No, sweetheart,” he chuckled whilst he slowly removed your panties, his hands running along your skin and his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “These are going in my pocket for safekeeping.”

He carefully folded the lace, slipping the panties into his jeans as if they were something precious. Something to be treasured.

And they were. They are.

Why else would he have the lace scrunched up in his fist right now, along with his throbbing cock?

The texture of the lace wrapped around his arousal doesn‘t compare to your warm cunt clenching around him, of course. But damn it all if stroking himself with the panties that would cover your pretty pussy doesn‘t come close.

Dean‘s head rolls back against the headboard of his bed and his legs tense and stretch over the mattress as he continuously works his hand up and down on himself. He‘s all ragged breaths, heaving chest and fluttering eyes and he can‘t help but wish you were here.

He grunts quietly at the idea of you walking in on him like this.

How beautifully your eyes would widen if you got to watch him drench your panties in his precum. Fuck, maybe you‘d lend him a helping hand and make sure not a drop goes to waste. Your delicate fingers always look so good around his length and Dean bets the sage green lace would only enhance the sight.

Maybe you‘d even put them on right after, soiled and covered in his seed, practically marked by his scent.

Dean‘s breath hitches in his throat at the mental image he has just painted. That fantasy of you walking around in dirty panties does something to him, something that makes the jerking motion of his hand increase in pace. His hips meet the thrusts with purpose at this point, the added friction of your underwear pushing him closer to the edge in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

Your name falls from his lips, his voice merely above a whisper and trembling at that.

God, he misses you. Your smile, your touch. If only he could touch you right now, let his hands wander across every dip and curve of your body. But you‘re out helping a friend with a case and he can only resort to touching himself, and to pathetically using your clothes as a substitute.

His hips buck upwards and stutter and he glances down on himself. His thighs flex briefly, his dick twitches in his hand and he hisses through his teeth as thick, white beads spill through the green lace. They sit atop the fabric like pearls for only a second, before the material soaks some of it up, the sage tone darkening into a wet spot. The rest of his release dribbles down, coating his fingers and sticking to the garment.

credit & links: ao3 ──〃★ dividers ──〃★ request here ──〃★ kinktober

taglist: comment a green heart 💚 to be added to the dean x reader taglist (please note: ageless blogs will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts)

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

What did Sauron meant by “Not All of It” in 2x08?

Did Sauron deceive Galadriel all along, when he was pretending to be “just Halbrand”? Was he even pretending, to begin with? Did he seduced her on purpose and to manipulate her? Which part was true? And what was the deception?

To find the answer, we need to look at the visual clues, more specifically the color code of Sauron in “Rings of Power”:

Red

Red is a color that, in “Rings of Power”, has appeared in association with Sauron’s deceptions and treachery, over and over again.

On the negative side, the color red is, symbolically associated with danger, aggression, dominance, power and betrayal. In some cultures, red is associated with evil and death.

2x01: Sauron demands the Orcs’ allegiance (and he’s accused of straight-out lying, in this scene).

1x05: Galadriel’s vision on Palantír has a red stripe to foreshadow the “fall of Númenor” plot (triggered by Sauron).

1x05 and 1x06: Bits of red on Halbrand’s Númenórean armor = King of the Southlands’ deception.

1x07: Halbrand injury on the blast of Mount Doom, and creation of Mordor.

2x01: Adar and his tale of Sauron giving him red wine on *that* peak.

2x02: Celebrimbor falling prey to Sauron’s deception (he’s wearing red + red wine).

2x02: The background of Galadriel’s vision about Celebrimbor.

2x03: Ar-Pharazôn wears red to Míriel’s coronation to foreshadow the “fall of Númenor” plot (triggered by Sauron).

2x07: The missing ruby on Fëanor’s hammer (Sauron’s illusion on Celebrimbor).

2x07: Sauron displays the red blood on his wound (to instigate the guards to confine Celebrimbor in the forge tower for him to finish the Nine).

2x08: The arrows that Sauron shots at Celebrimbor (the ultimate betrayal).

Green

Then we have green, the complementary color to red (meaning they are in opposite sides of the color wheel). In Design, there is an unspoken rule that “red and green should not be seen together”. Hence its safe to admit that green, in Sauron’s color code in “Rings of Power”, also serves the opposite purpose of red.

Green is the color of health (healing), and is symbolically associated with hope, growth, rebirth, balance, fertility and prosperity.

1x02: Sauron first meets Galadriel (a new beginning, full of hope and potential).

1x02: The stone on Halbrand’s pouch (King of the Southlands heraldry) is green (the “new life” and “some place better” that Diarmid promises him in 2x01);

1x04: Halbrand garments on Númenor.

2x01: When Sauron “rebirths” as Halbrand form.

2x06: Celebrimbor starts to wear green once he begins to suspect Annatar’s intentions (the deception begins to crack).

In Season 2, this color becomes highly associated with Galadriel herself, as we see her wearing green dresses. This color is also used by Mirdania, at Eregion, a character that reminds Sauron of Galadriel (and he says so, himself), and the possibility of redemption he was denied.

To further solidify the idea of the colors green/red having opposite purposes/meaning in Sauron’s color code in “Rings of Power”; in 2x02, we see Celebrimbor wearing red, at Eregion; and Galadriel wearing green, in Lindon. This is meant to show to the audience that these two characters have different places in Sauron’s character arc.

It’s also worth mentioning that, in Season 2, both Mirdania and Celebrimbor were wearing green when Sauron killed them, symbolically marking the end of his redemption arc.

Blue

Halbrand/Sauron wears blue in 1x08, the episode where Halbrand is revealed to be Sauron. Blue is considered the ultimate “color of truth” and intuition.

Blue is symbolically associated with wisdom, imagination, loyalty, order and creation. In some cultures, blue is also associated with freedom, inspiration, sincerity and faith.

In 1x07, Halbrand/Sauron wears a blue cloak when he travels to Eregion with Galadriel, to be healed by the Elves. Throughout History, blue has been associated with royalty, yes, but this is a odd color for Sauron to wear, nonetheless.

In 1x08, while at Eregion, Halbrand/Sauron is also wearing blue, after his healing and while working at the forge (and “nerding out” with Celebrimbor).

Based on Tolkien lore, I would say that blue, in “Rings of Power”, is associated with Mairon (not Sauron), since it symbolizes the qualities he was designed to embody by Eru himself, before Morgoth’s corruption: goodness, trustworthy, creation, and order.

This could provide an explanation as to why Sauron didn’t “soiled” the Three Elven rings of power with evil, when he spent so much time at Eregion with Celebrimbor in 1x08, handling the mithril and testing different alloys, and the “eye of Sauron” even appears as the metals combine to make the Three.

What we, the audience, saw in 1x08 was a glimpse of the original Mairon (blue), after his healing process (redemption) was triggered by Galadriel’s light (green). At the beginning, Mairon was one of the most powerful Maiar, and the purest one, too. And these were the qualities that transferred onto the Three, in contrast with the cruelty, malice and deception of the Seven and Nine. More; this can also explain the healing properties of the Three (because Mairon, himself, was healing).

When Mairon is tortured by Waldreg and the Orcs, at Adar’s orders, in 2x01, he’s also wearing blue. This is a callback to the unspeakable tortures he endured under Morgoth, to bind him to darkness, and to power. Hence, the repentant Mairon begins to disappear, making way to Sauron.

What all of this means?

Red (the color associated with Sauron’s deception) only appeared on Halbrand/Sauron and Galadriel interactions, back on Season 1, on two occasions:

When he accepts to be “King of the Southlands”;

His injury due to eruption of Mount Doom (to bring him into Elven territory).

The use of the colors green and blue on Sauron’s arc in Season 1, can confirm that Sauron was, indeed, on his “repentant era”.

“Halbrand” was the original Mairon, and we see a lot of his primordial personality traits (before Morgoth’s corruption) on Halbrand’s character: good, loyal, generous, creative and highly intelligent. Charismatic but a bit withdrawn (he only opens up with Galadriel). Not outright antisocial but usually on the background, a follower and not a leader (the Maia in service of a Vala). And of course, his love and talent for smithing and craftsmanship (Maia of Aulë).

The “Halbrand” that Galadriel fell in love with, was, in fact, “Mairon the Admirable” seeking redemption.

Halbrand/Mairon wears green because he’s seeking redemption and a new beginning (rebirth);

Galadriel starts to be visually associated with this color because she’s the embodiment of the redemption Marion seeks;

Halbrand wears blue in 1x07 and 1x08 because “redeemed Mairon” is starting to come through.

Why was Halbrand/Mairon shamelessly flirting with Galadriel, then?

Because repentant Mairon was attracted to her, on a physical and spiritual level (they are both immortal spirits).

I’ll quote myself, here:

Mairon was created by Eru as a Maia of Aulë, the Vala (God) of smithing and handiwork, yes. He was among the most powerful Maiar. Eru created him to be good and trustworthy, but also to love several things: crafting, creation, beauty, order and perfection, and to dislike wastefulness.

And who better embodies the qualities of “beauty” and “perfection” than Galadriel herself? Her beauty is the stuff of legends, and everyone is at awe when they first meet her. Her very gold/silver hair inspired the most legendary jewels in existence: the Silmarils. The light of the Two Trees of Valinor shine on her hair and eyes. How could Sauron/Mairon not love her? That’s the question. She’s the materialization, the physical form, of everything he was designed to love.

The color code on Sauron’s arc in “Rings of Power” tells us, the audience, that the mutual attraction and connection Halbrand/Mairon and Galadriel shared was real. It wasn’t a deception on his part, nor did it had any hidden motive.

Mairon flirted with Galadriel because, like they say, he really wanted to “tap that”, “shake the sheets (or the forge table)”, “Netflix and chill” all night long, whatever you prefer. And she wanted the same, as confirmed by Charlotte Brändström.

In both 1x05 and 1x06, when Halbrand/Mairon shares intimate moments with Galadriel, the bits of red (deception) of his armor are hidden, either by a cloak, or by camera work (focus on his face). This artistic choice means there was no deception there. It was real.

And both Sauron’s deceptions with Galadriel, back in Season 1, had the purpose of keeping her close to him:

Accepting the “King of the Southland” role: Galadriel was leaving for Middle-earth, leaving him behind in Númenor;

Bringing him into Elven territory: Mairon didn’t know Galadriel would take him to Eregion to meet Celebrimbor (in show canon, she lives in Lindon, not Eregion).

Why? Because Mairon craved her light, and, like it has been established by the color code, Galadriel embodies the redemption he desperately seeks. Hence, he wants to be around her, and keeping her close. Galadriel represents his chance of redeeming himself after everything he has done under Morgoth.

And, in 1x08, when Galadriel denies his offer, it symbolizes the denial of his redemption:

Galadriel: You are a friend of Morgoth’s.

Sauron: When Morgoth was defeated, it was as if a great, clenched fist had released its grasp from my neck. And in the stillness of that first sunrise, at last, I felt the light of The One again. And I knew if ever I was to be forgiven… That I had to heal everything that I had helped ruin.

Galadriel: No penance could ever erase the evil you have done.

Mairon, then realizes, there will be no redemption for him. Redemption and Galadriel’s light have been denied to him. And, so, he falls back into his old ways under Morgoth, back into evil.

They say that Morgoth found the Silmarils so beautiful that after he’d stolen them, for weeks he could do nothing but stare into their depths. It was only after one of his tears fell upon the jewels and he was faced with the evil of his own reflection that the reverie was finally broken. From that moment, he looked upon their light no more. Fëanor's work nearly turned the heart of the Great Foe himself…”

Celebrimbor to Elrond, 1x01

It's not strength that overcomes darkness but light. For in its presence, all darkness must flee.

Celebrimbor to Galadriel, 2x07

In the vision Mairon shows Galadriel in 1x08, there is no red (deception), only blue and light. The spikes of his crown are, also, fading away, meant to symbolize his redemption, with Galadriel at his side. A lot of fans assume this is a vision of Dark!Galadriel, but they are wrong.

This means that Galadriel, indeed, could have helped Mairon achieve the redemption he was seeking.

We foresaw that if Galadriel’s search should have continued, she might have inadvertently kept alive the very evil she sought to defeat. For the same wind that seeks to blow out a fire may also cause its spread.

Gil-galad to Elrond, 1x01

The true meaning of this quote is: Galadriel didn’t f*cked up because she found Halbrand/Sauron and brought him back to Middle-earth. She screwed up because she denied Mairon his chance at redemption: not only by rejecting him, but, mostly, because she exposed him at Eregion and cause him to flee.

It was Galadriel’s pride that caused her to confront and expose Halbrand as Sauron. The pride that every single character has been warning her about, and the reason why she’s banished from Valinor, in the first place. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to tell Celebrimbor and Elrond about Halbrand’s true identity because, yes, of her wounded pride. And she allows the Three rings of power to be made.

In “Rings of Power”, it was Galadriel’s pride that condemned Middle-earth to Sauron’s tyranny, and I hope the show explores this further.

In Season 2, Sauron still believes that he, truly, wants to heal Middle-earth. But this isn’t the case anymore, because his redemption was cut short. This is confirmed by Celebrimbor in 2x07, when he says to Sauron/Annatar: “you truly are the Great Deceiver. You can even deceive yourself.”

But that boat has sailed. There is no more redemption’s arc for Mairon. That was Season 1. In Season 2, he’s now embracing his arc as “shadow of Morgoth”. And so, green and blue won’t be present on his color code anymore, as red takes the spotlight, alongside black to embody his role as the new Dark Lord.

What now?

Sauron and Galadriel are now bound together, since he forced their bloods to unite using Morgoth’s crown, in 2x08. They now have a open line to each other’s soul, mind and everything else. And this will come into play in Season 3.

One of Galadriel’s inner conflicts in Season 2 was the idea that “Halbrand” was nothing more than one of Sauron’s illusions and that he deceived her, all along. In Season 3 and through being bound together with Sauron, she’ll probably realize this isn’t the case, and that Halbrand was very much real, and, in fact, Mairon in seek of redemption. How will this play out, I have no idea. But there’s a lot of potential here.

And in Season 2 we were told that Elven memories don’t dim. Meaning; the memory of Halbrand/Mairon and their love for each other and “what could have been”, will haunt Galadriel forever (yes, even after Celeborn returns).

[wandaslittlelove]

Bad Familiar

Pairing: Rio vidal x reader, Agatha harkness x Rio vidal Warnings: Angst, Character death

No one ever prepares a familiar for what happens when their witch decides they aren’t needed anymore.

For as long as you could remember you had been by Rio’s side. Doing and being whatever she needed of you. It was your job after all. Being her familiar meant that your whole purpose was to serve her. Whatever she needed you would do it in a heartbeat. At first everything was great. Rio had Loved you. But then she met Agatha.

At first you thought it was curiosity drawing Rio to Agatha. She still kissed you and told you she loved you so it wasn’t like anything was changing. But then she started seeking Agatha out and it felt like you were fighting for her affection. 

“Rio?” You called out into the open field. Rio had brought you both here saying she needed to speak to Agatha. They had walked off a bit claiming it was private matters so you were left standing there. Seeing a patch of flowers you had decided to make Rio a flower crown. Something she always loved when you gifted them to her. It had been a couple hours now and with the crown finished and held gently in your hands you went off to find her. You could feel that she wasn’t far, a perk of being connected to her.

When you did find her though you wished you hadn’t. There sitting against a Tree was Rio with her lips connected to Agatha’s. Your heart cracked as you quickly dropped the flower crown and ran off. It felt like your whole world came tumbling down. You were literally made for her. You couldn’t understand why this was happening. Tripping over a tree root you fell to the ground with a harsh thud. The blood dripping down your knee barely even noticed as the words ‘Bad Familiar’ echoed in your mind

Over time things had only gotten worse. Rio scarcely kissed you anymore and the only time she told you she loved you was when you did something she wanted. She had also started spending less time with you and more time with Agatha. The cottage you two shared seemed empty most of the time. 

It was the middle of the night when you were woken up to the bend dipping. Rio had spent the day collecting bodies and what not while you had spent it in the cottage trying to ignore the burning feeling throughout your body. It was a feeling no familiar wanted to feel. The feeling that they were becoming unwanted. That their witch was starting to forget them. The feeling of burned away from the inside. A feeling that always led to death.

The bed dipped further as Rio melted into the sheets beside you. You waited silently for her to wrap her arms around you like she had done countless times. Waited for her to whisper those three little words into your ear. But it never came. Instead you could feel the warmth of tears falling down your face. Eventually you feel asleep with the words ‘Bad Familiar’ replaying in your head.

The burning had only gotten worse from that night. Your body temperature had grown warmer as you started to fall ill. Rio had never noticed though. Too busy pursuing Agatha to see the way your skin grew paler and the harsh coughs that racked your body. 

Despite the pain, your excitement grew. Familiar day wasn’t far away. The one day every year made specifically for Witches and their familiars. A day that strengthened the bond. A whole day with Rio was just what you needed. She always ignored her duties to spend time with you for the whole day. Most of the day the witch and their familiar would just spend time together. At night was when everything magical happened. Underneath the full moon the witch and their familiar would sit in a small circle. They would take a blade and slice their hands to bring them together. The magic in their blood would respond, strengthening the bond between the two. It was the only time Rio could bleed and it was for you.

You planned the whole day out. Activities that you knew she loved. You had even gotten her a bouquet of flowers, black roses. Her favorite. Though when you woke up that day the bed beside you was empty. You had gotten out of bed thinking that she was already up. But the cottage was empty. The burning inside you increased but you tried to ignore it. Holding onto that little bit of hope that she would show up. She wouldn’t miss the ritual… Right?

As the moon started to set, your hope was leaving with it. But then she appeared and the hope returned. There was still time!

In a haste to complete the ritual in time you had grabbed her arm eagerly and led her to the circle not paying attention as she tried to call for your attention. Though when you both got to the circle she planted her feet firmly in the earth and refused to move. You turned to look at her confused and desperate. 

“Rio what are you doing? We have to do the ritual.” You spoke as you attempted to tug on her arm again but she only looked at you with what you can only describe as pity and suddenly it clicked. She wasn’t here to do the ritual with you. 

“Agatha… She’s pregnant.” You didn’t understand what this had to do with her. “It’s mine. I came to get my stuff. I’m going to live with her.” Your body froze and stiffened at her words.

“I- I don’t understand” You whispered. The burning grew stronger and with it the urge to cough. But you held it back. You refused to show her weakness at this moment. Even if all you wanted to do was run into her arms.

“I'm gathering my stuff and leaving. Thank you for being my familiar but I don’t need you anymore.” No amount of words could describe the pain in that moment. The pain of the person you were literally made for not wanting you anymore.

Rio said nothing else as she walked away into the house. The sun rising in front of it as she gathered her stuff. As you felt the cough creep up until it was choking you. As your body grew hotter and hotter until it suddenly became cold. As the words ‘Bad familiar” was all you could think of. How you had failed her. How you weren’t enough. Until your breathing stopped. Until Rio sank into the dirt when she was called to guide your soul to the afterlife. 

No one ever prepares a witch for the pain they feel when their familiar dies.

[prettieinpink]

HOW TO START IMPLEMENTING CHANGE + STAY MOTIVATED

HAVE A REASON. It is going to be hard to start inputting change in your life if you do not even have a reason why. That reason also has to come from within, not from any other externalities (friends, school, work, family). This reason has to make you strive to be better.

If you’re unsure about your reason, write down times when you feel your happiest and when you feel your lowest, then notice any common themes. 

BUILD DISCIPLINE. Discipline is the ability to be productive without hesitation or distractions. The only way to build it, is to practice it. Do the things you need/want to do, regardless of how you feel in the present.

Just remember, that you always feel better after committing to yourself.

MAKE YOUR PLAN SUSTAINABLE. Your routines and habits you want to implement, need to be at arm’s length for you. While I do believe in challenging yourself if your mind perceives that specific activity as ‘too hard’, it is going to make you avoid that task.

This is a reaction from your ego coming out of your comfort zone because it is so unfamiliar it wants to protect if anything ‘bad’ happens e.g. failure, loss of control and criticism. 

Reminder, that part of you is not bad at all nor is it holding you back. It is the part of you that wants to keep you safe. For your ego to allow you to do tasks out of your comfort zone, it needs to be simple and easy. Then from there, you can build it up to your ideal habit or routine. 

MAKE YOUR ENVIRONMENT INTENTIONAL. Your mind, space and the people around you need to be decluttered and serve a purpose. For your mind, avoid feeding it with an overload of information especially if you are not going to apply it. Minimise social media use and journaling instead of looking for a quick fix. 

Your space, specifically your bedroom has to be the best place for you to grow. Everything in your room needs to serve a purpose, it has to be kept clean to ensure mind clarity and place intentional items around to support your goals (mantras, workout mat, water bottle, instruments). 

The people around you have to support you and your journey. I don’t believe in the ‘value’ or ‘worth’ people have, but rather what you think of them. Someone could be the most overachieving and productive person ever, so they may inspire you, but what if they don’t wish the best for you? People who will support you regardless are the best resource ever.

BE FLEXIBLE. The ability to edit your habits or routine when needed so you can stick to a schedule or adapt to change is a powerful but underrated skill. Anything in life can happen, but if we want to stick to our goals, we need to develop flexibility. 

The best way to develop flexibility is to try everything. For example, meditation. Do 5, 10, 15, and 20 minutes, try it in the morning, afternoon or evening, do a guided one or do it by yourself. To get flexible in a habit, you need to expand your capabilities in that habit. 

ALWAYS SOMETHING RATHER THAN NOTHING. Typically during the day, we procrastinate because we want the challenging task to be perfect or we believe there’s not enough time/resources to do it. 

However, just having that small progress each day is always better than nothing. One sentence is better than none, one healthy meal is better than none, 2 minutes of exercise is better than none etc. 

HAVE GOALS THAT YOU LIKE. The reason so many people dislike doing their habits or routines is because it’s not stuff that’s enjoyable for them. It’s habits and routines that they got online from someone completely different. 

Choose your favourite way of exercising, read your favourite books(even graphic ones!) and journal the way you want. If the steps to becoming your best self are steps that you dislike, then it is not your best self. 

IDENTIFY THE WAY YOU SELF-SABOTAGE. If you are struggling to implement change, chances are there are small self-destructive behaviours that are in your routines that hold you back. 

This could be major procrastination, doom-scrolling, an addiction or binge eating. You either have to completely extract these habits from your life or you can do these things in moderation. 

TAKE REGULAR BREAKS. If you are being productive back-to-back and not allowing yourself to cool down, your motivation will deplete quickly. Have around 1-2 hours in your day doing anything you like.

If needed, after each task, take 5-10 minutes for yourself. However, do avoid your phone for these periods and try to be present in whatever you do here. 

HAVE SOFT DAYS. Days in which you do not have to do anything hardcore or intense, and you’re just living. While yes, be somewhat productive but nothing too intense.

This can be your reset, detox or self care days, or all of them combined!

[eamour]

repetition creates belief.

if you have been consuming manifestation related content for a certain amount of time, this principle shouldn’t be that unknown to you. in both communities, law of assumption and law of attraction this concept has been taught. but why is it so important? it is really that much of significance?

definition.

to repeat means to redo or replicate. with regards to manifesting, it refers to repeating a specific sort of statement which we call "affirmations". therefore, the phrase "repetition creates belief" indicates the repetition of affirmations.

purpose.

repetition is a form of controlled and conscious thinking. it's a way of introducing yourself as well as identifying with your affirmations. with repetition, you regularly remove old beliefs that no longer satisfy you and replace them with beliefs that do serve and also benefit you. ultimately, it's a practice that's supposed to assist you in entering and remaining in the state of the wish fulfilled, persistently thinking in your favour and constantly constituting a new, desired version of yourself while changing old self-conceptions.

thought ➜ act of repetition ➜ belief

although repetition is supposed to help changing self, it’s not the repetition act itself that does. it’s YOU. repetition is only there to guide your thoughts. however, it’s up to you if you accept your new thoughts or not.

logic.

the reason why repetition helps you change and create beliefs in the first place is because through repetition, you form a feeling of naturalness. you build a feeling that becomes habitual, a feeling you can confidently return to, a feeling that's slowly starting to feel friendly and familiar, a feeling you learn to recognise and relate to.

furthermore, repetition leaves no room for opposing thoughts as you direct and dictate which thoughts you want to place your attention and awareness upon. it takes up all the space that was once dedicated and devoted to insecurity, confusion and uncertainty. it naturally defeats feelings of fear and fright while also refuting former beliefs. in addition, you become indifferent to the attainability or achievability of your desires as you cease to classify and categorise them into "realistic" and "unrealistic", "possible" and "impossible" or "logical" and "illogical"

forms.

generally, there are two ways of repetition. repeating (or affirming) from abundance and repeating from absence. in the first case, you declare from a state of acceptance and confirmation. in the second one, you declare from a state of denial and rejection. one is done aware or consciously, the other is done unaware and unconsciously (also "vainly" or from "lack").

the reason why i believe that stating something in vain is inconvenient is because it’s an empty expression, and not embodiment. manifestation is done in consciousness since consciousness is the only reality and consciousness creates reality. there is no underlying sense of identity. no identification. no change of self. and the only thing that can change reality is self. only through a change of self, you can change the world around you.

examples.

repeating one time · "hm, i don’t really know about that…"

repeating ten times · "oh, i'm suspecting i may be right."

repeating hundred times · "yes, i am absolutely correct!"

what felt really impossible and illogical to you at first will start to feel more natural and normal until you have finally accepted it to be entirely true. that’s when it becomes a definite part of your identity and who you claim to be.

with love, ella.

[cozycottagetarot]

What's Your 'It Factor'?

Notes:

'It Factor' is defined here as a standout quality or things other people would find inspiring or agree sets you apart from others in some way. I had imagined this would turn out a lot different but I noticed the reading was more so in a general sense rather than in a specific context, so do keep that in mind as you read it!

This reading is for entertainment purposes only. ✨ Please take only what resonates.

LINKS: Reading Masterlist | Dividers | Ko-Fi | Patreon | Paid Readings | Paid Readings - $10 and Under - Open 🥂

PILE 1

What are your core strengths or talents that define your unique 'it' factor?

Pile 1, your 'it' factor comes from ability to utilize to apply your skills in any area you choose to dive into. It doesn’t have to be something you’re naturally good at. As long as you set the intention to pursue something and have confidence in yourself, you’re immensely capable of achieving it. You have a unique talent for blending and transforming what you learn into other aspects of your life. It’s like you’re able to morph into whatever you decide to be, while remaining strong and successful. That adaptability and transformation is a huge part of your 'it' factor.

It might not seem like a big deal or even feel like a talent, but when you commit to something, you’re like a seed with the potential to grow abundantly. This applies not just to creative endeavors, but to any area you choose. Another big factor is your calm, quiet confidence. It’s not bold or loud but a deep knowing that you can accomplish anything you set your mind to. This self-assurance amplifies your 'it' factor.

For you, this blend of intentionality and intuition is a core strength. You might wonder how this is an 'it' factor, but it's incredibly admirable and can be applied to any area of your life. You have almost infinite potential to thrive in any space you enter; you just have to believe in your ability to do so.

Hey there! Thanks so much for checking this out. 💕 If you're curious to dive deeper, there's an extended version of this reading on Patreon. It reveals hidden qualities or talents you might not even realize you have and highlights the aspects of your personality that make you attractive and magnetic to others. 🌟 Intrigued? You can explore more here.✨

PILE 2

What is Your Core Strength or Talent That Defines Your Unique 'It' Factor?

You have a remarkable way of breathing life into the things around you, creating an aura where everything seems to work in your favor. You're incredibly magnetic, and your presence inspires others. Even when you're uncertain about where life will take you or when you feel lost, you hold onto hope and the belief that life has the potential to improve. Your ability to romanticize life makes you feel like 'it.' Even when others have a more negative perspective or tell you to be 'realistic' (rightfully so at times), you maintain your optimism and hope that things will work out, even if you can't see it yet. You also recognize your limits and understand that your nurturing energy needs to be focused on yourself as well. People often envy you because things always seem to work out in your favor.

Hey there! Thanks so much for checking this out. 💕 If you're curious to dive deeper, there's an extended version of this reading on Patreon. It reveals hidden qualities or talents you might not even realize you have and highlights the aspects of your personality that make you attractive and magnetic to others. 🌟 Intrigued? You can explore more here.✨

PILE 3

What Is Your Core Strength or Talent That Defines Your Unique 'It' Factor?

One of your most defining traits is your unwillingness to remain in situations, relationships, or mindsets that don't serve your highest good. You're not afraid to walk away or go within to set yourself up for new beginnings full of excitement and potential. This courage to venture into the unknown may be your unique 'It Factor,' bringing you unexpected but beautiful moments. From an outside perspective, it's inspiring to watch.

You do things when they're right for you, not on anyone else's schedule. If you have dependents—whether they're children, siblings, family, or even professional connections—your actions are never reckless. You make these choices to show up better for those who rely on you. You never take anyone for granted and can align your actions with the best interests of yourself and others, which is truly amazing. Your ability to pivot for the greater good of yourself and others may actually be your defining strength.

Hey there! Thanks so much for checking this out. 💕 If you're curious to dive deeper, there's an extended version of this reading on Patreon. It reveals hidden qualities or talents you might not even realize you have and highlights the aspects of your personality that make you attractive and magnetic to others. 🌟 Intrigued? You can explore more here.✨