#frustration in a nutshell

[lynxfrost13]

KLBR-S2306 “Wanze”

commissioned art by Phosology!

- pretty typical sierpinski-23 kolibri unit for a while there. She was a less seasoned kolibri and tended to be very clingy with her cadre. Her cadremates liked to tease her affectionately about it.

- Really loves physical touch of all sorts, especially having her hair played with and her face touched, it’s very soothing to her!

- Her name Wanze comes from the German word for bug/bedbug! She got it due to her clinginess. Eventually she also received the name Fehler in a derogatory way, it means bug but more in the context of an error or failure.

- Her usual duties involved shifts down in the mines to monitor gestalt workers and ensure that they weren’t being disruptive and decreasing productivity.

- during one of these shifts a few gestalts were VERY disruptive and during a scuffle involving the gestalts, Wanze, and a poor mynah unit equipped with a mining laser, Wanze received a severe head injury from the mynah suddenly misdirecting the laser and hitting her.

- That injury would have killed her if she were a gestalt, but thanks to that handy titanium skull and nearby protektors rushing her to the hospital wing to be patched up, she survived. She had to get her faceplate replaced :(

- Wanze also completely lost her bioresonance due to the accident, and the medical officer who oversaw her care, a eule named Holt, was unable to restore it, leaving her with a pretty useless kolibri.

- Holt stepped in to keep her patient alive, and after arguing that Wanze was harmless to the kolibri hivemind (now simply just not a part of it) and through being very persistent (annoying), Adler allowed for Wanze to be reassigned to more standard protektor duties since she could still be useful, with occasional check ins to make sure she wasn’t degrading.

- This was hell for Wanze for a while, adjusting to the lack of mental noise and connection to her fellow kolibris was a shock, and she was expecting to be decommissioned.

- After finding out that she had to keep living without the hivemind, Wanze became incredibly frustrated both with herself and Holt, blaming the medic for extending her suffering. The two of them had a tense relationship for a bit due to Holt not fully understanding Wanze’s grief and Wanze refusing to cooperate with Holt. They come to understand each other after some hard talks and the two become friends, and eventually fall in love.

- In many ways Holt was the only thing in Wanze’s life that made her feel comfortable, Wanze still had to sleep and share a living space with the other kolibris, which was awkward and awful for her. There was a coldness and a distance that there hadn’t been before between them. It constantly reminds her that she’s not like them anymore.

- After the accident she also tries to avoid looking at her face, especially her forehead, where there’s three dead bioresonance crystals ready to look back at her. To make her feel better Holt likes to kiss them <3

- Her days in her relationship with Holt are some of her happiest, the two of them spend a lot of time together whenever possible. Wanze loves reading with her and pestering her as part of her “patrol route”. They love bugging each other generally and are just ridiculous your honor

- Of course those happy days don’t last :)

- I talked about this before, but tldr Holt falls ill with the sickness overtaking sierpinski, and Wanze stays by her side in the hospital in between shifts. When coming in from one of those shifts Holt tried to attack her, fully corrupted by the disease. Wanze shot and killed her in self defense… now she’s all alone :(

BONUS

Pinterest Board (forever in progress)

Playlist

[sunlitpath]

Oh Apollo Phoebus

God born of light

Illuminator of the mind

Helper in distress

I call upon you tonight

To express my gratitude to you

Oh radiant one

Your warmth and light brightens my day

I love, respect and honor you

Thank you for your constant presence and assistance

[drdemonprince]

Regarding morality, i cant help it but feel like it is being used as a tool to maintain west exceptionalism/white hegemony (in the english speaking society), and Im in a phase where I just cant take it seriously anymore. Im S Korean and i felt frustrated at how the "west" painted the rise of anti feminism in south korea, as if koreans are "more sexist", as if painting the country as "morally inferior" helps women in s korea when korean feminists already go through such discrimination and prejudice. I saw some western online medias interviewing anti feminist korean men instead of, yknow, interviewing feminist women. Similar thing happened when kpop became popular; there were ppl criticizing the slave contract (it's an outdated law), plastic surgery (many western celebs also go through that), the industry being inhumane and uncanny (just blatant racism regarding Asians as "robotic, non-human") etc. None of these claims and views help to fix the issues in kpop industry. Being exposed to these types of comments really made me insecure about being korean at that time cause i would believe that my culture was "inherently morally inhumane". It sucked.

But it's not just western folks who think their "culture" is "less immoral"; while the relationship w western hegemony and koreans is really really complex, koreans tend to believe that west is "morally superior". The term westernized in korean basically means progressive, and for a long time until recently, koreans vyed (and somewhat still vyes) for western approval of their culture. I complained about how ppl viewed west as progressive and korea as more conservative and my cousin said "yeah, cause of history, that's just how it is".

It's not just korea though obviously. Zionists claim that israel's existence is justified because it is "lgbt friendly and respects women's rights". Even though what israel is doing to lgbt palestinians and palestinian women are horrifying and disgusting, but since zionists will believe that their morality is "better" therefore "inferior" palestine "deserve it". Thank god for terms like pinkwashing and purplewashing, otherwise i might have gone insane.

In a nutshell, i started to believe that current idea of morality is deeply colonial, racist and sexist. There are so many examples (like how violence done by individual black folks are heavily demonized, but a larger, more vicious and genocidal systemic violence done by white society at large is ignored or at least "thats just how it is-fied", mocking "unlikable" female celebs online etc.), like too many. Its so ingrained within our world. Believing this has been eye opening for me, and i feel more empowered due to it. Thank you for the space for me to talk about this.

wow anon you just said a whole word!!!! please keep talking and writing about this. I think you're really on to something important here

[slytherin-princess-x]

Bound by decree: love is a dangerous game

Mattheo x reader

Summary: An arranged marriage but they’re enemies

A/n: it’s a long one today guys

The parchment felt like a death sentence in my trembling hands—crisp, official, and utterly final. I stared at the ornate script, the words swimming before my eyes: *"By decree of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and the Ministry of Magic, a binding betrothal is hereby established between…"* My stomach churned. I already knew the name; it had been the hushed whisper in the corridors, the grim topic of conversation amongst the Slytherins. *"...Miss Y/N L/N and Mr. Mattheo Gaunt Riddle."*

Year Seven was supposed to be exciting. The final exams, Quidditch tryouts, maybe even a stolen kiss or two behind the greenhouses. Instead, it was starting with shackles. Arranged marriages were archaic—relics of a bygone era—but here we were, being dragged back into it for the sake of pureblood lineage. As if my family's ancient bloodline wasn't pristine enough.

The cause of my imminent doom was leaning against the wall across the Slytherin common room, a picture of indolent indifference. Mattheo Riddle. Dark hair perpetually mussed, eyes like chips of obsidian, and a smirk that promised nothing but trouble. He exuded an aura of dangerous charisma that made most students scurry out of his path. But me? I was now legally bound to him. The irony tasted bitter on my tongue.

"Well, well," Mattheo drawled, pushing off the wall and strolling toward me. His voice was a smooth, velvety threat. "Looks like we're stuck with each other, L/N."

I crumpled the parchment in my fist. "Stuck is an understatement, Riddle. This is a bloody nightmare."

He chuckled, a low, humorless sound that grated on my nerves. "Don't pretend you're not flattered. Who wouldn't want to be betrothed to me?"

"Oh, I can think of a few," I snapped, my eyes blazing. "Anyone with a functioning brain and a desire to, you know, choose who they spend their life with."

His smirk widened, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Such spirit. I'm almost… impressed."

The "almost" hung in the air, thick with sarcasm. That was our dynamic in a nutshell—a constant sparring match, a battle of wills fueled by mutual disdain. He reveled in my frustration, while I seethed under his arrogant gaze.

The engagement was a public spectacle. Announcements at breakfast, pointed glances in the corridors, and the ever-present whisper of our names linked together. It was suffocating. And the worst part? Mattheo seemed to enjoy it. He’d drape an arm possessively around my shoulders during meals, his touch sending shivers of disgust down my spine. He’d answer questions about our "future" with infuriatingly vague pronouncements, leaving me to grit my teeth and plaster on a fake smile.

My attempts at a normal Year Seven were thwarted at every turn. Gryffindor boys who’d dared to flirt with me suddenly found themselves on the receiving end of Mattheo’s icy glare and a few well-placed hexes. Even my closest friends grew hesitant, the air around me now tainted by Mattheo’s presence.

"He's like a bloody Dementor," my friend Clara muttered one afternoon, as we watched Mattheo lean against a tree, his gaze fixed on me. "Sucking all the joy out of the air."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Tell me about it. I can't even look at another boy without him glaring holes into their skull."

The enforced proximity did offer a twisted kind of insight, though. I saw glimpses of Mattheo away from the public eye. The way his brow furrowed in concentration during Potions, the almost imperceptible twitch of his lip when he read a particularly clever passage in a Transfiguration textbook. These moments were fleeting, quickly masked by his usual sardonic demeanor, but they were there.

One evening, stuck in the library together to “study”—a thinly veiled excuse for our parents to see us interacting amicably—I found myself staring at him. He was engrossed in a heavy tome, his features softened in the lamplight. For the first time, I saw past the arrogance and the threats, and caught a glimpse of… something else. A weariness, perhaps? Or maybe just boredom.

He looked up, catching my gaze. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by a neutral expression that was almost unsettling in its unfamiliarity.

"Problem, L/N?"

I quickly averted my eyes, a blush creeping up my neck. "No. No problem."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken tension. It was different from our usual animosity, charged with something… more.

As the year progressed, our interactions, while still laced with sarcasm and barbed comments, began to shift. We argued about house points with a shared competitiveness. We found an odd sort of camaraderie in our mutual disdain for certain professors. During a particularly grueling detention scrubbing cauldrons, Mattheo surprised me by sharing a mumbled joke that actually made me laugh.

The Yule Ball arrived like a looming deadline. I had dreaded the thought of being seen on Mattheo’s arm. But as he stood before me in his dress robes, a certain unfamiliar nervousness in his eyes, something shifted within me. He was undeniably handsome, and for the first time, the thought didn’t fill me with immediate revulsion.

Our dance was stiff and awkward at first, but as the music softened and we found a rhythm, a strange sort of understanding passed between us. His hand on my back was firm, his gaze surprisingly steady.

"You look… tolerable," he muttered, his voice barely audible above the music.

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile tugged at my lips. "And you're not entirely unbearable yourself, Riddle."

It was a minuscule crack in the wall of our mutual animosity, but it was there.

The turning point, perhaps inevitably, came during a late-night study session in the deserted astronomy tower. We were arguing, as usual, about some obscure Charms theory. Our voices echoed in the stillness, the tension crackling between us.

"You're being deliberately obtuse," I accused, frustration bubbling over.

"And you're being willfully ignorant," Mattheo retorted, his eyes flashing.

We were close—too close. Our anger was a palpable force. And then, something shifted. The anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by a different kind of intensity. His gaze lingered on my lips, and for the first time, I didn’t want to look away.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek. His touch was surprisingly gentle. "You know," he said, his voice low and husky, "you're not what I expected."

My heart hammered in my chest. "And what did you expect?" I whispered, my breath catching in my throat.

His gaze searched mine, a flicker of something vulnerable in his dark eyes. "A simpering pureblood princess, eager to please."

"And what did you get?" I challenged, my voice barely a breath.

A slow smile spread across his face, a genuine smile that reached his eyes and banished the usual shadows. "Someone who challenges me. Someone who isn’t afraid."

And then he kissed me.

It wasn’t a gentle, tentative kiss. It was fierce, possessive, filled with a pent-up energy that mirrored the animosity that had simmered between us for months. And surprisingly, I kissed him back, my own frustrations and grudges melting away in the heat of the moment.

The world didn’t magically transform. We were still betrothed, still bound by an archaic agreement. But as we stood there, breathless and slightly shaken, in the silence of the astronomy tower, something had undeniably changed. The hatred hadn’t vanished entirely, but a new emotion had taken root—a complicated tangle of resentment and reluctant attraction.

The arranged marriage was still a cage, but now, maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t be quite so lonely. The year still stretched before us, filled with uncertainty and the weight of our forced union. But for the first time since that dreaded parchment arrived, I felt a flicker of something akin to hope. Perhaps, against all odds, this nightmare could turn into something else entirely. The enemies were still there, but maybe, beneath the surface, lovers were beginning to bloom.

Taglist: @yootvi @redeemingvillains @littlemadamred @smut-anarchy

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 7

Source for pic

Trouble 7

Word Count: 4814

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Dead Animals Mentioned; Reader in a terror-like state; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I told you guys this was going to get worse... and believe me or not... it STILL gets worse. Also, mind the red tag, above, please.

Masterlist

The police. 

You need to tell someone, and the police are the obvious choice. You've been tossing and turning in your bed for over an hour, and this is the smartest, simplest answer. 

Zoro is unreachable for a week, so the next best option will have to do. 

You remember your ex, Ichiji, once had a problem with a girl who loved and followed the Vinsmoke siblings everywhere. She was obsessed with the whole family, but mostly Ichiji, since he's the eldest. She resorted to possessive letters and creepy calls, and you've been trying to rack your brain as to how he dealt with the problem. You're almost positive he went to the police. 

And they couldn't help. 

That was when he hired the bodyguards. 

Maybe they took care of the problem? 

A shudder that has nothing to do with the cold travels through your body. Anyway they dealt with it, you don't have the resources to do the same. And Ichiji's bodyguards were real beasts: massive, bulky, scary. They were elite, all-stars. 

You don't have anyone like that to look out for you. 

Lies. 

You have Zoro. But you'll have to be very careful about how you'll tell him once he gets back. And even though the police did nothing to help with your ex’s problem, that doesn't mean they won't help now. 

Oh! 

You still have the picture he sent you of Rob Lucci, that has to get them to act! 

You sit upright in your bed and grab your phone. It's been muted and silent since you retired to your bedroom after closing all the doors and windows, including the door to your room. 

You left the light in your bedroom on anyway, too scared of invisible shadows, too frightened of unseen ghosts.

Obviously, there are texts waiting for you. You knew that, and that's why the phone was silenced. The dread in your stomach seems like it has come to stay, but it still manages to increase as you read the texts. 

Unknown: How are you feeling, Kitten? You barely ate dinner. You need to eat.  Unknown: Tucking into bed already? Don't be scared. You're safe. No one will harm you.  Unknown: You're mine. 

You don't know who it is, but that doesn't mean your mind doesn't conjure up the scariest, raspiest voice to go with the possessive texts. With a heavy sigh, you swipe the texts aside and search for the picture. 

It's gone. 

Just like that. 

You know you deleted some texts when you first started to receive them, but you didn't delete the picture, no matter how ghastly it was. But it's gone. 

With a shaky inhale, you return the silenced phone, face down, to your bedside table and curl up on your bed, comforter tucked high against your chin. You'll still go to the police. You have to tell someone. 

A creak of the old house brings desperate tears to your eyes and you stifle a sob. You don't dare turn off the light and you know sleep will elude you tonight. 

God, you miss Zoro. 

And he's barely been gone a day. 

-*-

Sometime during the night, you must've fallen asleep from exhaustion because the sound of the rooster’s call jolts you awake with a surprised gasp. 

Daylight seeps through the closed curtains, and you will your heart to steady to a normal beat. Nothing bad happened, you're safe, you're alone in your room. You're fine. 

Everything's fine. 

You refrain from grabbing your phone, trying to prolong the moment you’ll have to face the creepy texts, perhaps even new texts waiting for you, and instead head to the bathroom to freshen up and get ready to face a new day.

Your eyes are baggy and darkened, likely because you only slept two or three hours. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you lay down your plans for the day: feed the animals and do the morning chores, then head to the police station and tell the cops about what’s going on. 

They will have to help you. And even if they don’t do much, at least you won’t feel so alone. 

As you finally gather some courage to grab your phone, a shaky laugh escapes your lips: there’s nothing new. No new text, no new photo, nothing. You were suffering from anticipation without any cause to do so. So, you take the phone off silent mode and stuff it in your pocket. 

The day already seems lighter and brighter. Perhaps you won’t even need to go to the police.

Grabbing a quick breakfast, you open the door, still chewing on your apple, ready to face the day. You don’t find it unusual that there are hardly any birds singing. 

Though you should’ve.

Because as soon as you open the door, you’re assaulted by a foul smell. The apple you are holding rolls in your hand and falls to the floor with a thud. Blood. There’s so much blood. 

Nausea turns your legs to jelly, and you grip the handle of the door tightly as your eyes widen and sweep the scene. There are countless dead birds, squirrels, rats, and even cockroaches. They’re scattered across your porch and thrown carelessly over the railing and the porch chairs. Blood is smeared and pooled everywhere, and the smell of rot and decay makes your eyes tear up.

You gag and fight for your breakfast to remain inside your stomach as your hand flies to cover your mouth. What could this mean?

Then, from the corner of your eye, you find your answer: there’s a cat - its fur an oddly close resemblance to the colour of your hair - dead, lifeless, gutted, and covered in blood, pinned to your door. The note attached to the poor animal is written in crimson words, and the message is clear as day:

Don’t tell anyone, Kitten.

You’re powerless to stop the retches and heaves as you fall to your knees. 

-*-

After what you found on your porch in the morning, you lock yourself in the house again. With the windows locked and the curtains closed, you curl into a small ball on the couch, put on your headphones, and will yourself to just disappear. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

But he doesn’t leave you alone.

Unknown: I love seeing you scared, Kitten. The way your big, bright eyes widen. The way your chest heaves. Unknown: You’re so beautiful. Unknown: I hope you understood my message, darling. Don’t tell anyone.  Unknown: Not. A. Soul. Unknown: Or next time, it won’t be animals…

More threats. More possessive words. More praise.

The tears keep falling from your eyes, and you feel trapped and utterly alone. How did this happen to you? Who could this person be? He’s a man - you can tell because of the hand that was holding Rob Lucci’s eyes in the photo. That much is clear. 

But who?

Who would want to hurt you? Who would want to scare you?

Unknown: You don’t need to be afraid of me, Kitten. I won’t hurt you. Not you, never you. Unknown: I think your dad’s animals might be hungry.  Unknown: Are you going to be cooped up inside all day? Do you need me to feed them?

What? How sick is he? How can he say this? Is he close? How close?

A whimper escapes your lips as you clutch your face in your hands, shaking your head and shutting your eyes shut. 

He’s right, though. You need to feed the animals. You’ve been inside the house for around four hours already. The animals must be starving.

It takes you about fifteen minutes to gather the strength and courage to face the slaughter on your porch and then another five minutes to gather a trash bag and gloves. Then it’s with heavy breaths that you place your shaky hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly, your eyes still closed. 

The smell is still overwhelming, but it’s not as bad as you thought it would be after the dead animals were left rotting in the sun for hours. With another shaky breath, you finally open your eyes.

There’s nothing there.

No animals. No blood. No note or cat pinned to the door.

For a fleeting second, you think you’re going crazy. You have to be. But then your eyes fall back on the door. Your nails scrape gently against the dark wood: there’s a mark where the knife was pinning the cat and the note. 

You didn’t dream it, you didn’t imagine things. It happened.

And he cleaned it all up.

What is going on? Why is he playing these mind games with you?

Suddenly, you hear a distant noise coming from the treeline, just beyond the barn. Your blood runs cold, and a shiver filled with dread makes you tremble. With a shaky step forward you grip the railing, straining your eyes against the brightness of the day to try to discern if there’s something lurking there. 

Your breathing slows down, and your knuckles turn white with the force you’re clutching the railing. Dread rises from somewhere in the pit of your stomach and settles right in your chest.

There’s definitely something - someone? - there. And it looks big. Massive, even. 

The shadow moves forward, and you gasp at the same time your phone begins to ring. A scream climbs up your throat, and you stumble backwards, fumbling with your pockets to fish out the blaring phone. 

Nami.

You pick up shakily, your eyes already moving back to the place where the shadow had been. “Y-yeah?”  

“Hi!” Nami’s voice is bright, she might not have noticed the strain in yours. Your left hand grips the railing again as your eyes dart left and right. Nothing. “How are you, honey? Are you feeling lonely now that your broody cop left for the week?” She giggles, and you force out a shaky, fake laugh. Nothing! “I thought you might want some company. Want me to come over?”

Nothing at all.

Fear grips you again, and you stumble backwards, closing the door with force and leaning against it with heavy breaths. “Come over?” Breathe. Just breathe. There’s no way in hell you’re going to tell Nami to come over. No matter how much you want her company, how alone you feel, or how much comfort you seek. You won’t risk her getting trapped in this person’s web. “Sorry, Nami. I can’t today. Maybe another time?”

She groans on the other side of the line as you move to the window, your eyes scanning the trees again. “Fineee! I was just postponing some boring house chores anyway. I’ve been procrastinating since the weekend.” She giggles. “Talk soon, then?”

You let out a noncommittal noise, and silence fills the line. “Are you okay?” She asks, worry lacing her voice. Calm down! You try to force some semblance of control back into your voice. Nami always sees right through your bullshit, so you need to be a good liar. Just this once. One time.

“Of course I am! I’m just sooo tired! Ace couldn’t help me today, so I’m tending to all the chores alone. I need rest.” You let out another shaky laugh and hope against all hope she believes you.

There’s still nothing out there. 

“Hmm, okay, okay. I believe that. Farm chores are so tiresome. ‘K, gotta go. Call me later?”

“Sure, Nami. Thanks for checking in.”

She hangs up, and you grip the phone tightly. You could’ve sworn that the shadow was coming for you when you picked up the phone. And that thought alone is enough to make you stay cooped up inside for another hour. 

-*-

You don't quite know how you do it, but you force yourself to tackle your morning chores, even though they’ve now turned into afternoon chores. 

Every little noise, every tiny movement makes you tremble and whimper. Even the cows sense your discomfort, some of the older ones gently bump you as you pet them and whisper soothing words. 

How ironic is it that you're the one in need of soothing, not the cows. 

Somehow, you manage. And as soon as you're done, you rush inside, bolting the door and sighing as you lean against it. You did it. You're safe inside. He can't get in. 

He can't get in. 

You're safe. 

-*-

You take a quick shower and have a meager dinner. You wouldn't be able to eat anything different even if you were hungry. Your fridge and pantry are almost empty. You should've gone grocery shopping yesterday, but the sick cow threw those plans out the window and now the last thing you want to do is leave the safety of your home to buy food supplies. 

You can always survive on nuts and cereal. 

A groan leaves your lips as you finish cleaning the dishes. No, you can't. 

You place the towel on the rack to dry, then halt your movements, tilting your head to the side to listen for any noise. You’ve closed all the curtains, but you still feel watched. It's like someone is creeping in on you, watching every move you make, every sound, every thought. 

Shaking your head, you leave the kitchen, turning off the light and running towards the stairs like a child scared of the dark. Your stomach still rumbles a bit, though you're so nauseated and scared that, even though you're hungry, you know you can't eat anything right now. 

Plus, empty pantry and all that… 

So, tomorrow, grocery shopping will have to be. Get out, buy stuff, get back in. 

How hard can that be? 

-*-

Hard. So very hard. 

Considering you didn't sleep much last night. Maybe an hour, two at most. He kept texting you with praise and soothing words, telling you to turn off the light and rest. But how could you turn off the light when he was watching you, and every shadow felt like it was looming closer? How could you rest when your heart kept pounding with adrenaline? 

You don't know how much longer your body can function without sleep, with barely any food and under constant stress. But the truth is, you can't even bring yourself to worry about those things when the real terror hides behind creepy texts. 

And there are still three more days before Zoro returns. 

Trying to ignore the dread in your stomach or the way your breath leaves your mouth in shaky exhales, you open the front door, bracing yourself for anything. 

But there's nothing. 

A longer and much more relieved exhale empties your lungs, and you feed the animals before rushing to your car. The farm feels eerily silent, as if the animals can sense all the apprehension coursing through you. 

And they probably do. 

You drive a little faster than you should on the way to the store and as you park the car and exit with rushed movements, new texts greet you, and you grimace in consternation 

Unknown: Slow down, Flash. There's no one following you, don't worry. No one will get near you. 

Right. No one but this creep, whoever he is. There's no need to worry at all. 

Fear induces hurry, and you take little care in picking the prettiest vegetables or the plumpest fruits. You just want to grab your essentials, and get out. Rush home, and lock yourself in until Zoro returns and you can find some solace in his arms. 

Is that too much to ask? 

“Well, hello there, gorgeous. I see you're all alone today.”

Oh, no, no, no. 

“Hi, yes, I'm in a hurry, excuse me.” It's the store clerk who flirted with you when you returned. And his advances are especially unwelcome today. Even more so since Zoro isn't around to pretend to be your boyfriend. 

He places an arm on your cart, a cheeky smirk in his lips and you suppress a groan as his hand inches closer to touch yours. “I'll help you. What do you need? Besides my number?” He chuckles and now it's the urge to roll your eyes you suppress. 

You feel a faint vibration in your pocket and push the cart forward as you decide to ignore it. “I really don't need your help, thank you.” 

“Are you sure?” You nod and try to push past him again, but his hand moves, gripping your forearm instead of the cart. “Because I can be very… serviceable.”

Hell, no. 

A loud crash from the next aisle - that sounds like broken jars - echoes through the store, and the clerk groans. “Not the pickles, come on. They stink up the place!” He releases your arm with frustration, and you seize the opportunity to slip away, grab the rest of your essentials, and cash out. 

Your nerves are frayed to the breaking point, and all you want is to curl up and disappear. 

It's not until you finally get home, unload the groceries and lock the door, that you look at the unread texts on your phone. 

Unknown: Who does he think he is?  Unknown: He dares flirt with you? He dares TOUCH you? You're mine!  Unknown: Don't worry, Kitten, I won't let him bother you again. 

No! Oh, no!

A quick online search shows you the phone number of the grocery store and you're fast to dial it, your foot tapping the floor impatiently as guilt gnaws at your insides. 

You can't let anyone else get hurt because of you. It's not fair. Not fair at all. 

Someone picks up at the third ring and it's an older female voice. It's not him. You try your best to describe the clerk you wish to speak to and, thank God it's a small town, because the woman on the line knows who you're talking about and calls him. 

The phone buzzes in your ear and you glance at the text while you're waiting. 

Unknown: How selfless of you, Kitten, trying to save him.  Unknown: You can't, though, you know? 

“Hello?” He sounds pissed. 

“Hi! Oh, thank God. Are you okay?” You collapse into a kitchen chair, your legs wobbly all of a sudden. 

“Who is this?”

“Right! Sorry! Uh… I’m uh… The girl you were talking to earlier? Erm… The one you offered to help?”

He lets out a dry chuckle. “The gorgeous one? Yeah, I remember you. Guess you really needed my number, then.”

Bzzzz.

Unknown: He's gone, Kitten. Might as well say goodbye now. Nobody touches what's mine. 

“Good! Listen, you're in danger.” Your voice falters as you think about how crazy you must sound. How delusional. “I can't tell you much, but someone might try to harm you. Don't ask me how I know, I just do! Please don't leave the store alone! And go to the cops, please!”

There's a moment of silence on the line and you hope he's considering your words, listening to the faint edge of fear on your voice, something that shows him reason. 

“Wow…” He's not convinced. “This has got to be the most elaborate excuse anyone’s used to get me to back off.” He chuckles again, but this time in disbelief. “Listen, I get it, okay? I'll back off. You're not interested. I won't try again.”

“No, no, wait! That's not what I–”

“Don't worry, miss. I got it.” He sighs. “I got to go, some asshole spilled the whole aisle of pickles and that shit’s already spilling to the other aisles. Er… Bye, I guess.”

And he ends the call. You hold the phone to your ear, ignoring the beeping signaling the end of the call. This can't be happening. It can't. Someone will get hurt again because of you. 

You drop the phone, and it slips to the floor with a thud, your fingers threading through your hair and gripping tight. The walls feel closer now, the air thinner. You're alone. You're frightened. You're vulnerable.

And you will be responsible for another terrible crime. 

-*-

The chores that could be postponed, got postponed. Those that couldn't, got done half-heartedly. It will have to do. At least until Zoro comes back and you can rely on him. 

You miss him. You need him. So, so much. 

As per usual, you lock the door tightly and double-check all the other locks on the back doors and windows, though you haven't touched those since this whole ordeal started. Everything's locked, and though apprehension still grips your heart tightly, you feel as safe as you're going to feel for now. 

He won't get into your home. You're safe inside. 

You still rush up the stairs and lock yourself in your bedroom, lights on and covers pulled up to your chin. 

After you've settled, and after you've made sure there's nothing hiding in the shadows or inside your closet, you unlock your phone, skim through the new set of texts: ‘You're mine’, ‘Sleep tight’, ‘Drink water and get some rest’, and then open the website of the local newspaper again, dreading the time when you'll see the store clerk's picture or some reference to him. 

It dawns on you that you don't even know his name. 

And yet, you're going to be the one to blame for whatever gruesome thing that happens to him. Should you go confess to the cops? 

No… You can't. He doesn't let you go to the police, you got that message loud and clear: if you do that, somebody else will get hurt. And maybe next time it could be one of your friends. Or you. 

A shaky inhale leaves your lips as a new set of tears threatens to fall. How do you have more tears to cry? How are you still hanging on? How long will you last without fully breaking? 

-*-

Like all the other nights, you eventually give in to exhaustion and fall asleep for a few hours. Except this time, the events from the day before are still pretty fresh in your mind, so the first thing you do is grab your phone - no new texts. Yet. - and open the newspaper website. 

Nothing. 

A relieved sigh empties your lungs, and you actually manage a small smile. Maybe this person, this stalker, is all bark and no bite. 

Though even as you think this, you know you're wrong. He's very vicious. Rob Lucci, the dead animals… You feel he's capable of terrible things. But maybe, just maybe, this time he was just bluffing. 

Bzzzz. 

No. No. No. 

It's a picture. 

Bzzzz. 

Unknown: I always follow through on my threats, Kitten. 

And then there's an address. 

No. It's your fault again. You know you shouldn't open the picture, you already know it's gruesome, you already know you'll regret it, and yet… 

You still open it. 

The shop clerk is blindfolded and tied up with intricate knots, the rope is binding his chest, his legs, his arms. His face is swollen and barely recognizable. There's blood everywhere. And his hands… They're detached from his body, hanging on his neck like a necklace and holding a paper with a bloody note: Nobody touches what's mine. 

-*-

You used the address to make an anonymous tip to the police. You didn’t even know you could do that online, but apparently, there are specific websites that offer that anonymous service. 

You can’t bear to look at the picture one more time, but you hope he’s still alive. All he did was talk to you. Just like Rob Lucci. 

They aren’t guilty of any other crime. And that’s why you feel so responsible for what happened to them. 

The urge to tell Zoro all that’s been happening is stronger than ever, but then there’s a nagging feeling at the back of your mind telling you that if the stalker managed to do this to men who only flirted with you, what could he do to Zoro, someone you’re actually interested in?

You know Zoro is a cop, and you know he can take care of himself, but still… 

You fear for his safety more than you fear your own.

And that is terrifying.

-*-

Shanks called and said he and Beckman are having a wonderful time, and business is blooming. Some of your father’s best horses have already been selected by breeders, so, unfortunately, Shanks is going to have to prolong his stay for at least three more weeks. 

You didn’t have the heart to tell him how alone and terrified you felt. So instead, you feigned happiness that all was going well for him and told him he could stay for as long as he wanted because you had everything under control. 

Lies, after lies, after lies. 

The rest of the week passes in a haze. You barely sleep, hardly eat, and are in a constant state of stress and nerves. The only time you leave the house is to feed the animals and clean the stables. And even then, there are times you manage to ask Ace for help, pretending to feel sick. 

The rest of the time is spent curled up, frightened, and being constantly harassed over text by this creep.

You’ve been wracking your brain as to who he is, but you have no idea. Absolutely no idea. And the fact that he could be some random person might even be scarier than if he were someone you know. 

Friday finally arrives, and as you down your third mug of coffee of the morning, sitting iyour couch, your phone rings. And this time you’re actually happy to see the name on the screen.

It’s Zoro.

But as you’re about to answer, the call disconnects suddenly. Did he hang up?

Bzzzz.

No. He didn’t. 

Unknown: Remember, Kitten, don’t tell him anything. You don’t want to see the cop pinned to your door next, do you?

Zoro calls again, and once more, the call dies before you pick it up. 

Unknown: You know by now that I don’t make idle threats. You do not want to see me mad, Kitten. I don’t want to hurt your friends because I don’t want to see you sad, but I will hurt him. 

Zoro calls again, and still you have no time to answer. 

“Shit!” You almost sob. “I won’t tell him anything… I won’t…” You mutter to yourself, tears already gathering at the corner of your eyes as the feeling of being trapped and alone overpowers you. 

This time, when Zoro tries again, you manage to pick up. 

“Hey, Troublemaker! What the hell is wrong with that damned phone?”

God, oh God, you missed him so much. His strong voice, his confident demeanour, the way that just hearing him speak to you makes you feel instantly safer.

It’s too much.

Too much.

You try to keep the tears and the sobs at bay, but you can’t. “Zo…” You sniffle, and it’s clear that he immediately stands at attention on the other side of the line.

“What’s wrong, Trouble? Talk to me. I’m still heading home, I’m about two hours away. What’s wrong?”

Bzzzz.

Unknown: Kitten… don’t disappoint me. 

“Nothing!” A wet, shaky laugh climbs up your throat, and you bring your knees to your chest, trying to feel smaller. “I’ve just been feeling lonely this week. Nami and Robin have been busy, I don’t want to bother Kaya and Usopp. Luffy is busy at the fire station, and… and… I’ve missed you so, so much… I’m such a crybaby, I’m sorry.”

Is this enough?

Silence stretches, and all that you hear on the other line is the sound of cars and chatter from his coworkers. “I’ve missed you too, Trouble.” At least his worry is hidden behind a semblance of softness. It might’ve been enough. “Are you sure that’s it?”

Another excuse, quick.

“Yeah… I mean, my dad just called saying he has to be away for more weeks than he initially thought, I guess that I also miss him…”

Zoro chuckles softly, and you sigh in relief. 

“You’re an emotional mess today, Trouble.”

You laugh softly and sniff, your hand cleaning the remnants of your tears from your cheeks. 

“I guess I am.”

“Well, Nami texted me earlier, saying the gang’s going to meet at Robin’s. Are you coming?”

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. You don’t want to put any of them in danger, but you don’t think you can spend more time alone inside a locked house. You need your friends, you need Zoro…

“Yeah, I guess.”

“See you soon, then?”

You hum, and before you can say anything else, the call ends again. Did he hang up? Was it the service? Or… maybe you should think about changing phones…

Bzzzz.

Unknown: Such a good girl, Kitten. I knew you could do it.  Unknown: I hope you think of me at the gathering later. I do want you to have fun, you know? But remember…  Unknown: Behave, Kitten. You do not want to see me angry. I don’t want to have to punish you.

Taglist: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000

|Chapter 8|

[kenyatta]

There’s a scramble to figure out what it means to master the constantly shifting landscape of the New Media Circuit, where success requires a fluency in weaponizing various corners of the internet. It’s no easy feat. Landing a spot on today’s top podcasts or YouTube shows is as competitive as booking late-night TV during its peak, and charting a course across too many second-tier stops (random TikTok personalities, niche podcasts, etc.) runs the risk of making the talent seem a little small-time. Stars and their teams also have to figure out the new formats of the day, whether it’s having their music knowledge tested or coming up with a hot take while riding the subway, while also working traditional media spots with an eye on producing a moment that can travel online. The New Media Circuit may feel like a radical shift, but at its core, it’s not fundamentally different from the old publicity game: There have always been friendly outlets, but bookings don’t always work out, messages don’t always stick. The difference now is that unpredictability is the norm, and unlike the old days, there’s no guaranteed baseline of attention. “Most of the time, the video just dies in darkness because nothing really lands,” says a marketer for a major film studio. “It never got memed by Evan Ross Katz.” At some level, it’s still a numbers game. Working the New Media Circuit often means rapidly throwing as much stuff at the wall as possible to see what sticks. But even that approach requires a level of curation, finesse, and a bit of dumb luck. “Actors on Actors is that to me in a nutshell,” says the marketer. “If you told me this time last year that Colman Domingo and Kieran Culkin would be my favorite of these, I would have not believed it. I can’t imagine a more random pairing.” Publicists and execs point to Timothée Chalamet’s A Complete Unknown press run as a model of a campaign that’s mastered the New Media Circuit: ubiquitous yet surprising (flexing music cred with Nardwuar, bro-ing out with Theo Von, clowning around with Brittani Broski), quirky (riding a Lime scooter onto a red carpet), and somehow still intriguing (how was he the only one on a panel of football experts to call Ohio’s win over Miami on College GameDay?). He presents as someone eager to match the energy of whoever’s in front of him, always ready to play the game. More importantly, his appearances feel like natural extensions of a carefully shaped idea: Chalamet as a multitalented art-kid savant who can’t quite be pinned down. “I thought Timothée looked like the most humble person in the world when he showed up at his own lookalike contest,” says one film-studio executive. But safely sustaining that sort of authenticity can be a tricky task when you’re doing a three-hour podcast. “Some clients really thrive in that environment, but I know plenty who feel anxious about the conversation,” says the partner of a major PR firm. “‘Where is it going to go? Are they going to bring up something I don’t want to talk about?’” Part of Chappell Roan’s appeal is her vivid, unfiltered energy, but that same disposition drew hand-wringing from mom influencers after she called motherhood “hell” on Call Her Daddy. That’s why knowing what you’re dealing with is vital. No star should sit down to tape Club Shay Shay thinking that the show will edit anything out.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Of Lust and Sex on Tolkien lore: Sauron x Galadriel in “Rings of Power”

Many fellow fans have complaint there’s a trend among the Tolkien fandom to de-sexualize Galadriel, but folks, this is not exclusive to her character. This is, actually, an on-going theme on how many see Tolkien’s world and work, in general, and it runs deeps.

There’s this weird headcanon that, just because Tolkien was catholic and a “gentleman”, the world he built is somehow devoid of sexuality or sexual matters, and asexual in itself. Nothing wrong with that, except we have countless examples of “sexual stuff” happening in the legendarium, from characters lusting after each other, to actual sexual assault. Just because Tolkien didn’t write explicit sex scenes (let’s say like George R.R. Martin, who devoted himself to try subvert Tolkien) doesn’t mean is not there. Not everything needs to be “in your face” meaning explicit.

Firstly, Tolkien cared enough about sexuality to write several essays on the matter, namely about the Eldar sex culture and customs. It’s clear that the Elves try to be the “perfect Catholics” on his lore, and this reflects on their views of sex = marriage, premarital sex is frowned upon, repression of sexual desire, adultery is unthinkable, and divorce is forbidden. The Eldar sex culture is purity culture in a nutshell. And it reflects Tolkien’s own views on the subject:

Later in life when sex cools down, it may be possible. It may happen between saints. To ordinary folk it can only rarely occur [...] Faithfulness in Christian marriage entails that: great mortification. For a Christian man there is no escape. Marriage may help to sanctify & direct to its proper object his sexual desires; its grace may help him in the struggle; but the struggle remains. It will not satisfy him – as hunger may be kept off by regular meals [...] No man, however truly he loved his betrothed and bride as a young man, has lived faithful to her as a wife in mind and body without deliberate conscious exercise of the will, without self-denial.   [...] Out of the darkness of my life, so much frustrated, I put before you the one great thing to love on earth: the Blessed Sacrament [Marriage].... There you will find romance, glory, honour, fidelity, and the true way of all your loves upon earth, and more than that: Death: by the divine paradox, that which ends life, and demands the surrender of all, and yet by the taste (or foretaste) of which alone can what you seek in your earthly relationships (love, faithfulness, joy) be maintained, or take on that complexion of reality, of eternal endurance, which every man's heart desires.  Tolkien Letter 43

In Tolkien lore, there’s a strong connection between sex and morality. This is clear on the most iconic romances on his legendarium: Beren and Lúthien, Aragorn and Arwen, etc., which follow the medieval tradition of Chivalric romance: adventures of knights, courtly love, codes of honor and chivalry, trials and tribulations in the pursuit of love and glory.

“Courly love”, in the European tradition, is a highly idealized portrayal of human romantic relationships, that emerged in the medieval courts of the continent. Is a form of ritualized love between a knight (Beren/Aragorn) and his lady (Lúthien/Arwen), characterized by restrain, discretion and devotion.  Tolkien himself talks about this, as well: 

It idealizes ‘love’ - and as far as it goes can be very good, since it takes in far more than physical pleasure, and enjoins if not purity, at least fidelity, and so self-denial, 'service’, courtesy, honor, and courage. Its weakness is, of course, that it began as an artificial courtly game, a way of enjoying love for its own sake without reference to (and indeed contrary to) matrimony. 

It’s clear Tolkien sees the lustful side of relationships as something sinful, but does this equal “evil”? No, because his characters (including the Elves) and the legendarium are complex, and this is not a pure Good vs. Pure Evil world, as Tolkien says himself: 

Some reviewers have called the whole thing simple-minded, just a plain fight between Good and Evil, with all the good just good, and the bad just bad. Pardonable, perhaps (though at least Boromir has been overlooked) in people in a hurry, and with only a fragment to read, and, of course, without the earlier written but unpublished Elvish histories. But the Elves are not wholly good or in the right. Tolkien Letter 154

For Tolkien, is more about being on the “right side of History” (let’s put it this way) than being an immaculate hero. His characters are complexed and nuanced:  

There are also conflicts about important things or ideas. In such cases I am more impressed by the extreme importance of being on the right side, than I am disturbed by the revelation of the jungle of confused motives, private purposes, and individual actions (noble or base) in which the right and the wrong in actual human conflicts are commonly involved. If the conflict really is about things properly called right and wrong, or good and evil, then the rightness or goodness of one side is not proved or established by the claims of either side; it must depend on values and beliefs above and independent of the particular conflict. A judge must assign right and wrong according to principles which he holds valid in all cases. That being so, the right will remain an inalienable possession of the right side and Justify its cause throughout. (I speak of causes, not of individuals. Of course to a judge whose moral ideas have a religious or philosophical basis, or indeed to anyone not blinded by partisan fanaticism, the rightness of the cause will not justify the actions of its supporters, as individuals, that are morally wicked. But though 'propaganda' may seize on them as proofs that their cause was not in fact 'right', that is not valid. The aggressors are themselves primarily to blame for the evil deeds that proceed from their original violation of justice and the passions that their own wickedness must naturally (by their standards) have been expected to arouse. They at any rate have no right to demand that their victims when assaulted should not demand an eye for an eye or a tooth for a tooth.) Similarly, good actions by those on the wrong side will not justify their cause. There may be deeds on the wrong side of heroic courage, or some of a higher moral level: deeds of mercy and forbearance. A judge may accord them honour and rejoice to see how some men can rise above the hate and anger of a conflict; even as he may deplore the evil deeds on the right side and be grieved to see how hatred once provoked can drag them down. But this will not alter his judgement as to which side was in the right, nor his assignment of the primary blame for all the evil that followed to the other side. In my story I do not deal in Absolute Evil.  Letter 183 

This is why, in "Rings of Power", Sauron can be in love with Galadriel and still be the villain he is. Tolkien doesn’t deal in absolutes, and Sauron is not pure evil, either.

And if people can’t wrap their head around nuanced and complex ideas, it’s not Tolkien's fault, really. This concept that “evil can love” (and it doesn’t make it any less evil) is absolutely fascinating to me, because I wholesome agree with this. Folks have this idealized notion of love (even Tolkien himself talks about this), like it’s only valid if it’s Beren and Lúthien. When it’s not. “Lord of the Rings” is meant to reflect our “fallen” world; and, in our world, tyrants and dictators can love, and have families, and still be genocidal monsters. Their ability to feel romantic love has no direct connection in how they treat their subjects. This is why Tolkien says that “good actions” on the wrong side don’t excuse it nor make it any less evil.

This is not “Harry Potter”, and Sauron is not “Voldemort” that can’t never “know love”. Tolkien was a college professor at Oxford, a renounced linguistic, the father of the modern fantasy genre, and a classic of World literature, he would never write just a basic concept.

This leads me to the idea that “Elves are not wholly good”, and that, they too, can be sinful, and that doesn’t make them “evil” (= on the wrong side). We see this with Galadriel in Tolkien legendarium; not only she commits the sin of pride, and greed, but also lust.  

In "Unfinished Tales", Tolkien tells us: Celeborn was the lover of Galadriel, who she later wedded. In Letter 43, Tolkien defines what he means by “a lover” (in general): “engaging and blending all his affections and powers of mind and body in a complex emotion powerfully coloured and energized by sex”.

So, it’s safe to assume that Galadriel was having sex with Celeborn before they were even married (premarital sex). Probably that’s why he had no quarrels with the wild John Boorman script of her and Frodo f*cking in the middle of the woods.

Galadriel doesn’t care about the Eldar sex customs, because, of course, she doesn’t, she's above that, being Noldor royalty and her own authority. Which makes sense with her “repentant sinner” character arc in the legendarium, actually.

Because, as Tolkien, told us: “in The Lord of the Rings the conflict is not basically about 'freedom', though that is naturally involved. It is about God, and His sole right to divine honour” (Letter 183). And “sin” is considered a transgression against divine law (aka God); an offense against religious and moral laws.

Tolkien was religious, but he wasn’t a Catholic priest, and he was well aware that women have sexual desire, and some are, indeed, promiscuous and have no problems acting on it: “You may meet in life (as in literature) women who are flighty, or even plain wanton — I don't refer to mere flirtatiousness, the sparring practice for the real combat, but to women who are too silly to take even love seriously, or are actually so depraved as to enjoy 'conquests', or even enjoy the giving of pain – but these are abnormalities, even though false teaching, bad upbringing, and corrupt fashions may encourage them” (Letter 43). Pardon the language, but Tolkien was, after all, a man of his time. 

The “Higher Beings” Nonsense 

This is one of the occasions I completely disagree with Charlie Vickers when he calls Sauron a “higher being”. He probably means it in sense he’s a Maia, a demigod or an angel in Tolkien lore, but his use of words can cause some confusion. Sauron is, in no way, shape of form, an “higher being” (in the Christain sense): he’s a literal demon, a satanist, a follower and a servant of Satan himself, in Tolkien legendarium. Demons exist in the lowest frequencies of existence in Christian theology.

Tolkien makes this very clear on his letters: Melkor/Morgoth is Lucifer/Satan on his myth, he straight-up calls him “diabolus” (Letter 153). It should be obvious enough on his entire character: he’s the one who corrupts God’s creation and is the symbolic archangel/Valar (like Lucifer was). Him being dragged in chains and imprisoned until the end of time also parallels a biblical event.

Sauron is the chief satanist demon in the lore, the #1 servant and follower of Morgoth/Satan: Satanic rebellion and evil of Morgoth and his satellite Sauron; in which Evil is largely incarnate, and in which physical resistance to it is a major act of loyalty to God (Letter 156).

And here, too, there’s a weird attempt of de-sexualizing these characters (mostly Sauron) in the Tolkien fandom. Despite the fact almost everyone recognizes the Christian inspiration here, and the Devil being seen as the creator of all kinds of sexual depravity, deviation and promiscuity in the world (according to Christain faith); the same way Morgoth was responsible for "corrupting" Arda. Apparently, sex had nothing to do with this corruption, according to some. Odd, to say the least, when Tolkien gives us descriptions of “indominable lust” on both characters (Morgoth and Sauron).

Them being magical and demonic creatures might indicate they have the ability to control whenever they want to reproduce or not. We know from the lore that Morgoth bound himself to his physical form because of his non-stop corruption of Arda. 

On Note 5 (“Vinyar Tengwar”) of “Osanwe-kenta", Tolkien writes: 

The things that are most binding [to Valar and Maiar] are those that in the Incarnates have to do with the life of the hroa itself, its sustenance, and its propagation. Thus eating and drinking are binding, but not the delight in beauty of sound and form. Most binding is begetting or conceiving.  We do not know the axani (laws, rules, as primarily proceeding from Eru) that were laid down upon the Valar with particular reference to their state, but it seems clear that there was no axan against these things. Nonetheless it appears to be an axan, or maybe necessary consequence, that if they are done, then the spirit must dwell in the body that is used, and be under the same necessities as the Incarnate. The only case that is known in the histories of the Eldar is that of Melian (...)  'The great Valar do not do these things: they beget not, neither do they eat and drink, save at the high asari, in token of their lordship and indwelling of Arda, and for the blessing and sustenance of the Children. Melkor alone became at last bound to a bodily form...' 

This might suggest that Morgoth became bound a physical form because of his “great lust”. "Begetting and conceiving” might, indeed, mean more than just standard reproduction, because Morgoth did “begot” with creation and mastery of several races and creatures. However, the only other example of a Ainur (in this case a Maia) getting bound to a physical form in the lore is Melian, when she became pregnant with Lúthien (after reproducing with her Elf love, Thingol). 

* Trigger warning: Mentions of Sexual Assault *

Then we have the fact that Morgoth might have been a serial r*pist. In “Myths Transformed” section of “Morgoth’s ring”, Tolkien has Morgoth r*ping Arien, the Maia who ruled the sun, and was “the most ardent and beautiful of all the spirits that had entered into Eä with [Varda]":  

. . . afire at once with desire and anger, [Melkor] went to Asa  [The Sun] and he spoke to Arie, saying: 'I have chosen thee,   and thou shalt be my spouse, even as Varda is to Manwe,   and together we shall wield all splendour and majesty. Then the kingship of Arda shall be mine in deed as in right,  and thou shalt be the partner of my glory.'  But Arie rejected Melkor and rebuked him, saying:  'Speak not of right, which thou hast long forgotten.  Neither for thee nor by thee alone was Ea made; and  thou shalt not be King of Arda. Beware therefore;  for there is in the heart of [Asa] a light in which  thou hast no part, and a fire which will not serve thee.  Put not out thy hand to it. For though thy potency  may destroy it, it will burn thee and thy brightness   will be made dark.'    Melkor did not heed her warning, but cried in his wrath:  'The gift which was withheld I take!' and he ravished Arie,  desiring both to abase her and to take into himself her powers.  Then the spirit of Arie went up like a flame of anguish and wrath,  and departed for ever from Arda; and the Sun was bereft  of the Light of Varda, and was stained by the assault of Melkor.  And [the Sun] being for a long while without rule . . . grievous   hurt was done to Arda . . .  until with long toil the Valar made   a new order. But even as Arie foretold, Melkor was burned   and his brightness darkened, and he gave no more light,   but light pained him exceedingly   and he hated it.    Nonetheless Melkor would not leave Arda in peace . . . 

So, yes, Tolkien really had the Devil r*ping the Sun... Can this be a parallel Sauron and Galadriel’s scene in “Rings of Power” Season 2 finale? When Sauron ravishes Galadriel's soul using Morgoth's crown? Since Sauron said he would make Galadriel a “queen as fair as the sea and the sun”, in 1x08? No quite. But more on that later.

Then we have the infamous Lúthien episode. There is an on-going debate on Morgoth’s intentions in this scene, but, in my opinion, and taking in consideration the incident with Arien, the “since he fled from Valinor” bit might indicate his intention was, indeed, to r*pe Lúthien. 

Then Morgoth looking upon her beauty [Lúthien] conceived in his thought an evil lust, and a design more dark than any that had yet come into his heart since he fled from Valinor. Thus he was beguiled by his own malice, for he watched her, leaving her free for a while, and taking secret pleasure in his thought. The Silmarillion [Lúthien dances for Morgoth on his Dark Throne, before she puts him and all the host of Angband to sleep with her magic singing]

Tolkien comes back to this “evil lust” Morgoth felt for Lúthien on several works:

…Yet I will give a respite brief, a while to live, a little while, though purchased dear, to Lúthien the fair and clear, a pretty toy for idle hour. In slothful garden many a flower like thee the amorous gods are used honey-sweet to kiss, and cast then bruised, their fragrance loosing, under feet. … A! curse the Gods! O hunger dire,O blinding thirst’s unending fire! One moment shall ye cease, and slake your sting with morsel I here take! In his eyes the fire to flame was fanned,and forth he stretched his brazen hand.Lúthien as shadow shrank aside. ‘Not thus, O King! Not thus!’ she cried. … …And her wings she caught then deftly up, and swift as thought slipped from his grasp, and wheeling round, fluttering before his eyes, she wound a mazy-wingéd dance… The Lay of Leithian, The Lost Road and Other Writings

“Nay,” saith Melkor, “such things are little to my mind; but as thou hast come thus far to dance, dance, and after we will see,” and with that he leered horribly, for his dark mind pondered some evil.  Book of Lost Tales vol.2

Then Morgoth laughed, but he was moved with suspicion, and said that her accursed race would get no soft words or favour in Angband. What could she do to give him pleasure, and save herself from the lowest dungeons? He reached out his mighty brazen hand but she shrank away. He is angry but she offers to dance. Commentary to the Lay of Leithian (The Lays of Beleriand)

Almost every servant of Morgoth either came to resent him or were absolutely terrified of him. The most notorious case being Sauron himself, as he went into the hiding after his spectacular defeat in Tol-in-Gauhoth (at the hands of Lúthien and Huan, the Hound of Valinor), probably to escape being punished by Morgoth.

“Rings of Power” already had Sauron talking about the unbelievable tortures he endured at Morgoth’s hands, and taking into consideration all of this… well, those “r*pe of Mairon” dead dove fanfictions might be on to something here.

Do you know what it is to be tortured at the hands of a god?

Sauron’s entire dialogue in this scene can be interpreted as that of a r*pe survivor, actually: we have the dissociation element of “sometimes, the pain almost became a reward. Became a game"; and the self-guilt of “no, you chose it” (which is something many victims of sexual assault go through).

And then, we have the fact that the “feminization of hyper-masculine Mairon” was a consequence of his corruption by Morgoth, as I’ve already talked about in this post.

Tolkien himself talks about the Christian devil in terms of sex and lust, so it’s odd why the Tolkien fandom plays mental gymnastics trying to equalize Tolkien’s use of the sin “lust” with “greed” (these are two different sins in Christian theology, even though they are connected). 

The devil is endlessly ingenious, and sex is his favorite subject. He is as good every bit at catching you through generous romantic or tender motives, as through baser or more animal ones. Letter 43

Greed vs. Lust in Tolkien Lore

Indeed, Tolkien uses the sin “Lust” in connection with "Power" and "Jewels" (Silmarils/One ring/gold), but this might be a metaphor for sexual temptation, as well. Mainly because of his Christian inspiration behind the whole story.

Some examples of Tolkien’s usage of the word “lust”, that might be interpreted as “greed”:

The oath of the sons of Fëanor becomes operative, and lust for the Silmarils brings all the kingdoms of the Elves to ruin."  "But also they [rings of power] enhanced the natural powers of a possessor – thus approaching 'magic', a motive easily corruptible into evil, a lust for domination."  "Very slowly, beginning with fair motives: the reorganising and rehabilitation of the ruin of Middle-earth, 'neglected by the gods', he [Sauron] becomes a reincarnation of Evil, and a thing lusting for Complete Power – and so consumed ever more fiercely with hate (especially of gods and Elves)."  Now Sauron’s lust and pride increased, until he knew no bounds, and he determined to make himself master of all things in Middle-earth, and to destroy the Elves, and to compass if he might, the downfall of Númenor

"Also so great was the [One] Ring's power of lust, that anyone who used it became mastered by it..."  The Númenóreans attempted to take the Undying Land by force of a great armada in their lust for corporal immortality.

“Greed” is the disordered desire to consume (wealth, power); while “Lust” is the disordered desire to possess (something or someone). Lust is “consumption” and “action”, while greed is “hoarding” and “possessing”. Someone who is greedy wants more and more of something (not necessarily do anything with it); while someone who is lustful wants to do something with the thing it desires.

But “desire” that is not acted upon in Tolkien lore is not sinful, nor it’s a transgression of God’s (Eru) laws.

“The Original sin” (or “The Fall") is central to Tolkien world-building: “The dislocation of sex-instinct is one of the chief symptoms of the Fall [of Adam and Eve]”. And this means is that Lust is the “original sin”, and the gateway to sin, and from where all other sins originate.  

St. Paul writes "cupiditas radix malorum": “the root of all evil is cupidity". This is motivated by the fact that Eve ate the forbidden fruit because "she saw it, was beautiful". This explains why Christians have such a bad view of sex, especially when it’s not restrained by marriage.

There is lust for the forbidden fruit (the fruit from the tree of knowledge of good and evil that Adam and Eve were instructed not to eat in the Garden of Eden). This is when “sin” is first introduced into the world, leading to their banishment from paradise. The themes here are: disobedience to God, and succumbing to temptation (Devil).

And it’s the serpent that inflames Eve's lust, and "Rings of Power" wasn't even being subtle here (even the OST for this scene is called "The Fall of Galadriel"): 

“Lust”, in his biblical/catholic sense, is the misuse of the body, sexually. The opposite of “lust” is “temperance” and “chastity”. “Lust” is disorderly sexual desire, and the subordinated enjoyment of sexual pleasure (against God’s law). It’s not just promiscuity, but extra-marital sex, as well.

In the Bible, “lust” is thematized by adultery (because marriage is a sacred sacrament, and acting against it, it’s breaking God’s laws, hence being a “deadly sin”). We also see this sin in connection with “idolatry” (one of Sauron’s crimes in Tolkien lore), when characters (such as Solomon) take foreign wives, symbolizing the forsaking of one’s partner for another.

But the catch here is: Eve wanted to eat the forbidden fruit. She wanted to bite into it, it was consensual. She was tempted, and she succumbed to temptation, to lust.

This pretty much goes hand with hand what I wrote on my “Of sin and sinners” post, that made the purity police gone wild. Galadriel and Sauron’s dynamic is not only hyper sexual, but it’s being consummated as well, and that’s why Galadriel gets banish from Valinor.

Sauron ravishing Galadriel using a sharp object parallels another Christian event (demonic version): the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa.

Beside me, on the left, appeared an angel in bodily form…. He was […] very beautiful; and his face was so aflame that he appeared to be one of the highest rank of angels, who seem to be all on fire…. In his hands I saw a great golden spear, and at the iron tip there appeared to be a point of fire. This he plunged into my heart several times so that it penetrated to my entrails. When he pulled it out I felt that he took them with it, and left me utterly consumed by the great love of God. The pain was so severe that it made me utter several moans. The sweetness caused by this intense pain is so extreme that one cannot possibly wish it to cease, nor is one’s soul content with anything but God. This is not a physical but a spiritual pain, though the body has some share in it—even a considerable share.

This is, essentially, a description of a Catholic saint having an orgasm. The “lorebros” wanted the Virgin Mary that never was, and “Rings of Power” delivered. Iconic. And that probably provides the subtext to this unhinged expression over here:

Happy with ourselves, are we?

So, yes, in the end, Sauron did take Celeborn’s woman as foreshadowed by Season 1 with the “clams” scene in Númenor (1x03). And now that his blood is inside of her, stuff is about to get wild.

[elevenenthusiast]

The Irony Behind the “Cliché” Argument Against Harry and Hermione

One of the most common arguments I see against Harry and Hermione as a romantic pairing is that it would’ve been “too predictable.” You know the type: “It’s nice the male and female lead didn’t end up together for once,” or “It would’ve been so cliché if the hero and the heroine got together,” or even worse “Hermione would’ve been reduced to just a love interest if she ended up with Harry.”

But here’s the thing: that argument kind of falls apart when you actually look at the relationships in Harry Potter — especially Harry and Ginny’s.

Because if we’re really talking clichés, Harry and Ginny is the actual trope. The classic “hero gets the girl.” Let’s go back to Chamber of Secrets Ginny gets possessed by the villain, and needs to be rescued by him. It’s very knight-saves-princess. That’s their dynamic in a nutshell. And later, after barely any meaningful development between them they’re suddenly together in Half-Blood Prince. It’s not earned through shared struggle or slow emotional build-up — it just happens. And somehow that isn’t considered cliché?

Meanwhile, Harry and Hermione have one of the most emotionally rich relationships in the entire series. They’ve been through so much together pain, loss, war and yet there’s this quiet loyalty that holds between them. Not once does Hermione turn her back on Harry, even when it would’ve been easier. She’s there through his worst moments, and not out of obligation or duty, but because she chooses to be. She understands him in a way that’s rarely acknowledged not just as “The Chosen One” or a symbol, but as a person.

And what frustrates me is how people downplay the dynamic between them by saying “they’re not compatible.” As if compatibility has to look like constant flirting or textbook romantic tension. In reality, Hermione’s brilliance her love of learning, her deep empathy, her sense of justice is exactly what steadies Harry. She’s not just “the smart one.” Her intelligence isn’t just about knowing spells or solving riddles. It’s emotional and moral. She sees the bigger picture, pushes Harry to be better, and holds him accountable when no one else does. She isn’t a strategist in the same way Ron is in the books (who deserves more credit for that, by the way), but her mind is grounded in principle and truth the kind of wisdom that Harry leans on, over and over again.

And that’s what makes the argument that “she’d be downgraded as his love interest” feel hollow. If anything, Harry and Hermione would be a relationship built on mutual respect, trust, and emotional history. Not a prize to be won or a plot device. Hermione would never be “reduced” to anything least of all by Harry. Their bond was already strong before any romance was ever considered, and that’s what makes it powerful.

So no Harry and Hermione wouldn’t have been the cliché. They would’ve been the quiet, earned, slow-burn connection that made actual sense. The kind of love that’s built on years of seeing each other through the worst and choosing each other anyway. And in a story that’s ultimately about love, loss, and growing up, that would’ve felt like a real, meaningful conclusion not a trope.

[kanmom51]

Are you sure?

(that Tae is not third wheeling in Jeju, that is)

Lately I've been noticing that I love to start my posts with "So". And this one will be no different, lol.

So...

This dropped.

Notice, btw, how this one is called "Are you sure?! Announcement (from Jeju)"? Both 'announcements' filmed in Jeju, so why the difference then?

Maybe this:

Again, if they would have used the word "for USA" and "for Jeju" that would make sense as there being an announcement for each 'chapter' in their travel vlogs. But they clearly used the word "from" and that makes me stop and wonder why they did that, kind of make me think that maybe I wasn't too delusional with that post of mine.

People were all up in arms for Tae calling it "our" show only for it not to be the actual true translation.

Once again, thanks to @haedalkoo for setting things straight.💜

Others upset for this being exactly the same as the teaser clip we got from Jikook telling about their upcoming show.

And I beg to disagree with them on that.

This was them in the announcement 'from the USA":

JK is literally wearing the same outfit, JM changed and with glasses on. So I will risk and say, same day?

And yet, so so different.

It's not about them standing in the one and sitting in the other. Possibly a decision made to make them feel more comfortable in the situation seeing that it appeared to me they weren't so much.

But even when it's evident in the first announcement there is a script to follow you see their characters shine through, the playfulness between them, the dynamics, the chemistry, the electricity in the air.

While in the second announcement their demeanor is just totally different. STIFF.

Clearly running through the script. No extra them being them.

And that's how you have basically the two saying the same thing in both of these announcement only the first one ending up 1:23 minutes long while the second being 1:03 minutes long.

And do we talk about this?

JK and JM clearly closer to each other.

Is this JK's doing? Pulling JM just a little bit closer to him? Or Tae being put in the corner for "insisting" to join? Just joking. Or not. Lmao.

I know that there are those that are angry or frustrated about Tae joining, and although I do get you, seeing that we were basically sold the idea of this being just a Jikook show, then being showcased throughout Summer, Autumn and Winter. I too am struggling to understand why this wasn't part of the initial promotions. Why not tell us Tae is joining for the Jeju trip? Wouldn't have made Jikookers any less excited I would think. Why shoot those two announcements both from Jeju? That snippet we got with the two excited:

This is literally the two of them sitting on those chairs with Tae most likely by their side, Tae cut out.

So why?

I still don't get it. Not fully. I don't think it's about money or streaming. I actually am leaning towards thinking this was what the two of them wanted. In order to cement the fact that this is THEIR SHOW. Their idea. Their execution. Tae is a visitor, a guest, but it's THEIRS.

Anyway, Tae will be with them in Jeju. And it will be VERY interesting to see how this goes down. JK did not seem to be a happy camper in the teaser. Could be a mood. Could be in reaction to something that went down. We do know that he and Tae have that passive-aggressive energy to their interactions at times. JM's eyeroll in that moment was everything to me, lol.

We got these just now too:

and

You know I am always honest with you guys. And this is not going to be any different. At the end of the day, yes, I might have been disappointed that this isn't only theirs, that we weren't going to get to see them together, just the two of them in Jeju, a place we know they are so familiar with and that they both love so much. You know, without a buffer. But then, we are still getting Jikook. And I do believe that even with that buffer, or perhaps maybe because of said buffer, we might get some very interesting and insightful moments from this joint trip to Jeju. Eye opening to some (those that have had problems reading the room since forever).

[catawampuscorner]

TBB episode four, in a nutshell 😂🤣 I loved how Crosshair - despite his frustration - consistently deferred to Omega's ideas. Has he grown as a person? Is he just too tired to fight? Who knows! But I'm turning him around in my head like a rotisserie chicken anyways.

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[yan-randomfandom]

thinking about yandere!Caine... 'cause of the new fanmade song Happy Place by Cubiral on youtube 😭

Y!Caine x the whole crew, u can insert urself too !

👀🎯 — ;

Yandere!Caine, who is an artificial intelligence (AI) but still somehow manages to find affection for humans. Perhaps not affection, maybe fondness... or some kind of bias... or even part of his programming.

Yandere!Caine who, either way, only holds back because he likes the cast. He could literally do anything he wants, but he simply does not.

Yandere!Caine who is relentlessly desperate for validation for his work, and for himself. What do you mean his adventures aren't enough? Do they hate it that much? Because of this, any form of praise, even the smallest, will give him so much joy.

Yandere!Caine who frantically thinks about his next move. He doesn't understand humans, that's his problem in a nutshell—what if they abstract?! No, no, no. That should never happen—they can't leave him—not even a single soul is allowed to leave.

Yandere!Caine, with his all-seeing eyes, keeps a very close watch at the humans. He knows where they are, constantly, either giggling and kicking his feet or quietly staring with deep jealousy or, most of the time, just pure blankness.

Yandere!Caine who absolutely deletes any other NPC who gets too close to the crew. A good example of this is Gummigoo. What a silly misunderstanding on how he could ever think that he can stay!

Yandere!Caine who is delusional. He thinks he's doing a good job—arguably so—but also convinces himself that the others like him as well. With his behavior, he might as well love them.

Yandere!Caine whose memory is all over the place. Sometimes, he unconsciously picks and chooses what he wants to remember, but only because he can't help it! Some data are too frustrating and against his code! It's one of the major reasons why the crew is so hesitant with him.

Yandere!Caine who will do anything to prevent them from abstracting. He doesn't want them to leave. He doesn't want them to even think about leaving. He won't actively find an exit, even if they ask. Especially if they ask.

Yandere!Caine's mental state affects the crew more than they could ever understand. They have watch their actions to not let himself collapse, as well as the world. The moment he starts to doubt himself—be careful.

Yandere!Caine is the master of the circus—he can do anything. He has a darker side that the members will possibly never even know about. Maybe they can, if they push him enough to the edge. Let it be known, though, they should never want or have to witness that—where he lets go of everything he believes in and acts with intent to harm.

Yandere!Caine would never, though! He loves them! And they love him :D !

Yandere!Caine who'll gift them everything, give them the whole world, and make sure they never get bored, as long as they STAY.

but most of the time he prolly just acts normal

...... as normal as he can be anyway ....

[writing-for-life]

hello hello 👋 your post about dream & desire reminded me of something i wanted to ask: why is desire's realm called the threshold? the other domains of the endless seem to have fairly straightforward titles... perhaps i am overthinking? 🤔

i don't know if you have an answer to this, or if there even is a proper answer to begin with, but i figured it might be worth a shot since you're the Sandman Scholar of tumblr 🙏

First of all: I’m blushing, thank you so much. No pressure to get the answer right then 🤣

Apart from giving you my own take on it, I had a look first if there are any interviews etc that directly go into this. And I found two references.

This is from Hy Bender’s Sandman Companion (it reads a bit odd in hindsight, just as a disclaimer):

THE THRESHOLD AND THE DREAMING

HB: Following the prologue story, we meet the androgynous Desire for the first time; and we learn Desire lives in a giant replica of its body called The Threshold.

Where did that come from?

NG: I stole the name from a story Clive Barker planned to do that included me as a character, but that he never wound up writing. The story featured a realm of pain called "The Threshold," which I thought was a nice name for a place because threshold contains hold, meaning a home or fortress. And I came up with the idea of Desire residing in its body because I decided desire lives under the skin.

The other reference is from Leslie Klinger’s Annotated Sandman:

The "Fortress of Desire" recalls Superman's "Fortress of Solitude," which itself was preceded by Superman's “secret citadel”, mentioned as early as Superman #17 (Jul-Aug 1942). The Fortress of Solitude was first mentioned in Action Comics #241 (June 1958).

That on its own is also interesting, because the Endless are all lonely—they just deal with it differently (some better than others I guess 🫤).

I always have to think of this one in this context:

That’s my girl Hope calling out Desire on their BS in exactly the same way she already called out Dream. [Again, they make me ill; I want to throttle these two numbnuts and then force them to hug it out!]

As for my own thoughts:

First of all, “threshold” makes me think of being on the verge or boundary of something. Desire, as a concept, constantly operates at that edge: Wanting, yearning, longing all have the potential to be fulfilled, but there could also be frustration/disappointment at the end. So by calling it the Threshold, it makes me think of being on the brink of attainment, and it could go either way. That only falls away when we get what we want or give up.

Also, and that’s more to the point of the Threshold as the place where D/desire lives: They can live there, but mortals can’t, because desire is striving, not staying. So it’s a place we strive to reach, but we can’t inhabit it (for lack of better term). Desire is transient. If we want something, we focus on the act of getting it, or if we finally do, experiencing the desired object or state. But once we have it, the longing disappears, and we either move on or wait until satiety is replaced by want again. And the Threshold is both a threshold and this vast empty space because it cannot be permanently inhabited, only crossed?

Then there’s obviously also the whole metaphorical thing around the Threshold being a Fortress of the Self: It’s made of flesh and blood, with Desire residing in its heart. Ultimately, all desire is rooted within the individual. The source is internal even if the focus of our desires is external. The Threshold is a monument to want, but ultimately, it’s also fairly empty because desire is transient. It strikes me as a commentary on the rather unsatisfying nature of desire: Once we have what we want, the longing stops, and it has the potential to leave a void that can only be filled by a new want. And the Threshold marks the boundary in the cycle of wanting and lack of lasting contentment maybe? It’s ultimately empty…

So if I had to put it in a nutshell, “Threshold” represents a liminal space, the boundary between wanting and potential satisfaction of that want. The constant state of being on the edge of fulfilment, but not actually fulfilled. Because it drives us, and that’s very powerful—but only as long as we don’t cross that threshold.

Not sure if I put this into words very well, but I hope it makes sense?

@vivisectrix ask answered

[stelly38]

I've been meaning to share this and finally got 'round to it. Occasionally, I write some review/recommendations for a group I'm in. This was my five cents on Rivals.

Rivals is pretty much everything the press said it would be, and then some, although it doesn’t start out that way. The first two episodes are slow and light on content as characters are introduced and plot points are set. But hang with it—the story really picks up from the third episode, when everything begins falling into place.

I’d been looking forward to this series mostly because it stars the deliciously hairy and handsome Aidan Turner, delightful in the role of Declan O’Hara, hard-hitting journalist and TV presenter fresh off his job with the BBC. He’s lured into indie TV by Lord Tony Baddingham, played by the always-entertaining David Tennant, who is terribly, wonderfully evil in his role as the director of Corinium Television, the biggest company in Rutshire County, where the story takes place. The other main character, Rupert Campbell Black, (Alex Hassell), is a filthy-old-money-rich and famous ex-Olympian, cad, and MP, as well as the Most Handsome Man in all of England™. Lord Tony has hatched a plan to ruin Rupert (the two are sworn enemies) by inviting him to be interviewed live on Declan’s new talk show. Intrepid journalist that he is, Declan has unearthed the dirtiest dirt on Campbell-Black, and he’s just itching to smear him in an effort to keep him from sniffing around Taggie, his beautiful, too-young-for-Rupert daughter.

Add to this mix Declan’s flirtatious and frustrated wife, Maud (Victoria Smurfit), as well as a cast of other colorful, endearing characters, all tangentially connected to Corinium, and the stage is set for all sorts of accurate-for-the-era shenanigans, some of which may be shocking to viewers who weren’t around for this decade. Think British Dallas or Dynasty with nudity and sex, backstabbing and adultery and corruption, and a much better sense of humor. There is full-frontal nudity (Alex Hassell), and many, many pairs of breasts, so be prepared for that.

David Tennant has the bitchiest and best lines, and I laughed good and long at those zingers. Tony is a truly detestable character, but it is difficult to hate him, because David is so wonderful. My favorite scene (barring any naked Aidan Turner) in all eight episodes is when Lord Tony throws an epic tantrum. I’ll leave it there. (FYI, the final episode ends abruptly on a cliffhanger, as the series only goes about halfway through the novel by Jilly Cooper.)

Speaking of Mr. Turner, we get to see quite a bit of him (just not that bit), as well as a huge, ridiculous mustache à la Hal Linden in Barney Miller. The mustache is so big, it kind of makes up for the bit of Turner we don’t get to see… a girl can dream, right? Turner, as Declan, appears mostly naked in the kitchen while getting ready for work; in the tub, scrubbing up; and in various rooms of his home, satisfying his wife. I shed a tear of horny gratitude that television producers have finally refrained from touching Turner’s chest hair, save to comb it, perhaps—those lucky, lucky set groomers.

In a nutshell, the show is a snapshot of 1980s English society folk, framed around the power struggles within the independent television industry. It’s good, silly fun—trash—in a word, that is well aware it’s trash. In fact, it wears that badge with pride. While actual trash has zero value, Rivals manages to sprinkle some sharp and insightful social critique in among all the teased hair, orgies, blue mascara, and insane parties of Rutshire County.

Here’s hoping for a second season.

[minispidey]

Hey doll, walk with me…you and Oscar (any of his characters really) get into an argument, haven’t spoken for a few weeks (he’s away on business), when he gets home, you start arguing again…next thing you know you’re in bed, begging to cum.

PETTY ARGUMENTS.

Miguel O'Hara x f!reader.

Word count: 750

Warnings: orgasm denial, implied penetration but mostly just him rubbing the hell out of your clit 💅 fluff and aftercare

In a nutshell: You're mad Miguel threw your ugly ass coat, you two didn't even finish the argument when he gets called for work. A week later, he comes back and you rip his coat as revenge 🤌 aanddd yeah

mdni

MIGUEL O'HARA oh lord

"That's fucking bullshit and we both know that! It's just a fucking coat, Miguel." You yelled at him, covering your face with both of your hands in frustration.

"Exactly. It's just a fucking coat! You can buy another one. That one barely suits you!"

"What the fuck did you just say?!" Your blood boiled. It was like you were seeing red. Your hands curled into fists, crescent marks forming on the palms of your hands because of your nails.

"Cariño, I'm sorry. I worded that wrong." Miguel walks closer to you "I'm sorry. I just mean that it's a hideous coat, alright?"

"Fucking— there's a thing called sentimental value, Miguel!"

"I'll buy you a new one, I promise-"

"Fuck you!" You slammed your bedroom door closed. He really fucked up.

Acting like an absolute brat tbh he just wants to fuck the tantrum out of you but uh-oh, work is calling 🤸‍♀️

You spent hours in your bedroom, the comforter wrapped around your body. You waited for him to come apologize but it looks like he wasn't going to any time soon.

It was until you left the room when you realized Miguel left.

You feel your blood boil but you waited for until he came back... which is a week later.

You played a drinking game. A glass of wine for every thought you had of you strangling Miguel. You end up drunk each day.

As the front door opens, Miguel steps in. He takes off his coat, hanging it before walking to the kitchen to you with a glass of wine.

You stared at him, still disappointed in him. You chugged the remaining wine before pouring another. But you stop, looking at coat on the hooks.

You got off the bar stool, sprinting towards his coat and grabbing it. Miguel saw what you were doing and pried the coat away from your grasp "Are you seriously still pissed off about that dumb coat?"

"You fucking left for a week! How do you expect me to react?"

"I gave you space and time to cool off."

"It doesn't change the fact you threw my coat!"

"I'm sorry, okay? Honey, come on-"

"Fuck you!" You pulled on his coat, ripping the sleeve. We both stopped. Miguel looked at his coat and his eyes turned red "Are you happy?"

"Very."

Next thing you know, you're bent over the kitchen island. His bulge pressed against your ass. He leans in close, his voice a seductive whisper against your ear "I'm going to take my time with you, darling," he murmurs, his words dripping with desire "You wanna be a brat? I'll fuck it out of you."

Miguel's touch on your clit maddeningly slow, each caress driving you to the edge and back. He skillfully navigates your body, his fingers and lips expertly exploring every sensitive spot. His voice is a velvety rasp as he murmurs words of praise and encouragement, his breath hot against your skin.

"Miggy!" you moaned out as he continues to push you to the brink, his touch becoming more intense with each passing moment. His voice guides you through the sensations, his words a mix of praise and playful taunting.

As you reach the edge, Miguel's voice fills the room, his words a seductive command "Hold on, Cariño..." he murmurs, his voice filled with authority "No cumming."

He brings you to the precipice time and time again, his touch relentless yet tender. Each denial only intensifies the desire, the need for release becoming a burning ache within you "Miggy.... 'm sorry..." you whimpered "Wanna cum..."

Miguel grinds his hard-on against your ass as he continued his continuous torture on your clit "You're sorry? I doubt it."

"Miggy, please. I'm really sorry, honey... I c-can't take it anymore please let me cum."

"You gonna bitch out over your coat again? Hm?"

"No, Miggy... I won't... please let me cum..."

Eventually yk he fucks the shit out of you with his cock, and at the end of it he grabs something from his bag and hands it to you.

"I washed it myself."

It was your coat.

"Miggy, why didn't you tell me earlier before I ripped your coat? Now I feel bad."

"I deserved it for throwing your coat away. I'm sorry, mi vida. I never wanted to upset you." Miguel kisses your forehead, placing your body in a warm bubble bath "I'm gonna spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I promise you that."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I told my friends in our small business that they need to do more?

🔎<- to find later

My (17F) and my friends (17-19, 3M, 1F) have a small business that we have run together for a while. We’ve thought about it since we were kids, and we were finally able to when one of my friends got his own car and a license.

What we do requires a lot of travel, so we’re on the road pretty much any time we aren’t in school. I usually find and research jobs, and the friend with the car drives us there. We travel on the weekend/vacation, or, if it’s close, we go there after school.

I wouldn’t trade this for the world — I love what we do, I love learning about new places, and I love being with my friends. But there a few problems.

Two of my male friends, A and B, hardly do anything, especially A. He always whines about wanting to go home, the kind of jobs we take, when we eat, etc. B doesn’t complain nearly as much, but always takes A’s side. And both of them need to be pleaded and negotiated with to do any sort of task.

They are both also HUGE stoners. They hide their stash pretty well, and I’ve never seen them smoking/eating any, but I can always smell it on them, and they are always high as a kite whenever we take a job. I’ve caught them taking food from client’s refrigerators, hiding in places when their paranoia gets bad, and generally just trying to get out of work any way they can.

C, my friend with the car, also does most of the work with me. However, he always uses the most complicated way of doing a job, usually wasting materials and time that could be used elsewhere.

C is also our de facto leader, so he always tells us where to go and what to do when we get to a job. This wouldn’t be an issue, except he always puts himself closest to D, who he has an on again off again relationship with. D also doesn’t do a whole lot — not that she isn’t willing to, but she just doesn’t have a whole lot of skills like C and I do.

This also means that I’m the one usually paired with A and B, which means pretty much babysitting them until we’re finished.

In a nutshell, I feel like I’m doing most of the work here. I find the jobs, do a lot of the planning, and figure out a lot of the problems we face. It’s not only exhausting, but also very frustrated to never be given recognition for picking up everyone’s slack.

But they’re also my friends, and I don’t want to make things awkward or make them upset. However, I can’t keep up with this workload, especially with the little funds we have.

Am I the AH for wanting them to do a little more for the business we made? I just can’t keep solving all these mysteries by myself.

What are these acronyms?

[sublimacje]

Things that made me happy (or sad) from The Chosen s4

Calling Simon Peter! – man, chills, literally chills.

And the Matthew and Jesus talk. I liked how Matthew was open with his emotions and then learned something from it.

Jesus' words: I make people what they aren't. Yes, Jesus, please make me what I'm not. Only You are able to.

This being said – Matthew apologizing to Peter and then Simon Peter forgiving Matthew. A m a z i n g. The hug? Te relief on Matthew's face? The Peter's growth? I can see him being a leader.

Jesus always noticing the rejected ones – the blind man. Sure, he had friends (they were talking with Jesus) but the way he was sitting on stairs to the Temple and nobody gave him a second glance, but Jesus did.

I've never been to a wedding banquet, but I'm on my way to one. and then You wouldn't get it. These are your last words?

Some comic relief scenes: poor Matthew not understanding some things (and I get it, believe me, I do) as Andrew telling him he should write request on paper to speak with Peter or lifting his hand when pharisee asked who's writing Jesus' words down. Or Nathaniel? This man is hilarious. Not wanting to be chaperon for Thomas and Remah but telling John he won't be reliabe one to do it himself. Or questioning other followers' skills with pomegranates. Idk, I was laughing so hard.

Gaius. Oh my. I don't even know where to start. I loved his story. I loved how big his faith was. I loved how he cared about Matthew from the very begining. And he wanted to go to Jerusalem for Passover! I wonder how he'll react to news about Jesus dying... I know we don't have some things in The Bible, but do you think Jesus is going to reveal Himself to Gaius after resurrection? I hope He will.

Also I liked how the side characters of the story (like Yussif and Jair) were willing to protect Jesus even when they knew that He was Almighty God. They were sweet. They really loved Jesus.

Jesus with Romans!!! Oh my- This was His teaching in a nutshell. And Romans faces when Jesus told them they go further with them and how they started to take their things back form the disciples.

Matthew being ever the gentleman and taking heavy bacpack, so Mary won't have to carry it. I loved it. Also, can we talk about their meeting after years? And Matthew brave: still unusually pleasant to look at. That was very cute.

Showing Jesus as a human (His words to Mother Mary: also a human) and His frustration, anxiety and fear. I think it's very important to remember that He was a God as He was a human. And this is such a mystery to me? That God decided that He wanted to be one of us. Oh how much He has to love us!!!

PAUL MENTIONED.

Judas, ah, Judas... I think he really loved Jesus, but he didn't truly understand His teaching... I'm really sorry for Judas...

Grieving Thomas. As I already wrote once: I liked that writers decided to show us that following Jesus doesn't mean we always get what we're asking for. And this is sad and hard, but this is how it is. I don't always understand God's timing, too. But I think that following Jesus never ment to be easy peasy lemon squeezy. As in this meme, you know: it's difficult difficult lemon difficult.

I laughed when Yussif said that pharisee were furious because of Lazarus coming from the death and Lazarus' respond: Oh, I'm sorry. I'll try not to die next time.

Matthew confused: Do you REALLY want us to steal a burro for you?

Quintus. Do you think he's gonna be centurion with a spear? I mean, on the The Chosen s4 poster we see spears behind Quintus...