#history of memory foam | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

headspace-hotel · 1 year

Text

It's easy to see how chemophobia became so widespread to the point that companies advertise their products as containing "only ingredients you can pronounce." It's wretched that this spawned the antivax movement and other similar movements, but there are incredibly good historical reasons behind WHY people are terrified of "chemicals."

Reasons like: Agent Orange, DDT, Superfund sites, any of a wide range of incidents where chemical companies—in many cases, knowingly—poisoned people and communities because Number Go Up. History has shown again and again that companies do not give a fuck about ruining people's lives exposing them to toxic substances.

Unfortunately these people live in a world where EVERYTHING around them contains ingredients they can't pronounce and there is very little knowledge of basic chemistry, and a person has no choice but to either develop life-altering paranoia about contamination, or just settle into a sense of (naive?) security about the Chemicals in the world around them.

So these powerful cultural memories (and totally rational distrust of Bayer, DuPont, and Monsanto) have been hijacked to Sell Product (No chemicals! Ingredients you can pronounce! All Natural! Organic!) and/or been channeled into some horrible and ultimately baseless movements that, these days, form a pipeline straight into fascism.

Alex Jones' anxiety about chemicals "turning the freakin' frogs gay" is part of The Anxiety about a world that is now made of ingredients we can't pronounce. Our world is now made of very different physical stuff than the world of our ancestors, and it makes total sense for panicky reactionaries to blame sexualities, genders, religions, and ways of existence they don't understand on the strange, unprecedented "chemicals" that have intruded into the material components of the world around them.

The material changes to our lives mesh quite nicely with the paranoia of fascism. People, without any scientific expertise that would inform them, decide that "natural" things are good and "artificial" things are bad, and this leads people to reject very simple, comprehensible, and well-understood processes like "heating something up, but not quite to boiling, and letting it cool down" (pasteurization) in favor of "contracting bovine tuberculosis."

But it's not that natural is good and artificial is bad, it's that natural is, at least in theory, understandable, and artificial is bound only to the laws that tell DuPont it must disclose what is in a product being sold and test the product for harms to human and animal life—and the power of those laws to actually control DuPont. Hemlock and nightshade can be recognized and avoided, but a Product emerges from an Amazon Prime box in a curiously sterile afterbirth of plastic and foam, stinking of acrid VOC's that some people enjoy in the form of the "new car smell."

And we know that nature has no shortage of things that kill us that we CAN'T readily detect with our senses, like lead and uranium, but before mining for coal and metals ripped open our Earth and pumped thousands upon thousands of tons of toxic waste up from its depths, any given creek or patch of dirt in Eastern Kentucky was at least less likely to be dangerously toxic and radioactive.

This definitely fuels the blind and often dangerous urge to go back to a time when things were "simpler." It lubricates the slide down into reactionary bigotry a little bit, this abundance of ways the world has gone Wrong and has been irreparably changed.

It gets harder and harder to say "No, natural is not always good/bad, no, unnatural is not always good/bad" and be listened to. Our world is far, far harder to understand now in some ways, but we have to try, and that's a hard sell.

#chemophobia #environment #fascism

2K notes · View notes

see-arcane · 7 months

Text

As I looked, the eyes saw the sinking sun, and the look of hate in them turned to triumph. But, on the instant, came the sweep and flash of Jonathan's great knife. I shrieked as I saw it shear through the throat; whilst at the same moment Mr. Morris's bowie knife plunged into the heart. It was like a miracle; but before our very eyes, and almost in the drawing of a breath, the whole body crumble into dust and passed from our sight. I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of final dissolution, there was in the face a look of peace, such as I never could have imagined might have rested there.

I don't know what's getting to me about this scene this time around, but I can't help imagining a cinematic beat in which Dracula, head cleaved from his shoulders, steel through his heart, looks to Jonathan. Fire-eyed, white-haired, triumphant against his personal nemesis and would-be keeper at last.

For just a moment, Dracula is whoever he was before he was an inhuman monster. A great man? A warlord? A hero or a horror in human flesh depending on the history. But a man again, whatever else. He looks at Jonathan.

Maybe he sees him.

Maybe he sees someone else. Some long ago youth who lived and died and was remade in profane immortality for the sake of supernatural strength, taught by ancient Powers beneath a distant mountain. A youth who would sell his soul to accomplish his goal.

As the sun sets red, Dracula sees that long-ago youth victorious but not yet damned--the man conquering the monster--and, for the first time in centuries, thinks he sees his reflection. The hunter, the warrior, the victor. How strange not to see him in armor. When did you change your sword? Ah, well.

You did it just the same. You did it...

(What was his name before all this? Memory is cracking, turning to powder in his mind. His name is...his name was...)

((No, no, old man. He is not you. You know. You know he is--he's--))

Voiceless, his lips move. Red a final time as his throat's foam bleeds up and out of the stained mouth.

Thank you, my friend.

There is time enough to smile before he crumbles away to sleep.

#on the one hand YES THE FUCKER IS DEAD #on the other hand goddamn it Bram why'd you have to make his last moment on Earth so damn soft #it's making me ponder things #jonathan harker #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily

561 notes · View notes

draconic-desire · 1 day

Note

your yan!neuvi series got me on a chokehold !! I feel so bad for darling but it got me thinking, would neuvillette ever allow them to i dont know, go visit mondt to look at their parents’ grave (?).

Neuvillette meets his (dead) in-laws edition 😂

Ok this idea is simultaneously kinda funny but also makes me cry a bit because I totally think Neuvillette would have ensured your family’s wellbeing in your absence. Despite his flaws, he still maintains his overwhelming sense of duty and justice.

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

(A Dance with the Dragon Interlude)

Talking about your life four centuries ago has become a bit of a taboo in the household you share with Neuvillette.

Mostly, it only serves to incite an argument, one you are always predestined to lose. The other times, it only reminds you of painful memories. So, you’ve learned to bite your tongue, to keep your past held tightly to your heart. Neuvillette doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, you believe he might prefer if your history were to be wiped from your mind completely, leaving a blank slate for him to carve his essence into.

Which is why you’re so shocked when, on a particularly storming evening, the Chief Justice himself requests, “Tell me about what your parents were like.”

Jolting, you nearly drop the book in your hands. He’s not looking at you—usually, having his gaze on you translates to irritation, concern, or lust. When he’s looking away from you, as he is now, irises trained on the waves battering the cliffs below your home, you know that means he is instead thinking, pondering.

But thinking about what? Your eyes narrow, and your heart accelerates. What is he getting at?

A hand clenches around your heart when you try to picture your mother and father in your head—and fail. Four hundred years without a visit or simple image…of course their features have faded over time. But you’ll never forget the warmth, the knowledge that they loved you until the end and supported your lifelong wish of pursuing marine biology, even when it took you away from them.

You only shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about that, Neuvillette.”

He turns to you, now, eyes filled with calculation. A judge presiding over his court. “I had no parents. I simply…came to exist. Born of the water, the waves, the sea foam, and bestowed with this primordial power.” He glances down at his gloved hand, palm squeezing into a fist. “So the idea of parents is…foreign to me. Though I have a sense of the kind of ceaseless, unconditional love that defines a family.” You know he’s talking about his feelings for you, and your tattoo burns. “Experiencing a loss of that magnitude would be incomprehensible.”

For the life of you, you cannot figure out his endgame here. Why acknowledge your loss? Why equate his adoration and obsession with you for parental love? Your eyes burn, your breath quickens, you feel the tattoo pulse with energy as you—

“Do you ever wonder about how they lived the rest of their lives?”

Yes. No. Everyday. Somehow, you find your voice, a quiet thing filled with warning. Your skin feels so hot, like your veins are laced with lightning. “And how would you know anything about that?”

Neuvillette’s sharp eyes cut to your frame. “I…made sure that they were fully provided for. They lived happy lives, believing you to be living out your dreams in Fontaine. They are now buried together, in the cathedral cemetery overlooking the Brightcrown Mountains.”

Your breath hitches, and that power in your blood begins to settle. Their favorite place. The Brightcrown Mountains, where your father proposed to your mother. The Favonius Cathedral, where they were married. And the cemetery behind the church, where your grandparents had been entombed, too.

Something falls onto your lap. It’s only when you touch your hands to your face that you realize you’re crying. Neuvillette watches you with concern, one hand raised and poised to reach out to you, but he keeps his distance as he lets you process.

You release a shaky sigh. Was it true? Did they pass with no fear for your safety, in ignorant bliss of your extended life? The thought, although morbid in some ways, actually brings you a sense of peace. Your parents never had to endure the loss of you in the same way you had for them.

You swallow thickly, your voice hoarse with emotion. “Can we…visit them?”

That sets Neuvillette’s back ramrod straight as he blinks. You’ve only been out of the house a handful of times, and he was the one to bring this topic to light, but to venture out of Fontaine entirely? His protective and possessive instincts flare immediately, screaming at him to shut this idea down, to grab you and sink his teeth into your neck, dominant, claiming. But as his silver eyes flick across your face, taking in your tears, the tremble in your hands, the pit of mixed despair and relief in your eyes, he relents.

Slowly, he blinks, taking in a deep breath. You’re expecting an excuse, a verbal slap on this wrist disguised as concern for your safety. Which is why, for the second time tonight, you’re stunned when Neuvillette, rising to his feet, extends his hand. “I’ll take you there.”

~*~

The trip is easy, thanks to the Hydro Dragon’s teleportation abilities. The two of you arrive at the large square in front of the cathedral, the statue of Barbados towering above you. Briefly, you wonder what the Archon of Freedom thinks about your situation, or if he even deigns to care.

Not much has changed about Mondstadt in four hundred years. The streets still possess an older feel, cobblestone streets and stone walls surrounding the city. After seeing the drastic change in Fontaine, the fact envelopes you in a sense of comfort, knowing that at least one aspect of the world has aged alongside you, long-lived but unchanged.

It’s long grown dark, and the heavy downpour persists. Neither of you brought an umbrella as you ascend the stairs and wrap around to the cemetery behind the church. The rain, however, seems to dissolve into your skin rather than chilling you or soaking your clothes, no doubt another consequence of Neuvillette’s magic coursing through your veins.

The Hydro Dragon leads you to a small plot towards the back. Two tombstones are erected side by side, and you fall to your knees as you read: (Mother’s name) and (Father’s name) (L/n). Lives entwined to their last breath, they soar high above the clouds.

You hear a rustle of fabric, and soon Neuvillette has joined you, kneeling by your side. He raises his arm, and tendrils of blue light pool from his palm, forming the shape of beautiful flowers. They surround the graves, a sea of blues to celebrate your loved ones.

The two of you sit there for what could have been minutes or hours. All you know is that this is the most at peace you’ve felt in four hundred years.

133 notes · View notes

captainsophiestark · 8 months

Text

The 60s

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Day 9 Prompt: "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Summary: Klaus wiped the memory of the love of his life after hundreds of years together to try to protect them from Mikael. Now, however, his ex has their memories back is going to find their boyfriend. Even if he is in someone else's body.

Word Count: 2,215

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I was going to kill Klaus Mikaelson.

Unlike the other thousand people who'd probably had that thought in the last week alone, however, mine was actually justified. For hundreds of years, Nik and I had been together, happy, and in love. We'd wandered the world together, side by side, having each other's backs through thick and thin. Out of everyone in the entire world, I was the only one he'd always trusted, completely, without a doubt in mind.

And then Mikael had shown up one time too many.

Nik and I had faced him a few times, and he had firmly held the spot of 'my least favorite Original' for literal centuries. We'd always come out shaken, but fine, until about a hundred and fifty years ago. That time, he'd gotten Nik cornered, so I'd jumped in to save him. Mikael had almost killed me instead.

We'd managed to both make it out alive, thankfully, but Nik had been foaming at the mouth with nerves and fear. I'd tried to calm him down, but it hadn't worked. He'd gotten too scared, so for the first time in our entire relationship, he broke my trust. He compelled me to forget him, and to go somewhere else, far away, where I'd never be put in danger by him and his family again.

It had worked, unfortunately for me. Until recently, when something had happened to break the compulsion and bring my memories back. At first, I'd been terrified that it meant Nik had died. But, after a little investigating and compelling of my own, I realized he'd been body-hopping with the help of witches. Something about it must've shaken his compulsion loose, and allowed me to remember.

It hadn't taken me long to track him down to Mystic Falls, Virginia. I couldn't help being a little proud of myself for finding him so quickly; it helped that I knew him well. I'd arrived in Virginia last night, and managed to track down Nik's exact location and hiding place just as quickly. He'd apparently taken over the body of a history teacher at the local high school. Who would I have been to miss that opportunity?

With a little more compulsion, I'd convinced the front office staff to let me into the teacher's history class. I found a seat to one side of the classroom, then settled in to wait for Nik to show up. I almost blew my cover when, a moment later, the spitting image of Katherine Pierce walked through the door.

I knew he'd come to town for the doppelgänger, but it was still surprising to see someone who looked just like Katherine. Apparently, that lie we'd planted about the Curse of the Sun and the Moon had been working out pretty well. She sat on the other side of the room from me, flirting with another vampire and sitting with her witch friend. I sighed, already ready to leave the classroom, when Nik finally walked in.

The teacher, Alaric Saltzman, was tall, with brown hair, and dressed in something I could almost see Nik wearing normally. He strode through the open door with a "hello class" and went right to his desk like it was any other day. I snorted.

"What... are we learning today?" he mused, flipping through his history book. He hadn't looked up once; hadn't had a chance to see me yet.

"With the decade dance tonight we've been covering the sixties all week," a girl in the front chimed in. Nik looked up.

"Right. The sixties."

For the first time, he turned, and I thought his eyes might finally find me. Instead, they found the doppelgänger—Elena—like a heat-seeking missile.

Understandable, since we didn't think she existed. But still annoying.

He glanced from her to the open classroom door, then turned to the board. I huffed a sigh and rolled my eyes. What was he gonna do, just grab her and run? Much too obvious for his style, and we both knew it.

"The uh... the sixties," he started, mentioning the decade for the third time now as he turned around to write the same words on the board. "...I wish there was something good I could say about the sixties."

I covered a snort with my elbow. I almost raised my hand to say something like "Maybe they would've been better if you'd still had me with you", but that was also too sloppy for my style. Too many students asking questions, seeing me, and too many enemies possibly getting hints about Nik.

"They actually kind of sucked," Nik continued. "Except for the Beatles, of course, they made it bearable."

His eyes strayed to Elena's witch friend, and my heart squeezed in my chest. Nik was recounting memories that didn't include me, when I should've appeared in almost all of them. The hurt was only semi-manageable because I wasn't looking at the love of my life's face while hearing this, too.

"Uh, what else was there? The Cuban Missile... thing. The uh... we walked on the moon, that was, uh... Watergate."

"Watergate was the seventies, Ric," Elena chimed in with a fond smile. "Uh, I mean, Mr. Saltzman."

"Right," Nik continued, a familiar edge to an unfamiliar smile. His eyes never strayed from Elena. "It all kind of... mushes together up here. Sixties, seventies. Thank you, Elena."

I watched him teach the rest of the class in a way that could only be described as 'playing with his food'. He said Elena's name another time or two, savoring it in a way I recognized as him relishing in victory. I was happy to see him happy, but the added side effect of him being so wrapped up in doppelgänger nonsense meant that he still hadn't noticed me.

I tried not to let it get to me. Especially since it had given me the best opening I could've asked for to scare the daylights out of Nik and get just a little bit of payback.

Once the bell rang, I stood and hovered at the edge of the classroom. Nik dismissed everyone and said goodbye to the class, saying a special, specific goodbye to Elena and watching her leave. It wouldn't have been terribly obvious to anyone with no reason to suspect 'Alaric' was not who he said he was, but it was ridiculous to me.

Nik moved to the door to look out into the hallway as the classroom emptied of every single student except for me. He watched Elena go, his back to what he thought was an empty classroom, giving me exactly the opening I wanted. I crossed the room quickly but quietly, using all of my vampire skills to keep him from noticing me until I was right next to him, almost shoulder to shoulder.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I said, right into Nik's ear. He'd jumped and spun around at the first word, but now stood frozen, his mouth open in shock as he stared at me. I grinned. "You know, whatever you were planning to do to the doppelgänger. At school. In a human body. While she's surrounded by supernaturals. That's just a bad idea."

"Y/N..." he breathed, voice barely above a whisper. Then, he surged forward, wrapping me tight in his arms and spinning me around in a hug. He moved backwards into the classroom, and I slammed the door with my heel just to avoid any prying eyes.

Nik finally pulled back, eyes wide and a vague smile on his face, like he was happy but didn't actually believe this was real. I smiled back at him, even though he didn't quite look like my Nik, and gave his hands a reassuring squeeze.

"How... how is this possible?" he asked, his voice still quiet, like any loud noise might shatter the moment. "How are you here?"

"I still don't totally know. But I think, when you moved into this... teacher body... it was enough for your compulsion on me to break."

Nik's face fell immediately, as it should have. I frowned, the immediate happiness of finding Nik having worn off.

"I can't believe you did that to me, Nik," I said, taking a step back from him. "It was supposed to be the two of us, through everything. Against everything. No matter what. How could you betray that?"

He gave a frown of pain, taking a half step towards me before thinking better of it.

"You don't understand. My... Mikael... almost killed you. If I'd been the cause of your death-"

"Okay, first of all, you would never be the cause of my death. You know how I know? Because you would never kill me." I stared at Nik long and hard, and although he looked away from my gaze quickly, I never did. "Second, the only person who would've been the cause of my death was Mikael. You are not responsible for a bad person trying to kill me."

"Unless that bad person is trying to kill you to get to me." He said it quietly but firmly, looking up at me with a rueful smile from lowered lashes, like he'd just said some checkmate truth we'd both been avoiding. I put a hand on my hip and glared.

"Actually Nik, no, it's still not your fault. It's the bad person's fault. That's it. And before you start telling me it's your fault for dragging me into it or whatever, I could've left. I didn't want to, and I still don't want to. I've seen every level of crazy your life has to offer, and I'm signing up for all of it.

"And Nik, before you try to tell me how much you'd miss me if you lost me, you did lose me! By letting fear drive you to compel me out of your life. And I also lost you. I guess I've been generally content for the past hundred and fifty years, but I've never been totally satisfied. Because something is missing. I've known total and complete happiness, and it's whenever I'm with you. This immortal life isn't worth living without you, Nik. Don't try to tell me it is."

He stared at me for a few long moments, then pulled me to him again. Unlike the first hug, this time our feet stayed planted firmly on the ground, wrapped tight in the strong hold of each other's embrace. I sighed as Nik rested his head against mine, moving his mouth right next to my ear.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Y/N. I shouldn't have done that to you. I was just... terrified at the thought of losing you."

"I know. But Nik, we're nothing if we're not together. I need you to promise me you won't do that again. The two of us, side by side, for eternity. That's it, alright?"

He pulled away, hands holding my arms tight as he stared me straight in the eye.

"I give you my word."

Slowly, a smile spread across my face, a new warmth growing in my chest. Not once, in hundreds of years, had Nik ever broken his word to me. We were going to be okay.

He grinned back at me once he noticed my smile, then leaned in to kiss me. I stopped him, jerking back a bit, and he gave me a concerned look.

"I love you, and I am so happy to see you again, but I'm not kissing you until you're back in your own body. I have no interest in kissing this rando you've possessed."

Nik grinned, and although it wasn't his body or his smile, I swear it looked exactly like it was supposed to.

"Fair enough. I don't think I want you kissing this 'rando' either. What do you say we get out of here, and do what needs to be done so I can get back into my body, break my curse, and kiss you properly?"

"...Not in that order, right?"

"No, not in that order."

"Then deal."

Nik smiled and took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as we headed towards the door together. I had no idea what the next part of his plan was, but once I was caught up to speed, I knew we'd be putting it into action shoulder to shoulder again, and all would be right with the world.

"You know, you're a shit teacher," I mused as we headed off into the high school together. Nik shot me a look as he kept leading me towards whatever destination he had in mind.

"Do you remember much interesting information to teach children about the sixties?"

I shrugged. "No. But I could probably fake it better than you. Watergate."

"I was in Australia, Watergate was a low priority."

"I was in Greenland, so... checkmate."

He just shook his head, a smile finding its way onto his face all the same. I was the only one in the world Nik trusted endlessly, the only one who could find him in a matter of days no matter where he was in the world, and the only one who could get away with giving him shit with absolutely no repercussions. And now that I had him and my memories back, I was never letting him go.

****************

TVD/TO Masterlist: @elenavampire21

200 notes · View notes

seat-safety-switch · 5 months

Text

Visiting actual civilization is fun. In most cities, things don't start happening until you leave the endless expanse of suburbia and go to the inner city. Downtown haters will tell you not to do it, of course. It's "unsafe," but so is driving a fifty-year-old car without airbags or the ability to turn left. Joke's on them: not only will they use more fuel over the lifetime of their car idling at lights waiting for a green arrow, but they're also going to miss out on my favourite part of downtown, the sausage cart.

Long ago, according to local legend, this sausage cart was opened by a dude from Poland whose name is lost to history. His descendants now own a network of sausage carts all throughout downtown, but this one – the true original – is the only choice of the tube-meat connoisseur. I love to visit, get a smokie and a questionably-branded pop, and be back on the road, before the parking patrol has even twigged to the fact that I left my car in the memorial fountain once again.

Last weekend, I went down there and there was a problem. The operator, whose name will also be lost to history because I ain't no snitch, was worried that his customer base was starting to get pulled away by the falafel cart across the street. This was a valid worry: not only was the falafel cheaper, more flavourful, and more delicious, but they had a guy dressed up as a giant foam gyro breakdancing on the sidewalk. It was a nearly irresistible combo, one that I could only pull myself away from out of blind loyalty to the Sausage King's bravest foot soldier.

Now, I'm not one to get involved in petty squabbles like this normally. I would have just left, but the dude in the gyro suit started chirping at me as I approached my car. My attorney has suggested that I not repeat the words he spoke about my humble Volare, but I assure you that he ate said words, as I set about doing a spiteful, highschooler-grade one-wheel-peel burnout to enshroud their business in tire smoke. Of course, that burnout then resulted in the half-century-old automatic transmission letting go and splashing white-hot Dexron III® all over the cart full of ingredients, but it got results nonetheless. I don't know what they're complaining about, it didn't even taste bad when I helped myself to a free sample after they ran away.

85 notes · View notes

stuckinapril · 3 months

Note

Do you have any poetry recommendations? The poem poll made me realize that I like. ONLY know Iraqi poets. Like the only non-Iraqi poet I can name off the top of my head is Robert Frost

i'm literally hooked on poetry. even on days where i can't sit down to read a book, i try to consume at least one poem a day bc it keeps me sane. it actually does. i recommend signing up to one poem a day newsletters--those have been a game changer for me. as for recommendations, my favorite poems change every week, but current faves (whose authors i regularly go back to/are a good starting point) would be:

elegy for my sadness - chen chen (Who invented the word / “ennui”? A sad Frenchman? / A centipede? They should’ve never / been born. They should’ve seen me / in Paris, a sad teenage / exchange student. I was so sad / & so teenaged, one day my host sister / gripped my hand hard & even harder / said, SOIS HEUREUX. / BE HAPPY. & miraculously, / I wasn’t sad anymore. / All I felt was the desire to slap my host sister. / See, I was angry in Paris, which is clearly / not allowed. One can be sad in Paris (I was) / & one can be in love in Paris (I was not), / but angry? Angry in Paris?")

a pity, we were such a good invention - yehuda amichal ( "A pity / We were such a good / And loving invention / An aeroplane made from a man and wife / Wings and everything / We hovered a little above the earth")

like a small cafe, that's love - mahmoud darwish ("I say to myself at last / Perhaps she who I was waiting for / was waiting for me, or was waiting for some other man / or was waiting for us, and did not find him/me.")

bible study - tony hoagland ("Who knows, this might be the last good night of summer / My broken nose is forming an idea of what’s for supper / Hard to believe that death is just around the corner / What kind of idiot would think he even had a destiny?")

mother and child - louise gluck ("Why do I suffer? Why am I ignorant? / Cells in a great darkness. Some machine made us; / it is your turn to address it, to go back asking / what am I for? What am I for?")

america, america - saadi youssef ("We are not hostages, America, / and your soldiers are not God's soldiers... / We are the poor ones, ours is the earth of the drowned gods, / the gods of bulls, / the gods of fires, / the gods of sorrows that intertwine clay and blood in a song... / We are the poor, ours is the god of the poor, / who emerges out of farmers' ribs, / hungry / and bright, / and raises heads up high...")

the duino elegies (seventh elegy respectively) - rainer maria rilke ("Not only the devotion of these unfolded forces, / not only the paths, not only the evening fields, / not only, after a late storm, the breathing freshness, / not only approaching sleep and a premonition, evenings... / also the nights! Also the high summer nights / also the stars, the stars of this Earth! / O to be dead at last and know them eternally, / all the stars: for how, how, how to forget them!")

the endlessness - ada limon ("How was i supposed to feel then? About moving in the world? How could I touch anything or anyone without the weight of all of time shifting through us?")

psalm - adonis ("Open my memory and study my face beneath its words, learn my alphabet. When you see foam weaving my flesh and stone flowing in my blood, you will see me. I am closed like a tree trunk, present and ungraspable like air. Thus I cannot surrender to you.")

the war works hard - dunya mikhail ("The war continues working, / day and night. / It inspires tyrants / to deliver long speeches / awards medals to generals / and themes to poets / it contributes/ to the industry / of artificial limbs / provides food for flies / adds pages to the history books / achieves equality / between killer and killed / teaches lovers to write letters / accustoms young women to waiting / fills the newspapers / with articles and pictures / builds new houses / for the orphans / invigorates the coffin makers / gives grave diggers / a pat on the back / and paints a smile on the leader's face.")

#this list is me being conservative btw bc i got overwhelmed looking at the poetry list in my notes app ... its so hard to decide #a couple of these are iraqi poets but cmon #it's not a poetry list without mikhail and youssef's genius #poetry recs

63 notes · View notes

secondjulia · 1 year

Text

Rough... but soft? (A fic in honor of Hob Gadling's thighs)

Hob's chest hair is practically a character in Dreamling fic, but is nobody going to appreciate these bear legs? Because I will. I volunteer for the task.

Summary: Hob wakes to Dream... discovering some details of the human body he hadn't previously considered.

Rated: M for mentions of body parts & sexytimes

Warnings: none

Ao3 link

Hob woke to the prickling sense of movement he couldn’t see. Though his face was pressed comfortably into a cooling eucalyptus pillowcase and his belly rested against his firm modern mattress with a two-inch memory foam topper, his six-hundred-year-old soldier’s instincts sounded the alarm. He knew, with senses that had been forged in the muck and cold and the dark of the pre-dawn battle, that someone was moving in the dark behind him.

He tensed, ready to spring into action, ready for whatever assault—

A small, sad huff sounded from somewhere close to his arse.

“Forgive me,” his stranger’s voice said. “I did not mean to wake you.”

Very close to his arse, actually. The words ghosted across the skin of his upper thighs, sending a whole new kind of tension through his body. Hob craned his neck to look behind him, squinting in the early morning shadows.

Dream’s head was nearly laying on his left arse cheek. One hand hovered over the back of Hob’s right thigh, as if trying to see how close he could get without touching skin. Except for his words, Dream appeared to have frozen.

“Dream?”

Dream finally moved, turning his head to look up at Hob. (A few strands of hair tickled Hob’s cheek deliciously.) Dream squirmed till his face rested on the bed beside Hob’s leg. He withdrew his hand and cradled it close to his chest as if he had to physically stop himself from reaching out again. “I…”

Hob grinned as his thoughts slid back from alarm and into fuzzy morning comfort. “See something you like?”

“The…” Dream’s gaze flicked back to Hob’s legs. “You have a pleasing… texture.”

“Do I?” Hob’s turned onto his side so he could meet Dream’s eye with less contortion.

After the disorienting awakening, memory of the night before was streaming back clear as day. They’d fallen fast and hungrily into bed. Dream had pulled Hob to him as if he hadn’t touched another living body in an age, and Hob had obliged. Their night had been fevered and rough, and Hob could feel the soreness and marks he would cherish long as they lasted — and longer still in memory. They had devoured each other like starving men, satisfying themselves, but not savoring.

Now, Dream’s gaze was slow and wide-eyed as it raked Hob’s body. Or, rather, some very specific parts of his body. Hob sat up and Dream’s eyes flicked up to him again, before roving back to his lap with such open curiosity and hunger as to make Hob blush. But Dream wasn’t looking at Hob’s already hard cock, but at the lengths of his legs, now folded in front of him. Dream’s hand jerked slightly, but he still held it back. He turned his face further into the bed, though his gaze roved sideways, still staring.

Hob took Dream’s hand. He brought close to his own thigh, letting it hover over the skin without forcing contact. Dream extended his fingers.

It took a full six hundred years of learned restraint for Hob not to jerk as that long, narrow hand feathered over his skin, just barely petting the dark hairs that decorated his legs. A heavy breath fell from Hob’s lips. Dream’s gaze flicked to his with the ghost of a smile, and Hob decided not to stifle the light moan that rose in his throat as Dream’s hand lightly stroked his thigh — just the right side of ticklish.

Hob knew he had a bit of a pelt. At various points in time, as history rode the manscaping trends up and down, he’d been mildly self conscious of it. But, last night, he hadn’t thought of it at all; he’d observed Dream’s smooth skin, but his attention had been more thoroughly captured by the slender muscles which moved on Hob with impossible strength and the burning hunger that consumed them both.

If he’d had more time to consider their relative harriness, he might have wondered if Dream were put off by the rough appearance Hob had been hiding under his neat modern attire.

“I’m not half bear, I promise,” Hob said.

Dream pressed his fingers into Hob’s thigh and made a long, almost obscene noise of pleasure deep in his throat. He sat up, and moved both his hands to the sides of Hob’s legs, stroking up almost to his arse.

“It is…” Dreams eyebrows contracted. “Rough… but soft.”

He looked up at Hob as if he could explain this contradictory physical sensation. He could not, but he knew the particular pleasure of it. Hob was not the only harry man who’d ever been in his bed. He was a bit furrier than most, but he’d occasionally known the pleasure of a good pelt sliding scratchy-soft against bare skin. He shot a mischievous grin at his beautiful, enamoured stranger.

“You can ride them if you wish.”

Dream’s breath caught and his hands dug into Hob’s thighs and his eyes flashed with a shadow of last night’s ravenous hunger. Hob drew him into his lap, and as they shifted, Dream slid his bare skin against Hob’s legs and pressed his chest close to the softness there. And as Hob wrapped his arms around him, he felt Dream’s slender chest heave with a deep sigh of contentment.

#ferdie friday #Ferdinand Kingsley #Sandman #Dream of the Endless #Hob Gadling #Dreamling #fanfic #fanfiction #silo #silo apple tv #gratuitously misusing apple's intellectual property for Sandman purposes #my fanfic

293 notes · View notes

aegor-bamfsteel · 2 months

Note

In a sense, would you consider Theon Greyjoy to be Ned Stark’s son, as Jon Snow (despite his true heritage) very much is?

Well, let’s ask Theon, before his imprisonment by Ramsay:

Theon held his tongue, though not without struggle. So that is the way of it, he thought. As if ten years in Winterfell could make a Stark. Lord Eddard had raised him among his own children, but Theon had never been one of them. The whole castle, from Lady Stark to the lowliest kitchen scullion, knew he was hostage to his father's good behavior, and treated him accordingly. Even the bastard Jon Snow had been accorded more honor than he had.

Lord Eddard had tried to play the father from time to time, but to Theon he had always remained the man who'd brought blood and fire to Pyke and taken him from his home. As a boy, he had lived in fear of Stark's stern face and great dark sword. His wife was, if anything, even more distant and suspicious.

"I forget nothing." Ned Stark had killed neither of his brothers, in truth. Rodrik had been slain by Lord Jason Mallister at Seagard, Maron crushed in the collapse of the old south tower . . . but Stark would have done for them just as quick had the tide of battle chanced to sweep them together. —Theon I, ACOK

Theon thought of seeking out the bodies of the two men he'd slain himself to see if they had any jewelry worth the taking, but the notion left a bitter taste in his mouth. He could imagine what Eddard Stark would have said. Yet that thought made him angry too. Stark is dead and rotting, and naught to me, he reminded himself. Ugly as it was, that smile brought back a hundred memories. Theon had seen it often as a boy, when he'd jumped a horse over a mossy wall, or flung an axe and split a target square. He'd seen it when he blocked a blow from Dagmer's sword, when he put an arrow through a seagull on the wing, when he took the tiller in hand and guided a longship safely through a snarl of foaming rocks. He gave me more smiles than my father and Eddard Stark together. —Theon III, ACOK

"This is craven," Ser Rodrik said. "To use a child so . . . this is despicable." "Oh, I know," said Theon. "It's a dish I tasted myself, or have you forgotten? I was ten when I was taken from my father's house, to make certain he would raise no more rebellions."

The noose I wore was not made of hempen rope, that's true enough, but I felt it all the same. And it chafed, Ser Rodrik. It chafed me raw." He had never quite realized that until now, but as the words came spilling out he saw the truth of them. —Theon VI, ACOK

And after his torture:

But if anyone spoke of him now, it was as Theon Turncloak, and the tales they told were of his treachery. This was never my home. I was a hostage here. Lord Stark had not treated him cruelly, but the long steel shadow of his greatsword had always been between them. He was kind to me, but never warm. He knew that one day he might need to put me to death. —The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

The old gods, he thought. They know me. They know my name. I was Theon of House Greyjoy. I was a ward of Eddard Stark, a friend and brother to his children. "Please." He fell to his knees. "A sword, that's all I ask. Let me die as Theon, not as Reek." Tears trickled down his cheeks, impossibly warm. "I was ironborn. A son … a son of Pyke, of the islands." —A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

It’s true that his feelings toward Ned had softened by ADWD (which makes sense, given what he’s been through with Ramsay), but despite that there’s a common theme that Ned was always cold and distant, never affectionate, because everyone knew Theon was a hostage for Balon’s good behavior, and Ned would’ve had to execute him had he rebelled again. There was really no way that Ned and Theon could’ve developed the positive relationship that Ned and Jon did (despite the shadow of Jon’s mother between them, Jon looks up to Ned and wants to make him proud) given that history. He may have called him a “second father” in swearing his oath to Robb, but neither Balon nor Ned were true father figures to Theon, so he considers Cleftjaw his “uncle” (the man who gave him affection as a child). Ned considered Jon Arryn a second father, as Quentyn did Lord Yronwood, but neither had Theon’s history as a hostage against their birth family.

Now, Theon doesn’t have the same baggage with Ned’s kids as with the man himself. He saved Bran and fought alongside Robb (who in his first chapter admits to having affection for, “as for a little brother”), so it makes sense a regretful Theon would think of himself as their friend and brother. But he’d never think of Ned as his “true father” (another example of the show misunderstanding his character).

#ask #opinion #theon greyjoy #asoiaf #eddard stark critical

41 notes · View notes

nasa · 2 years

Text

NASA Photographers Share Their #NASAMoonSnap

We’re getting ready to launch Artemis I, the first test flight of the rocket and spacecraft that will take future astronauts to the Moon! As we prepare for the lunar voyage of the Space Launch System (SLS) rocket and Orion spacecraft launching as early as Aug. 29, 2022, we would like you to share your excitement with us. Share all types of Moon-inspired content with us with the hashtag #NASAMoonSnap, and we will choose some entries to share on our social media platforms and during the launch broadcast. Get creative! We’re looking for Moon paintings, Moon poetry, Moon pottery, Moon latte foam art — the sky is not the limit.

Since we have the full Moon coming up on Aug. 11, we wanted to share our handy dandy Moon photography guide and inspire you with some of our NASA imagery experts’ stories on capturing the Moon.

"The first rollout of the SLS rocket with the Orion spacecraft aboard was a really exciting moment to capture. I was photographing at Kennedy Space Center in an area where many of the employees that had worked on different parts of the SLS were watching. It was so great to hear some of their stories and see their pride in helping to build this amazing rocket and spacecraft. Once the mobile launcher with SLS passed the crowds to head toward the launchpad, people began to line up in their cars to leave. I decided to stick around and try to get a closer image of the Moon with SLS. It was fairly dark by the time I made this image, so there isn’t any detail in the moon, but it’s still moving to see them next to one another and know that SLS will be closer to the Moon than Earth very soon, and will one day enable humans to land on the lunar surface again!" — Aubrey Gemignani, NASA contract Photo Archivist/Photographer, NASA Headquarters

“I set up this shot when I saw the Moon was lined up perfectly with the X-1E in front of the main entrance to Armstrong Flight Research Center one morning last year. What captured my eye about this scene was that it showcased the past and the future of NASA in one image. The X-1 was a key piece of early NACA/NASA history, and it is pointing to the Moon showing us where we are going next with Artemis. I still remember walking around on my first day at NASA and seeing all the places where history was made. I was in awe as I walked these hallowed grounds. I know that there is still a great deal of history to be written here as we strive to go higher, further and faster and I’m glad that I get to be here to document it.” — Joshua Fisher, Photographer, NASA’s Armstrong Flight Research Center

“While out capturing images of the Moon, the memories of my first day as a photographer for NASA came flooding back. One of my first memories is going to the exhibits department and getting to hold an actual Moon rock sample. That day changed my perception of the Moon forever. That moment made the Moon more than just something in the sky. It became tangible and real, and my part in all of this became clear. The honor and privilege I feel everyday is overwhelming.” — Jef Janis, Still Imaging Specialist, NASA’s Glenn Research Center

“When I can, I like my Moon photos to have a sense of place. The trick is finding a shooting position and a landmark that will fit in with the Moon’s very stringent plans for rising. I went out to shoot the Sturgeon Moon, which was also a rare blue moon, last August. As I was shooting the moonrise from the riverbank in downtown New Orleans, I was lucky to have one of the city’s iconic riverboats turn a bend and head upriver to pass beneath the Moon. Happily the river was low and I was able to scramble down the high bank to reduce the vertical distance between the quickly rising moon and the slowly passing riverboat.” — Michael DeMocker, Photographer, NASA’s Michoud Assembly Facility

“I was excited to try to capture a waning crescent Moon at dawn, even though it was late February, 20 degrees Fahrenheit and 6:30 in the morning…Nonetheless, I decided to photograph on-site at Lewis Field, and ended up using my telephoto lens to really zoom in on the Moon. In a race against the sunrise and the Moon disappearing, I was able to capture a cool shot of the Moon with a couple planes making an appearance as well (The Cleveland Hopkins Airport is right next door). Although is it me, or does one of the planes look like a rocket taking off…?” — Jordan Salkin, Scientific Imaging Specialist, NASA’s Glenn Research Center

“I have worked at NASA’s Glenn Research Center since 1990 and have enjoyed every second doing what I do to support NASA’s mission. On my first day back to work onsite after 22 months of telework I saw this beautiful sunrise with the snow, the Moon, and the hangar. It felt good to be at work seeing the landscape I was so used to seeing. I had to take these pictures to share with my colleagues. ” — Jeffrey F. Abbott, Media Support Specialist, NASA’s Glenn Research Center 

“In creating this Moon image, I almost felt pressured to find the ‘perfect location.’ The more that I thought about that prospect, the more I was drawn to using only natural elements, in my own environment. I wanted to find an image in my own backyard. This image was captured just as the Sun dropped below the horizon. I had a very short window of time when these colors would be possible. Two minutes earlier or later would have produced a totally different image. The almost abstract lines of a Maple tree in the earliest stages of budding seemed to be in concert with the waxing crescent Moon, both preparing for full bloom. Nature on display in its simplicity.” — Marvin Smith, Still Imaging Specialist Lead, NASA’s Glenn Research Center

“The lighthouse in Lorain, Ohio, has been photographed by amateur and professional photographers for decades, but I have never photographed it before. When I calculated that the path of the Moon was going to go over and past the lighthouse with a reflection over the water, I decided to give it a try. I encountered four other photographers on the same pier with me that early morning. They were huddled in the middle of the pier and I was at the end. I think I got the best photo.” — Quentin Schwinn, Scientific Photographer, NASA’s Glenn Research Center

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#NASA #NASA MoonSnap #Moon #Moon photography #space photography #Artemis #mega Moon rocket #photography #full Moon #lunar #Orion #Space Launch System #space #astronomy #nature photography

1K notes · View notes

konata-izumi-kinny-writes · 1 year

Text

Rescue Bots x Reader romantic hcs

Seperate

[A/n: I know its weird that i like these four. Shish.]

Anyways here yall go.

Heatwave

Beeg frumpy man

Literally just picked you up and said, "I love you. You're mine now." And walked off with you

Hes a tsundere at first but grows softer the longer you're with him.

Fr he needs someone who'll listen to him rant or smth without making fun of him

Give this big boi a hug

He'll be confused, but he'll grow to like it

Kiss the big man.

He got BIG soft lips, well, big compared to you but you get the point.

You may be wondering how the flip they're soft.

The answer is, 'a flip ton of bendy cords and fuel lines layered with some memory foam and waterproof carbon fiber cloth' (same goes for the others)

Another thing you can do is pepper his face plates with kisses

Automatically starts blushing.

VERY protective and lowkey jealous

He carries you around like a baby. Theres no reason for it, thats just what he does. If Kade has any snarky remarks to say about it, you bet Heatwave is gonna clap back with something better.

Treats you like glass.

You're just so teeny tiny compared to him and he doesn't want to hurt you.

He'll feel absolutely terrible if he does.

Despite all of that though, he does generally treat you like a normal person. As well as letting you have your own life.

Do NOT make self deprivating jokes around this dude. For multiple reasons.

1, they make him stressed and sad (he won't admit that hes sad in front of the others tho)

2, It automatically triggers him to be even MORE protective

3, Heatwave will aggressively tell you how much he loves you and how pretty/handsome you are

For example,

'*Squishes your face with his fingers*, "Shush. You're fragging amazing. Say anything like that again, and i'm snuggling you for the entire godamn day."'

He doesn't yell at you though. Just has an aggressive tone.

He does the same for any insecurities you have too.

Oh, and he means every word he says when it comes to his bellicose praises.

"...I warned you, Dear."

*proceeds to pick you up in his hands and lay down somewhere while holding you against his chassis*

LOTS of kisses. Like for real you'll be out of breath when he's done with you.

It doesn't end there either.

He sometimes puts you in the passenger seat if there's an emergency so he can still keep an eye on you.

Depends on the emergency

He gets angrier than usual if you're the one in danger, he only calms down once you're safe.

Chase

He loves and supports you so much aaa-

He was VERY blunt when he confessed to you

"(Name). Forgive me for saying but I have fallen in love with you, and wish for you to be my conjunx endura. You don't have to feel the same, but you have the right to know."

He was lowkey surprised when you said you felt the same

Chase proceeded to kneel down and pull you into a hug. You responded with hugging him back along with a kiss on the faceplates, the rest is history.

He loves any kind of affection you give him, just don't use sarcasm, he can't pick up on it.

His love language is usually physical touch, words of affirmation, and quality time

Chase only wants three things from you throughout this relationship.

Your happiness, your affection, and your safety.

Though he does want to keep you safe he's not really overprotective.

He insists on carrying you if you're somewhere where one of them could step on you.

You used to go on patrol with him...

Until you almost got merc'd by a haywire lawn mower.

Since then you stay at base, and he always looks forward to seeing you run up to him when he gets back.

Hes not a fan of scary movies, but he'll be fine if you're holding his hand or hugging him.

Bring an inhaler, you'll need it for how much he'll make you laugh

At this point he's still trying to learn human culture... that (un)fortunately includes slang

"(Name), look. I have acquired an 'annelid on a string'"

"Dearest conjunx, what is 'Goated with the sauce' and why does a caprine have a condiment?"

"(Name), what does it mean to 'simp' for someone?"

Whether you feed this fire or not is up to you.

Pet names include; Dearest, Honey, Love, My Light, My Conjunx Endura, ....scrinkle (I'm not sorry)

Despite the mixups with slang, hes still pretty damn blunt.

Not to mention, even with how monotonous Chase is pretty romantic when hes talking to you.

This means that you can tell that he's being honest whenever he starts whispering sweet nothings to you.

And Chase mean everything he says.

And he always looks you in the eyes when he says one specific line, just so you know he really means it.

"I love you"

Blades

Oml hes so friggin nervous.

He didn't confess to you... Kade did

He heard Blades talking to Dani about you so he decided to mess with him.

"HEY (NAME), BLADES TOTALLY HAS A HUGE CRUSH ON YOU!!"

"NO I DON'T, SHISH!!!"

He only admitted it once you said you felt the same

"...you do!? This isn't a cruel joke right?... I.. love you too."

He leaned down and gave you a kiss on the forehead

HES SO SWEET TO YOU

Lots of snuggles, hand holding, kisses, hugs, carrying you around, you name it!

Flip, he loves touching you in general.

You're just so squishy compared to his kind, he can't help but be enamored

Big touch-starved snugglebug

He likes watching tv with you on his chest

Sometimes the baking shows he comes across motivate him to bake something for you.

Half the time its good, half the time it isn't.

Pet names are; Sweetie, Honey Bunny, Cupcake, Lil Squisha, and My Spark if he's feeling really romantic

Don't yell at him please :(

He will be more anxious and sad if you do.

Its enough from others, it hurts more if its from you.

Unless you're happy and excited. He'll be yelling with you.

Very protective and jealous

He isn't too overbearing with it though

Hes just nervous and scared

Nervous about something/someone hurting you, and scared that someone will take you from him.

Thats why he doesn't take you with him on missions, even with how much he misses you.

Please comfort him when hes scared, he REALLY needs it.

Blades loves your laugh so much

He'll find the cheesiest jokes to say just to get the smallest noise out of you.

He'll be very impressed with whatever talent you have, and will try his best to support you.

KISS THE BEEG NERVOUS BOIBOI

He needs it... badly.

Will immediately turn blue and get extremely flustered, but he loves it and won't stop you

He gives you little trinkets he finds at random... well, they're little to him.

"Y/N! I got something for you :3" *Proceeds to place the biggest tumbleweed you've ever seen right in front of you*

Sometimes, Blades legit out of nowhere picks you and and carries you somewhere where nobody else is around

He proceeds to lay down and put you on his chest

Totally peppers your face in kisses before looking you right in your eyes and saying how much he loves you.

"I love you so much, Honey bunny. You're my little cupcake and i won't give you up for anything or anyone. I promise."

Boulder

Hes so sweet to you

It took some encouragement and advice from Gram for him to confess to you, but he did it!

He went out and picked a bouquet for you too

He sat down criss cross applesauce and told you how he felt after taking a deep breath.

"(Name)... I have.. developed some strong feelings for you.. romantic ones. You don't have to say yes, but i still want to ask.. will you please be my love for life?"

You of course said yes and gave him a hug before he could even give you your bouquet

He closed his eyes and returned the hug, all the while rubbing your back.

Dates at the zoo are a must. Obviously. Like cmon now. This is Boulder we're talking about.

Will bring you random plants and animals and ask if he can keep them

If not that, then he'll pick flowers and other plants for you. Ofc he makes sure theyre not spiky.

He paints for you.

GIVE HIM SMOOCHES

Theres nothing he loves more than your lips

Well- he loves your tummy too.

Its a tie

ANYWAYS-

SNUGGLE THE BIG HIMBO HE NEEDS IT

(They all do but you get the point)

Like Heatwave, he carries you like a baby. But he just does it because he thinks you're cute.

Like for real, to Boulder, you're the cutest little fleshy he's ever seen.

Until he sees a baby.

He looks at you with the most "🥺" expression ever

"[Name]-"

"No we're not having a baby, bubbas. Sorry"

"🥺"

His pet names for you are; Dearest, Bunny, My Flower, Small one, Sweetie, Dove, Angelfish, Wifey/Hubby/Lovey (whichever you prefer or identify as)

He loves you, but no. You can't go w him on emergencies.

Literally on the verge of tears if you're the one in danger

If that happens, prepare to be snuggled for 3 days straight.

#rescue bots x reader #heatwave x reader #chase x reader #boulder x reader #Blades x reader #konata izumi kin writes #transformers x reader #this is cringy

416 notes · View notes

gallifreyanhotfive · 5 days

Text

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 57: Gallifrey at War Part 8

Normal TWs for these parts apply: for war, death, injury, disturbing behavior

The Gramoryans were paradox eaters that used to be monitored by the Time Lords but began to run amok after the Last Great Time War. They collected important historical people and kill those who they deemed insignificant. They were attracted to Tudor Era England when the Monk disguised himself as King Henry VIII. (Audio: Divorced, Beheaded, Regenerated)

Paradox anxiety refers to the fear of falling under the influence of the Faction Paradox if someone caused a paradox. In more extreme cases, people might believe they had already caused a paradox and were thus already under Faction Paradox control. (Novel: The Book of War)

While not a declared "war" that Gallifrey took part in, the Quantum Archangel was created by fusing a human with the energy of the Lux Aeterna, the quantum foam making up reality. This resulted from the Master trying to use a TITAN Array to rejuvenate his body and destroy the Chronovores. The Quantum Archangel became basically an omnipotent goddess with the ability to create pocket universes and rewrite history. She intended to get rid of suffering by putting everyone in their own individual pocket universes and letting them live their best lives possible. (Novel: The Quantum Archangel)

The Quantum Archangel did not realize that the Chronovores would start to eat the small alternate timelines she had been creating. The perfect universes collapsed into nightmarish versions. (Novel: The Quantum Archangel)

To fight the Quantum Archangel, the Sixth Doctor bathed in the Lux Aeterna himself to get the same powers. He went to the higher dimensions and tried to make her see reason. This failed, so the two of them did battle on a truly cosmic scale, using entire suns and planets as weapons. The Doctor in his godly form and Kronos managed to revert the Quantum Archangel back into her human form (Novel: The Quantum Archangel)

The Ninth Doctor told Rose he was 900 years old because during the Last Great Time War, such as during the Battle of Rodan's Wedding, years became ammunition. The Doctor could remember being aged to five million years old when hit by one volley of shrapnel and then being de-aged to a baby by the next. Because of this mess, the Doctor could not be sure of his exact age but decided that he "felt" about a thousand years old, which he rounded to 900. (Short story: Doctor Who and the Time War) If you recall from TV: The Invasion of Time, Rodan was a Gallifreyan who was responsible for maintaining the transduction barrier.

The Bygone Horde was made up of all the species that had been erased from existence during the Last Great Time War, surviving only as a memory. They planned on returning to existence using the sacrifice of the human race, but the Ninth Doctor and Adam Mitchell stopped them. (Audio: The Other Side)

Ollistra attached an artron leash to the War Doctor, thus linking him to herself. These artron leashes were made by Gallifrey and forced the person on the receiving end - in this case the War Doctor - to stay close to the other. If they moved too far away, they would be given an intense electric shock. (Audio: A Thing of Guile)

The Fifth Doctor was forced to lead a military campaign against Morbius during the Civil War. He took on the alias the Supreme Coordinator (or the Supremo) and led a large army composed of Ice Warriors, Draconians, Sontarans, Ogrons, and Cybermen. The Daleks were not part of this Alliance, but the Doctor had a nightmare where they offered to help. (Novel: Warmonger)

The Ogrons had been the Doctor's bodyguards in this time in order to avoid jealousy that choosing one of the other species would have caused. (Novel: Warmonger)

Peri Brown had become a guerilla leader on Sylvana after the Doctor had sent her away to heal from a serious injury. She only met back up with the Doctor after he became general of his massive army. (Novel: Warmonger)

The Supreme Coordinator had such a big impact on those in his command that the Sontaran Battle Major Streg sacrificed himself to save the Supremo in battle. His last words were ones of thanks to the Supremo for giving him a glorious death in a legendary battle. (Novel: Warmonger)

An additional Time War was averted during the Eleventh Doctor's era. This clearly caused the Doctor a lot of distress, causing him to break down alone in his TARDIS and speak about how he didn't want to be a Warrior again. (Audio: Daleks Victorious)

A predicted timeline of this averted Time War suggested by a sentient Dalek time machine (named Tim) stated that the best end to this war (and the way to destroy the Daleks) would involve Valarie going back in time and changing her own personal history. Even in this best case scenario, however, the Time War would last billions of years and result in the Doctor’s death. (Audio: The Last Stand of Miss Valarie Lockwood)

The Loomstacks on Gallifrey 8 became so overworked during the War in Heaven that thick black smoke blocked out the sun over the Capitol. To create more troops for the War, Gallifrey would incinerate their dead soldiers, break their bodies into raw fabric, and reweave them into brand new troops. (Novel: The Taking of Planet 5)

First 1 Prev 56 Next 58

25 notes · View notes

warrioreowynofrohan · 2 months

Text

Silmarillion Daily - Of Menegroth

Today’s Silmarillion Daily contains two events - one is the building/carving of Menegroth and the other, happening around the same time in Valinor, is the births of Turgon and Finrod.

Here’s the part on Menegroth:

Now Melian had much foresight, after the manner of the Maiar; and when the second age of the captivity of Melkor had passed, she counselled Thingol that the Peace of Arda would not last forever. He took thought therefore how he should make for himself a kingly dwelling, and a place that should be strong, if evil were to awake again in Middle-earth; and he sought aid and counsel of the Dwarves of Belegost. They gave it willingly, for they were unwearied in those days and eager for new works; and though the Dwarves ever demanded a price for all that the did, whether with delight or with toil, at this time they held themselves paid. For Melian taught them much that they were eager to learn, and Thingol rewarded them with many fair pearls. These Círdan gave to him, for they were got in great number in the shallow waters about the Isle of Balar; but the Naugrim had not before seen their like, and they held them dear. One there was as great as a dove’s egg, and its sheen was as starlight on the foam of the sea; Nimphelos it is named, and the chieftain of the Dwarves of Belegost prized it above a mountain of wealth.

Therefore the Naugrim laboured long and gladly for Thingol, and devised for him mansions after the fashion of their people, delved deep in the earth. Where the Esgalduin flowed down, and parted Neldoreth from Region, there rose in the midst of the forest a rocky hill, and the river ran at its feet, There they made the gates of the hall of Thingol, and they built a bridge of stone over the river, by which alone the gates could be entered. Beyond the gates wide passages ran down to high halls and chambers far below that were hewn in the living stone, so many and so great that that dwelling was named Menegroth, the Thousand Caves.

But the Elves also had part in that labour, and Elves and Dwarves together, each with their own skill, there wrought out the visions of Melian, images of the wonder and beauty of Valinor beyond the Sea. The pillars of Menegroth were hewn in the lines of the beeches of Oromë, stock, bough, and leaf, and they were lit with lanterns of gold. The nightingales sang there as in the gardens of Lórien; and there were fountains of silver, and basins of marble, and floors of many-coloured stones. Carven figures of beasts and birds there ran upon the walls, or climbed upon the pillars, or peered among the branches entwined with many flowers. And as the years passed Melian and her maidens filled the halls with woven hangings wherein could be read the deeds of the Valar, and many things that had befallen in Arda since its beginning, and shadows of things that were yet to be. That was the fairest dwelling of any king that has ever been east of the Sea.

And when the building of Menegroth was achieved, and there was peace in the realm of Thingol and Melian, the Naugrim yet came ever and anon over the mountains and went in traffic about the lands; but they went seldom to the Falas, for they hated the sound of the sea and feared to look upon it. To Beleriand there came no other rumour or tidings of the world without.

There’s another tidbit about Menegroth in History of Middle-earth (The Peoples of Middle-earth, “The problem of Ros”):

…the great Hall of the Throne of Elwë in the midst of his stronghold of Menegroth…was called the Menelrond [heaven-dome], because by the arts and aid of Melian its high arched roof had been adorned with silver and gems set in the order and figures of the stars in the great Dome of Valmar in Aman, whence Melian came.

The section further states that Elwing named Elrond in memory of this place, and that this was held to be prophetic, as it foreshadowed Elrond choosing the kindred of the Eldar and “carrying on the lineage of King Elwë [Footnote: Also also that of Turgon; though he oreferred that of Elwë, who was not under the ban that was laid on the Exiles.]”, while Elros, named for water, crossed the seas and became King of Númenor.

I feel like Menegroth in the passage above comes about as close as anything else we see to Eru’s ideal for the Ainur and the Eruhíni: dwarves and elves and a Maia all working together in Middle-earth to make something beautiful with their different skills and knowledge. The decision to do it in incited by the awareness of danger, but that leads not to hostility but to cooperation and beauty. It’s not in Valinor, but it recalls much of Valinor and of the Valar: the carvings of trees and woodland creatures recall the forests of Oromë, the nightingales the gardens of Lórien, the tapestries of history (and visions of the future) the halls of Vairë and Mandos. Different peoples get a glimpse of things they don’t fully understand, but are drawn to: the dwarves can’t stand the sea, but they nonetheless love Círdan’s pearls.

This is what makes the way Menegroth ends such an absolute tragedy, and it is what makes Legolas and Gimli in The Lord of the Rings the redress of that tragedy: their visits to Aglarond and Fangorn, each understanding what the other loves, is a kind of echo of the unity of these caverns carved with trees and forest-creatures. They’re putting things right. (As, in a different way, Galadriel is putting Fëanor’s story right, and Elrond is putting Thingol’s specifically right.) Not putting things back exactly as they were, but healing them.

#i feel like this passage gets so overlooked #because “of the sindar” is a big flashback dropped in the middle of the return of the noldor #i like being able to see these sections in their chronological place #silmarillion daily #the silmarillion #tolkien #the lord of the rings #thingol #melian #dwarves #legolas #gimli #doriath

42 notes · View notes