hi im ari, she/they, late 20s ! queer. lives in the US
🔅 i reblog way more than i post (see tag me.txt) & mostly about
lord of the rings (esp fanart, also meta, memes, my beloved line of elendil, also positive(!) things about the rings of power show)
theater ! of all kinds but often musical or shakespeare
cats (the animal not the musical. my cats name is sooka & she’s my best friend)
art in general incl comics & fashion
generally memes, jokes, social commentary type posts if i like em idk
sometimes star wars, that comes in phases
also sometimes film which i am a fake fan of (have a masters degree but tbh know like 5 things)
lately (mid 2026 in case i forget to update this) ive been on a real ancient rome kick out of fucking nowhere
and other stuff as I watch a new show or whatever!
🔅 I’m also a biggg fan of ao3/fanfic in general!!! perhaps one day i will make a second go at my phd in reader insert smut (which is not even what i usually read!)
to that point my ao3 & also former url on here is bellejolras (i am & always will be a les mis girlie). beware though i have mostly written porn & expect to continue lol
also i love playing with blorbos like dolls to smash together 100% of the time, shipping is fun and not that serious to me
🔅I co-mod a few discords mostly about lotr (The Last Homely Server for general fan content making/discussing, @tolkienpinupcalendar for freak4freak shit, and one that’s basically a group chat with channels for my approx. 5 friends who want to talk about isildur & generally the numenor parts of ROP)
🔅new friends are welcome to join on discord!! hmu all w good vibes are welcome (and moots on other sites as well)
um um what else
🔅Oh yea my inbox/messaging settings are kinda restricted bc bots but if you’re a real human then PLEASE feel free to pop in any time to chat !!! always down to play ask games/tag games/etc, i am here to yap & to make friends!!!
we talk about how cis people are just handed a gender and accept it without thought but I think what we fail to mention is that the same happens with sexuality
this extends beyond the bounds of simple heterosexuality. it's also about being told that you enjoy skinny white cis women with button noses and straight hair and no stretch marks and no cellulite etc. lotta gay people never let go of that one!
Why is there a diarrhea parasite outbreak in America?
Because Donald Trump and his Republican allies cut funding to disease prevention and control.
Why is measles back in America?
Because Donald Trump and his Republican allies, including RFK Jr, cut vaccine and measles prevention funding and programs.
Why is the New World Screwworm infecting cattle in Texas, when it had previously been eliminated from the area?
Because Donald Trump and his Republican allies, including Elon Musk, cut USAID funding, which in part worked to monitor and prevent screwworm outbreaks.
Why was there a flu outbreak in our armed forces?
Because Donald Trump and his Republican allies, including Pete Hegseth, cut vaccination requirements for our armed forces, putting all of them at risk alongside our military readiness.
What contributed to the Covid outbreak?
Donald Trump and his Republican allies cut funding to a pandemic prevention program in his first term because Barack Obama had created it.
“America first” sends its regards. Trump voters, please learn your lesson. And if you don’t, it’ll be taught to you again with yet another diarrhea outbreak.
The death of credible government is darkly hilarious in a cosmic sort of way. Obviously, the FDA is useless now. Therefore, we must place our trust in more credible institutions, such as Taco Bell, which has been far more transparent and proactive in handling this parasite business.
Mirdania is halfway home, her muscles weary from another long day trying to make the Nine, when she hears her name being called.
She closes her eyes for a moment, gathering what remains of her patience. It was a trying day in the forge, not least because of Celebrimbor’s ever shortening temper. All she wants to do now is lie down in her bed with a bottle of wine and not talk to anyone until tomorrow when she has to do it all over again. She tries to remind herself that whoever is hailing her likely wants to do the same thing, so she forces an accommodating look on her face and turns to meet her accoster.
It is Melethor, one of the newer members of their order and easily the most forgetful. She can already tell by the bashful look on his face that he has some favor to ask, and she instantly wishes she had kept walking.
“Forgive me,” he says, cheeks flushed, “but I realized I forgot to douse the fires before I left for the night.”
She bites back her impatience and says, as gently as possible, which is to say, not very, “Alright…well, why can’t you go back and douse them now?”
His flush grows. “Well, it’s just Lord Celebrimbor in his study now, and he’s been…you know…”
She does know, and as irritated as she is with Melethor, she knows she can hardly blame him for being afraid to upset her cousin. She heaves a sigh, already turning back for the forge. “Very well.”
“I’m sorry, Mirdania…I’ll make it up to you!”
She very much doubts that, but manages to toss a, “Never mind that,” over her shoulder before she leaves him behind. It’s her own fault, really; she should have stayed behind until the others were gone. But she, like the rest of the smiths, was eager to leave Celebrimbor to his bad mood. She only hopes he’s in a better one when she gets back to the forge, or at the very least, doesn’t notice her come in.
For a moment, it seems like it might be the latter when she lets herself into the workshop. Celebrimbor must be in his study; she can hear noises and assumes, at first, he’s talking to himself; but then she hears another voice, low and light, and realizes that Annatar is with him. She abandons the fires, creeping quietly across the workshop to listen at the stairs.
“But you aren’t listening to me!” Celebrimbor insists, and he doesn’t sound angry at all, not like he did earlier; he sounds desperate, pleading.
“No, you are not listening to me,” Annatar says, and that surprises her, the firmness with which he talks to the Greatest of Elven Smiths. He says something else, his voice growing softer, and then there is a noise as though furniture has collided. Mirdania creeps up the stairs, straining her ears for signs of an altercation.
She hears the soft, wet sounds at the same time she sees them: Celebrimbor, braced against the table, and Annatar, on his knees, head buried beneath Celebrimbor’s robes.
Blood rushes to her face and neck. She’s interrupted something, something that may have been going on for a long time–
And yet.
She cannot look away. She has never seen such ecstasy on Celebrimbor’s face - nor on anyone’s, for that matter. The heat in her neck spreads down her chest and spine, pooling low in her belly as she watches Celebrimbor sink his fingers into the silken expanse of Annatar’s hair. Annatar’s own fingers are wrapped tight around Celebrimbor’s hip, anchoring him against the table as his head bobs up and down.
She ought to leave. It isn’t appropriate, to sit and ogle like this, and neither Celebrimbor nor Annatar would appreciate her lurking. She tenses as though to leave, but finds herself rooted fast to the stairs when she sees Annatar pull back, lips wet and eyes fixed on Celebrimbor.
“On your back,” he commands, spit dribbling from his lips, the slick words sending a thrill down Mirdania’s spine. She grips the edge of the platform, watching as Celebrimbor lies back on the table, his robes rucked up around his thighs. Annatar slips out of his own robes, so fluidly she almost doesn’t see how he does it.
Mirdania has never dared to imagine what the Maia would look like naked, afraid, somehow, that he could read her mind. She knows he has muscles, his tunic stretching taut against his arms and even the leather of his smith’s apron doing little to conceal the ridges of his abdomen. She knows, too, that Halbrand bore a scar when he came back to the city. When Annatar disrobes, the muscles she cannot help but notice are there, corded along the same paths as Halbrand’s; the scar, however, is not. His back is a pale expanse of unmarred skin in the moonlight, his flesh curving into two half-moons above his legs.
But it is not the moons that fascinate Mirdania; it is the length of flesh that rises on the other side of his legs, or so it looks to her. He is stroking it with something from the table, some oily substance he poured on his hands, one hand wrapped around himself and the other—
She covers her mouth.
His other hand has two fingers hooked inside her cousin, lightly thrusting them in and out as Celebrimbor makes little mewling noises. When he’s satisfied, he pulls out his fingers and pushes himself between Celebrimbor’s thighs.
Celebrimbor cries out, legs spasming around Annatar’s waist. It is loud enough to hide Mirdania’s breathing, grown suddenly ragged.
Annatar murmurs something she cannot hear as he thrusts in and out of Celebrimbor, sweat beginning to bead and slide down his bare skin. She can’t hear all of it, but she does catch the word, “...good…”
It sends such a violent wave of need through her that she knows she has to leave, right then, or else she’s going to climb the rest of the stairs and make trouble for all of them. She sidles down the stairs, her thighs trembling, and manages to let herself out of the forge. Damn the fires; Celebrimbor and Annatar can see to them themselves.
It isn’t until she’s in her room that she lets herself jam a hand between her thighs, conjuring up the image of Annatar’s bare back, of his length pushing into Celebrimbor, of his murmuring, “good, good.” She turns her head, muffling her shout into the pillow.
.
No one says anything about the fires in the morning; in truth, Mirdania almost forgets until she sees Annatar brush past Celebrimbor, a hand on his back, and remembers the way he’d held him the night before. She turns away, blushing, and nearly drops her tongs.
As though summoned by thought, Annatar moves closer, inspecting her work. She squirms, thighs rubbing against one another.
“Is it…alright, my lord?” she asks uncertainly.
He turns his gaze to hers with a small smile. “Good,” he says, and she can feel the blood rush to her face. “Very good, Mirdania.”
one of my favorite this american life segments of late is about the people who played orchestra pit for phantom of the opera on broadway and how, like, a sizeable majority of them had literally been playing the show since it opened in 1988 (on broadway. I know it opened in 86 on the west end, you random pedants, but I am specifically talking about broadway musicians) because their contracts stipulated that they'd have jobs throughout the show's entire run... but nobody anticipated that phantom would become the longest-running broadway show of all time.
and none of these people wanted to walk away from a guaranteed job, so very few of them ever quit. they just kept doing the same show eight nights a week... for twenty or thirty years... and by the time it finally closed last year most of these musicians (who had been working together for DECADES) hated each other and really really fucking loathed phantom. I can't stop thinking about it. it's indescribably hellish to imagine but also the funniest thing I've ever heard in my life.
[ID: excerpt from an article reading: One of my favorite stories, which should drive anyone who has every played in a band crazy-- there’s this bassoon player who has sat next to the same clarinet player since 1988. She’s convinced he plays half a note4 flat on every note he’s every played. He denies this. /]
Context for anyone who is wondering: Lamine Yamal's parents won an UNICEF raffle for a charity photoshoot in which Barça players posed with kids, and 5 month old Lamine happened to get 20yo Messi. Which is like. Literally insane
common advice for social anxiety is to tell yourself "people aren't going to think less of you just because you said something a bit daft" but the thing is. sometimes they will. and you just have to learn to be cool with that and to treat it as a dnd random encounter rather than letting it ruin your whole day
recent example. lady at my careers appointment had a post-it with her name on it stuck to the monitor, so i introduced myself by saying "hello, i'm eliot! you must be [name], it's nice to meet you!" and she stared at me as if i was the stupidest person alive and said icily, "yeah, i'm [name]. congratulations, you can read."
in bygone times this would have reduced me to a sort of quivering blancmange. thankfully i am now in a place where i was able to pull back, calmly evaluate this interaction, and say to myself "this woman should probably not be working in a customer-facing job"
Zohran says NYC does not have legal authority to arrest Netanyahu (while we say, "Zohran said he'd arrest Netanyahu," what he did actually say is that he planned to explore his legal options). He said the federal government could arrest him. Which, I think we all assumed but know will not happen under Trump, who literally just defended Netanyahu when Zohran recently said he was looking into his authority to make that arrest.
My question is, what about the state of New York? What can Kathy do?
Someone just pointed out what the purpose was of him mentioning that the federal government can arrest Netanyahu was and isn't about Trump.
He's moving the goal post. What democratic leaders see now is their base is overwhelmingly against Israel and its genocide. It's why 103 of them just voted against sending Israel money and why they all know accepting AIPAC donations is disqualifying.
But now Mamdani has introduced a new question to potential 2028 democratic presidential candidates: "Will you commit to arresting Benjamin Netanyahu?"
dont worry, kid. just call me peaches @orbitingmypond - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
