#mid century modern has my heart.......

[evanpeters]

holy fuck roman’s apartment...................................

[nanamiskentos]

CHERI CHERI LADY — choso kamo minors dni

prologue. → its hard not to be endlessly fond of your sweet boyfriend. he's quiet, unassuming but sweet, oddly so for a half-curse. but god, you want to jump his bones so bad.

pairing. boyfriend!choso kamo x afab!reader

warnings+. nothing really wild, just soft and sweet sèx with choso. first times, kissing and making out, heaps of touching, mild awkwardness but its sincere, creàmpiè...? choso is lowkey a súb, but there's switch in him too. choso calls reader 'my lady' near the start. established but new relationship.

word count. 2.7k song inspiration. cheri cheri lady — modern talking (1985)

a/n. gifs look so ugly on mobile im maddddd i promise its hd on desktop 😓 choso is suchhh a cutie. but this is lowkey mid but im too tired 😭

mp3. cheri, cheri lady, living in devotion, it's always like the first time. let me take a part...

you've been running your fingers gently through choso's hair, the soft strands slipping between your fingers as his head rests on your lap. his feathery black locks fall loosely around his face, and he's quite a vision, sharp and sorrowful features framed with a rare and private softness.

but now choso shifts a bit, drawing in a slow breath and you catch a glimpse of those haunting hazel eyes ringed by dark shadows, and clearly something is on his mind. it's sweet, you think, how shy he is — how his gaze flickers away before he speaks.

its a soft murmur of your name, low and husky; clearly satisfised like a large cat curled up on your lap and it makes you laugh, pressing a breathy kiss to his warm temple.

"my lady..." and it is said so softly that you don't almost hear it, but the reverence in his tone makes your heart shake, and it bewilders you at how he's so capable of the gentlest violence that unravels you in such a tender way.

you pause, surprised by the sudden tenderness of his words. he’s usually reserved, even guarded while fond, but now, calling you his lady, there’s a vulnerability in his expression that feels like he’s handing you something precious. you smile gently, watching him with a quiet love that makes his face flush, the faintest hint of colour blooming under that dark mark across his nose.

"choso…" you say his name softly, running a hand through his hair once more.

he looks away, smiling a bit sheepishly, his rough, calloused hand reaching for yours and intertwining your fingers, though his grip remains gentle. he hesitates, as though choosing his words carefully, and then his thumb brushes over your knuckles, slow and deliberate.

"i just never thought…" he trails off, swallowing as he looks up at you, “that someone like you would…" choso stops, embarrassed, but his gaze is so earnest it makes your heart skip a beat.

"i think you should get used to it," you say softly, squeezing his hand back.

his pink lips turn up slightly in a rare, almost boyish smile, and he leans a little closer, letting his guard fall just enough for you to see a warmth and devotion behind those tired, haunted eyes.

he’s such an old soul, carrying with him the age of over a century. but still, being locked as a death painting isn't quite the right step for emotional development and romance is something new and vulnerable for him, something he’s still learning to give and accept.

the thought brings a smile to your lips as you gaze at him, his eyes closed in a rare moment of peace. gently, you lean forward, brushing a soft, feather-light kiss against his lips, but the moment your lips touch, his hand finds your jaw, his fingers rough but tender as they cradle your face.

you quietly gasp as choso deepens the kiss, pulling you closer, his lips warm and firm against yours. he often has this effect on you, this feeling of intolerable longing and devotion and you part your lips slightly. his other thick arm wraps around you, holding you securely, his grip strong but his movements are careful, so utterly mindful of you.

the kiss lingers, and when you finally pull away, his hazel eyes meet yours, slightly dazed but filled with a depth of emotion that leaves you breathless. and aching.

intimacy is something that is...new to choso. when you first pressed your lips to cheeks, you thought that every blood cell in his body would explode, so flushed was he. and to your great amusement, he had mildly jumped. and so, you've never broached the topic of anything closer.

but god, you want him so bad.

"cho -," and your breathy purr of the nickname has the half-curse shifting up so he's no longer in your lap, but now chasing after your lips, leaning down so you're caged in his arms, and you run your hands up choso's arms, feeling solid and defined muscle beneath your clenched fingertips.

there's a slight roughness to his skin, and as your hands trail upwards, you notice how his muscles shift beneath your touch, taut yet responsive.

choso pulls away reluctantly from you, even half-curses need air, of course. but his lips are glossed, and slightly parted, in a deeper shade of blood-red. and a faint flush colours his pallid features, tousled and so beautifully undone that you bite your lips, hands fisted in the soft, woven fabric of his robes.

but now your boyfriend's large hands are moving with surprising gentleness as they fiddle with the hem of your own top, the roughness of his fingers curling into thin cotton, and each electric brush of his fingers against the light hair dusting your stomach sends bolts curling lower between your thighs.

"may i?" his voice is soft, laced with a quiet shyness but the rasp gives away the want that he must feel. and so, you nod and hope that he can't perceive how you tremble, hoping that he can't sense the way his hazel gaze pulls at you.

but he looks at you as if everything has fallen away, and you are no longer of this realm, but rather hanging the stars in the night sky for him.

and choso is now peeling the top away from your skin, and his eyes come to rest on your chest. at the sight of your perked nipples, his mouth parts slowly and softly, and you giggle at his awe. and so, you reach for his large hand and pull it closer to you, letting one hand cup your breast, "it's okay, baby. you can touch."

he releases a breathy "thank you," pressing his rose-bud lips gently to the tender skin of your chest. his kisses are insistent, and you sigh as he dips his mouth in between the shadow of your chest, "you're doing so well, choso." you don't miss at how your boyfriend's brows furrow in concentration, a tremor in his broad figure.

"hmmph," and choso separates his mouth from your sensitive breasts to speak clearer, "you're so beautiful." there is no pretense in his tone, no hesitation, "more than i could ever have imagined."

you curl your fingers in choppy mahogany hair, pulling him closer as he continues his ministrations, "yeah, have you imagined this?" and your tone is teasing, letting him release a wet laugh into your torso.

"do i have to say?" and choso looks up at you with hazy eyes, sharp canines peeking out from the corners of his mouth.

"mhmm, fuck!" turns out he's quite the biter.

hes leaving small bite marks on your neck and his teeth are surprisingly honed in on letting small bruises bloom on thin skin, marking you. small indentations and pressure on your chest and stomach leaving behind petals and flowers of stinging pink and cherry red.

"i have thought about it," and he's now soothing his tongue over the offended marks, "thought about you so much." and now his eyes are wider as he meets your gaze again, "is that wrong?"

you laugh, and a foggy burn and ache is settling between the apex of your thighs by now. but you want him to feel good first, to show him what it feels like to be pleasured. you press a single finger to his lips, watching as his disheveled gape reels in the surprise of being interrupted, "lean back, cho."

and he does, giving you the perfect opportunity to flip positions once more, switching so you are no longer caged by his arms, but rather straddling thick thighs that tense under his soft robes. his arms hover at his sides for a moment, and you can tell he's aching to run his hands over your topless torso once more, but they settle instead on your waist, fingers digging into the flesh above the crux of your spine.

he's fidgeting, shifting and you don't miss the quiet "please," that falls from his mouth in that low, gravel-hewn tone.

you poke a single fingernail into his neck, right above his bobbing adam's apple, letting the nail prick mildly and gently into his skin, "be patient."

your hands are in the waistband of his wide, loose pants and your hand moves past the soft brush of dark curls over his groin. for a while, you probe around his muscled thighs, running and flicking your fingertips over sensitive skin as he whines into your kisses.

"oh my god - i don't think i can...it feels so good -," and you think your boyfriend has never looked more tempting. choso's tearing down on his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth, and soon he's pulling on your lips, harshly kissing you.

you laugh, "you can, we've barely just begun." your hands find his cock, and you duck your face into his veined neck to hide your expression of surprise.

frankly putting it, it's massive. it's thick and girthy, and its practically throbbing in your fist. and choso's stuttering, jolting in your hold, "my love," and he draws out the name with such a shallow cry that you take pity on him, pulling on the silky, damp skin until its out of his pants, and hitting the cold air of the night.

"mhm," you lean down, ignoring the twinge in your back from the awkward position, "what do you want me to do, cho?" and you run your thumb over the fat head, "do you want me to do this?"

you press a soft, innocent kiss to the pulsing tip, before parting your lips ever so slightly to take the first inch into your mouth, drawing your lips back with a smack.

"haah - i...i didn't know you could do that, ah!" choso huffs, and you marvel at how he looks like a deity carved out of stone, one of perfection.

"i can do many things. like this," and you press the flat of your tongue in broad strokes to his cock, taking pride in how he's practically shuddering from your work.

truth be told, you just wanted to jump his bones and have him in you, like right now. but one look at the size, at the several girthy inches had you reeling. and you ignore the coiling tension, lifting your mouth away from his cock and he whimpers, a question dancing on his tongue.

you shift your weight back, leaning further against his bent knees as your boyfriend's gaze is...shaky. like he isn't sure where to look. how to take and drink you in. whether his eyes need to rest on your jostling chest, or....lower.

lower to where you've parted your legs, spreading your thighs while you straddle him. moving the laced edges of your underwear to the side, and you watch as choso's mouth falls open ever so slightly with a soft "oh!" like the air has been punched out of him.

"wan' you cho. want you so bad," and your right hands finds its way in between your thighs, brushing over hot slick, "but you're too big, you're gonna have to do something for me first," and you wonder, when did you start begging?

choso swallows thickly, eyes not moving from your drooling slit that glimmered with a faint sheen in the dim light, his tone dulcet, "what do you want me to do?"

you giggle again, pressing a kiss to his forehead briefly, "you're so helpful, baby. and here -," you take your index finger, tapping it briefly, once or twice on your clit, jolting from the stimulation, before running it through your sticky folds, "you just gotta do this for a while, just gotta keep this up, and then!"

you cut off your own sentence with a gasp, making sure choso's eyes are trained on you, as you dip your finger right past your walls, curling it upwards. not enough to hit that spongy patch, but enough to have you clenching down, "you just gotta do this too, cho. can add more fingers if you - hnngh, like!"

you need not say more, for the minute you retract your hand, his fingertips have already replaced yours, and you're suddenly twisting on him from the sudden contact. choso's good, fuck, he's good.

his touch is searing, as he explores the translucent gloss of your cunt, rolling his fingers through your folds and pressing his thumb down on your clit that makes you squeal, "ngh, cho. right there, fuck, that feels so good," and you're rolling your hips into him, at a steady pace.

"am i doing this right, pretty?" and choso's tone is petulant, achy, "is this right, is this, ohh, this good enough for you?" and how could you ever claim it wasn't? not when a thick finger is breaching your gummy walls, and then another — and his digits are pressing right into your pussy. if you were already this full, how would you take his cock?

"cho - cho!" you shake him out of his reverie, pulling his fingers out and away and he glowers up at you, apparently offended that you were the one depriving him of such bliss.

"you didn't finish. did i do something wrong?"

"felt so fuckin' good, baby. but i think i'll die if you're not in me, like right now," and you cock your own hips back and run your slick, weeping cunt over the hot skin of his cock as choso suddenly throws his head back, and he mutters something that you don't catch, a curse in an older dialect.

each inch, each press of his veiny cock working through your pussy has the two of you keening, and you're suddenly letting his arms wrap around you, hold you stable as you let him sheathe himself in to the hilt.

choso's hands bruise at your hips once more, and you're not quite sure what has shifted in your sweet, shy boyfriend, but now he's suddenly cockier, and a cunt-struck twisted grin is plastered on his face, as he bucks his hips up, giving you little time to adjust to his sheer size, "if i had known it was this good, hnngh, ah! would have - would have done this ages ago. so long ago..."

you hiccup, tittering as you run your hands through dark strands, "yeah, that good, huh cho? got you pussy whipped like this?"

"so much," choso nods, and his pink mouth is parted as he whines out, right after you squeeze down on his length, letting him knock and jostle around in your pussy, as his swollen tip kisses your cervix, "maybe i just am, hahh, whipped," and his fingers are still running obedient taps and swirls around your clit, big hands squirming to fit in between the space of your mound and his groin, "cherish you, you know? love you, love you so much."

you kiss him, deeply, letting his mouth ghost upwards trying to catch the faint trail of spit as you separate, "love you too, cho."

he's now set a more desparate rhythm that leaves you quaking in his hold, and the feeling of his cock massaging your inner walls has you seeing stars.

and it hits you like a knife, the sharp feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock, milking the thick, white seed right out of him. you marvel at how choso's eyes roll back into his head and the most delicious groan is ripped out of him, one that you go to capture with your mouth, swallowing it up.

your own back arches as a wave of pleasure overtakes you, and leaves you shaking as you're pushed over the edge, and your heart is pounding so loudly, you can hear it in your eyes.

but choso makes no moves to shift you away from his cock, and instead he's letting out a rare laugh, one of joy, as you feel the sticky strings of his pearly cum coat the skin that presses into you.

"you're cute, cho."

his fingers are trailing faint little shapes on your chest, and you realise they're small hearts, and you bite back a grin at how your aged, half-curse, beautiful boyfriend finds romantic gestures with such ease.

"i think you're the most beautiful person in the entire world."

you mock-huff, smashing your lips against his once more, "wanna be on top this time?" surely, he can go another round?

[luckyjunehenry]

Where do you get your aesthetic inspiration from? you have such a specific feel to your music and art i wanted to know what inspires that! do you also have a pintrest?

There is so so much that inspires me in terms of visuals! I have been involved in zine-making and collecting since 2015, which is where a lot of the cut-and-paste type stuff comes from.

My teenage obsession with Drain Gang was honestly a massive source of inspiration for me, especially the artist behind Bladee's 333 album cover Claire Barrow. Lots of colors and little creatures. I'm also in love with the work Claire Barrow does with fibers, especially the Sweet Bitch scrunchies that Bladee wears in the Amygdala music video.

My mama has a BFA in textiles and does work as an interior designer so the homes I grew up in were always very distinctly intentional and beautiful. She likes a lot of mid-century modern type stuff, my favorite furniture pieces I grew up with where a yellow Eames rocking chair and a George nelson atomic ball clock. I have slept under a quilt that she made in college for years and years and it often functions as the core factor of the color palette of my spaces. No matter what I do to my bedrooms, that quilt always feels like the heart of it all.

growing up in the midwest also has had a big part in shaping my visual and musical styles, I think. Kansas sunsets are beautiful!! I love the prairie.

I'll leak my Pinterest to u all hehe, the username is luckybiter ! Im not super organized on there, my roomies and I mostly use it for decoration Inspo for the house. I have a board full of my favorite pictures I've taken in the midwest called Lurching Towards Utopia (reference to an unreleased song by my pal Park whose project is called Orchard Ladder, which you should definitely check out), and there's some June Henry 2025 fashion plans stuff on there, too.

[writingforstraykids]

Whispers of the Moon - Birthday Special

Pairing: Minchan (short mention of Felix / very short mention of the other boys)

Word Count: 6325

Summary: In the heart of Seoul, beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and ancient palaces, lies a hidden world of magic and mystery. Chan, a gifted healer, and Minho, a shapeshifter hiding as a sleek black cat, find their destinies intertwined in this enchanting underworld...

Warnings/Tags: magical!au, shapeshifter!minho, healer!chan, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers

A/N: The happiest birthday to my dear unnie @zehina. I actually went all nerdy and wrote loads about the world as well since I know you love it (and included the rest of the boys that way hehe). I hope you like it, love🖤

Seoul, South Korea's bustling capital, is known for its towering skyscrapers, historic palaces, and vibrant street markets. It is a city where ancient traditions and cutting-edge technology coexist in harmony. However, beneath its well-lit streets and modern facades lies a hidden realm—a magical underworld known only to a selected few. This subterranean world, rich with history and mystery, operates parallel to the everyday life of Seoul's residents, governed by its own rules and inhabited by beings from myth and legend.

The gateway to Seoul's magical underworld is not a grand archway or a secret door; it is a modest, unassuming teahouse in the bustling district of Insadong. The teahouse, known as "Moonlit Haven," has been in operation for centuries and has been passed down through generations of the same family. Its wooden exterior and traditional hanok architecture blend seamlessly with the area's historic atmosphere.

To the ungifted human, Moonlit Haven appears to be an ordinary teahouse serving fragrant teas and traditional Korean sweets. However, those who know the secret can access the portal to the underworld by ordering a special tea called "Moon's Whisper." Upon drinking this tea, a shimmering door appears at the back of the teahouse, leading to a stone staircase that descends deep into the earth.

The staircase spirals downward, lit by glowing blue lanterns that float in mid-air. The walls are adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes with magical creatures: the nine-tailed fox, the dragon king, and the heavenly warriors. As one descends, the air grows cooler and tinged with a faint scent of jasmine and pine.

At the bottom of the staircase, a grand archway looms, its surface covered in glowing runes. This is the true entrance to Seoul's magical underworld, a threshold between the mundane and the extraordinary. Stepping through the archway, one is immediately enveloped in a world unlike any other.

The magical underworld of Seoul, known as Secret City, is a sprawling subterranean metropolis that mirrors the city above but with its own unique twist. The sky here is an eternal twilight, illuminated by floating orbs that mimic the phases of the moon. Streets are paved with luminescent stones, and buildings are constructed from materials that shimmer with an inner light.

Secret City is divided into several districts, each with its own distinct character. There is the Enchanted Market, where vendors sell potions, enchanted artifacts, and rare ingredients. The Celestial District is home to beings of great power, including dragons and celestial foxes. The Whispering Woods, a dense forest of silver trees, is said to be haunted by spirits and home to elusive forest guardians.

The residents of Secret City are as diverse as the city itself. Humans with magical abilities live alongside mythical creatures. Among them are the Gumiho, nine-tailed foxes who can shapeshift and possess immense magical power. There are also Dokkaebi, goblins, mischievous but generally benign beings who love to play tricks on humans. Dragons, both Eastern and Western varieties, make their homes in the Celestial District, guarding ancient secrets and treasures.

The city's governance is overseen by a council of elders, composed of representatives from each major group. The council ensures harmony between the various inhabitants and that the secrets of Secret City are kept from the surface world, which is why any sort of magic is forbidden in the mundane world. 

The Enchanted Market is the heart of Secret City, a bustling bazaar where the air is filled with the scent of exotic spices and the sound of lively discussions. Stalls line the streets, their wares illuminated by lanterns that float overhead. Vendors shout out their goods, from enchanted scrolls and rare herbs to mystical artifacts and talismans.

One of the most renowned vendors in the market is Master Hyun, a potions master whose shop, "Elixirs of Eternity," is a treasure trove of magical concoctions. Shelves upon shelves are filled with bottles of all shapes and sizes, each containing liquids that shimmer with otherworldly light. Master Hyun is a man of twinkling eyes and ethereal beauty, always ready with a story about the origins of his potions.

One of his most sought-after potions is the "Dream Weaver," which allows the drinker to enter the dreams of others. Another popular item is the "Phoenix Tear," a potion that can heal any wound or ailment. Master Hyun's potions are known for their potency and reliability, making his shop a favorite among both the magical and non-magical residents of Secret City.

Another notable figure in the Enchanted Market is Ji-Sung, an artifact dealer whose collection is the envy of many. His shop, "Treasures of Time," is filled with rare and powerful artifacts from across the ages. Among his prized possessions are a mirror that shows the true nature of any being, a fan that can summon the wind and a sword that can cut through any material.

Ji-Sung is a mysterious figure, always dressed in elaborate silk robes and adorned with jewelry that seems to pulse with magic. He is known for his keen eye and sharp wit, and it is said that he never forgets a face. His shop is a place of wonder and danger, for while many seek his artifacts for their power, they often come with a price that is not measured in gold.

The Celestial District is home to some of the most powerful beings in Secret City. Dragons, with their majestic forms and ancient wisdom, reside here in grand palaces that float above the ground. These palaces, constructed from crystal and gold, radiate a light that can be seen from anywhere in the city.

Each dragon in the Celestial District guards a specific aspect of magic or nature. There is Aran, the dragon of water, whose palace is surrounded by a moat of liquid silver. There is Seraphine, the dragon of fire, whose abode is perpetually surrounded by a ring of flames. These dragons are both protectors and advisors, and their counsel is sought by the council of elders and other residents of Secret City.

Sharing the Celestial District with the dragons are the Gumiho, or nine-tailed foxes. These beings are both feared and respected for their immense magical power and their ability to shape-shift into beautiful women or men. The Gumiho live in harmony with the dragons, their abilities complementing the dragons' strength and wisdom.

The leader of the Gumiho is Jeongin, a fox spirit with silver fur and piercing dark eyes. Jeongin is known for his grace and intelligence, often acting as a mediator in disputes and a strategist in times of conflict. His palace, the Silver Moon Pavilion, is a place of beauty and tranquility, where the moonlight dances on the surface of a crystal-clear lake.

The Whispering Woods is a dense forest of silver trees, their leaves shimmering like moonlight. The woods are said to be haunted, with whispers echoing through the trees that speak of forgotten secrets and ancient magic. The path through the forest is winding and treacherous, known only to a few who dare to venture into its depths.

The Whispering Woods are guarded by forest spirits, ethereal beings who protect the ancient magic within the trees. These spirits, known as the Guardians, are invisible to most and reveal themselves only to those they deem worthy. They are led by Elder Bin, a spirit of great wisdom and power who has watched over the woods for centuries.

The Guardians are both protectors and guides, aiding those who seek knowledge or refuge in the woods. They are also the keepers of the Sacred Grove, a hidden sanctuary where the most potent magical energies converge. The Sacred Grove is a place of healing and renewal, its waters said to grant visions and its flowers capable of curing any illness.

Among the trees dwell the Spirits of the Lost, souls who have wandered into the woods and never found their way out. These spirits are not dangerous but rather sorrowful, seeking closure or redemption. They often appear as faint, glowing figures, their presence marked by a sudden chill in the air.

The Spirits of the Lost are guided by Lix, a gentle and compassionate spirit who helps them find peace. Lix is a beacon of light in the darkness of the woods, his soothing voice and kind heart offering comfort to those who have lost their way. Under his guidance, many spirits have found the closure they seek and moved on to the afterlife.

Scattered throughout Secret City are hidden temples dedicated to various deities and elemental forces. These temples are places of worship and power where the faithful come to seek blessings and guidance. Each temple is unique, reflecting the nature of the deity or force it honors.

One of the most revered temples in Secret City is the Temple of the Moon, a place of serene beauty and quiet reflection. The temple is built from white marble, its domed roof adorned with silver filigree that glows softly in the moonlight. Inside, a large pool of water reflects the light of the floating orbs above, creating an ethereal ambiance.

The Temple of the Moon is dedicated to the moon goddess, Haneul, who is believed to watch over Secret City from the skies. The temple is tended by a group of priests known as the Moon Brothers, who perform rituals and offer prayers on behalf of the city's residents. The head priest, Brother Seungmin, is a wise and gentle leader, his presence bringing a sense of peace and tranquility to all who visit the temple.

Another secret society is the Shadow Blades, a group of elite warriors and assassins who protect Secret City. They are skilled in martial arts and magic, and their training is rigorous and demanding. The Shadow Blades operate from the Shadowsong Keep, a hidden fortress deep within the Whispering Woods.

Commander Ji-Won is the leader of the Shadow Blades, a formidable warrior known for being both ruthless and just. Under his command, the Shadow Blades carry out missions to protect Secret City from external threats and internal strife. They are the unseen guardians of the city, their presence felt but rarely seen. Minho is one of them, slowly working his way up the ranks but facing struggles with his colleagues. He’s not as powerful with magic as most of them but has the ability to shapeshift into a cat, making him perfect for secret missions. Which pissed a lot of people off. 

Throughout its history, Secret City has been protected by heroes who have risen to defend the city against threats, both internal and external. These heroes, known as the Chosen Ones, are individuals of great courage and power, often possessing unique abilities that set them apart from others.

No hero is complete without a healer, and in Secret City, that role is filled by Chan, a gifted healer whose touch can mend even the gravest of wounds. Chan is a member of the Temple of the Moon, his gentle nature and healing magic bringing comfort and hope to those in need. He carries a staff, the Moon's Grace, which enhances his healing abilities and allows him to channel the power of the moon goddess.

Seoul's magical underworld, Secret City, is a place of wonder, danger, and beauty. It is a city where the mundane and the extraordinary coexist, where ancient myths come to life, and where the balance between light and dark is constantly maintained. The residents of Secret City, both human and mythical, live in harmony, their lives intertwined by the magic that permeates their world.

As the gateway between the two realms, Moonlit Haven reminds visitors that there is more to Seoul than meets the eye. For those who dare to seek it, a world of magic and mystery awaits, hidden beneath the bustling streets and modern skyscrapers of South Korea's capital. In Secret City, the impossible becomes possible, and the ordinary becomes extraordinary—a true testament to the enduring power of magic.

-

Minho had always been different. As a member of the Shadow Blades, the elite warriors and protectors of Secret City, his abilities made him a target of both admiration and envy. Unlike many of his comrades, he lacked powerful magic but possessed a unique talent: the ability to shapeshift into a sleek, agile cat. This ability made him invaluable for espionage, slipping unnoticed through shadows and tight spaces. However, his success and the recognition it brought only fueled the resentment of his peers.

The tension reached its peak after a particularly challenging mission. Minho had been instrumental in retrieving a stolen artifact from a rogue mage, but his success was met with scorn rather than praise. Whispers of jealousy and accusations of favoritism swirled among his colleagues, resulting in an unjust decision by his superior officers. They accused him of withholding information and acting independently, charges that were untrue but impossible for Minho to refute without pushing himself even further away.

"You think you're special because of your abilities," spat one of his fellow warriors. "But you're just a liability. We don't need someone who can't follow orders."

The decision was swift and brutal. Minho was stripped of his rank and cast out from the Shadowsong Keep. The sense of betrayal cut deeper than any blade. He was alone, exiled from the only family he had known, forced to fend for himself in the vast, mystical underworld of Secret City.

With nowhere else to turn, Minho fled through the Whispering Woods, a dense forest known for its haunting beauty and perilous magic. The silver leaves of the trees shimmered in the eternal twilight, casting an eerie glow on the winding paths. Here, the whispers of ancient secrets and lost souls filled the air, a symphony of sorrow and mystery.

Exhausted and wounded from his escape, Minho made a desperate decision. He transformed into his cat form, hoping the change would allow him to navigate the forest more easily and evade any pursuers. The transformation was both a relief and a curse, offering him agility and stealth but stripping him of his human voice and hands.

As a cat, Minho's senses were heightened. He could hear the rustle of leaves, the distant calls of nocturnal creatures, and the soft murmurs of the forest spirits. His fur provided some protection against the chill, but the pain of his injuries persisted. Despite his resilience, the journey through the Whispering Woods was grueling, each step a struggle against fatigue and despair.

Lix found him curled up beneath a tree and noticing his injuries he knew there was only one way to save him. He scooped him up from the ground and soothingly caressed his head, able to tell there was more to him than just an innocent, hurt cat.

After days of wandering, they finally reached the Temple of the Moon, a place of serene beauty and powerful magic. The temple, constructed from white marble and adorned with silver filigree, stood as a beacon of hope amidst the dark woods. Its domed roof glowed softly, reflecting the light of the floating orbs above. Lix set him down on the ground and gently shoved him forward. “I’m not allowed to enter, but you are, little friend. Go and accept the refuge they have to provide.”

Minho hesitated at the entrance, his feline instincts wary of the unknown. He had heard of the temple's head healer, Chan, a gifted young man whose touch could mend even the gravest of wounds. Desperation outweighed caution, and Minho limped into the courtyard, collapsing near the temple steps.

Moments later, a figure emerged from the temple. Chan, carrying a staff that radiated a gentle light, approached the injured cat. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the wounded animal, but his expression quickly softened into one of compassion.

"Poor thing," Chan murmured, kneeling beside Minho. "Let's get you inside."

Chan carefully lifted Minho and carried him into the temple. The interior was as serene as the exterior, with moonlight streaming through stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the marble floor. Chan placed Minho on a soft cushion and gently examined his injuries.

"You're in bad shape, but we'll get you fixed up," Chan said soothingly. He placed his hands over Minho's wounds, and a warm, healing light emanated from his palms. The pain began to fade, replaced by a soothing sensation that spread through Minho's body.

As the healing progressed, Minho watched Chan with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. Chan's touch was gentle, his expression focused yet kind. There was something inherently calming about him, a presence that put Minho at ease despite his recent ordeal.

When Chan finished, he sat back and smiled. "There you go, little one. You should feel better soon."

Minho meowed softly in response, his eyes conveying the gratitude he couldn't express in words. Chan chuckled and scratched behind Minho's ears. "You can stay here as long as you need to. I'll take care of you."

Days turned into weeks as Minho recovered under Chan's care. He adapted to his new life at the Temple of the Moon, observing the daily routines and rituals from the shadows. In his cat form, Minho found a strange sense of peace. He was safe from his past and had a chance to start anew.

Chan grew fond of the cat he had rescued, naming him "Moonshadow" for his sleek, dark fur and the way he seemed to blend into the twilight. Minho, in turn, became Chan's silent guardian, following him around the temple and offering companionship.

Whenever Chan was away, Minho would revert to his human form, cleaning the temple and performing small tasks to help ease his guilt for deceiving him. He hoped that his actions would repay some of the kindness Chan had shown him, even if Chan never knew the truth.

Chan, however, began to notice the small changes around the temple. Rooms were tidier, supplies were replenished, and the garden seemed to flourish under an unseen hand. He attributed these miracles to the blessings of the moon goddess, unaware of the true source.

Five months later

In the eternal twilight of Secret City, the Temple of the Moon was a sanctuary of tranquility and magic. Within its serene confines, Chan sat cross-legged on a plush cushion, his gentle eyes scanning the pages of an ancient tome. The moonlight streaming through the stained glass windows cast a colorful, ethereal glow around him, creating an atmosphere of peace and contemplation.

Beside him, Minho, in his cat form, stretched lazily, his sleek black fur shimmering in the soft light. As he yawned and settled into a more comfortable position, his eyes never left Chan. There was a bond between them that went beyond mere companionship—a connection forged through trials and a deep mutual understanding.

Chan noticed Minho’s gaze and smiled warmly. “Hey there, Moonshadow,” he said softly. “Come here.”

Minho’s ears perked up at the sound of Chan’s voice. With a graceful leap, he landed beside Chan and began to nuzzle his head against Chan’s outstretched hand. Chan’s fingers moved instinctively to scratch behind Minho’s ears, a spot that always made the cat purr contentedly.

“There we go,” Chan murmured, his voice soothing and gentle. He could feel the vibrations of Minho’s purrs under his fingertips, a rhythmic reminder of the trust and affection between them.

Minho closed his eyes, leaning into Chan’s touch. The sensation of Chan’s fingers running through his fur was blissful, and his purring grew louder, filling the quiet room with its soothing sound. It was moments like these that made all the hardships and uncertainties of their lives seem distant and unimportant.

Chan chuckled softly. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

In response, Minho rubbed his head against Chan’s cheek, a gesture of affection that made Chan’s heart swell with warmth. The simple act of being close to Chan brought Minho a sense of security and happiness he had never thought possible before meeting him.

“You’re such a sweet kitty,” Chan whispered, continuing to scratch Minho’s head and under his chin. Minho’s purrs grew even louder, and he started to knead Chan’s chest with his paws, his claws retracting just enough to avoid scratching the fabric of Chan’s robe.

Chan shifted slightly, leaning back against the cushions and creating a more comfortable space for both of them. Minho took this as an invitation and climbed onto Chan’s chest, circling a few times before curling up in a tight ball. His tail wrapped around his body, and he rested his head on his paws, looking up at Chan with half-closed eyes.

“You look so peaceful,” Chan said, his voice barely above a whisper. He rested one hand gently on Minho’s back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Minho’s eyes closed fully, and he let out a contented sigh. The warmth of Chan’s body, combined with the rhythmic motion of his hand on his back, lulled him into a state of deep relaxation. His purring continued, a soft, steady sound that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the temple.

For Chan, having Minho close was a source of immense comfort. The bond they shared went beyond that of a healer and his pet; it was a connection of souls, a partnership forged over time. Chan found solace in Minho’s presence, a sense of completeness that he had never experienced before.

As the minutes passed, the tranquility of the moment deepened. Chan’s thoughts drifted, the worries of the day fading into the background. All that mattered was the gentle weight of Minho on his chest, the soothing sound of his purrs, and the warmth of their shared affection.

Minho, on the verge of sleep, shifted slightly and nuzzled his head against Chan’s chest. He felt safe, cherished, and loved—a stark contrast to the loneliness and betrayal he had once known. In this sacred space, with Chan’s heartbeat as his lullaby, Minho found a peace that transcended the physical realm.

Chan continued to stroke Minho’s fur, his touch light and tender. He could feel the trust dripping from the small creature in his arms, a trust that was both humbling and empowering. Chan knew that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, their bond unbreakable.

“I promise to always take care of you,” Chan whispered, his voice filled with emotion. 

Minho’s purring intensified for a moment, as if acknowledging Chan’s words. Then, gradually, it began to fade as sleep overtook him. His body relaxed completely, his breathing slow and steady. Chan watched him with a soft smile, his own heart filled with a profound sense of gratitude and love.

The Temple of the Moon, with its timeless beauty and serene atmosphere, bore witness to the deep connection between Chan and Minho. In this sacred place, under the watchful gaze of the moon goddess, they found a moment of perfect harmony—a testament to the enduring power of love and trust in a world filled with magic and mystery.

As Chan closed his eyes, his hand resting gently on Minho’s sleeping form, he knew that their journey together was far from over. But in this moment, they had everything they needed: each other. And that was enough.

-

One evening, as Chan prepared for his nightly prayers, he looked at Moonshadow, who was curled up on a cushion nearby. "You know, sometimes I feel like there's more to you than meets the eye," Chan mused aloud. "You're special, aren't you?"

Minho's ears perked up, and he watched Chan with wide, curious eyes. Chan smiled and continued, "I think the goddess sent you to me for a reason. Maybe you're my familiar, a guardian spirit to protect and guide me."

The words struck a chord in Minho's heart. He had always felt a deep connection to Chan, a sense of duty and protectiveness that went beyond mere gratitude. Perhaps there was truth in Chan's words, a destiny that had brought them together.

That night, Chan performed a ritual to bind Moonshadow as his familiar. He drew intricate symbols on the ground, lit candles, and recited ancient incantations. As the ritual reached its climax, a surge of magical energy enveloped Minho, strengthening the bond between them.

Minho felt a profound shift within him, a merging of their spirits that filled him with newfound purpose. He was now bound to Chan, his protector and companion, their fates intertwined by the magic of the moon.

-

As Chan's familiar, Minho took his duties seriously. He remained vigilant, always on the lookout for potential threats. His heightened senses allowed him to detect dangers before they could reach Chan, and his presence provided comfort and reassurance.

One day, trouble arrived in the form of dark mages seeking to disrupt the balance of magic in Secret City. These mages, practitioners of forbidden magic, targeted the Temple of the Moon, believing its powerful magic could be harnessed for their nefarious purposes.

Chan was in the garden when the attack began. Dark figures emerged from the shadows, casting spells that warped the air and sent tremors through the ground. Chan's staff glowed as he raised a protective barrier, but the dark mages' assault was relentless.

Minho, sensing the danger, leapt into action. He transformed into his human form, his body a blur of motion as he intercepted the attackers. With a combination of agility and ferocity, Minho fought off the dark mages, his cat-like reflexes and strength giving him an edge.

Chan, focused on maintaining the barrier, was unaware of the true identity of his savior. He glanced over in shock as he saw a young man fighting with the grace and power of a guardian beast.

Despite his best efforts to hide his true nature, Minho's ears were visible, a telltale sign of his shapeshifter abilities. As the last of the dark mages fled, Chan lowered the barrier and approached Minho cautiously.

"Who are you?" Chan asked, his voice a mix of awe and confusion. Their eyes met and Chan’s eyes widened recognizing those soft brown orbs he’d come to love so much. His eyes wandered up where Minho’s dark cat ears peaked from his messy brown hair. "Are you... Moonshadow?"

Minho hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yes, I am. My name is Minho. I'm a shapeshifter, exiled from the Shadowsong Keep. I've been living here in my cat form, afraid you would kick me out if you knew the truth. I know we aren’t very welcomed around here.”

Chan's expression softened, and he reached out to touch Minho's shoulder. "You protected me, Minho. You've been by my side all this time, helping and watching over me. I don't care about your past or your abilities. You are my familiar, and I am grateful for everything you've done."

Tears welled up in Minho's eyes, a mix of relief and gratitude flooding his heart. "Thank you, Chan. I promise to always protect you, no matter what."

-

Minho’s revelation had lifted a weight off his chest, but it also left him feeling vulnerable. Living as a shapeshifter meant hiding his true self, something he’d grown accustomed to. Yet, in front of Chan, he was completely exposed. For Chan, the revelation was a mix of shock and intrigue. The gentle healer had always felt a special bond with Moonshadow, but knowing that the affectionate cat was also a brave young man named Minho deepened that connection.

Their daily routines continued, but with a newfound understanding. Minho still shifted into his cat form, now more out of comfort than necessity. He still enjoyed curling up on Chan’s chest, feeling his rhythmic breathing and the warmth of his body. Chan, on his part, welcomed Minho’s human presence when he transformed, appreciating the help around the temple and the companionship Minho offered.

The first night after Minho’s revelation, Chan found it hard to sleep. He kept glancing at Minho, now in his human form, tidying up the temple’s main hall. The moonlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a soft glow on Minho’s face. He moved gracefully, his actions efficient and almost mesmerizing to watch. Chan felt a strange flutter in his chest, a mix of admiration and affection.

“Minho,” Chan called softly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Minho turned, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. “Yes, Chan?”

Chan hesitated, then smiled. “You don’t have to push yourself so hard. Come sit with me.”

Minho’s expression softened, and he abandoned the broom he was holding, walking over to where Chan sat. He settled down beside him, their shoulders almost touching. There was a quiet intimacy in the moment, a shared silence that spoke volumes.

“I never thought I’d find someone like you,” Chan admitted quietly. “Someone who understands and accepts me for who I am.”

Minho looked at him, his eyes sincere. “I feel the same way. You’ve given me a place to belong, Chan. For that, I’m grateful.”

They sat in silence for a while, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing moment. Chan’s hand moved almost instinctively, reaching out to hold Minho’s. Minho’s fingers intertwined with his, the simple touch sending a warm feeling through both of them.

-

As days turned into weeks, the relationship between Chan and Minho deepened. They developed a rhythm, a balance of shared tasks and quiet moments of companionship. Minho’s presence brought a sense of stability to Chan’s life, while Chan’s gentle nature provided Minho with a sense of peace he had never known before.

Chan’s duties as a healer often took him to various parts of Secret City. Minho, always in his cat form, accompanied him, providing silent support. He became Chan’s shadow, always alert and ready to protect him if necessary. Their bond as familiar and master was strong, but it was the bond of friendship and growing affection that truly defined their relationship.

One afternoon, while Chan was tending to a patient in the Celestial District, Minho, in his cat form, explored the area. The dragons and celestial foxes were impressive, their majestic forms and ancient wisdom evident in every interaction. Minho’s keen senses picked up the subtle undercurrents of power and respect that flowed through the district.

As Chan finished his work, he called out for Minho. The sleek black cat appeared almost instantly, weaving through the crowd with ease. Chan smiled as he picked Minho up, cradling him gently.

“You always know where to find me,” Chan said, scratching behind Minho’s ears. Minho purred in response, nuzzling against Chan’s cheek.

Their return to the temple was peaceful, the twilight sky casting a serene glow over Secret City. Minho transformed back into his human form once they were inside, stretching his limbs as he did so.

“Another successful day,” Chan remarked, setting down his staff.

Minho nodded. “You’re an amazing healer, Chan. The way you help people… it’s inspiring.”

Chan’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. “Thank you, Minho. But I couldn’t do it without your support.”

Minho’s heart swelled at the words. He was finding it harder to keep his feelings for Chan hidden. The healer’s kindness, dedication, and the way he made Minho feel valued and appreciated—it was all becoming too much to ignore.

Their bond grew stronger with each passing day, but so did Minho’s feelings for Chan. He found himself drawn to the healer in ways he hadn’t expected. Chan’s smile, his laughter, the way he cared for others—it all made Minho’s heart race.

One evening, as they sat together under the soft glow of the moonlight, Chan turned to Minho with a thoughtful expression. “Minho, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Minho replied, curious.

“Why do you stay in your cat form most of the time?” Chan asked gently. “I mean, I understand it became your natural state by now, but you can be human whenever you want. Why do you choose to be a cat?”

Minho looked down, his ears twitching slightly. “It’s… complicated. When I’m in my cat form, I feel safe. I can protect you without drawing too much attention. And it’s easier to hide my true feelings.”

“Your true feelings?” Chan echoed, his curiosity piqued.

Minho hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Chan, there’s something I need to tell you. Ever since you took me in, I’ve felt this… connection. It’s more than just being your familiar. I care about you deeply, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. But I’ve been afraid to show it, afraid that you might not feel the same way.”

Chan’s eyes softened, and he reached out to take Minho’s hand. “Minho, I care about you too. You’ve become an important part of my life, and I can’t imagine it without you. I think… I think I’ve been feeling the same way.”

Minho’s heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

Chan nodded. “Yes. I’ve been trying to understand these feelings, and now I realize that I’ve fallen for you, Minho. Not just as my familiar, but as someone I want to be with.”

Minho’s eyes filled with tears of relief and happiness. “Chan, I’ve loved you for so long. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Chan pulled Minho into a gentle embrace. “You don’t have to hide your feelings anymore. We’ll face this together.”

Minho clung to Chan, the warmth of his embrace filling him with a sense of belonging. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other under the moonlight, their hearts beating in sync.

-

With their feelings out in the open, Minho and Chan’s relationship took on a new dimension. They were no longer just healer and familiar; they were partners, united by love and a deep sense of understanding. Their bond grew stronger, their affection for each other evident in every touch, every glance, every shared moment.

Chan continued his work as a healer, and Minho remained by his side, providing support and protection. They faced challenges together, their love giving them strength and resilience. Secret City, with its magic and mystery, became a backdrop for their blossoming relationship.

One day, as they walked through the Enchanted Market, Minho in his human form, Chan took his hand. “I have a surprise for you.”

Minho looked at him curiously. “What is it?”

Chan led him to a small shop filled with beautiful artifacts and magical items. The shopkeeper, a kind young man, greeted them with a warm smile.

“Welcome, Chan. I see you’ve brought a special friend today,” he said.

Chan smiled and nodded. “Yes, Minho is very special to me. And I want to give him something to show how much he means to me.”

Jisung’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, I have just the thing.”

He led them to a display case and pulled out a delicate silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon. “This pendant is filled with protective magic. It will keep the wearer safe and strengthen the bond between two hearts.”

Chan took the pendant and turned to Minho. “I want you to have this. It’s a symbol of our bond and my promise to always be there for you.”

Minho’s lip quivered slightly as he took the pendant. “Thank you, Chan. I’ll cherish it always.”

Chan fastened the pendant around Minho’s neck, and they shared a tender kiss, sealing their love with a magical promise.

-

Their love continued to grow, but so did the challenges they faced. Dark forces still threatened Secret City, and Minho and Chan found themselves in the midst of several battles. Their bond was tested, but their love gave them the strength to overcome every obstacle.

One evening, as they returned to the temple after a particularly difficult mission, Chan collapsed from exhaustion. Minho caught him, his heart pounding with fear. “Channie, are you okay?”

Chan smiled weakly. “I’m just tired, Minho. I’ll be fine.”

Minho carried Chan inside and laid him down on a soft cushion. He tended to Chan’s wounds, his hands trembling with worry. “You’ve pushed yourself too hard, Chan. You need to rest.”

Chan reached up to touch Minho’s face. “I’ll be okay, Minho. I have you by my side.”

Minho’s eyes filled with tears as he leaned down to kiss Chan’s forehead. “I love you, Chan. Please take care of yourself like you do with everyone else.”

“I love you too, Minho,” Chan whispered, closing his eyes. “Thank you for being here with me.”

Minho stayed by Chan’s side, holding his hand and watching over him as he slept. The trials they faced only strengthened their bond, their love a beacon of hope and resilience in the face of darkness.

-

As time passed, Minho and Chan’s love continued to flourish. They built a life together, their bond unbreakable and their hearts intertwined. Secret City, with its magic and mystery, became their home, a place where their love could grow and thrive.

One evening, as they sat together under the moonlight, Chan turned to Minho with a smile. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

Minho nodded, his eyes filled with affection. “How could I forget? You saved me, Chan. You gave me a place to belong.”

Chan took Minho’s hand, their fingers intertwining. “And you gave me a reason to believe in love. You’ve made my life complete, Minho.”

Minho leaned in to kiss Chan, their lips meeting in a tender, loving embrace. “I promise to always be by your side, Chan. Forever.”

Chan smiled, his heart filled with joy. “Forever.”

As they held each other under the soft glow of the moonlight, Minho and Chan knew that their love was eternal. In the magical underworld of Secret City, their hearts had found a home in each other, a love that would endure through any challenge, a bond that would never be broken.

Together, they faced the world, their love a guiding light in the darkness. And in each other’s arms, they found a love that was truly magical, a love that would last forever.

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

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[glowingbadger]

Hi, it’s @libidinous-weeb!! I would like to request some alphabet prompts for SETETH, the dragon daddy who could fix ME.

Could I get M, Y, and…perhaps either D or W? I know you’ve done those letters already but I feel like I know in my heart you could think of more lmao. If not, maybe T then?

No pressure just D and W are my favoritessss

My love!! My husbando of husbandos!! My perfect dragon DILF!! This request was technically further down on my list, but I wanted to post some Seteth thirst-content for father's day lmao so here we are.

For my fellow dilf-fuckers, I'll include a link here to the section of my masterlists containing the frankly baffling amount of Seteth smut I've written here over the years. Tis the season!

Alphabet prompts - Seteth (FE3H)

M (motivation), T (toys), Y (yearning)... and maybe an extra W (wild card) as a treat...

NSFW 18+

Motivation: While Seteth's sex drive is predictably pent up and, as a result, intensely compelling (we'll get to it below), he's also incredibly accustomed to stifling his lusts- so much so that it's practically a reflex at this point. As such, actually pursuing his desires is something that will need to be gently encouraged and teased out of him with time, so for a long while into a relationship with him, he's mostly reactionary about it. It's as though in showing that you desire him, it subconsciously grants him "permission" to express his own lusts in turn- so unless you get really good at reading extremely subtle cues very early on (heated stares that he averts as soon as you catch him, his touch ever so slightly lingering, etc), you're going to have to be the one to initiate things for a while- but when you do, he meets your passionate energy and then some.

Toys: As to the comparatively sparse options presumably available within the intended time period of FE3H, Seteth has a politely curious but ultimately limited interest in them. While it can certainly be appealing to play with a plug or carefully carved dildo of sorts (and I've always enjoyed the idea of him using one specifically to stimulate you during the work day while he's unavailable, or to keep his cum inside of you), it's typically not a significant part of the "main event" for him. He's of course not shy about lubes, massage oils, and the like- as these can be pleasantly stimulating, provided they don't cause too much of a mess. To my mind, it's more amusing to imagine a modern setting, where Seteth is made to confront the sheer quantity and variety of pleasure toys that humans have innovated over the years- including some rather "dragon inspired" ones, on which he has strongly conflicting feelings.

Yearning: Goddess, Seteth wants you, and it's just about compelling enough to break through literal centuries of repression piled on so heavy that he'd almost forgotten he possessed such carnal wants and needs before he found himself with an oh-so-willing partner. In terms of his sex-drive, he's honestly playing catch-up in a way, and he has to relearn how to accept, process and express his lusts in a way that won't quietly drive him mad. It's not even necessarily repression solely due to religious dogma- though his position in the church does require that he conduct himself appropriately to avoid scandal. It's more about the need to avoid A. siring a child by accident (no one needs uknown half-dragons wandering around Fodlan) and B. allowing the wrong person to find out a bit too much about him, and by extension, Flayn (it's tough to hide pointed ears in bed).

Wild card bonus round: This is more a personal chip I've had on my shoulder about writing Seteth smut, but I've always felt strongly that calling him Cichol in bed is something that should only be done with care, during moments of emotional intimacy and vulnerability, and most importantly, only after discussing it with him. Whipping that one out on him mid-sex without warning would just frazzle his nerves and take him completely out of the moment- hell, worst case it could be similar to dead-naming. But with discussion about it prior, or waiting for him to ask you to call him by his old name, it can be an incredibly tender and sensual experience for both of you- a sign of the deep and profound trust he has in you, and his desire to open himself to you completely.

[submalevolentgrace]

(yesterday i received an ask, which prompted me to write the following response. the asker has apologised for sending it and i took it down to prevent anyone from laying into them, but present is anonymously below because i like my response and want you to see it)

"Based on the fun new revelation that the world is ending before I graduate, is it even worth it to try prepping or should we all just get ready to jump into traffic come 2025?"

okay, there is, A LOT to unpack here. i'm gonna do my best to respond to this helpfully, the way i am facing it: confronting it, emotionally processing it, pragmatically preparing, and holding on to a sort of grim, dark hope.

we're talking about climate collapse and the latest IPCC report here right? first off, it's not a new revelation. maybe it is for you personally, but for humanity as a whole, we've known about the inevitable outcomes of emissions damaging the climate since like the 70's. i found out about it myself in primary school in the mid 90's, when it was still called the greenhouse effect, and i then spent 20 years on and off in various roles of support for climate activism, when i had the spoons. if you're young and just finding out about it now i know it's probably overwhelming, and especially sucks the later you've been born into this mess… but i'm pointing out that it's not new, to underline the point that it's also not sudden. yeah it's getting worse, but it's been getting worse for generations, and will keep getting worse for generations.

it's not a meteor, or a volcano. it's a creeping steady decline of habitability with sputters and bursts of natural disaster; there is no timeline or event or threshold at which the world ends here.

that 2025 "deadline" from this year's IPCC synthesis report, for instance; it's not a date that the world ends. honestly, in some ways, it's kinda meaningless. what it is, as i understand it, is that all the data says that if we want to limit global average temperature rises to 1.5C by end of century - which we do, because even 2C would be catastrophic - we need emissions to peak by 2025 and then rapidly decline. it's a vastly oversimplified agregate of incredibly complex data reduced down to the point of absurdity in a desperate attempt by scientists to get corporations to allow governments to take action to limit corporations. it's a deadline for government action to limit effects by 2100. the year will come, and pass, and the world will go on. probably with emissions still going up, probably with targets shifted again and 2C accepted as the next half hearted goal that will also be missed, but life will go on.

no end of the world. life will go on. into the 2030's, into the 2040's, into the 2100's, life will go on. it'll be hotter and colder, wetter and drier, more storms and bushfires, less food and fertile land, but life will go on. populations will starve, land will become uninhabitable, life will go on. when you hear about "the end of the world" from climate collapse, it's not a hard apocalypse that kills us all off or whatever. it's the slow creep of nature getting more harsh, and the way we do things much harder.

if you look at the serious reports from scientists and militaries, the language you see isn't "end of the world", it's "end of modern societies". that's what's really at risk: the fragile infrastructure that holds up the ruling classes of rich nations and has us all scurrying around to make it work. mass scale power grids, international supply chains and just in time logistics, silicon wafer production, year-round plastic wrapped preserved passionfruit chunks grown in thailand, packed in argentina, sold in france, profits to america, money stored on a computer in the cayman islands. i can't sugarcoat it and say that's all that's at stake; people are definitely going to starve and drown and die of exposure; but that already happens every day in most of the world, right now. there are a million rohingya at the border of bangladesh, locals fleeing khartoum as the west airlifts out is nationals, people whose civilisations were crushed under the boots of empires and land destroyed to create the farmland and factories that are killing the planet. life for them goes on.

i mean, i get it. seeing the impending collapse of your society, everything you've known for your whole life being willfully destroyed, it's fucking devastating. we want to keep sitting here on comfortable couches with our gold and cobalt plated supercomputers sharing cat gifs on the hellsite. we don't want to have our civilisation taken away from us and be forced into brutal struggle to survive. it's going to fucking suck, it will be awful, and it will be (and already is) most destructive to the people who are already the worst off, which just sucks even more… and maybe your life is already bad enough that you don't think you can handle it getting worse. i mean, i've been suicidal since i was 14 and i've been through trauma and medical torture you wouldn't believe since then. i get it. you're scared, terrified even. existentially threatened. you don't know what you can handle and maybe you donn't wanna find out.

but here's the thing: the ONLY sensible thing you can do, now and going forwards, is prepare for it.

you wanna kill yourself when it gets hard? let's say sure, i agree with that. what's the threshold then, what's the limit? when will you kill yourself? the power grid going down? sewerage backing up? supply chains failing and being unable to buy food? from the comfort of the developed world, those all feel like exit points i can imagine many people taking as their out… but how long does it have to last before you know it's carbon-monoxide-party time? a month of no power, no flush, no food? a week, a few months, or a year? because it won't start that way.

it's not a meteor or volcano, it's a slow slide. some powerlines sagged so there's rolling blackouts every now and then, a few hours or a day at a time. pipes backed up a bit so pressure is reduced for a week until repairs are done. fires and plague have closed roads so shelves are bare and stores are limiting purchases on essentials this month. there will be bumps along the road before there will be any sort of definitive cliff where you can say "this is it, now is the time to kill myself". these bumps are already happening.

i really hope you can agree, it'd be absurd to be such a fatalistic doomer that you kill yourself instantly at the first blackout, dry tap, or closed grocery store; when you can't know if it'll be back up in a few hours or tomorrow or next week. these small disruptions are already happening right now, directly as a result of climate collapse, but we're still here, still living. if we're going to talk about suicide as a pragmatic option, you need a threshold, and wherever you set it, you'll have to get through what comes before. "i'll kill myself after a month with no grid" still means you gotta be ready for a week without it. you gotta prepare, even if you plan to not survive.

and i know it's overwhelming, i know. to look around and think about what is essential to keep you going, what you can sacrifice, how you can make it through. but you're not going to be doing it alone, everyone around you is going to be doing it with you. we're all going to be struggling through it, and based on how communities have responded in the last few years to a string of once-in-a-lifetime disasters here in my home of climate-fucked australia, i am certain that when the climate collapses around a group of people, they will form a community and help each other, no matter how selfish and mean of a country bogan (translation: redneck) they are. people will help each other; people already are helping each other.

because yeah, climate collapse will probably destroy modern civilisation… but so what? it's a neoliberal capitalist hellscape quickly plunging us into technologically enforced eternal authoritarianism… and like, not to be an accelerationist or anything, but here's that dark hope i mentioned: i'm kinda relieved by the thought that the infrastructure that enables it won't last this century. that climate collapse will force us out of these horrors, and back into real, interdependent community.

so do what you can to prepare, how you can, to make the little disruptions more bearable and comfortable. there's plenty of resources still available for off grid life, camping, home agriculture, and general self sufficiency out there on the still-existant internet, and more people are getting into it all the time - not just what you imagine when you hear "prepper". any skill you can develop, anything you can do to prepare, even if it's as simple as keeping extra shelf stable food and a jug of clean water around, anything you can do will help you materially and more importantly, mentally.

having some jerry cans of water and a small solar setup has been amazing for my mental health and anxiety! and as much as i'm putting material and energy into preperations, i'm also putting them into comfort, maybe even hedonism. collecting some cool lego, got some fancy synths i didn't need, making fucked up noise music with them. enjoying the sound of the neighbours' chickens, looking forward to the day "the world ends" and i can free-range my own on the council's nature strip and share the eggs with the pottery lady down the street. once you're prepared to survive a week of grid down, maybe you'll realise a month, a year, isn't so unbearable. maybe it starts to feel nice?

because i've been there, the suicidal grief. 2018 was absolutely the worst year of my life and i was sure i'd die being tortured in hospital, and coming out of that, in 2019, both the IPCC and ADF released incredibly bleak reports on climate collapse outcomes, and it all sank in. all the spare spoons i'd sunk into helping when i could, all the decades of scientists desperately warning, it all failed. the final warnings have been coming for years, with no change in course, it's happening. and i faced the realisation that my decades were limited, my time of comfort short, and i started despairing and grieving. i turned to what support systems i had, and they failed me. when my psych asked what i was so anxious about and i started explaining the climate reports, he tensed up and started asking diagnostic questions for dilusional psychosis. i went home and cried, i was sleeping on the couch in the junk storage room of my sharehouse because i'd let my own room fill up with so much trash that there was a distinctly organic smell of growth choking the whole place out. i was fucking done, my heart and body broken, there didn't seem to be any point in anything, not without a future. it's the closest i've been to killing myself since leaving home…

so i said, fuck it. i've got a tiny pool of cash from welfare backpay, and i bought a synth i wanted. it fucking rocked, and brought me so much joy, so i bought another, and another. no future to save for, anyway. i made some cool music, i never saw that psych again, i gave up on my drive for revenge on doctors and finding answers about my fucked up nervous system, why bother when the world is ending? and i made music. i can kill myself later maybe. i started loving myself more, because what's the point starving to death hating myself? i made music and got confident and cleaned my fucking room, bought a new mattress. i met a girl and took a chance and we fucked real good and i fell in love again. i moved out somewhere new and quieter and left a home of over a decade behind me, left parts of my identity behind me, moving forward and growing for the better. i have a family now, the first family that has ever loved me without expecting anything in return, and i love them with all my heart. i listen to the chickens, and watch leaves float down the storm water drain, and make cool music. yesterday i listened to a 14 minute track i made 6 months ago and almost cried, because nobody can make music that is so perfect for my tastes except me, and i brought it into existence. on the weekend i'm gonna set up the solar panel to keep the backup battery topped up, i use it to charge my phone and laptop, which the kids would call solarpunk and i'd call cool as fuck to have a solar powered laptop.

in 2019 i stared into the void and realised there is no real future for me, for human civilisation as we know it, and i grieved and processed… i almost killed myself, but i didn't, and the years since have been the best of my life, no question.

so, no. don't kill yourself, now or in 2025 or at any point until you can't handle the torture anymore. "graduation" sounds young, real young, even if it's tertiary. i'm creeping towards 40, and the age that "graduation" conjures makes me think that you've got a hell of a lot of potential left in you, for fun and stupidity, and growing up, and finding love and heartbreak, and your version of wierd-arse synth music.

so go out there, prepare, and enjoy.

…

…..and for the love of all the false goddesses of the void, never, NEVER EVER again contact a random fucking blog on tumblr and ask if you should kill yourself. holy fuck buddy. the amount of pressure you put me under to deliver an emmaculately worded response that somehow talks you down from the ledge without lying, is way, way too much fucking pressure. i really hope you were being stupidly hyperbolic, but even then, Eris Fucking Kallisti Herself In Absurdist Pagan Blasphemy, so incredibly unacceptable to say to a stranger. i think you need a therapist, even if they do think you're catastrophising, because like. shit dude. this is abso-fucking-lutely not okay!

now go. prepare and enjoy.

[flash-the-readies]

Building a house in the sims 4 but every room is a different pink floyd album

I built this ages ago and it just now occurred to me that I could share this here. I was inspired by a lilsimsie video where she did the same thing except each room is a different Taylor Swift album.

So I built this shell of a house with 14 rooms (+ the exterior so 15 total albums) and then randomised an album for each room and decorated accordingly. Since I wasn't planning on actually playing in the house I didn't bother with landscaping lmao. Sorry for the awkwardly wide shots, I got lazy taking screenshots.

Anyways I suggest making it into a game by going through the photos first and trying to guess which album they are before reading. Let me know if you get them all and what references you catch

As a bonus I added the interior design styles I was vaguely inspired by

Here's the downstairs and upstairs floorplans

The exterior: I cannot make this up. I got the Wall, I was cackling

Style: I wanted English cottage but not in a thatched roof way.. in a Georgian way... and then I remembered I started complaining about Georgian cottages so I added more...shape and ended up with this... eh...

The Entryway: Ummagumma

Style: a bit transitional, she's homey, she's relaxed

I started off thinking I was going to make a relatively ordinary house

Downstairs hallway: Endless River

That basegame gradient wallpaper was actually perfect. This is the second room I did and slowly started dropping any pretenses that this was going to be an ordinary house

Downstairs Powder room: Momentary Lapse of Reason

Style: coastal but in an extra silly goofy way

THIS is where I finally decided to embrace the chaos. Unfortunately I didn't get a bedroom for this album but I actually like how it turned out.

The dining room: Wish You Were Here

Style: brutalism and minimalism

I'm actually obsessed with how this one (pls notice the grate behind the table)

The kitchen: Meddle

Style: Rustic, cottage

This was difficult...I was heavily relying on the colour scheme and references to the lyrics since the album cover looks like.. well... that...

The office: A Saucerful of Secrets

Style: 60s space age and Mid-Century modern

I was so thrilled to use that 60s space age chair

The living room: Obscured by Clouds

Style: traditional

I shared this with my dad and this room made him laugh.. I too was cackling while decorating it

laundry/utility/mudroom: Division Bell

Style: .......... fuck if I know

pls tell me you see the vision because this was a struggle

Upstairs hallway: More

Style: Spanish revival, Spanish colonial

uh... there wasn't much to do here but that's what I had in mind. Not pictured is a nice wooden chandelier above the stairs.

.......... I take it back. This was even more of a struggle

Bedroom 1: Animals

Style: Industrial

This is probably my second favourite room

Bedroom 2: Atom Heart Mother

Style: She's rustic, she's farmhouse

I HAD to use that topiary

Bedroom 3: Dark Side of the Moon

Style: If I had to choose one I would say contemporary even though it's not actually reflected in the room

Discover University actually came with a Dark Side inspired poster so I KNEW I would be using it

Bedroom 4: The Final Cut

pls tell me why the two kids' rooms ended up being colour-drenched in black..

(the bed is a military cot....)

Upstairs bathroom: Piper at the Gates of Dawn

style:... she's ...... eclectic

Saved best for last. The Sims has a gnome obsession and I FINALLY got to use them all

[racefortheironthrone]

Please innumerate for us the specialized problems of the library sciences.

Let me start with the caveat that my information is based on my experiences at the National Archives more than a decade ago, and policy has definitely changed on this front as we can see from this graph of recent digitization - apparently NARA wants to get to 85% digitization by 2026. (Even still, I'd note that the records of the WPA are <0.001% digitized.)

However, back when I was doing the research that would eventually become my first book, I remember being at the National Archives II building in College Park, Maryland (Go Terps!) and getting really frustrated that all the records of the WPA were only available in their original physical form and that all the guides and indexes were also in paper only and were all from the 1970s, and I asked the archivist why the hell the National Archives hadn't been digitized already.

This is what they told me: if it's handled correctly and stored in the right environmental circumstances, paper can last a thousand years. Carbon copies can last even longer, if they don't rip. (Seriously, the bastard things are like onion skins, they'll split if you look at them funny.) Microfilm is slightly more technologically advanced than paper, but it only lasts 500 years in the right conditions.

We've only had computers en masse since the 1980s, and already there's a huge amount of records (especially from the early years) that we don't have any more, because the hard drives got re-formatted due to higher costs of storage space back in the day, or because old computers got thrown out when they were replaced by newer models and the hard drives are all rotting in landfills somewhere, or because backwards compatibility broke down and we just can't read those file types on our modern computers, or because the actual data got corrupted on the disc, or because some legacy company is asserting copyright against a video game museum, or because some political hack and/or president of the United States decided to violate the Presidential Records Act.

While we thought that the internet would cause an explosion of written records from ordinary people on the scale of the advent of mass literacy, there are vast swathes of the early internet that simply do not exist any more because the servers got switched off when Geocities et al. folded in the dot-com bubble burst or when everyone migrated to Web 2.0, and the Internet Archive tries its best (bless its heart, affectionately) but it can't be everywhere and save everything.

As a result, the archivist told me, digitization is a fraught question: what file format do we use? How do we know that file format will still be compatible and backwards-compatible in 50 years? 100? Longer? Do we keep everything locally or store it on the cloud, and how do we ensure that the storage mechanisms won't fail if there's a blackout or a virus or whatever? Do we digitize everything now, or do we wait until optical character recognition improves enough to the point where digitized records can be searched for words and phrases? Etc.

Keep in mind, I am a public policy historian who studies the 20th century U.S - I work primarily with the official records and the central archives of the richest government in the world. From a library sciences perspectives, this is kind of an ideal scenario, and it's still kind of fucked up. (Let me tell you, the rage and grief I felt when I learned that most of the General File of the Public Works Administration was thrown away by the National fucking Archives and Records Administration in the mid-1950s because they were running out of shelf space in the D.C location and didn't think these records were important...)

Now imagine what it's like at a local historical society or a small liberal arts college, or the national museum of a developing nation for that matter, who do not have the resources for the kind of grand digitization project that NARA started doing five years ago. Think of the sheer scale of historical records that sleep, unseen and untouched perhaps for decades and perhaps for ever, in little cubbyholes all across the world. Among professionals, historical records are measured in linear and cubic feet - think about that for a second, how many pages of paper there are in a foot when you stack them up, and how many hundreds and thousands and millions of feet there are across the face of the world. Think of all the millions of feet of pieces of paper that have been lost to us because of fire or rot or war or time itself.

This is why Peter Turchin is a quack. Historical records are not a standardized little database for social scientists to plug their fucking spreadsheets into; historians don't play that kind of bullshit t-ball, with all our data neatly packaged and handed to us on a silver platter. Our profession is not a social science, it's a goddamn treasure hunt through boxes that were never catalogued or categorized (or that were re-catalogued so many times no one remembers how they were put together in the first place) to find writing that no one has read since the authors died. All of us know that our work, our understanding, will always be partial and limited, because memory is infinitely fragile and the very idea of historical preservation is a mad existential defiance of entropy itself. These records are real, they are fragile - to hell with the Library of Alexandria, remember the National Museum of Brazil? - and they are all that is left to us of the dead.

[skye707]

How would the Riddlers be giving a presentation to people for something?

(I'm definitely not dying of anxiety for next week)

Oh, is it PowerPoint night? I love these.

Unburied - He’s got this. Never had stage fright, so he just gets up there, does his thing, and knocks socks off. Gives a bow at the end and waits for applause. If he doesn’t get any, he tells the audience to go fuck themselves and leaves.

Presenting Rating All of Your Outfits

ZY - He has so many unnecessary charts and graphs, and the only reason they are there is to make you feel stupid. I’ve listened to plenty of presentations where this was the case, and there is nothing worse. Literally mic drops at the end of his presentation.

Presenting Quantifiably Sexiest Scientists From the 20th Century

Dano - Mask? Frothing at the mouth trying to get his point across and going on so many tangents. No mask? Little bitty mouse man who no one can hear speak. ZY shouts from the couch that he can’t hear him and to “talk louder”. Classic douchey audience behavior.

Presenting How to Incite Mass Hysteria Without Going to Prison

YJ - Also a little fidgety in the presentation, but at least he’s speaking loudly. Too loud? He was once told that he needed to project his voice, so now he does that to the max. Everything he says sOUNDS LIKE THIS.

Presenting My Favorite Toys From the 90s and Why

Gotham - Excellent little presenter. He’s got a laser pointer, a clicker, his suit is pressed. Do not ask him a question mid-presentation. Questions must be held until the end.

Presenting Forensics: The History of Murder

BTAA - Really old cringey transitions. It’s hilarious to listen to his animated speeches especially when the topic is shit like “Why Robots Are Not to Be Trusted”. If you listen to his presentation, you better be able to keep a straight face, because if he hears a single giggle, he’s coming for your ass in the crowd.

Presenting Why Robots Are Not to Be Trusted (Including Riddlerbots)

Arkham - It’s like listening to that one insane teacher give a lecture. Goes off on so many tangents that the initial topic doesn’t even matter anymore. Now, he’s telling you about the time he got away from a mugging with a Roman candle.

Presenting Destroying the Legacy of Thomas Edison in 30 Slides

BTAS - The most professional presenter to ever live. I imagine he gave presentations for video games on the reg, so this is just another day at the office for him. Only problem is his presentation is a little boring. Too many numbers.

Presenting Budget and Overall Success of Pac-Man

Telltale - This presentation feels like a debriefing before deployment on a life or death mission. This topic is that serious to him, so you better give it the same respect.

Presenting The History of the Blade: Ancient Warfare in the Modern World

(Good luck to everyone out there getting ready for finals. My heart and soul goes out to you, troopers)

[ruassurvivalkit]

I am Motaz Mohamed ❤ a palestinian youngman from Gaza🍉🇵🇸, seeking to find safety and peace ☝️for my family if twenty members. We have been ❤🇵🇸🍉passing through all forms of torture and pain for almost ten months because of the war on Gaza.

Life is very miserable and tragic❤🇵🇸 as we are now deprived ❤🇵🇸🍉of all means of living. Drink water, healthy food health care and medicine❤🇵🇸 have become things 🇵🇸🍉❤of the past. We are dying dear friends. That is why I am asking you to help us break through this tough situation.Life in hot tents is incredibly sad and miserable. We are now experiencing the worst circumstances we have ever had in our life. The war has stolen happiness and life from us.

Please don't leave us alone in such dire times. Your kind contribution either through donating whatever you can or sharing my posts will be highly appreciated and valued.❤🇵🇸🍉

Please go and help Motaz everyone!! War is fucking terrible and no one should have to go through it when so many people's futures and hopes and dreams were ruined over it. The conflict in Palestine has been going on for too long (since the mid 20th century) and we have allowed our inability to interfere to create more violence and let lives be destroyed. Unfortunately I can't donate due to financial issues, however I urge you to donate if it's possible for you <3 Please repost or share any posts you see to do with the conflict and keep yourself educated on what's happening in the world today. Be mindful and use the resources that are so readily avaliable in our modern world. We have access to just about everything if we look hard enough, however make sure to fact check etc.

I also want to take this time so say that hate towards Jewish people is intolerable. Just bc someone in Jewish, it doesn't mean they support the Israeli government and its disgusting to see Jewish homes, businesses and communities attacked due to the conflict. However, this doesn't automatically absolve anyone from fault if they support the Israeli government. By all means call out anyone who supports it.

Finally, I urge you to donate whatever you can to Palestinian families and spread the word about what is happening. Keep yourself educated, keep your ears and eyes open, and keep your hearts open to Palestine. Go support Motaz's family. Stay safe and much love

[queenlua]

"Eric Hayot also touches on this a bit in Humanist Reason, a book i think about surprisingly often given i thought it was kind of mid" never heard of this guy but whenever people say this about a book I'm immediately interested in what kernel they keep returning to

i typed up some thoughts on the book at the time i read it!

and, rereading that post now, i think that post does a reasonable job of gesturing at why the book has remained in my thoughts...

basically: the glimpse that book offers of the intellectual world of late-19th-century europe was interesting & illuminating in ways i've found surprisingly relevant for thinking about the modern world,

AND ALSO, as someone who would probably be superficially classed as a STEMlord by most onlookers, but who's generally felt a bit out-of-step with the cluster of aesthetic/rational sentiments that STEMlord-ism implies (a friend once said i've got "a head for logic but a heart for art")... i've always felt there is something self-evidently not only beautiful but meaningfully true about the humanities & humanistic scholarship, but. whenever i've tried to explain that meaning/truth to someone who doesn't intuitively "feel" it, i mostly end up feeling like a fucking moron lol

i don't think the book entirely succeeds but it made a better case than i could and made me feel like less of a moron for trying myself

[nfumbewalk]

Getting Easier

Intranquil Spirit love spell about a year ago. Elevation candle in white with blue glass cover. The little chime candle has oils and herbs.

I didn't expect this to happen, but writing my book is becoming easier! Hopefully this continues. Now, most of the pertinent information is on Tom's laptop instead of my Kindle, thank God! I thought I wouldn't make it for a while. Sometimes I still have doubts about myself and my writing...

I found another modern necromancy book released this year, released by the publisher I was thinking about. This person's book is a more "normal and acceptable" sounding necromancy book. My information is very different because I've had help from my guide and a Demon. Channeling isn't acceptable. So, I will have to change some things if I want to publish. I won't lie or be dishonest - I will just omit information. This modern "gentle approach" necromancy is fuckin stupid.

I'm never mean or harsh to muertos but please don't kill the practice with a stupid "white light and rainbows" or "I'm soooo dark and I'm swathed in black...I love the dead, mmmm.." thing either. Dude, I'm in black too but that means nothing in regards to my spirituality and my practice. I love white as well, but hell, I cannot stay clean! Lol!

I'm pretty sure now where and what my practices come from exactly. They are based in Espiritismo and some other interesting methods that I've intuitively picked up over time. The first is Espiritismo. This hails originally from France, originally from the mid 19th century. Allen Kardec founded it. But Muerteria is not nearly a duplicate of spiritist practices. This is just one of the influences of Muerteria. I learned from a Cuban man about muertos very closely and gathered so much knowledge from many other Spanish/Latino religo-magical experiences that have richly colored and continually developed my Muerteria practice. And now, I'm just learning the meat and potatoes of the Spanish language! 😆 Durrr...I swear, I'm not dumb.

I just put all of these origins together, too. Santa Muerte says, "Jajajaja! " Hey! Stop laughing, abuela! She's like, "Told you so." Easy laugh I am for her. Think she loves me because I'm not boring and I keep her amused. Swear to God! 😊 Our bond is different than other devotees, mainly because I do not pray to her. I used to and it felt wrong to beg. I've never felt right. We agreed on focused meditative statements. And it works!

I got beautiful red roses for Santa Muerte today and a Caramello bar. I picked up liquor for Santa, Rodolfo, and Biffy. Decided on tequila and brandy. Biffy said definitely brandy for him, he doesn't care for tequila but he will accept it. Rodolfo is like, "Uh, tequila, always, man." Santa Muerte always gets mezcal or tequila. I wanted to get wine, but it ended up being a hassle to go to the grocery store. All of this was bought via a wonderful tip/donation from my client. 💖 I really appreciate him.

Things are unfolding again!?! A feeling I just got. What is going to happen? I keep thinking of my father-in-law, Chuck. Oh dear. And my mother-in-law's (his wife, Tom's mom) birthday is on the 6th...I hope nothing happens! I'm concerned that Chuck may pass soon. His heart is very, very bad and he's 80. He's got stents, Afib, multiple heart attacks, God knows what else. He's on blood thinners, more than one. Fhhhuuuuccckkkk. Don't die Chuck! He needs Michael. I should ask Michael to watch over him. Or Tom should ask his angel, Cassiel. Chuck is Catholic, think he'd appreciate it much. Perhaps I should look into this by necromancy or my cards.

I wrote a whole diatribe here and deleted it! It got rather controversial and I did not want to lose followers because of my opinions. My reserved parents taught me that "Opinions are like assholes. Everyone has one." Hey - they were reserved but not delicate in speech! Cool boomers though. They never took any drugs, unless my dad snuck in some speed. Dunno for sure though my dad never really changed his behavior. Oh! I gave him some weed cookie late in his life - forgot! He turned so cheerful and talkative!! He said his pain was gone, too. So much for oxycodone.

Tom gave my mom a joint but she never smoked it. I would have loved to been able to have given her some chocolate. I'm positive it would have erased her chronic pain like it helps my cramps and nerve pain. But marijuana wasn't legal until after she died.

Well, done here. Hope something I wrote is interesting.

M.M. 💖💀💖

[bleachbleachbleach]

I kinda want to know what all the division couches look like now

My co-blogger wrote those tags, but I have two couch screencaps that have been sitting on my desktop since October with nowhere to go, so I'm going to steal this opportunity to share them. XDD

Couches are presently a topic near and dear to my heart, because I have been supposedly buying a couch for almost a year now, and have yet to do so. But it means I've looked at a lot of couches on the Internet, read a lot about couches, and have watched a lot of YouTube videos about buying couches. I've since decided that I'm going to buy my future couch at the furniture store that I pass every day on my way to work. I have never set foot inside it before. I have no idea what kind of couches they offer. But one day I'm going to drive up, buy a couch, and that will be that. I give up.

ANYWAY, based on what I have gained from this haphazard and somewhat grudging research project ( the only thing I have gained, as I still have not bought a couch), here is what I think is the best couch Bleach has to offfer:

FUCKING FIGURES it's Aizen's prison couch!!

Of course it is!!!

But it's a nice color, and the curve of the back introduces a nice break in the angularity of the rest of the space. It looks comfortable and easy to keep clean, with a mid-century modern look that is quite stylish. I seriously considered buying a couch that was very similar to this one, actually, and if I'd known at the time that it would bear resemblance to Aizen's Fucking Prison Couch that may have actually compelled me to go ahead with it. Bleach in the living room all day! But I ultimately didn't because reviewers said the cushion structure broke down too quickly.

Here's the second couch picture with nowhere to go, in the Kurosaki living room:

First of all, this house is massive. We already knew this from the size of Ichigo's room, but there's a whole sectional in here with ample room to spare! It's got this concrete furniture look to it that I guess people go for (though usually not the same people with warm-toned food floors and doors...) but also these awful 90s dusty rose cushions. The backrest looks comfy but the seat looks like petrified Spam. I hate this couch!

And here is what I believe to be most of the other B3 couch posts:

3rd Division (Plastic-Covered Couches)

6th Division (Byakuya's Decor vs. Ginrei's)

10th Division (The Many Couches Saga)

10th Division Furniture Ad (includes things other than couches)

Everyone's additions and tags on these posts are wonderful, so definitely be sure to read those for more couch discourse!

And some bonus chair posts:

12th Division Chair Areas (Grand Tour)

The Le Corbusier Chair Spread

[violetfoxsketches]

OC name meanings tag!

Stealing from @albatris :3

Rules: Search and post the meaning of your OCs’ names (if you made their name up or they go by a nickname, post an explanation of how it came to you)! Bonus if you can find something for their last name too

Emerald "Emmy" Acero:

"So, uh. Don't think I ever got the chance to give you my name. It's Emerald—" "—Like the gemstone?" "-Yeah like the gemstone. You can just call me Emmy though. Everyone else does."

Emmy's first name is pretty self-explanatory. His last name, Acero, is Spanish for Steel. His father, Orion Acero, picked it out when transitioning as a way to distance himself from his dead identity and any ties to Emmy's other father (whom has no idea he even is a father). Therefore, once Emmy was born, it became his last name as well. The only thing Emmy has even been told about his other biological parent was that he is a 'deadbeat musician' and that Orion didn't want Emmy to end up going down the same path.

OOC, Emerald was an import of my D&D rogue, Immeral (Immi), when I was invited to my first VtM game and had trouble coming up with a character thanks to Long Covid brainfog. What started as a modern clone of an existing character ended up evolving into his own being and is hardly recognizable from his D&D origins. The most notably being Emmy is an absolute heart of gold, dumb of ass. And Immi is a Lawful Evil dumpster fire. Which brings us to...

Immeral Ethanasath:

The character that would become one of my most replayed and AU'd to death (quite literally in most of his games) was a last minute randomly generated lawful evil rogue as a loyal subordinate for my buddy CerberusKnight's Conquest Paladin, Ajexs. Everything from his appearance to his subclass was randomly assigned in a scramble to have the character ready for a D&D one-shot. I had so much fun playing him I put him in a longform campaign to determine his origin story. Then COVID absolutely bodied me in mid 2020 and left me with less than stellar focus or creative function. I stopped playing spellcasters altogether because I couldn't keep up with the complexity and found it hard to create even new martial classes that didnt feel like cardboard cutouts. So I played Immi again. And again.

As for how he got his nickname, English is not CerberusKnight's first language and he had a lot of trouble pronouncing Immeral, often adding a 'd' to the end and accidentally calling him 'Immerald'. So we made it canon that Immeral loves nicknames because Common is also not his first language, so he told the paladin Ajexs that he could just call him 'Immi' as long as Ajexs let him call him 'A.J.' in return.

So of course, you can see where once I imported him to a 'human' setting, 'Immeral' naturally became 'Emerald'. I've only just recently gotten into a place of recovery where I can create new characters again, but I've been playing iterations of this disaster since 2019 and he holds a special place in my heart.

And as far as I know, the name means absolutely nothing and in canon, Immi picked it out himself when he hit a century old, aka elf adulthood.

Javier Andres Peña:

Emmy remembers the little message he found once he was awake again. Scrawled on a sticky note and left stuck to his cracked phone screen: Don’t walk home by yourself anymore, okay? —Javier

Javier, the Spanish derivative of Xavier, means 'new house'. Andres is a derivative of Andrew, meaning 'manly' or 'warrior' (hilarious, considering this man is the walking personification of toxic masculinity). Peña originates from 'de la Peña' or 'by the cliffside' or 'by the rocks'

I can't take the credit for this one. Javier started as a backstory character for Emerald (the one responsibly for Emmy's turning, specifically) created by that game's Storyteller. However, the original version of that game flopped horribly and I left it after being treated quite poorly by the storyteller and one of their players. Myself and two other folks from the game liked our character interactions so much we decided to split off and keep running the game, set in a new city. And of course, Emerald ended up reaching out to his renegade ex to escape one court and arrive safely half a country away.

Javier's role ended up being upgraded from a backstory character to a proper NPC by @zeeseal, but while sorting out Javier and Emerald's history, Javier ended up becoming our shared brainchild. Our beautiful disaster son. And of course, Emmy endearingly refers to him as 'Javi'.

I finally got a chance to play Javier as a true PC when I was invited to a game set in 1982 Melbourne Australia, as Javier's backstory included being turned in the 1980s and it seemed fun to explore what he was like before he became jaded with his new lot in unlife as an eternal 20something. I often poke @zeeseal for her input on how our terrible terrible son would react to certain things for the first time and the game has been a blast so far. Especially being American and playing an American character stuck with no home and no money in Australia with other Australian players/PCs and Storyteller.

As for tags, I'm sniping @bludoods, @whispering-jabberwocky @mayaminamoto, @sayonaramidnight, @raceofhearts and @ichithecupcake.

(And anyone else who wants to do it)

[milkywayan]

hi. could you recommend medieval literature? thank you :)

uuh, yes i can but that really depends on the fact if you can understand german! i dont know if there are english translations of it (i read them in dual language editions, with middle high german and new high german) - i only have read one book that is not german

But in case you can, here are the ones i read in the past year (the not german one is the last one):

Collection of poems by Walther von der Vogelweide - one of the most famous german speaking minnesänger, lived from 1170 - 1230, and has stolen my heart with his diss tracks to the pope; author of the Famous 'Palästinalied' written as propaganda during the crusades

Collection of poems by Neidhart von Reuental - another important german speaking minnesänger, born around 1180/90, so a younger contemporary of Walther, sings a lot about the 'stupid peasants' and how they try to emulate life of the nobles (great fun, the peasants hated him); the Neidhart persona was very self depricating, depticting an unlucky knight; my favourite song of his is 'Meie din liechter schin'

Der Ackermann by Johannes von Tepl - probably one of my absolute favourite books ever, written in the early 15th century as a story for a friend of Johannes von Tepl, who himself was an educated man from northern bohemia; technically already early new high german and not middle high german; the story is a dialogue between a man and death - the mans wife has just died and he starts insulting death, demanding to bring her back. it goes back and forth, and they discuss life, death, humanity creation, god and grief. i loved it

Ein kurtzweilig Lesen von Dil Ulenspiegel - written around 1515 by an anonymous author in early new low german; german speaking people are more familiar with the modern name Til Eulenspiegel. I grew up with the modern adaptations of the story, but the late medieval ones are so, so much more crude. it is a collection of short stories, telling the tale of Dil Ulenspiegel, a silly boy/young man who does silly things. a medieval comedy, nothing profound. the original print has nice wood cut illustrations. it was widely popular, because medieval people could read (although they couldn't necessarily write)

Parzival by Wolfram von Eschenbach - written around 1200-1210 in southern germany, picks up athurian legend. i am half way through and have personal beef with wolfram. but it is good, a lot of depictions of noble life and medieval morals and ideas. makes A LOT of references to other writers of the time, including Walther von der Vogelweide, Gottfried von Straßburg (see next book) and Hartmann von Aue (see below)

Tristan by Gottfriend von Straßburg - written around 1210, is the german adaptation of the tale of Tristan and Isolde. I have not read it yet, but the books are on my shelf to be read as soon as I am done with Parzival

Erec by Hartmann von Aue - written around 1180/90 is said to be the first arthurian story written in german and an adaptation of the old french Erec et Enide - same as above have not read it yet

Iwein by Hartmann von Aue - second arthurian story, written around 1200, also adaptation of the old french story - same as above i have to still read it

The tale of the two lovers by Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini (future Pope Pius II) - written in latin (there are english translations!) in the mid 15th century for a friend while at the court of Vienna, this is the most famous medieval erotic novel we have! It is about a married woman falling in love with one of the holy roman emperors men while they visit the town in italy she lives in, and the spicy affair they end up having, probably based on a similar story that happened. Aeneas lived a wild life and was old beyond his age, having 2 kids with two different women in two different countries out of wedlock and being a well travelled poet. he also hated women, like, A LOT. after he became pope he wanted to supress the circulation of the book, but is was a best-seller so it didnt work evidently, as i have read it in the 21st century

In addition to that, as a historical fencer I also read the sources, but these will be boring to people who dont care, but here are some anyways:

The Art of Swordsmanship by Hans Lecküchner - most famous source for Langes Messer techniques

Das Fechtbuch by Albrecht Dürer - yes, THE Dürer wrote a fencing book, completely in verse with nice illustrations!

Jude Lew - his fencing manuals are also nice, no illustrations only text

Hope this helps in a way.. again, i read mostly german medieval literature, so idk if this is useful as idk if any of these books have been translated

[aboutanancientenquiry]

Divine phthonos (”envy”) and divine nemesis in Herodotus’ Histories

“Abstract

The description of god as phthoneros (‘envious’, ‘jealous’, ‘grudging’) in the works of Pindar, Aeschylus, and Herodotus has played an important role in the later understanding of archaic and classical Greek religion. This paper explores the genesis and development of several interpretations of the Greek concept of φθόνος θεῶν that have arisen since the Renaissance, and how these relate to wider debates on the relationship between Christianity and ‘paganism’, including the ‘jealous God’ of Scripture. I outline three principal approaches to the topic. First, a Platonizing or Christianizing interpretation whereby divine phthonos is god’s moral disapproval of human ‘hubris’, impiety, or arrogance and thus a form of ‘divine justice’; second, a ‘Paganizing’ interpretation, whereby divine phthonos is an immoral resentment of human success or simply a hostility towards humanity, and represents an essential difference between the ‘moral’ theology of Christianity and ‘amoral’ pagan theology; third, a ‘developmental’ explanation posited in the late Enlightenment (and later popularized in a different form by anthropologists and philologists) as part of a thesis for the religious development of mankind as a whole. In this third view, divine phthonos was initially an ‘amoral’ emotion, felt by the gods of ‘primitive’ religious systems, but the concept was ‘purifed’ in the course of the Greeks’ theological development, so that divine phthonos became a ‘moral’ response to hybris. By exploring the intellectual climate which gave rise to each of these interpretations, I trace the origins of the tacit but total disagreement over the meaning of ‘divine phthonos’ in classical scholarship today, and encourage a return to the long-standing debates about a theme at the heart of Herodotus’s Histories and our understanding of Greek religion more generally.”

  “ Conclusion

I have necessarily been both selective and reductive in my discussion. There exist many subtle variations on each of the interpretations outlined, a wealth of detail and baroque complexity which few would wish to see exhaustively described. What emerges is a remarkable polarization of the interpretation of divine phthonos by the mid-nineteenth century between, let us say, ‘Platoniz-ing’ interpreters of classical Greek theology and their ‘Paganizing’ opponents. Although at every stage the ‘Platonizing’ or ‘Christianising’ interpreters dominatethe academic field, each party elaborates exclusive visions of divine phthonos in line with their wider interpretative concerns, which is to say their vision of ancient Greece, Christianity, and the course of religious history. In the late nine-teenth century a new interpretation arose capable of combining the two visionsinto a unifed theory of man’s religious development—one that could place an individual author like Herodotus (depending on the scholar’s inclination) on either side of the line that divided archaic, primitive, low, or crude religious thought from modern, developed, lofty, or refined metaphysical reflection.Thus, while Greene and Dodds agree with Lloyd-Jones in the developmental view of divine phthonos, both situate Herodotean passages in the ‘unmoralized’ phase—with the occasional ‘germs’ of a moralized theology- 158 whereas Lloyd-Jones places Herodotean divine phthonos entirely in the ‘moral’ stage. Although this constitutes one of the major points of disagreement over the theological and literary readings of the Histories, the scholars involved give no indication of the considerations that lead to their conclusions.159

Scholars in the latter part of the twentieth century and the early twenty-first have tended, again depending on their wider interpretative concerns, to base their literary or theological analyses of the Histories on one or another of these three interpretations of divine phthonos without explanation. Scholars of religion who urge the theological ‘inconsistency’ of Greek authors, for example, interpret divine phthonos in the classic ‘immoral’ terms proposed from Geinoz to Asheri, which are assumed to be logically exclusive of the ‘moral’ or ‘just’ notion of divine nemesis mentioned by elsewhere (e.g., by Herodotus at 2.120.5).160

Scholars working within post-modern literary studies, by contrast, tend to seek neater structural polarities. A common approach, in the case of Herodo-tus, is to argue that ‘divine justice’ is the hermeneutic key to the work and to either ignore divine phthonos or to treat it as a synonym of ‘divine justice’ (in an interpretation similar to that offered by Meuss).161 The notion that Greek authors might attribute a base emotion like ‘envy’ or ‘jealousy’ to god continues, with surprising regularity, to be rejected out of hand. Remarkably, much scholarship produced in the apparently secular academic establishment of the twenty-first century endorses a view that was, in the nineteenth century, the expicit contention of Christian apologists for Greek pagan literature: Herodotus considers god to be wholly, above all, and without exception ‘just’. This assumption is protected by either ignoring or reinterpreting those aspects of the Histories which would seem to present the gods as hostile to humanity or as the cause of arbitrary human suffering. Herodotus (and his conception of god) is thereby defended from his Platonic detractors in much the same way that the Church Fathers (and their followers) defend Yahweh from criticizm of his ‘jealous’ and ‘grudging’ behaviour in the Genesis narrative.

For over two centuries, then, divine phthonos has been a symbol of two opposing visions of ancient Greek theology. Today it continues to divide—although the traditional interpretations have been largely separated from their roots in the theological controversies of Christian humanism. If we are to attain a clear perception of this recurrent idea, used by the first classical historian as the theological and literary framework for human history, these debates must be re-opened. In the mean time, exploring them seems to reveal less about the classical Greek notion of φθόνoς θεῶν than it does about the close, but contested, relationship between ‘pagan’ and Christian thought in the intellectual history of Europe.”

Abstract and Conclusion of the article of Anthony Ellis “The Jealous God of Ancient Greece: Interpreting the Classical Greek Notion of Φθόνος Θεῶν between Renaissance Humanism and Altertumswissenschaft”, in Erudition and the Republic of Letters 2 (2017), Brill, pp 1-55

On line source with the whole text: https://www.academia.edu/30860705/The_Jealous_God_of_Ancient_Greece_Interpreting_the_Classical_Greek_Notion_of_%CE%A6%CE%B8%CF%8C%CE%BD%CE%BF%CF%82_%CE%98%CE%B5%E1%BF%B6%CE%BD_between_Renaissance_Humanism_and_Altertumswissenschaft

Anthony Ellis, Bern University, Institut für Klassische Philologie Department.  He trained as a classicist at the University of Edinburgh, with a PhD on religion in Herodotus' Histories, particularly the role of the gods in human history. His postdoctoral work at the Warburg Institute and at the University of Bern focused on the reception of Herodotus and Pre-Socratic religion in the Renaissance and the early-modern world, as well as on ancient Greek and Hebrew notions of divine envy, jealousy, and begrudgery (source: https://www.legejosephum.unibe.ch/about_us/personen/ellis_anthony/index_eng.html ).

This is a very interesting and debated topic. My personal point of view is that the concept of divine nemesis as punishment of human hybris dominates Herodotus’ Histories, although one can also find in Herodotus some cases of inexplicable suffering sent to some mortals by the gods.