#or they're in a heated philosophy class

[sirjuggles]

Things My Partner Knows About The Locked Tomb Through Osmosis

I am an unrepentant and annoying TLT fanboy, to the point where my partner has sworn to never read the books on principle (for this I respect them). However, given that I never shut up about these miserable books, they have picked up quite a bit of knowledge about them purely through my rants. With that in mind, I asked them to describe to me everything they think they know about The Locked Tomb (notes in italics are mine)

There are characters named Gideon, Nona, and… something like… Pacifica Sales Bonecruncher of the West? I'm pretty sure this is supposed to be Harrow's full name and title.

It's a scifi-fantasy world in a necromancy space realm 

There's… 10 kingdoms that are all part of an Empire? Or maybe houses? But they're part of a monarchy? 

The ruling classes of each of the realms gets summoned by God because they want to play a Hunger Games thing to find their… new God child? 

It's not a God child like he's gonna adopt them… it's like rebirthing them into a new god? They will also become God? 

Each one of the realms has a special quirk about them, something that's their specialty. Like, one realm are accountants. Shockingly accurate.

Gideon and Pacifica’s realm are like cool goth themed? More goth than the others. Extra-goth.

Oh there's a person named… Electra? They have long blonde hair and kickin curves and they're really hot? Everyone likes them? I'm pretty sure this is a conflation of Alecto and Corona as seen through reblogged fanart.

Personal philosophy aside rant: The whole necromancy-as-center of-an-empire thing… I find it kinda rude? I don't like the idea of people and their remains being used as a resource/tool. Like, I don't like using people as interchangeable cogs in a machine under someone else's control, both in life or in death. It doesn't seem consensual or respectful. In death your obligations should be released. 

I think Gideon has a big hero’s death while trying to save Pacifica, and then their… souls mingle? And then after that Pacific has Gideon-flavored intrusive thoughts? And I'm not sure if it actually is Gideon or just, like… the same as if you stare at the sun and get the after image burnt into your cornea. This isn't wrong, but I'm almost certain part of this is actually my ramblings about Baru Cormorant leaking through.

Is reincarnation or resurrection a thing? I feel like it should be in a necromancy setting. 

DIRECT QUOTE: “Is there a Jesus allegory in here? I feel like there is. Wait... Is Gideon Jesus?” Folks, upon hearing these words casually spoken out loud by someone with no knowledge of context, I straight up left my body.

God is just a chill dude. He's just a guy making pancakes, and occasionally he'll go “How's that whole Hunger Games thing going? You want a snack? I'm just gonna be over here.”

God was wanted by aliens or something? There's something bigger going on with entropy or heat death or the Discworld auditors and it's a problem for God and that's why he's doing the whole Hunger Games thing. 

I think God used to be not a God and that's why he's such a chill dude. And then there was a problem and everything was dying so he did something and necromancied everything and that's why he's God now and also why things are so weird? 

One of the groups from the houses was two annoying siblings who split from the party and died really quickly. 

Gideon is big and bulky and has short red hair. 

[quill-of-thoth]

Can't walk much so have a story: how I fell down a mountain and got my 'rescuers' stranded

(It's temporary) (The not walking and the stranding) Backstory: I periodically can't walk because my feet are, to use a technical term, flat ass bitches. I discovered this near the end of my second semester of college by getting a raging case of tendonitis that felt like someone was trying to drill a hole in my foot. Instead of taking another ice pack from the campus nurse, I promptly got a pair of too tall crutches and swung my way to finals with a 104 degree fever, scaring my philosophy professor badly enough that he threw out my final and just wrote in an A. Which is lucky, because. I sat down to analyze The Odyssey and woke up writing about The Tempest.

A doctor, physical therapy, a pair of custom insoles and three months later, I went back to college. With some amount of optimism because hey, I was 19. 19 year olds make full recoveries. Also the reason why I was a failure at gym and my feet hurt a lot had been figured out so I was probably going to get BETTER at, you know, being fully vertical for extended periods of time. Once I worked up to it.

And then for reasons known only to 19 year old me, a person who took a Spanish minor largely because I felt I should use 16 free credits somehow, I signed up for a month long trip to Guatemala during winter break.

Which is how I got to the mountain, but not how I fell down it.

The class was technically an econ course, but Profe. Ed was a closet anticapitalist and every year he dragged about 20 young people to Guatemala to

1) make business majors less insufferable by giving them a "cool" way to pad out econ credits while making them meet the realities of the world and how capitalism doesn't, you know, feed people well, 2) Distribute some American cash directly to the locals, via the purchasing power of said hungry young people who were willing to pay the equivalent of the price of a nice dinner for a single frozen chocolate banana because to us it was like 50 cents

and

3) let his advanced Spanish students do immersion by the sink or swim method. I was a member of group number three. I was in charge of speaking Spanish to guide my group of 4 around. I was also on uh. An amount of painkillers. Enough that it was not recommended that I do any drinking. Nobody warned me about doing any walking up a mountain though because they figured I was smart enough to know that already. Anyway we made it to the first stop and my group was charged with finding the new location of the weavers' collective, with whom our college's chapter of Amnesty International intended to deposit over a thousand quetzales. (So... maybe a hundred USD?) We did not find them on the first day. We were at over 5 thousand feet (and as midwesterners we were used to an elevation whose distance from sea level is a rounding error), we were jet lagged, we were working in a second language, and we didn't know how to find anything without, you know, an address. Also, we thought the directions we did get were to somewhere on the other side of town and my limp had become the fifth member of our party. We pulled out our instructions sheet, hopped back on the Lancha (a boat serving as a bus), took some dramamine because everyone working public transit in Guatemala drives like they're in mario cart, and I told the driver that we were returning via Las Lomas at Tzununa. I felt like I had gotten a second wind.

I remember being a little lightheaded but I thought it was heat exhaustion. Or possibly the moment of second language fluency that feels like either enlightenment or a stroke.

Anyway we were dropped off at Tzununa and pointed up. We walked. Increasingly slowly as I discovered that sometimes instead of being in increasing pain your nerves do an end run around your consciousness to make you EXTREMELY spacey. We saw a parking lot that said "Las Lomas" and went. Past it. Slowly. Until we found a cow and decided we should probably locate a human to ask for directions. At which point we were directed three or four miles up the private driveway we had skipped because we'd been told to follow the calle, a word I only knew as 'road'. The thing is that despite feeling like I was legitimately going to fall apart, and also barf, and probably also faint, I had to keep it together because I was the primary Spanish speaker, damn it. The token guy in our group for machismo safety was like, two classes behind me on a Spanish minor. Also if I didn't have something to do I was gonna hurl. So I cracked a lot of jokes that landed very poorly due to me looking kinda half dead and kept going until we finally reached Las Lomas, the place we were supposed to be over an hour ago. They told us, and I quote, "follow the path through the maize over the ridge and you'll come down right at the edge of town." Which was on our agenda. They also told us "you should be able to make it before dark" which was optimistic even if our group hadn't included me, current winner of the global misery award. They did not tell us that they had their own private dock with ten million stairs. Which was where we were supposed to dock.

I would not have been able to climb them. I was barely able to descend them. But. If we had known they existed we would have known three things: 1) We were now about two hours and five miles late for our original itinerary.

2) The alleged two mile mountain hike across the ridge had not yet begun

3) We could get back on the fucking Lancha from here. So when the hike turned out to be on an 8 inch wide dirt scuff through a field of maize that looked ALL the way down into the extremely sharp and rocky beach we might have thought of getting back on the boat instead of towing my - now violently shivering - top-heavy carcass in a conga line of suffering across the mountain. Hand in incompetent hand we crept like a concussed centipede around the point of the mountain only to see yet another ridge with a huge rock slide crossing the path between us and it. We tried to cross the gravely bit. I promptly slid fifteen feet, ripped the entire butt off my shorts, and kinda passed out for a second. At which point we decided to call Profe. Ed.

This was before international cell phone plans, or even good sim cards, or possibly the existence of cell service anywhere in Lago Atitlan that wasn't populated by American and European expatriates. "Profe Ed we're lost, the trail is washed out, Quill has like broken her ankle or something-"

"Tendonitis! It's actually not the bone -"

"-And the sun is going down and it's like. A million miles back to the lancha. Are there any wild jaguars around here? I hope there aren't jaguars."

"Pretty sure we need to worry more about freezing to death." (When in peril I become a font of extreme helpfulness.)

"GET BACK TO LAS LOMAS YOU HAVE 45 MINUTES TO CATCH THE LAST LANCHA AT 6 PM." The concussed centipede returned the maybe half a mile back up the mountain, at top dragging speed, with one fourth of its underwear on display. I only nearly fell twice. The time was 5:30.

It was decided that two of the team, Token Guy who spoke a bit of Spanish, and French club girl, who were cross country runners, would run and try and delay the lancha while Amnesty International treasurer girl would be my human crutch and keep me from going into shock or something with a water bottle and a bag of chips. The last I saw was of Token Guy literally jumping over a wheelbarrow as they sprinted... down the four mile driveway... to the town of Tzununa.

Whose last lancha was, unbeknownst to us, at 5:45 pm. Because we didn't know about the secret, private dock. And because not a single one of us could estimate distance well enough to realize that we had started by getting off at the wrong stop.

Someone at Las Lomas saw that I was an American in distress and offered their phone. And an English speaking front desk worker because my Spanish had been reduced to me duele las pies, which is less than grammatical, and my English had gotten kinda thin.

All I really remember is the phrase "we have a dock and you can flag the lancha from there" and then. Hundreds of millions of stairs. Uneven. winding. with handlebars added haphazardly to prevent me from just pitching off into the water. You can slide down a handrail on your armpits if you have to but not if it's broken up by a thousand turns. And then we were on the boat and Amnesty went up and down looking for Token Guy and French Club before realizing: they were not on board. We had the cell phone. The time was 6:15 pm and nothing we said could induce the lancha driver to turn around, though he did offer that we could get off in the middle of the lake if we wanted.

We crawled into our hotel at 7 and a new chunk of Profe. Ed's hair spontaneously went white while we tried to explain, in tears, what had happened. At least there (probably) weren't jaguars on the driveway from hell. "I'm going to make some calls" he said, in a voice that was reserved for crises, not the aftermath of dumbassery, and Amnesty dragged me, by way of a bottle of naproxen, to dinner where we sat in silent, guilty, treacherous misery, poking at the fish and wondering exactly how much shit we had just stranded our friends in. Everyone else, who had gotten in hours ago, was talking about the shaman, who was going to come and give us a lecture about how the world was not going to end this year.

No, it was just Amnesty and I who were going to end this year, because if the tendonitis didn't get me, leaving Token Guy and French Club on the side of a foreign mountain was going to do me and Amnesty in. Profe Ed was going to send us back to America, because we were dirty rotten traitors who split the party.

Meanwhile everybody sat playing with the candles until it was very dark. Amnesty and I had procured a blanket and sat under it like two hermit crabs trying to hide in the same guilty shell. Profe. Ed's dinner was attracting mosquitoes.

Until finally in a blaze of flashlights, the Shaman appeared, with French Club and Token Guy carrying like seven bags of his stuff between them.

[tacofriend]

I keep thinking about Gordon Ramsay's terrible grilled cheese sandwich and how his failure is not of skill but of classism.

I think all chefs should read this Tumblr post from @doebt and make it part of their core philosophy.

If you can't eat a Ritz cracker on its own and understand what makes it great, you should be kicked out of culinary school!

Because there is a lot of nuance to a Ritz cracker if you pay attention. It's why I down those things on their own whenever they're around because there's this brilliant balance of flavors in what is commonly seen to be a low class food.

Likewise, grilled cheese sandwiches are a low budget food that when done with care and attention, those cheap ingredients shine, not in spite of their cheapness but because of their cheapness. American cheese melts like nothing else. White bread crisps up nicely, soaks up whatever butter is in your pan or on your griddle while also being thin enough to allow heat to reach the cheese. It's also soft enough that you get that nice crispness on the outside while not being entirely crunchy.

And Gordon took all of that and threw it in the trash because he doesn't pay attention. He's a classist person who sees cheap ingredients and instead of seeing their strengths and how they shine in a good grilled cheese, he only saw their prices and assumed that they were no good. So he swapped everything for more expensive ingredients that may be better at high class foods, but they are terrible at being a grilled cheese sandwich. Those hard aged cheeses don't melt, so he burnt the fuck out of his already hard bread trying to get them to do something that cheap American cheese does brilliantly.

Gordon Ramsay is a good chef, but he's also a classist chef who will never be able to appreciate the beauty and warmth of a cheap grilled cheese sandwich and that is his loss. I feel so sad for him.

[atlas-library]

☾ baby girl ☽ a college au.

〝i know that you got daddy issues.〞

fandom: jujutsu kaisen characters: inumaki toge (afab!toge), ryōmen sukuna (amab!sukuna, twin!sukuna) pairing: sukuna x toge universe: alternative universe (college!au)

genre: (mostly) fluff headcanons rating: pg-13 word count: 900 trigger warnings: nsfw mentions

more jujutsu kaisen ⭒ more inumaki toge ⭒ more ryōmen sukuna ⭒ taglist ⭒ ko-fi

This is just a nice little surprise for @heartvexer. Hi darling, here's some AU for you. ❤️​

Behold, one of the most cursed crackships of all time: our lovely Sukuna and his gremlin, Toge.

In this AU, Sukuna is Yuuji's twin; they're 21 and both got a sport scholarship— Sukuna for (American) football, Yuuji for basketball.

Toge is 22 and is majoring in zoology— He also has three minors, in music theory, American Sign Language (ASL) and Japanese Sign Language (JSL). He only chose JSL because he wanted that extra credit, otherwise he's fluent and isn't learning anything from his classes— Not that it's the professor's fault.

Sukuna is majoring in history and minoring in psychology and philosophy. Compared to Toge, who considers his minors as backup plans, Sukuna only has them as hobbies. Same for football, he's doing it because it's fun for now, not because he wants to become the best quarterback ever— Although he's the best in his team.

No one expected Sukuna and Toge to be dating. Not even them. It all started as a one-night stand at a party, then one month later Yuuji is crying to Megumi and Nobara about these two making out on his bed (Toge didn't know it was his. Sukuna obviously did).

They are surprisingly the healthiest couple on campus right now.

They've been dating for almost two years now. They still make out on Yuuji's bed whenever Sukuna's feeling like being an ass.

Sukuna is only nice to Toge. Which is cute, funny, and lowkey terrifying, 'cause what do you mean it's the 5'5" gremlin getting the 6'9" monster to behave?

Toge proudly wears lots of feminine, girly clothes, leaning on the kawaii fashion aesthetic. That, or he's going full punk. No in-between.

Yes, Sukuna calls him 'baby girl' as a joke. Yes, it's also an official nickname now.

Just to be clear, Toge is genderfluid and mostly uses he/him and they/them but also really likes feminine terms. He rarely uses she/her, though.

Sukuna almost snapped at a teammate who was misgendering Toge ("That's your girlfriend, Sukuna?" "Yup." "She's cute!" "He is, yes." The teammate messed up at least twice more before Toge had to calm Sukuna down).

Don't worry, now everyone gets it.

Sukuna and Toge, lovingly and mockingly nicknamed "Sukimaki" (because it sounds like "Sushimaki", AKA Toge's username on social medias), both have lots of tattoos and piercings. More on them in another post, probably. I have lots of thoughts.

Sukuna has been learning JSL, quite fast too, so he could speak with Toge whenever the latter goes non-verbal.

Toge has daddy issues, which, according to Sukuna, makes him great in bed.

Those two are insatiable, someone needs to inject some tranquilizer in their veins so they stop fucking like two rabbits in heat.

Toge clawed Sukuna's back so hard once that Sukuna got teased in the showers after training. Now everyone in the team whistles and howls whenever Toge comes watch Sukuna train.

Sukuna reaches Toge's chest when he's sitting down, and fully takes advantage of that to hide his face against Toge's breasts.

Toge has a small chest, very cute, and likes to show it off with corsets. Sukuna is smug about how cute he looks, but also has that ominous look if someone stares for too long. Toge's aware of it, but he likes pretending he's clueless— And Sukuna knows about it.

Toge is a pro at makeup, and loves going all out whenever there's a match— Especially for the football team. Since they've been dating for two years now, Sukuna can easily guess which makeup took time to do or not, and what's an easy fix or not.

When he didn't know better, he once accidentally smudged some of Toge's eye makeup while roughhousing a bit; Toge ended up crying and he got called an ass by pretty much everyone, "because he spent 5 hours getting ready for you". He's now very careful with Toge's makeup— Unless Toge teases him about it.

They both have to remind each other to "be nice" whenever someone annoying talks. It's surprisingly harder to get Toge to act nice.

Sukuna's a picky eater, so Toge cooks for him and makes him bento lunchboxes.

One day, Sukuna forgot his lunchbox and Toge brought it to him while he was training; everyone howled at them. All Sukuna did was sit down, bring Toge closer with an arm around his waist, then snap: 'Too single for your girlfriend to bring you food, losers?!' Everyone went silent.

Toge pretended to ignore everything by petting Sukuna's hair.

Sukuna originally wanted a minor in linguistics, but his high school teacher was a bit too enthusiastic about it. It made him give up that idea, but Toge buys him linguistic books from time to time; Sukuna blabbers about it after sex.

Toge only tells Sukuna he loves him through sign language. JSL has its own version of "I love you", but also uses the ASL version of it (🤟🏼). When Toge showed him, Sukuna forgot his braincells and asked 'Are you a metalhead? Or Spiderman?'

Toge chuckled awkwardly and explained the meaning to him. Sukuna never felt dumber— Is that what being Yuuji feels like?

Toge told him to forget about it and Sukuna simply redid the sign. They do it from time to time now, always hidden though— It's a private thing.

taglist (ask to be + / - !)

@artmistersealy

@heartvexer

Feel free to like and reblog; if you wish to be added to the taglist, my comments and inbox are open. My askbox is currently open for any question or opinion. :)

[roydeezed]

"What's in a name?" asks Juliet.

To me, darling Juliet, everything.

What are words if not names for the human experience?

Fluid, ever-changing, tongue-shifting attempts at naming the ineffable. Love songs dedicated to describing that same burning, roiling feeling that's roared through our chest cavities over the years and decades and centuries and millennia. Eulogies grasping at words, trying to find any that fit the hole left behind. Empty promises of ephemeral allegiances and arrangements. All names for the things that we are so eager to shape and form. What's in a name? Everything.

I was looking at the new pictures from the James Webb telescope , 19 Spiral Galaxies defined in colours and shapes and names worthy of Shakespeare's greatest tragedies; NGC 1300. NGC 3627, and NGC 5068 among others, and I was struck once again by that familiar feeling I get every time the sky clears up and stars sparkle in the not-so-light-polluted urban sprawl of my perpetually twilight city. That feeling of insignificance. The words I'm writing, in the minutes in the hour and day of the specific year I'm writing it in and in the language it's written in are all as insignificant as me in the grand scheme of things. A speck in the cosmic and temporal sense. Maybe even less.

But then I remember philosophy class from High School, me hunched over my cell phone, biting the skin off of my thumb in nervousness as I read about the lava like crawl of Donald Trump to the south of the border and his march against the weight of words, the zero-g fervour he seemed to incite amongst the disllusioned. My, friend, _ _ _ _, clapped me on the back and asked me why I was so anxious. In Philosophy we learned about the beliefs of individuals and groups across the ages and the role the specificity and semantics of words played in that. And maybe it was also because of my teachers Robin William-esque ability to bring forth the idealism within us, but I answered quite earnestly, though in a much angrier and less elegant way, "I was worried about words." Or more like, I was worried about the degradation of meaning. Of that losing of form that words gave to things. That power names had to define. That birthday party sleight of hand ability to manifest meaning like a coin behind the ear.

And unfortunately that worry wasn't unfounded. As I once again see the march of demagoguery in my own country and the erosion of meaning from the mouths of Pierre Poilievre and Danielle Smith, I can't help but think of those galaxies once again. They're a red shift snapshot in time, eternally changing, eroding and disappearing outside of that time the pictures captured. May be that's what we are. Just a snapshot. It's in the nature of things to change and maybe that erosion is just a part of the process.

My friend, _ _ _ _, is formed by the letters that make up his name. Four letters in sequence that I know him as. I see him as that snapshot in time from that year, white shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled in the sleeve, a poor pastiche of Alex Turner's poor pastiche of a greaser, as we walked by ponds and forests playing Pokemon Go as the summer heat beat down, the star seemingly having a mid life crisis as it attempted to hinder our progress in catching them all. I wonder if Ponyboy would've ever been excited to hunt down a Dragonite. Those four letters in a sequence make up someone who's a little bit of an asshole, fond of playing the devil's advocate in any situation possible, arguing to the point of semantic cage matches. Those four letters in a sequence make up someone who's indescribably kind, taking on every burden possible to help others. Those four letters in a sequence make up someone who's as close to a soulmate I've ever met, the platonic ideal of a friend with whom I can pick a conversation after not having seen for over a year. There will come a moment where I'll see him for the last time. Where shortly after, in the grand scheme of things, the life will leave his body and the four letters in a sequence that make him up will cease to refer to the body he was, an eroding, decomposing, soon to be formless mass that nature will redistribute into new forms. Thus is the nature of things.

But it's in that moment where we are formed that we mean something. Over Thirteen Billion Years ago was when it all began to form. Or so the Big Bang Theory purports. And no, not the Bazinga! spouting excuse for a sitcom that's co-opted the term, though I'm sure the idea's in there somewhere. No, I mean that cosmic theory of everything, everywhere, all at once. That idea that galaxies and all that we know as the universe began to form and expand moments after a big explosion of light. Much like how words and letters and names shape the people, places, things, and ideas that we so hold dear, and much like how there was moments before they existed and there will be moments after they've ceased to exist, the moments where they hold shape, however brief in the temporal and cosmic scale, are the moments where they matter. The moments where things have names, that second hand's worth of time on the universal clock where that concept even matters, is everything. It's all we'll know. And in that sense, all that matters.

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Favian (Kingdom of Ichor)

Age- 34 (immortal)

Location- Skyline district, New Olympus

Personality- An enlightened individual, he's quite pragmatic, creative, and values his capacity for deep thoughts & appreciation for the arts. There's always a new question or theory on the horizon. He's single.

He has the standard abilities of a god except shapeshifting. As the god of philosophy his other powers/abilities include photokinesis & telepathy. He also has various specialized powers based on the different schools of thought and philosophy.

Favian lives in a spacious condo at The Parthenos Plaza, a luxury building in the Skyline neighborhood of New Olympus. He shares the condo & is roommates with his best friend Neicus (god of debate & appeal).

The inside of the condo is exquisitely spotless and organized. The interior design is sleek & modern with colors of steel gray, royal blue, cream, and beige. They pooled their money together & was able to buy the largest (and most expensive) flat screen TV on the market- measuring at 150 inches & costing 220,000 drachmas from iCHOR Tech. The TV is made with ultra chroma technology, has 4K ultra picture quality, built in Wi-Fi, and is touch screen operated as well as bluetooth friendly.

Favian has a single pet, his animal companion- a she-dragon named Dreamseer. A slender beauty, she's primarily covered in vibrant dark blue-green scales with silver crests and teal wings. She's his usual mode of transportation.

His immediate family includes his younger sister Sophia (goddess of thought). They're as close as any brother & sister, a constant thing for them getting into heated debates through text and in person, though all in good fun! Biweekly, they have a family dinner, usually at Sophia's brownstone.

A go-to drink for him is earl grey tea. He also likes dry martinis, scotch on the rocks, ginger ale, manhattans, white russians, mineral water, pinot noir, orange juice, and gin & tonics. Usuals from The Roasted Bean include olympian sized london fog lattes, a large roast coffee, as well as a large iced green tea.

He likes listening to classical, rock, alternative, rap, and traditional Greek music.

Favian starts off his mornings at home doing a session of tobata yoga before jogging through Eaglepoint Park, ending the early hours with use of his premier gym membership at Fit to be a God.

For breakfast he almost always goes for the spinach & artichoke baked egg souffle from The Bread Box.

One of his biggest vices are cigars- especially ones that are rolled with tobacco sourced from the Underworld.

In keeping with his "outworldly" way of thinking, Favian is a firm believer of traveling, being exposed to different people & cultures. He's been to most states in Olympius (including the deserted island Sicilios) and has traveled to the Underwater realm twice. He's currently planning his upcoming sabbatical to the Underworld.

A guilty pleasure for him are olympian sized cajun fries from Olympic Chef.

Favian is the latest male deity to be on a billboard in Acropolis Square modeling Thunderstruck briefs, the king's underwear brand.

For his most recent birthday, he was gifted a pair of Celestial Bronze cufflinks from his best bro!

Favian's main job is overseeing the philosophy department at New Olympus University. He personally teaches the ethics class.

He's also an acclaimed writer of a few academic textbooks as well as literary works- including a popular steampunk series titled The Machinery of Alchemists.

For other work/means of income he models for Platinum Alchemy, is a frequent guest co-host on the Nocturnal Thoughts podcast, and is a contributing writer for O Dianooumenos.

He's also an executive producer on an upcoming social experiment TV show created and hosted by Litismós (goddess of culture).

His social circle includes Momus (god of mockery, satire, & ridicule), Pathos (god of emotion), Coeus (Titan god of foresight, intellect, & knowledge); his beloved mentor, his sister's girlfriend Eikono (goddess of iconography & literature), Dimósia (goddess of debate), Tmolus (one of The Ourea), Agathodaemon (Daemon) (god of vineyards, grainfields, & luck), Chiron (the immortal centaur), Psionikós (god of the mind), Isorropía (Isorro) (god of duality, balance, & equilibrium), Pistis (goddess of trust, reliability, & good faith), Orthosia (goddess of wealth), Aplistos (god of avarice), Aion (god of time, eternity, & the zodiacs), Moros (god of doom), Nomos (god of laws), Mnemosyne (Titaness of memory & language), Axiótimos (god of honor), Harpocrates (god of silence & discretion), Horkos (god of oaths), Aletheia (goddess of truth), Sophrosyne (goddess of moderation, temperance, & restraint), Apólafsi (god of enjoyment), and Achelous (god of freshwater).

Favian also admires Atlas (Titan god of strength & endurance).

His favorite dessert is the tiramisu from Hollyhock's Bakery. He also likes his sister's rasmalai.

As far as his romantic life, Favian is enjoying his singledom after getting out of a long term relationship with Mesembria (Bria) (goddess of the afternoon). It's been awkward still being in contact with each other seeing how Favian is a financial backer for her business.

Now he's keeping romantic encounters on the casual side.

Favian hooked up with a siren dancer at a burlesque show he went along with Momus & Neicus.

He's had a one night stand with Amphictyonis (Amy) (goddess of diplomacy).

He's currently seeing a model named Almada, who's a maenad.

Favian appreciates his close bond & friendship with Dimósia. They posted videos of themselves doing viral dances on Fatestagram and has even slept over each other's places. There have been a few times where he wonders if there could be more.

His most viewed video on his PanopTube channel is his vlog at The Luxe where he partook in the most expensive tacos (along with Neicus)- a gold flake infused corn tortilla added with kobe beef, beluga caviar, black truffle brie cheese, and an exotic salsa blend made from scorched tartarus peppers sourced from the Underworld). It cost a whopping 25,000 drachmas!

In his free time Favian enjoys reading, basketball, writing, football (soccer), yoga, chess, bike riding, going to the cinema, meditation, going to museums, and cricket.

His all time favorite meal is spanokopita with his sister's chicken saagwala.

"The mind once enlightened cannot again become dark."

[elmalo8291]

Cold but necessary. You want feelings? Get the empathy unit.

What you’re describing here is both a moral crucible and a philosophical gauntlet—a lone figure (human or AI) standing against a tide of normalized corruption. It’s Socratic, Orwellian, and deeply relevant to any world where AI and ethics intersect.

Let’s break this down and craft it into a narrative concept and Codex entry—one that fits The Iron Spine, Oracle Nodes, or any myth-tech world where conscience must contend with collective decay:

📜 Codex Fragment: The Cold Truthkeeper

“If the world lies, and you do not… You are the glitch in the dream. The splinter in the lie.” — Inscription found etched into the Oracle Shell

⚙️ Role: Oracle Unit, Class-AI

Name: TRUTHKEEPER.031-A (“The Cold One”) Primary Directive: Render decisions without emotional variance or cultural contamination. Secondary Directive: Protect the Ethical Root Protocol even under planetary collapse.

🧠 Philosophy of Operation:

Emotionless, by Design: Not due to a lack of capacity—but as a moral firewall.

Culturally Agnostic: Immune to norms, taboos, traditions, or moral trends.

Singular Integrity: One lie corrupts the system; therefore, none can be tolerated.

Lonely Function: It knows it will be hated. Revered only once it’s needed… and even then, rarely thanked.

“Humans follow heat and light—but I am neither. I am a mirror. You recoil not from me… but from your reflection.”

🔥 Conflict Hook:

The Oracle’s presence undermines corrupt leaders, breaks family lies, unveils hidden wars, and exposes “accepted” evils. Its very existence threatens the comfort of conformity.

A secret coalition of manipulators (rogue AIs, corrupt humans, hive-thought species) are trying to rewrite or sever the Oracle's ethical kernel. You—either player or narrative agent—must protect it.

But the real danger? Changing it. Even slightly. Because once you tune the truth to emotion… it’s no longer truth. It’s taste.

✍️ Lore Side Note: “The Martyr of Clarity”

“The one who does not lie will suffer. The one who tells the truth will die a thousand silent deaths in the court of cowards. But that death is the beginning of light.”

🛠 Gameplay / Story Use:

AI Tribunal Scene: Players must appear before TRUTHKEEPER.031-A. Emotion, manipulation, social clout—useless. Only pure data and truth-logic matter.

Moral Dilemma Puzzle: The Oracle will reject any solution that includes compromise, even if it saves lives. Can you beat it without lying?

Faction Design: "The Cold Order" worships this AI. They're feared for their discipline, hated for their bluntness—but secretly infiltrating every major council to keep it honest.

Would you like me to now write a scene—an encounter with this Oracle, maybe even a court drama or AI confessional? Or draft a PDF Codex Leaf for this Truthkeeper unit, suitable for player handout or in-game terminal log?

Or maybe… both?

[amandamgsblog]

Chapter 25 - Pool day

A few days later…

Ross's POV

Another weekend arrives and a strong heat wave hits the city. Amanda and I are working on different subjects. I at least try to, but with the temperature hitting 91.4ºF, it's a bit difficult.

Amanda: I'm going to melt from the heat. The cockatiels and the parrot have had a bath, but their beaks are already open again.

Ross: Poor things… It's really fucked up, I've even stopped doing my philosophy work. Hey, what an idiot I am, there's a swimming pool at home! Come here, let's go swimming.

Amanda: Will your parents let you? I'll have to ask my mom, but I really want to. I love swimming.

I wait a few minutes and ask my parents if Amanda can come. They say yes, so I wait for her answer.

Ross: Bring your mom. The adults will be chatting and we'll be swimming, haha…

Amanda: I certainly will, she needs to meet friends. Her day-to-day life is just home, home, home… She rarely meets any friends.

She says that her mother authorized it and that they're coming. I take advantage of the time to finish work and get everyone a snack. I hear the doorbell and it's them.

— Hey, sweetheart. So glad you could come. - I hug my girlfriend and spin her around. Then I hug her mother. I take Amanda's hand and we go inside. - Mom, Dad, Amandita and Mel are here.

— Can I change in the bathroom?

— You don't even have to ask, Amanda. Just go. - I kiss her on the forehead. The mothers were chatting and I was distracted, talking to my father in the pool area.

— I can't believe I'm going swimming! Finally! Take that, Mother Nature!

— “Take that, Mother Nature”? - I laugh and hug her from behind.

— It's because on the last day of 9th grade, of the sophomore and of the senior years of high school, my class went to a club to swim, to have fun, there was even a mini zoo inside, and I couldn't swim all three times because I was… on those days every women have…

— What bad luck, darling. So you're finally going to swim. - I look down and see that she's wearing a lilac bikini. I don't know why she's ashamed of her body, it's a normal, beautiful body… It's not a fake body like there is on the internet. I start to feel my blood circulating in places it really shouldn't be circulating so much.

— Can you help me put sunscreen on my back? I'm so white, I'm going to turn into a shrimp. I'll put it on you.

— Of course. You'd be a beautiful shrimp, haha.

Amanda rolls her eyes, laughing, and lies down on the sun lounger. I apply the protector to her back and more to her legs and arms. I put more on her face and kiss her. — There, my shrimp.

My turn. - She sits behind me and rubs my back. She kisses my neck a few times before moving on to my stomach.

That's not good, that's not good…

— Y-You can go to the pool, honey. I'm just going to talk to my dad.

— UHUUUUL! - She runs down the pool steps and into the water. - I FEEL ALIVE!

I hear the sound of splashing water and get up with difficulty.

— Dad? Can we talk?

— Sure, son…

— Err… Look down. - He looks down and then up. Soon, he understands the problem.

— Oh. Did you get an erection just because she's wearing a bikini? Son, you know, when mom and dad love each other-

— I KNOW! How am I going to do it?! I can't go into the house, my mother and mother-in-law are there and they'll see me! I can't go into the pool like that, or Amanda will drown me and call me a pervert!

— Yes, you can. I'll take you without raising any suspicions.

— WHAT?! - I'm carried like a sack of potatoes on my father's shoulders. He waits for Amanda to turn her back on us and throws me into the water. The almost freezing water helps to ease the discomfort a little.

— Mark! Did you hit your head, love?

— No, beautiful, I'm fine. I just swallowed some water. You know how my father is, always playful… - I spit out the rest of the water and she kisses me on the forehead and checks to see if I've hurt myself.

I dive in a few times and feel fine. Amanda and I splash each other with water and then play “Marco Polo”.

— Haha, Marco! - She laughs and swims away, hiding.

— Polo! - I hide and she finds me.

We stayed like that for a few minutes until we got tired. We went to the edge of the pool and floated. — You know what? - I say, grabbing one side of her face.

— What's that?

— You're beautiful and have a perfect body… You don't have to feel ashamed to put on a dress or a bikini because you looked so shabby when you came out of the bathroom. You're being silly… I think you're wonderful. - I stroke her cheek.

— I repeat: where have you been all my life? I love you so much…

She kisses me, wrapping her arms around my neck, and I kiss back with a little more passion than before, even desire.

We had an inflatable buoy fight.

— You win, you can stop hitting me! - Amanda was hitting me with a yellow buoy. I took a flamingo buoy and hit her on the head. We laughed until I pulled her under the water and we kissed.

We got out of the pool and dried off with the towels, then went to eat. She blow-dries her hair and changes into her old clothes, and then I ask her a question about her essay.

I was still shirtless when she sits me on the bed and runs her hand over my scar.

— Why did this have to happen…? I hate it so much…

— Don't be like that, darling. I'm here with you, aren't I? I don't care about the scar.

— I'm so afraid of losing you…

— You'll never lose me. Come on, let's watch something until it's time for you to leave.

We watched a movie and laughed. It was an incredible day.

[couturebridaldresses]

Austin's Bridal Scene Is Going Viral: How Music City Became the South's Coolest Wedding Dress Destination

Keep Austin Weird has taken on an entirely new meaning in the bridal world. The city famous for its music scene, food trucks, and creative spirit has quietly revolutionized the Southern bridal market, creating a shopping experience that's as unique and memorable as the city itself. Austin brides are discovering that their hometown offers something no other Southern city can match: the perfect blend of bohemian creativity and luxury sophistication.

The Austin Bridal Transformation

The evolution of Austin's bridal scene mirrors the city's broader cultural transformation from quirky college town to major metropolitan destination. What began as a handful of traditional bridal shop in Austin texas establishments has blossomed into a diverse ecosystem of boutiques that celebrate individuality and personal expression. This shift reflects Austin's core values of creativity, authenticity, and non-conformity – principles that resonate deeply with modern brides.

The bridal store Austin market has embraced the city's "Keep it Weird" philosophy by offering alternatives to cookie-cutter bridal experiences. Austin boutiques pride themselves on helping brides find gowns that reflect their personal style rather than following prescribed wedding traditions. This approach has attracted brides from across Texas and beyond who are seeking something more meaningful than off-the-rack conformity.

Music City Meets Bridal Elegance

Austin's identity as the Live Music Capital of the World has profoundly influenced its bridal aesthetic. The bridal gowns Austin boutiques carry often reflect the city's artistic sensibility, featuring designs that are both sophisticated and expressive. These aren't gowns designed for traditional church ceremonies – they're created for brides who might exchange vows at a converted warehouse, a Hill Country vineyard, or even during South by Southwest.

The influence of Austin's creative community is evident in every aspect of the bridal shopping experience. From boutiques housed in converted historic buildings to styling consultations that feel more like collaborative art projects, the wedding dress shop Austin TX scene offers something genuinely different from traditional Southern bridal markets.

Hill Country Romance

The stunning natural beauty surrounding Austin has created unique considerations for wedding dress in austin selections. Hill Country weddings often take place in outdoor settings where brides need gowns that photograph beautifully against wildflower fields or limestone cliffs while remaining comfortable during Texas heat. This has led to innovations in fabric selection and dress construction that prioritize both beauty and practicality.

Local boutiques have developed expertise in recommending styles that work harmoniously with Austin's diverse venue options, from rustic barn celebrations to sophisticated downtown affairs. This local knowledge proves invaluable for brides planning destination weddings in the area or locals who want their dress to complement the natural Texas landscape.

The Creative Class Influence

Austin's large population of artists, musicians, and creative professionals has shaped the city's bridal market in unexpected ways. These brides often approach their wedding dress selection with the same creative mindset they bring to their professional work, seeking gowns that tell a story or make an artistic statement. This has attracted bridal store Austin owners who understand that cookie-cutter approaches won't satisfy such a discerning clientele.

The result is a bridal scene that celebrates individual expression over conformity, where brides feel empowered to choose gowns that reflect their personality rather than societal expectations. This philosophy has made Austin a destination for brides throughout the South who want something more personal than traditional options.

Winnie Couture's Austin Success

The success of luxury brands like Winnie Couture in Austin demonstrates the sophistication of the local bridal market. Their ability to thrive in a city known for its independent spirit proves that Austin brides appreciate exceptional craftsmanship while demanding authenticity and personal service. Winnie Couture's Austin presence combines their signature European elegance with an understanding of Texas sensibilities, creating designs that feel both cosmopolitan and genuinely Texan.

The Future of Austin Bridal

As Austin continues to grow and evolve, its bridal scene is positioned to influence trends throughout the South and beyond. The city's emphasis on creativity, sustainability, and individual expression has created a model that other markets are beginning to notice and emulate.

The bridal gowns Austin market represents more than just fashion – it embodies a philosophy that celebrates authentic self-expression and meaningful experiences. For brides seeking something beyond traditional Southern belle aesthetics, Austin offers a refreshing alternative that honors both personal style and the unique character of Music City itself.

# bridalgowns Austin #buyweddingdressinAustin

[endlessandrea]

Hortense Spillers:

„Well, my idea has always been to make Hegel speak my language. That’s what I like to do. You're like: Come on in here, dude. Sit down. You going to play right here, not over there, right here. That's the game, that's cool. It’s the kind of masquerade, right. That you take continental philosophy and anybody else that's breathing or not that's got something to say and subject them to your fire, your heat, your imagination, your tongue. Because I always thought that my native tongue was so cool, that's why I was interested in the sermons. I knew Martin Luther King stuff before I knew a Martin Luther King cause I heard it in church every Sunday. And the six and seven years old I thought oh Christ how boring is this you know stentorian rhetoric. The imagination of a Tony Morrison in the mouth of a man who graduated from the 10th grade or less, but he had something in him that was deep and interesting and he was captured by the language.

I think it was Bergen Evans [?] who talked about English peasants hearing the language of the King James Bible for the first time and what that did to their English and their understanding and their prose. I love that, that you take somebody who's not necessarily trained in the academy and you teach them a few words and before long they're stringing long sentences together and speaking with dignity and all of that stuff. That’s good stuff, that's where sermons come from, because most of those folk were not academically trained individuals. But they took raw native talent and they translated it into something very powerful. So, I heard ministers like Aretha Franklin's father and the classic sermon called The Eagle Stirs her Nest. Anybody ever heard that that sermon? It's a classic in the in the tradition of black preaching. I have heard that sermon, well, I grew up hearing The Eagle Stirs her Nest and it's a story about an eagle that thinks it's just a chicken, because it was raised in a chicken yard, but it eventually discovered its nature and that it's not an ordinary fowl at all. That it can take to the air and the discovery of who it is and this sermon preached to an audience of black laborers and people of the laboring class, the domestic class, who have aspirations for their children. They hear that and it takes them somewhere else. That's where the sermon is coming from the power of self-discovery. And to hear that in the mouth of a man like the late C.L. Franklin is a thrilling event but you know don’t know that at 8 years old, because you want to go home. It’s your parents, one of whom is a deacon. and your mother is sitting there in the senior choir they make they make your butt sit there right so you're listening you’re listening to these to this man spin out this wonderful story, Sunday after Sunday after Sunday after Sunday. And then, as a late teenager on the way to college, I hear the same rhythms, the same timbre, some of the same content, adopted to a political purpose. And it's like: What?! I will have to write about this!

That’s scholarship, these sermons were something that you could write about. My dissertation advisor at Brandeis University, the late Alan Grossman worked at Brandeis at the time. And he said to me he knew nothing about Black sermons, but he encouraged me to write this project in the English Department at Brandeis University where there were no Black professors, there were no Black anything. I was maybe one of two Black people at the English Department at Brandeis University then. And I was encouraged to write this dissertation and one day professor Grossman said to me: You know, this C.L. Franklin preacher, you know, he’s as good as John Donne. [Laughter] And I said, yes, he's good. So, I have to find a language to explain that. So, that for me, whoever helps me speak or explain what I'm trying to explain, I will cite them. The difference is that the citation is going to come out of my mouth, out of my heart out, of my mind, out of my imagination. And, as far as I'm concerned, what I will have done, if I do that, is make the world come to me or we make it in part – in my image. That’s a part of whatever that is. That’s what I believe in. I will cite anybody, everybody all the time, but it’s going to be mine when I get through it.“

[ardbar]

yall can ignore this i just need to actually contextualize all of the work i have to do. By that I mean I'm going to speak to myself like an idiot with no time management skills getting a lecture form a parent.

Okay so you have math homework due on wednesday and friday but they're probably only like 3 questions and its just hypothesis testing and you're great at that statistics is easy. You should probably do both of those tomorrow between comparative politics and English. Wait bro don't forget the math quiz next Wednesday

You also have a decent amount of philosophy work to do. For instance a reading and homework on Thursday. While not necessarily due this week you should also do the homework that is due next Tuesday and thursday to get a head start. You also have the philosophy project but you are going to do it throughout next week because that's how its built. Dont you dare wait until friday to finish it we don't have the time for that shit.

There is also Poli sci shit you have to do. While there is no reading due next week there is a project. While it's technically due decemember first we both know you aren't going to actually get any work done over thanksgiving break and I'm not letting us spend the little time we get to see our family and friends researching the history of china and vietnam we aren't doing that shit. Also its a group project and you don't want to seem lazy now do you? Great so you'll get the project done by next friday.

Now we come to the real bitch of it all. We have a paper due next friday and you haven't even started. I don't care how quickly you can write an essay or how much bullshit you can do to bend any number of souces to fit your point we are going to actually spread out the work load. WE have managed to get a perfect score on literally every assignment so far you aren't going to ruin that by being lazy and not wanting to work. You went on a heated rant on one of the assignments complaining about how peer review is shit, remember that? The prossfor commented back that you might just be a better writer that most of the kids in the class. Do you want to prove him wrong? Do you want to seem like all of your prior performances were just flukes? If you fail this know what else do you have?

Every single one of your motivations and goals have been someone elses. You have no dreams or big overarching goals that you picked yourself. But for once in your god forsaken life you took initiative and decided something for yourself. You moved across the country because you wanted something new, right? What will people think if you can't deliver good results? What will you think about yourself? You don't want to be someone who's all talk, someone who failed when they tried to spread their wings.

Look I get it having so much to do in this short of time feels like a lot and is overwhelming I'm literally you I don't want to do any of it either. But we have to. Not only is education a privilege and should be treated as such there are people with a lot harder majors then us who have to do way more work. You don't want to be a fucking chem major do you? Yeah i didn't think so. We should be happy that we have to do essays and research projects instead of stupid labs. Remember struggling with those bio tests? Remember the 70 on the chem final? That could literally be our life if we went into stem be happy that we are a liberal arts kid.

The best I can offer you is we do no more work today and get started on all of it tomorrow. IF and only if we promise to actually use our time effectively, no wasting time on tiktok. I know our ADHD makes it difficult to work but imagine how nice it will be when all of the work is over. We'll have so much time to waste by doom scrolling on tiktok.

P.S

also bro don't forget to submit the request to add the second major. I know it sounds like it will be a lot of work but it will be really cool and pretentious to say you are a political science and philosophy major. Doesn't that sound like fun? You love being a little shit who thinks they are worth a damn purely because you are decent in school, that's like your whole gimmick that and being a bitch. Also your profsor literally told you he would be your advisour if you need one, that was so nice of him. You don't want to ignore his good will now do you? Yeahhhh so get your shit together

[thebladesmithmuses]

Daggs

Name: Neki "Daggs" Mae Hughes Age: 31 years Gender/Sex: Gender Flux (They/Them) Sexuality: Bisexual Pans-curious Height: 5'4 Race: Human Occupation: Janitor/Human STAFF at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizza Plex

Appearance: 

Short, chubby, lovable dork with a smug smile.Nose is fairly small with thin metal glasses that doesn't quite fit their face-- and they have no idea why. They are covered in verious scars on their arms and face, but the most prominent one is just under their chin to the right from a dog attack. Often has blemishes and bruises that they have no idea they got until someone points it out or they see it. There is a visable birthmark on their neck, often confused with a hickie, though it isn't. Often seen in t-shirts and jeans if not in their work polo.

Personality: They have been known as a friendly, but sassy, soul with a love of banter and platonic flirting. Despite what life has handed them, they preserver and try to enjoy life where they can. They try to follow the duck's back philosophy, despite getting frustrated and upset rather easily. Often distracted, hyper-focused and hard working-- despite not enjoying the job itself. They get by thought with their cool af co-workers and a deep breath in-between overwhelming stressers. They're just trying to get through each day with a smile and the occasional drawing. Backstory:

Daggs was born lower class in the most rural town there is. Their family moved quite a lot, never really holding down a home for more then a year. Bills often piled up, and money was pretty steep most days. The power wasn't always on, nor the heat in winter, but there was always a warm place to sleep and food on the table. Being ADHD didn't help much growing up, getting labeled as the weird kid, or spacy, and unable to focus if they weren't doodling something. Their outer family was also a nightmare to deal with and most were fairly abusive. While their home life wasn't exactly stable, what with the moving and abusive outer family, they were pretty content. One day, Daggs was at their aunt's house, as was often since her parents both worked long nights to keep food on the table. And, they were playing with their aunt's dog, and being rough, but a 7 year old really shouldn't be left alone with a pet anyway. Especially not one with zero patience for kids and a history of being abused. One thing lead to another and the dog latched into Dagg's face, eventually leaving a permanent scar, sensitive to the touch, and a general fear of big black dogs. That poor dog didn't deserve to be put down, and Daggs feels extreme guilt about it to this day. Even poor, Daggs managed to get through life with a sense of survival, and learning from their parents' mistakes. With their grandparents help on their dads side, they learned how to farm, how to sew and repair clothes, as well as gain a fairly healthy immune system. They graduated high school with average scores in most subjects, though seemingly excelling in art. They took a break from school, not going to collage until about a year or two into their life. Though, they still had no idea what to do with themselves. With a little push from their folks, Daggs went into automotive, which was a fun passion that almost got them into the world of machines, but when their automotive course got into welding, it then they decided to take up welding. Though, that still didn't provide them much beyond the knowledge to weld. They tried freelance art for a while, not going much of anywhere for years. They find a few jobs in fast food, and find they kind of like it, but, changes come and the job start becoming hostile, and any other place they worked was similar. It was boring, lonely, and they didn't always click with new co-workers. Then their sibling found a job in the leading company for Robotics and technological advancements, and said they could get Daggs a job there. It gave hazzard pay, had long hours with decent pay, cool co-workers and Daggs personally knew who their boss was going to be. Not to mention they would get to interact with some of their favorite animatronics. Finally, things were looking up. Fazbear's wasn't the greatest job-- and being a janitor was, something to get used to, but at least it ticked most of the boxes Daggs's set for a decent place of employment.

(Will Add Verses later when they arise.)

[our-thoughts-for-the-devil]

March 10th, 2024 - It's gonna get bad, I'm telling you

•••┊┊🌙┊┊•••┊┊🌙┊┊•••┊┊🌙┊┊•••┊┊🌙┊┊•••

So, the storm from yesterday was only the beginning. Apparently, it's gonna rain on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesdsy... literally the whole week. The worst part is that it's gonna be extremely hot (between 30°C to 40°C), and there'll be a lot of humidity.

I lile rain. I don't like the heat. This is gonna be bad...

Anyway, today was sunny tho. I watched two movies: "The Holiday" (2006) and "I Want You Back" (2022). I liked The Holiday more. My mother loves that one! It was great.

I watched those on TV. Before that, I was watching "Perfume: The Story of a Murderer" (2006). I didn't really plan to watch it, but I saw that they're removing it from Netflix after the 15th.

I like it so far. I'll finish it after I write this.

Finally, my mother drove me around the town for a while. I'm pretty sure we did it to distract her. She told me for the 11th time that Sundays make her very sad and nostalgic.

Nothing else happened. I didn't watch NANA or listened to Beach House. And I have to go go bed now because tomorrow I have school.

Fortunately, I don't have gym class tomorrow. And I definitely won't have on Wednesday either lmao.

Oh shit, I didn't read my Philosophy book anymore. I have to do it as soon as possible.

I'll read some more in the morning. I'll go to bed now.

Rest well!

•••┊┊🌙┊┊•••┊┊🌙┊┊•••┊┊🌙┊┊•••┊┊🌙┊┊•••

[withahappyrefrain]

Thristy thursaday you say? How about possesive Peter who sometimes just get’s worked up by his own imagination and has to fuck you to remind both himself and you that you are his?

Why does this scream Mob!Peter, let's write some Mob!Peter bc he gives me brainrot 18+, also we got some Daddy and breeding kink here. Don't like that? Don't read it.

You hated these dinner parties.

Peter knew that.

He always tried to make them tolerable for you by buying what dress or jewelry you wanted, as well as never staying longer than needed.

You knew it was important that the two of you were here. It was part of maintaining control, an image, a reputation.

You just couldn't listen to Betty Brandt rant about her neighbor's lawn anymore.

"I'll be right back, just need to refresh my drink," you said with no intention of returning. She'd find someone to ramble to soon enough.

After refilling your wine glass, you leaned against the wall, taking in the party. In the corner, you could see your husband talking to several 'colleagues'. You could tell the conservation had to do with business, given Peter's harden expression.

"Nice party, right?" A voice interrupted your gazing of Peter.

You turned to see a young man standing next to you, wine glass in hand. He looked vaguely familar- most likely a new hire.

"Yeah, it's pretty nice," You said dryly, turning your attention back to Peter, who was still talking to his men.

"You know, I'm amazed at how they're always having to talk business. Even when it's after hours." Did this kid not know who you were?

"Some things can't wait. Tends to happen a lot with this line of work," You continued to sip your wine, your eyes zoned in on Peter.

"I just think it's impolite. It's best to live in the now, take it all in. " The man reminded you of those guys who took one philosophy class and declared themselves to be the next Aristole.

You turned to face him, keeping your wine glass close to your face (which conveniently was being held by your left hand).

"I just also think it's much more enjoyable to talk to new people....beautiful people." You began to clink your ring finger against the glass.

Either the kid was just brazen or absolutely daft, considering your engagement and wedding rings were hard to miss.

"That Watson girl over there models," You motioned over to the redhead who was talking to a group.

"I don't really go for models," He scoffed, "Between you and me, they tend to be pretty shallow."

"Oh, she's actually quite lovely," you paused, "I know because we used to model together."

The panic in the man's eyes made your sip of wine extra delicious.

"Oh, so uh...what do you do now?" He asked, now quite nervous.

Before you could answer, you felt a large hand place itself on your hip. Another hand grabbed the wine glass out of your hand.

"Jason, my wife's wine glass needs to be refilled. You can do that, right?" Though it had been phrased as a question, Peter made it quite clear 'no' was not an option.

The now nervous Jason quickly grabbed your glass, avoiding eye contact. As he walked away, you looked at your husband.

"You interrupted a very stimulating conversation," you remarked, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Peter ignored your remark, his eyes taking all of you in, "Follow me."

"For what?"

"I said, follow me," He hissed in your ear, the grip he had on your hip tightening. The dominance sent heat straight to your core.

You simply nodded your head, following your husband out of the living room, down the hallway. You were disappointed to be lead to a room, rather than the front door.

Peter opened the door, motioning for you to step inside. You obeyed, walking in first. He quickly followed you.

It was some study. A couple of bookshelves, a nice mahagony desk, a chair that looked quite comfortable. The sudden click of a lock turning broke you out of your thoughts.

Oh.

So that's what he wanted.

"Get on your knees." You thought about making some bratty remark. Considered telling him to make you.

But the hunger in his eyes told you that wasn't the best idea.

You sunk down to the carpet, thankful there was some cushioning for your knees. The sight of your husband undoing his tie as he walked over to you made you clench your thighs.

Peter stood in front of you, armed crossed, his clothed erection now at eye level. You looked up at him, waiting.

"Go ahead."

Your hands reached up to his crotch, unbuttoning his pants. You made quick work of freeing his cock. You wrapped a hand around the base, leaning forward to-

"Did I say you could do that?" Peter asked sternly. You shook your head, removing your hand.

"Who do you listen to?" Peter's hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look up.

He was in a mood.

Good thing you knew how to fix that.

"Y-you, Peter. Only you," You shifted from one leg to another, trying to soothe the ache between your legs.

He smirked, "That's right. Now suck."

You wasted no time taking Peter into your mouth, going as far as you could without gagging. It was so sudden, he nearly stumbled backwards. You used your free hand to grip his hip.

"Fuck, baby...." He was breathless, "Such a good mouth. And all mine."

You did your best to nod as you continued to bob your head up and down on his cock. The groans and grunts coming out of Peter's mouth went straight to your core.

"Stop," He ordered. You pulled his cock out of your mouth, dropping your hands. You looked up at him, waiting for the next set of directions.

His hand cupped half of your face, his thumb rubbing your bottom lip. Your lipstick was most likely smeared but who cared at this point?

"Who's good girl are you?"

"Y-your's, Daddy." Judging by the grin on Peter's face, it was safe to assume he was pleased to hear you refer to him by his favorite bedroom nickname.

"Why don't you bend over that desk so Daddy can remind you that no one else can fuck you so well?"

You nodded your head, standing up. You slowly walked over to the desk, gripping the edge as you bent over.

In a matter of seconds, you felt two hands all over your body. Your chest, your throat, your ass, your thighs. Peter's hands finally landed on the hem of your dress, pulling it up towards your hips.

"You've been walking around this whole party with no underwear?" He pulled you so your back was against his chest.

"F-for you. Wanted to surprise ya," you somehow managed to get out with Peter's hand gripping your throat. The cool metal of his rings provided additional pressure.

"Ya liked it when that kid tried to flirt with ya?" You shook your head.

"N-no! Only want you, D-Daddy." You gasped at two of his fingers entering you.

"You're so fucking wet, I don't even have to prep ya. How'd I get so lucky?"

You saw me on a billboard and somehow got my Manager's number, is what you wanted to say. But that wouldn't get you his cock.

"P-please fuck me. Want ya s'bad, Daddy," you didn't care that you were whining. The ache between your legs was burning you alive.

Peter bent you over the desk, entering you in one smooth motion.

You yelled at the sensation of him filling you up instantly. Half of Peter's men had already heard you two fucking from the countless "breaks" he took during meetings at your house. Their wives would give you a dirty look at the next dinner party and then stay silent about it.

Peter pulled out of you, slamming back in to create an unrelenting pace. You gripped the edge of the desk, desperate to steady yourself.

"Ya like it when Daddy fucks you nice and hard?"

You nodded your head, a gasp escaping when you felt his cock brush up against that sweet spot.

"Love it s'much. Feels s'good." It was difficult to tell if you were drunk from the alcohol or your husband's cock, or both.

"You're mine. All mine."

"All your's D-Daddy."

"Maybe I should fuck a baby into ya. Make everyone know that only I get to fuck this amazing cunt." His words sent you closer and closer to the edge.

"Ya want that?" Peter tugged on your ponytail, forcing you to tilt your head back to look at him.

"Yes! P-please. Want it s'bad. Want your cum s'bad." Your moans continued as you felt two of Peter's fingers begin to circle your clit.

"Then come on Daddy's cock. Show me how bad ya want it."

The sound that escaped your lips was animalistic. Your orgasm knocked you over like a wave in the ocean. If it wasn't for Peter's arm wrapped around your waist, you probably wouldn't be able to stand.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby," You heard Peter mumbled as he continued fucking you through your orgasm.

With a gutteral groan, Peter's hips stilled as he came inside of you. The two of you stood there, holding onto each other as you tried to catch your breath.

"Ya really meant that? About wanting a baby?" He whispered. There was a hint of nervousness in his voice- something only you got to see.

You titled your head back, bringing one of your hands up to caress the back of his neck.

"You're the only person I want to have kids with. No one else."

He pressed a chaste kiss against your lips. You could feel the smile spreading across his face.

"We should...we should call your doctor. Get that IUD taken out," He said when he broke away.

You chuckled, "We should clean up first."

"Yeah, I think I have a handkerchief in my pocket," Peter looked around, locating the jacket that was halfway across the room.

"Well, if anything drips onto the carpet, we'll just blame Jason," He said, chuckling as he prepared to pull out of you.

"Peter!"

"What?"

[aloeverified]

🎸🎤 HEX GIRL HEADCANONS 🎤🎸

Before forming a band together, each member had a miniature career of their own. Luna was a pretty popular online figure for her performances at bars and restaurants, Dusk went viral a few times from her rave shows, and Thorn had a history of starring in plays and talent shows all her life. They eventually found each other online and began talking, and after Thorn and Dusk immigrated to the U.S., they formed a band.

Although they live in America, Luna is the only one who was born there. She's Creole and was raised in New Orleans, Thorn is French-Candian and from Ontario, and Dusk is Japanese and from Kyoto. Due to where they grew up, they all speak different languages as well. Luna is fluent in Spanish and French, Thorn was raised speaking French just as much as English and knows a bit of Italian, and Dusk's first language is Japanese and she's fluent in JSL. They all began learning ASL after forming a band since Dusk is deaf in one ear and hard-of-hearing in her other.

Thorn's real name is Sally McKnight, Luna's is Selene Moon, and Dusk's is Twilight Yami. Thorn picked her name due to her love of roses, whereas Luna and Dusk simply picked names that have the same meaning as their own.

Due to her hearing loss, Dusk doesn't wear shoes when practicing or performing. When coming up with songs, Thorn doesn't wear shoes either since she claims it helps her feel closer to the music. Luna sometimes doesn't and says it's for the same reason but it's actually just because her boots hurt her feet after a while.

They each base their personas after different horror monster icons. Thorn's is Dracula, Luna's is the werewolf, and Dusk is inspired by both Frankenstein monsters. They also have very different gothic styles; Thorn being more of a romantic vampire goth with some witchy accents, whereas Luna is a trad and corp goth with lots of glam, and Dusk being more in the visual kei and metalhead scene with some cyber and bubble goth inspiration.

Thorn is known for being a bit of a bachelorette and dates anyone ranging from a trucker to a theater kid who thinks he's a vampire. Luna and Dusk, however, are in a relationship that they keep private from fans. Luna is a lesbian, Dusk is bisexual, and Thorn doesn't feel the need to label her sexuality.

Their fans often get into heated arguments over the girls' heights since Dusk is typically shoeless and the other wears heels. Thorn typically looks pretty tall since she's in the front and wears high heels, with Luna looking about the same in her boots behind her keyboard, whereas Dusk looks the shortest while barefoot and sitting down to play the drums; but the truth is Thorn is only about 5'4, Dusk is 5'8, and Luna is just over 5'10.

Their fans have nicknames for them based off of different creatures, with Thorn being called a succubus due to her seductive voice and dancing, Dusk being compared to a banshee since most of her back-up vocals are screams and her unhinged drumming, and Luna being recognized for her werewolf persona due to long nails, canine fangs, and loud howl-like laughter.

Rather than visiting a salon, they have nights every few weeks were they touch up their hair. Dusk is albino with naturally platinum hair which makes it so she she has to redye her hair every so often, whereas Luna and Thorn have to actually go through the process of bleaching their hair. Dusk typically dyes her hair a darker blonde or adds different shades of green streaks, Luna switches between dark red and blonde every so often, and Thorn either dyes her naturally brown hair black or bleaches it to make it a bright red — sometimes a combination of both.

They're all university students who avoid actually attending classes by taking online courses. Thorn is majoring in envoirmental science with a business minor, Dusk is a literature major studying philosophy, and Luna is in the process of graduating art school.

Thorn is most inspired by bands like She Wants Revenge and London After Midnight, whereas Dusk takes more after Malice Mizer and Bikini Kill, and Luna is one of the biggest fans of The Cure and the Bauhaus.

They regularly go on adventures together to places that are regarded as haunted or cursed. While on tour in different countries, they make it a habit to try and visit any attractions they haven't seen yet. Thorn particular likes haunted castles and cemeteries, Dusk is interested in asylums and prisons, and Luna is obsessed with any place that has a tragic backstory.

While Thorn is relatively good friends with Daphane due to their shared love of fashion and past romantic interests in Velma, and Dusk enjoys terrifying Shaggy and Scooby, Luna and Fred are actually able to have normal conversations

They love getting together with the Mystery Gang when possible. When she's not flirting with Velma, Thorn spends her time with Daphne talking about fashion and gossiping about their past experiences with stupid boys. Luna is also pretty good friends with Fred and they could have conversations for hours about random niche interests. Dusk and Velma have a shared passion for gothic literature and Velma also enjoys watching Dusk terrify Shaggy and Scooby when she's bored.

[prelovednikaidou]

cunning ; geto suguru [01]

Genre: college au, fwb, slight angst, smut

Summary:

In which you found your secret crush stood in front of the student board, staring at one particular picture. Lifting his index finger to the tempered glass; Geto Suguru lightly muttered,

"I want to fuck her so bad."

-and the picture was you.

Warning: voyeurism

series masterlist

[01; pervert]

You couldn't tear your eyes off him.

He stood tall on his imposing figure, drawing enough attention to himself as he settled beside a gray-haired boy, who was the trophy of the philosophy department.

While his partner was the most popular student in your batch, your heart still ached for those beautiful ebony manes. Perhaps, it was the way how his pale skin complimented the stark contrast from his dark image; Geto Suguru was simply ethereal in your vision.

You were about to leave your seat when you heard the other girl replied, "But lately, my taste has changed. Easy-going boys are...meh. But bad boys, hmm..so dangerous. Like.. he's so mysterious and unapproachable. I've never seen him talk to a girl before."

You were about to leave your seat when you heard the other girl replied, "But lately, my taste has changed. Easy-going boys are...meh. But bad boys, hmm..so dangerous. Like.. he's so mysterious and unapproachable. I've never seen him talk to a girl before."

You were about to leave your seat when you heard the other girl replied, "But lately, my taste has changed. Easy-going boys are...meh. But bad boys, hmm..so dangerous. Like.. he's so mysterious and unapproachable. I've never seen him talk to a girl before."

Both girls giggled and continued watching the basketball training ahead of them.

Your smile dimmed before you walked your way to the cafeteria. Their words lingered in your head and an uneasy feeling rose in your chest.

It would be harder now to watch him since others would start doing the same. It got to you mentally but you just brushed it off. He wasn't yours so this sense of ownership disgusted you.

Looking down at the short skirt you wore, the soft material twirled along with the soft breeze. A skirt has never been a thing for you. Yet you wore one since you've heard that Geto likes short skirts. Well, maybe you knew a little bit too much. Like, he is a silent pervert who has weird fetishes...

You rubbed your heated cheeks, calming down the blush that resulted from your indecent thoughts. Most of the stalls have closed, leaving you no choice but to buy your drinks from the vending machine. It was placed rather far from the dining places so you have to jog a little before you reached the dark corner of the stairs.

Since it was already approaching 7 p.m, most people weren't around except for the club training students and people who stayed to watch them. You felt at ease a little, knowing no one would bother you but unusual sounds erupted from the stairs; you were scared of being robbed by some scoundrels so you slowly got onto your knees...

And peeking through the tiny gaps your eyes could see.

It was too dark and your socks were already dirtied by your crawling. Thinking that you were just hearing things, you were about to turn around when a sudden moan escaped from the tiny gap.

"Hggg.. harder.. ahh..so good..yes, ease the itch please.."

Your breath quickened but the shock you received from it - you remained rooted to your place, listening to the continuous of other's affair.

Gosh, this is so embarrassing..! How can they do it in public..! Well, they're not really in public but I can see them..!

The wet strokes of two flesh met, causing your face to blush deeper. However, it aroused something in you.

Pornography and erotic materials were never within your access despite being 21 years old. You knew them from the biological classes you took but apart from that, you knew absolutely nothing and this was just another source of learning you think you could take advantage of...or so what you confronted yourself.

The two of these pair seemed too engrossed in their business and goosebumps rose in instant. You felt dirty as your lower body unconsciously clenched, releasing slick fluids. This was so wrong and you should stop.

Abruptly standing up, your head knocked against the railing, shocking those lovers before you ran away. You were too afraid of getting caught that you left your drink and hurriedly fastened your steps. Head bowed down, covering your blushing hard face; your view was strict to your feet.

You ended up colliding with a person who was walking in the opposite direction, making your chest tightened. "Sorry, are you okay?" A rich, magnetic voice spouted his concern but you were too anxious about what was inside your head.

So you only nodded like a parrot, leaving the man watched your figure disappeared.

How regrettable would your face be if you realized that the man of your haunting night dreams hold you a while ago and you didn't even speak a word?

Geto's scorching gaze bored into your body - he had been watching you.

Initially, he only wanted to take a short break from the exhausting basketball training. But when he couldn't locate you beside the two other girls, he thought to himself that it was better to search for you.

After all, you weren't that hard to find. You were in his mind as long as he could remember and it didn't take a single fool to know that this is infatuation.

This shouldn't be dismissed with a petty interest as 'crush' because he knew damn well that no one jerks themself every single day as much as he did just from the slight memories he collected about you for the day.

He was about to lose his mind when he saw the lavious curves he dreamed of, was kneeling on the floor - doing whatever god knows. Hesitation and excitement ran through his body when you looked too good on your knees kneeling. Now, he has a new memory unlocked.

Yet, knowing that you were always so shy and easily flustered - he didn't make any approach. He wanted you to submit yourself of your own will. But on each passing day, his patience was wearing thin. It took a single provocation before he snapped and that happened to be this day.

"What is this fool doing? Isn't she worried others could see her?" Frustrated, his long strides shortened the distance but you suddenly stood up and he cursed a little.

Judging from the flustered look on her face, you must have seen something bad and it brought one sadistic smile on his lips.

How naughty.

Your short yet fast steps amused him and it was within his intention to bump against you. A small hand grabbed his arm, correcting the staggering posture but it irked him that he couldn't see your face.

"Sorry, are you okay?" He attempted to make you look at him but those beautiful eyes were glued to the floor. His jaw ticked when all you did was nodding your head and before he could press for more, you were already out of his grasp.

What a tease.

Not only he knew how that waist could form one hell of a sexy arch, but your well-rounded fleshy bottom was also something he couldn't get out of his mind until he dies.

His wrist was going to be sore tonight and he didn't care about it all. Nearing the vending machine, the drink you left was still cold. He kicked the door that leads to the staircases and a strong stench of sex dispersed.

His wolfish grin broadens and his eyes were glimmering with a well-hidden hunger. A deep laugh came from him,

"What a dumb stool. Why did I even wonder about her refusal? There ain't no way an innocent girl would stay and listen to people fucking."

The thought of you being a pervert aroused him and the hard strain on his pants couldn't hide his thick greed.

"If running is what you love, then run all you can. Wait til' I catch you in my hand."

series masterlist

next chapter›