My Thoughts - Blog Posts

What you reap is what you sow

What you give comes back three fold

As above

ʍolǝq oS

This is my first post and I really hope that everything is OK.

I once saw an idea by an author (sorry, I couldn't find the original of that post and the author. But if you are the author of that idea and you see it, then you are super and I really like your ideas!) which was that Nico gives Percy the potion of Endymion. It so happened that recently I came across a screenshot of GreatProphemy in my bookmarks and remembered the lines: "A half-blood of the eldest gods. Shall reach sixteen against all odds. And see the world in endless sleep...". I thought it was pretty cool for that idea! After all, what if the prophecy was not fulfilled to the end, as it was with Luke? Did everyone think that those lines implied a sleeping Manhattan and put everything aside? And then bam! It turned out that the prophecy was not fully fulfilled and Percy falls asleep! Well, a new prophecy may appear!

(Sorry if there are errors. I'm pretty bad at English)

I feel like Angels have a very muted color pallet compared to like, humans and demons. It’s repetitive and boring. They’d all have black or white body’s with black, white, gold, or pale blue halos that wrap around their faces or necks. Then their eyes also follow those colors. And then strips of pale light coming off their backs as wings. The only amount of vibrant color an average Angel has is the subtle rainbow sheen covering their body. The more powerful an Angel is the bigger with more prominent halos and more eyes and arms, it doesn't help their blandness at all. If you showed an Angel and vibrant color, they wouldn’t like it at all. Although I think God's first angels are much more colorful than the others albeit pastel. 

On the other hand, I think that demons are very vibrantly colored while also having much more diversity. I think they use their colors mostly to see each other in the dark, as a way to communicate which sector they're from and attract someone they're into. The eyes, shoulders, horns, hair, tail, and legs are common places where vibrant colors would glow. Cheeks are also one but that’s uncommon. A more powerful demo, like a sinner, would be more colorful than say, your average hell-born. Because of this, however, pastel colors don’t really exist in Hell due to how white they can be. It’s weird to see a demon walking around with pastel colors. 

When the fic has non-sexual spanking and discipline

I've only listened to one song of hers but this picture is the most beautiful album cover ever, I'm literally in love like omg

Same couple, different fonts

Imagine a asgard au with the black brothers and sirius breaks the timeline because he's a bad boy and meets remus and they have to fix the timeline and sirius frees remus from the TVA and they live happy every after :)))))

the horrible feeling you get when the tissue box runs out of tissues <<<

Regulus is Killer Queen and James is Good Old-Fashion Lover Boy

I edited/cleaned up my “Horror Ads” stories, so pls read them UwU 👉👈 They are pretty shit, so don’t expect much if you do read them lol

Pt.2 of Horror Ads

pov: uh oh, you didn't do your Spanish lessons today

You're frantically searching for your phone. Oh no, oh no, this is bad, you say inwardly. You finally locate your phone on your bedroom nightstand. While you're pulling up the app, you hear a small object rolling in the hall. It's coming towards you. They are already coming for you. Silence sweeps over your house. You take one last look around your room, knowing this is the last time you will see it.

You slowly open your eyes. A bright, white light is nearly blinding you. You steadily start to realize what you have done. These are the consequences of your actions. Your eyes, having already scanned the room, see no possible escape route. Pulling and tugging on the ropes that bind you would be no use. There is no escaping what you have done. The room looks to be soundproof. The floor is a solid, gray concrete, accompanied by pastel amber walls. The aura around you reeks of exhaustion and defiance. Crimson blood, still wet and fresh, is splattered across one of the corners. The wooden door to your left is painted white. Some paint is chipped off, revealing a startlingly bright red. The red is a suspiciously similar shade to the splattered blood. The door slowly creaks open, but nothing moves towards you. Then it happens, a small, bright green bird shuffles forward, through the creaky door. Where you're from this bird is a symbol of life, death, and growth. You curse under your breath, you are truly doomed now. Any sliver of hope you had before, is burned and disintegrated. With your heartbeat bursting in your ears, you silently pray to the gods for forgiveness. This bird is an omen. A cursed omen. Stories of El Pájaro Verde were spread to your ears as a child. Your past self would never have thought you would find yourself in this situation.

The toxic green bird lunges at you. You brace yourself for impact, but the impact never comes. You look up to find the foul fowl looking directly into your eyes. It's only centimeters from your face. Those piercing, black eyes seem almost hypnotic. You can't look away, mesmerized. Suddenly, after what feels like hours of gazing into those captivating orbs, a loud slam comes from outside the room, breaking your eye contact. A tall man in a lab coat casually struts into the room. He looks extremely out of place in your surrounding environment. He is wearing a semi-casual, blue work shirt under his coat. Brown, rounded glasses frame his face. His dark brown hair is piled up on his head, giving him a little more height. He's about 6 foot, you would say. "Hello," he says. You notice he has a little name tag pinned onto his lab coat. "Luis von Ahn," it reads. Luis von Ahn, Luis von Ahn, Luis von Ahn, you repeat over and over again in your head. I've heard that name before, come on think. Only then does he seem to realize that your restraints prevent you from responding to him. He reaches over and gently rips the tape, which previously covered your mouth, off.

You immediately inhale a sharp breath, savoring the bitter taste of the air around you. The man in front of you, Luis, looks expectant, a hoarse "Hello," falls from your dry lips, in response. Soon after your response, a thought hits you like a freight train, Luis von Ahn, the owner of the company that's ruining my life, he probably owns me too. He grins, a smile so genuine, warm, it almost hides the psychotic intent behind this man. That grin is the last memory you have for a while.

One week later

You look around, not knowing who you are or how you got here. Your life has turned into a company scheme. Luis is your only friend in this bare corporate world. You're a tiny worker bee in a giant hive. You know you could be exterminated at the snap of his fingers. You often find yourself wondering what your life was like before they took you or what you did to get yourself here. You have many theories, but none of them seem likely. You will spend the rest of your pathetic little life buzzing away for the capitalist pigs that own your soul. Your forever has been stolen from you, there is no hope in getting it back.

I saw a Grammarly ad today and got inspired lol

pov: one, two Grammarly is coming for you

You hear Grammarly in the distance, their long nails scraping across the walls of the hall. You're trying hard not to hyperventilate. Hand flies over your mouth in horror when your childhood lamp falls, then shatters. The lamp was made by your late-great grandmother in 1939. She was a film writer with a side hobby of making pottery. You look at the ceiling, Sorry, Grandma, you inwardly apologize to yourself, and everyone you've ever wronged too. This is what it feels like when your life flashes before your eyes. The scraping stops, you inhale sharply. This is it, this is how I die, is the only thing you find yourself thinking. A soft knock follows shortly after the scraping stops, You imagine their tall pale head snapping towards your door, fingers clawing at it. Surprisingly there is no clawing, just a gentle knock. You check to make sure the door is locked, firmly. You whip out your phone, then put it away again. No use in calling the police now, it's already over for you. You know your family is next. A soft hum can be heard from outside your bedroom, then a loud slam. You peer out from your hiding place. A long, white hand with lengthy nails has broken through your door. There is a hole in the door, right above the silver handle. You retract your body back immediately, but you know it's no use. They will get you eventually. You are eternally doomed. As you expected, they sniff you out. The last thing you see is that haunting pale hand. The last thing you smell is fear. The last thing you touch is the fine brown carpet of your childhood bedroom. The last thing you taste is your bloody lip, which you damaged earlier in the frantic escape. You will never escape again. The last thing you hear is this quiet, almost angelic serenade, "Writing isn't easy. That's why Grammarly can help. This sentence is grammatically correct, but it's wordy, and hard to read. It undermines the writer's message and the word choice is bland. Grammarly's cutting edge technology helps you craft compelling, understandable writing that makes an impact on your reader. Much better. Are you ready to give it a try...?"

I just finished Blood in the Bayou and holy shit…

I CRIED MULTIPLE DIFFERENT TIMES ESPECIALLY FROM EPISODE 2 AND 4 ITS TERRIBLE

The reveals were bat shit insane personally, I finished episode 2 during class and I was not having a good time.

Overall I love it and also I hope the council fucking dies from bugs /silly/hj

Episode 2 was a fever dream that made me laugh and break down crying, same with episode 3 and episode 4 too

Episode one was nice-ish though there was more fun stuff than horrors in my opinion but it was leading up to the horrors.

The only reason why I decided to watch/listen to Blood in the Bayou was because I was listening to the OST, specifically You’ve Changed, and my friend Enlee decided to give some links up so I could listen to it and goddamn was it the best decision I made

I’m also really glad that Cheri solar-cheri did a whole thing for the trigger warnings for not just bitb but ALL of the other campaigns

THANK YOU CAPTAIN ENLEE AND CHERI FOR OPENING MY EYES TO THE BUG RELATED HORRORS THAT THE ‘80S HAD :D

Does like anyone else hate standing still? Cause I'll be standing still and like my lega hate or smth. Maybe I just like walking? Idk

So apparently in my part of Texas there will be a full lockdown where you can only go out if certified for work or getting groceries. It's official, Plague Inc has become reality. Thanks Corona! 😑

Heads up if you plan to fallow me just know I will be on the site, but I'll mostly post randomly on my own page i don't have much on there. but I'll be commenting on stuff.

So yeah,😶....I don't really talk much so don't think I'm egnoring you, I'm still reading and checking out your stuff, so yeah just so you know. 😌

PERSONAL THOUGHTS #1😐

I don't think I could ever take care of or own a dog😕, I'm in the autistic spectrum and I can not handle dogs, too much energy for me. Don't get me wrong I love dogs they are God's greatest creation...but I don't have the mental capacity to keep up with dogs. I like other people's dogs but own one ...no😔.

I don't ever want to feel like my alter ego is just someone I can never become. Like an idealized version of me.

Like a costume fit to be worn only onstage but can never be embodied outside of the theatre. A one time showing under the right conditions. A character that'll never make it off screen.

I don't like to confine myself to those kinds of lines and boxes.

The fact that she exists means that I am capable of being this person, you know? That means I was able to bridge the gap between us and become one.

It may be difficult but it's never impossible.

I know the story of Icarus is supposed to be a cautionary tale about the dangers of getting ahead of yourself...

But has anyone thought about whether Icarus intended to fall? What if when he flew high above, out of the awful labyrinth that had entrapped him and his father all this time, he finally felt free in the endless sky with the ocean under him? What if he looked beyond and saw a city on the horizon and while his father flying beside him shouts that it is safe haven, that they have found a place to land, all Icarus could see was another maze, with its walls and paths and crossroads. Only this one seemed to have more people caught in it. What if he looked at it all and refused to be one of them, refused to live the rest of his life in another labyrinth after just escaping one. What if the sun wasn't his doom but the bright burning possibility of freedom.

You must understand, I'm not saying he definitely wanted to fall. But maybe he never wanted to stop flying. Maybe he never wanted to be parted from the sky and sea. Maybe he just wanted to be free.

Absolutely!!

Absolutely😏

Good rules to go by

She's a good girl on the outside

But a bad girl when the mood's right

In the moonlight she becomes his naughty little thing

She's exclusive, she's elusive

But with him she's so inclusive

She's a giver, but only when fulfilling all his needs

Yeah, she's got those pretty eyes

But behind them lies

Thoughts of him at night she can't seem to fight

Feelings that she knows she's gonna have to feed

And ever since the day that he got a taste

She's his only chase, he cannot replace

Thoughts of her up in his mind, a curiosity

Yeah, she looks like a little angel

But at night's a different angle

Demon eyes looking fatal

Got a mind, dirty, playful

Part 5

      Waluigi, Akiho, and Maquyo stared at Luigi as his face was full of frustration. We looked at each other. "WELL, THAT'S THE ROUND, AND NOW FOR THE JUDGEMENT!" Akiho yelled in excitement. Luigi stared at his plates. Hopefully, she doesn't think of these as the same dish... The men took a clique and set them on their favorite critic's table. "And now for the purple opponent." "Can you join me in tasting these, please?" Akiho smiled, "It's my event, of course." Waluigi, with pride, charmed, "This plate will change your taste of food forever. This plate will fill you enough with one bite to not eat this idiot's garbage." Luigi looked away, annoyed. Waluigi lifts up his clique. The girls, intrigued, looked at the dish before their interest disappeared. "It's just a taco.." Maquyo squints at the singular food, "Did you legitimately steal that from taco bell?" Waluigi sweats, "Nah, the wrapper is patterned like that because of my signature color." "Signature color?" Maquyo looked up unamused. "Yah know what. Fuck it. Let's try this," Akiho rushed. Maquyo cut a slice as Akiho got her half. They crunched on the Mexican dish with napkins wrapped and were awed in flavor. "This is really good." Luigi widens his eyes with worry as his anxiety starts to crawl in. Thought that maybe he should've stayed with Daisy. Perhaps he will end up alone again for good. "This tastes straight up like taco bell; I'm not surprised."

    Waluigi, shocked, looked away arrogantly from the judge as she looked away slightly.

      Luigi looked back up to find Maquyo unpleased with her food. "It needs to be rare... Something that makes it its own instinct of flavor." The one that was left was shaking the covered plate. He slowly walked to the table to delicately place it. Maquyo smiled assuredly, "I bet your dish will be ravishing and delicious since you’re an amazing cook." She gives a little wink at Luigi, leaving him blushing. He took a deep breath and reached over to grab the clique. The clique rattles as the sweaty man expose three beautiful spaghetti plates close to each other. "Wow! What was he so nervous about!?" The Bolt sisters explained. “~And they’re all different as weeell. My dog, you’ve outdone yourself”, Akiho smiles with a fork prepared, waiting to savor his food. The siblings gagged at the plate in front of them.On the other hand, Mario was upset as Wario was snickering at him in the background. The smell of a well home-cooked plate straight from Italy reached their noses. “*sniffs*It smells SO GOOD!” they synced. “Okay then, how about you tell us which plate is which?” “U-ugh um, I tell you f-first what t-they are and t-then you girls can p-pick one to taste o-o-or something. I don’t know.” Maquyo noticed Luigi’s anxiety but sat silent. Leaving a drop of sweat, Luigi runs his face, “... so yeah.” “ooh! What’s this one?” Akiho pointed to the white spaghetti with her fork. 

      “Oh, that’s a Carbonara spaghetti-” “I take dibs!” Akiho giggled mischievously as her older sister gave her a disbelieving look. “Aw, no fair.” “Too bad BITCH!” Seeing their excitement vibing to his presence, Luigi relaxed and walked up, “Maquyo, if you want to, try this one. It’s a Bucatini all’Amatriciana.” He indicates the one between the Carbonara and the classic spaghetti above. “It’s the same as a normal one, but it’s chopped pork cheeks instead of meatballs. I made it for your interest,” He scratches his head smiling. “Then I’m more willing to try it since I have a favoritism of pork.” The women took a fork of food and embraced their taste buds. The two distinctly entered into a shocked anime look with such intense graphic effect with one chew. “HOLY SHIIIIIII-!!!!” Eyes sparkled as they were no longer at the celebration; an old-fashioned Italian restaurant appeared before them as they sat on a round wooden table with one candle. They looked up to see Luigi but dressed as an Italian chef. His hand was held on the dish as he gestured a gentle smile that suited him well. Maquyo’s eyes leaked a tear as the imagery faded away to where she really was. The smiling chef Italian also went away, showing another with an overgrown, concerned face. The real Luigi had the same gesture but was about to take the plate away. “What the fuck? I didn’t know I cooked that well..” He whispered.

Maquyo grabbed it and looked at Luigi as if saying not to take away her treasure. Akiho bowed in respect and placed the utensil down, "I think my sister doesn't need to judge for this mini-contest." She slowly walks, "It's....... so different. Such a level gap. Waluigi. How did you learn to cook?" "With my mama. She would teach me the recipe, and I would practice until perfection." He threw a pose while a stage light shined over him. Luigi sluggishly rolled his eyes once more with irritation his foe was giving him. "And you, Luigi?" "My papa showed me, but either way, I did whatever shit I wanted into the mix." Maquyo immediately burst out a giggle while shifting her body away to hide her laughter with a cyan fan. Akiho happily sighed, "Well, shit, man. It's obvious you would do that, you stubborn man."

Agh I'm stopping for this post. I feel like it's getting to long. 6th one is coming.

"DEATH IS THE MOTHER OF BEAUTY"

- literary examples of death as tragic and beautiful in its terror

Ophelia, a beautiful, innocent girl created by Shakespeare, torn by emotions so much that in despair for her lost love, she throws herself into the arms of the river, drowning. This is clearly seen in Millais's painting. Despite her death, a young girl resists the influence of filthy water on the human body. Pale but healthy skin, rosy cheeks and pink lips desperately taking their last breath. A tragic moment captured in such a calm way. Ophelia remains forever beautiful and immortal in the eyes of the viewer.

"Perfume" by Patrick Süskind, a novel about a murderer who tries to capture the most beautiful smell. The smell of death in the form of perfume made from a young body. His victims are again little girls who die in a tragic, sometimes even parodic way, being brutally mercilessly harmed. But in the main character's eyes they still shine like stars in the sky, filling him with pure exhilaration. Especially that one woman who is his eternal inspiration.

Baudelaire creates something similar in the poem "the death of lovers". The couple on its deathbed is not concerned about the coming end. Their love seems to bloom even more, surrounded by fragrant flowers that fill their souls with peace and joy.

Finally, the story of Tristan and Isolde, another lovers, on whose grave a hawthorn grows. A symbol of their eternal love. From their dead bodies, corrupted by decay, something amazing in its beauty is created bearing witness to their everlasting connection.

It reminds me of the words of Edvard Munch: "From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity"

Writers, poets, whole literature itself create death in various ways. But showing it as a gateway to beauty is something particularly special. How death can it be glamorous, artistic and pleasing for our eyes. How to find it among tragedy, mourning, rotten skin and that disgusting smell of decay. And why show it this way at all?

"Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell" - Hermann Hesse

being a girl means yearning for different aesthetics at the same time and losing your mind

i’m going FERAL. made this while listening to yayo. i need joel so badly it hurts.

EW I HAVE A CRUSH??? ON A MAN???? ughhhh i hate when that happens. pls send help.

buffalo ‘66

just watched this movie and am OBSESSED. the aesthetic of christina ricci and the cinematography was so beautiful!! was it scary and disturbing, yes. was it also beautiful and life changing? also yes. anyways. loved this movie.

i hate when people get mad over things out of your control. like WHAT DO U WANT FROM ME??? WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO??