#greek anarchists go hard

[lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers]

24 hour general strike in Greece, Black Bloc clashes with police.

This is what we should be seeking to replicate, and all solidarity with our Greek comrades.

[kazimirkharza]

What are your thoughts on how many anarcho-primitivist/luddite/anticiv spaces have been taken over by right-wing types? It seems less people are actually engaging in primitivist thought and more so thinking it's "based" and "trad."

I saw how you got downvoted for insulting whatalthist, and this is what led me to ask this question.

I'm assuming you're referring to online spaces. There's a strong effort by the right to co-opt primitivism. There are some forums that are frequented by right-wingers, though they're in the minority; most problematic spaces are the ones about Kaczynski and things directly related to him. There are also many social media accounts that express primitivistic ideas in combination with authoritarian and rightist politics (e.g. individuals who adore both Ted Kaczynski and Pentti Linkola). Most concerning to me are actually the offline examples that get press coverage.

I see this as being both due to deliberate efforts to co-opt primitivism, much in the manner Nazis co-opted socialism, and due to ignorance on the part of many right-wingers. It isn't too hard to misinterpret Kaczynski's remarks about leftism if you read him inattentively, and conclude that he must be some sort of right-winger. Ted's mistake was focusing on attacking the left too much and worrying too little about the right, but at the time he wrote his manifesto this choice made sense.

Ted was a fan of Earth First! and when he wrote Industrial Society and its Future the wounds of an ideological split within it were still fresh. EF! started out as a truly ecocentric movement with extremely narrow goals of protecting the wilderness from the ravages of industrialism and other harm caused by civilized humans. After gaining a lot of momentum, EF! attracted thousands of newcomers, many of whom leaned more to the side of leftist humanism than deep ecology, causing conflict — the newcomers were trying to transform the movement into one about ecology-related social justice issues, while the original Earth First!ers preferred to only focus on wilderness conservation. (For more on this check out Earth First!: Environmental Apocalypse by Martha F. Lee). The right-wing in America at the time was comprised mostly of people who were staunch prometheans, warmongers, etc., and Ted rightly assumed they weren't going to take over his movement. However as the political climate changed they became one.

The US and the rest of the "West" seems to be experiencing a rise in right-wing back-to-nature ideas, similar in many ways to the so-called "right-wing hippies" of the Weimar republic. I'm talking about doomsday preppers, christian nationalist communes, etc. Kaczynski did not anticipate this, and by the time news about who was adopting (some of) his ideas — not just anarchists and former Earth First!ers, but people including the Greek fascist Golden Dawn party, and Andreas Breivik — reached Kaczynski in his supermax prison it was a bit late. He penned a short note titled Ecofascism: An Aberrant Branch of Leftism in 2020, arguing against their ideas and saying he's their enemy. However, more people read and will read ISAIF in the future than this obscure note and the few other scattered critiques of the right that can be found throughout his work.

What we need to do is to aggressively shun these types until we successfully repel them. This applies to real life and online interactions. There will always be some who'll try to co-opt primitivism, but this big wave needs to be halted. There are also some who are genuinely willing to learn and adjust their beliefs, but they're few in between. It's necessary to distinguish between the two, keep the latter and reject the former.

[anarchy-and-piglins]

In honor of my pjo/greek mythology hyperfixation trying to drag me back into its clutches by the neck - your thoughts on sbi as demigods? I like to imagine phil as a son of thanatos (bc death) or hermes (bc wings). Techno as a son of eris (often considered the goddess of strife and discord but also bloodshed) or athena (obvious choice with his strategies). Wilbur as son of athena (bc he was the strategist during much of the dsmp era iirc). Now this was hard to figure out but i'd imagine Tommy as a son of hestia (bc he was loyal to a fault at times, and very attached to the people [and things] he loved and considered his family, to the point of betraying others which, i know, is the opposite of loyalty but i feel like it still fits)

I should probably preface this by saying I know absolutely nothing about Percy Jackson and all that, so I'm going 100% based on my knowledge of Greek mythology and not any in-universe lore for that franchise.

I think Hermes is pretty spot on for Phil, also being the god of travel and such. Additionally known as both a trickster AND a protector which feels very fitting for Phil. Thanatos is definitely also a fun choice. I relate Phil a lot to themes of stars and night, so Nyx could also be an interesting option.

For Techno, while a bit of a cliché choice, I think Ares fits as the god of war, courage, and bloodshed (more so in my opinion than Eris because I wouldn't personally relate Techno to her specific connotations of strife or chaos). Alternatively, I'd like to suggest Demeter. Not only does personifying Techno with the goddess of harvest and agriculture slap hard, Demeter is linked to the upholding of sacred law and the cycle of life and death, which feels fitting for Techno's anarchistic tendencies. I'd vibe with Athena or even Artemis too honestly, those are good picks.

Wilbur is the one I'd relate more to Eris, I think. It feels very fitting. Apollo could also be fun, the god of music and poetry and prophecy. Apollo is heavily tied into a bow and arrow, which always feels like a Wilbur thing to me (bonus points if Techno is the child of Artemis then, since Artemis and Apollo are twins). Another good option for Wilbur is Dionysus, god of myth and theatre, but also instability and madness. That's Wilbur to a T.

Then Tommy, I think you're again pretty spot on with Hestia, that's a very Tommy-coded goddess. Nike, goddess of victory, also feels Tommy-coded to me. But as usual my Tommy thoughts are pretty limited, sorry about that.

[feckcops]

Why young people in the UK are returning to anarchism

“Throughout history, social change has been led by hard fought battles. Whether that’s women’s rights, gay liberation or the civil rights movement, both violent and non-violent direct action has been used to varying degrees to win whatever freedoms we enjoy today. Floralis got into anarchism through reading about the activism of Martin Luther King Jr, Malcolm X and the Black Panthers as a teenager. 

“‘I grew up as a person of colour in quite a white town. I got into a lot of activist history because I was experiencing racism but I didn't understand what was happening to me.’ As a non-binary person of colour, she explains, being an anarchist is part of her identity. ‘If you go around Brighton, there’s a reason why most transgender people you meet are anarchists,’ she explains. ‘It’s because we as a community have helped ourselves more than our government has helped us. If we wait around for someone else to provide for us, then we are simply not going to survive.’ ...

“Closer to home, black metal band Dawn Ray’d have been flying the black flag since they came together in Liverpool in 2015. ‘Anarchy comes from the ancient Greek word Anarkhia, which just means without rulers,’ vocalist and violinist/vocalist Simon Barr tells me. ‘I think that’s a wonderful explanation of it, because it doesn't mean chaos. It doesn't mean violence, necessarily.’ He goes on to say that it’s actually capitalism that is inherently violent. ‘[Capitalism] uses violence to steal resources from around the world. It moves and destroys and kills indigenous populations that are in the way. Violence is all around us all the time. You might not be suffering it yourself, but it is happening. So I think that when somebody lashes out and breaks a window or punches a fascist in the face in a city centre, is that as bad as the crimes against the earth and the crimes against people that we see committed by the ruling class constantly?’”

[picklesabroad]

Athens Again

I have made it back to the big city of Athens and we are nearing the end of the Greece chapter of our travels. 

I have had a completely different experience in Athens this time around. The accommodation I booked us is in an interesting neighbourhood called Exarcheia. Exarcheia has historically been an area that has housed a lot of the free thinkers, students, artists, book binders, and creatives. It also has been a hotspot of left wing anarchist activity, and has a very healthy and permanent riot police presence. The streets are covered with graffiti, some cool, some menacing and anti-tourist. It was hard to feel instantly at home. Despite feeling unsettled for the first night, we soon realised that the ‘fuck tourists, go home’ graffiti all over the streets only accounted for a small percentage of the local populations views on tourism - the extremists, and for the most part the locals were indifferent to us being there. The clash of graffiti and leafy streets with tavernas and op shops was quite lovely really.  

We had a big hill behind our house where we could look out over the entirety of Athens - very cool. 

As a side note - the people who were anti-tourist were pushing back against the gentrification of their neighbourhood - namely the conversion of a lot of the student housing in the area into AirBNBs. When we realised what they were fighting for (the place they call home) it made more sense to me why they wouldn’t like us being there. 

We had 4 whole days in Athens, in a house with a washing machine and a bit of room to breathe. We read books, pottered in our neighbourhood, and the other two girls went and looked at all the history things. 

In Athens, there seems to be a travelling fruit and veggie market that pops up in different streets around Athens every day. You can buy all the fresh produce your heart desires here - some of it grown in Greece and some imported from other parts of Europe - tomatoes and melons from Italy etc. The streets smelled like sun ripened fruit - all of the in season nectarines, berries, peaches and apricots. I bought a wedge of watermelon, a bouquet of dill and some strawberries. 

Soph and I found a cool little cafe on our first morning in Athens called Flake, and we had a coffee and a babka (a sweet bready twist thing with Nutella or pistachio cream filling) and we found a guide to Athens which I bought. The guide had some great spots in it which we got straight on to finding. 

The spots included a hidden burger bar that was on top of a building with a view of the acropolis. The bar has no signage anywhere or street frontage so it is an ‘in the know’ kind of set up. We had some visual clues in the book and with a little bit of searching found the right spot, in a very inconspicuous office building. We did as the book suggested and jumped in the lift and took it to the top floor, hoping we wouldn’t be treated by a boardroom of accountants when we got to the top, and the book came through! A basic little terrace greeted us with some tables set up, where you could plop yourself down and enjoy a pita/burger, a greek salad, and a beer with a view right out to the parthenon. 

One of the other spots was an underground taverna accessed by walking from street level down a steep flight of stairs, through an iron trap door and into the basement of the building below, where tables and wine barrels adorned the space. There was no menu and the staff spoke very little English, so you were served whatever the chef was cooking at the time. We had sardines with lemon, barley and dill soup, chickpeas, and potatoes cooked in tomato. It was delish. Also, red wine that we never ordered. Lovely. 

One of the evenings we walked to dinner in the middle of an electrical storm and a bolt of thunder and lightening cracked right over our heads. The Athenians around us who had been so aloof and unsmiling are instantly transformed into screaming, giggling, friendly people. Funny what a bolt of lightning can do. 

Our last day, we visited the National Archeological museum which was very cool. There was an entire exhibition dedicated to Egyptian history which was a bit of a welcome change up to the Greek history. 

Having a house to ourselves was a lovely treat. I took some time to read a book, have a long, lukewarm/cold shower (the hot water system wasn’t great) and to sleep in. 

After 4 busy but good days, we said toodle pip to Stacey and our dear dear greek yoghurt breakfast, and Sophie and I carried on to Istanbul - (where the yoghurt is fine - but she ain’t no Greek). 

[wagonlitcommunitytheatregroup]

So a tour through my current hyperfixations:

Reading major works of socialism

-I'm really interested in understanding the policies of Ho Chi Minh and Fidel Castro

Reading major anarchist works

-I've got a big compendium and want to dive in

Finish Siddhartha

-This shouldn't be hard though I fear it will lead me down another rabbit hole of Eastern Philosophy.

Reading major classical Greek texts.

-Listening to the Orphic hymns on audiobook as well as reading (And writing definitions for every single name and place) in Theogony. That process has been going on for several months.

And playing too much Sims 4.

[lexiawrittings]

No Hard Feelings

PAIRING.

Dark!August Walker x Assassin!Reader 

SUMMARY.

Being raised in pain and horror, trained to be a weapon, you never let yourself be vulnerable. You never took your guards down in front of anyone. Until you met him, Agent Walker. It was supposed to be just a regular mission, taking down someone for the money and the thrills. Your mission was a success. However it end up in blood, sex, and again, more blood.

A/N.

DARK AU (I mean it’s August), SMUT (only +18), mention of blood and harming someone. Mention of firearms. Swearing. 

So, I watched Mission Impossible: Fallout and I had thoughts.. a lot of them 😏. As always, thank you very much for reading! Don’t hesitate to leave your thoughts, comments, and feedback. Also, I know I have a lot of asks and requests in my inbox, I’m not ignoring them. I will try to reply as soon as possible. hank you so much for your comments though 💖!! Thank you! 💖💖

P.S: Gif isn’t mine, credit to the owner and maker.

A lots of Love! Lex!xx 💕💕

WORDS.2851ish.

°°°

Standing on the Berlin's street sidewalk, you watched him straddling his bike, without another glance in your direction. Sighing you crossed your arms on your chest, ignoring the pain and hurt forming inside your stomach. You didn't turn your eyes away from his frame. You didn't turn them away when he started his engine, pushing the gas up and moving his bike forward into the city's road, his motorcycle passing through the other cars. August J. Walker was your pain in the ass, you haven't killed. Yet. Commanding. Law-abiding. Powerful. And unfairly gorgeous. Face and body of a Greek God.  You watched him go until he became a spot in your vision driving far away from you. His worst nightmare. You spend two days together because of an anarchist prick you both had been ordered to kill. His directive was coming from the CIA. Yours? Well, you didn't know and didn't care. You did your job to nurture this impertinent desire for destruction and power you felt every time another person was behind the barrel of your gun. It was everything you wanted since you were old enough to understand human emotions. Until you met August J. Walker. Biting your lower lip, you stood on your tiptoes trying to look for the shiny black bike on the horizon but traffic grew dense and thick and loud in the busy streets. Groaning, you put the sole of your feet back on the concrete of the pavement, making a face. This is stupid! You thought pushing your hands down inside your jacket's pockets. He's just a guy. An agent for the USA government. The personal Hammer of the President. What good would come from this?! Turning on your heels and closing your eyes, you started to push away any thoughts of the dark-haired man putting your focus and your energy toward a brighter and shiny thing. Like the Gucci shop who stood a couple of meters away. Maybe a new outfit will do the trick. You were about to take a step but at the last moment, you turned on your heels for a last hope. Only to be surprise by his sea-blue eyes watching you with amusement. Startled you take a step back as you face each other. Seating on his bike parked a few meters away from you, August tilted his head to the side, waiting. Son of a Bitch! You didn't hear the guy.

" You know it's rude to gawk at a lady. " You cried out, pushing your mixing and uncertain feelings down.

You won't give him this satisfaction. You smiled, slightly narrowing your eyes, walking slowly toward him.

" We both know that you are no lady, Y/N. " " Well, I could be! " You exclaimed in a heavy British accent, acting offended.

That was your cover that August had blown up to your target two days ago. Which pushed you to make the hard decision to fire at him with your gun. A smile appeared on the corner of his mouth. He turned his head left watching civilians walking around, enjoying the small rays of sunshine emerging through the heavy clouds. Bracing his hand on his thighs, knowing well that you were looking at his unsheathed frame. You had fired but this handsomely idiot didn't get injured once. Sighing, the dark-haired man turned his eyes to the right. Awaiting. Licking your lips, you spared a glance behind you to the luxurious shopping area. You could choose the sensible solution and turned back. Spending money on beautiful and expensive clothes. Then, have lunch at the super private and exclusive Time Raue restaurant. And, enjoying a nice nap in first class on your trip back to your home in Rome. That would be the sensible, and responsible thing to do. However, when you straddled the bike behind August, hugging him from behind. Hiding, you pressed your face against his shoulder, smelling his intoxicating scent. You knew that you made the most insane choice in your life. Hanging out with the good guy even though you never were on on the right side of the law, ever. You sense rather than see his smile on his lips.

" You sure? " The dark-haired man asked softly grasping back the hands clutch. " No. " You whispered pushing your cheek on his tone back, gripping him more tightly around his stomach. " Alright, then. "

You put your foot on the footrest while he started once again the engine, turning the bike before making his way into Berlin's heavy traffic, sliding through cars and other heavy vehicles. You closed your eyes, enjoying the wind on your face. Enjoying the feeling of his body against yours.

°°°

" Does the CIA pay you with buttons? " You inquired touching the cheap material of the bedsheets wincing at the rough touch.

It was a small hotel room where high-tech equipments were lying around, opened on tables and the floor. You watched carefully the bed then took a glance at the furniture. Maybe cataloging every piece of IT supplies August Walker could use during a mission could be useful in the future. Watching carefully everything he brought not for satisfying your curiosity but for your job.  

" It can be useful to blend in when you are undercover. " The blue-eyed man sighed putting his keys on the small table next to the bed. " Normal people earning normal wages don't do go to lavish hotel . " He smiles faintly looking at you up and down. " I have luxurious taste " You shrugged taking hold of a lighter with the flag of Germany on it.

You watched it, analyzing every details of the drawing as  he put the light of the room on. The rain had started to pour as you entered the seedy Hotel. Casting a gloomy glow on the city. You pushed the lighter inside your pocket before walking toward the table at the center of the room.

" Put it back. " August ordered, annoyed as he switched the TV on. " Sentimental? " You asked raising an eyebrow and looking at him above your shoulder. " I didn't know The Hammer was the kind of tourist who love buying touristic regalia. " You smiled. " I don't want to enable your kleptomaniac tendency. " He answered without taking his eyes off the screen.

Browsing on channels, August stopped on the BBC. He threw the remote on the bed before he started to pack his stuff. You watched every piece of thing, but only found IT equipment, classified documents, and primary necessities. An airport brand water bottle? All his personal space was filled with generic stuff. Maybe some important information about the CIA agency and their outline purpose by sending one of the best agents on this case. But these pieces of information didn't interest your employer. Not even you. Nothing here felt like a personal object of August J. Walker. Nothing except the lighter.

" Did you call them? " You asked pushing a computer around to look at the files underneath. Classified. Not interesting.   " Call who? " He replied putting several handguns into a black and large suitcase.

Kneeling on the floor, August closed back the case before raising his eyes to  look at you. You arched an eyebrow, tilting your head to the side.

" No. " He sighed, pushing away the heavy bag and reaching for the document under the bed. " I would like to handle you, personally. " " I'm touch. " You beamed, surprised, and a bit confused by his choices. Turning your back to him you walked toward the plump armchair, grimacing at the sight before seating on it, with caution. " As one of the ten most wanted assassin being researched by your little company, it means a lot to me. " You reminded him touching lightly the tiny dark spots  on the violet fabric. " Don't get too comfortable. I plan to hand you to them at some point. " He grunted loading a case above another one. " I will be long gone before you choose to do so. " You stopped counting the dot on the chair before growing depressed at the thought. " Don't count on it. "

Feeling watched you raised your eyes only to meet August's blue ones. Crossing his arms on his chest, you scowled at him.

" We must speak about last night. " " I don't want to. " You rebuked him standing up before making steps to the window in the far corner of the room. " The man who stopped us…" " I didn't know him. " You interrupted him sliding the curtains aside to look through the glass.  

Growing tense and uneasy, you started to wonder if you chose right between a day in town with the rain or being interrogated by a CIA agent in a shitty hotel room.

" His number one on our most-wanted list, Y/N. " August continued his voice growing loud. You sensed him walking toward you. " And you know him. " " I don't. " You lied though your teeth watching passerby running to avoid the rain. Others were walking, shielded by their umbrellas.

Heavy clouds were darkening the sky turning the nice July afternoon into a cold winter night. You felt him stop behind you.

" Why are you lying. " " Who says I'm lying. " You sighed glancing at him above your shoulder. " Stop looking at me like that, M. Serious. I'm not gonna tell you anything. "

Stroking his eyes, August nodded his eyes quickly, muttering words under his breath.

" I'm gonna take a shower. " The dark-haired man said, without another glance in your direction.

You turned around to watch him go behind the wooden door at the back of the room. At the end of the day, August J. Walker was still a prominent agent of the CIA. And even though, something was happening between you, he wouldn't let any chance go away to do his job. You watched him disappear closing the door behind his back. Was it the reason he proposed a ride to his hotel room? To interrogate you on some acquaintances you tried to forget to have ever meet. Biting your lower lip, you shook your head. Maybe it was his idea behind his proposition but not yours.   The tension that has been built between you and this man for the last two days led you here. And you were sure to enjoy every last minute.

°°°

A heavy mist was clogged on the bathroom mirror as you opened the door. Turning his head around, he paused, meeting your eyes through the mist, water, and the glass of the shower. August didn't drop his eyes as you walked to reach him. He didn't drop them as you stepped, entirely naked, inside the shower stall next to him. Darker blue, his pupils were dilated. He started to breathe heavily while goosebumps appeared on his skin. Shivering, the dark-haired man took a step back to make you some space under the jet. Closing your eyes, you tilted your head back as you felt the hot water cascading on your naked form. You could feel his sight on you drinking every pieces of your skin. Opening your eyes, you looked back at him and was shot with a pressure of need and desire as you saw his dark gaze filled with lust on you. Licking his lips, August leaned his back toward the shower wall, his well-defined muscles glistening with water. You wouldn't let your gaze drop further down. You wouldn't give him this satisfaction.

" Touch yourself. " His deep voice echoed through the bathroom stall. His breath was shallow and low. " I thought you would be the one to do it. " You pouted slightly, pushing back your hair off your eyes. " In a minute. " He whispered back, his voice was a low growl. " I need to see you. "

You bite your lower lip, cocking your head to the side while your hands rose slowly to your chest. Stroking gently your skin, you took your hard nipple between your fingers, his hungry gaze watching the seductive movement of your hands.

" Don't make me beg. " You murmured, with heated emotions.

As quickly as the words left your mouth, August lunged for you, hiding his head against your breast. You sighed feeling his hot breath on you, pressing open mouth kisses against your breast. You let your hands wander through his wet hair.

" Y/N. " The Agent deeply moaned sliding his arms around your waist, pushing your body against his naked one. He whimpered when your skins touch, the tip of his cock pressed against your hip. " Fuck it. " He grunted through gritted teeth.

August pushed you against the shower wall. Hot water poured above your heads, making everything wet and hot. You gasped pushing your head against the wall of glass behind you, closing your eyes hard, feeling the sweet and slippery sensation between your legs. Bitting your nipples, his hands were caressing your wet skin slowly before sliding his fingers down.

" I need…" You moaned opening your eyes to meet his dark ones. His lips still on your breast, you gasped as his other hand start to tenderly stroke your clit. " Tell me. " August urged you, hot breath against your skin. Leaning his head to yours, your lips were inches away from each other. " What do you need? " He inquired, quickening the pace of his fingers on your clit. " You. " You whimpered removing any spaces between your lips, pressing your mouth hard on his own.

You reached for his dick while seeking entrance into his mouth. Hooking your legs around his hips, holding unto him with one hand on his neck, you guided him forward with your other one. Teasing his hard shaft with your fingers. Heat and want were coursing through your veins making everything exquisite.

" That's it, sweetheart. " August moaned against your lips. " Put it in. " He added in a whisper.

He moved his hand away, holding you tightly against his body, his fingers piercing your waist. You tilted your head to the side pressing kisses and bites against his neck as he sunk inside you. Slowly. Filling you up. A deep groan escaped the agent's lips. He felt nice and long inside you. You sucked his skin, biting back your whimpers.

" You feel s'wet and good around me. " He panted his grasp on you growing tight on your skin. " Bad girl has the sweetest pussy for me to fill. " The dark-haired man purred rolling his hips against you, quickening his pace.

Each time he slammed into you, you felt him touching the sweet spot, building the beautiful sensation inside your pussy. His words made everything hot and sinful. You arched your back against the wall, moaning, digging your nails on his skin. He teased you with the tip of his dick on your slippery clit, stroking, before thrusting hard inside your bode. Again. And, again. Hot water pouring above your heads filled the room with steam.

" Open your mouth. " He ordered you, before swearing his voice low, grinding his hips against you.

You did. You opened your eyes as well. August's dark eyes met yours as he put a quick kiss against your lips before raising his hand to press his thumb against your tongue. You sucked on it, whimpering, your lips close around his finger.

" Fuck, you're so beautiful. "

Freeing his thumb from your mouth, he slid it down quickly to reach your clit. Stroking you quickly. And, then it happened so fast. Your orgasm erupted inside your pussy making you shake against him panting his name while the brillant sensation made you see stars.

" No. " August cried out, rolling his hips. " Open your eyes. Watch me. "

Tired and still trembling against the shower wall, you looked at him through your eyelids. Teeth biting down his lower lip, August groans grew louder, his hips jerked against you, filling you up as he reached his climax. You moved your arms around his neck pushing your forehead against his. Breathing hard, you licked your wet lips feeling the water becoming colder.

" We should get out. " You said, your voice rasped, you felt suddenly tired. Beautifully tired and satisfy. " Just a minute. " He answered, his cock was growing soft inside you. " I don't want any drop out of you. " You yawned leaning your head against the crook of his neck. " I will take care of you. " August continued putting a soft kiss on your cheek.

Your eyes were getting heavy with exhaustion feeling content.  August was holding you tight against his hard and huge body, kissing your forehead. You started to close your eyes, tiredness sinking into you, until a sharp pain erupted at your side, jolting you wild awake. You opened your eyes biting back your cry. You looked down, confused.  Blood. So much blood under the pale silver band of the knife mixing slowly with the cold water of the shower. Panting from pain, you shook your head, bewildered and feeling a little lightheaded, raising your eyes, you only saw red.

" No hard feelings love. " Agent Walker cocked his head to the side, thrusting the knife harder under your skin, pushing himself away from you, you winced trembling. A dark smile appeared on his mouth. "I told you, I will handle you, personally. "

°°°

Tags: @aleemendoza2425-blog​ @wheretheriversrunintothesea​ @poucinette1333​ @chvntelle-99 @iloveshawnieboi​ @rebekahdawkins​ @preciouscupcake​ @dorothea-hwldr @onlyvisuallybasic​ @accioparadise​ @mandiiblanche​ @undecidedsworld​ @biiskuitx​ @mansaayyy-blog​ @tinynshykitten​ @mogaruke​ @jamiemadd​

[cloudy-dayys]

obsessed w ur clef headcanons. do u have any more u can share? (luv ur art btw <333)

i would kill everyone on this planet for you and then myself tysm 💙💙

more clef headcanons (i will not be referencing 4231 in any of my clef posts just because that is very triggering for me, instead im gonna say he and 166's mom met one day when clef was in his late 20s, shit happened (ya know, they fucked), and boom he had to go and kill her and take 166)

#

· he was never really a child or teen, he was just a monster that happened to break into the foundation's reality one day (i say this bc i cant really imagine him as a child or teen, he's more monster than human and we may never know if he was a normal human that adopted these powers or came from smth else)

· he is both a reality bender and anchor, more so using his bending powers more

· he has many forms, whether the 'human' one is his true one or not is still a mystery, seeing as those he may not be showing his true capabilities or if he has another twisted form that is a lot more powerful

· he may be a rival of kondraki and they hate each other's guts, but he still respects him a lot. clef even met draven (kondraki's son) and admires how konny is a good dad, so he only gives kondraki a hard time and doesn't actually dislike him (clef 🤝 kondraki: good dads and clef finds it cute)

· more than anything, he wants to take meri out on a dad and daughter day. go to the movies, the mall, buy her anything she likes, etcetc. he thinks she deserves to be spoiled rotten (and she does!!)

· but he really dislikes how his daughter is super christian, so if she ever finds out he may be the devil or even states he could be anything satanic or sinful, it wont be pretty on her side

· his face isnt that comprehendible until u personally get closer to him. if ur a complete stranger to him, its impossible to directly look at his face without some sort of problem. it'll seem like static or as if nothing is there, and itll make u want to look away since its too much for ur brain to handle (can make people have headaches or their eyes sore). if ur a pal or a well known enemy of his, you'll see some features like his sharp and terrifying grin, and sometimes his 3rd eye (which will make anybody be in distress)

· he, surprisingly, has a great voice. what makes up for his lack of face or any horrifying features is his voice. sometimes you'll hear him hum a melody or quietly sing a song in his office, he sings more calming songs than anything energetic. if ur lucky enough he'll hop his ukulele out and start singing a wonderful and peaceful song

· he loves guns, but not in a weird way. back to my first headcanon, once he entered this reality and had a somewhat stable form, the minute he found out theres metal shiny things you can hold that make loud kaboom sounds and have many varieties hes like "holy shit!?!? that is so cool!!!!!!!" and its really his comfort item. he usually goes to any open range and practices bc it is a great distraction and he loves holdin em (like a stim!). he cleans em regularly, like a hobby of some sorts

· he's made his own songs before, but he keeps em in private. he may sing em for his daughter though!

· hes more in touch with anomalous beings then regular humans, cause every anomaly thats been locked up by the foundation can relate on something

· "hm. this small anomalous child has no (good) parental figure in their life? well that is clearly my child now. i am their new dad"

· he is very intelligent, you can never prank, trick, or pull any game on him. he can read gestures and cues very easily, and can pick up any weird vibes or feelins within his area

· hes definitely an anarchist, i dont make the rules

· he sometimes wishes he can live a normal life ina suburb home with an amazing s/o and his beautiful daughter and they live happily ever after. then he proceeds with "well where the hell is the fun in that?"

· he has yet to comprehend human emotions, mental illnesses or neurodivergency, he may be able to trick and mess with someone in their head, but being able to fully comprehend human feelings and such is far out of his abilities. maybe one day though

· mess with his friends or family? hes already at ur house bud. there's no saving ur miserable life now

· the infamous 'dr clef can't be affected by anomalous things or properties' still holds very true. he can be affected by 166's powers tho!

· he speaks 4-ish other languages: old greek/latin, german and french. he can gladly try and take up more languages tho, they amaze him!

#

i have more but i dont want to make this too long and borin for others lol

[reidecorating]

the bau team and their star signs based on science

hotch: clearly an aries. this is not up for debate and i don't take criticism. natural born and excellent leader? maybe. but bossy boots because he is just a bossy boss man who probably sleeps in a suit or those pyjamas that have suit graphics on them? most definitely. when he speaks, his voice sounds like it’s coming out in all lower case, when he yells, it’s all caps. angery. down to throw hands at anything in his immediate line of vision probably. will exterminate you like a roach if you mess with someone he cares about. don't break the rules or my boss will kill me 😡 to you're breaking the rules under MY supervision, that way my boss will kill US 🥰. probably microwaves food a lot. type of dad to say no to getting a dog, then two months later get matching christmas costumes with said dog. never stops working because he is an absolute UNIT built like the circuit of one of those infinity pools in bali. could use another sabbatical.

rossi: i saw his birth certificate and the rumours are true, he’s a november sagittarius. two wives away from being a modern day king henry the eighth. it’s rossi’s world and we’re all just living in it. he is a prophet. his third eye has been opened and he ascended to the seventh dimension at the age of 24. when he takes leave, the only way to contact him is through a ouija board in latin or maybe greek depending on the position of the sun. he will only die when he chooses to die but will dissolve at the words ‘what are we?’. the major arteries in his body are just long pieces of macaroni. definitely has hooked up with one person from every state the jet has landed in. no filter between his brain and mouth, will destroy your self confidence intentionally. uses abbreviations when texting. liberal - because of the experimenting back in college. probably friends with your mum on facebook.

prentiss: imagine her being anything but an air sign. you can't because she's clearly an aquarius?? work comes first (first equal with her girlfriend). if you tell her to do something she simply won't do it, especially if it was something she was just about to do. she once came home from a run with her mother in the summer and her mother politely suggested that she should drink some water. emily, an anarchist, did not drink water and was hospitalised for heatstroke in due course of proving her point of nonconformity. has been to jail. sucks on candy canes and makes them pointy because christmas is one of her least favourite days. on probation. no, i really like him *deletes his number*. maybe moves to iceland to become a sheep herder to avoid having to ever see anyone she has romantically affiliated with ever again. actually quite the jester, joke levels exceed 4000, but can make you laugh and cry in the span of approximately the length of a short youtube ad. the antichrist.

morgan: has at some point caused someone to question their sexuality. am i really a straight man? do i really only like women? - direct quotes from anyone who has seen him. if that doesn't scream libra i don't know what does. i’m trying to refrain from using the words ‘hot’, ‘sex god’, ‘rail me’. the kinda guy who will hold open a door for you, but also have no problem kicking one down for you. has never ditched class before. momma’s boy. tries to make his pecs move in the mirror. he KNOWS he’s hot okay??? but THEN its not just that because people are like ‘oh he's attractive’ but then they find out he’s RESPECTFUL, and INTELLIGENT and COMPASSIONATE and then that awkward moment when you just DIE because he is not flawed??? it’s like he’s a lucid dream??? probably secretly is really good at baking some obscure european good. uses colognes that have really manly man sounding names for instance, ‘Man Musk’, ‘Mystical Muscles’, ‘Beards and Buttercream’.

garcia: the epitome of a female pisces. a baddie™. definitely owns a pair of those really skinny sunglasses that influencers wear and looks like god herself while in them. spirals from being the momma bear to the wine-aunt. she will care about you so hard but if that's not reciprocated, will hack into your my eyes only and fax those pictures to every machine she can connect to. accidentally has flirted her way into at least 19 relationships. really good at writing fan fiction??? like - seriously good. knows 4 different synonyms for the word “member” iykyk. researches things the people she loves most enjoy, so when she talks to them she can have more detailed conversations. catches feelings for people who are definitely not good for her. sometimes just takes off her glasses because she's tired of, well... seeing. hand makes cute lil earrings for her friends. a master at fireboy and watergirl and will never play with anyone else because ‘another player just slows you down, i can do it myself in half the time’. THAT FRIEND WHO WILL WAIT FOR YOU TO TIE YOUR LACES.

jj: virgo. she was definitely that girl who had notes with pretty titles and colour coded highlighters in school. also did extracurriculars in the weekends so she’d have to be picked up from sleepovers early to go to soccer games. when she takes the time to learn something she learns it well and perfects any craft handed to her because anything less than 100% is failure in her eyes. gets annoyed when other people cry for too long probably. will judge you. so much. silently. especially if you cry. don't make her mad because she has caused civil unrest in 13 continents. live, laugh, love signs in her kitchen. security footage surfaced in 2007 of her roundhouse kicking a middle aged man, in the junk food aisle of a trader joe’s, after he took the last re-stocked bag of cheetos. has a ‘mom first, agent second’ mug that garcia got her. likes family walks which will most likely be planned out meticulously, involving a detailed itinerary of the day i.e. Henry’s toilet break, 10AM

reid: he despises star signs and anyone who gives them any thought because “where is the SCIENCE?” this bitch is a scorpio. definitely only knows his sun sign. so intense! have you seen the way he looks at things?? the way he stares??? the way he analyses dead bodies??? the way he loves??? ridiculously put together to everyone around him but emotionally life is soup and he is fork. kinky. breaks off bananas little by little with his hands before eating each piece individually because eating them normally is too sensual and he’s paranoid morgan might see him doing it and take a picture. wants the kind of love he reads about. has a superiority complex about having a superiority complex. keeps a straight face while saying literally anything so you cannot tell if he’s being serious or not like one day he’ll just be like “yeah i killed a man with an axe once to enable myself to more easily empathise with future unsubs who potentially work as lumberjacks or have a history of logging. it’s called method axing,” and then leave the room to draw circles on maps or something. believes that parallel parking should work, in theory, but never seems to work for him in practice.

[chrysalizzm]

Do you have fic recs or head canons? please ramble for paragraphs im bored and looking for something to read.

oh boy do i have some fic recs for you (and everyone who sees this), my friend! this one is quite long because there are a lot of fics i like and this isn’t all of them, so if you’d like more, you can check out my bookmarks page ^^

The Run and Go by Numanum 

“That’s not fair,” Bad protests. Dream raises an eyebrow at him and jerks his tied hands in emphasis, clearly saying that none of this is fair.

“Look, you keep running! Who runs if they’re not guilty?” Bad challenges, staring him down with obvious distrust from the generous distance of exactly five feet. It’s fair, as much as Dream hates to admit it; it’s not like he’s been the most honest hostage in the past, with all of his escaping and running and framing himself for his own murder, apparently.

“Only the good die young, and only the guilty run,” Technoblade chimes in, holding his own potato and sitting in the snow like it’s not cold at all.

A hot flash of irritation burns through him.

“Someone being chased?” he counters sarcastically, jerking his tied wrists up again to wave them in front of the group. Sapnap laughs so hard that he almost chokes on his potato, but it dies off when Dream gives him an icy stare.

Or: Dream is having a hard time, and the hunter just want to adopt him like a stray puppy that bites you at every opportunity.

multi-chapter, ongoing.

a manhunt with plot-style fic! exquisitely written, visceral in the emotions it evokes. it’s the kind of fic that makes me feel all shaky with anticipation, the kind that i have a physical reaction to; you can’t put it down.

pain. all-consuming pain. this one feels bad, man

and as he fell (you walked away) by Teahound

Once upon a time, there were three hunters.

They were good at what they did. If you wanted something-- or better yet, someone-- found, discovered, or destroyed, they were the people you asked. They didn’t have much to their name, besides a formidable reputation, but they were a team, and that was enough for them.

Once upon a time, there was a king in the forest.

He wore a mask, but it didn’t matter. That deep in the forest, in a hidden fortress, buried behind leaves and monsters and broken stone, no one could see his face anyway. He had been there a very long time, and he was alone.

Being a king can be a very lonely thing. So one day, the king left the fortress.

A Minecraft manhunt AU, with a fantasy twist. Dream is a cryptid, and Hunters are idiots.

multi-chapter (11), complete.

tea’s fic!! a manhunt-with-plot fic, featuring a forest spirit dream and circumstantial hunters and friendships that feel both intensely real and desperately melancholy because they can’t last.

or can they?

The Real World by Cinammonzoa and Fire_Fly464

"Ten, paces fire!"

Time stopped.

Tommy’s entire body went numb. He tried to open his mouth to say something, but his body was determined to keep him silent. His vision went dark, and he could no longer feel his headphones over his ears. The mouse in his hand. The slight breeze of his ceiling fan. For a few seconds, he couldn’t feel anything.

His senses came back to him all at once. The first thing Tommy noticed was the weight in his right hand -- a bow. His nostrils stung with the lingering scent of gunpowder. In front of him was a masked figure. Their right arm was bent, their elbow by their face. In their left hand was a bow, aiming directly at--

~~~

Aka Dream and Tommy get transported into the SMP world and have no idea what the fuck is happening

multi-chapter (23), complete

you’ve probably seen this one if you haunt the video blogging rpf/minecraft tags of ao3 often! an irl!dream and tommy replace their smp counterparts type of beat, very upbeat in dynamic and fun to keep pace with, great read.

staying alive (though the city is dead) by Alice_Not_In_Wonderland

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't," Schlatt smirks, his words lilting, almost song-like. His eyes seem to glow brighter. "Tell me, Dream, when did you realize that you could talk and talk and talk and no one would ever believe you?"

---

or: if dream's damned to be a villain in every story he's in, then he's going to show them exactly how much of one he can be

one-shot, complete.

the gratuitous greek mythology references are truly everything and this fic is such a good dissection of dream and schlatt’s motivations and how their goals intersect, and dream’s likening to cassandra really hits different 

Green & Gold by HognoseSnake

George’s legs ached.

His lungs felt tight and too small.

His breath was loud in his ears.

His pack bounced uncomfortably on his shoulders.

George, homeless and adrift, is an outlaw of the Mad King's reign. He'd spent the last two months being hunted across the wilderness at the fringe of society by a ruthless killer in a smiling mask and bright green coat. This, he understood.

What he didn't understand is why such a ruthless killer kept letting him go.

multi-chapter (8), complete. sequel ongoing.

a breathtaking pseudo-manhunt-with-plot fic, with george and dream running from a kingdom that wants them dead for perceived transgressions. this shit hurted, and the sequel hurts even worse ;-; snake please i beg

We’re Only Young series by ImperialKatwala

It's easy to forget amid the chaos and bloodshed how similar - and how young - Dream and Technoblade really are.

collection of both one-shots and ongoing multi-chapter fics.

((bangs on table)) please read this series it is dream and techno friendship fics that alternate between lighthearted and heartwrenchingly comforting and imperialkatwala’s characterisation of them and their respective groups of family and friends is so frickin’ good i read this series when i’m not having a good day and it never fails to make me crack a smile

kept promises and old ruins and names carved into stone by verecundiam

"Would you... would you want to stay here?" Bad wrings his hands, looking away. "Like, like actually stay? I know it's not, ah, not exactly comfortable, or all that homey, but I don't want you two to get hurt out there on your own, and I just... I think maybe you could stay? If you want?"

"That sounds nice," Sapnap says, because it does.

(Or: How four kids managed to build a family, against all odds.)

one-shot, complete.

muffinteers found family that makes me want to go to the smp writers and beg it to be made canon. unbelievably soft yet excellent at parsing out the younger counterparts of the four and creating backgrounds that feasibly form them into the people they grow up to be.

in the age of icons by BananasofThorns

“Yeah, keep digging,” Tommy crows.

The pickaxe hesitates on the downswing. The air shifts; Dream’s aura bursts into visibility, brilliant green and jagged. Ozone hums on Techno’s tongue and Bad stutters in the middle of his sentence. Up on the wall, silhouetted by the sun, Dream stands frozen and furious.

L'manberg messes with something it shouldn't. Techno watches the repercussions and tries not to laugh.

one-shot, complete.

i love deity aus (figures, i wrote one myself akjdfh), and this one hits. there’s something exquisitely delicate about how dream and the repercussions his godhood both on himself and on the people who are exposed to him in that moment of unbridled rage.

that's how we keep going (we make the best of things) by lieyuu

[ i can’t decide if this is heaven or hell. the walls keep closing in and we’re running out of space, but you’re pretty cute ]

“So, do you want to build a flower shop, a cottage, or a coffee shop?” Puffy asks, smiling like just Niki’s presence is enough to light up her world.

Niki looks at her, thinks, I want to bend nature to my will and weave tapestries in your name, says, “I think I might like the flower shop best.”

one-shot, complete.

a niki/puffy fic that crushed me in its hands in just six hundred words.  the delicate love and wonder and beauty of this fic killed me softly and i welcomed it. it’s girls in love rendered by lieyuu’s masterful hand, what more could you want

i need it to be known that as i was typing up my thoughts midnight love by girl in red started playing from my playlist if that’s not a shining endorsement i don’t know what is

did i ruin the moment? by itisjosh

Ranboo drags himself through the snow, burn wounds going up and down his body. His suit is crumpled, half of it discarded as he crawls along the ground. His eyes are firmly pressed shut, and he refuses to open them, just in case he sees him, Dream, again. Ranboo sobs as the snow melts on his skin, the water scalding him as it trickles down his arms and chest.

one-shot, complete.

it’s character death, i do need to put it out there because it felt like i was punched in the stomach at the end even though i knew. josh knows exactly how to drag his readers kicking and screaming into angst hell, as always - a ranboo is rescued by phil fic wherein ranboo ends up convincing himself that the only reason for his presence in the nearly-empty anarchist commune is because phil sees him as a placeholder for his sons ;-; pain

Frame The Halves, And Call Them Brothers by MusicallyActive

"Let's go!" Quackity roared. "Let's fucking go!"

The anvil dropped, and Techno reached for his totem of undying. This was going to hurt like a bitch.

Phil screamed something, and instantly a crushing force struck Technoblade's skull. It rattled him to the core, doused his vision in red, and then all he knew was black.

He gasped awake moments later to the sound of his communicator pinging softly at his bedside table, and when Technoblade opened his eyes, New L'manburg was nowhere in sight.

one-shot, complete.

a techno timeloop fic that shows off the unintentional cruelty of the children who run l’manberg and techno’s own inability to allow the people he tries so hard not to love to come to harm. techno’s rendered in painstaking detail; this one was cathartic in the best way.

on i go (move to move) by Aenqa

If you ask someone whether they’ve ever experienced real, severe physical pain, you’ll learn a lot from their response.

Techno knows what it means to be in pain. He’s accepted it as a necessary consequence of keeping his family safe. But when the pain he's experiencing starts to become too much to bear alone, it takes his family to show him what it might mean to feel better.

one-shot, complete.

chronic pain fic featuring sbi!! it’s really good - aenqa wrote chronic pain well, and incorporated respawn mechanics into it well, and the dynamic between sbi is impeccable.

Yellow and Blue and- by nic_takes_Ls (nic_L)

It’s another gorgeous day in New L’Manberg. Tubbo’s stilted streets of deep toned spruce and honey-touched oaks are warm under his feet from the sun, and a sign and a small banner proclaim the country’s name in front of his face. Wilbur is so happy to let the ‘L’ roll of his tongue as he says it, ‘Manberg’ was harsh and too guttural, but the two extra syllables make it something that could fit on a melody, a four-note beat he could set the pace of his unbeating heart to.

The citizens of New L’Manberg track him with cautious eyes at first, until Tubbo changes his eyes to slightly sad ones, listening along to Wilbur’s rambles, warming up to the truly soot-grey sight of his face and sunshine yellow of his ever-present sweater. The rest of the population soon follow, laughing at Wilbur’s strange innocence and telling him what he’s done with only a little bit of spite in a pitying mask and fixing their mouths in a line when he suddenly forgets what he’s doing or stares into space or laughs at nothing.

But all the people who get sad when Wilbur starts laughing after shock-still silence are dumb.

Because Wilbur’s not laughing at nothing.

one-shot, complete.

a ghostbur fic from quite early on! it includes references to wilbur and schlatt’s older videos/smp experiences and has a super interesting take on the nature of wilbur’s amnesia i enjoyed this fic a lot ^^

east of eden series by subwaywalls

Philza protects his home.

(An angel with a singing blade of fire guards the gates to paradise.)

two one-shots, one ongoing multi-chapter fic.

READ IT READ IT READ IT. the eoe series is exquisite in both content and presentation, centering around sbi and the powers they all respectively have but also bringing in people like grian and dream, and subwaywalls is a master of packaging her words ever so delicately to create an experience that is ethereal.

[badmoonyellow]

HP HEADCANON: PARIS UNIVERSITY

𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓾𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓼 ✯ 𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈

(click here for contents)

There are five different facultés (abr. fac) in Paris, each one called by a number and the name of a famous wizard/witch or a district in Paris. Each fac has its specificities and various pathways that should please most of the young students trying to find what they want to do with their life after they graduate

Paris I — Babel: Modern languages, dead languages, magical languages, magicology, magical literature, theoretical studies of magical and non-magical art

Paris II — Ruggieri: Astrology, astronomy, divination, theology, psychology, philosophy and sociology

Paris III — Nicolas et Pernelle Flamel: Alchemy, occult sciences, arithmancy and mathematics, magical and non-magical medicine, biology

Paris IV — Cluny: Botanics, care of magical creatures, potions, magical geology and crystal healing, elementary magic

Paris V — Kardec: Necromancy, spiritism, divination, transfiguration, illusionism and oneiric magic, hypnosis and psychology

French students either use the number or the name of the uni to refer to it, never both. Ex: “I did my masters at Paris IV”, “I was a teacher at Cluny for two years” or “Flamel has the best course for arithmancy”

Paris universities are known for being selective but welcome students from every social class: there are no tuition fees except for social security which is calculated on the income of the student or their household if they still live with their parents. The more you earn, the more you pay but it is capped to 20 galleons per student (roughly 450€). If you’re doing a joint honour degree in two different fac, you won’t have to pay twice.

Be careful with this because French bureaucracy is kind of a mess, especially when it comes to uni life. Most people working for the administration have a precise timetable they like to stick to and won’t be kind to you if you raise your voice, even if you’ve been waiting for 2h at their door because the only free time you had is during their lunch break. But sometimes, the right owl sent to the right person will be enough, so don’t hesitate to communicate!

Depending on which fac you’re attending, you’ll probably meet a lot of different people but since we’re French (a.k.a. judgmental), each fac has a typical profile of students:

Students from Babel are considered clever and cultivated but most people think they just don’t really know what they want to do with their life yet. They enjoy uni life in Paris and spend time hanging out with a great deal of foreign students from every part of the world, learning and researching for academic purpose. They create more or less harmful spells and like to talk in latin or ancient greek on a daily basis. They make inside jokes about politics and are the first ones to go on strike any time they don’t agree with the government’s decisions. Very diplomatic and charismatic but also kinda conceited since Babel was the first actual French magical faculté in the Sorbonne (this title is also claimed by the Perrault Institute). They love to debate about any topic of the wizarding world and for the most part, they know a lot about the non-magical world too since they study languages spoken by muggles as well.

Students from Ruggieri are more discreet and contemplative. They are passionate and having your astral chart drawn up by one of them feels like becoming an open book, even though knowing about astrology doesn’t always mean being intuitive. They aren’t known for being empathetic though, and they have a tendency to despise divination techniques that aren’t based on what’s written in the stars (students from Kardec can tell). They love mythology, mind games and poetry. They often go to the countryside beyond Paris’ suburbs to escape light pollution and if you’re lucky, they might invite you to their next nocturnal picnic in Seine-et-Marne.

Students from Flamel are hard-working and competitive since medicine studies (and other courses taught in this university) follow the numerus clausus method. You have more chances to see a Flamel student at the BAM (Bibliothèque Académique de Magie, en. Academic Library for Magic) than attending any of the cool parties young French witches and wizards organise throughout the year. Actually, since the BAM is physically part of Paris I, this has created a long-time resentment among students who all claim priority to access the Library. Flamel students are ambitious and passionate by their field but suffer from a great deal of pressure since failing one exam can be  eliminatory. They also have the worst writing ever.

Students from Cluny are seen as the weird hippies of the academic wizarding world. Always down for going on a trip or testing new things. Their shared interest in elementary magic makes them very welcoming and warm since they tend to focus on how a group is stronger than an individual and how you can always seek for help in others (“others” sometimes meaning plants, animals or rocks). They are very genuine and you won’t know for sure if they are really down-to-earth or if they constantly keep their head in the clouds. They love going outdoors and escape the city from time to time but they can also spend hours (days) underground cultivating fungi. Laugh now if you want to, but they get the best kind of psychedelics and liquors for your next party and they won’t bring any if you make fun of them. Also, they throw their own parties in cool speakeasies all over the Mines. Keep your ears open if you want to get the password!

Students from Kardec are actually the real anarchists of the academic landscape, even though Babel tries to steal their far-left thunder. Non-conformists, skeptical and teasing, they love throwing some unpopular opinion in a debate and watch how it takes. You’ll see them at protests and art events since they hang out a lot with students from the ENSBAMO and the Académie de Musique. They generally have no filter whatsoever and are also trying to figure out what they want to do with their life but even though they seem a bit puzzling at times, they’re really sweet. They might know their way around the Mines better than students from Cluny and believe me when I tell you this: they throw the best Halloween party every year — apparently being located in a cemetery helps a lot.

Of course, these are reputations, not distinctive character traits and every student is different from the other so don’t worry: you’ll fit right in wherever you want to go!

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

Hey, i really like minecraft and used to watch mcyt's back when i was younger. I was wondering if you could maybe guide me into the dream smp series. I have no idea where to start or what people are partaking in it. It seems so active rn and you seem to be invested in the plotlines and such so i thought maybe you can help me?

Okay!

The Dream SMP: A History

Warnings for drugs, the selling of drugs, drinking, war, death, explosions, and human/fish relationships

So, once upon a time, there was a Minecraft server.

It didn't have much of a plot or drama, everyone was just kind of playing the game

Then Wilbur showed up.

An important thing to remember about this server: It’s all Wilbur’s fault, except when it’s Dream’s.

Anyway, Wilbur decided to start a Minecraft drug empire (re: potions) out of a hto dog van (I did not misspell that. It’s called the hto dog van).

But they all lived in Dream’s server (Dream is the main Ruler/God/Inconceivable Green Dude of the SMP) and under Dream’s rule. 

He interfered with their “drug” business, so Wilbur did the only logical thing: Declared independence and formed his own nation to sell more “drugs”!

The nation was called L’Manburg, but Dream wasn’t a fan of any of this

And so the Revolution began!!

Part One: The Disc Wars

The main players were Wilbur (the most theater kid of them all), Tommy (The closest thing to a shonen protagonist this thing has), Tubbo (sunshine personified, likes bees, can lie though), and Eret (fuck Eret /j) (In all seriousness, they're awesome)

It was a hard battle.

Dream had way more people. The revolutionaries were outgunned, outmanned, outnumbered, and out planned. And that was before Eret betrayed them.

Eret killed off all of their fellow revolutionaries in exchange for Dream giving them a kingdom.

All seemed lost (Tommy even tried to duel Dream despite being 16 and not the best at combat. He got killed quickly.)

Tommy hadn’t really cared about the revolution in the beginning, but at the end he gave up his most prized possessions (his music discs) to get Dream to leave them alone.

And L’Manburg was an independent nation!

Everyone celebrated in the ways they knew best

In Wilbur’s case, that was sleeping with a fish (yes. a fish. it was a salmon, if that clears anything up) named Sally and having a son: Fundy, furry extraordinaire!

Somehow the middle ground between Salmon and Human is Fox, as Fundy is an anthropomorphic fox.

He was the first person born in L’Manburg, and it seemed like there was to be peace throughout the land once more.

Take one flying guess who screwed that up.

Part Two: The Election

If you guessed Wilbur, we have a winner!

He decided that he needed to win an election to rule the country, and ran as POG 2020, or Wilbur for President.

But he wasn’t unopposed.

Enter Quackity (yes, this is the guy Trump vague tweeted), wanting power but being chill about it, as usual. He decided to throw his beanie into the political ring as Quackity 2020.

It seemed like an easy race, since Wilbur had liberated the nation and Quackity was just Some Guy at this point.

Then, Fundy and Nikki decided to run as Coconut 2020 in a third party bid for the presidency.

THEN, when Schlatt (senile old goat, the corrupt businessman archetype, often drunk) came up to the stage to endorse a candidate, he instead rambled into the mic that he was running for president too.

Like the senile old man they all thought he was.

Little did they know.

Wilbur still could have easily won this election. He was popular and everything. Then, he made a decision.

(Wilbur didn't need to do this, but like all tragic heroes and/or theater kids, he had hubris and was going to make it Everyone's Problem)

He went up to Quackity and suggested that they combine their votes. Quackity wasn't going to win either way, but this way he'd get to be vice president.

Quackity saw that it made sense, but decided that he wanted to be petty that day, and decided to combine votes with Schlatt instead.

And then the votes were counted

Team Coconut came in fourth because they cheated

Team Schlatt came in third because no one wanted the drunken, senile goat to be president

Team Quackity came in second

And Team Wilbur won in a landslide, taking 45% of the votes! 

Tommy ran out of the video to tell his mom they won. And then Wilbur revealed the deal Quackity and Schlatt struck. 

Quackity+Schlatt got 46% of the votes. Schlatt was president of L’Manburg. 

Schlatt immediately takes the podium and starts giving a dramatic speech that sounds less Senile Goat more Dangerous Dictator Goat. He orders that Team Wilbur leave the nation of L'Manburg Manburg (he renamed the country) under threat of death.

Part Three: The Festival

Team Wilbur became Pogtopia, Schlatt and crew became Manburg, and L'Manburg became a nostalgic dream.

The Pogtopians hope to reclaim their nation, and get this absolute madman on their team.

The dude spent a year just farming potatoes to beat someone in a contest. He regularly quotes The Art Of War. He's a die-hard anarchist.

Behold: Technoblade.

So Manburg is a dictatorship at this point in the tale, and Pogtopia is trying its best. 

They have Technoblade, Tommy, Wilbur, probably someone I'm forgetting, and Tubbo. 

Tubbo is their spy on the inside (so is Fundy, but he hasn't even told Pogtopia he's spying for them, so he's regarded as a traitor)

Then the Festival rolls around

Wilbur has been spiraling, and having a little corruption arc because of course the theater kid decides to kin Hamlet (or is it Macbeth in this situation?) 

A day before the festival, he reveals that he's planning on blowing up L'Manburg, because if he can't have it no one can.

The festival comes around, and surprise! Tubbo is publicly executed in front of a crowd!

Schlatt figured out he was a traitor, so he ordered that Techno execute him.

Techno did, but because he was peer pressured. 

Then Techno killed pretty much everyone at the festival with fireworks!

Wilbur tried to blow up the place, but lost the button to detonate the TNT (Side note: The TNT was given to him by Dream. Because of course.)

Part Four: The Revolution 2 (Electric Boogaloo)

By the time the true war for L’Manburg rolls around, next to no one is on Schlatt’s side.

Quackity betrays him, Fundy betrays him, even Eret is back on the side of Pogtopia.

The war went by fast, and Schlatt was surrounded by former allies and enemies alike.

Schlatt had a heart attack before anyone could actually kill him, and died as pathetically as he’d lived. Anti-climactic, but everyone was happy.

Wilbur declared Tommy, our protagonist, president.

Tommy declined the presidency, saying that he needed to search for his discs first. He declared Wilbur president of L’Manburg once more.

Wilbur declined the presidency and declared Tubbo president

Tubbo accepted and gave a lovely speech

And then it all goes to shit. "Surely not all of it?" Yeah. All of it.

Wilbur (yes. it was wilbur.) explodes L’Manburg, finally pressing the button to destroy his nation despite his dad trying to stop him.

His own father, Philza, kills him

Stabs the Wilbur

Everyone panicks

And that's when Techno decided it was Chaos Time.

He stands on the ashes of L'Manburg, and said that no government will be allowed to rise in the entire SMP. Tommy objects, and Techno gives this speech:

do you think you’re a hero, tommy?

the thing about this world tommy, is that good things don’t happen to heroes. let me tell you a story, tommy. a story about a man called theseus. his country—well his city-state technically—was in danger. and he sent himself forward into enemy lines. he slayed the minotaur and saved his city.

and you know what they did to him, tommy?

they exiled him. he died in disgrace, despised by his people. that’s what happens to heroes, tommy. the greeks knew the score. but if you want to be a hero, tommy. that’s fine.

do you want to be a hero tommy?

THEN DIE LIKE ONE.

And then he spawns two withers (one of which is named Subscribe To Technoblade) and all hell breaks loose.

Part Five: The Aftermath (aka Where Are They Now?)

Since then, Tubbo has been trying to rebuild L’Manburg. It’s a canal town now, and it looks lovely. He’s a good President.

Tommy isn’t the best Vice President, but once he stops banning people from the country he should be good.

Nikki has left the fox Wilbur gave her in Pogtopia.

Speaking of abandoned foxes, Fundy’s dealing with the death/betrayal of his dad, as well as not getting on that well with the others. He’s also engaged to Dream.

Yes, you read that right. Dream and Fundy are getting married. Fundy met their eldritch overlord on what was pretty much a blind date, and they just clicked.

Eret is adopting Fundy! She has no kingdom any more, but she’s recovered some honor and now has a son.

Philza is dealing with the fact that he killed his son, and may try to resurrect him.

Schlatt is still dead (but is he really gone?)

Quackity is....doing some worrisome things, getting vague tweeted at by Trump, ate Schlatt’s heart, and might be possessed by him??

Technoblade is still doing his own thing, I think

And Wilbur? Wilbur is an amnesiac ghost, blocking out the memories of when he was hurt or a bad person.

There’s way more to say on the subject of the Dream SMP, but this is the basics! Hope this helped!

[piracytheorist]

Tagged by @thebadgerfoxdraws. Thank you!

Name/nickname: I don’t share it publicly here, but you’re welcome to call me lillpon :P

Gender: Cis woman but I can’t tell you myself what this means for me lol

Star sign: Cancer

Height: 1.6 m

Time: As I’m typing this it’s 6:48 pm

Birthday: 23 June

Favorite bands: System of a Down, Blackmore’s Night, Muse... though right now even listening to music I like is a hard thing to get into. I hate everything.

Favorite solo artists: Again I’m in a state of ConfusionTM but I’m currently loving Fiona Apple

Songs stuck in my head: None currently

Last movie: I think it was While You Were Sleeping.

Last show: I’ve lately been binging some Greek TV shows from the 00′s, I don’t remember what the last non-Greek show I watched was. I think The Right Stuff?

When did i make this blog: September 2015. Wow, has it been five and a half years?

What I post: Mostly stuff about Colin O’Donoghue and the fictional characters he portrays, but lately because of things sucking in general I share feelings and some anarchist thoughts.

Last thing I gοοgled: “can psychological trauma be passed down” (yes it can) just so that I can have sources next time a conservative tells me the new generations are “too sensitive”

Other blogs: I’m mostly using this one because organization? idk her but also because I’m bored of switching all the time. I’ve got a blog for the heavy whump stuff, that’s @justsomewhump if anyone’s interested :P 

Do I get asks: Sometimes, though not as often nowadays as when OUAT was airing

Why I chose my url: When I made the email I use, I put the word “lillies” in it (incorrectly spelled that way) and then gοοgle asked me for a name and surname for my account. I put “Lilly Pond” because I couldn’t think of anything else. Then I came here, and it asked me for a username and I remembered the lilly pond thing so I just combined it into lillpon.

Following: 95

Followers: 1474

Average hours of sleep: 8-9

Lucky number: Don’t have one

Instruments: Mostly singing, and a bit of piano

What I am wearing rn: A pair of old comfy clothes that I use as pajamas

Dream trip: Hawaii and Lapland

Favorite food: Mostly anything with pasta

Nationality: Greek

Favorite song: how do people even answer that question. I have a favourite song for every artist I listen to, for every music soundtrack I like, for every classical music piece I like... Idek, I’ll go with Fiona Apple’s Extraordinary Machine

Last book I read: Headhunters by Jo Nesbø

Top three fictional universes: Stardust, Treasure Planet, Hobbiton without the war

Favorite color: Sometimes blue, sometimes purple 

[fapangel]

What is your counterargument to "Americans have no culture"? Serious long-form answer, no imageposts.

As a Greek-American, I have a unique perspective on this; because I can compare American culture to my ancestral culture; the culture; the culture that gave the world mathematics, natural science, medicine and works of literature that are still mandatory courses of study for high school students world-wide. A culture so vibrant that the Romans themselves just Romanized the names of our Gods and eagerly adopted them as their own; not so much adopting our culture as merging our enlightened ideas of intellectual pursuit with their pragmatic, down-to-earth engineer’s mindset to build works of architecture still revered today for their beauty, functionality and longevity. 

And all that glorious, beautiful culture has done Greece diddly squat. 

Look at it. Look at Greece; a nation impoverished, mocked and maligned; a nation that’s become the Mexico of Europe. That’s not a joke; back in the 70s the rail line between Greece and Germany was called the “Athens express” for how many Greek migrant workers rode it. The EU’s One Currency To Rule Them All guaranteed that someone in the bloc, unable to devalue their currency to manage changes in the global market, would emerge the loser, and once again it was Greece. The Greeks only participated in the 1930s Olympics because wealthy Greeks in America took up a collection and sent it over to them, and Greeks in America are still better off than they are in the homeland. Greece, the nation that invented democracy, soon forgot how to use it; they were ruled by a military dictatorship from 67 to 74 in a tragicomic reversion to the spasms of tyranny that sometimes gripped Athens in Classical Antiquity. Their civil government denies them many important rights; such as firearms ownership, and is only held in check by a combination of Greek’s inborn anarchist spirit and a woefully incompetent civil government that makes Italy’s civil service look like the fucking Swiss. Building a house in Greece is sometimes tantamount to filing a lawsuit due to this. And that’s to say nothing of the “anarchists,” i.e. the fucking communists who still firebomb the occasional building and contribute to a constant, low-level civil unrest significantly worse than anything antifa has managed stateside. 

So tell me, if you can - what has Greece’s vaunted “culture” done for it? What has it done for Greece, with its worm-riddled civil government, its impoverished people, with hoards of Middle Eastern refugees that Europe refuses to deal with? What has it done for Greece, having married into the globalists wet dream of a Unified European State, only to find that it was the designated loser? What has it done for Greece, which, having forfeited its economic independence to the globalist agenda, then finds itself left to defend itself with what little GDP it has left for military expenditures, now that Germany has gutted its own army, France still doesn’t give a single begotten fuck about alliances that don’t immediately impact their own interests, and the UK is worried about scraping the cash together just to defend themselves? Pray tell, what, exactly, does Greece have that America does not? 

America has media empires that resound across the world; the reach of Hollywood is vast. Donald Duck, Porky Pigs, Bugs Bunny are recognized from the Mongolian steppes to the savanna of sub-Saharan Africa. Our cultural influence on the globe is so mighty that Buick is still a big fucking deal in China, despite the globalists having willingly given away our role as world manufacturer to China itself, for the Chinese remember the impoverished days when the Party big-wigs all rolled around in American-built Buicks. American culture is a unique cultural attitude towards violence where a finger-poke counts as assault in many jurisdictions, but lays the necessary groundwork for the only country of its size on Earth where most people have the right to carry a loaded weapon on their person for the purpose of self defense. American culture is a strain of individualism matched only by its innate suspicion of government; a frontiersman attitude, not an inability to work together, as alt-right collectivists allege, but a pragmatic mindset that says nobody is coming to help you, or even nobody is going to help you in time, and thus frees people to help themselves. 

Even the comforts of our modern age cannot dull this; as it is written too deeply in the structure of our laws and the stories of our national mythos; the default reruns on daytime broadcast TV around here are old Westerns like Bat Masterson or Rawhide. One of the most incisive observations of Japanese culture I’ve ever seen I found in The Atlantic of all places; the commentary on how Japanese TV is always played in the background, a passive venue for programming responses that people then execute, word for word, at social events, as the author grouses towards the end. The American version is nowhere near as deliberate, of course; just our culture’s older mythos being churned up like a cow chewing her cud, but it’s there - and it’s all cowboy western ass-kicking or, at night, 80s action-movie asskicking. We mine it because that’s all there is to mine, from the bottom up. 

And what are the effects on Americans? If you strip away innate advantages of provenance and wealth? If you deny him his technology and money and pit him against enemies of homogeneous ethnicity and Strong Ancient Cultures, rifle to rifle, bayonet to bayonet, hand to hand? What emerges then? 

You find the men who took the Omaha and Utah beacheads with only rifles and grenades, after half their armored support floundered in the channel, preparatory bombardments missed their mark, and American faith in technology and firepower overall failed, and miserably. 

You find the Marines who held Edson’s Ridge against the Japanese, emerging victorious from brutal hand-to-hand combat in the dark. 

You find dead men walking who refuse to stop fighting until their last round and their last breath. 

In short, you find victors. Of the governments who’ve opposed us, many no longer exist - and yet we are still here. 

So where, exactly, am I supposed to detect America’s alleged lack of “culture?” The performance of our society in total war has been superlative; even our most astounding fuck-ups demonstrate just how bad an idea it is to piss us off. We have a national mythos of our own, complete with great heroes and their noble quests. We have icons and monuments built by our own hand, often to venerate those heroes. We have our own land; one we had to fight for, bleed for, and tame, one that is ancient and filled with natural wonders of staggering scope and beauty. And we have the same collectivists and fifth-columnists and globalists that Europe has, except they hold less sway here, despite the much-vaunted Culture of Europe’s ancient nations and peoples. 

So where is the tell-tale? Where is the casual link between America’s fortunes and her alleged “lack of culture?” For that matter, where is the casual link between Europe’s cultures and their fortunes? Where is the evidence? What even is the point of that phrase, “America has no culture?” 

The truth is that there is none; it is empty sloganeering of the “just asking questions” kind; trading entirely on trolling witless neoliberals incapable of defending the inconsistencies in their own platforms due to their inability to acknowledge reality. The alt-right never has to defend their platform as a coherent theory, because their only detractors are either fellow collectivists who share their basic premises and care nothing for critique, as they are of the out-group to them - a different collective - and thus not even human. With the lolbertarians trivially easy to keep on the defensive, that leaves nobody, nobody at all, as the actual constituency of the GOP, that have rallied behind Trump would’ve been called centrists thirty years ago and want nothing to do with collectivism, no matter what collective it claims to defend. 

The vast majority of them are full of shit, and it is not hard to prove it. 

[37womenwieldingknives]

it’s deeply, deeply unfair that sophie has died. when i was in athens, so much of my time was coloured with music. i went to bars in exarchia where people and music spilled out onto the police-free streets, i saw lena platonos and giannis palamidas perform live, in car rides i listened to greek punk bands sing about killing 1000 cops for every dead anarchist. with everything about athens, it’s completely natural that sophie and her queer, glossy, pvc, experimental pop sound discovered a home there.

i haven’t experienced many artists special to me dying, but at a time when the world feels like blow after blow after blow against marginalised people, sophie’s death feels like another that hits hard. i guess these blows come in the form of both accidental stargazing deaths and disaster products of capitalism, the former an unavoidable part of our being, the latter subsuming so much of our lives that it feels like it might as well be too.

i have a personal attachment to athens, to me it represents a city containing the spark of different potentialities away from this continuous struggle, i love that city, and for an extraordinary trans artist like sophie to live and die there makes me emotional.

so much about my time in athens was also about queer love. my friends in athens told me to go out dressed as queer as possible and we walked between queer squats that fight the police. right now, so much of the daily struggle in the UK comes from increasing right-wing media attacks against trans people and so many of the blows are against queer people. the harassment and demonisation of trans women in the UK right now is relentless and i dread about what’s to come. i’m currently talking about gender and trans issues way more than i want to be. athens represents a future possibility away from all that for me and it’s difficult to accept that a trans woman as innovative and creative as sophie can die so young there, even in an accident. it’s unfair.

the truth is, athens is far from some utopia. when we were dressing as queer as possible, we knew we were also dressing for a fight. three years ago, queer activist zak/zackie kostopoulos was killed by cops in athens. athens is still a place where queer people get murdered and our trans heroes can die from falling when trying to view the moon. it’s a reminder that, no matter how many blows we receive, we can’t put hope in abstract things, only ourselves and each other. our favourite cities will let us down.

anyway, what i’m saying is that us trans girls are having a hard time, sophie was a light, and i want a place where we’re invincible. i’ve collapsed unavoidable grief and capitalist violence together here, because that’s how i’m feeling right now, but the latter can of course be overcome. for now, struggle, vulnerability, violence, grief are feeling ordinary. but also, when that is the ordinary, then blows pass and we are sustained by the unordinary; love, tenderness, moments of joy, and warm memories. i’ll forever be grateful for what sophie’s music has taught me – things which would take me far too long to write here – and whilst her death is a tremendous loss, she left behind so much for us. rest in peace a legend.

[biiscione]

               INTRODUCTIONS: Panagiotis  &&  Konstantinos                  “ Κατα μανα κατα κυρη κατα γιο και θυγατερα                                        De tal palo tal astilla.                        The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. ”

***please check the end of post for tw/cw before continuing Background Panagiotis, preferably Panos, is of Greek and Armenian descent. His parents, formerly Greek nationals, immigrate to the United States after the birth of their first child, Jocasta, and it is in the Olympia, Washington that their son is born. His early childhood is happy though odd as he grows into two worlds: one of his revolutionary refugee parents exiled from their homeland and the other of American Suburbia. Death continuously alters his course, distorting a happy childhood into one of pain and suffering. Forced to live with his father’s brother and his wife in New Jersey, he endures abuses hurled at him until his late uncle’s death. Hardened and barely a teenager, he travels northward to the Big Apple. In Brooklyn he finds a way to make money, not in the most honest of ways, but hey, it keeps a roof over his head. While collecting rent for some big mucky - muck landlords in Bushwick, he ends up meeting who will be the mother of his son. She’s a few years old than he but just as calloused to the world. There time together is short - lived and a few months after Konnie is born, Panos is a single father. Strapped for cash and getting to know the truth of his parent’s past as anarchist revolutionaries, he endeavors to travel to his distant family in Macedonia where he then leaves his son and travels to Athens. Following in his father’s footsteps is quite easy and he takes to the streets just as he had to fight tyranny and fascism. This dreamlike sequence of valor ends with the death of a close friend, collateral damage to the volatile politics in Athens, and Panos’s own incarceration in his own failed attempt at a revenge killing. After serving his time, he returns to Macedonia to find his infant son already a smart, sensitive little boy. In a quarter-life crisis and realizing he needs to get his shit together for his son, he finds mercenary work in Central Asia and the Middle East.... and he hates it. There’s just something about assisting a private military organization stage de facto wars on resource - rich regions that didn’t sit right with him. So, after ensuring his payment, he throws a wrench or two into his employer’s plans and dips as fast as he can. He returns to Athens briefly, hoping to find permanent work that didn’t necessarily compromise his morality. A friend informs him of a mercenary job in Italy as a glorified bodyguard so he takes it upon himself to travel there with his son and what little money he has left. There’s nothing like an in-person interview, right? Panos lands the job working for a reclusive, wealthy man ( mostly on account of him being somewhat attractive and a single dad ) and the rest is history. Personality Abrasive and aggressive doesn’t necessarily mean bitter and unkind. He can be loud and a little too friendly at times ( a mask for his borderline - crippling anxiety and undiagnosed mood disorder ) but just chalk it up to his blended accent. Overtly sexual jokes and blunt questioning is meant to vet any weakness in the prospects of friendship, while also being a handy - dandy tool to be antisocial. He dislikes authority figures but as he ages, he tends to keep his cool as long as they leave him alone. While he airs less on the polite side of socializing, he does hold himself to a high moral code, nothing too chivalrous or anything, but he would defend another’s human rights with his very life. He’s loyal to a fault and has a hard time distancing himself from those he has grown fond of, even when their morals do not align with his own. Appearance He stands 6′ (give or take a half inch) with lax posture and lean frame. Tawny - colored hair, long - topped with a short undercut, is typically dressed in pomade and slicked back. He has blue eyes, icy or azure dependent on lighting. Olive - toned skin stays paled as he keeps away from the sun. Nose is shaped in the classic hellenic fashion, rather, it was . . . it’s been broken so many times that it sits crookedly upon his face, a bump breaking the Greek silhouette of his bridge. Full lips settle into a pout on his rarely expressionless face. His face is quite square, accentuated with a wide jaw. High cheekbones are accentuated not by makeup but tattoos, a broadsword along the hollow of one cheek. Misc. tattoos dress his arms and neck. A tattoo of a Roman/Sol Invictus diadem and ‘Κωνσταντῖνος’ along the crown’s band is on the left - side of his chest. Fingers are tattooed with anarchist and subtle anti - fascist symbols, blurred and faded with age. The juxtaposition of his rugged physical appearance with his bespoke wardrobe accentuates the starkness between his past life as a revolutionary and his quiet life as a mercenary/gun-for-hire. Notes ● is a devout member of the Greek Orthodox Church, despite his negative relationship with his priest uncle. ● avoids romantic and sexual relationships ● physical affection that he doesn’t initiate himself his wholly unwanted and is often violently rejected ● uh... heterosexual? sort of? ● loves to paint ppl, especially portraits ● thinks knives are pretty cool ● good at making things look like accidents Background Konstantinos, fondly Konnie, is American - born like his father and mother of Puerto-Rican and German descent but he doesn’t remember much of where he was born, his mother, and the apartment they lived in together. His earliest memory is of his father’s grandmother, the scars upon her flesh concluding stories she could not finish herself. In Macedonia, he has many mothers; though they remain faceless in his mind, they carry with them the same sweet scent of chrysanthemums. He does not recall his father being in his life till he’s just learning how to read and write, when he takes him away from the comfort of his many-mothers. As he grows, the gentle boy is troubled with this realization but cannot come to resent his father for his decision. He is whisked off to an unfamiliar place where unfamiliar people speak in an unfamiliar language. However, he is still young enough to teach, to mold, and he takes to this new language so easily that he almost forgets the tongue of his many-mothers. In his time in primary school, he earns the badge of polyglot. As he grows and becomes an acceptable age to be sent away, he is offered the chance to go to several prestigious boarding schools by his adoptive grandfather but, much to his relief, his father softly declines this generous offer. As he has been torn from comfort before, he holds the pain of the trauma of being taken from familiarity, causing him to be anxious and he is, although he excels in much that he does, unsure of himself, even at the tender age of eleven. He clings to his father and grandfather and the many people who work/reside upon his grandfather’s estate, for everyone there is gentle and keenly aware of his nervousness. Even now, at fifteen/sixteen, he still finds himself most comfortable in the quietest corners of his grandfather’s estate. Personality Those who are unfamiliar with him, especially extroverted adults, may find him, not shy, but haughty on account of his observant quietness and stature. He does not interact well with children his own age and, if he does find himself accepted into a friend group, he is the reserved listener. However, timidness is overshadowed by his morality, defending others valiantly and with a vulgarity that almost completely mirrors his father’s. Silence is complacency, his father taught him, and he is steadfast in his actions in the face of injustice and cruelty. Opposite his father, he is soft - spoken and educated in his speech. He is quite agreeable in mood and disposition though is considered “irregularly emotional” for a teenage boy by those stuck in the Old World. His emotional intelligence was nurtured by Panos, whose own emotional intelligence was stunted, and he is particularly empathetic and kind, with others and himself. Maybe that could get him in trouble later in life. Appearance At sixteen, he is 5′11 but looks taller with his stately posture and lean build. His face shape is much softer than his father’s with rounded jaw and fuller cheeks. He has his father’s full lips and his mother’s narrow, bowed - bridged and wide - tipped nose. Head is topped with light brown, tawny - tinted waves, hair long enough to curl around his ears, at the nape of his neck, and on his forehead. He has his father’s color-changing, light hues and they are further accentuated with his olive - toned skin that darkens easily in summer under an Italian sun. His attire is always shifting and evolving though always echoes the softness of his personality. Notes ● though raised in a Roman Catholic household, he is a practicing member of the Greek Orthodox church ● loves animals.... so much. often babysits his grandfather’s pet snakes (though he prefers the furry sorts) ● a casual art historian ● wants to be a mary wollstonecraft shelley historian when he gets older ● dad taught him how to shoot and he’s a very good marksman ● because his father constantly changes his own last name, panos and raphael agreed that konnie would take raphael’s, if not for stability, for social prestige

Shipping p: it’s rare that there’s chemistry for a sexual/romantic ship but i’m pretty open to trying! love enemy ships for him tho! k: no sexual/romantic ships since i’ll play him as a minor both: platonic and familial ships, ftw Selectivity/Activity p: always active/ will interact with everyone and anyone k: quite finicky/ will interact with anyone ***Trigger Warnings talk of: physical, mental, and sexual abuse, violence, death, graphic sex, death, mental illness, disordered eating, anxiety, weapons actions: physical and emotional violence, murder, body horror, disordered eating, weapons (guns and knives) Panos’ childhood was full of abuse: mental, physical, and sexual. I won’t bring up specifics in my writings unless prompted and will tag them accordingly. Panos does engage in a lot of violence and uses violent language. Panos suffers from disordered eating and a mood disorder, the earlier shown in less than subtle ways. Konnie has generalized anxiety. If any of these things are a serious problem, message me and I’ll be sure to constantly tag them. If you find yourself overwhelmed or know you will be, please don’t be afraid to soft block. I really wouldn’t mind.