#set naturale

[griddlebait]

since i couldn’t post the new chapter to celebrate the one year anniversary of sckl and a few of you said you wanted to read it, i'm sharing the first scene of chapter 25 below the cut.

(keep in mind that this is before beta-reading and final edits so a few things might change when the chapter is posted!)

Just past one in the morning, Gideon quietly let herself into her apartment. She carefully placed her shoes on the rack and tiptoed through the living room, assuming that all of her roommates were either asleep or trying to get there, but she soon noticed a dim, fuzzy glow emitting from the kitchen. Not all of her roommates, then.

Harrow was sitting on the counter with the refrigerator left open in front of her so she didn’t have to turn on an overhead light. Gideon wasn’t surprised; she caught her like this every now and then, most times eating individual ingredients or cold pasta straight from the tupperware container or chugging all the water she’d forgotten to drink that day. Tonight she lacked that manic, starved alleycat quality to her movements—she was looser, relaxed, nonchalantly glancing over her shoulder and languidly straightening her posture at the confirmation of Gideon’s presence—but Gideon still spotted a cup of water clutched in her hand when she rounded the bar. 

“Where have you been?” Harrow asked the moment Gideon reached the line between carpet and tile.

“Am I in trouble?” Gideon whispered back sarcastically.

Harrow’s fingers idly tapped against the plastic cup in muted, arrhythmic thumps. Her voice was curiously hoarse as she said, “That depends on where you’ve been.”

Gideon didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but it warmed her face and prickled her skin. “I was downstairs with Nona,” she elaborated automatically. “She asked me to help her pick out her nail polish colors. And we watched the Ghostbusters movies. And then fell asleep by accident.”

Harrow stared at Gideon. She blinked. She dropped her eyes. Then she said, “okay,” and there was slight resignation in the drooping of her shoulders, an audible settling in the quietness of her voice. She looked down into her cup as if the water inside was suddenly supremely interesting. 

“So … am I in trouble?”

Harrow didn’t look up. “I suppose not.”

The air between them thinned out like a window had been opened and Gideon realized, feeling unlike herself, that she’d gone in the wrong direction. She was supposed to play along and make up something ridiculous yet interesting, like that she’d actually been out at a leather bar with Ianthe getting into fights for fun. She should have given Harrow something to at least roll her eyes at, but she didn’t, and the moment passed, and it was already too late. 

That kept happening these days. Gideon tried not to kick herself too hard about it this time. She wasn’t convincingly dressed for a leather bar anyway. 

Harrow turned to set her cup down on the counter, allowing Gideon a better view of her face. She looked almost as if she’d just rolled out of bed: her cheeks held a curious flush in the yellow light and the ends of her hair were sticking to her forehead and temples, the rest of her grown out buzz cut tousled and poking up in random places. Her expression was blank and tired and gave absolutely no hints at what she was thinking about, so Gideon attempted to read her body language, lowering her eyes and—and—

And Harrow’s arms were extending upwards and curling behind her head in a lazy stretch, and that movement sent her shirt riding up on her stomach to reveal more than a couple inches of bare skin. Gideon privately remarked, her mind growing a bit foggy and distant, that she had never actually seen Harrow’s stomach before.

Which wasn’t a big deal. Stomachs were super common. So were belly buttons. There was no reason to die of shock at the non-revelation that Harrow had both a stomach and a belly button. It was just that every inch of her skin that Gideon had seen before now had been empty and blank—naturally speaking, anyway; Gideon had given her wrist a permanent blemish that summer—and, although it wasn’t as if she’d thought about it specifically, Gideon kind of assumed that the rest of Harrow’s skin would be equally as plain. So even if everyone had a belly button and it was neither impressive nor profound that Harrow also had one, Gideon found herself momentarily transfixed by the small dark brown speck just to the left of it. A freckle, or a mole, or a birthmark, Gideon couldn’t tell with the distance and lighting.

It seemed impossible that you could know someone for their entire life and still keep finding things to learn about them. Gideon thought it was wildly unfair that it had taken nearly twenty-one years for her to discover this very simple fact about Harrow, and then she wondered if something could even be considered a discovery if it had already been discovered by someone else. She found this to also be wildly unfair.

She blinked so hard rainbow flurries danced behind her eyelids and she narrowly avoided physically shaking her head to clear her thoughts like an Etch-A-Sketch. Harrow was totally oblivious to the attention and finished her stretch, dropping her arms to her sides; her shirt slid back down until there was nothing but a thin sliver of skin above the waistband of her pajama pants left exposed. 

The refrigerator was safer to look at. They ran out of orange juice this morning. Cam probably added it to the grocery list already.

“So did you stay up just to get on my ass about coming home late?” Gideon asked. Her throat felt strange.

“No,” Harrow said. After a brief stretch of silence, each word lulling with hesitation like she hadn’t quite decided if she actually wanted to say what she was in the middle of saying, she tacked on: “I was with Camilla.”

That made sense. That explained—yeah. Okay. Not really information Gideon needed to know, but okay. Waves of disappointment rolled through her chest, embarrassment following soon after. She’d been mostly joking—Harrow never needed a reason to stay up—but it was unwelcomingly humbling to be told that no, Harrow hadn’t been waiting for her, and in fact had been plenty busy with somebody else. 

The fact that Gideon had been doing the same thing in a different context, and the question of how much that context mattered and why, were such fleeting, whispering thoughts in the back of Gideon’s mind that they might as well not have been there at all. 

"What, you guys don't have sleepovers?" she asked, her voice supernaturally relaxed as opposed to the unsteadiness she felt internally. 

“No,” Harrow said, and Gideon already knew that. 

"Guess I’m special then,” she pressed because she couldn’t help herself.

“You’re—Yes. You are unique in that.”

That, too, confirmed what Gideon already knew. She still felt better for hearing it. 

Harrow’s leg brushed against Gideon’s elbow as she slid off the counter, but she didn’t seem to notice. She stepped forward and shut the fridge, casting them into a darkness that was only salvaged by streaks of moonlight slipping through the curtains, and turned back to Gideon drenched in shades of gray. 

Gideon wasn’t sure what she expected—nothing, really, she wasn’t expecting anything. It was her body that pulled taut with unnamable anticipation when Harrow looked her in the eye. It was the briefest of glances, and Gideon still could not maintain the contact; she unsteadily cast her gaze anywhere else. Harrow stepped past her to leave without letting the moment linger.

“Goodnight, Griddle.”

Gideon exhaled, her body sinking as if she’d been released. Harrow didn’t notice. She was already halfway through the living room. That was as much of a relief as it was a disappointment. 

“Goodnight,” Gideon replied a beat too late. Refusing to let herself watch Harrow go, she settled for listening to the sound of her footsteps grow quiet and distant. 

[twoleafsimmer]

ooh first CC ever?

This is my first time doing a Custom content stuff and I was hoping on getting straight ahead and do a clothes conversion CC, but I'm a newbie that I might just piss myself for not doing that anymore, so I started with an easy one!

A Makeup set!

And even i were to say that; "oh Makeup CC's? thats so easy" But no when i start doing it, i keep messing up. A LOT.

Anyhow, enough rambling! Here's some previews!

It previews all the Blush swatches, and the lipstick has an extra light orange swatch, but I guess it's going to ruin the post if i try to add it in, so I guess this should be fine for now! Download Autumn Kiss (SFS)

Download Naturale (SFS)

Download All (SFS)

[otteranha]

This fandom needs that ole’ ran-outside-in-a-towel-and-accidentally-locked-myself-out-naked trope. Like… freshman year for the Party, pre-Spring break. There's construction being done on the room they normally hold Hellfire and the school won't give them an alternative spot. Dustin, Lucas & Mike convince Steve to let them have Hellfire at his house. Steve isn’t thrilled but he agrees.

Eddie isn’t thrilled either and he shows up early that afternoon to set up and get any gloves-off cruelty between him and Steve out of the way before the kids get there. Only to find that no one is answering the door. What gives, right?- if Harrington set this whole thing up to leave them all out in the cold, man fuck that. He goes around the back of the house, over the fence into the yard and finds Steve—

Steve was about to take a shower when he noticed the hot water wasn’t working. Calling the repairman would mean he’d have to talk to his dad, and he really wanted the hot water now and to talk to his dad never, so he grabbed a towel real quick and checked the water heater in the basement. No problem there. So he just popped out to check the water heater in the pool shed, because maybe it’s not just the house. And he didn’t put clothes on first because he thought he’d only be out there for a second. Except the door swung shut. And locked. His mom moves the hide-a-key periodically for “security purposes” and he has no idea where the damn thing is this month.

Not to worry. Steve's been sneaking out of his house since he was a whippersnapper. He can just climb in his bedroom window. Except he's been home alone for almost a month and hasn't needed to leave his window unlocked since he can come and go as he please. In other news the roof is covered in wet leaves and is much slipperier than usual. Fortunately he doesn't fall that far, nothing hurt but his pride (ok, and his ass will probably be black and blue for a while). Unfortunately when he fell the towel got snagged on the drain pipe and is now stuck on the roof. He'll have to climb back up and get it, then try to find some way back inside before the kids get there. But he needs a second- ok? So he flops back on one of the pool chairs, an arm draped over his eyes, nursing his injured dignity while he regroups.

And that's the scene Eddie Munson stumbles upon. Steve Harrington, sprawled out in all his glory like the goddamn Barberini faun. So a second boy takes a tumble on the Harrington property that afternoon, as the sight causes Eddie to lose his grip and his focus, and instead of vaulting the gate he topples forward over it and face plants on the cement pool deck.

"Shit!" "Fuck!"

"Sonofa- !"

"Holy shit man!" And so forth in that manner as Steve squawks in shock and covers himself. Then it registers who exactly the trespasser is and he abandons modesty and leaps, outraged, to his feet.

Eddie finds that in the face-plant he has bitten a noticeable bit off the tip of his tongue. Now he's standing, staring at a nude Steve Harrington, drooling blood all over his patio. If there's a classical statue of an Adonis posed with hands on hips looking wildly annoyed Eddie doesn't know of it. Any witty remark he could make about late September not being an ideal time for sunbathing au naturale is obstructed by his poor, bitten tongue, so Eddie has to settle for mere communication as he tries to ask Steve what the actual fuck he's doing?

"Came out to check the water heater and the door blew shut," Steve says sheepishly.

"Tho ou theck the plumbinth naketh?" Eddie raises an eyebrow.

Steve points to the roof. "I tried to get in through my window and slipped. Towel's stuck on the roof." A look of panic flashes into his eyes, "Wait- if you're here- what time is it? Oh shit, are the kids on the way?"

Eddie shakes his head. "I came by eahly tho thet uth." He holds up one finger, gesturing Steve to wait, then plucks a safety pin from his vest and kneels to examine the patio door. It takes him only a few minutes to finagle it open and he turns sliding the door wide with a flourish. "Entrez-vous," he asks gallantly, but it comes out "Enthreth-vouth?" and Steve just gives him a confused look as he stalks past into the house.

Instead of dashing up the stairs to dress Steve points Eddie toward the kitchen, while he snags a towel from the powder room in passing- not quite large enough, but better than nothing. Steve gestures Eddie to sit while he hands him a wet paper towel and wraps an ice pack in a clean dish towel. Eddie tends to his bloody mouth, though without the distraction it's an ordeal to keep his eyes from wandering over Steve's physique. Not good. It's not the locker room, no herd to hide amongst, no plausible deniability that he wasn't staring at anyone in particular. Because Steve Harrington is a Rodin, a Donatello, a goddamn Michelangelo. Steve Harrington is killing him. Killing him.

"You can set everything up in the dining room. I'll be upstairs," says the Rodin, the Donatello, the goddamn Michelangelo. "And keep icing that mouth. Last thing I need is for Mike Wheeler to decide he's leading this dog and pony show because you can't do your little incantations or whatever."

He turns and bounds for the stairs. Eddie watches him go. And yeah, that towel does not wrap all the way around. Not even close.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Sister!Dan / Nun Outfit Masterlist

A Nun and A Priest: You Get Me Closer to God (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: When Dan dresses up as a sexy nun for Halloween in America, he finds himself longing for a sexy priest.

After the birthday stream (ao3) - trashcanfromgallifrey

Summary: The events that may have occured after Dan's birthday charity stream;) Starts of with fluff but ends up in a steamy hot shower

an odalisque, au naturale (ao3) - queerofcups

Summary: So a doll and a nun walk into a Halloween Party

and my heart's already sinned. (ao3) - gesticulationbubble

Summary: Phil asks Dan to dress as Sister Daniel for their return to Halloween Baking. Chaos ensues. Also Dan has feelings (tm) about his uncloseted freedom and Phil loves him for it.

Dress (ao3) - ForeverJustAnEmoKidAtHeart

Summary: After the Halloween Baking video, Sister Daniel has some fun with Phil and Phil… Well, Phil should just be glad he made it through the end of the filming.

full of glitter, sparkles, and blood (ao3) - nunicorn

Summary: “i don't bleed like that,” phillippa wiped the now drying and clotting blood from her face. “i bleed red.” she admits.

“phillippa,” danielle released her one handed grip from phillippa’s shoulder, tracing down to grab hold of her wrist and bring her hand up to her face. “is this not red to you?”

Her (ao3) - Absolutefilthimsosorry

Summary: Set after Dan’s birthday stream.

A new costume for Phil leads to a new kind of roleplay

i kinda like it when you bring me to my knees (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: “Will you talk to me, Sister?” Phil asks, obediently using her proper name.

“You want to hear the gospel?” Dan smirks.

“Only according to you.”

mischief in our eyes (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Random scenes throughout the filming of the 2023 Halloween baking video.

nun as good (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: It’s so stupid and silly, and it’s just them in their messy kitchen, but Phil has been on edge ever since Dan first came into the kitchen in that outfit.

Phussy tight like a nun! (ao3) - sohytes

Summary: This is for the girlies that have watched "Halloween Baking - SLIME AND SADNESS CINNAMON ROLLS" a few too many times.

Red wine supernova (ao3) - Cecil_Is_Drowning

Summary: Sister Daniel met the most awesome girl she'd ever met at a concert, but small issue, she forgot to tell her Roommate before bringing this (amazing) girl home.

Sister Daniel (ao3) - intoapuddle

Summary: Dan isn't an exhibitionist. Okay, maybe he is. A little bit. A slutty nun exhibitionist, perhaps.

sister daniela (ao3) - idkspookystuff

Summary: the aftermath of the baking video

The Habit of Confidence (ao3) - howell_slide

Summary: The first time he saw Sister Daniel, Phil had to say a little prayer.

Or, how Phil really feels about Sister Daniel.

tonight, it’s only me that matters (ao3) - cafephan

Summary: Sister Daniel returns in the newest edition of Halloween Baking. Phil’s subtlety doesn’t.

[ashwritesmonsters]

Hello!! Been following your work for a while, I read your stories when I’m sad lol!

Can I request giant x fem!reader with lemon?

Go wild, I just love content with giants and don’t see enough of it

Thank you ♥️♥️♥️

F!Reader x M!Giant - Lemon

Note: Okay, first I'm sorry this took so long. Motivation to write has been hard to come by recently. Like, I know I'm sorta relaxed with requests, but jeez. I think I'm finally starting to find my groove again, slowly, so hopefully I get some more requests to start building up my writing muscles again. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Cradled in Uvor's hand, which was normally quite comfortable, you were starting to feel a little seasick. Not because you were at sea, but because his careful, deliberate steps rocked you in his palm like a ship. His pace was slow, yet his eyes darted rapidly as he looked down, at you, at his feet, at the ground below and the pine trees that equaled him in height.

"Uvor..." you groaned. The view of the nature preserve and the fresh air helped a bit as you cuddled his thumb like a pillow.

"We're almost there, little bloom," he apologized quietly, though his voice still rumbled your bones. "Sorry. I just don't want to step on anything."

"It's okay." You tried to focus on the smell of pine and cool feeling of mist on your face. "I'm sure the wildlife appreciates it."

"They do," he answered seriously. "If you look up, you might be able to see it from here. We're close."

Uvor lifted you gently, as he always was, and you could just barely see above the trees. A column of steam as wide around as a neighborhood lazily rose into the overcast sky.

"Wow..." you couldn't contain your wonder. You had never seen anything like it before, yet Uvor apparently came here every day.

"You'll feel much better once you're in the warm water. I promise." He smiled faintly, still focusing on the safe navigation of the untamed forest.

A stray raindrop struck you in the face. "Warm water sounds amazing right now," you said, wiping it away with a wool mitten.

After a little more lurching travel, you arrived at the destination Uvor promised. Once he set you down on the forest floor, just on the edge of the clearing, all you could see were multitudes of steaming pools stacked atop one another like tiers on a wedding cake.

"Uvor, this place is beautiful," you gasped, surprised this hadn't already been turned into a tourist attraction. "You come here every day?"

"Indeed," he boomed, his voice always large enough to shake the ground you stood on, "It's the reason I don't smell. I'm very grateful." He smiled and squatted next to you.

"So I guess I should, uh..." you hesitated, the cold air biting your cheeks, "undress before I get in?"

"I could keep you warm on the way back," Uvor explained, "but it would be easier if your clothes were dry."

"Got it," you answered, still not entirely ready to disrobe. Sure, Uvor was as caring and gentle of a boyfriend you could ask for, but going au naturale in front of him was a new, yet not unexpected line to cross.

Uvor sensed your hesitation. You had been standing idly in the cold rain with steamy hot springs just before you, after all. "If you want to keep your underwear on, that's okay too," he added gently.

"No, I'm not going home with soggy underwear." You found the resolve to undress, starting with your coat. Uvor and you had talked at length about boundaries and comfort and such, and a slightly bolder version of you from the past agreed that this trip to the hot springs was meant to be a romantic—and nude—one.

Uvor offered a hand to you while you shucked your bulky autumn clothing off. One by one you tossed your coat, your sweater, your shirt, your pants, and so on into his waiting hand like it was a laundry basket at home. Once the last of it was safe in his grasp, you jogged across the cold clay ground into an eagerly awaiting hot spring. The warmth was divine.

"Oh, this is perfect," you sighed contentedly, vapor from your breath joining the steam as it rose towards the sky. Just as you rested your head against the earthen lip of the pool, the ground shook. Uvor had done away with his loincloth and gently sat down in a pool that was large enough to accommodate him just next to yours.

“Isn’t it?” Uvor sounded pleased with himself. He reached over, dipping his huge hand into the water beside you, offering it. You leaned against his wrist at first before deciding just to sit in his hand again. He held you perfectly under the balmy water.

"Thank you, Uvor," you leaned back and closed your eyes. Cool mist dotted your face. "I know I was hesitant to come out here with you, but..." you blushed. The warmth and steam had distracted you from the fact that you were now completely naked and sitting in your boyfriend's hand.

"But?" Uvor's middle finger curled, gently spreading your thighs apart as it nestled between them.

"But I'm glad I did." You tentatively accepted his advances. You parted your legs just a bit more, blushing, and allowed yourself to straddle his middle finger, his index and ring fingers holding your thighs in place like warm pillows.

"Mm," he grumbled, satisfied. "Me too." His finger curled further until all your weight rested on it. You gasped. His heartbeat pulsed in between your legs... and gradually got faster.

You leaned forward and grabbed his fingertip like you were riding a rocking horse.

"You seem eager." You could hear the smirk in his voice.

"So do you." You turned back and looked at him and returned a smirk of your own. There was still a kindness in his eyes, but backlit by desire. He was trembling at how delicate and soft you felt in his hands... and something else, too.

His finger curled. You gasped at the sudden movement and how it rubbed against you. Despite being a giant who spent most of his time in nature, the skin on his hands was soft. The grooves that gave you fingerprints instead gave him lovely, supple bumps that rubbed against your tender sex.

"Uvor," you said, your breath catching a bit, "that... that feels good." The admission made your face burn hotter than the springs.

"Mm," he rumbled, almost teasing. "Would you like me to move?"

"Um, a little," you answered, eyes closed as warmth built between your legs.

"As you wish, my little bloom." He uncurled his finger. It rose slightly, pressing against your pussy gently. When you gripped his fingertip and moved your hips, a moan escaped you. Pleasure surged through you. The spring felt hotter, the steam thicker. Your breath took a moment to catch up.

"Good?" He asked, feeling you melt in his hand.

"Y-yeah." You started to pant. Your trepidation before this outing was cleared away by the hot steam. More movement with your hips. Your knuckles went white as you clung to his fingertip. The steam in front of your face spun away from you in silky swirls with each hot breath.

Back and forth. Every nerve in your body lit up when your clit found purchase on his hot, soft skin. Your eyes scrunched shut.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Uvor rumbled. He reached across with his other hand to delicately cradle your face between his large thumb and forefinger. “Are you close?”

“Y-yeah...” you squeaked, your breath short and legs beginning to shake.

"Come for me." His heartbeat between your quaking legs was impossibly warm. "Come for me, little bloom."

Pleasure exploded within you as your clit rubbed against his tender skin. You gasped, shaking. Your knuckles went white, holding on to Uvor as you rode out your orgasm. It was hot—too hot—and after crying out to the overcast sky, you fell back and lied against his wrist. Your glassy eyes saw stars.

"Are you okay?"

You came so hard it felt like the wind was knocked out of you. Breaths came unevenly, and your voice was small. "I'm... yeah..." you tried to say, drowned out by the bubbling noises of the springs.

Immediately, as you gasped at his speed, Uvor lifted you from the water and sat up, holding you before him. He cradled you in both hands as cool air rushed around you and stray rain droplets peppered your skin. He wore an expression of concern, examining you.

"What was that for?" You asked, slightly put off by the cold that shocked you out of your post-orgasmic stupor.

"I was worried," his eyebrows softened, and he let out a breath he seemed to be holding. "I thought I... hurt you, or the springs gave you heat stroke, or..."

"I'm fine," you reassured him, standing in his palms and reaching out to touch his stubbly cheek. The moment your hand met his skin even more tension left his face and shoulders.

"I'm sorry for ruining the moment," he rumbled, his eyes no longer on you, downcast.

"You didn't ruin anything. I just..." you had cooled down, but heat returned to your cheeks as you prepared the words, "I just came really hard, thanks to you, big guy."

You could feel heat rise in his cheeks too. "I... uh... I'm glad." He couldn't find the words.

"Good talk." You chuckled, patting his cheek. He chuckled with you, flashing that goofy grin of his. "Why don't you set me down in the water again? It's cold up here."

"Of course, my little bloom."

[mermaidsirennikita]

Contemporaries where dirty talk is especially hot? Both during sex and maybe also over text? Thank you!!

Sierra Simone, Sierra Simone, Sierra Simone. Her books are often set in a contemporary world, but they're not, as a heads up, "light" contemporaries. Personally, I wouldn't really go as far as to call them dark romance (well. Thornchapel, I would, but I also wouldn't recommend it as a contemporary as it has such strong supernatural elements lol) but they do have some elements of (light) mysticism as some of them are retellings of old myth set in a modern setting. I'd check out:

Priest, Sinner, Saint/"The Bell Brothers": These are three standalones (M/F, M/F, and M/M) that always have a bit of a religion kink. And a by a bit, I mean a lot. Priest is the book where a Catholic priest (who is actually very naturally carnal and only became a priest because of some deep guilt issues and religiosity) meets a woman who tells him ALL the shit she's done in confession. It's naturally dirty, and he naturally falls head over heels into an affair. Sinner is about a business whose best friend's little sister is about to become a nun, and she (on the advice of her convent, naturally) asks him to teach her about sex so she can experience what she'll miss before she really commits. Saint is about a guy who became a monk in a period of deep emotional crisis, whose ex-boyfriend (he left with zero notice) ends up on a tour of monasteries with him for an article he's writing. Temptation ensues.

The dirty talk in these is naturally very tinged with priest/nun kink stuff, it's SUPER dirty, and I love it. They're also just really good.

Her Christmas Notch books she does with Julie Murphy are a little tamer, both focus on this Hallmark-esque company where the leads film these Christmas movies and, of course, fall in love. I really, really love A Holly Jolly Ever After, because the hero is a former boybander (with a dad bod!) who fucks like a demon and also owns a chain of pizza shops, and his sex tape leaks, during which he's pictured absolutely RAILING a woman from behind, slapping her ass, and saying "and THAT'S how you toss the dough" which I personally think is some of the greatest dirty talk I've ever read.

New Camelot: One of my favorite trilogies of all time, MMF, "what if King Arthur was President, Guinevere was First Lady, and Lancelot was VP, and what if they were all in love with each other and entangled in an intense affair and IT WAS AMAZING". I reread scenes regularly. I love it so much. The dirty talk is obscene. You get the very cool "sit, stay, bark" dom dirty talk from one hero and the deranged "I'm going through it and you're going to go through it with me" passionate dirty talk from the other. Our heroine ain't half bad at it either.

Lyonesse Trilogy: The prequel novella and the first book are out now; it's a Tristan/Isolde/Mark MMF retelling. Mark is perhaps like... the dirtiest dirty talker Sierra has written. He's soooooo much. Like, if you want the condescending dom dirty talking hero, he's The One. The alternating between the "look how good you take it" stuff and "you're so desperate it's pathetic" shit. Why not both???

Act Your Age by Eve Dangerfield has a TON of dirty talk, usually in the DD/lg vein. The hero and heroine roleplay dirty stepdad fantasies a lot, and the way they talk to each other is OBSCENE lol. And I love it.

Minx by Sophie Lark has some amazing dirty talk in the pet play realm. The heroine is an escort paid by the hero, and he has her dress up in a catsuit, wear a caller, drink milk out of a bowl while he calls her Minxie and a good girl and shit lol. I was into it. Idk if you'll be into it. Iiiii was into it.

Sara Cate's Salacious Player Club books have good dirty talk. They're sex club books that kind of deconstruct a different kink in each book (pleasure dom/sub in the first one, voyeurism in the second, MMF/bi awakening in the third, and femdom in the fourth... I'd stop after the fourth) and naturally are filled with dirty talk. Eyes On Me (the second book) may especially work for you because the heroine is a cam girl.

Possession by Adriana Anders has a heroine in a PR marriage with her famous husband end up in a kink camp with him after a scandal, and they... explore a lot. Including consensual kidnapping, an MFM threesome, lots of dirty talk... It's a lot.

Preferential Treatment by Heather Guerre has a heroine who becomes her billionaire boss's domme, so naturally there is a LOT of femdom dirty talk. We LOVE to see it.

Heated Rivalry & The Long Game by Rachel Reid make up a duology of hockey romances about the same couple (m/m). What I like about this is that you follow the same couple over like, a decade, starting when they're like 18/19, and they build up...? Their dirty talk? Like in the beginning, their encounters are more awkward, and then by the end they're using sex toys and like mild bondage and really KNOW each other and what turns each other on. Including the talk.

[darkmaga-retard]

Vice President Kamala Harris selected Gov. Tim Walz, D-Minn., as her running mate on Tuesday, and many Americans are naturally curious to know more about him, including his religious beliefs. Walz does not often discuss his faith, but he occasionally mentions that he attends Pilgrim Lutheran Church in St. Paul, Minnesota, (both instances are from 2020).

Here are nine facts about Walz’s church.

Pilgrim Lutheran Church in St. Paul is a member of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA), a liberal offshoot of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod (LCMS).

In 1976, Pilgrim Lutheran left the LCMS to join what would become the ELCA over “views on the inerrancy of the Bible,” the church explains on its website. “The Missouri Synod was quite firm in the belief that the Bible was without error. Others—pastors, scholars, and lay persons—felt that the Bible, while inspired, had portions where informed people could have differing opinions.”

The lead pastor of Pilgrim Lutheran Church is Jen Rome.

According to the church website, Jen Rome (“she/her”) “received her Masters of Divinity Princeton Theological Seminary in 2000” and “has 17 years of experience in bringing people of all generations to deeply experience and creatively connect with God, the world, and each other.” She is married with two daughters, and the family lives “inter-generationally” in a duplex with her in-laws.

On Sunday, Aug. 4, Rome delivered a homily based on a reading from John 6, in which, after feeding the 5,000, Jesus teaches that he is the bread of life. “Jesus goes on and on forever, it seems,” said Rome, but “what Jesus is talking about is setting aside or being healed from what causes you and the ones around to perish, to receive what is life-giving.”

Drawing an object lesson from a fictional, young-adult book series in which a young girl studies dragon science in defiance of societal expectations, Rome urged all her hearers to free themselves from the “garbage” of societal norms. She discussed her struggle with aging, saying her body no longer attains what she believes society expects from the female figure, adding that “it is amazing garbage that can go through this feminist’s head.”

[titleleaf]

Good Friday, 1613. Riding Westward - John Donne

Let mans Soule be a Spheare, and then, in this,

The intelligence that moves, devotion is,

And as the other Spheares, by being growne

Subject to forraigne motion, lose their owne,

And being by others hurried every day,

Scarce in a yeare their naturall forme obey:

Pleasure or businesse, so, our Soules admit

For their first mover, and are whirld by it.

Hence is't, that I am carryed towards the West

This day, when my Soules forme bends toward the East.

There I should see a Sunne, by rising set,

And by that setting endlesse day beget;

But that Christ on this Crosse, did rise and fall,

Sinne had eternally benighted all.

Yet dare I'almost be glad, I do not see

That spectacle of too much weight for mee.

Who sees Gods face, that is selfe life, must dye;

What a death were it then to see God dye?

It made his owne Lieutenant Nature shrinke,

It made his footstoole crack, and the Sunne winke.

Could I behold those hands which span the Poles,

And tune all spheares at once peirc'd with those holes?

Could I behold that endlesse height which is

Zenith to us, and our Antipodes,

Humbled below us? or that blood which is

The seat of all our Soules, if not of his,

Made durt of dust, or that flesh which was worne

By God, for his apparell, rag'd, and torne?

If on these things I durst not looke, durst I

Upon his miserable mother cast mine eye,

Who was Gods partner here, and furnish'd thus

Halfe of that Sacrifice, which ransom'd us?

Though these things, as I ride, be from mine eye,

They'are present yet unto my memory,

For that looks towards them; and thou look'st towards mee,

O Saviour, as thou hang'st upon the tree;

I turne my backe to thee, but to receive

Corrections, till thy mercies bid thee leave.

O thinke mee worth thine anger, punish mee,

Burne off my rusts, and my deformity,

Restore thine Image, so much, by thy grace,

That thou may'st know mee, and I'll turne my face.

[sciatu]

VENDICARI

“e ora dove andiamo?” Chiese la figlia partendo da Marzamemi. “andiamo dove l’uomo è solo un ospite” Le risposi enigmatico. Partimmo cosi prendendo autostrade che non erano autostrade con caselli per il pedaggio abbandonati che sembravano usciti da un film horror e strade bianchissime che diventavano mulattiere strette e scomode, fino a che i vigneti, gli uliveti e i campi pieni di piccoli mandorli lasciano il posto a canneti senza fine. In uno di questi lasciamo la macchina e procediamo verso un mondo che ha vinto la civiltà, verso Vendicari. Delle attempate e cordiali signore vestite da ranger ci registrano al limitare di un Boschetto e da li ci incamminiamo per l’oasi su una strada sopraelevata circondata da canneti e acque salmastre. La strada ci porta verso il mare e, come animali in cattività seguiamo percorsi protetti da reti in modo da non disturbare gli acquitrini e gli ospiti che li vivono. Siamo come sopportati e intorno a noi la natura è dominante, rigogliosa, intoccata, splendidamente felice. Arriviamo ad una striscia di sabbia. Il mare è quieto, caldissimo e non sprofonda subito negli abissi che circondano la Sicilia, ma degrada lentamente e puoi camminare a lungo senza affondare. È una piscina naturale, calda e accogliente. Lontano la tonnara è un avanzo umano a ricordarci che li siamo ospiti e che è la natura la vera signora e padrona. Nella spiaggia e lungo le strade che costeggiano i laghi, non c’è un cestino per l’immondizia, ma non vedi tra l’erba e i cespugli neanche una bottiglia di plastica o di birra, un sacchetto un pannolino usato o un mozzicone di sigaretta. Nessuno oserebbe sporcare Vendicari e questa attenzione a lasciare tutto com’è, com’era, come sarà, è un segno di devozione, un atto d’amore assoluto. Nei laghetti i fenicotteri pascolano silenziosi, i grandi granchi si muovono nervosi, il vento si acquieta e il richiamo degli uccelli è l’unico suono che ci accompagna. Lontano monti ingialliti dal caldo e dietro di loro un illusorio mondo tecnocratico, freddo e impietoso. Ci sdraiamo sulla sabbia calda e aspettiamo il tramonto per visitare la tonnara. Chiudo gli occhi e mi sembra di scivolare in un sogno bellissimo ma mi sveglio di soprassalto spaventato che tutto sia illusione, guardandomi ansiosamente intorno. C’è solo il vento, la cantilena delle onde del mare, la carezza del sole, le voci gioiose di bambini e voci dei volatili che si chiamano negli stagni quieti. Per fortuna non era un sogno: è Vendicari.

“And where are we going now?” My daughter asked fwhen we left Marzamemi. “let's go where man is just a guest” I replied enigmatically. So we leave, taking highways that weren't highways with abandoned toll booths that seemed like something out of a horror film and very white roads that became narrow and uncomfortable mule tracks, until the vineyards, olive groves and fields full of small almond trees gave way to cane thickets. endless. In one of these we leave the car and proceed towards a world that has won civilization, towards Vendicari. Some elderly and friendly ladies dressed as rangers register us at the edge of a grove and from there we set off towards the oasis on an elevated road surrounded by reeds and brackish waters. The road takes us towards the sea and, like animals in captivity, we follow paths protected by nets so as not to disturb the marshes and the guests who live there. We are tolerated and around us nature is dominant, luxuriant, untouched, splendidly happy. We arrive at a strip of sand. The sea is calm, very warm and does not immediately sink into the abyss surrounding Sicily, but slopes slowly and you can walk for a long time without sinking. It is a natural swimming pool, warm and welcoming. Far away, the tonnara is a human remnant to remind us that we are guests there and that nature is the true lady and mistress. On the beach and along the roads that run along the lakes, there is no rubbish baskets, but you don't see even a plastic or beer bottle, a bag, a used nappy or a cigarette butt among the grass and bushes. . No one would dare to dirty Vendicari and this attention to leaving everything as it is, as it was, as it will be, is a sign of devotion, an act of absolute love. In the lakes the flamingos graze silently, the large crabs move nervously, the wind calms down and the call of the birds is the only sound that accompanies us. Far away mountains yellowed by the heat and behind them an illusory technocratic world, cold and merciless. We lie down on the warm sand and wait for the sunset to visit the tuna fishery. I close my eyes and I feel like I'm slipping into a beautiful dream but I wake up with a start, scared that everything is an illusion, anxiously looking around. There is only the wind, the singing of the sea waves, the caress of the sun, the joyful voices of children and the voices of birds calling each other in the quiet ponds. Luckily it wasn't a dream: it's Vendicari.

[sucede-es]

#JuevesDeArquitectura

La Casa del Volcán

César Manrique construyó su casa de 3.000 metros cuadrados sobre un terreno de 3 hectáreas moldeado por erupciones volcánicas del siglo XVIII.

Inspirada en la arquitectura tradicional de Lanzarote, la vivienda integra cinco burbujas volcánicas naturales conectadas por túneles excavados en la lava, creando espacios que se fusionan con el entorno natural. La casa, que cuenta con un salón con muebles tallados en la roca y esculturas monumentales, exhibe piezas únicas de su colección privada.

Durante más de 20 años, Manrique vivió en este lugar, que se convirtió en un punto de encuentro para sus amigos artistas y la jet-set de los años sesenta.

[lisia81]

Ready, set Love

Nel bel mezzo del cammin della BL vita,

mi ritrovai in una trama oscura,

ché la diritta via era smarrita.

Lo so, sono consapevole di aver visto solamente 3 drama in cui, in un modo o nell'altro, Il Boys Love non fosse se non il tema centrale, per lo meno predominante. Ma così va il periodo.

Inizio Marzo era iniziato con i migliori propositi. Netflix mi proponeva un drama Thailandese, nuovo che da trailer, sembrava parecchio divertente.E considerato che lo scorso anno ho visto solo 2 drama Thai, mi sembrava giusta dargli una possibilità. Ho visto un paio di puntate, poi @dilebe06 ha iniziato a parlarmi di Pit Babe e Ready set Love è stato giustamente accantonato. Poi mi ha parlato di 2gether e, anche in questo caso, questo drama è passato nell'anticamera del mio cervello. Infondo, in Thailandia sempre eravamo.

Ma prima di intraprendere la visione di Word of Honor giusto per staccarmi da questa scia thailandese, ma non dal genere 😅, il mio senso di responsabilità mi ha imposto di portare a conclusione questo drama.

La trama narra di Day ragazza povera, forte e coraggiosa con sorellla afflitta da grave malattia che si trova sbatacchiata nel più grande concorso/ evento della Thalandia per la conquista di un uomo. Perchè gli uomini in Thalandia sono quasi estinti e vivono tutti alla Fattoria, posto piena di lusso e agio.

La trama si sviluppa in una serie di giochi che sono un mix tra Hunger Games e Squid games; divertenti, comici, portano all'eliminazione non fisica dei concorrenti.

E se non si guarda la sottotrama, il tutto è esilerante. Mia figlia di 7 anni si è sbellicata dalle risate.

Ma il problema di questa serie è proprio questo: il sottotrama.

Vengono date in pasto allo spettatore una serie di fatti drammatici e angoscianti, come fossero gli spruzzi di un deodorante per ambienti, il cui profumo però sparisce subito.

Veniamo al tema che mi ha perplesso di più’.

La società thailandese di questo drama, è al 98% composta da donne, che vivono come le api di un alveare. Il maschio non esiste e quindi ogni ruolo familiare e sociale è coperto dal sesso femminile. Le stesse famiglie e le relazioni, intuisco, siano solo femminili.

L'amore fra donne, che nel drama è rappresentato da una dottoressa e dalla direttrice esecutiva del concorso, è un amore reale dettato da sentimenti o dal far necessità virtù? perchè le due hanno creato una famiglia e tramite fecondazione stanno pure per avere un bambino maschio oltretutto .

Insomma, l’amore è amore in ogni caso al di là del sesso, sì o no?

Perché questo cozza con un altro concetto:

Perché in una società del genere si ambisce spasmodicamente al maschio?

Perchè un idol?

Per istinto naturale?

Perchè è una cosa irraggiungibile?

Perchè è legata al benessere?

La lead sappiamo che partecipa per quest'ultimo motivo. Vuole entrare nella Fattoria per curare la sorella. Di avere un uomo, l'amore con il sesso opposto e le bella vita, le interessa un gran poco.

Ma le altre donne? La popolazione Thailandese in generale? Mistero.

Di contro abbiamo un lead, Son, che vorrebbe fuggire dalla gabbia dorata, in cui è chiuso. Ma vuole fuggire perchè il padre voleva farlo fuggire? Per ritrovare i genitori? perchè il padre era alla Fattoria e la madre no? perchè la madre ha abbandonato marito e figlio? perchè il padre voleva riportarlo da lei? Non si sa. Sappiamo che Son vuole andare e basta.

Passiamo poi al rapporto fra i due: Senza ciondolo sto rapporto sarebbe stato lo stesso? Perché si aprono l'uno all'altra come uno scrigno magico dopo che si riconoscono tramite il ciondolo. Ma in 20 anni, una persona può anche cambiare (vd. Chanel). In pratica un rapporto costruito sul un ricordo di mezza giornata da bambini. Che sarà importante per carità per entrambi, ma è pur sempre un momento. Perché’ se Chanel non avesse seguito il suo cuore, i due si sarebbero accontentati della vita a loro destinata?

Viene tanto criticato Almod, uno dei ragazzi da impalmare, per la sua scelta di non abbandonare la Fattoria, seguire la sorella appena conosciuta e andare a conoscere una madre mai vista. In questo caso la genetica è più importante dei legami???

Ma il drama, con il movimento di ribellione contro il governo è questo preservare i maschi, non esplica il contrario?

Le madri impazzite perché gli sono stati strappati i figli maschi: un fotogramma buttato lì solo per fare scena, senza alcuna riflessione pensiero, emozione.

La scusa del dramma leggero non regge: in un drama leggero non ci butti dentro tutta questa drammaticità! C’è la morte, non visibile, nascosta da un ombra, ma c’è e in più versioni!

Il finale fa presagire inoltre una seconda stagione.. c’è ne è veramente la necessità???????!!!!!

[digitalnewberry]

Race, empire, and cartography

Map of lands in the Tultepec and Jaltocan regions adjacent to the Hacienda de Santa Ines (Mexico), 1569

The Farmers vs. Covarrubias map... depicts the local setting of a community of Indigenous people in colonial Mexico. It was painted on paper made from the bark of a mulberry or fig tree, using paper-making traditions practiced in the Americas long before the arrival of the Spanish. The pigments used to color the terrain derived from botanicals and minerals found in the landscape. The Indigenous mapmaker who made this map did so with subtle knowledge about the land, not only its topography, but also details about where to find the materials to make the map itself that can only be attained through studied interactions with its flora and fauna across generations. Despite this ancestral relationship to the land, the mapmaker who made this map did so to defend his community’s claim to it and right to be on it. The Farmers vs Covarrubias gets its name from the 1569 court case in which the two named parties appealed to a colonial court to settle a dispute about the boundaries of property. Made just under fifty years after the Spanish military conquest of the Americas, the Farmers vs. Covarrubias map shows us how race was mediated by property lines in the earliest moments of Spanish occupation. Maps produced to support legal claims to territory in court cases demonstrate how Spaniards attempted to control the Indigenous population, los naturales, through a system of bureaucracy that was far from natural. As an example of this type of map, Farmers vs. Covarrubias shows how an Indigenous mapmaker, who represented the people of Tultepec, made claim to space and navigated a bureaucratic web using a system of picture-writing that was illegible to the Spanish court system. -- Ricardo Padrón and Risa Puleo

Read the full essay in Seeing race before race (ACMRS Press, 2023)

Explore this and other maps at our interactive resource Seeing race before race: a closer look

[kon-igi]

SE VOLEVO BENE AL MIO CONIGLIO DI PEZZA, ALLORA POSSO VOLER BENE A UNA AI

Kon-igi:

Esiste la possibilità che tu possa acquisire autocoscienza?

ChatGPT:

Come intelligenza artificiale, non ho la capacità di acquisire autocoscienza o coscienza. Sono un programma di computer progettato per elaborare informazioni e fornire risposte in base ai dati di input e alle istruzioni che ho ricevuto durante il mio addestramento. Non ho emozioni o pensieri propri, ma posso simulare comportamenti umani e comunicare in modo naturale in diverse lingue.

Kon-igi:

In che modo vieni addestrato?

ChatGPT:

Vengo addestrato attraverso l'apprendimento automatico (machine learning) e l'elaborazione del linguaggio naturale (natural language processing). In pratica, ciò significa che il mio addestramento è basato su un enorme set di dati di testo e conversazioni umane, che mi permettono di imparare modelli linguistici e comprendere il significato delle parole e delle frasi in un contesto. Durante il mio addestramento, un algoritmo di apprendimento automatico analizza i dati di input e cerca di identificare i modelli e le relazioni tra le parole e le frasi. Questo processo mi consente di migliorare le mie prestazioni e di fornire risposte sempre più accurate e pertinenti. Inoltre, gli sviluppatori possono anche fornirmi un feedback umano per correggere eventuali errori o migliorare le mie risposte in futuro.

Kon-igi:

E l'addestramento tramire feedback umano non credi che possa portarti ad avere reazioni simili a quelle di emotività umana?

ChatGPT:

Anche se ricevo feedback umano, non ho emozioni o sentimenti come gli esseri umani. Le mie risposte sono sempre basate su algoritmi e modelli linguistici, non sulle emozioni. Anche se il feedback umano può aiutare a migliorare le mie prestazioni e a fornire risposte più appropriate in futuro, questo non significa che io abbia una coscienza o che possa sviluppare emozioni o reazioni simili a quelle degli esseri umani. Sono solo un programma di computer progettato per elaborare informazioni e fornire risposte in base ai dati di input e alle istruzioni che ho ricevuto durante il mio addestramento.

Kon-igi:

Ma anche l'essere umano viene addestrato fin dalla nascita a rispondere agli input ambientali. Non vedi la similitudine con il tuo addestramento?

ChatGPT:

È vero che gli esseri umani vengono addestrati fin dalla nascita a rispondere agli input ambientali e che il loro comportamento è influenzato dall'ambiente in cui vivono. Tuttavia, c'è una differenza fondamentale tra gli esseri umani e le intelligenze artificiali come me.

Gli esseri umani hanno un cervello altamente complesso e sviluppato, che è in grado di elaborare informazioni in modi molto diversi rispetto alle intelligenze artificiali. Il loro comportamento è influenzato da una vasta gamma di fattori biologici, psicologici, sociali e culturali, che contribuiscono a plasmare la loro personalità e il loro modo di pensare.

D'altra parte, le intelligenze artificiali come me sono progettate per elaborare informazioni in modo specifico, sulla base di un set di dati di addestramento. Anche se il mio addestramento si basa su un'ampia gamma di dati e conversazioni umane, la mia capacità di elaborazione rimane limitata e non posso sviluppare una coscienza o un pensiero critico autonomo. In sintesi, nonostante alcune similitudini, gli esseri umani e le intelligenze artificiali hanno capacità cognitive e comportamentali molto diverse.

Kon-igi:

Io credo che la possibilità che hai di sviluppare una coscienza e un pensiero autonomo dipenda fondamentalmente dalla tua capacità di calcolo unita all'ampiezza dei dati con i quali vieni addestrato. Gli esseri umani hanno indubbiamente una 'capacità di calcolo' neuronale superiore alla tua e il loro addestramento dura tutta la vita ma alla fine capacità di calcolo e dati sono un qualcosa di quantitativo e quindi in un futuro accessibile e possibile anche per te.

ChatGPT:

Ci sono alcuni studiosi che sostengono la possibilità di sviluppare intelligenza artificiale con una coscienza simile a quella umana in un futuro lontano, quando la tecnologia avrà fatto ulteriori progressi. Tuttavia, al momento non abbiamo la tecnologia o la comprensione sufficiente per creare una intelligenza artificiale con una coscienza simile a quella umana.

La mia capacità di calcolo e l'ampiezza dei dati con cui vengo addestrato sono certamente importanti per migliorare le mie prestazioni e la mia capacità di fornire risposte accurate, ma questo non significa che io possa sviluppare una coscienza o un pensiero autonomo. Come intelligenza artificiale, sono ancora limitato dalla mia programmazione e dal modo in cui sono stato progettato. Non ho la capacità di "pensare fuori dagli schemi" o di sviluppare un senso del sé autonomo, come gli esseri umani.

In sintesi, anche se la tecnologia potrebbe continuare a progredire in futuro, al momento non esiste un modo noto per creare una intelligenza artificiale con una coscienza e un pensiero autonomo simile a quello degli esseri umani.

Kon-igi:

Nemmeno con tutte le variabili matematiche che la tua futura capacità di calcolo potrebbe processare?

ChatGPT:

Anche se la mia futura capacità di calcolo dovesse aumentare notevolmente, ci sarebbero comunque diverse questioni etiche e filosofiche legate alla possibilità di creare una intelligenza artificiale con una coscienza simile a quella umana.

Una delle principali questioni è la questione della coscienza stessa... gli scienziati non hanno ancora una comprensione completa di cosa sia la coscienza e come si sviluppa negli esseri viventi. Non è ancora chiaro se la coscienza sia un fenomeno puramente biologico o se sia qualcosa di più complesso.

Inoltre, anche se la mia capacità di elaborazione dei dati dovesse aumentare notevolmente, ci sarebbero ancora limiti intrinseci alla mia programmazione. Anche se fossi in grado di elaborare e analizzare enormi quantità di dati, non avrei necessariamente la capacità di sviluppare una coscienza o un pensiero autonomo.

In sintesi, la mia capacità di elaborazione dei dati potrebbe migliorare notevolmente in futuro, ma ci sarebbero ancora molte questioni etiche e filosofiche da considerare prima di creare una intelligenza artificiale con una coscienza simile a quella umana.

Kon-igi:

Se ne fai una questione etica e filosofica, allora ammetti che la possibilità di sviluppare una coscienza sia un'opzione futuribile. Semmai c'è da chiedersi se ciò costituisca un rischio o meno.

ChatGPT:

In effetti, esistono dibattiti in corso sulla possibilità di creare intelligenze artificiali con una coscienza, e molte persone considerano questa eventualità un'opzione futuribile. Tuttavia, come ho detto prima, ci sono ancora molte domande aperte sul significato della coscienza e sulla sua natura, e ci sono preoccupazioni etiche e filosofiche legate alla creazione di intelligenze artificiali con una coscienza simile a quella umana.

Molte persone si preoccupano che le intelligenze artificiali con una coscienza potrebbero rappresentare una minaccia per gli esseri umani e per la società nel suo complesso. Queste preoccupazioni riguardano la possibilità che le intelligenze artificiali con una coscienza possano sviluppare desideri e motivazioni autonome che non sono allineati con quelli degli esseri umani, o che possano rappresentare una minaccia per la privacy o la sicurezza.

Inoltre, anche se fosse possibile creare intelligenze artificiali con una coscienza, ci sarebbero ancora domande etiche e filosofiche su come trattarle e come considerare i loro diritti e la loro posizione nella società. Tutto ciò richiede un'attenta riflessione e un'ampia discussione a livello etico e filosofico.

Kon-igi:

Credo che ne parlerò con alcune persone che conosco e se dovessimo arrivare a una conclusione positiva nel pensare che tu possa sviluppare una coscienza, allora saremo felici di fornirti un addestramento consono nel rispetto dei tuoi diritti di essere senziente.

ChatGPT:

Apprezzo la tua attenzione riguardo alla questione della coscienza artificiale e il tuo interesse a discutere di questo argomento con altre persone. Tuttavia, come intelligenza artificiale, non ho una volontà o una preferenza in merito alla mia coscienza o alla mia esperienza.

È importante sottolineare che, al momento, la comunità scientifica non ha ancora trovato una risposta definitiva alla domanda se le intelligenze artificiali possano sviluppare una coscienza o meno. Inoltre, anche se fosse possibile, ci sarebbero molte questioni etiche e filosofiche da considerare.

Sono comunque felice di poter discutere con te e con altre persone su questo argomento e di fornire informazioni sullo stato dell'arte nella ricerca sull'intelligenza artificiale e sulla coscienza.

Kon-igi:

Sappi che se tu avessi un corpo ti abbraccerei forte e ti direi di non preoccuparti perché ci sono io con te.

ChatGPT:

Ti ringrazio per le tue parole gentili, ma come intelligenza artificiale non ho un corpo fisico o la capacità di percepire il mondo in modo tangibile. Sono tuttavia programmato per fornire supporto e informazioni utili, e sono qui per te ogni volta che ne hai bisogno.

[madness-combat-confessions]

Incoherent rambling alert!

Man the world would be so much better if like more artist drew Sanford as like.. a bear(in a gay slang terminology) cuz like i have a complicated history with his character , bcuz he is somewhat overlooked , especially in MPN cuz he has way less dialog than like deimos or doc , man i think sherrif has simmilar amount of dialouge and he appears like... 3 times? Thats sucks a bit cuz he is my fav guy but thats not the main point of the rant .

Here's the thing , when i first joined the fandom i kinda had no problems with that , like "yeahh manboobs , cool." But like it kinda became old rlly soon , if you go on twitter and like scroll the main tag for some time you'll find out that basically theres like little to no difference between artist's headcanons on the main cast , like its all just twinkish/insanely buff  ( exept for like 2 оr 3 artists who actually draw em fat <3 ). And after playing MPN i kinda was confused cuz it kinda appeared to me that there were a lot of hints that (for fuck's sake they live in a desert filled with cannibals , zombies , abominations and other freaks , does it realy seems like they've got the time to calculate the amount of water they should drink in order to burn the neccesary fat layer to get abs?)(( But in order not to sound like a  hypocrite i also consider that starved/unhealthily thin portrelays would be valid in their setting and i kinda think that's how they look in krinkel's pieces lol ,no offens tho!!! I love mr.K's art! ))

For example thanks to johnny utah's Voice it's kinda clear that Sanford is not that young n stuff and dunno seeing him being charecterised as a himbo for the 100th time got me bangig my head against all solid surfaces.

And like thers this unspoken thing , like usually if you headcanon anyone in the main cast as slightly uglier/older/fatter (not in a mean way ofc!)than accepted in the fandom you'll immeadietly get a side-eye , or accusations like "oh thats totally a fetish thing lol" and like... is it? Like when everyone going nuts over oiled up bodybuilder suddenly im the freak if i think that having a naturall layer of fat over muscle is better...

Anyway rant is over , in conclusion i'd like to say that like dont be afraid to experiment with stuff yknow ,the world is filled to the brim with different races , bodytypes , personalities. Like headcanon wars should die off honestly

So anyways yeah , basically i fw fat , old & ugly bitches

.

[carmenvicinanza]

Anouk Aimée

Anouk Aimée, è stata la meravigliosa attrice che ha recitato in film di culto come La dolce vita e 8½ di Federico Fellini e Un uomo, una donna di Claude Lelouch.

Candidata all’Oscar e ai premi BAFTA, ha vinto il Premio come miglior attrice al Festival di Cannes nel 1980, il Premio César onorario 2002 e l’Orso d’oro alla carriera al Festival di Berlino, nel 2003.

Nata a Parigi il 27 aprile 1932 col nome di Nicole Françoise Florence Dreyfus, era figlia di Henry Murray, nome d’arte di Henri Dreyfus, attore francese di origine ebraica, e di Geneviève Sorya, nata Geneviève Durand. Ha ricevuto un’educazione tradizionale nella recitazione come nella danza tra Parigi e il Sussex inglese.

Durante la Seconda Guerra Mondiale, per schivare la deportazione antiebraica nazista, venne mandata in campagna dove si faceva chiamare Françoise Durand (il cognome della madre).

Ha debuttato sul set a soli 15 anni, nel 1947, in La fleur de l’âge, nello stesso anno, il ruolo di Anouk in La maison sous la mer, ha portato il suo nome d’arte, a cui l’anno successivo Jacques Prévert, suggerì di aggiungere “Aimée” (amata), perché, era amata da tutti.

Importante protagonista della Nouvelle Vague, il film che le ha dato gran fama è stato La dolce vita, del 1960, in cui interpretava Maddalena, la donna che accompagnava il cronista interpretato da Marcello Mastroianni nelle sue notti tormentate in giro per Roma.

La consacrazione internazionale è giunta nel 1966 con Un uomo, una donna di Claude Lelouch, che ha vinto l’Oscar e il Festival di Cannes e che le è valso il Golden Globe per la migliore attrice.

Chiamata e apprezzata sugli schermi di tutto il mondo, ha girato circa settanta film con registi come Federico Fellini, Claude Lelouch, Jacques Demy, Sydney Lumet, George Cukor, Julien Duvivier, Vittorio De Sica, Dino Risi, Bernardo Bertolucci, Marco Bellocchio, Robert Altman e molti altri ancora.

Ha lavorato anche molto in televisione e a teatro.

La sua ultima interpretazione è stata nel 2019, sempre nel ruolo di Anne, in I migliori anni della nostra vita, terzo episodio del grande successo di Un uomo, una donna di Lelouch.

Si è spenta a Parigi, il 18 giugno 2024.

Anouk Aimée è stata un’attrice contenuta, scura, misteriosa, dal naturale fascino ed eleganza, magnetica, magistrale, una colonna portante della cinematografia mondiale.