au where viktor is seijou’s famous setter (( “i’ve heard college teams were scouting him even in middle school” “one time he beat my team… it was awesome” )) and yuuri hardcore admires him and maybe a bit more ~ yuuri messes up really bad and wants to quit - queue viktor, uninspired by the sport until he sees one (1) katuski yuuri warming up, transferring to karasuno to set for their adorable ace {twitter ♡ ig}
there’s a decent amt of neurologists who’ve called the sleep schedules we’re obligated to be on despite flagrant conflict with our natural circadian rhythms “borderline torture” and the work hours we’re expected to put in despite the fact that the average person can only maintain maximal efficiency and focus for 3 hours at a time “nearly inhumane” and i think about that a lot
Sad update everyone, Tama recently passed away… An estimated 3,000 people, including railway officials, attended Tama the cat’s funeral on Sunday, days after she died of heart failure aged 16. [x]
retro-geek
For those who haven’t read articles about it, the local shrine elevated her to a god. She’s now the Eternal Stationmaster and patron god of the station.
Nitama, already now a mature cat (born 2010), has a protege named Yontama (fourth Tama, b. 2016). There is no information available for either the physical befellment or tragic self-disgrace which has removed Santama from contention.
I’d just like to add that there is a ‘Santama’, whose name was ‘SUNtamatama’ (the capitalisation is not my own, it’s in the actual name). They were sent to Okayama prefecture for station-master training. The Okayama PR rep Mister/Ms Y, who was looking after SUNtamatama then refused to let go of the cat, saying something along the lines of, “This child is ours and I will not let them go, they will stay in Okayama”, and so SUNtamatama remained in Okayama.
i crave simple things in life like fresh sourdough bread with a shallow but ornate dipping bowl containing olive oil/balsamic/fresh herbs on a moonlit evening overlooking the sea in some fuckall, Mediterranean location where i’m left alone to eat my bread and let the iodine from the sea air heal my torn up spirit & also six hundred million dollars in unmarked duffle bags stuffed into a swiss bank account box i receive for completing a job of dubious morality
look at the two of them. dressed to the nines. silks from france and cotton from egypt. chanel on them both. they’re at a party neither of them was invited to, but so damn good looking that no one in their right mind would turn them away at the door. the woman - titties free under that dress, scoping out women in salacious flapper dresses in gloves created from 100,000 insects’ life work. the man - smoking a cigarette he took out from the mouth of one of the millionaires at the party, saying nothing but giving him a slow smile and a wink. the flower in his lapel is fake. dying plants in your clothing is such a hideous fashion. the both of them haven’t spoken to anyone there, though everyone has tried. they stand on the stairs staring at the heterosexual proles gathered below them together, and the two of them wonder if those fools realize that they’re outclassed, that in every way, they’ve been outdone. they leave early with a bottle of champagne in each fist, and no one stops them.
[Image IDs: Image #1: Tweet from M. Lockwood Porter (@/ mLockwoodPorter) reading: My best friend and I wanted to go to a Blink 182 concert in high school but couldn't afford tickets, so we told everyone in our extremely Baptist Oklahoma town that God calles us to spread the gospel at an evil secular concert but we needed donations to get in. We turned a profit. Image #2: Tumblr reply from glamourWeaver reading: Some people in these comments are like "how dare you use people's faith to scam them out of money like that.... that's the pastor's job!" /End ID]