Icon by @ThatSpookyAgent. Call me Tir or Julian. 37. He/They. Queer. Twitter: @tirlaeyn. ao3: tirlaeyn. 18+ Only. Star Trek. The X-Files. Sandman. IwtV. OMFD. Definitionless in this Strict Atmosphere.
shoutout to the poor person who tried to email the registrar and instead emailed the mailing list of all registered students resulting in every student at this university realizing, at 1am on a sunday, that they all had the power to send emails to every single student at once which in turn resulted in a grand total of 2,201 emails being sent in a two hour period to Every Single Student at this school. all of us. every single one.
things that have come out of this email chain:
a administrative investigation into a dude who was racist in the chain only to be immediately dogpiled by everyone else
a discord created for anyone at the school who wants to join, the link sent out in the chain
the email address used to make the chain (registered-students) being signed up for target emails, which worked
the same racist dude from before having pictures of his face sent in the discord so now everyone knows what he looks like in case they come across him
a girl with a funny name that i won’t say for the sake of. it’s her full name. becoming a meme and embracing it so hard. she has her own channel in the discord and people were wearing merch with her name on it yesterday i saw them in public (meaning i saw people wearing masks with her name written on them with sharpie)
discord user t.hanos who only ever sends that one gif of thanos where the t is on top of the rest of the word. they also have their own channel and it is Only that gif
all of the professors being mostly unaware of what’s going on bc there wasn’t a single person in charge on the chain it was exclusively students
the IT department having to explain why their mailing list for all registered students didn’t have any kind of security on it
everyone who’s ever tried to email somebody a question once ever wondering why all these people were awake to send emails at 1am on a sunday but cannot be reached ever when there’s an important question to be answered
When a drunk girl outside a club bathroom speaks… you listen. If she tells you that you’ll find love despite being hurt in the past? She’s right. If she tells you to stop being so self-aware? She’s right. They are the modern day Oracles at Delphi and must be taken at their every word
Drunk girls at club bathrooms are the best people you will ever meet
The line crawled like a python, hugging the wall while the club floor writhed and strobe lights painted the ceiling in all the colours of a migraine. It wasn’t much better once you got inside; the toilets smelled of bleach, perfume and piss, while girls in dresses as iridescent as corpse flies took selfies and fixed sweaty snakes of hair.
The oracle perched on the counter, next to a sink stopped up with toilet paper. She wore a white bodycon dress and purple glitter smeared across her cheeks. A necklace of sweat gleamed at her throat, and beads of it shone upon her forehead.
She had a vape pen in her hands and she took long pulls from it as she listened to a girl in tight jeans and sequins complain. “I met this guy on OkCupid,” the girl was saying. “We’re hooking up and the sex is crazy good, right? He’s fine as hell, see?” She held out her phone to show the headless selfie of a naked man, his body tanned and gleaming. “But he lied about his name or he doesn’t have social media. He’s not on Insta, not on Snapchat, not even Facebook. What the fuck? What’s he hiding?”
“Oh my god,” said the oracle. “Yes, what the actual fuck? Who does that? Only serial killers. You should like. You shouldn’t take that.”
“Right?”
“You’re too good for this.”
“What do I do?”
“Wait ‘til he’s fucked out, then go through his pockets. Check his phone. If you can’t get in his phone, check his wallet, his driving license. See who this fucker really is.”
“You’re right,” said the girl, shedding sequins on the floor. “You’re so right. I’m gonna do that. I’m gonna call him and I’m gonna do that.”
“I love you, okay?” The oracle placed her hands on the girl’s bare shoulders, her earnest eyes all pupil. “You can do this. I’m here for you,” she said, pulling her close, resting a damp, hot cheek on her shoulder.
The OkCupid girl stepped away and another supplicant came forward.
The oracle of the Delphi bathrooms smiled at her with lipstick on her bared teeth. “Hey, oh my god, I love your hair. It’s so pretty. You’re so pretty.”
“Bitch,” the new girl said. “Did you tell my dad to sacrifice me to a fucking sea monster?”
