#400 year old home

[mossandfog]

400-Year-Old Gothic Mansion in NYC Was Originally Built in Amsterdam

On sale for the first time in 50 years, this remarkable Gothic mansion is in New York City’s Gramercy Park neighborhood, and has some amazing history. Originally built over 400 years ago, the entire home was disassembled and moved to New York City in 1845. Amazingly, it was then moved again in 1910, where it sits today, on a quiet street in this upscale, historically significant…

[hivemindclown]

if you're so worried about him than come home, violet.

[thepuppypaddedprincess]

Where i live we have an annual culture festival where all sorts of places do features and events in the evening! The reason i bring it up is that its not only theater groups and museums, but also government branches and corporations! A lot of those big scary adult buildings gets opened up to the public and you get to see where people like that work. Its always super interesting both from an architectural perspective AND curiosity perspective!

the best part about having a job is being able to go through doors other people aren’t allowed to use the worst part is everything else

[digiblueslush]

OMG MORE THOUGHTS I literally have so many deep analysis-obdervational thoughts and they're all so complex but I can only explain so many. Here is one about Dan and Phil tho lolz

this became 4x the initially intended length, so cut for convenience and a tldr: Dan and Phil are great, other couple's/relationship content is icky to me, I feel out of place when it comes to irl friends and their relationships, Dan and Phil are great because they're both individuals and a unit at the same time, and I don't feel there is a side to be picked. Dan and Phil are great because they are best friends and not just a romantic or sexual unit. Dan and Phil are great because they are Dan and Phil and they aren't trying to fit any kind of mold. Dan and Phil are just great.

The blurb that is directly about DNP is blue if you only want DNP yappage :3

I find it kind of interesting the way I (and probably some amount of others) feel about Dan and Phil as a "unit" compared to literally any other couple. Cuz ok, not gonna lie but I really hate watching couples YouTube channels or other social media things in any direction. If it's trying to be sexy or something I hate it, if it's trying to be funny, I hate it, I hate those videos where couples do those tests on each other even if it ends well, it sends such an icky vibe my way. I usually really don't like those sappy/wholesome couples videos, but every now and then there's one thats nice (but usually because it has ties to something else that I really like). I dont know if it's just something so overdone or if I feel like I'm seeing something too personal or if its just overall bad, but I just really don't enjoy it

I don't have many friends, nor many friends in relationships, but I've observed even then that I feel out of place for lack of better phrasing. I find the crush phase fun cuz it gives me an excuse to a. Hype up my friends and b. Tell them they're being stupid and overly worried, and I also love seeing them get all excited about something. And I like hearing about the initial couple weeks of a relationship too when new things are being unearthed about both people, but past that I just feel, awkward I guess? I usually know one person as a friend, and the other as an extension of the friend, and I only talk to the other person as such, but sometimes if a friend is complaining about something their partner said, if I say no they had a valid point, I feel like I'm being a bad friend, but it's untruthful if I say my friend is always in the right. I already never know what to do in social situations and adding in another person that I basically all I know about them is their highs and lows and when they're picking a friend up just completely shot putts my social processing to the moon. Out of all of the relationships I have observed with friends, there has quite literally only been 1 where it doesn't feel awkward for both conversations with one or the other and both at the same time, and that couple is basically if Dan and Phil were lesbian stoners lolz. Idk if this part makes sense lolz I rambled for wayyyy too long. (And also I don't mean that if we do talk more personally that I don't want to hear about your relationship if you're in one. If it is something you're excited or upset about and you want to talk to me about it I am quite literally all ears, I am very nosey lolz. It might just be poor experience with past friends as well, but I may need more or less thorough descriptions of things and a general what's cool what's not cool to bring up)

Getting back on track tho, I think Dan and Phil and so great because I am able to see them as individuals as well as a unit. None of their content is about whatever they have going on, and even though we all know what going steady 400 year old tortoises means, I could see very similar content being made by 2 actually just best friends. I think that's another reason why they're so great. A lot of times with publicized relationship things, it is so, SO focused on the romantic or sexual aspect that people forget that so much of a relationship is just doing best friend things. I'll leave my identity and existential and social concept crises out of this, but realistically (I'll specify, I'm not talking about unhealthy or toxic relationships) relationships are mostly just existing in the same space together, seeing something that reminded you of them and showing it to them, jokingly insulting them, and doing things together. Nobody is constantly wearing fancy clothes and professing their love. It feels just so natural and simple. They're able to exist as Dan Howell and Phil Lester, AND exist as Dan and Phil, and having it not be just one side or the other, yet they're still connected enough that even when I watch one of them as an individual more than the other one, I don't feel like I'm being placed into this "Dan is better" "Phil is better" box that most other relationship things put me in, and I can equally praise and insult them both :3

Ramble over DAMN I was like "this is gonna be a short one" and tis not a short one -_____- oh well. WHAT CAN I SAY the autism, Vyvanse, no school no not for fun/personal projects going on deluxe wombo combo going on is going on HARD lmao

[batboyblog]

Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #39

October 18-25 2024.

President Biden issued the first presidential apology on behalf of the federal government to America's Native American population for the Indian boarding school policy. For 150 years the federal government operated a system of schools which aimed to destroy Native culture through the forced assimilation of native children. At these schools students faced physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, and close to 1,000 died. The Biden-Harris Administration has been historic for Native and Tribal rights. From the appointment of the first ever Native American cabinet member, Secretary of the Interior Deb Haaland, to the investment of $46 billion dollars on tribal land, to 200 new co-stewardship agreements. The last 4 years have seen a historic investment in and expansion of tribal rights.

The Biden-Harris Administration proposed a new rule which would make contraceptive medication (the pill) free over the counter with most Insurance. The new rule would ban cost sharing for contraception products, including the pill, condoms, and emergency contraception. On top of over the counter medications, the new rule will also strength protections for prescribed contraception without cost sharing as well.

The EPA announced its finalized rule strengthening standards for lead paint dust in pre-1978 housing and child care facilities. There is no safe level of exposure to lead particularly for children who can suffer long term developmental consequences from lead exposure. The new standards set the lowest level of lead particle that can be identified by a lab as the standard for lead abatement. It's estimated 31 million homes built before the ban on lead paint in 1978 have lead paint and 3.8 million of those have one or more children under the age of 6. The new rule will mean 1.2 million fewer people, including over 300,000 children will not be exposed to lead particles every year. This comes after the Biden-Harris Administration announced its goal to remove and replace all lead pipes in America by the end of the decade.

The Department of Transportation announced a $50 million dollar fine against American Airlines for its treatment of disabled passengers and their wheelchairs. The fine stems from a number of incidences of humiliating and unfair treatment of passages between 2019 and 2023, as well as video documented evidence of mishandling wheelchairs and damaging them. Half the fine will go to replacing such damaged wheelchairs. The Biden administration has leveled a historic number of fines against the airlines ($225 million) for their failures. It also published a Airline Passengers with Disabilities Bill of Rights, passed a new rule accessible lavatories on aircraft, and is working on a rule to require airlines to replace lost or damaged wheelchairs with equal equipment at once.

The Department of Energy announced $430 million dollars to help boost domestic clean energy manufacturing in former coal communities. This invests in projects in 15 different communities, in places like Texas, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Kentucky, and Michigan. The plan will bring about 1,900 new jobs in communities struggling with the loss of coal. Projects include making insulation out of recycled cardboard, low carbon cement production, and industrial fiber hemp processing.

The Department of Transportation announced $4.2 billion in new infrastructure investment. The money will go to 44 projects across the country. For example the MBTA will get $400 million to replace the 92 year old Draw 1 bridge and renovate North Station.

The Department of Transportation announced nearly $200 million to replace aging natural gas pipes. Leaking gas lines represent a serious public health risk and also cost costumers. Planned replacements in Georgia and North Carolina for example will save the average costumer there over $900 on their gas bill a year. Replacing leaking lines will also remove 1,000 metric tons of methane pollution, annually.

The Department of the Interior announced $244 million to address legacy pollution in Pennsylvania coal country. This comes on top of $400 million invested earlier this year. This investment will help close dangerous mine shafts, reclaim unstable slopes, improve water quality by treating acid mine drainage, and restore water supplies damaged by mining.

Data shows that President Biden's Inflation Reduction Act (passed with Vice-President Harris' tie breaking vote) has saved seniors $1 billion dollars on out-of-pocket drug costs. Seniors with certain high priced drugs saw their yearly out of pocket costs capped at $3,500 for 2024. In 2024 all seniors using Medicare Part D will see their out of pocket costs capped at $2,000 for the year. It's estimated if the $2,000 cap had been in effect this year 4.6 million seniors would have hit it by June and not have had to pay any more for medication for the rest of the year.

The Department of Education announced a new proposed rule to bring student debt relief for 8 million struggling borrowers. The Biden-Harris Administration has managed despite road blocks from Republicans in Congress, the courts and law suits from Republican states to bring student loan forgiveness to 5 million Americans so far through different programs. This latest rule would take into account many financial hardships faced by people to determine if they qualify to have their student loans forgiven. The final rule cannot be finalized before 2025 meaning its fate will be decided at the election.

The Department of Agriculture announced $1.5 billion in 92 partner-driven conservation projects. These projects aim at making farming more susceptible and environmental friendly, 16 projects are about water conservation in the West, 6 support use of innovative technologies to reduce enteric methane emissions in livestock. $100 million has been earmarked for Tribal-led projects.

[3000s]

@fadel-dani He is only 23 years old, a third-year IT student, and he and his family were displaced several times during the genocide.

When Israel destroyed his university, he was deeply affected because he had excelled in his studies and aspired to become a successful and well-known engineer.

When his family returned to their home, after being displaced five times, bombs fell on their house. They miraculously survived the explosion, but Fadel was unfortunately injured and fainted.

Fadel woke up in the hospital and learned that due to the complete collapse of hospitals in northern Gaza, he and his family had been transferred, under extremely dangerous conditions, to a hospital in southern Gaza.

Furthermore, he learned that while unconscious, he had undergone surgery to remove metal shrapnel that had penetrated his body during the bombing. Due to the extreme danger and the collapse of the healthcare system, some of the pieces could not be removed on the spot. A doctor assessed his health and informed his family that he needed to receive treatment in another country as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, his travel and surgeries require travel and treatment expenses, and his family cannot afford them due to their deteriorating economic situation caused by the war. Therefore, Fadl created a campaign to enable him to travel and receive treatment as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, his campaign is progressing very slowly, having only raised 2,952 euros out of a target of 30,000 euros. I ask everyone to stand by him and help him.

He bled profusely that day. His normal blood count is low because he has thalassemia. The cost of the medication is too high for them, and he has fainted several times.

So far, they have waited more than 400 days to reach their fundraising goal so he can receive the necessary surgery. 400 days of physical and psychological suffering, feeling shrapnel from the Israeli bombing that destroyed his childhood home embedded in his body.

His campaign (gazavetters #197) has been verified, and you can help him raise funds to receive medical care as soon as possible by sending some money here:

[redbean-nom]

okay so I had Many Thoughts about this

first of all. formative character experiences for feanor: miriel's death, finwe's remarriage, finwe's death, theft of the silmarils

feanor's general power level is best suited for the old republic era (because absent of true valar to fight, the finweans as an entire force can only really clash against people like vitiate/nihilus/et cetera, aka Fellow Turbo-Fëa-Having Force Sensitives

old republic feanor

miriel's death and finwe's remarriage are the same

the assorted children of indis exist

valinor is a sector somewhere towards the inner rim-ish area?

the sector is similar to mortis in terms of The Gods Walk These Lands force weirdness

feanor still has his turbo-fea except it also comes with a hefty dose of force weirdness

tirion is a city-planet (like taris and coruscant)

formenos is an exile planet at the very edge of the valinor sector

feanor's exile goes the same way

while most of the house of feanor are visiting taniquetil for the festival, the mandalorian army invades and bombs formenos

finwe is killed in battle with mandalore the ultimate (who is being influenced by vitiate) (who is inhabiting the body of the Son) (who somehow merged with melkor)

melkor-vitiate brings with him ungoliant, a rogue sith with similar powers to nihilus. (also she's whatever species this lady is)

seeing as there are many suns and moons in the galaxy, ungoliant instead drains the Force on the planet

the silmarils are taken as a war prize and set into an axe, like the Courageous-scrap axe

the mandalorians then promptly leave because ungoliant is trying to eat everyone

turns out feanor's star-gems are artificial kyber

also turns out mithril = noldorin steel = beskar

feanor makes eight beskar-hilted sabers the color of fire

the Oath happens, with the focus being Ultimate. the fiery glow of the sabers eclipses for an almost imperceptible moment

the swanships are the only (star)ships that are capable of making it out of the Belegelen Nebula. (the mandalorians brute forced it with a ton of bombs and shielding, similar to the king's men steel-warshipping their way back across the Sea)

kinslaying happens, with lightsabers

turns out, feanor is extremely force sensitive in a wildly uncontrolled manner (he has that rare force-fire ability)

the burning at losgar (spaceport in a neighboring sector) was caused by feanor's force-fire

version with feanor's death

the host of fingolfin crosses the helcaraxe (frozen asteroid belt). they have space suits and small transports but no actual ship

they encounter a space slug somewhere along the way

meanwhile in beleriand (rest of the galaxy) they land on a random planet (Taris) that turns out to be in the middle of an invasion by the mandalorians. feanor gets killed by cassus fett. oops.

feanor explodes in a fireball that takes out a chunk of the lower city

maedhros is captured in a negotiation-turned-ambush. seeing as he is force sensitive, he gets sent to flashpoint/demagol.

maglor takes over in his stead

fingon goes to rescue maedhros. the hand is once again an issue. this also happens to be around the same time as alek/zayne/jarael escape

fingon and maedhros escape via purgill.

around the same time, the host of fingolfin finally makes it through the helcaraxe and arrives at the Jedi Tower.

fast forward a bit

everyone's spread out to different planets/regions in the taris sector. maglor is still right next to the mandalore sector. the Gap is a major hyperspace lane.

Dagor Aglareb happens!

the aglareb is the main battle instead of serroco

the noldor are becoming a bigger threat than the republic because they are also a bunch of warriors with beskar/noldorin-steel armor, except they're all immortal and incredibly sturdy

around the same time, revan emerges with the revanchists

the area around mandalorian space is a disaster

maedhros at this point is solidly in his white fire era and about as powerful as the perfectly optimized star wars rpg character of someone doing their twentieth playthrough

fingolfin is a bundle of skywalker-level force craziness

to be continued!

version with feanor alive

the host of fingolfin crosses the helcaraxe (frozen asteroid belt). they have space suits and small transports but no actual ship

they encounter a space slug somewhere along the way

meanwhile in beleriand (rest of the galaxy) they land on a random planet (Taris) pre-invasion

feanor devotes himself to figuring out his New Skill (force fire) because he absolutely must be a master of every possible thing he does

to be continued!

May I present... Caranthir the Dark.

Also, this was so incredibly satisfying to draw, even if it did take just a bit longer than my previous works. Plus it's my best digital piece as of now, and I'm incredibly proud of it!😁

[cherrygirlfriend]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ housewife

pairing: dad!rafe x farmer's wife!reader synopsis: rafe comes home and tries to take care of reader. warnings/tags: fluff! smut! MDNI! wc: 400 a/n; i can't stop thinking about being a housewife

farmer’s wife masterlist ♡ rafe masterlist

you could tell that your husband was home from two things; the way the sound of the door banging echoed across your shared home, and the way tiny footsteps immediately ran to the front door. it had happened so much you could play the sight inside of your head like it was a movie; the five-year-old jumping into rafe's arms so happily.

"mommy!" mabel exclaimed as rafe laughed, spinning the little girl around in his arms.

"hi, maple." he chuckled, pressing a small kiss at the crown of mabel's head, "what'd you and mama learn today?"

"mama taught me math." mable rolled her eyes, "like, duhhh, five plus three is eight. everyone knows that! i'm not a baby!"

"maybe mama didn't." rafe said with widened eyes, causing mabel to snicker as he pressed another kiss on her forehead, "how about you go color something for mommy, yeah?"

"yeah!" mabel exclaimed happily, bounding back upstairs into her room. you could hear the way rafe's joints clicked as he stood up straight, and soon enough, a strong pair of arms were wrapped around you.

"so i guess i'm now an idiot, then?" you chuckled softly, leaning into rafe's touch, ignoring the vegetables you were chopping as the man pressed kisses on the column of your throat.

"guess you are." he whispered against your throat as his hand slipped into your leggings, your breath catching in your throat and your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his hands shamelessly slip into your panties, your senses filled with him.

all you could smell was the sweat on his body from working all day, all you could see inside your head was him lifting heavy things, sweating all over himself all throughout the day; you didn't really care what he actually did, but you cared about how... primal it made you feel.

"we shouldn't be doing this..." you mumbled, yet your hips rolled along with the rolls the man kept drawing on your clit.

"i'm not doing anything." rafe grinned against your skin, causing goosebumps to erupt all over you, "just greeting my wife." he grinned, his free hand grasping yours and bringing it to his mouth and pressing a kiss on it, "hello." he mumbled, making you chuckle.

then, mabel's voice interrupted it, calling out "daddy! i wanna show you my drawing." making rafe chuckle, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek as he withdrew his fingers from your panties, making you whine.

"duty calls. but later tonight..." he grinned, making you roll your eyes as he winked, walking away.

[foone]

Bad idea: Age gap discourse but in a fantasy land where there's multiple races who have vastly different lifespans and life styles.

Is it wrong for a 27 year old human to date a 140 year old stone elf, considering most stone elves don't get out of diapers till their 30s?

Is it wrong for a 80 year old dwarf to date a two year old fire wisp, when fire wisps only live up to 5 years (between the eruptions) and have memories of their past lives, so in a way they're "born" at age 400,000+? That octogenarian dwarf is way younger than the fire wisp that's only physically younger than some of the socks the dwarf has!

Is it wrong for a chronomancer who was never born to date, well, anyone? They are zero years old and infinity years old and negative one hundred and seventeen years old all at once. They look like an old human, sure, with the long white beard and the wrinkly skin, but as far as anyone can tell, they've always looked like that. We've seen the cave paintings.

Is it wrong for a 30 year old lizardman (that's old in lizardman years) to date a human who is 60 years old in biological years (because of aging spells), 26 years old in lived-experience years, but only 13 years old in calendar years? (ie, they were born 13 years ago, but spent some of that time in sideways timelines, so they've lived more years than have passed in their home timeline?)

Is it wrong for a 12,000 year old dragon date a pile of 400 kobolds when kobolds only live like 10 years on average, but reach full maturity in one year? And if you disagree, can you do anything about it? You do know what happened to the last policeman who tried to arrest a dragon, right? Their city is still smoldering, 50 years later.

Is it wrong for anyone to date the time worm? It's the same age, every year. So the age gap can only intensify. If you start dating the time worm when you're both the same age, when do you break it off because you've become too much older than them?

And most confusing of all... What about the fairies? They could be anything between a thousand and a day old, they would lie about their age either way, and they can look like whatever they want. There's fairies we know for a fact have been around since the founding of The City of Towers, who met the silent mother herself, and also look like they're at most ten years old. Is it wrong to date them, or just really uncomfortable for everyone who sees it? And on the other side there's fairies who are "born" (hatched? They come from plants, I'm not sure what the verb even would be. Seeded? Sprouted, maybe) this week who are already appearing like middle-aged men and dancing with widows in what looks like a scheme to run off with her fortune but they never take the money, because what would a fairy want with worthless metal discs? Maybe fairies have a hive mind or genetic memory or reincarnation with full memories, they'd never tell you or give you a straight (or consistent) answer anyway.

Stonefolk are really the only inter-race dating situation anyone can agree on. They're unthinking & unmoving solid rock during the day, so those hours don't count. Thus their "real age" is a nice even half of their true age. So if you meet a stonefolk who was dug out 30 years ago, watch out: that's a 15 year old, and if you're a 25 year human, that's too young for you, even though their dig-date is five years before your birth-date.

EDIT: 2024/01/12: Changed the name of the Stonefolk

[wingedhallows]

— RUSTLING MAPLE LEAVES —

— ✩₊˚.⋆☾ PAIRING southern!vi x citygirl!reader / 2.5 k words — ✩₊˚.⋆☾ SYNOPSIS When you inherit your grandmother’s farm in the heart of Georgia, the last thing you expect is Violet Lane—your rugged, maddeningly charming neighbor with a slow drawl and a smirk that could bring anyone to their knees. What starts as a simple favor—a little help with the land—quickly turns into something far more dangerous. Because Vi isn’t just good with her hands; she knows exactly how to unravel you, one lingering touch at a time. And resisting her? Well, that might just be impossible. — ✩₊˚.⋆☾ WARNING smut (minors DNI) — ✩₊˚.⋆☾ AUTHORS NOTE hey babes, i'm super late with this but it's my first time attempting to write actual smut. I thought you might enjoy this as a thanks for 400 & 500 followers. thanks babes, love u

♡︎ navigation ♡︎

Moving into your grandma’s old flat in Georgia wasn’t exactly on your bucket list this year. But when she decided she was done with the ranch—tired of the early mornings and aching bones—she signed it over to you and packed her bags for a nursing home.

And now, here you stand.

Hands on your hips, staring up at the massive oak tree out front. It’s old, gnarled, and overgrown—a mess of tangled branches just waiting to drop and split someone’s skull open.

"Surely needs trimmin’, ma’am."

The voice is smooth, warm, dipped in something slow and syrupy. You whirl around—and nearly forget how to breathe.

A woman stands there, tipping her hat with a lazy smirk. Pink hair peeks out from beneath the brim, catching the golden light just right. One hand rests on the belt of her worn jeans, and the way she carries herself—easy, confident, like she’s got all the time in the world—makes your stomach flip.

Jesus.

Since when did you have a thing for Southern women?

"Violet Lane. Pleasure. Call me Vi."

She pauses, giving the tree a once-over, and for a moment, you swear you catch a sharp cut along the edge of her jaw—like she was carved from something wild and unyielding.

"Shimmer Farm’s mine." She nods down the road, and just like that, it clicks.

Your new neighbor. And, quite possibly, your newest problem.

You finally manage to clear your throat, lifting a hand to shield your eyes from the sun. It’s too damn bright, or maybe it’s just her.

"Bonnie’s my granny—left all this to me." You gesture vaguely at the ranch around you, hoping the motion hides the slight tremor in your fingers.

Violet—or Vi, as you’re already calling her in your head—gives a short nod before leaning against the white fence. The wood creaks beneath her weight, but all you can focus on is the way her flannel stretches over her arms—sleeves rolled up just enough to show off tanned, sinewy forearms and biceps that look like they could throw you clean over her shoulder.

Jesus. Get a fucking grip.

"She mentioned it—nice lady." Her voice is slow, deliberate, dipped in molasses, and you find yourself watching her like she’s something out of a dream.

Of course, she’d know your granny. They were neighbors.

"Tell you what, city girl—I’ll trim it for ya'."

She pushes off the fence with a lazy sort of grace, nodding toward the tree.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “What? No, no—you don’t have to.”

You shake your head quickly, hoping she’ll back off, because if she gets any closer, you might just lose the battle against your absolutely feral urges.

But Vi just smirks, the kind of smirk that’s all trouble, all slow-drawled confidence that makes your stomach flip.

"Nonsense, sugar. ‘S what we do ‘round here."

And then—she winks.

You stand there, completely useless, as she turns and strides back down the driveway, hands tucked in the pockets of her beat-up jeans.

All you can do is stare after her, mouth slightly open, and hope to God nobody catches you drooling like a love-struck teenager.

Vi returns not long after, carrying a ladder, a hedge trimmer, and—oh, hell—without the flannel.

The wife beater she’s wearing should be illegal. It clings to her like a second skin, outlining lean muscle and sun-kissed shoulders, and as if that wasn’t enough to completely fry your brain, your gaze catches on the ink stretching across her upper back. Bold, intricate—something that probably runs the length of her spine.

You stand there on the porch, awkward as hell, gripping the railing like it might keep you from falling over. God, help me.

Vi doesn’t say a word as she props the ladder against the thick trunk of the tree, adjusts her hat, and climbs up like she’s done this a thousand times before.

And maybe it’s your imagination—or maybe she flexes, just a little, when she lifts the trimmer.

She knows you’re watching. And she sure as hell doesn’t mind.

The hedge trimmer hums to life, and you realize you should probably say something—anything—to make this feel a little less like you’re shamelessly ogling her.

"So… what kind of farm is ‘Shimmer’?" Your voice is quieter than you intended, but steady.

Vi doesn’t look away from her work, but she answers anyway, cool and easy.

"Horse farm. Got some sheep, too. Ma’  Pop, and my sister run it with me."

You nod, soaking that in. So, she works on a horse farm, probably rides, probably knows how to rope cattle, probably looks stupidly good doing it.

One question lingers in the back of your mind, burning at the tip of your tongue before you can stop it.

"Just you three? No boyfriend?"

You swear you hear her chuckle—low, rough, the kind of sound that zips straight through your bloodstream and leaves a warm ache in its wake.

Then she turns her head, baby blues locking onto yours, lazy smirk playing at her lips.

"Nah. I don’t swing that way."

Her voice is amused, like she already knows the effect it’s having on you.

And just like that, your brain short circuits.

She’s into women.

Oh.

A few hours later, the tree is neatly trimmed, the stray branches hauled off to God knows where—somewhere in the back of Vi’s truck, probably, but you’d been a little too distracted watching her maneuver the damn thing like she was born with a steering wheel in her hand.

She’d backed into your driveway with one arm slung over the passenger seat, her other hand steady on the wheel, and you swear your heart flipped clean over in your chest.

Now, you lean over the railing of the porch, holding out a cold bottle of beer. A peace offering. Or maybe just an excuse to keep her around a little longer.

Vi takes it with a soft huff, swiping the back of her hand across her damp forehead before twisting off the cap. "Thanks, sugar."

Her voice is a little rough, a little breathless, and it sends a spark straight through your bloodstream.

You watch as she tilts the bottle back, throat bobbing as she takes a sip—your eyes helplessly tracking the way a single droplet of sweat slides from her temple down the curve of her jaw.

And suddenly, you forget how to breathe.

"Are you hungry?" The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, blurting out in a rush of reckless impulse.

Vi lowers the bottle, her smirk slow and knowing as she tips her head. "Don’t wanna trouble ya', city girl."

Her voice is low, husky, damn near sinful, and you—God help you—have to press your thighs together, because how the hell is this woman the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen?

"It’s the least I can do, please." You nod toward the house, pushing the door open in silent invitation.

Vi takes her time stepping forward, letting her gaze drag over you in a way that feels deliberate.

And she’s doing her best not to stare at your ass too long—because, fuck.

Inside the house, you make your way to the kitchen, racking your brain for something—anything—you can throw together. Not like you’ve got much to work with. You’ve only been here a week, and your fridge is a sad excuse for a meal.

Behind you, Vi leans against the counter, the beer bottle dangling lazily from her fingers. She’s watching you—no, devouring you with her gaze—slow and deliberate, like she’s got all the time in the world.

You pretend not to notice. Or maybe you just don’t know how to function under the weight of her attention.

She shifts, brushing a few strands of hair from her face, and you let out an awkward chuckle, tugging open the fridge with a grimace.

"I, uh—I don’t really have much. I just moved in, and… grocery shopping…” Your words fumble over each other, and the sheer intensity of her gaze makes you regret speaking at all.

Vi waves you off with a slow flick of her wrist, stepping closer.

And that’s when you catch it—the faintest hint of her cologne beneath the scent of sweat and sun-warmed skin, the lingering trace of sawdust from working on that damned maple tree.

You swear your knees go weak.

"S’alright, hun," she murmurs, voice richer, huskier than before.

Your back presses against the counter, your pulse skittering as she closes the space between you.

The air shifts—thicker now, charged with something electric, something dangerous.

And suddenly, food is the last thing on your mind.

Vi moves in, slow and deliberate, until her arms cage you in against the counter, the scent of her—leather, sweat, a hint of cedar and smoke—wrapping around you like a trap you don’t want to escape.

Her gaze roves over you, heavy and smoldering, like she’s sizing up a meal she’s about to devour.

“Ain’t that hungry—least not for food.”

Her voice dips lower, like a secret meant just for you, like something sinful curling between your legs. Your breath shudders, your fingers gripping the countertop behind you as if that’ll keep you grounded.

She leans in, breath hot against the shell of your ear, and your knees damn near buckle.

"Wanna repay me another way?"

It’s not even a question—it’s a promise wrapped in velvet.

Your lips part, but words fail you. All you manage is a nod, shaky, desperate.

Vi tilts her head, a slow, knowing smirk playing at her lips. Her hands find your waist, calloused fingers curling into the soft skin beneath your sundress, sending a rush of fire through your veins.

And then—before you can even think to touch her—she grips beneath your thighs and hoists you onto the counter like you weigh nothing.

Your legs part, a breathless gasp slipping from your lips as she presses in close—solid, hot, the heat of her searing through thin fabric.

You lean back against the cabinet, exhaling a shaky sigh, your whole body thrumming with want, with anticipation.

And Vi—she just watches you, like she’s got all the time in the world.

Vi’s lips find your neck, warm and insistent, each kiss slow and deliberate, a teasing drag of softness against your skin. The heat of her breath lingers, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

You tip your head back instinctively, granting her better access, and she hums in approval, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your throat.

Her hands roam—rough fingertips skimming the curve of your waist, slipping beneath the thin fabric of your sundress with a slow, knowing touch. Your breath hitches, fingers clutching at her shoulders, a feeble attempt to ground yourself against the way she unravels you.

Then—her palms slide lower, brushing over the sensitive skin of your thighs, pushing your dress up inch by torturous inch.

Her fingertips graze over the damp fabric of your clothed cunt, and a shaky gasp tumbles from your lips, your thighs twitching at the featherlight contact.

Vi chuckles, low and deep, the sound rolling through you like a slow Southern drawl, thick and sinful.

“Oh, sugar,” she murmurs, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You’re drippin’ for me, ain’t ya?”

She grins against your skin, her voice sultry and smug, and all you can do is nod, breathless, aching, already at her mercy.

Vi presses one last, lingering kiss behind your ear before she sinks to her knees, slow and deliberate. The sight alone—her looking up at you, eyes dark and hungry, that damn smirk playing on her lips—has your grip tightening on the edge of the counter.

Her hands skate over your thighs, warm and teasing, pushing your dress higher, higher, until the cool air ghosts over your skin.

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, her fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, a mischievous glint flickering in those baby blues as she drags them down.

A soft gasp slips past your lips when her knuckles brush against your heated skin, and you barely catch the way she tucks your soiled panties into the back pocket of her jeans like a prize.

She doesn’t even try to hide her amusement, lips quirking as her thumb presses against your aching bundle of nerves—just enough pressure to make you tremble.

“Mmm, she’s screamin’ for me, sugar,” Vi drawls, her voice all honey and gravel, thick enough to drown in.

Your mouth parts, a protest, a plea—but before you can even think to speak, she leans in and drags her tongue in a slow, sinful stripe up your slit.

A breathless hiss escapes you, thighs twitching, and when she pulls back, her tongue flicks over her bottom lip, savoring.

“Delicious,” Vi hums, that cocky smirk only deepening.

A breathless moan tumbles from your lips as Vi leans in again, her tongue plunging between your folds—hungry, unapologetic, like she’s been starving for you all her life. The sensation is blinding, white-hot, and when your fingers thread into her hair, tugging at the soft strands, she hums against you, the vibration shooting straight through your core.

Her grip tightens around your thighs, keeping you right where she wants you—helpless, unraveling beneath her touch. Each flick of her tongue, every sinful suck against your aching clit, has you teetering on the edge, stars bursting behind your eyes.

“Vi—” Your voice is shaky, breath hitching as the coil in your belly winds tighter, tighter. “I-I’m gonna—”

She pulls back just enough, her lips glistening, pupils blown wide as she watches you fall apart. That smirk is there again, the one that makes your stomach dip.

“I know, sweet girl,” she murmurs, her voice thick and dripping with something wicked. Then, as if to seal your fate, she licks one slow, deliberate stripe up your pussy - from entrance to clit, savoring the taste, before whispering—

“Cum for me.”

And you do—helpless against the force of your own undoing. The coil inside you snaps with breathtaking intensity, pleasure crashing over you in waves so strong it leaves you gasping.

Vi doesn’t let up, doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath—her strong hands keep you steady, gripping your hips with enough force to hold you together as you shatter.

The kitchen is filled with the sounds of your pleasure—high, breathy moans mixing with the wet, obscene sounds of Vi’s tongue working you through it. You barely register the way she groans against you, drinking in every last bit of your release like it’s something sacred.

And when the aftershocks leave you trembling, thighs still twitching in her grasp, Vi finally pulls back—chin glistening, eyes dark with satisfaction.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and smirks up at you, voice thick as molasses when she drawls—

“Sweetest damn thing I ever tasted.”

[amraabed]

Hello everyone, I hope you see my message and you are in good health. My name is Amira, I am 55 years old from Gaza City. I was displaced to the south. We lost our home and our source of livelihood, and I lost a lot of my family in this fierce war. I suffered from the beginning of the war when I wake up. Every morning to wash the clothes on my hands and cook on the wood. My chest was damaged by the smoke of wood.

After 400 days of displacement,I suffer from a fracture and dislocation of the shoulder, and I suffer from cramps in the limbs, and I cannot practice my normal life because of my injury and the circumstances of the war. Please help me to travel and treatment abroad.

https://gofund.me/17f04245

https://gofund.me/ef1a4658

GOFUNDME LINK

@tamamita @tamarrud @vaporize-employers @buttercuparry @timetravellingkitty @appsa @applebunch @postanagramgenerator @shesnake @akajustmerry @maester-cressen @mar64ds

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

Hot take maybe but I think Bertie would be FAR more likely to survive the first two months of Dracula than Jeeves would be. Bertie has a healthy sense of self-preservation. Jeeves consistently underestimates how dangerous a situation might get (Steeple Bumpleigh, the club book) because he’s overconfident about his level of control over any given situation. He'd handle Dracula masterfully if they faced off in England, but on Dracula's home turf? Much more doubtful.

I realize this might be a tough sell, so I will explain further (or it's not a tough sell, and I'm going to explain further because I want to). (criteria taken from @canyourfavesurvivecastledracula) Without further ado.

Would Jeeves and Wooster survive Castle Dracula?

Jeeves

Jeeves' survival will depend on how long Dracula finds him more entertaining than irritating. On that basis, I don't think he's long for this world. On the one hand, he has a huge wealth of knowledge about English society and culture that he can recite perfectly from memory. That should buy him at least a little time with noted teaboo Dracula.

On the other hand, he would be absolutely no fun as a vampire plaything. Jeeves cannot be got. Sneaking up on him while he's shaving will yield zero reaction (though that's at least good for his short-term survival--given that, although he DID take the crucifix from the old woman out of politeness, he certainly isn't going to wear it. The rules of fashion don't go out the window just because you're in a spooky castle). Then, although managing the whims of rich jerks is not an insignificant part of a valet's job, Jeeves usually does this by bending his employers to his will. Dracula is not the sort of employer this will work on. It'll just add insult to injury when on top of being impossible to scare, NOW Jeeves is telling Dracula that his favorite cloak is several centuries out of fashion and he's not allowed to wear it anymore.

Jeeves will 100% go exploring in the areas he was told not to go-- though to be fair, he MIGHT actually get away with this, what with his superpower of appearing in rooms without being seen or heard. Said superpower might save him from the brides as well (though this is by no means guaranteed). Since I find it doubtful that Dracula would come to rescue his annoying ass, not being noticed is his best defense.

There are a couple other things working in Jeeves's favor; the question is just whether they'll be enough to save him.

He DOES know shorthand, and could try to send coded letters. He might even have the foresight to squirrel away some extra stationary where Dracula can't find it. But could he get them posted? Would it even do him any good?

He certainly has enough cultural literacy to figure out what his new boss is pretty quickly. If he didn't chuck the crucifix out the carriage window, he might start carrying it around in his pocket.

Psychology of the individual, sure, but the individual in question is a 400-year-old vampire who lives in an isolated castle in a foreign country and is regarded as a terrifying mythological figure in the surrounding villages. Jeeves has never come up against anything this alien before, he's cut off from his normal resources, and opportunities to play people against each other are limited.

He probably has enough upper body strength from all that shrimping and fishing to climb the wall, so he COULD escape if he wanted to, if he survived long enough. It's just, again, that overconfidence, and also Dracula has a vast library full of rare old books that are entirely at his disposal. He's keeping his eyes and ears alert for potential escape strategies, of course, but I don't see him being as desperate to get out as Jonathan was.

There are just a lot of "depends on"s here, and I'm not convinced that luck would shake out in Jeeves's favor, all things considered.

Bertie

Bertie is so perfect for the job of Castle Dracula Prisoner it's like it was made for him. Think about it. Being held against his will in big manor houses comes more naturally to him than breathing. He's afraid of things that are scary. A lifetime of dealing with Aunt Agatha has made him the world's preeminent expert in "curl[ing] up in a ball in the hope that a meek subservience [will] enable [him] to get off lightly." He will NEVER go exploring in places he's been warned away from if nobody is forcing him to (Rev. Aubrey Upjohn's office notwithstanding. There were biscuits in there). He's both fun to talk to and easy to toy with (and extremely English). A+ prisoner. Dracula adores him.

In my opinion, Bertie is at Castle Dracula either because Aunt Agatha got some wires seriously crossed and thinks he’s going to meet an eligible potential bride (I mean, there are certainly brides there), or because Dracula has something Aunt Dahlia wants him to steal (far less likely, given that one of Dracula’s THINGS is famously not owning anything silver). Either way, he's shown himself entirely willing and able to escape down drainpipes if a sitch gets too scaly.

He DOES take the crucifix, and DOES wear it (which is what will save him during the shaving scene, because you KNOW he's going to jump a foot and cut himself like the dickens). He's read enough supernatural goosefleshers to be genre savvy about terrified old women cryptically pushing crucifixes into one's hands. I also think his sunny disposish endeared him to the villagers, and they were particularly vehement about urging him not to go. He doesn't speak German or Romanian, but he's empathetic enough to recognize Pure Terror. So by the time he actually gets to the castle, his imagination is already running wild and he's plenty aware that he is in imminent danger.

I think the biggest risk to Bertie will be the brides; whether or not he's susceptible to trances, if he thinks they're trying to marry him, it's against the code of the Woosters to turn them down. But that only becomes an issue if he comes face to face with them, which, luckily, I think is unlikely on account of the aforementioned "won't go exploring" (and if he did, Dracula would definitely rescue him).

I'm inclined to say due to his drainpipe-escape habits that he WOULD be able to climb the wall and MAY attempt to sneak into Dracula's room to look for the keys if his desperation grows to outweigh his fear. Whether he does or not, though, he does NOT have the stomach to attempt shovel murder, and therefore won't get magic brain fever, and may very well simply walk out the front doors when the people come to take the boxes away. OR he climbs his way out like Jonathan did. Either way.

When Bertie tells this story at the Drones later, Tuppy will say that no doubt it's been greatly exaggerated and all that probably happened was that he spent a couple months in an oldish house entertaining a weird loner.

[ghostboyravenight]

@noor0 has reached out to me about her campaign, and we’ve talked for a bit about how it’s not doing well at the moment. She is halfway to her goal, but with Israel’s ground offensive getting more and more violent since the proposed ceasefire deal, it is urgent that she reaches enough to save her family.

She has three children:

Hussein is 6 years old.

Rajaa is 5 years old.

And Youssef is only 10 months old, and cannot be breastfed properly due to lack of nutrition.

They have been displaced multiple times before and currently do not have a stable home. Her children are suffering from illness and malnutrition, like so many Gazan children are. Hundreds have already died from starvation in the last few days, and thousands more are expected to die from lack of aid being brought into Gaza. Nour is desperate to raise funds so that she can rebuild their lives and protect her children’s future.

So far they have raised €25,000 and considering flour now costs upwards of €400 in Gaza, this is not enough funds in the long term. Any donation will help, and if you are unable to donate, please share this around to reach as many people as possible.

I have fully vetted the campaign, and it has also been vetted by @90-ghost here, and is #245 on @gazavetters ’s list of vetted GFMs ✅

[thejewishninja]

Okay. So. I read Wings of Starlight and loved it but no one else I know has read it because it’s sold out everywhere. But I need to go crazy and scream about it so Here are my Emotionally Charged Thoughts. Spoilers for Secret of the Wings but not necessarily the book.

AHHHHJSIDISODOOF DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG CLARION AND MILORI WERE APART!!!!!! CLARION IS 400 YEARS OLD IN THE TINKERBELL FRANCHISE!!!! *GNAWS DRYWALL WITH BARE TEETH* THIS IS A YA NOVEL AND BOTH OF THEM ARE YOUNG, PROBABLY IN THE 18-20 AGE RANGE. WHICH MEANS IT WAS 380 YEARS THEY HAD TO WAIT TO BE TOGETHER AGAIN. *PUNCHES CEMENT BLOCKS* THREE HUNDRED EIGHTY YEARS!!!! CAN YOU IMAGINE KNOWING THE PERSON YOU LOVE IS NOT VERY FAR AWAY FROM YOU BUT YOU CAN NEVER SEE THEM? NEVER TOUCH THEM OR HOLD THEM?? YOU CAN SEE THEIR HOME FROM AFAR RIGHT OUTSIDE YOUR WINDOW EVERY NIGHT AND YOU KNOW THEY ARE ALIVE AND WELL BUT YOU CAN NEVER BE WITH EACH OTHER?? *FISTFIGHTS THE OCEAN* OR IF THEY DID SEE EACH OTHER, IT CLEARLY MUST HAVE BEEN IN A SIMPLY FORMAL SENSE. CAN YOU IMAGINE SEEING THE PERSON YOU LOVE IN ESSENTIALLY A ONCE A YEAR BUSINESS MEETING FOR 380 YEARS STRAIGHT AND YOU CAN DO NOTHING MORE THAN STARE AT THEM LONGINGLY WHILE RETAINING A PURELY PROFESSIONAL DEMEANOR BECAUSE NO ONE CAN KNOW YOU TWO WERE FORMERLY SECRETLY INVOLVED?  *EATS GRAVEL* HDKFJSKDJFKSJ JAJFKSJDJFEJJ

Yeah I simply couldn’t do it. 

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 20: The One Where We Take a Course in Rear Window Ethics

Oh, hey, hey – you’re back!

Yes. I, uh – we need to – uh... What the hell are you doing with that Exakta VX camera fitted with a 400 mm Kilfitt lens?

Come here. See those open windows across the courtyard?

Uh, yeah…

Well, I’m trying to zoom into that apartment –

Wow. Because that’s not creepy as fuck.

Oh, don’t be so modern. This is New York City, 1954. It’s fine.

Yeah, okay. I need you to focus for a moment. Seriously – put down the zoom lens. Headquarters called and wanted to know why Dorothy was still in Oz. You know we were told to take her home.

No – actually we were told to throw stones at that wannabe Wizard. And we did. Kind of. Okay, whatever, but surely you can feel the shift. At the very least we’ve infiltrated the base camp with a bunch of flying monkeys. They’ll take care of the rest. God, there’s one in there –

And we were supposed to help Dorothy find her way back home.

Meh, don’t worry about Dorothy. I don’t think she’s ready to go home. Even after the ping-pong bullshit of the past few weeks, she’s still standing on her own two feet. Although Toto continues to be a mild pain…

But –

But nothing. Dorothy’s had the power to get her own ass home this entire time. When’s she’s ready, she’ll go.

Okay, well, obviously you’re not going to be of any help as you seem preoccupied with spying on your neighbors. So, I’m going to need to borrow the hot air balloon. Where’d you put it?

Oh, it’s on the—wait! If you take our balloon, how am I supposed to get around? I’m not staying here indefinitely. There’s no air conditioning in this damn apartment!

How about I promise to come back for you? Maybe.

Damn you. Fine, I’ll go with you. Let me get my shit together. Here, hold my camera – and don’t drop it!

Hmph, this is heavy. How does it work? I just look through this and… <points camera towards apartment across the way> Oh – this is interesting. What the hell did you say was going on over there? “…[S]tart from the beginning…Tell me everything you saw – and what you think it means.”

You know those days when you have no choice but to catch up on the work you’ve been blowing off for the past few days (maybe even weeks)? Well, last week, I was having one of those days. The work I’d been pushing down my list for weeks finally needed to be addressed. Regardless of how mind-numbing it was, it had to get done otherwise things were going to start going awry.

I’m one of those people who – when working on the mundane – has a mind that tends to wander every few minutes or so. I find myself Googling things like, “What is the fastest animal on the planet?” And, for your own Useless Knowledge, the cheetah’s land speed of 60+ mph doesn’t come close to the peregrine falcon’s dive bomb of 240+ mph.

Anyway, to keep my mind from wandering, I usually have something running in the background to force my brain into paying attention to two things at once – somehow that helps me maintain focus. The most popular “something” is almost always one of the many (quite possibly too many) British detective shows available for streaming. But, the other day, I simply wasn’t in the mood to rewatch Season 3 of “Dalgliesh” for the seventh time.

So, after a bit of scrolling, I put on an old movie I hadn’t seen in years: “Rear Window.”

The 1954 original, of course.

I’m rarely impressed by anything put out by Modern Hollywood, but the old shit – well, there are some legit classics out there, including this one.

One of the reasons I’ve always been fond of this movie is because you go into it knowing the “bad guy” right from the word “go.” I’m one of those extremely annoying people who can guess the villain within the first few chapters of a book, or within the first twenty or so minutes of a movie (like I said, I am rarely impressed by Hollywood). However, I will admit, one book did slip by me. Damn you, Agatha Christie. Honestly, though, the thrill I felt with being wrong was far more memorable than anything I’ve ever felt with being right. Good or bad, a surprise always leaves its imprint, doesn’t it? Plus, the hysterical elation my father must have felt – and later exhibited – knowing I was going into the final few chapters wrong – well, damn him, too. And, no, the book was not “Three Act Tragedy.” That one was quite easy.

Okay, enough about Ms. Christie. Back to Mr. Hitchcock.

As I sat busily typing away and listening to the dialogue of “Rear Window” playing in the far reaches of my office, it suddenly occurred to me that the parallels between “Rear Window” and the Lukola fandom were rather, well, thought-provoking. Here we have a man (and later his sidekicks) peering into the personal life of another human being. Our protagonist in “Rear Window” witnesses an event (a cover-up, actually) and sets out to prove it – all from the perspective of an onlooker looking in. Sound familiar? I thought it might.

So, welcome to your course on “Rear Window Ethics.”

Now, I cannot intertwine “Rear Window” with the Lukola fandom without dragging your ass into the story. Actually, I could – but it’s far more entertaining for me (and hopefully you) if I form a nexus between you and the movie.

Therefore, you, of course, get to align yourself with L.B. Jefferies (played in real life by Jimmy Stewart). If you’re still in this fandom, it’s because you’ve witnessed something you simply cannot ignore and you’re almost certainly hellbent on proving it at this point.

It’s very likely most of you entered the Lukola fandom alone. You watched some portion of the World Tour and became intrigued. Your mind began to wander, which sparked some urge in you to do some digging. Eventually your investigation led you to the Devil – sorry, I mean, social media. There you met like-minded junior investigators, and you’ve now found yourself chatting with these newfound friends and theorizing in the burrows of underground group chats.

So, about your sidekicks…

The part of “Stell-aaaaaa!!!!” (yes, that is my hat-tip to Jake) is given to your most “inventive” Lukola friend. You know, the one that has their own “theories” channel in your private chats; the one who scurries down the rabbit hole – not in search of the White Rabbit – but in search of the Cheshire Cat. Stella is the reason you think outside the box. In “Rear Window,” Stella (played by Thelma Ritter) is Jefferies’ nurse (Jefferies is injured and bound to his apartment; hence why he has so much free time to gaze out the rear window). This friend will throw anything and everything against the wall to see what sticks – even if it occasionally takes a deep-dive into how to cut up a body in a bathtub.

Next, we have Detective Doyle, Jefferies’ long-time friend (played by Wendell Corey). Doyle is quite possibly your spouse, haha, or anyone who side-eyes your involvement with this fandom. Doyle half listens to Jefferies’ theories and usually counters Jefferies with an alternative piece of evidence. But don’t fret, although Doyle teases Jefferies about his wild theories throughout the film, Doyle is, in fact, supportive of Jefferies and does comes around in the end.

I’m going to switch gears for a moment but not before acknowledging that, yes, I am aware I’m missing a player here. Don’t worry – she will arrive shortly.

Alright, on to our subject matter: Lars Thorwald.

Thorwald (played by Raymond Burr) is our straight-outta-Hitchcock-baddie who has been spotted by Jefferies trying to cover up the murder of his wife. The obvious parallels I’m going to draw between “Rear Window” and the Lukola fandom are (1) Thorwald’s crime being equivalent to the World Tour and everything that has happened thereafter, and (2) Jefferies’ obsession with proving Thorwald is guilty being comparable to the fandom’s obsession with proving Lukola is real.

Now, I’m going to get the ball rolling by fast-forwarding through the World Tour all the way up to where I last left you – the post-release of “Mis-Directed.” Recall that shortly before the book’s release, in a surprise turn of events, Luke appeared with Antonia at the Boss event held January 30. However, this was almost immediately negated by Luke snubbing Antonia post-event (and perhaps even more shockingly, Antonia’s mirrored lack of acknowledgement of Luke). And try as Nicola might, there’s no skirting around the innuendo made throughout that fan-fic of a book.

“Watson! Get up! There’s fuckery afoot!”

Who the hell are you?

I’m Dad. Who are you?

Ah, not that guy!

Yes, that guy. Of course, Dad has entered the room. After all I needed someone to fill the role of Lisa Fremont (also known as Grace Kelly). Lisa is your Lukola friend with the highest degree of common sense. She takes the “evidence” presented and looks at it with some realism. She is never going to take the Dwight Shrute Route and state something as “Fact,” but she is the one you rely on to delineate between what makes sense and what doesn’t. In short, this is your friend who understands human nature.

Alright, before I really get this ball rolling –

Since I’ve now added a third wheel (Dad) to the back-and-forth dialogue of my two wizard-chasing-balloon-riding-time-traveling-narrators, I suppose I should also give these two imbeciles names.

You first.

Uh, well, I’m Charley and that’s –

I’m Crowd.

Full credit for these two make-believe idiots is given to my dad. He created the personas of “Charley and the Crowd” for my two nieces a few years ago. They would show him their dolls and my dad would narrate what was going on in their stories. Of course, my nieces regularly corrected him with, “No, Papá, that is not what Barbie is doing!” Still, Charley and the Crowd stuck around, playing the role of two, usually counter-productive and sometimes ignored, news anchors at a Macy’s Day Parade-like event hosted by my nieces’ massive collection of L.O.L. Dolls.

And just for clarity’s sake, during the dialogue between Charley, Crowd, and Dad, actual statements made by Dad will be in quotations. Any statement not in quotations was added simply to move the story along.

Let’s begin (finally).

In “Rear Window,” every time Jefferies and his sidekicks present their findings to Detective Doyle attempting to prove Thorwald’s guilt, they are thwarted by evidence discovered by Doyle’s investigation. It’s a constant back-and-forth throughout the movie; however, regardless of how “solid” Doyle’s evidence is that Anna Thorwald is still alive, Jefferies remains sat on the hill that Thorwald killed his wife. It was this parallel – not the peeping Tom aspect of the movie – that piqued my interest last week. No matter what was thrown at him, Jefferies remained steadfast in his opinion Thorwald murdered his wife. Nothing budged him. I realized Jefferies’ level of resilience mirrored every diehard Lukola’s reaction to every piece of contradictory evidence thrown at them. Nothing budges them.

The tail-end of January and all of February was a bit wild in the Lukola fandom. I mean, there were a lot of narratives being thrown around only to be counteracted by another event. As I mentioned earlier, we ended January with the Boss event but that flame was quickly extinguished by Luke and Antonia’s complete lack of follow-up. Luke had the perfect opportunity to make it “official” with Antonia – to finally shut down the Lukola shippers – but he didn’t.

Crowd: Antonia not doing anything with it is the biggest tell, in my opinion.

I’m not going to spend much time rehashing the Boss event because I already discussed it in Entry 18 (link below), but I will touch on two things that I believe deserve an Honorable Mention.

The first being –

Charley: Why didn’t Antonia have her phone or even a handbag at the Boss event?

I mention this little detail because it was echoed at the BAFTA afterparty Luke attended with Antonia on February 16. In fact, I suspect this may be the modus operandi when Antonia attends an event with Luke – she is not given the opportunity to have a phone with her. One would think, at the very least, you would see Antonia entering and/or leaving an event with some kind of handbag or clutch. But we have pictures of Antonia entering both the Boss event and BAFTA afterparty without one. I will acknowledge we don’t see her leave these two events; however, if we rewind time, Antonia does not have a handbag with her during Papsmear.

Dad: “Well, that’s extremely odd.”

I don’t believe I’ve mentioned it before – at least not on this blog – that my dad has an eye for women’s fashion. My sisters and I grew up under his critical eye and, to this day, my father doesn’t know where he went wrong with my older sister. This is entirely why he was given the part of Lisa Fremont, the movie’s style icon in the form of Grace Kelly. The fact that Antonia is never seen with any type of handbag at these events sparked his interest.

Dad: “[It seems] they [at a minimum Luke] wanted complete control [of what Antonia could take away from the event]. No handbag. Nowhere to hide a phone. No rogue pictures floating about.”

Charley: Yes, it does seem that way.

The second event I wanted to mention was – although neither Luke nor Antonia liked the Boss grid post of the two of them entering that event together – Nicola did. Now, this wasn’t an immediate like. In fact, Nicola waited almost two weeks to like the post, on February 12.

Crowd: The day before Nicola went back and liked that post, that video was being dissected across social media.

Dad: Why?

Charley: Because it was suggested Luke said, “Let’s get this done,” as he walked inside the event with Antonia.

Dad: “I don’t hear shit.”

I will admit, when this video was initially sent to me, I didn’t hear anything except the background noise. However, when I was told what was allegedly being said, I was able to hear it. This very well could be the power of suggestion but the timing of Nicola’s like on this post is, at a minimum, noteworthy.

Once we leave the Boss event, we stumble right into “Mis-Directed.” I’ll post the links to my review of that book at the end. It is what it is – and it’s a whole lot of…umm, yeah…maybe Dad said it best.

Dad: “Either your Lukola thing is real, or Ireland is a psychopath.”

Crowd: Seriously, who let this guy in here?

I’m going to have to hard agree with my dad on this one. Not necessarily about Nicola being a “psychopath,” but the references made in the book are too on the nose for it not to be intentionally Lukola- and/or Polin-coded.

I’m also convinced this book was edited after the World Tour, with the most obvious example of this being demonstrated with the quote: “The dates here coincided with the time period of Leicester Square… Below the words was a symbol of a V-shaped flying dove. At first glimpse, it strongly resembled two raised fingers.” If our duo is to be believed, Luke and Nicola had no idea prior to the World Tour that the fandom would go wild over Colin’s fingers. But after the release of Part 1, any mention of “two raised fingers” would send the fandom into a feeding frenzy. And it’s such an extremely random bit of innuendo, I have trouble believing the author came up with it on her own.

Charley: When you think about it, if Antonia hadn’t shown up at the Boss event, the Lukola fandom would have taken the book as confirmation that Lukola was real.

Indeed, a hefty portion of the fandom would have done just that. The fandom was already convinced that Luke and Nicola spent the holidays together – even without direct evidence – because there was evidence that Luke and Nicola did not spend the holidays with Antonia and Jake, respectively.

Antonia appeared to be with family at Christmas and in the Maldives over New Year’s – without making even the slightest insinuation that Luke was with her.

Jake seemingly spent the holidays with Dylan B., as demonstrated by his pre-Christmas stories with Dylan in their (basically) adjacent hometowns – without Nicola, who, by her own account, was in Galway. Jake and Dylan’s Christmas stories were followed up with their jointly hosted New Year’s Eve party – at which Nicola was not present (as evidenced by Nicola’s comment to an attendee’s New Year’s Eve post: “Have the best night miss yous”).

Dad: “It is weird they [Nicola and Jake / Luke and Antonia] wouldn’t spend any of the holidays together. One? Sure, maybe. But all? No.”

But, even with that statement, my dad chose to play the role of Detective Doyle (a/k/a the Devil’s Advocate of “Rear Window”) regarding the holidays because –

Dad: “Misty [Antonia] was with her dance troupe. Jake was with his friends. Ireland was doing her thing. But no one knows where Thang [Luke] was. Everyone else has a trail except him, which is odd. He could have been with Ireland, but you can’t prove it, so what you have is not really evidence.”

Charley: Thanks, Dad.

But, let’s face it, my dad is right. There’s no solid evidence that Luke and Nicola spent their holidays with each other or anyone else. You can apply the same theory to the birthdays. The only “evidence” we have that two people did not spend a birthday together was Jake posting a belated birthday greeting to Nicola followed by Nicola posting what appeared to be an intimate birthday dinner for two, presumably from the night before. We can surmise Nicola’s birthday date was not Jake, otherwise he would not have posted the late greeting.

About Jake’s birthday –

Crowd: Oh, yeah, “hard launch No. 54” because Nicola used a red heart in her birthday story to him.

Charley: You mean the same one she used in a story for another friend just the other day?

Crowed: Yep.

Dad: “I don’t know what to say about those people [the Jakolas]. They need to resubmerge or something. There’s no relationship there [between Jake and Nicola].”

The Jakolas are banking this “hard launch” on the fact Nicola posted a birthday story for Jake, but not for Luke, and vice versa. These are the same people who will argue that Luke and Antonia not posting about each other’s birthdays is because they’re private – but, in the same breath, refuse to acknowledge Luke and Nicola may not post about each other’s birthdays because they’re private.

I believe it’s worth mentioning that no one from the Bridgerton cast except James Phoon posted about Nicola’s birthday on January 9. When Nicola acknowledged her birthday greetings the day after, she did not repost Phoon’s story nor did she repost fan-favorite JVN’s birthday story. And I should have placed bets on this next part – no one from the Bridgerton cast posted about Luke’s birthday on February 5. Surely, I’m not the only person who saw – and anticipated – the comraderie there.

What the Jakolas should have been focusing on with Jake’s birthday was the fact that it was Dylan and Becky’s boyfriend that were wearing matching “Jecky” shirts at their joint birthday party. No one else had that shirt except for the two people believed to be their significant others. Although I’m not fully convinced Jake is dating Dylan, I am one hundred percent convinced Jake would date Dylan over Nicola.

Charley: What’s next?

Crowd: God, there was so much shit going on in February! Uhh, let’s jump to Valentine’s Day. Nicola attended the IFTA’s with her mother and sister, and Luke attended a GQ dinner event alone.

This holiday follows in the same vein as the previously noted holidays, except it’s Nicola and (amazingly!) Luke that are both accounted for. Jake was presumed to be in Sheffield rehearsing for his play; and Antonia was nowhere to be found, not even at the GQ dinner.

However, Antonia does make a brief reappearance at a BAFTA afterparty alongside Luke on February 16.

Crowd: But it was a repeat of the Boss event. The next day, neither acknowledged the other.

Charley: And Luke was reported to have left the party after only an hour – without Antonia. He even posted a picture of himself getting into a car alone.

Dad: To me, “[i]t seems like Thang took his dog [Antonia] for a walk and left her at the dog park.”

Two days later, Luke – actually out for a walk – is papped getting coffee, alone. Is it horrible of me to say that the most exciting thing about these pictures was the untucked versus tucked shirt? I’m not even sure why I’m taking the time to mention this except I felt there would be some side-eye if I did not.

And to be honest, I’ve left out some details and minor events from the months of January and February because, if I were to add them, this post would be twice as long as it already is. For example, don’t get me started on sunburns, tan lines, and “sunny places.”

If we were in the movie, “Rear Window,” everything stated up until this point would run parallel to the back-and-forth between Detective Doyle and our Trio of Peeping Toms. Evidence is presented by the Trio, which is then countered by Doyle. Doyle’s evidence is dismissed by the Trio because, again, they’re hellbent on proving their case, so they continue theorizing and digging into Thorwald. All that leads up to the movie’s climax.

Charley: Have we finally made it to the SAG?

Crowd: Yes, yes, we have.

Charley: Dad – Dad – wake up!

Dad: Huh?

Alright, the fucking SAG awards. This would be about the point in “Rear Window” where Lisa gets caught by Thorwald rifling through his belongings in search of evidence. We’re in the audience biting our nails because Jefferies can’t do a damn thing to help Lisa except watch everything unfold. And that’s what we did with the SAG awards. The entire Lukola fandom was hyper-focused on Luke and Nicola – and they did not disappoint.

Forget all the drama we endured from the sideshow characters and the nonsense that came with them.

Forget Luke being AWOL for six months.

Forget everything except the “hug heard ‘round the world.”

The ice was broken; the champagne was flowing. Luke and Nicola’s joint SAG appearance was like the World Tour on steroids.

Dad: Can I say something?

Crowd: Fuck. What?

Dad: “It was their season, right? So, their joint appearance on the red carpet wasn’t earth shattering. Neither was them sitting together. It was their night to celebrate.”

Crowd: Who invited this wet blanket to the party?

Dad: I wasn’t done. “Their season has run its course, right? They’ve ‘graduated.’ So why are they the focus of mainstream media?”

Charley: <thinking> Because there’s something newsworthy there?

That is your climax. Not their SAG appearance – because everyone can have their own interpretation of Luke and Nicola’s behavior and those interviewers’ Q&A’s – it was the mainstream media going ga-ga over Luke and Nicola that sent the Lukola narrative tumbling out the window. If you’ve seen the movie, you’ll understand that reference.

By the following day, Luke and Nicola were everywhere. I genuinely appreciate the “Librarians” of the private group chats – those people who track and record every single post, story, like, non-like, follow, unfollow, literally everything – their job was grueling last week. The Sincerely Ignorant Lukolas who jumped ship months ago were frantically trying to climb back on board, while the Jakolas were desperately trying to find their Dramamine. The Defectors went silent except to remind their hive of hornets not to worry; that they will get “a reminder soon…”

Charley: A reminder of what?

Crowd: Oh, that there are two side characters floating about.

Well, lo and behold – right on schedule – a random picture of Luke and Antonia in an elevator surfaced the day after the SAG awards. The problem with the picture was that it was dismissed by Lukolas almost immediately. The account that dropped the picture on X was suspicious. Antonia’s hair and clothing seemed “so last year.” The Lukolas were far more focused on Luke and Nicola liking anything and everything to do with the SAG that day than to pay any attention to the “same old song and dance” about Antonia. Even Nicola liking Jake’s very bland “Nicola” comment on her grid post was dismissed with a “shooing” wave of the hand and an uninterested half laugh.

On February 25, the “insinuation” pictures were at it again. In fact, it was a rather busy day. An event host posted a picture of what appeared to be Antonia perfectly centered at an L.A. hotel pool. The story was reposted by the hotel itself. In fact, that’s the only reason the picture was found by the fandom. A new elevator picture of Luke and Antonia dropped; however, it, too, was dismissed fairly quickly, regardless of it being dropped by a different, less dubious X account. The Lukolas just didn’t give a fuck about Antonia. Luke was the subject of a blind that insinuated he had spent most of his time at the SAG looking in a mirror. And the evening was rounded out by something that would have rocked the boat in June 2024 but had little effect in February 2025 – Nicola followed Antonia on Instagram and vice versa!

Oh, shit – Jefferies just lost his grip and fell out the “Rear Window.” But he didn’t die! So, that’s a plus.

The following day, February 26, Antonia started to remove tags from her Instagram account including the “Soho” New Year's 2024 picture of Luke and his friend group, which included Antonia. And Nicola responded to the “mirror” blind about Luke with “I can confirm this is 100% not true [laughing/crying emoji].” So, interestingly, we had Antonia backing further away from Luke and Nicola stepping up to defend him.

Crowd: So, where do we go from here?

That’s a good question. The thing I’ve learned through this “course” is that the Lukolas are now unmoved by the shenanigans happening around them. You can serve Antonia to them on a silver platter, and they’ll flag down the waiter and ask them to return her to the kitchen. And you won’t find Jake anywhere on their menu (hence why I didn’t even bother to mention Jake’s play).

Dad: I think “the whole thing has run its course.”

It really has. The Lukolas are tired but unyielding. At this point, they just want their version of Thorwald to confess. The narratives running parallel to each other (i.e., Lukola vs. Jakola vs. Lutonia) can’t go on much longer. One of them is going to crack under the pressure.

Remember, “Three can keep a secret…”

P.S.

Dad: “Is Ireland still wearing that ring?”

Me: Yes.

Dad: “Then why did you call me?”

Me: <deep sigh>

[see-arcane]

You know, I think what "Schreck" in Shadow of the Vampire talks about when he drunkenly brings up why Dracula made him sad should be the elements adaptations that want to make the Count more sympathetic/tragic should focus on.

Max Schreck: Dracula hasn't had servants in 400 years and then a man comes to his ancestral home, and he must convince him that he... that he is like the man. He has to feed him, when he himself hasn't eaten food in centuries. Can he even remember how to buy bread? How to select cheese and wine? And then he remembers the rest of it. How to prepare a meal, how to make a bed. He remembers his first glory, his armies, his retainers, and what he is reduced to. The loneliest part of the book comes... when the man accidentally sees Dracula setting his table

Absolutely. And on the subject, there really are a lot of ways to highlight flashes of humanity or allow sympathy for Dracula that don't just whittle down to 'Oh I Want Reincarnated Wifey So Bad :'(.'

He was a great warlord, feared, respected, ruthless, relentless.

He was an active polymath of alchemy, sorcery, and occult lessons taught beneath a mountain by impossible infernal tutors.

He was a conqueror who made a bargain to conquer even Death.

He was. He was. He was.

But what is he now?

An old dragon who lets his captured maidens mock him when he snarls and brings their meals. A withered cadaver who, through restraint or simple ennui, has allowed himself to go hungry for who knows how long, pacing around the ruin that was once a castle. A dormant monster grown bored of baring his teeth at the quaking chattel who are now all but too wrung out to feed upon.

Van Helsing puts a lot of weight on the implication that Dracula has been planning the 'first England, then the world!' scheme for centuries, but...I can't buy that. It doesn't take that long to go house shopping or even to grasp another language. I don't think England was even that much of a vital prize in the old bat bastard's eyes.

But conquest is a thing he knows. A thing that made him happy once upon a time, when he was a man. If he conquers that nation, if he eats the world after it, surely he will be happy again. He will not weep like Alexander. He will rule! He will be powerful! He will be happy! There will have been a point to all of this after all..!

All this plays behind his bloodstain eyes as he stares into the fire.

"...The warlike days are over. Blood is too precious a thing in these days of dishonourable peace; and the glories of the great races are as a tale that is told.”