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antimonyandthyme · 21 hours ago

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WHAT IF CARCAR REALLY HAD MAGNETS BETWEEN THEM

/or a stuck together au

“It’s like Eat Pray Love,” Carlos says.

“I’ll be honest,” Guanyu says. “Neither of you remind me of Julia Roberts much.”

“Please just,” Oscar massages the bridge of his nose, “point to a place on the map. Any place.”

“Why China,” Guanyu presses. Of course he’s curious. “Why not Spain or Australia?”

“Neutral ground,” Oscar says quickly.

“Ah I see,” Guanyu says. “You can’t agree on a spot, right?”

“I keep telling him,” Carlos says, always with the over-the-top gesticulating. He tries it with both hands first, then realizes Oscar’s being all sorts of petty and weighing his left arm down on purpose where they’re joined, so he continues gesturing eagerly with his right. “Come to Madrid!” He nearly smacks Oscar in the nose with his hand. Oscar scowls. “We have so much good food. I can show you all the things, but no! Piastri will only agree to get sunburned on Australian sand. We have beaches in Spain, too!”

“Guanyu,” Oscar urges, “a place, now.”

“Here,” Guanyu says, index finger plopping down. Like some cartoon scene, both Oscar and Carlos automatically lean in to squint at the map, and bump their heads against each other.

“I hate you.”

“Hard same.”

“Lijiang is actually a famous honeymoon destination,” Guanyu says.

“I hate you,” Carlos says.

“Hard same,” Oscar says.

“Hey.” Guanyu grins like this entire situation is wildly hilarious. Maybe it is, for everyone else. Oscar kinda wants to jump into the sea, but Carlos will only drag him down, their uncoordinated conjoined limbs tangled and thrashing. “You guys asked me to choose. Look, don’t you want to see pandas?”

Carlos makes some sort of shocked noise. Oh, for the love of—Oscar groans. He knows when someone’s just bought something.

“Carlos wants to see pandas,” Guanyu says, sounding far too delighted. “Chengdu’s like a fourteen-hour drive from Lijiang, that’s totally doable.”

They stare at him blankly.

“Oh my god. Chengdu, you know? Research base for giant panda breeding? Panda capital of China?”

Twiddle-Dum and Twiddle-Dee: “Ohhhhh.”

“Yeah, now you got it. In between, you can hit a dozen other places and never grow bored.” Guanyu taps his finger along the map, tick, tick, tick. “So why not? Complete the journey. Transform into Julia Roberts.”

“And break the curse,” Carlos says solemnly.

“Break the curse,” Oscar repeats miserably, but with his left hand, goes to look up flight tickets on his phone.

They discover that the only way they can pull on extra layers is if they yank themselves apart with all their might, creating just a sliver of space between their elbows. It’s painful. Oscar never wants to have to do this again.

“Now,” Carlos yells, and in a flurry of movement Oscar gets his coat on before their elbows snap back together.

Ow, ow. Oscar’s eyes are watering. He suspects Carlos’s is doing just the same.

“Okay, okay,” Oscar says. “Now your turn.”

Carlos waves him off. “I’m not cold.”

Oscar opens his mouth to argue, but Carlos is already dragging them off toward a sign with a car on it. The rental cars are left-hand steering, and it dawns on both of them at the exact time that Oscar will be doing all the driving, with the way they’re stuck to each other.

“No fair,” Carlos moans, as Oscar fist pumps the air. It would be too childish to stick his tongue out at Carlos. So he doesn’t.

A part of Oscar’s a spectator to all of this. Watching with his mouth hanging wide open, some disembodied shade looking from outside in, as his own body purchased tickets, packed a luggage (with Carlos in the same room), and boarded a plane. None of this makes sense. Getting into a car with Carlos, firstly. Then with the added condition that both of them have to clamber in from one side, before Carlos can climb over the middle console into the passenger seat. Fourteen hours of this, huh? He’s going to give Guanyu hell when they get back.

If, they make it back. Oscar guesses it’ll be two hours before they attempt to murder each other. You don’t go road tripping with people you can’t stand. It’s the one and only sacred rule of road tripping.

“I think I saw this in Final Destination.”

Oscar, zoned out staring at the road, manages a stupid, “What?”

“You know that pileup where everyone dies?”

“Everyone always dies in Final Destination.”

Carlos rolls his eyes, shakes their joined elbows for emphasis. “The scene where the logs fall off? A lot of screaming? A lot of swerving? All because they were stuck behind a logging truck?”

“Carlos.” Oscar takes one deep, deep calming breath. “Are you asking me to overtake?”

“If you can, yes,” Carlos says, like Oscar’s the one being thick. “Go on. I’ll help you hold the wheel steady.”

Oscar cranes his neck and glances around the side of the truck. The opposing lane seems clear, not a headlight in sight. What the heck. You can take the driver off a track, but he’ll still want to race.

“Woo!” Carlos yells, as Oscar zooms around the steadily plodding truck. A little clumsy, with Carlos almost overcompensating the steer as they merge back into the right lane, but successful, nonetheless. No one dies.

Mismatched hands on the wheel. Adrenaline spiking for just a few seconds of speed. Oscar finds himself wearing a grin to match Carlos’s. Maybe they’ll cut it down to thirteen and a half hours like this.

“Guanyu was right,” Carlos says thoughtfully.

Oscar’s got his nose buried in a helpful English guide. A sense of ambitious adventure appears to have overtaken them. He wants to hit at least three lookout points today. “About?”

“Look,” Carlos points in some vague direction. “All the couples.”

“Huh,” Oscar says. “That is a lot of couples.”

No one pays them any mind. They haven’t been recognized since they stepped foot here. For all intents and purposes, they could just be another one of those peaceful couples, milling about.

Well. Peaceful, would be a bit of a pipe dream.

“YOU CAN PLAY GOLF AT JADE DRAGON SNOW MOUNTAIN.”

“Carlos,” Oscar hisses. “Quiet.”

“You can play golf,” Carlos repeats, softer but no less excited, eyes larger than two sparkling coins, “at Jade Dragon Snow Mountain!”

Oscar snatches the guide back from Carlos’s hand. “I’m pretty sure I just read that the mountain’s considered holy.”

“They let people play golf on a holy mountain,” Carlos says for the third damn time. “I love it here.”

“We’re not playing golf,” Oscar says.

“Oscar,” Carlos says, dismayed.

“You have one hand, remember?” Oscar wriggles their stuck arms, a reminder he didn’t even know Carlos would have needed.

“Riiight,” Carlos says, shoulders drooping.

“We can still see the mountain though,” Oscar says, is alarmed at the tiny skip-hop going on in his chest when Carlos brightens again. Doesn’t take a lot to keep this guy happy. That’s, good for him. That’s good.

They decide the cable cars up are too much hassle, with the queues already stretching out for hours. The mountain’s basically viewable from anywhere, so Oscar steers Carlos toward Old Town. Where he discovers that Carlos is terrible at haggling. Absolute nightmare. He hands over money to anyone who so much as gestures him over. The singular tote bag Oscar brings starts to get filled with random trinkets, from fans to calligraphy pens.

“What’s this,” Oscar says, when Carlos shakes his head as Oscar prepares to pack away two wooden charms in the shape of a very rotund cat.

“Not for keeping,” Carlos explains. “They’re for wishes. We hang them up in the temple.”

“Oh,” Oscar says. Carlos had gotten one for him too. “I didn’t think you believed in these things.”

“I don’t,” Carlos says quickly, before looking away, like he’s afraid Oscar will laugh at him.

Oscar chews at his lip. He didn’t mean to suggest it was silly. It’s a little unfair for Carlos to think so lowly of him. If they could, this is where they’d walk their separate ways and browse different shops, long enough for the awkward tension to diffuse. Come back refreshed and recharged for more time spent in each other’s company. No such grace, here.

The stream whispers as it flows by the stone-paved path. The wooden house clusters look as if they’re linked, hand to hand, a never-ending line all the way to the top. Everything here’s older than Oscar, older by years and years and years.

“I keep an amulet in my helmet,” Carlos says. His eyes wander around like he’s sightseeing. “I don’t know why I lied.”

“A little belief can’t hurt,” Oscar blurts out, just so Carlos would stop looking so wounded. “That’s what I always say.”

Carlos nudges him. “You never say that.”

Above them, a thousand colorful prayer flags blow gently in the wind. Wooden charms as numerous as the birds adorn the roof of the temple. Wishes for health, prosperity, family. Oscar tries to peek at what Carlos is writing, only for Carlos to shove him away so violently that they both fall over.

Oscar laughs as Carlos strains to keep his charm out of prying reach. No easy task, both of them being joined and all.

May the new year bring surprises and joy. For my family and friends, good health always. For myself—

Oscar wrenches his gaze away. Some things aren’t for anyone else to know.

He watches Carlos hang his charm up carefully. And then Carlos waits, back turned as much as he can, for Oscar to write his own wish. It’s simple. Fast car, many wins. Happiness. Oscar ties his somewhere near Carlos’s. Closes his eyes and listens to them jangle together.

For myself, patience.

Oscar’s pretty sure he’s dying. He’s pretty sure this is what dying feels like.

“I thought,” he gasps, in between gulps of warm tea that only makes things infinitely worse, “I told her not spicy?”

Carlos is cackling like the unhelpful asshole he is. “This is not spicy.”

When you explore some place new, local recommendations for food are a must. Oscar’s seriously reconsidering Travel Tip 101 when he gets fed hotpot that turns his tongue worryingly numb.

“Well, it is a little spicy,” Carlos concedes. “But nothing I can’t take.”

“Isn’t Spanish food not spicy?”

“It’s not,” Carlos says. “Actually, I wasn’t good at taking spice until after I started driving.” He fans exaggeratedly at Oscar’s overheated mouth, like that could even help an iota. It’s so Carlos it’s endearing. Shit. “I only started putting hot sauce on all my trainer’s meals because everything tasted so bland.”

Oscar coughs, wiping at his leaking nose. “It burns,” he moans.

“There, there,” Carlos says, mock sympathetic. “Don’t cry.”

“Seriously.” Oscar blinks rapidly, is it affecting his eyeballs too? His pulse thuds like the hoofbeat of a runaway horse. “How are you not even sweating?”

Carlos winks at him. “They don’t call me chili for nothing.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Aw,” Carlos says, and finally puts himself to some use by waving down a server, and sweettalking her into bringing a pitcher of iced water over.

Oscar calls first dibs on the shower, claiming the need to wash the spice out of his pores. Carlos rolls his eyes but acquiesces, gallant about it for once. They force themselves not to make it awkward. Pull apart for just long enough to slip their clothes off, eyes everywhere but on each other. Carlos stands outside the curtain as Oscar tries to shampoo and soap himself down in the narrow tub with one hand.

When it's Carlos's turn: “Oh my god,” Oscar says. “Carlos, are you using soap for your hair?”

“I’m trying to be quick,” Carlos says, voice disembodied even though he’s right next to Oscar. Separated by the thinnest sheet of translucent nylon. The shadow of Carlos is unmistakable in the light. The broadness of his shoulders, the tapering of his waist. “So you do not stand outside for forty-five minutes like I did.”

“I didn’t take forty-five minutes!”

Carlos laughs, the cackle now almost familiar. “And how are you knowing I’m using soap? Are you peeking?”

“I hate you,” Oscar says, waits for Carlos to return with a Hard same like they’re in on the same joke. Waits and waits until Carlos emerges from behind the curtain, not fifteen minutes later, lips still sealed together like withholding some secret.

As designated shotgunner, with no say in the matter, Carlos is in charge of the GPS and the AUX cord. After the second album of Enrique Iglesias, Oscar relegates him to Captain of Pointing Out Exit Signs Only. Carlos pretends to pout about it, but he reclines his seat, as far back as their joined elbows will allow. Closes his eyes, limbs loose, all relaxed. He looks so good like that, when he’s as easy as easy can be.

Oscar swallows the click in his throat back down.

“I feel bad,” Carlos murmurs, sounding like he’s close to drifting off. “You’re doing all the work.”

“I don’t mind,” Oscar says. He’s getting real good at one-handed maneuvers now. Hah, maybe this will be beneficial on the track. “I hate getting driven. I rather do it myself.”

“Control freak,” Carlos says.

“Yeah,” Oscar admits. “A little bit.”

When Oscar dares to look over at Carlos, there’s a smile curving his lips gently up. They didn’t magically learn how to talk to each other. But it’s a start, trading little morsels of information like passing notes in school.

One of Guanyu’s other suggestions had been Emei Mountain, boasting an altitude of over three-thousand meters and some ridiculous number of stairs.

(Sixty thousand, to be precise. Oscar had opened his mouth to complain, but Guanyu had responded with a report of the monkeys that lived in the mountain. There came that dazed, excited noise from Carlos again, and Oscar knew it was a lost cause.)

Jet-lag’s working in their favour, and they’ve arrived before the tour buses can deposit too many people for them to stomach. Ambitions are dampened when they realize climbing’s harder when surgically joined by some unknown force at the elbow. When Oscar lifts his left leg, his right arm wants to go, which means Carlos’s left arm needs to go, which means Carlos’s right leg needs to lift. They clunk around clumsily for the first chunk of steps, griping and critiquing each other’s technique. The fog rolls in and laps at their ears, and for a while, there’s nothing much to see.

An elderly lady pressures them into an early lunch, and Carlos gives in effortlessly, like always. It ends up being the best thing Oscar’s eaten since coming here. They fight over the last slice of barbecue pork, and Oscar wins, by virtue of being slightly better at using chopsticks.

By the time they’re halfway up, they’ve got climbing down to an art, limbs moving like clockwork around the constriction. Carlos takes advantage of their newfound skill to increase their pace to a march.

“Carlos,” Oscar’s not ashamed to beg. “Please, won’t you stop and look at the monkeys.”

Carlos laughs at him and calls him slow. Because Carlos is crazy, he’s taken off his light sweater even in this weather, and the threadbare white shirt he’s wearing leaves little to imagination. Chest hair, nipples. Oscar looks away before he can be caught staring. The fog’s given way to some amazing views. Rich vegetation, more trees than Oscar’s brain knows what to do with. Beautiful things all around.

Carlos’s face swims into view. “Come on.” The tugging at the elbow doesn’t hurt as much as it did before. “To the top! There are giant golden statues!”

The statues are indeed golden. And they are indeed giant. The largest one weighs six hundred and sixty metric tons, according to the pamphlet. Larger, surely, than the feeling expanding in his lungs.

“Look, Oscar!” Carlos points with their joined arms, all delight.

“Yeah,” Oscar says. Quickened pulse from the strenuous activity, and he wills it to settle. Control freak. “I’m looking.”

Designated phone time on the bed is an hour long. Oscar uses it to text his mum, sift through photos from the day. With how close they’re forced to be, it’s hard to get a picture without a body part of Carlos making its way in. Oscar finds he doesn’t quite mind. He’s got one of the cloudless, blue sky, the backdrop for the Leidongping cable car station. Carlos is pointing at something again, his finger situated artistically right in the middle of the lidless eye of the sun.

Guanyu’s the one who got them into this mess, so he probably deserves a photo update. Oscar sends it over WhatsApp and receives an O-M-G!!! in return, along with nine panda emojis.

No pandas, we’re not at Chengdu yet, Oscar types.

Honestly, I’m surprised you even made it this far, Guanyu says.

Wow, thanks

Oscar squints, rereads Guanyu’s message.

Wait, you were the one who gave us this itinerary!

Hahaha, is all Guanyu says, followed by multiple peace sign emojis.

加油!

Oscar has to google translate that, learn that it means to add oil. To go for it. Go for what?

“Teto says he wishes he was here too,” Carlos says sleepily, looking up from his phone.

“Teto’s out of luck,” Oscar says, ignoring the flash of something hot and possessive down his spine.

He plucks Carlos’s phone out of his willing fingers. Reaches over Carlos for the pull chain of the lamp. Beneath him for just a second, Carlos shifts, comfortable, cozy. Oscar gets the ludicrous notion that if he were to collapse down, right now, Carlos’s body would welcome him.

Shit. How long until they come apart?

Click, off go the lights. Meekly, Oscar makes his way back to his designated side of the bed. Carlos mumbles a soft Good night. More intimate than he could ever mean. Oscar mumbles something back, and satisfied, Carlos closes his eyes. He likes sleeping on his side. Coincidences of coincidences, so does Oscar. Carlos falls asleep faster though, and it gives Oscar a lot of time to stare without accusation. Trace the planes and slopes of Carlos’s face before he drifts off himself.

At long last. Chengdu panda base.

After jostling with the crowds to watch the pandas tumble around for their food, then tumble around to play, then tumble around to sleep, Oscar turns to Carlos.

“Well?”

“Eh,” Carlos makes a see-saw motion with his hands. “It’s a little anti-climatic.”

Oscar barks out a laugh. A joined body part, three shared showers, thirteen and a half hours in a car together later, and Carlos still surprises him. He really doesn’t do Oscar well on a neurochemical level.

“Isn’t this what you came here for?”

“I thought it was,” Carlos says. It’s no longer only their elbows touching. Now it’s bicep to little pinky, pressed up against each other like puzzle pieces which fit slightly crooked. One long, unbroken line of heat. “I thought—”

Carlos tapers off. Oscar waits.

“Well, it’s the journey that counts, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“They’re very cute, too.”

“Uh huh,” Oscar says. “Pictures or Guanyu’s never going to believe we made it here.”

Oscar takes one of Carlos with a sleeping mama panda in the background. He’s halfway through checking if it’s any good when Carlos grabs the phone.

“Come here,” he says.

It’s not easy arranging themselves together and catching a panda as well, but heck, didn’t they climb sixty-thousand stairs with some careful coordination? Carlos holds out the phone with his right hand, smooshes their cheeks together. The scrap of Carlos’s stubble against his skin—that’s, there’s a new sensation, in every way possible.

“Say panda,” Carlos says.

“Panda,” Oscar says, the same way he would say, Alert, or Danger, or Abort. His cheeks are going to show up pink in the photo. And Carlos will notice and say something completely asinine—

“Hee hee,” Carlos says. “Your eyes are closed, Oscar.”

Once they get enough panda souvenirs to shower the grid, the rest of the day passes in the laziest of fashions. They’ve hit their goal now, so there’s no need to rush. Oscar actually bothers to look through Yelp for restaurant options, and after all his hard work, gets yanked by Carlos into some random alleyway with plastic stools to eat hand-pulled noodles.

Meandering like leaves on an easy stream down the folk and culture street, the promise of a hot shower eventually calls to them. Oscar, gentleman that he is, lets Carlos go first.

Oscar stares unblinkingly at a water spot on a tile as Carlos hums and soap himself, as easy and as relaxed as if he weren’t stuck with Oscar listening to the way the water hits his skin. The first time in the shower, when Oscar had unwittingly brushed his hands over his dick, he’d jumped, then stood still for a whole minute, waiting for Carlos to call him out on it. It’d felt forbidden, with Carlos standing not two inches away.

To Carlos’s credit, he doesn’t punch Oscar when the curtain is pulled back, with a force that can only be described as resolution. He only yelps like a little pup, clapping his free hand over his chest, before the hand trails self-consciously down.

“I’ll help you shampoo,” Oscar says. “It’s faster this way.”

“Well,” Carlos says, “if it’s faster.”

They’re staying at the Shang this time, and there’s fancy shampoo smelling like bergamot and orange. Oscar douses Carlos with half a bottle, squeezing too much out by accident. He keeps bumping his hand into Carlos’s while they attempt to scrub. The lather gets into Carlos’s eyes, and Oscar has to try and hide his smile while Carlos whines piteously. It’s not actually faster in any way.

“There, there,” Oscar says, in a similar tone as to when Carlos had observed Oscar leaking copious fluids over hotpot. “Baby.”

Carlos makes a face and pretends to start crying again, and something terribly fond constricts the entirety of Oscar’s ribcage.

Towelling each other dry is a whole new learning curve, just like putting clothes on, and driving one-handed, and climbing stairs. They’re looking at each other this time, too. That’s also new. Huh. Carlos is very, very gentle as he dries the back of Oscar’s ears. The kind of gentle that speaks of someone having done this for him before, resulting in an insistence in getting this right. Oscar gets all warm, even with the water cooling rapidly on his skin.

“Phone time?”

“No need,” Carlos yawns.

It’s Carlos that leans over this time for the light switch, even though Shang’s posh enough to have light switches at both sides for easy access. Carlos hovers over Oscar for a suspended moment, and Oscar sucks in a breath, straining with anticipation. The head pat is unexpected, but enough for now.

Satisfied, Oscar closes his eyes.

“Hey!” Carlos exclaims. “Oscar, we’re free!”

“Whuh,” Oscar says blearily. He’ll never acquire Carlos’s habit of waking up at eight.

“Look, look,” Carlos says, all childish delight. He waves his arms in front of Oscar’s face. Both his arms.

“Hey!” Oscar says, shooting up, suddenly awake.

“Yeah!”

“So all we needed was a shower?”

“Oscar,” Carlos says disapprovingly. “It wasn’t just a shower. We wrote this on prayer cards.” Oscar doesn’t point out neither of them wrote this on a prayer card. “We climbed a mountain. We saw pandas!”

“And took a shower,” Oscar says.

Carlos sniffs. “Have it your way.”

“Fine, fine,” Oscar says. It’s too early to be feeling all warm and crumbly, like the center of a freshly baked pie. “It was the journey that counts, yes?”

“Yes,” Carlos nods. “Maybe. Maybe it was something I—we had to learn. In preparation for. For—”

May the new year bring surprises and joy. For myself, patience.

Their hands are no longer joined, but Oscar takes Carlos’s, and presses a quick, dry kiss to the backs of his knuckles. Carlos is so surprised he lets him.

“Ah,” Carlos says, voice trembly and a little hopeful. “What happens now?”

Oscar looks down at their hands. Going through all of this to separate, only to choose to stay touching. There’s something about a journey being full circle, but Oscar doesn’t want to finish that thought for fear of actually transforming into Julia Roberts. And anyway—

“Now we drive back.”

They’re not near done, yet.

#athy texts #fanfic #rpf #carcar #apologies for responding to your ask with 4k of the most self indulgent fic it will happen again #the cure to getting stuck together is to speedrun time spent together #anon i've never watched stuck together

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beingatoaster · 17 hours ago

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Re: how you skip a section and keep on writing: you determine enough about the skipped section's progression to know what the next point will be, and then start at that next point, without sorting out the exact details of that progression. E.g., for the aforementioned WIP, I have a written section where two characters wrap up a date they went on together and agree on the date for the next one, a scene break, a couple notes in the style of the OP about what scenes I want in the week in between, another scene break, and then I start back to writing in full narrative form about the second date.

...I was starting to describe it vaguely but hey, you will recognize the fandom, so:

As if setting that plan was a cue, Diluc starts to clean up the remains of the picnic, and Jean leans in to help him. He takes the two boxes the skewers had come in and carefully divides all the food out between them, handing one to Jean before tucking the other into his basket, and rises to offer Jean his hand. She lets him help her up. Together, comfortably discussing their tortoises, they head back to Mondstadt. *** [her evening with Barbara! maybe could lead to the 'keep Barbara from coming along' later on] [Kaeya is doing things to try and make the situation up to her, which Jean can tell he's doing and wants him to stop -- second Kaeya scene, with him taking work, moves here] *** On her next day off, Jean rises with a refreshing sense of anticipation. She picks through her civilian wardrobe for something practical for the trek down Drunkard's Gorge and wrangling tortoises. Even if it has to be practical clothing, though, it's nice to plan for this trip without automatically donning her uniform.

Now, those notes in the middle aren't clear here because I already know what tensions I'm pushing with these scenes (the main plot is Jean dating Diluc out of hanahaki-based obligation; Barbara is oblivious and happy for her, while Kaeya talked Jean into doing this but is now very guilty about it) and thus I don't need to describe them in more detail to myself. But I know what they are, I know what they're doing, and I don't need to know the exact wording of the dialogue or the exact actions taken in them right now to move on with the main-focus relationship, which is Jean and Diluc and the slow-motion train crash that is occurring between them.

And because said slow-motion train crash is the main driver of the plot, I can skip the side-character scenes for now because as long as I know what they're doing in the larger scheme of things (adding friction to the wheels such that individual cars on this train are beginning to tilt under the pressure), I can go back and fill in the exact details later. The Barbara scene needs to have her induce guilt in Jean about the lie. The Kaeya scene needs to emphasize that their relationship is under strain, leading later to Jean not being willing to trust him with a future plot development. I can write the guilt and the reluctance into later scenes knowing that in the second draft, they'll have a basis.

(I would bet every single example in OP's work is not a "I have no idea what goes here," it's a "I know that X needs to be here for Y reasons," but the note, like my notes, is just a placeholder in the text for that line/scene's actual story-function as they have it in their head.)

Also, a smaller within-scene example that works the same way:

"Thank you," Jean says again, less formally, a tightness in her throat. She hesitates there, not sure what else to say, what else she *can* say without further thinning the line she has to walk. Diluc solves the problem for her. "You'll have to handle the clean-up personally to be sure it's done right," he says, and that sounds irritable, this time, but at least his irritation isn't at her. "I'll do a final sweep for any stragglers. I expect managing other Knights' incompetence will take you the rest of the night." [some transition that DOESN'T include negging the Knights, that makes her think of the flower and/or how they're focused on the same goals] "Wait," Jean says, as he turns away.

I can figure out the exact dialogue I want to put there later--what matters is knowing what it does to move the story forward. Since I know what effect it will have, I was able to carry on with that scene and into the next one it effects without getting bogged down in the exact verbiage, which wasn't coming to mind at the moment.

So I guess the point is, you can leave blanks to fill in later as long as you know what those blanks do. Scenes/moments in a story are links in a chain, and you can always temporarily loop some baling twine in to connect lengths of a chain together until you have time to go to the store and buy a replacement, but that doesn't mean you aren't continuing the chain. I still think of myself as writing this story in order! It's just got a lot of baling twine in it right now because if I stop to go to the store while counting links, I will lose all forward momentum and won't continue on down the chain.

...Which is, to be clearer, why I'm suggesting trying this for motivation problems. The moment I hit friction when I'm writing a first draft, my motivation starts to die. On the other hand, once I have a finished first draft (by which I mean, still with these notes and unwritten bits scattered through, but with all the main scenes written and a solid ending), going back and writing those bits is not "friction" but "enrichment." Which may also prove true for you.

Or it may not! Your approach to writing is fine if it's working for you! Or if the reason it's not working for you is because something completely different is tripping you up and you need to troubleshoot from that direction. I'm just talking on and on about my approach because it's the only thing I know that works for me, and also I love navel-gazing. XD;; Hopefully you can find something that works for you!

me: yeah I'm pretty close to finishing this fic

the fic:

#writing

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theunsinkableship1 · 2 days ago

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DENIAL IS NOT A RIVER IN LUKOLALAND

⚠️DISCLAIMER: This is Lukolaland only. Skip if you don't believe.

Denial is a river in LUKOLALAND?

This has to be a joke, right? Some responses that I have received on my latest posts on TT and Tumblr leave me perplexed. Let me make something clear: I’m not here to convince anyone of anything. You have the right to believe whatever you want, that’s your prerogative. However, this is a Lukola space. It’s a space that exists to celebrate their connection, to nurture it from afar, because it shines brightly and is uniquely beautiful.

I don’t know them personally. I can only judge from what I’ve seen and heard, and I fully acknowledge that my perception is biased. My interpretations come from the way I read into their actions, their words, and their patterns. What I share here isn’t fact, it’s speculation based on observation. The only thing I know for sure is that I don’t know what’s really going on.

First and foremost, they are colleagues and FRIENDS. They’ve said that multiple times, and I believe them. For those who doubt their friendship, I don’t know what to tell you. That’s the foundation here. If you don’t even believe in their bond as friends, this probably isn’t the space for you.

But here’s where it gets complicated: they’re not just platonic friends. You may have missed it, but the signs are there, publicly available. You just need to pay attention. I’m not talking about outlandish theories; I’m talking about what’s right there if you’re willing to see it.

I believe they’re in love with each other. As for their current situation? I’m not certain. But the level of plausible deniability in their story doesn’t make sense to me. Maybe it does to you, but for someone who thinks in layers, patterns, double entendres, and undertones, someone who loves words and has studied communication and PR, this whole narrative is anything but straightforward.

Leaving this much space for misinterpretation is a choice. If they wanted to shut this down entirely, they could’ve done so with clarity and finality. It’s not that they can’t make themselves understood without being misconstrued, they absolutely can. But they haven’t.

It’s wise to keep a level of doubt, it maintains objectivity and prevents overreach. However, when coincidences stack up and patterns emerge, it becomes increasingly unlikely that they’re all mere misunderstandings or products of plausible deniability.

The more coincidences there are, the less likely they are to be unrelated.

On their own, one or two could easily be explained away, “just friends,” “PR,” or “fans reading too much into it.”

When similar themes arise repeatedly over months or years (e.g., their timing, shared themes, subtle nods to one another), the likelihood of them being mere coincidence diminishes.

The concept of plausible deniability hinges on actions that could be explained in multiple ways. However, the more layers of ambiguity and deniability built into their interactions, the more intentional it feels.

The subtleties of their public dynamic suggest a shared awareness of fan interpretations. They know how their actions are perceived. To repeatedly engage in behaviors that could be "misunderstood" suggests either: a) Intentional messaging within safe boundaries. b) A significant lack of care, which doesn’t align with how thoughtful and calculated they seem to be.

Take Nicola’s recent Times interview as an example. She could have ended all speculation right there,

“A lot of people really want me to marry Luke,” she says with a laugh. “We have this gorgeous friendship. We have such a love for one another and this experience that I’ll never have with someone else again. Isn’t it gorgeous that a man and woman can have that sort of relationship with one another?”

but she didn’t. Why? There must be a reason. And no, it’s not just PR. PR campaigns don’t operate on layers of plausible deniability that stretch across years, interweave with personal moments, and rely on such specific timing.

Isn’t it strange that for two people who have been so close, their social interactions have significantly decreased compared to before? Over the past two years, especially after the world tour, they appeared to have solidified a deep friendship. If the intent is to disengage fans from the idea that they might be secretly in love, wouldn’t it be wiser to interact more naturally and perhaps even acknowledge each other’s perceived partners?

From a strategic perspective, a like, a follow, or a simple interaction on social media could have gone a long way in dismantling the Lukola narrative. Such actions would feel natural for close friends, especially ones under public scrutiny. Their reluctance to adopt this approach only adds to the curiosity. Why not lean into a strategy that would be less detrimental and more effective at quelling speculation?

Perhaps they are more active on private social media accounts, but publicly, the absence of these gestures stands out. If the goal truly is to clarify their relationship and put fan theories to rest, this perceived distance feels counterproductive. The choice to refrain from such actions, at least for now, is, at the very least, curious. Could it be that there’s a reason they haven’t done so yet?

Both Luke and Nicola have had ample opportunities to firmly address and deny the Lukola narrative. While they’ve made passing comments about being friends, these have lacked the clarity and directness that would fully quash the speculation. Why leave the door ajar if they truly wanted to shut it?

Their reduced interactions seem to have coincided with the conclusion of the promotional period for Bridgerton. During promotions, they were actively engaging with each other and the fandom, fostering the image of a close bond. The sudden change afterward could indicate a deliberate decision to recalibrate public perceptions of their relationship.

The decrease in public interactions after the “papgate” could be their way of managing fallout from the incident, yet it raises questions: Why would two close friends need to distance themselves so noticeably? It suggests a calculated retreat to reduce speculation. However, this strategy seems counterproductive, as the abruptness of the change has drawn more attention. A gradual shift, paired with natural acknowledgments of their respective supposed personal lives, might have been more effective.

It’s possible they’re still VERY close privately but have chosen to limit their public interactions to avoid misinterpretation, or for privacy reasons. If so, this deliberate choice to create distance publicly could point to a deeper connection they’re trying to shield.

This brings us back to patterns. If you observe their public interactions, their timing, their word choices, the double meanings, they’re not random. These coincidences pile up to the point where it’s hard to believe they’re all meaningless. Their bond transcends the boundaries of PR, platonic friendship, or even ordinary relationships.

If you reason in layers, you’ll see it too. The amount of room they leave for interpretation is extraordinary. It’s not just about what they say, it’s about what they don’t say. It’s about the undertones, the pauses, the way they navigate questions, and even the things they choose to share (or not share) on social media. All of this seems to be deliberate. The picture is larger and more intricate than it seems on the surface.

For example: Am I truly supposed to believe that Nicola, who has a higher degree in English and a major grasp of language, would post a Scrabble board with so many elements that could be interpreted through a Lukola lens purely by coincidence? Yes, she’s an avid player of word games, but let’s examine the board itself. It reflects competent but not advanced gameplay, logical and adhering to Scrabble rules, yes, but lacking the level of complexity, strategy, and nuanced word choice you’d expect from someone of her linguistic caliber or from a player displaying their skill.

For me, this was never just about showing off her love of Scrabble. It felt intentional, like an intended message rather than a casual post. If the goal was simply to share her hobbies or an aesthetic moment, she could’ve easily posted a picture of herself playing Scrabble, perhaps with a pint of Guinness in hand. Or she could’ve showcased a more advanced board to reflect her skills or creativity. Instead, she chose this specific board with these specific words, words that align so conveniently with a narrative many of us have come to associate with Lukola.

And let’s not forget her self-awareness. Why would someone who knows how deeply her posts are analyzed by fans continue to share things that are repeatedly misconstrued? If she didn’t want the association, why add layers of ambiguity, such as the now infamous “the very demure, very mindful” quote? What was the reason?

Just two days ago, she posted a photo in her best of 2024 the phrase "if you know, you know." Let’s be honest, how many Lukola edits have we seen that riff of "when you know, you know"? If this wasn’t related to that, what exactly was the point of the “random” quote? Is it public knowledge or is it something only some know? Nicola is anything but random on social media. She’s chronically online, she’s clever, and she’s incredibly aware of the narratives circulating around her.

These patterns, Scrabble boards, cryptic quotes, wordplay, and selective ambiguity, don’t feel accidental. They feel curated. For someone so skilled with words and communication, there’s intention behind these choices. If it were just for fun, she could have chosen countless other ways to express herself that wouldn’t leave so much room for interpretation. But she didn’t. And for me, that’s speaks volumes.

I’m mainly talking about Nicola here because there’s simply more material to analyze, her posts, interviews, and public interactions offer more clues and layers to unpack. However, Luke’s activity, or rather, his noticeable lack of activity, is equally intriguing and worth examining.

Luke has always been more reserved on social media compared to Nicola, but his recent silence or carefully curated posts stand out. He’s not just absent; he’s selectively absent. There’s a difference between being inactive and deliberately staying under the radar. For someone who previously shared glimpses of his personal life and participated more openly in fandom engagement, his current approach feels intentional.

When he does post, the content often seems neutral, leaning into professional promotion or generic life updates. Yet, the timing or lack of acknowledgment of certain things, whether related to Nicola or even his supposed personal relationships, leaves room for speculation. It’s almost as if he’s consciously avoiding feeding into narratives while simultaneously not shutting them down.

For instance, why hasn’t he addressed certain rumors head-on, as he has done in the past with other relationships? Luke has historically been upfront about his. It’s a choice.

Considering that Luke has been involved in other projects and worked with other co-stars since the end of the Bridgerton world tour, the ratio of content related to Nicola remains strikingly high. Among the limited glimpses he does share, Nicola accounts for the largest percentage of reposts and interactions. What’s even more telling is that the majority of this content is Lukola-focused, centered on his dynamic with Nicola as individuals, rather than strictly Polin-related, which would be tied to their characters and professional pairing. Yes, she is his MAIN co-star within the Bridgerton universe, but this level of engagement is noteworthy.

This isn’t to say he doesn’t appreciate or acknowledge his other co-stars; it’s just that the weight of attention, however subtle, consistently gravitates toward Nicola. Whether it’s the choice of what he reposts or the absence of comparable attention toward other colleagues, the pattern emerges loud and clear.

If we analyze this through a lens of probability and statistics, the numbers paint an even more intriguing picture. Let’s say Luke has worked with five to seven notable co-stars in other projects and in Bridgerton, if he has been tagged in or had the opportunity to engage with 100 pieces of social media content since the world tour. If Nicola accounts for, say, 60% of the interactions and reposts, despite being one of many co-stars, it defies the expectation of a more even distribution.

For context, if he were equally invested in all professional relationships, the engagement with Nicola might hover closer to 15-20%, proportional to the size of his broader network. The fact that this number is so much higher, let’s conservatively estimate at least three to four times greater raises questions. Is this simply because of their shared Bridgerton fame? Perhaps. But then why focus on individual Lukola moments, bypassing more neutral or inclusive Polin or broader cast content?

From a mathematical standpoint, the odds of this being purely coincidental diminish significantly when you layer in the context:

Nicola has the highest percentage of reposts across Luke's social media activity.

The type of content intimate, personal, or Lukola-specific reflects a curated choice, not random selection.

Even in a professional context, where Polin content would be the obvious promotional focus, the Lukola-centric moments shine through.

Given the numbers and probabilities, it seems less likely that this pattern is accidental or merely reflective of professional obligations. Instead, it suggests an intentionality that aligns with the depth and uniqueness of their connection.

Promotion for Bridgerton Season 3 has come to a halt, creating a quiet period where we can observe and compare how Luke approaches the promotion of his other projects.it could highlight how unique his dynamic with Nicola truly is.

The nature of the content he shares for other projects will be equally telling

By comparing these promotional efforts both in terms of frequency and tone to the patterns established during the Bridgerton promotional cycle, we could gain insight into whether his approach to Nicola was truly unique or simply part of his broader professional routine.

When coincidences pile up, their probability of being just coincidences shrinks dramatically. A single instance might be random, but repeated instances with similar themes, timing, and emotional undertones suggest a deeper meaning. While maintaining doubt is reasonable, the sheer volume of these moments suggests that there’s more at play than mere misunderstanding. It’s not about overreaching, it’s about acknowledging that where there’s consistent smoke, there’s likely some fire. What type of fire is there currently? I’m not sure. Are you? Probably an Eternal flame.

#lukola #lukolaland

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luvleyshif4 · 1 day ago

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LOST IN TRANSLATION

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: it’s hard to talk to someone American when you don’t know English….so what happens when you meet an American boy who doesn’t know your language either…now you’re stuck with An unexpected meeting, unspoken words, and a connection that lingers…

Warnings: language barriers, reader is Italian, reader doesn’t know English, reader is a barista, tiny bit of awkwardness, based in Florence, possibly mispronunciation of the Italian language, a bit of anxiety (doesn’t have a lot of serious warnings)

Word count: 1.04k words

Authors note: hey guys!! just so you know, I don’t speak Italian at all so there is a possibility that I might have mispronounced the Italian I used in the story, but I really liked writing this one. I was watching a movie the other day and I kind of got the idea from that. hope y’all like it!!! (I want this to happen to me..)

The café in the middle of Florence was quieter than usual today, and the stillness only made the air feel heavier. You shifted behind the counter, the familiar hum of the coffee machine and the soft clink of cups the only sound filling the space. There was a certain unease growing in the pit of your stomach as you worked.

Today, you were alone, with your friend not coming in for their shift. It wasn’t the first time, but it always made you nervous. You were still new at this job, still figuring out the flow, and not being able to rely on someone else was making it a bit harder than usual.

You sighed quietly, trying to shake off the anxiety. It wasn’t like anyone was going to walk in and make things worse, right?

Then, the bell above the door jingled, and your eyes lifted instinctively.

A man walked in. His presence was undeniable—a tall, buzzed-haired figure with striking blue eyes that seemed to hold a spark of something you couldn’t place. He moved with confidence, his gaze sweeping the room, and when it landed on you, it felt like everything else in the café faded into the background. You weren’t sure why, but something about him made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t felt that way before, and it was a bit unsettling. Still, you tried not to let it show as you greeted him.

“Ciao, benvenuto! Cosa posso offrirti oggi?”(Hello, welcome! What can I offer you today?)

He didn’t immediately respond, and after a brief pause, you noticed the slight furrow of his brow. He was looking at you, but you could see the confusion in his eyes. Slowly, he opened his mouth, and his voice was thick with an accent, “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian…. Do you speak English?”

Your stomach tightened. Of course, you had already guessed he didn’t speak Italian, but hearing it out loud only made the weight of your nerves feel heavier. You quickly nodded, offering a small smile. “Un po’ di inglese,”( a little English,) you said, your voice shaking just a little. “Not much…”

He looked at you for a moment longer, as though deciding whether to press on. Then, he smiled softly. “No problem,” he said in English, though it was clear that even his words came with some difficulty. “Uhhh… Uno cappuccino?”

You nodded quickly, feeling a small sense of relief that the order was something familiar. “Cappuccino,” you said, trying to keep things simple. The rest was up to you, though. You could make the coffee, but the conversation would be a bit more challenging.

As you began preparing the cappuccino, you could feel his gaze on you. It was like a weight on your skin, but not an uncomfortable one. It was as if he was taking in every small movement you made, and your cheeks flushed under the intensity of it. You tried to focus on the task at hand, but the way he looked at you made it hard to concentrate.

When you hold the cappuccino in front of him, your fingers brushed against his as he took it from your hand, you quickly pulled your hand away, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. He seemed to notice and offered you a gentle shy smile.

You glanced up at him, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest. He looked down at the drink, then back at you. “I—uh, I don’t speak Italian very well,” he said again, breaking the silence, “but You….you’re really beautiful…..” he said, his English slow and deliberate, the words lingering in the air.

You blinked, unsure of what he meant.

you didn’t fully understand his words so You tilted your head, unsure how to respond, your nerves coming back tenfold.

He noticed your confusion and chuckled lightly. There was a certain warmth to it, though. He pointed at the small flowerpot sitting on the counter beside you, then back at you, his gaze lingering on your face. “You,” he said, “like this. Beautiful.”

You followed his finger and then looked back at him, finally understanding what he meant. He had compared you to the bright, delicate flowers in the pot, and for some reason, that comparison made your heart race even more. You weren’t sure how to react, but a small shy smile tugged at your lips, and your face flushed redder than before.

“Grazie…”(thank you…) you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. The simple word felt like the only thing you could say in that moment.

He smiled, his expression softening, and there was something in his eyes and the way he too had a rosy tint to his cheeks that made your heart flutter all over again.

The moment stretched for a beat, before he cleared his throat and reached into his pocket. He handed you the money for the cappuccino, and you quickly took it, your fingers brushing his once more. He took a step back and nodded.

“I should go,” he said, though there was a hesitation in his voice. “Maybe… I’ll see you again….”

You nodded, a quiet smile still lingering on your lips. “Ciao,” you said softly.

“Ciao…” he says as he gave you one last smile, a lingering glance before turning and heading toward the door. The bell above the door jingled again as he stepped out, and you stood there for a moment, heart still racing.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, still trying to make sense of the brief but undeniably impactful interaction. There was something about him, something you couldn’t put into words, that made your day feel like it had changed in an instant.

You glanced at the cappuccino machine for a moment, lost in thought, before you shook yourself out of it. Stop thinking, you told yourself. You’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to him.

But maybe, just maybe, you’d see him again…

Authors note: this is honestly so cute that I feel like writing another part to it, but let me know If yall like it and if I should write another part!!!

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #obx fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagines #drew starkey x y/n #obx #rafe x you #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fanfiction #drew starkey fluff

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northopalshore · 2 days ago

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💍 Briede persona chart:

Northopalshore's Briede Persona chart

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋.‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧ ₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

The Briede persona chart explains your natal Briede asteroid (19029) placements with more depth. If you are interested in women, it tells you about your wife ; usually their character going into & after marriage but still shows what their character is like in general. In a woman's chart, it tells them about themselves as a wife/after marriage. In this post specifically, I'll be analysing my own briede persona chart. Meant to be used as a guide and also my own theory based on observations. A prediction.

Briede Masterlist coming soon...

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

☆ Reminder: often times certain characteristics of your spouse/yourself will be seen through your perspective in the Briede (19029) & Groom (5129) persona chart. After all, it is still your chart.

Rising

Libra (°26 Taurus)

I'll appear very approachable and reasonable. Generally seeming very friendly and open minded. I will put a lot of effort into my appearance, making sure I look presentable at all times. Finding comfort in how I look. People will notice me for my calm and down to earth demeanor, as well as dressing in a way that complements my appearance.

Planets

Sun in the 7th house, Taurus (°19 Libra)

I'll be very focused on the marriage & relationship. Being somewhat of a peacemaker and the problem solver, decision maker, planned and adviser.

Mercury in the 7th house, Aries (°26 Taurus)

I'll be more stern when it comes to making decisions, often being the first to address any issue that may arise in the relationship. I'll accept compromises as long as they are fair and justifiable to both me and my partner. When it comes to communication, I will take the lead.

Mars in the 5th house, Pisces (°6 Virgo)

After marriage, I will shift a lot of my time and energy into creativity and artistic projects. It's still work, but I will be very passionate about it. Working on something I truly believe in wholeheartedly.

Moon in the 8th house, Gemini (°13 Aries)

I might be a little fussy and get overly attached to certain things after marriage. Being very obsessed with my own thoughts and worldview. I'll be somewhat clingy and protective over my spouse & family as well. Overthinking a lot about very random things. I will not be able to hide my thoughts, mood & emotional distress. I might grow to be very cautious or paranoid as well when put under pressure. But on a regular day, my thoughts function very well (i.e mercury in the 7th house).

Being a wife will add more complexity to the way that I naturally process my emotions. Having to think more and control my impulses.

Venus in the 8th house, Gemini (° 0)

My love life will be something that changes me deeply. It will open a lot of doors for me, test my creativity, & force me to try new things (Gemini). Teaching me to love wholeheartedly but at the same time be able to let loose & release control.

I've been reading into vedic astrology lately. And a lot of it really aligns to what I've been analysing in my western charts as well. I have Rahu in the 1st house & ketu in the 7th. Meaning that in order to feel complete in this life, I must focus on myself & my ambitions. To let go of control over matters relating to my spouse and relationships, accepting it as it comes (ketu in the 7th house).

The 7th house however, is a house of desire. It's natural to have a strong pull or curiosity concerning matters of the 3rd/7th/11th house. In my case, the more I try to manipulate or control the fire, the more severely I am burnt. The lesson here is to let go & love without the need to be obsessed.

Jupiter retrograde in the 12th house, Libra (°9 Sagittarius)

Years after the marriage, there is this sense of clarity that I may gain from being around my FS, our friends & family. Feeling this sense of contentment. Suddenly everything will make sense, and the dots are connected. This is something I'll likely keep to myself for the most part.

Saturn in the 9th house, Cancer (°22 Capricorn)

My studies could be hindered by my marriage life. Changing my initial plans to pursue some form of education or a different career path. This is something that may not go that well with my parents at first (they insist that I go through masters & PhD as well in the current path I'm taking). I may have to make a tough choice regarding this in the future.

Neptune in the 4th house, Aquarius (°17 Leo)

Neptune can symbolize one's greatest motivation or ideals in marriage but also how they may relax or unwind, lessons that I could learn after marriage. In my case, it seems that I'll be taught how to truly let my imagination run wild. Finally being given the opportunity to nurture the dorky animated version of myself. Also means living away from my parents or birth place.

Pluto retrograde in the 2nd house, Sagittarius (°24 Pisces)

Money. Money is... Well, I might feel rather guilty about money at first. Compared to my FS, I won't be able to support him the way that he does me financially i.e I won't be much help at first (I have Jupiter in Libra in the 2nd house in my Groom persona chart, this man does not need me for money lmao). This is something I might try to solve myself or hide from him so I don't become a burden, even if he does want to help it just doesn't feel right to be fully dependent on him financially. I'll still long for financial independence. My financial situation will also change going into marriage.

Uranus in the 5th house, Pisces (°10 Capricorn)

Shifting careers. Taking on a lot of new responsibilities, taking part in more important events, trying new things, gaining new interest. Making a career out of a passion project. Taking more creative liberty in my career.

Chiron retrograde in the 4th house, Aquarius (°3 Gemini)

I might be rather fearful of becoming a mother. Having doubts on whether or not I am fitting or ready to become one. Contemplating the changes that it will bring into my life. Knowing that when it does happen, nothing will be the same. There might be something related to a miscarriage as well, carrying guilt or a burden surrounding fertility or worthiness.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Asteroids

Starr (4150) in the 8th house, Taurus (°29 Leo)

Gaining sudden fame/recognition, hate, or unnecessary attention after marriage or as a wife. As I said it's likely that my identity will be intertwined with my love life and people may have .. their own strong opinion on that. It's likely that a certain reputation will stick with me as a wife, although I'm not really sure what that could be yet.

Briede (19029) in the 9th house, Gemini (°29 Leo)

In marriage, I will act as the guide. Perhaps my FS will often come to me for advice or just to vent his thoughts and things he may be passionate about. I might be a bit more extroverted around my spouse or after marriage, being more bold and taking the lead. A little dramatic, and animated.

Groom (5129) in the 6th house, Pisces (°25 Aries)

My FS will be very invested in his career as well. Perhaps branching out and doing things that align more with what he believes in, his true "expressions". He'll be very determined and hardworking. He may take somewhat of a backseat or supporting role for some reason, going with whatever plan that I come up with. Trusting the process. That being said, he's still anything but lazy. Still very eager to start something new.

North node in the 6th house, Aries (°22 Capricorn)

Another °22 ? Damn. Literally working with him will change my life. For better or for worst? We'll see. We may be working on something significant to both of us, something that we are both passionate about and believe in.

Juno (3) in the 6th house, Aries (°13 Aries)

In the in any persona chart (love centric) Juno & union tells you where you both come together to create or work on the most often in your relationship. Here, it means the same thing I've been saying before; working together as a team when it comes to work or daily life. Perhaps it would be odd to see us apart at work or when going somewhere. Even if we are apart, people will still bring up the other "Hey Gaia, where's your husband?".

Ex: My mom & dad both work best together as parents/at home, they always debate their decisions w each other. They're both homebodies lmao. My mom's Briede PC Juno is in the 4th house, my dad's is in the 8th house. Both are in Libra/Libra degrees.

Union (1585) in retrograde in the 12th house, Libra (°21 Sagittarius)

I may still keep certain doubts about our union or future to myself, letting go of control over the outcome of the relationship whether it will last the way I want, or go the way I expected. We will both be together somewhat behind the scenes. The inner workings of the relationship is something I may prefer to keep private.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹

Aspects

Grand Trine (Libra Jupiter 12th house, Gemini Moon 8th house, Aquarius Neptune 4th house)

There is this strong underlying feeling of both contentment and spiritual understanding. Being able to really sit back and feel the changes as well as the things in my life from multiple perspectives. This gives me the vibe of a "guru" in a way. My intuition, my thoughts and feelings are all in alignment. Overseeing things.

Sun conjunct Boda (1487)

My marriage is a key part of my identity. Literally. Having a lot of pride, being protective and being seen as a wife. When people think of me, they also think of my marriage. It's in the 7th house, which means to me, my marriage means the world to me.

Mercury conjunct North Node

There is going to be something significant with the way that I think or speak. Perhaps my mind will be very influenced by the thought of the future. Perhaps I will be taking, negotiating, advocating much more after marriage. It makes sense looking at my MC persona chart. Something similar to Brigitte Bardot. It's in the 6th/7th house, I will be prioritizing my work and connections. Speaking my mind. Starting something that is part of my life destiny.

Pluto trine North Node

Change is & will continue to be a common factor in my life. Since it's related to the 2nd (Pluto) & 6th House (NN) this change will further enhance my career. Finding ways to embed "change" into what I do, creating something new and impactful for my future.

Venus conjunct Starr (4150)

My love life may be very well known. People will recognize me for my charms and my interests. Both are in the 8th house , something about my love life is a big influence to those around me. Mostly concerning their opinion of me. The "shock" factor is what a lot of people will associate with my love life or relationships. There is this strange appeal or obsession around it.

Mars conjunct Uranus

I'll be more experimental after marriage, being more curious, trying new things, going to new places. I will likely be given a lot of room to do whatever it is that I want. Be it working on strange hobbies or projects that come to mind. I may do a lot of... Strange things artistically lmao. Maybe I'll finally perform a burlesque dance or start that indie game project I've been wanting to do. Whatever it is, I'll be doing a lot of new things. It's in the 5th house, both are in work centric degrees (Virgo & Capricorn) in Pisces. Something related to performance and art or the creative world.

Lilith opposite Chiron

Lilith in the 10th & Chiron in the 4th. I might feel like I am being held back by certain things going on in my home life in the future. Perhaps I may find it difficult to fully express myself or act independently without support or backup.

Groom square Pluto

There will be a lot of changes & challenges that my FS & I have to face. Being together will not be easy as factors like distance, misunderstandings, self-centeredness and outside factors can come clawing at us, but as far as I am concerned a relationship is not without its trials & tribulations. It happens to every relationship, how & when it manifests are the only dividing factors.

Saturn trine Groom, Groom trine Midheaven

My FS will be a driving force of long-term support for me. As rocky as things may get he'll still be a reliable support system.

Saturn conjunct Midheaven

Man. Work is literally the highlight of my marriage life. Through marriage, I am able to reach greater heights, success and career stability. Literally having the support to do the things that I aim for, reaching goals and a certain status in the long-run. Ketu in the 7th house & Saturn DK hits hard(vedic). "Your spouse is your greatest supporter".

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Thank you for reading ♡

@northopalshore

#briede astrology #briede asteroid #briede #briede persona chart #bpc #astrology observations #astrology notes #astro notes #astrology blog #astrology content #astro observations #astrology community #astrology #astrology ramblings #future spouse #future spouse astrology

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fullflowerking · 1 day ago

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A. Removing my name because some of you can't behave 😁

B. I don't remember my wings that well, but definitely closer to a lighter shade. Perhaps bronze or sandy brown

C. I was a lower ranking angel, tasked with observing humanity. Not intervening

D. See above

E. I didn't fall, I reincarnated to earth as a human being and I still consider my species to be an angel

F. I remember being in a beautiful garden at some point. My mind felt light and airy, and I "felt" things around me with spatial awareness instead of objectively viewing it. If you asked me to describe a single plant or creature in this garden I wouldn't be able to.

G. I resonate with the element fire because I was born in December. My dad was sick with cancer when I was born, and they told him he might not live. After I was born, he got better. I always attach this to the transformative power of fire, and my angelic abilities are still attached to me in utero.

H. I'm a biblical angel, so I guess more likely the Christian god. I don't remember him though, just a faint memory of Him being present.

I. I feel I became confined to earth after observing humans for so long. I think at some point I wanted to be involved more than I was, so I decided to join.

K. The advantage of being an angel on earth really depends on your definition of an advantage. My definition is having more freedom, being able to touch, see and experience the world like a proper mammal rather than like a divine being. You miss out on a lot when you lack the 5 senses.

L. A disadvantage. There are many. When you're an angel, you don't get tired, you don't need to go to the bathroom, you don't need to eat. Suddenly all these things that make you human become an exhausting task that you have to be involved in, all the time. There are more, but I want to keep this short.

M. I was around during the holy war. The crusade before crusades. I remember a few angels starting to feel less angelic over time, and it was like a ripple effect amongst the loyal. Suddenly, the side I was on with my brother Michael felt less and less like the winning side, and more like the side you pick when there's no better option. I desired the same freedoms as the other side but I suppose I was too cowardly to take it.

N. No one around me knows my identity. I feel like it's unnecessary to tell anyone. I can never go back to what I was. The best thing I can do is live my life as heavenly as I can in my current life.

O. Funnily enough, I started suspecting i was something more at a very young age. I didn't know quite what. I remember having mental shifts in the church growing up, and having visions about winged creatures when I was around 10. I discovered angels outside of the Bible and for the first time I felt like these things were the best thing I could use to describe myself.

P. Lol. I was hoping this question would come up. O fortuna is at the top of my list. It always gives me chills. Any songs in Latin or slavic-based languages always makes me go into mental shifts.

Q. To feel angelic, I watch movies with angels in them, read books with angels in them, exercise and ride my bike to just feel the wind against my face. I go to the park with a long black coat on and listen to music, and just watch people. Sometimes I talk to them, but not often because I can be quite introverted.

R. See above. I also veil on occasion, especially when I'm around religious buildings or graveyards or when meditating. (I do not pray to the Christian god)

S. I'm not repelled by religious buildings. I'm also not attracted to them. But when I step inside a place that has been cleansed, anointed or used for worship, I can get mental shifts and my vibration raises to the point that I believe that religious figures and children can feel.

T. Good question. Unfortunately I don't know what my halo looked like. I'm assuming it was closer to light than a physical object, maybe light that my divinity gave off. Like a rainbow spectrum or pure white. 🤷‍♀️ no clue.

U. If I did, I don't remember.

V. Not prophetic dreams, but I've had vivid dreams and nightmares about snakes, naked human beings, violence, starvation and fire. I have had many dreams of what I believe to be pre-flood events on earth, where animosity & disbelief became more rampant between Him and humans.

W. Nope

X. Anywhere that has a beautiful garden. I also like fountains, aquariums, the forest and jungle

Y. Nope

X. I remember being in Europe at some point. I don't know exactly where, I just remember hearing some francophone language being spoken, and there was a lot of political unrest. Unfortunately, the details were never that important to anyone, and as I've mentioned before, I didn't see things the same way as an angel as I do now. My best guess would be middle ages or less. They seemed to be very complicated with the Catholic church back then.

I hope you enjoyed my answers as much as i enjoyed answering them

Angelic Ask Meme

I’ve been meaning to make one of these for a while…send some to my ask, and feel free to reblog!

A-what is your angelic name? B-what did your wings look like? C-what are you an angel of? D-what order or rank of angel are you? E-did you fall? If so, why? F-describe a random angelic memory G-what element/s do you align with? H-do you remember or follow any gods? I-do you know or suspect why you are earthbound? J-what other angels were you close to? K-an advantage to being an angel on earth? L-a disadvantage to being an angel on earth? M-were you around during the war? If so, what side were you on? N-does anyone irl know you’re an angel? O-how long have you known you’re Angelic? P-what is a song that reminds you of being angelic, or of an angelic memory? Q-what is something you do to feel angelic? R-have anything you wear that makes you feel like your angelic self? S-are you attracted to places of worship, or repelled by them? T-what did your halo look like? U-any angels you had a rivalry with? V-ever have any prophetic dreams, or things like that? W-are you an empath/psychic/medium/etc? X-any places on earth that remind you of home? Y-ever had irl contact with other divines in this life? Z-have any past earthbound life memories?

#angelkin #otherkin #fallen angelkin #alterhuman #angels #divinekin #uttering hymns #lgbtqia #tumblr milestone #demonkin #fallen angel

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ughsecondblogsdontwork · 1 day ago

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I don't watch a whole lot of television, so maybe I'm missing some perspective, but I've never seen a TV show where the Main Character was a fat gay man (or person in general, I'm not crazy enough to think they'd ever try to pull this with a fat lesbian for instance) where neither his sexuality or fatness were 1. An overt problem in the narrative or 2. The butt of routine or mean-spirited jokes. What We Do In the Shadows was awesome in so many ways, but it was also awesome because I got to see a gay and fat person do all kinds of shit as a main character without being constantly questioned or degraded for being fat! I really, really love Guillermo. He's a vampire slayer! An action hero! He looks cool, cute and sexy all at once in his action scenes- I love watching him grow as a character and stand up for himself, I love his jokes, he's really such a great character! So this final season sucked, right. Like this final season was total shit ass, I'm sorry. I'm so disappointed. I feel so let down. There are a million reasons why it sucked, but right now I just feel sad because of how everything turns out for Guillermo and the queer and fat representation in the show. First of all, it really threw me for a loop when the show opened with crazy fat jokes about Colin Robinson. That obviously did not land for me at all and why would it land for wwdits viewers? We are following a show where we are emotionally invested in a fat MC and we don't have a *problem* with fatness- so why would I think it's funny that Colin Robinson "got fat"??? Make it make sense lmao.

And I don't know why the fuck Nandor and Guillermo's entire relationship was abandoned. Did every single writer jump ship and get replaced by someone who's never seen the show or??? Well, it feels like a punch in the gut for a few reasons:

This show is supposedly "queer". Every known vampire is queer and Guillermo is gay. But the only consistent relationship is Nadja and Lazslo, which isn't a problem obviously we love them, but would it kill the show for there to be...? More visibly queer relationships? It's a show that insists its gay over and over again in word but not action. I don't care if Nandor and Lazslo like to fuck each other silly offscreen, and Nadja is also supposedly queer in some way, off screen- everything is conveniently off screen. Nandor and Guillermo did not *need* to get together, but the lack of explicit acknowledgement is weird. It just is.

Also, it would just be nice! Like am I crazy? Is it too much to ask for? To see a fat MC be in love and in a relationship not in spite of their appearance but just bc the other person likes them? I feel like every show with gay couples as main characters is a romance based show that is mostly About them getting together. Wwdits is so much fun because it's about so many things! But why couldn't this be *one* of those things? Can you think of a single show in the world right now where a fat queer main character is in a relationship and their looks or their sexuality are not the key point of conversation about the relationship? I can't! This was the perfect opportunity! Nandor and Guillermo fell into a well established relationship trope that had nothing to do with appearance or sexuality, and people who like that trope were naturally drawn to it. Why did they just spit on the whole thing? It makes no fucking sense.

Any response like "well sometimes unrequited love is a good plot" "X needed to grow and Y relationship was bad" "It's better this way because of XYZ" "It would have been toxic" this is a silly tv show about murderous vampires. Guillermo is also a murderer. There is just no possible way that a relationship between Guillermo and Nandor would have ruined the show lmao. It would have been fun! Remember when TV comedies were about being fun! I sure do! Apparently asking for a fun gay relationship between the queer main characters of the "queer TV show" is just too much to ask- better luck next time! Honestly, I feel so bitter lol. Bitter and sad. A show this fun and a cast this good deserved a waaaaay better ending all around. This post isn't even touching all the other weird shit and quite a lot of objectively bad shit that was wrong with the season

Before anyone gets all weird about my use of the word fat if you're not familiar with that, I am fat and I think fat is a neutral word and am trying to normalize the usage of it instead of substituting it with shit like "plus size". Fat is not an insult in the context of my words lol

#wwdits #guillermo de la cruz #nandermo #nandor the relentless #nandor x guillermo #rant #fat positvity #fat positive

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autumnheartsprice · 1 day ago

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The Hidden

Alpha!Price x Omega!Reader

|gn!reader, no smut, abo dynamics, little but not really angsty, crying, fluff|

An Omega who was a part of the military was rare, nearly non-existent honestly. Weren't even reliable enough to be an assistant on base.

That's why you hid it. After years of mistreatment and abuse of power from your higher-ups, you retired that lifestyle. With a few scent blockers and pheromone perfume to make your scent more like a beta's, you progressed your way to a Sergeant. It wasn't the easiest to have to hide it in front of a team full of Alpha's and a Beta, but that's the only way you'll be able to continue working with them.

That's why, when you were assigned to help your Captain set up a safehouse in the middle of a forest and hours away from base or even any publicity, you didn't bat an eye.

It's day two of setting up the safehouse. After just arriving yesterday, only the smallest things were completed as the hours spent hiking up the mountain to this spot used up all energy from the both of you. You dug through the items that still needed to be sorted and put away, trying to make piles of similar items. Price was outside chopping some wood for the cabin's fireplace, the cool breeze outside only to get worse by nighttime.

Once most of the items found a home somewhere in the small cabin, you started putting together a small dinner of chilli for the both of you to share. Price abruptly opened the door, carrying an armful of logs as he quickly shut the door behind him, the coolness of the air already entering inside, the breeze sending a shiver up your spine.

Price sets the chopped wood by the door, rubbing his hands together before toeing off his boots. "Sorry love, 'tried not to let the cold air in." he muttered as he started taking his jacket off. He noticed your nod, the only form of response from you. He sets his jacket over a chair before walking to the kitchen, eyeing the pot of chilli you were making, before leaning against the counter to where he could see your face. "Ye alright? Haven't said much since we got here." he says, taking notice of your pink cheeks. "Look a bit feverish there, love." He adds, walking over to feel your cheeks with the back of his hand, only to feel your soft skin burning up.

He notices how you tense up and move away from his touch as he feels your cheeks. "I'm fine, sir. Must just be the weather gettin' to me." you explain. You turn the stove off and move the pot to a different burner before grabbing two ceramic bowls for the each of you. His brows furrow in suspicion but decides to let go of it. "Alright, if you say so, Sergeant. I want you to rest up after supper though, you hear me?" He states, leaving no room for rebuttal like you usually would, but you only hum in response.

He watches you only eat a few bites of chilli, only forking at your food before eventually getting up and excusing yourself to the bedroom. He watched you walk away as he finished up his own food, before cleaning up dinner and saving leftovers for it you got hungry later.

It was his night to sleep on the couch since he got the bed last night, although he forgot his charger. Making his way up from the couch with a grunt, he walks to the bedroom, stopping himself from knocking as he thought he heard something. Small whines and whimpers came from the other side of the door, too lost in your own pain to hear his footsteps walk up to the door. His Alpha heart aches at the whimpers, sensing the Beta in distress; he slowly twists the doorknob and lets himself in. The room was pitch black, only the small bedside lamp illuminates a quarter of the room. Your back was facing the door, not sensing him letting himself in.

He makes his way into the room, silently shutting the door behind himself as he walks around the bed and to you. He starts to strongly pick up a sweet scent from you, way too sweet than your usual self, but a bit bitter. He makes his way in front of you, seeing your head put into the palm of your hands. He reaches his hand out to slowly pet your head, only for you to quickly snap your head up at the sudden touch and bare your sharp canines, a low growl coming from deep in your throat before you even realize you were doing it to your Captain, of all people. He moves his hand to scruff the back of your neck and calm you, which works as it usually does with you, but your sweet scent starts to turn more bitter and sour. He finally gets a better look at you, seeing your cheeks flushed with sweat dripping down your forehead, your hair sticking to your face, and pupils wide.

"Jesus Christ, the fuck goin' on with you?" He mutters, expecting a damn good reason for why you look like you just crawled out from the pits of hell itself. He gently puts your hair behind your ear to get it out of your face. You shake your head, acting like you don't know, which very clearly doesn't meet his expectations. "You tell me what the fuck is happening right now. That is not a question, that is an order, Sergeant." He husks out, gripping your jaw and pulling your face up to look at him.

Your eyes start to brim with tears, your chest tightening and getting harder to breathe; he only tightens his grip on your jaw, expecting an answer. "P-Please.. I.. I need you, Alpha.. please, just do something.." You whisper, voice shaking with anxiety as you pull the collar of your sweater down, exposing your inflamed and very red scent gland.

Price lets go of your jaw and steps back, taking in the sight before him. Only Omegas get inflamed scent glands like that... Only Omegas..

He has to force himself to take a deep breath to remain calm, he can't scare you in a state like this. For fucks sake, it'll take hours to even get help to you.

"You.. You're an Omega..?" he slowly asks, taking a step closer to you. He watches as a tear rolls down your cheek as you hesitantly nod. "I-I'm sorry.. I'm so so sorry.." You quickly mumble, hands coming up to cover your face in embarrassment. "Hey.. sh, shh.. it's alright, love.." He whispers, slowly taking your hands in his and pulling them away from your face. "Let me see, okay? Can't help ye if I can't see what I'm working with, lovie, I'll be nice and easy." He soothes you. Gently rubbing the back of one of your hands with his thumb as he uses his other hand to lower your shirt collar again to reveal your scent gland. You unconsciously tilt your head to the side so he can get a better look. He softly runs his thumb over your inflamed gland, causing a pained whimper to leave your mouth and making him pull away.

"Alright, lovie, it's okay, I'm not gonna touch it no more.. Let's take this off of ye, okay?" He explains, carefully taking the fabric of your shirt into his hands, he looks up at you for your consent and with your nod, he gently pulls it up over your head. He brushes your hair behind your shoulder as he thinks.

"Love, I know you haven't been fully honest before, but right now, I need you to tell me the exact truth so that I can help you." He says, a firm tone in the Alpha's voice which makes you whine. "Are you in heat right now or is this from abusing scent blockers?" He asks. He watches as more tears roll down your cheeks, he's sure it's from the stern voice during a vulnerable moment like this or even from just plain embarrassment or pain, but he doesn't have time to worry about emotions than your physical health. He sees you stick up 2 fingers to silently tell him it's the second option and he nods.

He's sat on the bed with you in his lap, your back against his chest, and the two of you both shirtless. He rubs some soothing lotion on your scent gland, having to hold you down as you try to get out of his grasp as you whine in pain. He whispers soft reassuring words as he tries to get you to lay back against him. "C'mon, sweet girl.. it'll be better once I can get this on ye." Which somehow gets you to rest your back against his chest again, earning an "Atta girl." as he starts to continue treating the inflammation.

He gets you to rest for a little bit, almost falling asleep before you start to whimper in agony, trying to claw off your scent glands, before he quickly realizes what you're trying to do and pries your hand away from your neck. He sighs, not knowing what to do anymore to help you besides give it time. He wraps his arms around your chest to pull you back against him, and he starts to pick up that bitter, almost rotting, smell again. "Sweetheart.. ye gonna let yer Alpha scent ye? Hmm? Help make the pain go away?" He murmurs into your ear. He gives you time to think, before he sees you nod and he knows that's the only response you'll give him until you feel better.

He readjusts you on his lap, turning you around so that you're facing him, telling you what to do if you ever want him to stop. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. He nudges his face, telling you to tilt your neck more, which you do. He rubs his scent gland against yours, starting to scent you. He feels your head fall back in relief; He puts a hand behind the back of your head to give you support while continuing to scent you. His gruff beard rubs against your soft neck, reminding him to shave in the morning. He feels his heart ache listening to you whimper and cry on his lap, but he knows it's because it's making you feel better.

You soon fall asleep in his lap, finally feeling comfortable enough. He takes advantage of this and lays down, letting you lay on top of him. He pulls a blanket over the two of you but doesn't turn the lamp off, not wanting to not be able to fully watch you in case of anything.. Or because his Alpha instincts are taking over and want to protect his Omega.

PT. 2?

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a-bit-too-critical · 3 days ago

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Oh yeah, stupid obvious problems with the plot of sinsmas:

1. How the hell is Stolas able to harm Andrelphus?? Andre has even more power than before (enough to form ice in large sculptures, animate said sculptures, so yeah he’s powerful), and Stolas is literally on the power level of an Imp now. If anything I could see a joke where Stolas tries to punch Andre and gets flung back immediately, then has a mental breakdown realizing he can’t do shit to stop any of the Goetia against him

2. …so do hellhounds just have crazy ah quadrupedal forms now??? Why??? They’re the lowest class in hell they have no right to transform into big beats that could easily maul the imps, hellborn, and maybe even sinners they are supposed to work for. Makes 0 sense. Hellhounds should have no extra forms and human forms should be accessible via asmodean crystals and royal objects such as the grimore, not just a thing hellhounds can do.

And some miscellaneous stuff not related to plot issues or holes but just wanted to talk about em:

- The Stolitz dance was just a glaring reminder of Viv changing her stories based on fanwork. Two Stolitz animatics that became very popular a few years ago (Sway and Greg and Rose Dance) are so clearly inspirations for the dance. Blitz climbing up on something, an intimate and comforting moment at the end, cheesy romance music, it’s literally all there like cmon Viv :/. Dance styles are pretty similar too. Inspo is fine but this really feels like she’s just taking fan ideas again

- ohhhh look who came running back to Viv 😭

- I also wanted to yap about Millie’s pregnancy because there’s about 6 possible outcomes that I could see Viv going for:

The best outcome: Millie doesn’t want the baby, her and Moxxie discuss and eventually decide on abortion. Millie trusts Sally May with all her heart and decides to confide in her, which proceeds to turn her whole family against her. Could be a good commentary on how these kinds of political nothing-burgers can straight up tear tight knit families to shreds, and for what? A woman’s personal decision? I’d love for them to show how stupid it is for families to be torn apart over politics, but that’ll never happen

The other great outcome: Millie debates heavily on what to do over the course of many episodes, but eventually her and Moxxie come to the conclusion to keep it and we get a fun arc of them raising a kid and pulling Imp closer together along with their relationship

The neutral outcome: Millie gets rid of it and it’s not really addressed for more than one episode, it’s just kinda there lmao

The pretty freaking bad outcome: Same as the great outcome except the child is used as a substitute for Octavia by Stolas and they basically become his child :/

The really, really bad outcome: Millie is forced to “accept the gift of life” and raise a child she doesn’t want or some stupid pro-life commentary

The Jesus Christ Viv why outcome: extremely sexualized and unnecessarily long pregnancy and birth scene, no I wouldn’t be surprised if this actually happened

So yeah, this could either be great or one of the worst things that has ever come from this show

#hellaverse critical #hellaverse criticism #hellaverse critique #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #helluva critical #sinsmas critical

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gremlinwithacause · 2 days ago

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You should have known better. It’s not the first time you’ve been ditched, but it might be the last. Huh.

You make good money on your work. You’re nothing noble or special. You’re just damn good at your job. Fighting and killing come second hand. You could blame it on your parents. Blame it on working at a slaughterhouse. Blame it on getting picked on and having to fight for yourself. Blame it on needing cash to live. The details don’t matter all that much. You’re a good fighter and a better killer. Someone told you that your need to survive made you different. You don’t think so and you’re tired of hearing it.

It’s not just the shady folks that hire you. You get plenty of employers of good standing. The adventurers aren’t special. A set in a line of many that want extra hands or extra cannon fodder. You tend to be lucky enough to be the former. You’ve ended up in jail more than once for people like this. Your wealthier employers tend to bail you out. You were valuable enough for the extra investment. Worth more alive, and all that. So you’ve been around a few dozen times.

Being ditched in the field isn’t new but being half dead is.

You should have seen it on their faces. You should have known better. They didn’t want you there, but someone thought they needed you. It makes sense they ditched you once the boss went down.

But damn. They didn’t even watch it happen. Straight for the loot, huh? On some level you respect it, on the other level you’re bleeding out and you can only watch them run away. Not even a one liner? A spit on your body? A single piece of gold thrown on your body and a good “there’s your payment, you filthy animal.”

Huh. Maybe you deserve it. You never messed with theatrics. Why would you get any?

Things are fading in and out. Blood loss is always a pain to deal with. It would be easier to let go, you think. You still put pressure on the wound in your stomach and side and breathe through the pain. It’d be insulting if you just let yourself keel over, right? No, you’re just scared.

“Guess we’re both expendable, huh?”

You don’t have it in you to startle. The boss that you were damn sure was dead is not that. Alive enough to banter with you. It’s more than you offered anyone. What a sweetheart.

“Dunno,” you say. “Never really thought of it.”

It makes sense. You’re not a hero. What were the chances of you actually out-living adventurers like the ones that ditched you here? You’re worth more alive, but when is the investment no longer worth it?

“‘S funny,” the boss says. Chatty, you think. What can you do but humor them? “Didn’t think heroes would leave their own behind.”

“I was hired,” you say.

“Really?”

They laugh. Then cough and choke on blood or their own spit. You wait for them to finish their cackling, and then continue to wait for the end.

“They're always picky with their heroes, huh?”

Oh boy, the pronoun game.

“Don’t care,” you say. May whatever higher power there is forgive your temper as you’re dying. “It’s work.”

“Ah. You’re one of those,” they say. Like they know you. Ugh. You want to finish the job. “I always liked those. Basic motivations are the best. Nothing to second guess.”

You roll your eyes. You’ve heard it all before. What is it worth now?

“I tried the whole leader thing,” they say. “Good worshippers are hard to find, you know?”

You don’t. You won’t.

“Sounds more like a cult.” “Eh. Same thing,” they dismiss.

“What were you even the god of?” you snap. You can’t help it. This guy wasn’t any more special than you--that is: not.

“Anything I could get my hands on,” they say. “I wasn’t picky. Got enough of something that I became this, though.”

A boss. A few tiers above the usual monsters that you can find, always locked up in some kind of home base.

“So were you a god or not?”

“No, never got that far. Wouldn’t have lost to you if I did.”

“Sure. Lie to yourself.”

They laugh again, “I like that. Confidence like that is usually up on some pedestal. Good on you.”

“Yeah. Did me a lot of good.”

“Did you enough,” they say. “You’re not new at this, must have been going for a while.”

“It’s work,” you repeat. It’s always work. It’s to survive.

“You want a new job?” they ask.

You lift your head enough to look over at them. They’re flat on their back. Your spear is still in their chest. It’s what’s keeping them from bleeding out. You know better than to leave the weapon in, but you were distracted by the whole dying thing.

It’s getting harder to keep the pressure on your wound. Your hands are getting weaker. You’re getting weaker. You’re surprised you’re still awake. And what is this guy talking about? …You’ll indulge it. What else are you going to do?

“Contract?” you ask.

“Sure,” they say.

A silver contract appears in front of you, something you don’t see too often. The consequences on silvers are serious, most people just do physical ones or bronzes.

You squint to make sense of the blurring letters.

“Follower? Really? What, are you still trying to form that cult?” you snort. It hurts and you dig your fingers into your skin. You don’t even feel it.

“Good clerics are hard to find,” they say.

“Hah, and your lucky cleric is about to kick the bucket,” you say. “Sucks to be you.”

“Read it.”

“Sorry. It gets hard to read with blood in your eyes.”

“You live. You worship me.”

You grimace. Sounds like a hassle. But… the idea of continuing to live is like candy. What else is there to do? It’s work.

You sign.

You’re a mercenary hired by adventurers to defeat the boss. After the battle, they loot the treasure and abandon you wounded. The defeated boss crawls over and says, “Guess we’re both expendable, huh?”

#gale writes #this is an idea i've had bouncing around for a hot minute #what if you made a deal to worship a dying god and you were good at the job. what if you both needed each other to survive #good clerics are hard to find

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wickedsmille · 2 days ago

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batman, robin, sentient super suits, oh my! part 3

Ta~ da~! Part 3 and done. (Here's Part 1 and Part 2, if ya want.) It didn't go exactly as I wanted but when I went back to rewrite part of it I couldn't make myself do it so. Welp, it is what it is. But, here we go -

---------

A little while later, Tim yelps from his side of the bed. Jason’s head whips around to see what the commotion is, bumping shoulders with Tim who has also hastily sat up.

Craning his neck, Jason looks down over the side of the bed to where Tim is staring, dumbfounded. All he sees is Tim’s bag, open with the Red Robin costume on top. Sort of strange since leaving their gear out in the open isn’t exactly Bat-protocol. No telling when a nosy or distracted maid might barge in. Otherwise, nothing is amiss. Color Jason confused.

“What the fuck,” Tim breathes as he scoots further back till he’s half in Jason’s lap which, awesome, but weird.

“What?” Jason snaps.

Over the side of the bed, the sleeve of the Red Robin suit snakes up and slaps down hard on Tim’s wrist near the edge of the bed. He makes a high noise of surprise then he’s fully in Jason’s lap. Still awesome, very much so, but bigger fish to fry and everything. Such as the irrefutable proof that Red Robin has gained the nebulous honor of having a mind of its own. And it’s apparently not very happy with Tim if the way it snaps out to hit him again is any indication. This time, Tim pulls his hand back before he can get slapped.

“How-” Tim chokes out, whipping his head around to stare at Jason.

Their faces are so damned close Jason can feel the too fast puffs of Tim’s breath against his cheek. It’s doing him absolutely no favors in staying focused on the issue at hand.

Tim’s eyes narrow. “Did you do something to it?”

“Me? That thing was totally normal until you got a hold of it. What did you do to it?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Un-fucking-likely!”

A pitter patter of sound draws both of them away from the edge of their budding argument. Back at the side of the bed, the Red Robin suit is padding its sleeves against the blanket to draw their attention. Guess it didn’t like where their conversation was headed.

“Oh yeah, that thing is totally alive,” Jason says.

“No” Tim drawls sarcastically. He frowns at the suit. A flash of understanding brightens his face as his mouth drops open. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”

“Mind cluing in us pea brained peons?”

Without looking, Tim hits Jason in the chest with the back of his hand. “All the malfunctions!”

Tim doesn’t need to say anything else for Jason to pick up what he’s laying down. The events of the past few weeks make a lot more sense now. Including their current predicament which has led to a lap full of dressed down, sleep warm Tim. Touche, Red Robin, well done. He has to hand it to the suit. Red Hood is all overt action with very little subtly but Red Robin had completely flown under his radar. Even yelling at it earlier was based more on a vague hunch.

“I’m glad I hollered at it earlier then.”

Tim’s eyes snap back to him, incredulous and amused. “You were talking to an inanimate object?”

“First of all, it isn’t inanimate any more. Second, don’t act like you’ve never talked at something before.”

Tellingly, Tim stays silent.

“Look at it this way, you’ve been chosen,” Jason says with a shrug. “Better than, I guess, since you brought the fuckin’ thing to life.”

Tim does this odd thing where he goes boneless. As in he falls limp against Jason’s chest with his head resting on Jason’s shoulder. For a second, he’s worried something is wrong. Tim wouldn’t be Tim if he weren’t wound tighter than a spring. He’s the most neurotic sonuvabitch Jason knows. To have him so soft and pliant? It’s kind of throwing him for a loop.

Looking down at Tim’s face, Jason’s worries bleed away. The content, gentle happiness he finds there, only a thin thread of bitter sadness belying it, tells Jason all he needs to know. Once more, because he’s just that good, Jason has stuck his foot in his mouth. Except in a good way this time.

Thinking back, Tim told him what it was like when he was first Robin. It sure as hell hadn’t felt good when Robin didn’t want anything to do with him. He can’t imagine what it was like for Tim to have to actively fight against the suit. To push and push and push till he was finally, reluctantly accepted. Only to be dropped and have nothing waiting for him, ready for him. The lonely ache of wondering if he’s good enough and that’s why a suit doesn’t come for him. Needing to push past all that, piled on top of the long hours and endless horrors the nightlife brings, and keep on keepin’ on.

But Jason has pointed out the obvious which he doesn’t doubt Tim completely overlooked. In agreement, Red Robin raises its sleeve and points at Jason.

“Oh,” Tim breathes. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Me neither. Way to make history.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “But I don’t get it. Why do all of this?”

Once more, Red Robin pointedly gestures towards Jason. He glares at the damn thing because if anyone needs to shut up, it’s Red Robin. Given the genuine curiosity and bafflement in Tim’s voice, Jason’s pretty sure he’s not being purposefully obtuse. Granted, Tim can lie with the best of them, the little scamp. Jason has been meaning to get a few lessons. His gut is telling him this isn’t one of those times. Tim really doesn’t get it and Jason would like it to stay that way until he can either nut up and confess or brutally murder the impulse to fuck him raw at the first opportunity.

“No idea,” Jason replies lightly.

On his side of the bed, Jason’s bag wiggles violently. He groans and clenches his jaw, unwilling to let Red Hood enter the chat. This is a recipe for disaster. Adding in his suit won’t help him in keeping his inconvenient crush under wraps. For all he knows, Red Robin and Red Hood have been colluding together to make this shit happen.

“What,” Tim starts before trailing off.

The stare he pins Jason down with is so intense and invasive Jason feels like he needs to shove Tim off and disappear for a few months. It’s something akin to being flayed alive. His eyes skitter across Jason’s face, breaking him down bit by bit without needing to say a word or lift a finger. Really, Jason should get Tim away from him before he peels away the last layers keeping Jason from being truly perceived.

Lightning quick and catching Jason unaware, Tim lunges across him to drape himself over Jason’s side of the bed. With deft fingers, he yanks open Jason’s bag. There the Red Hood is in all its glory, helmet on top of a bundle of heavy padding and armor. The lights on the eyes flash and Tim blinks down at it.

“Hey, now!” Jason chides, dipping down so he can shut the bag before the shit show starts.

He doesn’t get that far before he’s getting full-on backhanded by the sleeve of his own suit. Wow, the suits are being aggressive. He’s not even sure what to do so he tenses up and stares at the wall. There’s enough semtex in the bag to blow it all to hell, right? He could totally ask Alfred to call up Lucius for a new suit. If Tim can finagle a consciousness into a regular suit, Jason should be able to as well. Maybe the next one won’t be such an asshole. Though he doubts it. On all counts.

He doesn’t remember if actually brought any plastique. Lucius isn’t exactly itching to do Jason any favors and Alfred would be more likely to politely mock him for doing something as stupid as blowing up his own suit. There’s no way for them to know how Red Robin is Red Robin now. And he’s, admittedly, a major asshole so it only makes sense whatever suit gets stuck with him has a personality to match.

Tim bops the helmet and scowls at it. “Rude.” Red Hood doesn’t hit Tim. Instead, it pats him on the cheek gently. “Much better,” Tim says, satisfied.

Jason gapes at the interaction. “That is so unfair. What the fuck!”

“I told you things went well when I covered for you.”

“Apparently. Maybe a little too well.”

“I wouldn’t say that. It seemed like the Red Hood lik-”

Flipping over so his ass is seated in the well of Jason’s legs, back arched over his thigh, Tim looks at Jason. Jason doesn’t like the way Tim is looking at him. It’s less wondering and more knowing. So he does what he does best and tries to push Tim off him. They’ve been too close to too long and the need to run is an overwhelming compulsion at this point. Like a goddamn lamprey, Tim winds his arms around Jason’s waist and holds fast. The guy doesn’t go anywhere despite Jason’s best efforts since he isn’t in a position to get the leverage he needs to pry Tim off.

“You like me,” Tim says simply.

Jason chokes as the bottom of his stomach falls out. “No, I don’t,” Jason denies.

His helmet makes a high pitched whine of protest like the voice modulator got hit with a current and fried the circuitry. Goddamn, he thinks he even hears a click from one of his guns. Red Hood is a straight up thug. Which Jason loves but, holy hell, right now he definitely doesn’t. Being bullied by what amounts to a souped up, military grade Call of Duty cosplay hits him right in his pride. Forget Bruce and the clusterfuck of that whole thing, this is his new villain origin story.

Red Robin isn’t so charmed by his denial either. The suit flops onto the bed, farther up this time, so it can nail him right in the shin. Jason makes a pained noise more from being startled than it actually hurting. If the blanket weren’t draped over his legs, then, yeah, that would’ve stung. Great, now, he’s being bullied by the equivalent of a theater major seamstress’ fever dream too. When will the injustices end?

Throwing his hands up, literally because he’s so far past settling for metaphorically doing it, Jason looks to the ceiling and prays for patience. And to not get socked in the jaw by Tim for what he’s about to say. Still, to the pock-marked ceiling, Jason says, “Fine, yes, I like you! Jesus, fuck, everybody lay offa me! This is the worst kind of peer pressure. At least I could cunt punt a peer but no. I get some goddamn JoAnn Fabric cast offs harassing me.”

“And me,” Tim pipes up.

“And you! Which, can’t we focus on the miracle of your suit showing signs of intelligent, manipulative and kind-of-dickish life? Let’s go back to you getting misty eyed over a newly minted supernatural costume.”

“We’ll come back to that,” Tim agrees, “but first we should probably deal with this. Just, Jason...”

Well, shit, he doesn’t like Tim’s tone. It’s not the voice of a man about to lay his heart bare in preparation for an emotionally charged conversation destined to end in a heated kiss and a roll in the sack before the camera cuts to black. Nor is it shy and demure or happy and accepting. Jason doesn’t want to put a name to it but, if he had to, he’d say Tim sounds distinctly awkward and uncomfortable. Hesitant and pained. This does not bode well for his chances. He can already smell the acrid, sharp scent of his chances going up in flames.

“There’s a lot between us,” Tim says somewhere around the bottom of Jason’s ribcage. “That we’ve never talked about.” Now Tim pulls away fully until he’s back on his side of the bed.

Jason knows a let down when he hears one. He opens his mouth to tell Tim to can it, spare them both the continued embarrassment. On some level, Jason always knew anything between them would be doomed. Forget burning the bridge between himself and Tim, Jason incinerated it. With prejudice. The fact they’ve come so far already is a miracle. It’s the little, emaciated street kid in him that makes him greedy, to take and take and take until he can’t anymore. Well, this is the can’t anymore, he guesses. But now he’ll lose it all.

The words are there on the tip of his tongue when his helmet makes another whirring, whining noise of protest on one side of the bed and there’s the pat, pat, pat of fabric against fabric on the other. His head whips between the Red Hood, disgruntled and displeased, and Red Robin attacking Tim’s leg much as it had Jason. Tim quickly scoots back towards Jason and pulls his legs in. In response, Red Robin flops onto the bed again and nails Tim right across the face.

Jason has never claimed to be a good person so he laughs. “Okay, I’m starting to feel fuckin’ hunted here. I get why they’re coming at me but-”

He breaks off since there’s no point in finishing the sentence. Tim is a genius. Point blank, period. It’s a verifiable fact Jason hates and likes in equal measure. If his big brain can’t piece together a puzzle, Jason doesn’t stand a chance but by no means is he a slouch. For this, understanding why Red Robin and Red Hood are coming at Tim just as hard as they are at him, Jason doesn’t need a three digit IQ.

“You little shit, you like me too,” Jason accuses, honestly mad Tim was about to dismiss him out of hand.

Tim doesn’t say anything which is answer enough for Jason. Not for Red Robin who whips out at Tim again, making him curl up tighter and away from the offending garment. Or offended garment, in this case.

“I’m bad at this,” Tim hisses to his suit. “God, why are you so-”

“Oddly violent?”

“Persistent,” Tim insists, glaring at Jason.

Jason fixes him with a look.

“And a manipulative asshole,” Jason supplies but he isn’t talking about Tim’s suit anymore.

“I’m bad at this,” Tim says again, this time directly to Jason.

“Tim.”

“Jason.”

Red Robin and Red Hood voice their displeasure as much as they can.

Rolling his eyes, Jason talks at the ceiling again because it’s easier. “Why wouldn’t you just say that? Okay, you’re bad at it, fine. I literally paved the way for you to just say ‘Golly gee, me too’.”

“I’m awkward, okay?” Tim blurts, irritated and not bothering to pull on his usual carefully crafted mask of indifference. “I’m not exactly the greatest when it comes to interpersonal relationships. You can just ask Steph.” After a brief pause, Tim backpedals, “Actually, don’t. Never do that.”

“Well now I have to.”

“You really, really don’t.”

“Maybe if you’d stop being such a coward-”

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” Jason says maturely.

Jason should’ve known the kiss was coming as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Not once has Jason seen Tim back down from a challenge once it has been set down in front of him. Including the time Jason gave him a spectacular beat down in Titans Tower and demanded to know if Tim thought he was good enough for Robin. Half unconscious and bloodied, Tim had said yes.

This isn’t so different, Jason thinks, because he kisses back, brutal and vicious and commanding, while Tim takes it all then dishes it back. More than once, Jason’s teeth clack against Tim’s but neither of them pull away. Somewhere between now and Jason’s head emptying of rational thought, his hand has found its way to the back of Tim’s neck, keeping him in place. He doesn’t have to worry about Tim pulling away, not really, with the way Tim holds onto Jason’s waist.

The world drops away till there’s nothing but the soft, barely there moans Tim breathes into him. He swallows them greedily, vows to get more of them till he’s had his fill. His other hand, the one not latched onto Tim, finds Tim’s thigh and kneads at the muscle there. One of Tim’s hands slides down and skirts along the edge of his shirt till it teasingly slips under the fabric. The rough, calloused pads of Tim’s fingers ghost over his stomach, making the muscles twitch.

It all comes back into focus, hitting him like a freight train, when the hand on Tim’s leg can’t wander any farther up than it already has even though he knows he’s nowhere near his ultimate end goal. Cracking open his eyes, Jason looks down to see Red Robin forming a blockade to preserve Tim’s chastity. Red Robin doesn’t get to mastermind them into a bed together then dictate what they do when Tim’s making those encouraging, willing little noises.

Leaning back to catch his breath, Jason reluctantly lets go of Tim’s leg and scruffs the Red Robin suit then tosses it over the side of the bed with a growl.

“That was uncalled for,” Tim tells him.

“You want me to stop?” Jason asks.

“No. Very much no.”

“Then it was called for,” Jason asserts.

“Fair enough,” Tim laughs. He huffs as his eyes dart from one side of the bed to the other. “It’d be weird to do anything with the suits here though.”

“They literally fondle us on a nightly basis. I think their definition of propriety is a little different from ours,” Jason points out.

Looking thoughtful, Tim says, “Huh, I knew the Red Hood suit was chafing weird when I wore it.”

Leaning over, Jason slaps his helmet and shoves his bag under the bed. “Goddamn dirty dog, keep your kevlar weave off.”

The Red Hood doesn’t make a peep or put up any protest. Jason doubts it’s because the suit wore itself out being more active than usual. Stupid thing probably doesn’t have a good counter argument, having been caught out and ruthlessly thrown under the bus by Tim.

“In its defense, it really made things easy and protected me well. It was, sweet, too, I guess?” Tim offers.

“Well, good,” Jason replies lamely. “Can’t say the same about Red Robin,” he adds with a glare at Tim’s side of the bed where Red Robin is hopefully puddled on the ground and content to stay there.

Meddlers, the both of them. Grade A meddlers of the highest order.

“Yeah,” Tim says contemplatively.

To poke the bruise one more time, Jason tells him, “Yanno, the suit’s probably something special because you’re something special.”

The sappy ass words make Jason feel like the world’s biggest tool but it’s worth it for the instant flush. His cheeks and ears and neck all go a delicious pink that Jason wants to bite at. Take the light dusting and make it vibrant. Create a portrait of deep reds and purples wherever he can. Jason thinks he’ll get the chance to do that sooner than expected when Tim tackles him. After a brief scuffle, Jason rolls them so Tim’s under him with his wrists pinned and legs draped on either side of Jason’s hips. Tim could get out of the hold. Jason isn’t trying to really keep him down.

But Tim doesn’t.

He allows it which is enough for Jason to settle his weight over Tim and forget about the busy body suits probably basking in smug satisfaction for getting them to this point.

#tim drake #jason todd #dc comics #jaytim #dc #red hood #red robin #timjay #wicked writes #this is for you bonbon ;3 #I was in a mood this morning while writing and I think that unfortunately carried over

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bcacstuff · 23 hours ago

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From Outlander to intrepid hiker to whisky distiller, Sarah Tucker meets a warrior spirit in actor and entrepreneur Sam Heughan…

There is something of the poet adventurer in Sam Heughan, the actor best known for his eleven-year tenure as the handsome Jacobite warrior Jamie Fraser in the series Outlander, who meets and falls in love with time-travelling 20th-century nurse Claire Beauchamp, played by Caitriona Balfe.

Meeting him, albeit over a zoom call, I get the feeling this is a man who never sits still, is eternally curious about life, has boundless intellectual as well as physical energy – a doer who enjoys getting his hands dirty.

“I don’t think Fraser would like me,” Heughan commented recently, “He would consider me a stupid actor.” I disagree. When Heughan speaks about his life, and work, he shows a keen sense of purpose, practicality and determination. He shows a wit and versatility which makes him resourceful. All qualities of which Jamie Fraser would approve.

Heughan’s deep-rooted passion for Scotland and all things Scottish is evident in how his face lights up when he describes the mysterious landscapes he has encountered while working on Outlander and Men in Kilts. The images he conjures are visceral.

“My uncle, for a time, lived on the Isle of Eigg, and there’s a group of Islands, Muck, Mull, Rum, really interestingly-named places, lying south of Skye. My family would visit every summer; catch a ferry across to the Isle of Eigg and see the landscape completely differently. Once we hit the North Sea, I would feel like an explorer. The Ferry was the only way to get around before the [English] military built the roads. The clans controlled the ocean.”

From the standing stones of Clanais on the Isle of Lewis, where Outlander was filmed to the Schiehallion, one of Scotland’s most popular munros, he seems bewitched by the legends as much as the energy surrounding these places

Although he admits the final chapter on Outlander left a void in his schedule (the crew became like a family, the wrap party was held outdoors with bagpipes and a ceilidh), in December he will be in Nepal, trekking up Everest to Base Camp (the hard way) with acclaimed mountaineer Jake Norton. He met Norton while preparing for a role in a film about the explorers Stanley Irvine (1902 – 1924) and George Mallory (1886 – 1924), whose ill-fated attempt on Everest has gone down in history. Norton was on the team that found Mallory’s remains in 1999. Irvine’s partial remains were only found earlier this year.

“We will be trekking through a lesser-known valley that no one has ever been to before, which will mean reaching a 19,000-foot ridge and rappelling down into the valley, so that will be quite an experience. I’m terrified, but I have a great respect for that mountain. I am not doing this for television or film – I am just doing this for myself.”

Heughan’s voice is as smooth as his whisky. His latest venture is his multi-award-winning whisky and gin, ‘The Sassenach’, the Gaelic word for ‘outsider’. He feels he is an outsider to the industry, but the idea behind the name seems to have emerged from his mother, who is an English artist and was called ‘Sassenach’ when she arrived in New Galloway, and in Outlander, Jamie Fraser calls his wife Sassenach as s term of endearment. “The name is very special to me,” he tells me.

“Five years back, I travelled a lot, and I remember being in a bar in London. It was a Scottish celebration of some sort – St Andrews Day or perhaps Burns Night. There was a single malt on the bar’s top shelf, and as soon as I tasted it, it reminded me of Scotland. I have an emotional reaction to it, but with other spirits, less so. It made me feel quite homesick. It is Scotland in a bottle…it is personality in a bottle.”

Watching Heughan talk about the whisky, the research which goes into it, the foibles of flavour, which leaving it outdoors, or adding water or ice to it, has on the ABV (alcohol content), it is clear he enjoys learning about the alchemy of the blending possibly even more than he does enjoy drinking the final product. He talks of the influence of the terroir and water, how he likes the taste to weigh heavy on the palate, and the influence of Asian whisky on the final blend with its balance of butterscotch, honey, crab apple, rhubarb, which reminds him of picking the fruit from his mother’s garden.

Something of the ghost of Jamie Fraser has lingered in this entrepreneur. As Heughan admits himself, he has been playing someone else for eleven years, and observing him talk about Scotland and The Sassenach brand, he appears to have captured some of that warrior spirit. Or perhaps, it is the other way round, and he injected his own spirit into the character.

Sam Heughan reached Everest based camp on Friday 20th December.

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5a-alf · 15 hours ago

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The more i think about my experiences in military school, the more i realize the ravens were probably run similarly (if with a harder lean on the cult part) so i wanted to make a post explaining how quickly and even just how new ravens fell into group mentality.

[[Disclaimer: i think my experiences are like,, quite similar to some of what happened in the nest to the general raven but for them is like upped to 200%. We can argue the army is type of cult but not one as tightly run as the ravens probably were]]

The answer to the first is: pretty quickly. Let's say, a month is enough. After that first month, if you were to take them out of the environment they'd be quickly fine again, but they'd already be familiar with the mentality and would follow it if left in the nest. Different kinds of people react differently to the same conditions, but i do think Tetsuji choose ravens also based on their personalities/character, because each year only 4/5 people got into his team out of the thousand kids that play exy in high school, so he could choose for talent but also for drive and ability to listen to orders ecc. This eliminates the hardest type to break down, which is people who are naturally oppositional (like,,, any fox for example). He's looking for good soldiers.

Then, you are now allowed in this super niche private luxury club; there's only other 3 new people. One of them is now your partner forever and ever. What happens? You give EVERYTHING you have to be better than the other duo. That's only natural, there's a first place and a last place because only two couples are in this race; you need to win. What do you do to get better? You look for guidance in the older people around you. Some will ignore you, some will engage with you, but always with an air of superiority. You yourself are somewhat struck by their presence, as maybe you saw them play on television before, or speak in interviews.. you know of them, and that already puts you a step under them. That's power that they hold over you.

Now. There's rules in the nest. Do you think they were written? Do you believe for a minute that the new ravens were given a brief the first week, to let them know all about what is and isn't allowed? No. The rules are silent. You notice them because you can't miss the punishment that inevitably happens when you break them.

You sit in the wrong chair - someone screams at you.

You use the wrong tshirt - someone beats you up.

Well, now you won't sit it in the chair anymore, or use that tshirt in that specific instance, but you know what else you won't do? Sit in any chair you haven’t sat in before. Wear a tshirt you haven’t yet worn.

It takes that little.

Then with time comes confort. Months go by and now you now most of the rules, you're fine. Then you reach your second year, and there's new people... who will teach them the rules? You. Especially if they sit in the chair that is specifically reserved for second years. That's yours. And you feel you've earned it by making it through the year; that's a rule, isn't it? And you have a lot of pent up anger, because you are juggling school and training and you haven't had a pause in more than a year, you haven't seen your family or your pet or your old friends.

You yell. You beat them up.

The funny thing is, even when you just follow the rules to keep the peace, do it "ironically", to avoid having problems, at some point... it comes naturally. You get more and more comfortable with what you once found wrong, or not even wrong, but probably pretty stupid. Because the thing it: it's easier to oppose things that are glaringly wrong. You don't start teaching a new raven how to prey on kids. You start with something that maybe makes no sense, but also has no consequences, especially moral ones.

Why wluld you fight so hard for a chair. You can have another. It's not even that comfortable. It's not worth being yelled at. Just leave the chair.

And then, slowly, it escalates.

And the more time you spend inside, the more you let go on any of the hangups you had outside, because it genuinely starts to feel as a different world, where different societal rules are in place, and when you literally do no engage with the outside world for years... you forget how it used to be. You forget who you used to be.

Being there rewards you.

The more time passes, the more power you acquire. Now you can even invent new rules, as you like. It goes to your head fast.

There's so much more i can expand on, 1) shared pain 2) what happens after you graduate 3) what roles do the adults have in all of this 4) relationships (yes, same as the ravens, we were also not allowed to have romantic relationships; there were consequences ecc) 5) REHEARSALS AND GROUP MOVEMENT 6) public outings and perception.... and i could go on and on.

Let me know if you want me to expand on anything in particular

#aftg #eau ravens #edgar allan university #not named but like..#jean moreau #kevin day #riko moriyama #perfect court!au #edgar allan ravens #cult mentality #ravens lore #i can go into heavy detail #should i?

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whatsaterrarium · 2 days ago

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I understand the message of this post and agree for the most part but it is genuinely troubling that all of our ideas of “self-care” for women are predominantly based on their appearance. It feels like a pervasive faux-feminist rebranding of “retail therapy”, and the exact people selling skincare products and marketing make up tutorials to young women are the same people who profit directly off of young women feeling ugly or lacking self esteem.

Obviously there are women who genuinely enjoy these things; who find genuine joy and comfort in getting their nails done and playing with fun make up looks, I know that and that is obviously in no way a moral failing, but we have to be very careful lest we fall into the trap of “making yourself more aesthetically pleasing” = “self care”.

Our society expects women to look and behave in a certain way; while it’s great if you want to and have the ability to abandon these expectations, so many women are unable to without having the way they are treated in their day to day lives severely affected and that is unfortunately a very real struggle. Because of this, it is crucial that we work on not allowing culturally constructed ideas of beauty determine our sense of self worth. The oversexed photoshopped capitalist ideal of “beauty” is not the only way to be beautiful, but more importantly, not being beautiful does not make you worth any less. If you are the furthest thing from “conventionally attractive”, you are still a person with strengths, skills, and worth.

By all means, if putting make-up on truly makes you happy, then do it! But if your idea of self-care is eating that food you know will make you gain weight, or sleeping in a few extra minutes instead of your skin care routine, or putting on your baggiest, ugliest, laziest sweats and getting cozy, do it.

Coming from a girl in her 20s, it is genuine self care, not self presentation, that will save us.

To all my bitches in their 20s please do not waste this time thinking you're ugly. I'm begging you not to. Try not to speak unkindly of yourself, try to do things FOR YOU that are self care. If that's nails, if that's an at home spa day, if that's the full works shower where you shave everything, if that's a hair mask, if it's walking for fifteen minutes or just doing your makeup to wear around the house I don't care what it is do it.

If you continue to fall into bad habits of speaking rudely to yourself, of not believing in yourself it's only going to get harder the older you get. Society is not kind to women, especially not aging women, which we all do. Please I implore you to look in the mirror today and compliment yourself on at least one thing. It can be physical it can be a personality trait you have, anything but you have to look yourself in the eye and you have to mean it.

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mortalityplays · 2 days ago

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Does it seem like Infinity Nikki is building on the lore in the previous games, or is it doing its own thing? It's been a few years since I played Love Nikki Dress-up queen, and all of the proper nouns seem to be different than I remember.

Okay let's talk about Nikki lore!!!

if you've come straight from Love Nikki, Infinity Nikki probably feels strikingly different and yet eerily familiar. It presents itself as a clean slate for new players and a straight reboot for returning players, with Nikki and Momo encountering a magical outfit and being pulled into Miraland where they learn a whole new set of terms and mechanics for the dress-up game you're about to play. All the proper nouns have changed - 'styling power' is still the same, but now magic and tech are 'whim' and base currency is 'blings' etc. The story, setting and characters are all a little different too. So it's a total reboot for the new format, right? Makes sense.

TL;DR: for everything I'm about to unpack:

Doylian answer: IN is a clean reboot of the basic isekai premise, allowing them to easily onboard new players and update the core nature of the game.

Watsonian answer: the reboot is itself part of the ongoing canonical lore of the Nikki series!!!

The context you're missing is Shining Nikki. SN actually pulled this move first - it was a total overhaul of LN to move the series from 2D paper doll graphics to full 3D models, and like IN it seemed to begin the isekai type story of LN again from the start. Not too many people in english speaking markets played the first two games in the series (Nikki Up2U and Hello Nikki), but what you need to know about them is that they were both set in Nikki's own earth-like world, where fashion was an ordinary element of everyday life (i.e. the player was asked to dress her appropriately for real-world situations, with the context that she was an aspiring fashion student). They were also direct instalments in an ongoing story.

Here's the timeline up to where you stopped:

NU2U: Fashion student Nikki and her talking pet Momo practise her skills as a stylist in everyday situations. Though it's usually played as a joke, both Nikki and Momo acknowledge that he's a 'cat-like thing' - not really an earth cat.

HN: Nikki and Momo travel their world, finding styling inspiration in different locations / through meeting various characters. Some of the costumes she creates in this game continue to appear through each sequel as lower-level outfits, implying continuity.

LN: The first game that really broke through in english-speaking markets, and the first in the Miraland cycle. Nikki is preparing for graduation, when she finds a mysterious outfit in the attic. Touching it gives her a vision where she glimpses a strange realm brimming with fashion-related power of some sort. When she comes to, she and Momo are in a field of flowers. They've been transported to another world called Miraland, where styling has literal magical power that's used to settle disputes in place of violence. She embarks on a quest to attain a set of uniquely powerful dresses at the centre of a burgeoning magical/political crisis, in order to save Miraland.

^ Big sideways jump, right? The Doylian explanation for all this is very mundane. They have to keep rebuilding this game for newer phones, and updating the graphics/mechanical gameplay as the series goes on. There are only so many times you can ask a player to dress Nikki up to go to a café or whatever, and the isekai genre is massively popular among the target playerbase. BUT they retain the canonical continuity of the series with LN - Nikki frequently refers to her sister Yoyo and their travels around the world throughout LN and SN, and Momo hints that Miraland may be the origin of his clan (or at least tied to their origin somehow). It would have been an easy place to wipe the slate clean, but they didn't.

And then comes Shining Nikki. On starting the game, Nikki speaks to you directly from a meta-realm where you set up your username and get introduced to basic concepts. Nikki has an encounter / vision with a mysterious figure related to this styling meta-realm, and then she wakes up. She and Momo find themselves in a field of flowers, in a world called Miraland - sstop me if you've heard this one before.

SN is where things started to get really interesting, and where I suspect the writers started laying down some intentions for the series going forward. As Nikki travels around Miraland, she runs into a variety of people and places that are reminiscent of, yet different from, the cast and setting of Love Nikki. And little by little, she begins to recover memories of that game.

As it build towards its climax, SN does one of the coolest things I've ever seen from a rinkydink fantasy mobile gacha. Nikki comes up against an opponent she can't beat, and you're asked to style-battle them again and again. She starts to dissociate and refuses to back down, and then- well at this point my phone couldn't handle the 3D effects and it booted me back to the game's home screen.

SN was pretty ambitious with its 3D elements, to the point that the home screen itself featured a 3D nikki you could dress up, who would move around and strike poses, and spit out lighthearted quips when you tapped her ('I wont give up on my friends!', 'If Momo eats any more BBQ he's going to turn into a beach ball...' etc.) So anyway, my game was locked up apart from homescreen Nikki's idle animations. And then she started talking to me, by username, commenting on the defeat she was suffering repeatedly in the story chapters.

At this point, SN introduces the idea that the player is (from Nikki's perspective) a powerful being from another parallel world, who has been influencing her styling choices the whole time. It also introduces a meta-meta-realm where outside observers can access people's memories to subtly alter their world's timeline. When I say this game got high concept...they had a limited-time event at one point where Nikki essentially explores the lingering cognitive dissonances left behind by the inhabitants of Omelas. I'm insane about this series. Anyway.

A LOT went on in SN, but what you need to know is this:

Nikki learns that she found herself in the story of SN because she went back in time 600+ years from the events of LN in a last ditch effort to prevent the apocalypse she failed to avert.

By accessing the Ocean of Memories, she also learns that this is not the first time she's done this. She has been stuck in a time loop for thousands upon thousands of cycles, perpetually failing to save Miraland, going back in time, and creating new causal offshoots that she again fails to save.

Nikki realises that by doing this, she is perpetually rebooting the lives of all the friends she keeps meeting and bonding with and then failing to save, and wrestles with whether this is ethical. Ultimately she decides to persist, determined to save Miraland.

Now here's the million-dollar question: Is Infinity Nikki a straight reboot, wiping the slate clean to simplify the lore and onboard new players? Or is it a continuation of Nikki lore to date, setting her on a new cycle in the same sequence? I would answer: yes and yes.

Every game in Miraland seems to follow a certain pattern with minor changes, and IN is no exception:

Nikki arrives in a tutorial zone themed around cosy rural villages and flower fields.

She meets a friendly girl who introduces her to Styling and its role in Miraland, and who puts her on the path to her first set of competitions (rip Bobo greatest anime betrayal of all time)

Nikki gets drawn into a political crisis centred on Miraland's system of styling contests, inevitably involving mercenaries and corporate espionage at some point.

Reference is made to an ancient fallen monarch who had a personal connection to certain outfits of immense power.

Reference is made to an elusive but powerful spiritual being (a god, a prophet, ???) whose divine power is bound up with the mysterious source of Styling Power.

Nikki encounters a reclusive society of magical beings whose life force depends on that same power source.

She travels to a variety of regions including Fairytale Forest, Gothic Lolita Town, Literally China, Uncomfortable Desert Realm, Big City, and Separatist Tech Freak Island. [in progress]

War breaks out somewhere and Nikki ends up on the run [hasn't happened yet, but I believe]

Vampires/demons get involved [hasn't happened yet, but I believe]

There is a goofy yellow mascot that looks like a fat duckling. [I'm a Gifty truther, what does it all mean.]

So far we're only a few chapters into IN, but I can already see a lot of familiar pattens starting to take shape. Factions are an interesting twist on regional styling competitions, and elements like Eureka and the Mira Crown contest (and the repeated motif of mirrors and fragmented crystals) look a lot like the seeds of more meta-realm content to me. Well, and the actual literal meta-realms accessed via waypoints and whimstars.

If you read all this, well done!!! You are definitely insane enough to enjoy the Nikki series.

#10000 words about a dressup game

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