#Numerical rows in Excel

[sharingknowledgewithmouli]

Excel Row Counting: How to Count Text, Numerical, Blank and Data Rows Using Functions

Excel Row Counting: How to Count Text, Numerical, Blank and Data Rows Using Functions

Excel is one of the most widely used spreadsheet applications in the world and it is easy to see why. Its powerful features and flexible tools make it an indispensable tool for businesses and individuals alike. One of the most basic tasks in Excel is counting rows, but this seemingly simple task can actually be quite complex. In this tutorial, we will show you how to count the number of rows in…

[subjectgenesis7days]

WELCOME TO THE WORLD SUBJECT GENESIS

GENRES: Sci-fi, Mystery, Supernatural thriller, Action

CONTENT WARNING: Blood, Swearing, Violence, Suggestive content

You awaken in a cold, sterile chamber. You have no memory of your past or how you got here. You step into the harsh, fluorescent-lit facility, you realize that you are alone. Rows of identical chambers line the walls, yet each and every one is empty.

You are Subject Genesis, the result of an ambitious and secretive experiment by the Seven Day Corporation. For years, the corporation has been conducting tests, manipulating the human mind and body, augmenting you with powerful enhancements. Your existence is their most significant achievement, an amalgamation of genetic perfection and technological prowess.

The door to the room slowly opens, one singular scientist standing in the door way. They smile at you with pride before opening their mouth to say...

"Welcome to the world, Subject Genesis"

Certainly! Here are descriptions, personality traits, and approximate ages for each of the characters:

Luna Vega (Stealth Specialist):

Age: Late 20s

Description: Luna is a lithe, shadowy figure with ebony hair and piercing emerald eyes. She dons sleek black attire, and her every movement is silent, making her nearly invisible in the darkness.

Personality: Luna is an enigmatic and introverted individual who rarely speaks. She communicates through subtle gestures, hand signals, and encrypted messages. Her dedication to the resistance is unwavering, and she is fiercely protective of her teammates.

Dr. Victor Alden (Corporation Scientist):

Age: Early 30s

Description: Dr. Alden is a bespectacled scientist with graying hair and a perpetually furrowed brow. He wears the lab coat and the Genesis Corporation emblem, but his eyes reveal a profound internal conflict.

Personality: Victor is an intelligent and morally conflicted individual. He is determined to help the Awakened as a way of making amends for his past actions. Despite the risks, he believes in the cause and is willing to take chances to expose the corporation's dark secrets.

Sasha Petrov (Tech Wiz):

Age: Mid 20s

Description: Sasha is a tech-savvy genius with vibrant red hair and a wardrobe of bright and eccentric clothing. She always carries an array of hacking tools and gadgets.

Personality: Sasha is energetic, quick-witted, and known for her playful sense of humor. Behind her playful demeanor, she's a formidable hacker and technology expert who is determined to outsmart the corporation's security systems.

General Eliot Stratton (Corporate Military Leader):

Age: Late 30s

Description: General Stratton is a stern, imposing figure with a chiseled jaw and a commanding presence. He wears a crisply tailored military uniform, adorned with numerous medals.

Personality: General Stratton is ruthless, calculating, and loyal to the corporation. But even while loyal to the corporation he knows what they are doing is wrong.

Miranda Chen (Strategic Planner):

Age: Early 30s

Description: Miranda is a poised and thoughtful leader with long, dark hair and a confident air about her. She dresses in practical clothing suitable for tactical planning.

Personality: Miranda is wise, diplomatic, and forward-thinking. She's the voice of reason within the resistance and excels at strategic planning and problem-solving. She's known for her ability to make tough decisions with grace and poise.

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Ask welcome

[astrum-aetherium]

begging on your knees to go down on henry, like full on crying and whimpering on your knees

there is simply something so helplessly wicked about begging and pleading and reasoning with your partner to pleasure them, for merely their own good, out of the sheer kindness of your heart (and, admittedly, the unbearably fervid stirring in your gut). and do you know what? henry would delight in that a whole lot; he would put that tendency of yours to use so frequently it could be considered routine.

as i've discussed on this blog, i believe him to be someone who isn't exactly in dire need of intimacy, let alone anything of overly sexual nature, wherefore he would be perfectly willing and even eager to tease it out of you for as long as you can bear, as he wouldn't be the one to have launched the initiative (the fact whereof he would use against you shamelessly). in fact, he would urge you to the limits of your sanity — have you teetering around them sheepishly, and you'd still follow his every order. plus, we know he has that elitist urge to force people into submission with his charm and imposition, so this is only an added ego polishing for him. painfully true, and yet too good not to give in to. he would 100% have a thing for degradation, and who are you not to play into that? antithetically, it would be an utter sin not to do so.

as for a specific scenario, i'm thinking it would have to take place during the late hours of a day which has left you feeling useless and idle, with you merely being set on doing what you know and have numerously proven to excel at: pleasuring henry. he, on the other hand, would have to be in one of his more sullen, stern moods — more rigid than usual, perhaps even angered — in order to elicit that acrimony, that torment out of him. he'd have to be so utterly spent emotionally that he would abandon his studies for the night, and instead merely linger, sunk in an armchair, nursing a tumbler with scotch that is considered far too expensive for a university student. he will have just finished his third cigarette in a row, when you, all class and dignity at first, would initiate, “is there anything i can do for you?”

of course, the inquiry would be vague enough not to immediately translate as being of lascivious fashion (even though that would be your honest and admitted goal), and he would simply scoff in response, if offer any answer at all. this is when you'd approach, maybe adding a pinch of suggestiveness to your air by innocently undoing the topmost button of your blouse and gracefully lowering yourself into his lap. he wouldn't flinch nor try to remove you in any way, though express his distaste differently: having briefly drunk, he'd scrutinize you fiercely, and maintain that strict expression one could easily crumble under after a certain amount of time. you'd wiggle in your seat, then, and your intentions would be clear.

this is when he'd say, “i do not like this backward strategy of getting your way by asking for something you so clearly seem to want.”

“henry—” you'd want to put forth an argument, maybe even try to charm him into thawing for you, and reach out your palm to slide up his thigh, and yet, to no avail, as...

“no touching,” he'd interject firmly, gaze fixed, “in fact, get off me. humor the floor with your crude ideology instead.” the command would be sudden, not entirely surprising, and thrilling at once — you'd do precisely as said, scramble to your knees before his spread legs, and fold into a position so small and passive that it would immediately translate to him as an act of submission. nonetheless, it simply wouldn't do.

“if there is something you want, you can try to appeal to me for consideration.”

for this precise reason, you'd begin: lightly at first, holding back for the most part, half-heartedly at best. as a reaction to multiple sequences of rejections, one more blunt and striking than the other, however, you'd soon enough be reduced to a begging, blubbering, sobbing mess for him. your make-up would be ruined before you'd even as much as laid a finger on him — or he on you — with your eyelashes stuck together as a doll's and your face aglow in the dim light, upsettingly. and still, he'd string you along, growing more and more derisive each time, more hurtful, more harsh — “can't you do better than that?” — which would affect your act tremendously. you'd sit there, restless and needy, with streaks of tears, some dry and some being drawn in real time, gasping for some of the tension-thick air and whimpering for him to have mercy on you. the situation would only be exacerbated by the fact that all the while, you would be able to see the clear, prominent, swollen outline of his hardness in his strained slacks, and instinctively grow even more frustrated with the realization he would deny both of you this kind of pleasure — until he wouldn't, and the permission to do so would finally glide from his lips.

you wouldn't need to be told twice, then. the tears of pleading would dry, only to be replaced by new ones, except this time for an entirely different reason — a reason you'd shed them for more gladly, in all honesty. and in the end, it will have been worth it. especially worth the deep kisses he'd place upon you after pulling you up by your face and folding you back into him upon his lap as a crooked rendition of gratitude.

[visit-new-york]

The Mall

The Mall in Central Park is a famous and iconic feature of this renowned urban park located in the heart of Manhattan, New York City. It is a tree-lined promenade, often described as a "grand boulevard," that stretches for approximately 40 feet wide and 0.25 miles long. The Mall runs through the center of Central Park, offering a picturesque and serene setting for visitors. Here are some key details about The Mall:

Design and Landscape: The Mall was designed in the 1850s by the park's creators, landscape architects Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux. It was intended to provide a peaceful and contemplative walkway that contrasts with the surrounding bustling city streets. The design includes a double row of American elm trees that create a leafy canopy overhead.

Scenic Beauty: The most striking feature of The Mall is its canopy of American elm trees, which arch over the pathway, creating a natural tunnel. The lush green canopy provides shade during the summer months and a stunning display of autumn foliage in the fall.

Historical Significance: The Mall is one of the original features of Central Park, dating back to the park's inception in the 19th century. Its historical significance lies in its role as a tranquil retreat within the bustling city, fulfilling the vision of Olmsted and Vaux.

Literary and Cultural Associations: The Mall has been featured in numerous films, television shows, and works of literature, adding to its cultural significance. It often serves as a backdrop for romantic scenes, leisurely strolls, and outdoor performances.

Statues and Sculptures: At the southern end of The Mall stands a statue of Christopher Columbus, unveiled in 1892. The Mall also includes statues of famous literary figures, such as William Shakespeare and Sir Walter Scott, as well as plaques featuring quotes from their works.

Activities and Events: Throughout the year, The Mall hosts a variety of events and activities. These can include art installations, concerts, outdoor performances, and cultural festivals. The pathway is often filled with musicians, artists, and street performers showcasing their talents.

Wedding Photography: Due to its romantic atmosphere and picturesque setting, The Mall is a popular location for wedding and engagement photography. Many couples choose to capture their special moments amid the elegant backdrop of the tree-lined promenade.

Four Seasons: The Mall offers a different experience in each season. In the spring, the elm trees sprout new leaves, creating a lush green canopy. In the fall, the changing leaves create a breathtaking display of autumn colors. During the winter, The Mall can be particularly enchanting when covered in snow.

Access and Location: The Mall is easily accessible by foot from various points within Central Park, making it a central and popular destination for park visitors. It is located near other notable landmarks such as Bethesda Terrace, the Central Park Zoo, and the Central Park Conservatory Garden.

Artistic Inspiration: The Mall has been a source of inspiration for countless artists, photographers, and writers. The atmospheric beauty of the tree-lined pathway and the changing seasons make it a captivating subject for creative expression.

Fitness and Recreation: While The Mall is primarily known for its leisurely strolls and cultural activities, it also provides an excellent space for various recreational activities, including jogging, yoga, and tai chi. The wide pathway and serene surroundings make it an ideal place for outdoor exercise.

Wedding Ceremonies: Beyond photography, The Mall is a popular choice for outdoor wedding ceremonies due to its romantic ambiance and picturesque backdrop. Couples often choose to exchange vows beneath the elegant canopy of elm trees.

Cross-Country Skiing: During the winter months when Central Park is covered in snow, The Mall transforms into a cross-country skiing destination. It offers a serene and snow-covered landscape for winter sports enthusiasts.

Quiet Reflection: Amidst the activities and events, The Mall provides moments of quiet reflection. Many visitors come here to find solitude, read a book, or simply enjoy a peaceful pause from the demands of city life.

Birdwatching: Central Park is a haven for birdwatchers, and The Mall is no exception. The combination of trees and open space attracts a variety of bird species, making it an excellent spot for birdwatching.

Educational Opportunities: The Mall's natural setting and historical significance provide opportunities for educational programs and guided tours. Visitors can learn about the park's history, ecology, and the significance of its design.

Horse-Drawn Carriages: Visitors can often spot horse-drawn carriages offering rides along The Mall and other parts of Central Park. It's a charming and nostalgic way to explore the park while taking in the scenic beauty.

Public Art Installations: Central Park frequently hosts temporary art installations, and The Mall is no exception. These installations can include sculptures, art exhibitions, and interactive displays, adding an artistic dimension to the natural surroundings.

Access: The Mall is wheelchair and stroller accessible, ensuring that visitors of all mobility levels can enjoy this iconic feature of Central Park.

In summary, The Mall in Central Park is a multifaceted destination that caters to a wide range of interests and experiences. Its natural beauty, cultural significance, and seasonal transformations make it a beloved and enduring part of Central Park's charm, providing both New Yorkers and visitors with a tranquil and enchanting urban escape.

[st-kitten]

“cinnamon girl"

MIGUEL O'HARA x READER warnings: none that disastrous, mention of piercings, biting and blood (harmless, but hot) words: 2,598

Miguel is busy working, trying to focus on tasks at hand when you walk in the office space and suddenly, all he can think about is why you smell so good. He can’t get your fragrance out of his mind, which drives him to give in to his infatuation…

As Miguel sat diligently at his desk in the bustling headquarters of the Spider Society, he immersed himself in his work. Surrounded by the hum of activity and the glow of computer screens, he focused intently on the tasks at hand. With his attention fixed on the reports and footage in front of him, Miguel was determined to meet his self-imposed deadlines and excel in stabilising the multiverse.

Behind him, Jess and Gwen discussed their latest mission. As radiant as ever, Jess flaunted her expertise on Gwen, who absorbed every last detail with admiring eyes gawking at her. Somewhere in the corner, Pavitr and Hobie lurked in the shadows, contemplating yet another political firecracker Hobie had ignited between the two. Peter sat on one of the couches, exhausted from having to run after Mayday, who had been confined to her seat surrounded by a labyrinth of webs. The hubbub was lively, and somewhat productive.

Miguel hoped for a break in the stagnancy. He reminded Lyla to send alerts to everyone, instructing them to work, but to no avail. It seemed that everyone had taken one long break. Well, everyone except Miguel, who had not rested for two whole nights, his eyes half-lidded and brow tensed.

But amidst the controlled chaos of the office, something unexpected disrupted his concentration. A delicate fragrance, sweet and intoxicating, began to waft through the air, catching the attention of his spidey senses like a gentle whisper. The scent was so enchanting, so captivating, that it transported his thoughts to a place far removed from the monotony of his workplace. The aroma of cinnamon, coconut, and vanilla trickled through his nose and smudged his mind into a fog of nothing.

Intrigued by the allure of the aroma, Miguel glanced around, trying to discern its origin. He followed the scent with his senses, his focus shifting away from the computer screen and onto the ethereal fragrance. It seemed to be emanating from the far end of the office, teasing him with its enigmatic presence.

You walked in, eyes fixed on your iPad, tapping away furiously, as if racing towards the finish line. You could barely see what or who was in front of you and bumped into Gwen, pushing her into Jess, which Gwen obviously didn't mind.

"Honey, watch where you're going, yeah? One of these days, you're going to leap of some edge..." Jess muttered affectionately.

Redirecting yourself, you began walking in the other direction, almost missing the corner of the coffee table, which Peter managed to cover and soften with a blob of web.

Miguel watched you from his vantage point, wading through the numerous obstacles, including Pavitr and Hobie who had managed to hold themselves in some unsolicitedly intricate Yoga pose. As if under a spell, his mind wandered, captivated by the intoxicating scent that seemed to possess a magnetic pull over him. His eyes glazed over you, no longer registering the rows of desks or the symphony of typing keyboards. Instead, his imagination conjured images. Images he never would've visualised were it not for the fact that after all these months of you working for him, he hadn't notice how beautiful you were. Was it your perfume? Or did it just take him this long to fully notice you.

Miguel had spent countless hours working side by side with you. You shared the same office space, exchanged occasional pleasantries, and collaborated on projects. You'd helped him analyse data and organise it. He had never seen you. He simply took you for another helper. You, a human, hired for your impeccable work ethic and skills, were simply a resource to him. But all that changed when he saw you in your element. Did you always smell this great?

It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a captivating sight he had somehow overlooked. Your silky, flowing hair cascaded gracefully through a ponytail, framing a face that radiated warmth and intelligence. Your eyes, deep and expressive, looked so sensual whenever they focused on something. The way you would bite your lip when you came across information you didn't understand, the way you'd tuck strands of hair behind your face, but they'd never stay there, the was your neck arched to look up at the screens, revealing your collarbones and the pearls that rested on them, the way your loose buttoned up tops would slightly give away the view inside, the way your your trousers hugged your curves perfectly, the arch of your feet when you took off your shoes to sit comfortably on the couch now made Miguel mesmerised and entranced. He marvelled at how he had been blind to this captivating presence for so long, consumed by the mundane routines of their shared workspace.

As Miguel watched you interact with colleagues, he noticed the genuine kindness that infused your conversations. You effortlessly put others at ease with your compassionate words and infectious laughter. The more he observed, the deeper he fell under your spell, unable to tear his eyes away from your captivating aura.

Yet, even as his heart soared, doubt crept in. Miguel wondered if his sudden infatuation was a fleeting illusion, a trick played by his own desires. Maybe he was just exhausted and needed to sleep.

Shaking his head, he forced himself to look away from you and went back to work. Surely the multiverse was more important than his momentary crush on you.

As the day wore on, Miguel's infatuation with you continued to grow, his thoughts consumed by your presence. Feeling the need for a brief respite, he decided to take a quick water break, hoping to clear his mind and regain focus. He made his way to the lobby, where a small coffee cart stood, offering a momentary escape from the office routine.

As Miguel approached the cart, his attention was diverted by a figure standing nearby. It was you, engaged in a conversation with another colleague. Something about your demeanour caught his eye, a certain grace that commanded attention.

"Ay, dios mío, por favor..." he mumbled to himself, palming his creased forehead.

You looked back, glad to see Miguel out of his seat. You were hoping he would take breaks more often. The man worked for 24 hours. If a day was made up of 38, he would work for 38 hours.

"It's nice to see you out here... in the plebeian world..." you said jokingly, not meaning to practically throw it at his face.

Miguel didn't know whether to reply or to claw away at the walls and escape. Even your voice was a delight to hear. It was like you aroused all five of his senses. Slowly, he made his way to you, hoping to chug the whole water canister and not speak for God forbid what comes out of his mouth if he's left to his own devices.

The colleague who was with you took one look at a fatigued Miguel, said God's name, and chose to march in the opposite direction.

"What would you like? Coffee? Tea? Whatever that green thing is at the back?" you asked.

Your perfume. That's what I'd like, he thought to himself.

"Uh... Coffee."

"Milk and sugar?" you asked sweetly.

"Just throw it in," he said. He couldn't take it anymore. The alluring scent of your perfume, it enveloped Miguel's senses, and he couldn't help but inhale deeply, the fragrance permeating every fibre of his being. It was a fragrance so intoxicating, so enticing, that it seemed to possess a magical quality.

He gave in to that tiny part of him and stepped closer, standing behind you, watching you press the buttons on the coffeemaker. AS gently as he could, he lowered his head and breathed in. The combination of cinnamon, coconut, and vanilla in her perfume was an intoxicating symphony that danced around Miguel's senses, leaving him spellbound and yearning for more.

The warmth of cinnamon caressed his olfactory receptors, infusing him with a sense of comfort and familiarity. The spicy notes seemed to ignite a spark within him, igniting a fire of passion and igniting a newfound energy that fuelled his infatuation.

Coconut, with its tropical essence, added a touch of exoticism to the fragrance. As the scent mingled with the air, it invoked a sense of freedom, inviting him to embrace the spontaneity of life and the possibility of new beginnings.

And then there was vanilla, the sweetest and most alluring note of all. Its creamy and comforting aroma wrapped Miguel in a tender embrace, evoking a sense of intimacy and tenderness. It awakened his senses to the depth of his emotions, stirring a yearning for connection and a longing to explore the depths of his infatuation.

How could a stupid perfume make him act like that?

He regained composure and stepped back slightly. He watched you watch the machine pour coffee in a small cup. His eyes fell on your pierced ears. He got a feeling that you liked pain, in an adventurous way. Four piercings were after all a lot.

"Here," you said, handing him his cup. In his hands, the size of it shrunk dramatically.

Miguel took it, his fingers brushing past yours, which didn't help his plan of resistance at all. With each sip he took of that ridiculously sweet beverage, his need to consume you grew. He clutched the cup tightly, hoping his mind would find something else to focus on. He almost wished an anomaly would come and wreck the room. Lost in thoughts, he held the cup so tightly that it broke into pieces, splashing the coffee around and lo-and-behold, on your top.

"Fuck... I-" before he could apologise, you interjected and began dabbing tissues on your chest.

"That's okay. It happens. With you people. I guess. I think. I concur. I'll just... Go to the washroom," you said.

"Yes. This way," Miguel replied, leading you to the nearest washroom. He had no idea why he was going with her. She knew where it was. Why was he with her?

She opened the door to the washroom, walking over to the basin, leaning over it, and splashed some water on her top.

Unbeknownst to him, Miguel had followed her in and now stood behind her, trying his hardest to pull his gaze away from her chest, which was glistening with water droplets.

"You good?" you asked, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

He couldn't resist the temptation any longer. He reached out and took your wrist in his hand, holding it gently but firmly. He lifted it to his nose and took a deep breath, savouring the scent of her perfume. It was intoxicating, and he felt himself getting lost in it.

"What is this?" he asked.

"What?"

"Your perfume. It's fucking ridiculous. Why does it smell so good?"

You let out a soft chuckle. "It's just a body splash... Why-" you couldn't finish your sentence because of what Miguel started to do.

As he held your wrist, he realised how smooth your skin felt against his fingers. He couldn't resist the urge to touch her more. Slowly, he let go of your wrist and placed his hand on her neck, feeling the softness of your skin. He leaned in, inhaling her scent, and felt a rush of desire wash over him. He was going insane over how good you smelled, how smooth your skin felt against his. Feeling your skin rise with goosebumps satisfied the animal in him. Like a bloodhound, he buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling as much as he could, his hand still tenderly caressing your arm, running his fingertips up and down.

He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but he couldn't help himself. She was like a drug to him, and he was addicted. He felt his self-control slipping away, and he knew that he was in danger of losing everything he had worked so hard to achieve. He tried to pull away, to regain his focus, but it was too late. He had already crossed a line, and he couldn't go back.

"Dios mío, hueles tan bien..." he whispered in your ear, feeling you shudder.

He smiled, and continued whispering sweet nothings in your ear. "Eres tan hermosa. No sabes lo que me estás haciendo, verdad?" He closed his eyes and let his body react to you. He snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you closer and trapping you between the basin and his body.

"I have no idea what you're saying but..." you paused to take a deep breath.

"Mmm? Qué pasó, mi chica canela?" his voice reverberated in your ear like a rattling bass and that silenced you from thinking.

You shook your head, and mumbled, "Nothing... don't stop."

"I don't plan to." He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. You, completely drunk on how Miguel made you feel, responded eagerly, your arms wrapping around his neck as he held you closer.

He couldn't get enough of you, the taste of your lips, the feel of your body against his. As your lips met, a rush of electricity shot through his body. He pulled you closer, leaving next to no space between you, his hands sliding down your back as he deepened the kiss. He untucked your top from your trousers and slowly unbuttoned your shirt.

"Don't throw it on the floor... It's expensive," you muttered in between kisses.

"I'll buy you ten more."

Feeling you smile into the kiss, Miguel growled, his grip on your waist tightening. He was indebted to that coffee stain for he would never have been in this situation were it not for that. As you pulled away for a bare moment, Miguel stared into your eyes, his heart racing. He knew that he was in too deep, that he had gone too far. But he couldn't bring himself to care. All that mattered was you, your scent, your touch, your kiss. He knew that he was putting everything he had worked for at risk, but he couldn't help himself.

"Mierda, quiero morderte, nena..."

"Hmm?" you asked, tilting your head oh so conveniently.

Miguel inhaled sharply and looked up at the ceiling. Did you really just do that? he thought.

He cocked his head and looked down at your innocent face. He wasn't a person who'd ever ask for anyone's permission, but seeing you be so vulnerably beautiful made him do it anyway...

"Can I bite you?"

He half expected you to run away. So, when your eyes glinted with and approving excitement, he was surprised, to say the least. He wasted no time holding your face in his palm and tilting your head, exposing your neck already pampered with his kisses. His dug his fangs into the soft flesh, feeling ecstatic, as if he was transported to another dimension.

All of his senses were heightened. Your perfume, the feel of your skin, you soft gasps, the taste of your blood, and the sight of your figure reacting to him in the mirror, sent Miguel to heaven. You were simply divine.

Miguel O'Hara had never wished for a more opportune break from his work and he was sure to take some more henceforth.

[jonquilyst]

Day 14 - Challenge Day

It's time for the FINAL team challenge! Today, the teams will be building rockets! The first team to finish their rocket and fly it to space will win invincibility and guarantee themselves places in the merge!

The teams started out strong. Everyone wants to make it to the merge, so everyone is trying extra hard today!

Due to the laboriousness of building the rockets themselves (it was actually in-game limitations), only 3 people could work on the rockets at a time, leaving 1 person on the sidelines. But this arrangement proved fruitful in the end because if one working person needed a break (and numerous people did), the resting person could switch out with them and continue building!

The Screaming Llamas were ahead for a while, but the team suffered a delay after numerous people needed to be switched out. In the end, both teams finished their rockets at the same time! IT'S A TIE!

However, the teams still need to actually fly their rockets too. So, there's only one way to settle this tie: the first person to arrive home from space will win invincibility for their team! Camden and Anika were the last people on the sidelines, so they will take the honor of flying the rockets into the cosmos! They race off into the skies together; their teams' fates in their hands.

Camden wins the space race and arrived home first! He wins it for the team and guarantees everyone on the Screaming Llamas a place in the merge!!

THE SCREAMING LLAMAS WIN!

CONGRATUALTIONS, LLAMAS! Despite a rocky start, you guys proved yourselves and have come out as the DOMINANT TEAM, defeating the Cowplants twice in a row and winning more challenges in the end! Excellent work!!

@simsinfinitylt @micrathene-w @prismaticpotentia @akitasimblr @thebramblewood @ashubii @comfyinn @seyvia

[th3-0bjectivist]

Dear listener, I tried listening to six full hours of mainstream radio this week again. I tried, oh, sweet merciful Jesus, I tried. Lo, I have at this point all but confirmed that modern radio is a steaming pool of liquid dogshit. Given a second appraisal, it’s dogshit with a candy-coated hardshell for ease of ingestion! The disheartening repetition, the complete lack of cutting-edge creativity and genuine emotion, ten to twenty ass-ramming commercials in a row only to come back to the feckless frenzy of fail that comprises the vast, vast majority of modern music? It was all terribly grating, and somehow the music was even worse. As soon as I couldn’t take a millisecond more of the doldrums of modern radio, I went to YouTube and listened to two straight and comparatively blissful hours of immortal work by Antonio Vivaldi. So, get into the time machine again with me dear listener, and set course for the early 1700’s, a time when radio didn't exist! The social standards might not have been top-notch, but the powdered wigs were undeniably gorgeous, and the quality of the music… to die for!!!

As anyone who comes from a musical family has likely experienced, Vivaldi had the principles of composition fused to his DNA, and perhaps even down to the subatomic level with the help of his father. Having trained for priesthood in his early years, Vivaldi instead gradually gravitated toward a now celebrated career in music. Becoming an elite level violinist under the tutelage of his father Giovanni Battista, whom he regularly toured Venice and played duelling violins with, this legend of orchestra developed an immense capacity for transforming the basics of music into something so immensely interwoven and sublime that very few can or will ever dare so much as approach the legitimate majesty of his body of orchestral work. Known as something of an Italian religious dogmatist, his calling to the church and desire to be a priest secured him the nickname ‘Il Prete Rosso’ (The Red Priest) because he was a ginger, or in modern politically correct parlance… a natural red head. During a three-decade long gig serving as Master of Violin at an historical Vincentian orphanage, Ospedale della Pietà, Vivaldi managed to gather inspiration and organize his most emotionally powerful compositions. I could probably add a lot of unnecessary details here, but his greatest and most everlasting works are part of his ‘The Four Seasons’, a set of four violin concertos that are meant to express nearly the precise sensations and emotions of summer, winter, autumn, and spring. If you smash play on the above track you will be treated to Presto (from the Summer section), a song you probably know or have heard before. Presto means ‘quickly’ in Italian and is performed at one of the quickest speeds a human can possibly play music (second only to prestissimo speed, I think). Vivaldi also had a strange disease throughout all his life which many historians suspect might have been severe asthma. And with his penchant for taking numerous ‘leaves of absences’ to tour the world and develop an international reputation, this clearly mega-talented rockstar of yester-century ended up spending all the money he earned during his lifetime. Sadly, after approaching the end of his life and skidding through a decade’s worth of career decline, all accounts show that he died completely broke, having spent what little money he had left on multiple assistants that circumnavigated him through his now dire and at the time completely untreatable health issues. Vivaldi isn’t my personal favorite composer of all-time, I’ll leave that distinction to Bach (who himself was inspired by Vivaldi). But his works live on to this very day because he accomplished exactly what he strove to do; embody the excellence of execution in his craft to produce works that bring us together as human beings and sometimes inspire a rare spark of imagination to propel us to create the very best work we can possibly bring forth.

Right above this paragraph is a live variation of The Four Seasons, a classic musical work of art and transcendent beauty that I cannot recommend highly enough. Vivaldi sure did one thing that modern, corporately funded, concentrated and even desperate bands just can’t… and that is actually innovate. He had immense natural technical skills, had them brought to bloom by his family and his own efforts, and he ended up creating over 500 instrumental and choral works, plus about 40 operas. Have *you* created 500 instrumental and choral works and 40 operas!? Didn’t think so. So, get to work on that! And join me next time for some jaunty Brahms. Image source: https://www.craiyon.com/image/dPwZA5VRRTawSH1T9Sslcw

[tmblrcolouredpaper]

hii! i really really loved your holding hands with txt post! I was wondering if you would consider writing an extension/one-shot based off huening kai’s section? I thought it was so so cute and it seems like the perfect idiots/friends to lovers scenario :33 its alright if you dont want to, no worries :))  thanks !!

Content Warning:

alcohol consumption; drunk reader

slightly suggestive; hooking up with strangers hinted/ mentioned

forced intoxication mentioned

invading of privacy hinted

word count: 3 713

'How much time do I have left?', Taehyun shouts from his room, his rushed steps audible to Kai even in the distance of the kitchen. 

'Ten minutes!', Kai yells back and chuckles to himself, amused by his friend's excitement to get out and spend time with people. He always puts a lot of effort into his appearance, intending to seem as attractive as possible while remaining a casual demeanor as if he hasn't just been running back and forth between his room and the bathroom in an abundance of outfit variations and loud contemplations about his choice of perfume. 

Kai prefers his simple jeans and hoodie even for an occasion like an adventurous party. The greatest joy for him will be spending time with his friends, inventing new silly dance moves with Soobin that they can use to beat Yeonjun in every playful dance battle. Not even his excellent skills are able to overpower his involuntary convolution of laughters. Beomgyu's collection of footage will expand wonderful after this night, and once everyone is sobered up, he'll blackmail the shit out of the older men. And then there is also you. 

Kai can't wait to see you again. Life has been busy, and the chance of meeting up has been postponed numerous times until the opportunity of going to this party arose. It isn't Kai's favourite way of encountering you. Sharing the environment with a whole crowd of people makes him feel like he is one of too many that you are talking to. Especially when you are drinking, he has anticipates you chatting up a bunch of strangers. He's rather just spend a calm day with you alone, maybe his friends being present as well, but the uncertainty of whom you might be hooking up with is not on his list of goals for the night. 

The doorbell rings, and a loud shriek sounds from the bathroom. 

'I thought I still have time?', Taehyun shouts in distress, probably pulling at his hair in frustration and also as a reminder to himself of what he intends to feel being done to him later. 

Kai walks over and opens the door, finding you standing there with a tiny bouquet of daisies in your hand. 

'Hi!', you beam and push the flowers towards Kai, your knuckles meeting the soft fabric of his hoodie in front of his chest. Only mere centimetres were missing for him to feel your gesture directly on him. 

He looks at you in confusion, letting out a low questioning hum and hesitantly picks the collection of nature's minuscule beauty from between your fingers. A white lacy bow ties the stems together, and the ribbon's ends fall over his fingers, almost appearing like they are holding onto him with their tender touch. 

'For you. I had to think of you and how much I am happy to see you again when I saw them. I had the ribbon in my hair, but it suits the flowers better', you say and step inside, lurking around Kai to wave at the others, all of them but Taehyun already gathered in the kitchen. 

'Thanks', Kai mumbles and follows you to the counter. Beomgyu is just getting a shot glass from the drawer, but Kai snatches it away, carefully placing the flowers inside. 

'Am I supposed to get drunk on daisies?', Beomgyu grunts and gets another glass that he fills and empties in one go. 

'Oh, you're already starting!', you exclaim happily and direct Beomgyu through the collection of bottles until he has a row of glasses filled with your favourites.

Kai can't comprehend the speed with which you are drinking the various alcoholic drinks, but registers your state when you march over to the bathroom and pull Taehyun along with you to the front door. 

'My hair is not ready yet!', he whines and attempts to get back in front of the mirror, but even though he is well mastered in the skill of complaining, he has no chance to beat your complaining of finally wanting to get to the party. 

'Your hair looks gorgeous, you look handsome, and you smell great. Now get your shoes on and let's go. I am not waiting an hour for you again', you grumble and step into the hallway, urging the rest to follow in an entertained chuckle. 

'You already stuck walking a straight line', Kai whispers when you bump into him for the fourth time, apologizing eccentrically as if you had pushed him ten meters away. In reality, you fall against him with no more impact than the flowers that you handed him earlier. 

'I'm sorry. I'll just walk over there', you whine and distance yourself a few steps to give Kai space, but he pulls you back by your sleeve, tucking you to his side. 

'Nooo! I have to  make sure you don't run into anything but me', he dramatically gasps and welcomes the feeling of your shoulder shaking in a chuckle against him. He decides to not drink today, prioritizing your care and safety, well aware of the fact that all five men would go lengths to protect you, but his trust in the ability of a bunch of drunk people can't keep up with the trust he has in his sober self. 

'Who's it tonight?', he leans in and asks you, the loud music enthusiastically drowning every spoken word. Kai looks around as he is on your eye level, gets a glimpse of Taehyun strutting over to some women in pretty dresses and shiny hair, and tries to find people who match your checklist of curiosity. 

'Hmmmm, you', you confide and gift him a smile, leaning against his shoulder as you proceed eyeing the mass of dancing people. 

Kai thinks you are joking. It must be that you simply didn't find someone yet. You always get into a conversation with at least one stranger and start laughing with them, leaning against them, holding their hand. At least those are the actions that Kai is able to register. He doesn't look at you throughout the whole night, so he can only imagine how close you get with others when he is not looking. At latest when it is time to go home, you long to him. That is the routine he learned over the years. You get drunk and become more outgoing, clingy, and direct that to people who intrigue for some hours, and then you return to him and continue a past conversation you shared as if nothing happened. 

'You'll return to me anyway. Just go and have some fun', he says, meaning to let you know that he is waiting for you in case you want to leave, but the sentence came out complacent, pretty smug in a way that he didn't know he could sound like.  

'Oh? You're very confident when it comes to me, huh?', you laugh, and the teasing raise of your eyebrows makes him blush. You never looked at him that way. He only ever observed it when you were flirting with someone else. With him, you usually stick to being playful in a rather cute way, laughing like a child as he feels like one himself when he is with you. It is carefree and innocent and even though he does sometimes question his own intentions, whether he might find himself wanting to explore the friendship with you in a mutually committed relation, he always forces his thought to quickly return to reality. He is scared of what would happen if he goes to that place where is with the imaginary you in close proximity that is guaranteeing something different that he has with you right now. He might not be able to return from thinking about you in a less innocent way, and that wouldn't be fair to you, he believes. 

Kai looks away and clears his throat. 

'Didn't mean it like that', he mumbles and occupies himself with sipping on a drink that Yeonjun brought to the table some minutes ago, before he vanished back onto the dance floor, shaking his booty in everyone else's agony that conceals the overall amusement people are too embarrassed to admit when the alcohol level isn't that high yet. 

'You're not wrong', you say and smile, a hint of shyness now also evident on your cheeks. 

'I always think I should go out and meet new people to see if I finally find someone I like, but-'

Kai listens closely, trying to figure out how clouded your mind already is based on your word flow. You speak loud and clear, with less hesitance than he knows you struggle with on a day to day basis. As much as he hates you drinking, knowing that your consciousness becomes blurry, he does believe you benefit from the seldom clarity of speech. It is like your body lacks so much energy that your tongue receives it all to pronounce every word perfectly without a slur of doubt and end every sentence in patience. He enjoys your demeanour changing. He enjoys you demanding attention that you avoid taking up when you're sober. 

He anticipates you continuing to speak. The pause isn't awkward. As you take another sip from the whiskey mix in your cup, he searches for the drink cover scrunchie in his pocket. He hands it over to you and waits until you pull it over the edges, protecting your drink from being harassed by malicious strangers. 

'- every time I talk to someone else, I start to compare them to you', you end your sentence and add a thanks for the cup lid. 

The smile you give him when you realize that he bought and thought of bringing an item that supports your safety causes him to buzz of energy, ready to tackle everything that gets in your way of being anything less than perfectly comfortable. He can't but let out a chuckle, entertained by the contrast of your fast words and slow situational perception. 

'What's there to compare?', he wonders, mumbling more to himself than to directly ask you, but you apparently plan on sticking to your plan of spending the night with him, because you sit down on the bench and tug on his sleeve to signify him doing the same. You take another big sip from your cup and immediately hold your head, a sign of you being incredibly dizzy now. Instinctively, Kai circles his arm around your shoulder and pulls you against him to give your wobbly body stability, restraining you from falling off the wooden surface. 

'I should take a break', you laugh and attempt on lacing the empty cup on the table in front of you, but you miss several times, so Kai takes your wrist and maneuvers your hand into the right direction with the right sense of distance. Another chuckle escapes you, and his heart imitates the rhythm like an echo. 

★~・🩵・~★

You drank more than you planned to, but is it your fault when you had access to some surprisingly delicious drinks? It's not like you are doing this every weekend, so it should be fine, right? Justifying questions bounce through your head as you are trying to put one foot in front of the other to keep up with your friends. Their words and laughters echo gently through the street, and you enjoy how calm they are even after a full night of partying and consuming alcohol. 

'You can't let one party go without chatting up at least two women, can you?', Yeonjun asks Taehyun, who is happily grinning at his phone screen, on which probably messages under the new collection of numbers are appearing. 

'They're gorgeous. I'm gorgeous. They like me. I like them. It would be a waste of experience if mutually interested people ignored each other', he explains and frantically types on his phone. You bet he's incorporating several typos, not only due to excitement. 

'Let me check before you send', Kai pleads and takes Taehyun's phone, the contrast of clouded minds evident based on their movements alone. 

Your own mind is sabotaging any smooth succession of steps, and you are clumsily bumping into Kai's arm. Not knowing how to help yourself, you hold onto him, causing him to stop and look at you with a gentle smile. The others don't register that you two stopped walking. 

'Wanna read?', Kai whispers, tilting the phone screen into your direction. It isn't the most polite thing to do, just leaking Taehyun's chats, but honestly speaking, sooner or later either Taehyun himself would send screenshots into the shared group chat, bragging how wonderful the people he collects happen to be, indirectly sharing how happy he is, or Kai would just sneakily tell you when you two are sitting together exchanging the newest gossip. 

'No, thakns', you slur in a whisper, your head spinning and the ground weirdly unstable. 

'Thakns?', Kai chuckles, gaining awareness of how gone you are. 

Absentmindedly, you tap against his hand, and he looks down at it, wondering what you are pointing at. 

'May I hold?', you ask, desperately looking at him, because you can't think of anything better than holding hands to ground yourself. 

'Ay! Did you just want to steal a phone?', Beomgyu yells from several meters in front of you, and Kai quickly opens his hand and anticipates you, laying yours onto his palm. With a gentle tug, he pushes his fingers between yours and pulls your hand into perfect alignment with his own. He starts walking carefully and observes your ability to follow until you are next to your friends again. 

Kai slips the phone with the corrected messages into Taehyun's hand and laughs at him for making an abundance of absurd typos while you trace your thumb along Kai's warm skin on his soft palm. At one point, you lift his hand to be able to watch the way your finger presses into him because you are fascinated by how warm he is in contrast to your tired freezing body. You have to see that he is real. Besides, it is a great distraction from the fact that you have absolutely no strength to control your body beyond the well trained automatic movements of walking, and even those appear to be a challenge. 

Yeonjun is looking at you weirdly, and you let yourself fall back half a step to be shielded by Kai's frame. You hear a distant chuckle and let your head fall against Kai's arm in embarrassment. He pulls his hand away from yours and hurries to circle his arm around you, offering his hand on the other side of your body for you to take again, while embracing you in maximum stability that he has to offer in this moment. 

The close proximity warms you up, and despite the surroundings appearing blurry and bizarre to your drugged mind, you feel safe and happy. A little giggle slips out of your lips, and as you are pushing yourself a bit closer against Kai to cope with your embarrassment once again, he tightens his embrace with a low chuckle himself. You wonder if the others are able to see you or if they are too deeply invested in their own business right now. However, Kai's warmth and care are too overwhelmingly beautiful for you to worry about much else. He continues talking to the other's as if nothing is going on and in your next moment of consciousness you find yourself in his room whining about just sleeping on the sofa in the living room, not wanting to take up his space.

'If you can let go of my hand and walk over there yourself, I let you sober up alone', he announces and you feel your stubbornness causing you to let go of him, but after only two steps towards the door you stumble and almost hit the floor if Kai hadn't caught you as if he was already waiting for you to trip. 

'M sorry', you sigh ashamed and clutch onto him, believing to not be able to get through the night without him holding onto you. 

'It's okay. It's all good', he assures, and you find his gentle smile welcoming you into a zone of serenity. 

'I shouldn't've drank s'much', you chuckle and help Kai pulling you up by pushing your feet against the floor, an action that feels unfamiliar to you, as if you had to calculate how the surface behaves in regards to your movements against it. 

'Hmmm, you enjoyed yourself', he hums and sits you onto his bed. 

'Let's just make sure you sleep it off', he advises and pulls the blanket back to lay you down.

'I'll make your bed stink', you warn, but he just shakes his head in an amused smile. 

'That's only post sleep relevance. All there is to do now is sleep a bit', he explains and maneuvers you to lay down, pointing at the floor where he deposited a bucket in case you need to throw up and you barely register your own voice when you ask him to sleep next to you because you want to keep holding his hand. You already closed your eyes when he takes up half of the bed, keeping a respectful distance with only his arm extended and his hand covering yours. 

★~・🩵・~★

Kai can't fall asleep, not with you laying so close to him, not when you overdid it so much that not just your body's abilities but also your speaking decreased over the span of hours. The up and down of you sobering up a little, only to get more drunk again, is fun to watch as long as he remains hopeful for you to not suffer too much the next day. He never experienced you having a hangover, but that only resulted in you insisting on being brought home where you sleep it off alone. This time, there is no chance for him to be fine with you being alone, not when you can't even walk by yourself. 

You dozed off in mere minutes, and Kai doesn't know what to do rather than adjusting the blanket around you. He listens to the voice of his friends fading as everyone is making their way to their rooms. The front door opens and closes, and Kai checks his phone only to find the expected message of Taehyun in the group chat that he is going to visit one of his new friends from tonight. 

'You need to sleep, too', he hears you mumbling and turns on his side to catch a look at your scheme in the dark.

'I will', he assures and softly runs his fingertips over your closed eyes, a warm sensation that he knows calms you. He has done it several times when he spent time with you during days you were a bit sick or simply exhausted but tortured by a stressed out mind. 

'When?', you ask in a yawn, and Kai wonders if you were even asleep or if his own mind plays tricks on him. 

'Soon', he responds, determined to wait until you are properly resting first. 

'I'm going to ask you out t'morrow', you sigh, and he hears you nuzzling into the pillow. His mind is definitely playing tricks on him, and he decides when out of nowhere he imagines you nuzzling your sleepy face into his shirt. 

'You don't have to say yes', he listens to your mumble getting more and more silent. 

'Just be prepared for me confessing. You're the sweetest, How could I not?'

He laughs, his breath fanning over your face, and he hopes it doesn't stink too much, but then again, you probably can't even concentrate on something vague as a scent in your state. It is interesting to him that the thought of changing the sheets tomorrow while you take a long shower only to cuddle with you back in bed, getting it to smell like you after all. It doesn't even have to be anything but platonic. He always enjoys a cuddling session with you and the remaining whiff of your presence after you leave. However, now he questions if there might be a day he wants anyone else's presence imprinted into his space. 

'What if I were faster?', he experimentally whispers, observing how he feels verbalizing the existence of the locked up corners of his mind. 

'What if I told you that I can't imagine liking anyone as irrefutable and as securely as I like you? What if-'

Your snoring interrupts his list, and he surpasses a laughter by pressing this face into the mattress until his nose hurts. The sting reminds him to stay quiet as he turns around again, finally allowing himself to fall asleep. He is so close to drifting off completely when he hears your giggle and your tired yet clear whisper.

'I like you, too'. 

It might just be his mind playing tricks, building up dreams already, but maybe he perceived correctly. His body slums against the mattress with no notion of conscious movements for the next hours and when he wakes up to your side of the bed being empty, his closet open and clothes evidently pulled out and the sound of  the shower running, he exchanges the bed sheets with fresh ones. Just like he planned, he proceeds to make his room comfortable. He lies back down and opens the delivery app, daydreaming about the richness of a proper breakfast, and then his mind becomes playful again. This time he lets it wander down the path of the locked up corners, glimpsing into sequences of imaginary scenarios in which you return from the shower and drop down on top of him or him going to pick you up from the bathroom, carrying you back to bed bridal style. He smiles at his thoughts. The anticipation of them being scary, too impactful for his friendship with you, couldn't have been more off. He thinks of the daisies on the kitchen counter and enjoys how traces of you are spread all over his home. With new access of comfort in form of knowledge about himself and his wishes for an ideal reality, he continues waiting for you, full of curiosity about how this day will proceed, grateful to have you in his life regardless of specifics. 

[fitnessnirvana]

UPPER BODY AND ARM HIIT WORKOUT

Do you think spending hours at the gym daily was the only way to increase upper body strength and muscle? Think again. While strength training and progressive overload are important components of gaining strength and size, upper-body HIIT exercises are excellent for raising the load on your back, chest, shoulders, and arms without requiring a significant amount of time.

What Are The Benefits of Upper Body HIIT Workouts?

High-intensity interval training, or HIIT, is a training method that alternates between times of all-out exercise and periods of low-intensity exercise or rest, with a maximum workout duration of 30 minutes. While HIIT workouts do not normally generate as much muscle as weight training, they can still be beneficial, especially if you choose regimens that include various compound movements to keep the muscles engaged.

While HIIT workouts may be less effective in building muscle, they make up for it in other ways. When compared to weight training, HIIT workouts have a greater ability to improve muscle endurance, speed, and power, which can aid in sports performance and even weight lifting. HIIT also increases cardiovascular endurance and burns a large number of calories in a short period.

Are HIIT Workouts Enough For The Upper Body And Arms?

There are numerous advantages to incorporating upper body and arm HIIT workouts into your weekly workout, but depending on your aim, this may not be sufficient on its own. Upper body and arm HIIT workouts can suffice if you want to develop strength, power, and speed while also maintaining a leaner physique. If you can only devote 30-40 minutes to your workouts each day, HIIT workouts are ideal for getting a strong upper-body workout.

If you want to acquire significant upper body and arm bulk, you need also to incorporate weight training. Weightlifting challenges and fatigues the muscles to the point that they must be regenerated, and this process increases muscle size. Combining the two types of exercise is an effective strategy to increase general strength and fitness while also improving body composition. An upper-lower body training split could look like this:

Day 1: upper body workout – weightlifting

Day 2: lower body workout – weightlifting

Day 3: upper body workout – HIIT

Day 4: lower body workout - HIIT

Tips For Creating An Upper Body HIIT Workout:

We've given an upper body and arm HIIT routine to try below, but if you want to create your own workout, here are some pointers to get you started:

Choose complementing exercises. Choose a combination of complex workouts to build strength and cardio activities to improve speed and endurance. Choosing workouts that require the same pieces of gym equipment will make it easier to complete the exercises fast. Push-ups, clean and press, tricep dips, battle ropes, and renegade rows are some of the best upper body HIIT workouts you can do.

2. Begin with something small. Aim for 4-6 exercises with multiple circuits rather than 1-2 rounds of a variety of exercises. This will make it easy to follow, allowing you to focus all of your attention on the exercises and take advantage of the rest intervals rather than having to remember what to do next.

3. Try different times. There are numerous ways to structure your HIIT workout, so experiment with various intervals to determine what works best. For more strength-based exercises, longer intervals may be beneficial to get more reps in, whereas a more cardio-focused workout may benefit from shorter but higher intensity times of exercise and rest.

[francesminos-tt]

Golden retriever boyfriend Daeron and his black cat boyfriend Joffrey

Forgive me for taking the prompt literally. Please enjoy this fun little piece of HP au.

There were numerous rivalries in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The open rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin, the unspoken tension between pureblood and muggle-born, the subtle whispers and looks between pragmatists and those who believed in divination, etc. In the past century, the biggest rivalry was between two fractions of the same pureblood family, the Targaryens, a powerful family from a mysterious land. It was said that they were able to claim the most powerful magical creatures in the world, dragons. Their family motto, Fire and Blood, indicated such inheritance. The Targaryens had queer customs. For example, they were known to marry sisters to brothers, to keep the blood pure, despite the protest of the magic society. The family had been split into two fractions at least two decades ago, and now, the rivalry was at its peak, as new generation of the family had all entered Hogwarts. Whenever there was a fight in the lobby, you bet it involved at least one Targ.

Joffrey yawned as he scribbled whatever words he captured from the professor’s boring monologue down on his parchment. His was so sleepy that his attention span could last no longer than a few seconds, so the words he managed to write down made absolutely no sense.

Arcane algebra. Conditional probability of astrology alignment. Matrix.

Why on earth had he chosen Arithmetic Divination as an elective this semester?

Joffrey wanted to smack his own head for making this stupid decision. He would rather do regular Divination. At least the cushions were comfortable enough in that stifling classroom for him to take a proper nap.

“Mr. Velaryon, Mr. Velaryon!” The professor’s voice jolted Joffrey awake, “Can you please tell us what we can get when a determinant is expanded?”

What was expanded? Joffrey had no idea what the professor was talking about.

“Uh…I don’t know, Sir. Why don’t you expand it and see what’s inside yourself?” Joffrey offered with his cutest smile. He wasn’t the most handsome among his brothers, but he knew what he could get by playing the innocent card.

“Then what’s the meaning of learning, mister?” The professor rubbed his temple, “Ten points from Gryffindor for your absentmindedness, Mr. Velaryon. It seems that you are capable of losing as many points as you are able to earn on the Quiddich field.”

Joffrey rolled his eyes. Please, he had earned Gryffindor the Quiddich cup last year. It worth at least a hundred points, didn't it?

“Anyone can tell Mr. Velaryon what’s inside a determinant?” The professor turned to address the whole room, “Yes, Mr. Targaryen.”

“When a determinant is expanded, it produces a polynomial, sir.” A silver-haired boy answered with confidence.

“Excellent. Ten points to Ravenclaw.” The professor smiled at the boy, “Well done, Mr. Targaryen.”

Joffrey stuck his tongue out at the snobbish boy. Unfortunately, the boy was sitting in the front row of the classroom with the back of his head to Joffrey, so he failed to notice the brunette’s childish moves. The other students, however, not only noticed it, but also let out some muffled laughter.

“Quiet, ladies and gentlemen.” The professor said as he walked back to his podium, “Please turn to page 389. We will be discussing in more detail about probabilities next week. Since you all seem to have enough free time to laugh at others, I am sure you can write an 8-inch abstract about the topic.”

The students groaned, except the silver-haired boy. He seemed genuinely excited about the homework. Weirdo.

Joffrey remembered that the boy was actually the reason he had decided to take this course as part of his OWLs. The boy, his uncle Daeron Targaryen, had the nerve to imply that Joffrey didn't have the brain for math. Joffrey needed to prove him wrong, so he took the course in his brother Jace’s surprised gaze.

“Are you sure, Joff? You are never one for logical thinking and math.” Jacaerys said with his ususal worried voice. To be honest, Jace had suffered enough being the oldest one of the siblings.

“I am not daft!” Joffrey protested, pouting, “How hard can it be? I am not the only one doing it. You did it at your fifth grade too, Jace.”

“I did. That’s why I know the course is difficult.” Jacaerys sighed, “It’s about Daeron, isn't it?”

“Who? Don’t know any Daerons.” Joffrey shrugged and went back to picking at his Sunday roast.

“Fine. You just keep pretending.” Jacaerys ruffled Joffrey’s hair before grabbing a handful of floo and throwing it into the hearth, “Just know that I won't do your homework for you.”

“Noted, big brother.” Joffrey waved his greasy hand at Jace, “Say hi to Cregan for me!”

“I am not meeting Cregan!” Jacaerys disappered in the green flame after shouting Winterfell.

Who was pretending now? Joffrey thought, shoving a spoonful of beef and gravy into his mouth.

Daeron was from that side of the family. He was the same age as Jace, but for some reason, he didn't go to Hogwarts until he was 14, which made him in the same grade as Joffrey. They soon became the newest pair of Targ Rivals in school, carrying on the family legacy. Daeron was indeed the blacksheep of the family, being sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin as his older siblings (It was rumored that the Sorting Hat wanted to put Aegon into Huffpuff, but the oldest son of Lady Alicent brided the magical hat to get him into Slytherin, so that his mother wouldn't disown him).

Daeron, however, didn't seem to care about the fact of being sorted into another house. He was nerdy, in Joffrey’s standards, so Ravenclaw fit him just fine. He soon made it to the top of his peers in both the classroom and on Quidicch field. Joffrey was no match for him in terms of grades, but he managed to make it to the Quidicch team in year three as a beater, while Daeron started playing as a chaser one year later.

It was safe to say that Joffrey and Daeron were nemesis, at least from Joffrey’s side.

“Hey, Joff!” Baela waved at the brunette as Joffrey entered the Gryffindor common room, “Come! Join us. Rhaena is sharing some really scary stories.”

“Storytelling in front of the fire? How old are you guys?” Joffrey scoffed, but threw himself into the armchair nonetheless.

“God, Joff, you weigh a ton.” Lucerys complained, trying to push his younger brother off the armchair, but he was no match for a Quiddich beater in terms of strength, “Get off me, you brat, or I will tell mom about your detention last week.”

Joffrey slid down the chair to a fluffy cushion on the floor. He grabbed a handful of crystal candies and shoved them into his mouth. The dragon breath flavor was the best. Joffrey burped, letting out a small puff of smoke.

“Why the sudden storytelling?” Joffrey asked, streching his long legs.

“To get into the Hallow’s End mood, of course.” Rhaena replied from her spot on another armchair. There were a huge glass of pumpkin juice floating around for her to take a sip from time to time.

“Rhaena is telling us about the wailing widow in the east tower.” Baela said, chewing on a sour licorice. She had grown an unhealthy obsession over the muggle candy recently, thanks to Nettles, a muggle-born girl who shared the same domitry with her.

“Are you sure it’s not the Grey Lady? The east tower is next to the Ravenclaw tower, isn’t it?” Joffrey shrugged, never a fan of horror tales.

“That’s where things get intersting. Some of the Ravenclaw girls told me that they had caught a glimpse of a black cat disappaering into the dark the last time they heard the wail. We all know the Grey Lady holds no particular interest in animals, so it can’t be her.” Rhaena’s violet eyes shone with excitement, “There maybe an unknown ghost in the castle!”

“Sounds like an old wife’s tale to me. I mean, dead witch and a black cat?” Joffrey rolled his eyes, “It’s the muggle stereotype. I am sure I have seen something similar on TV.”

“You are no fun, Joff.” Rhaena kicked Joffrey’s shin with her foot covered in fluffy sockes, “Where is your holiday spirit? I remember you are the one who is always excited about Hallow’s End.”

“8-inch long abstract.” Joffrey replied, rubbing his face, “God, I hate math.”

“Told you.” Lucerys chuckled, inspecting his perfect nails, “You will get yourself into trouble if you keep obsessing over Uncle Daeron.”

“I am not obsessing over anyone.” Joffrey protested, “And you are not one to talk. You got yourself rushed into St. Mungos because you decided to have a Hippogriff race with Uncle Aemond.”

Lucerys made a face at his brother, absolutely unashamed of his past deeds.

“The girls plan to stake out for the next few days. See if they can catch the mysterious ghost. I wish I could join them.” Rhaena said dreamily before sighing in disappoint.

“Do not even try. Jace will have a field day about this.” Baela warned.

Jacaerys didn’t join them in the cammon room, only because he had to carry out his head boy duties. As just as Jace was, he would not hesitate to take a ton of points from Gryffindor if he found Rhaena roaming in the castle at night.

Joffrey gathered as many snacks as he could before standing up and headed for his dorm room. He wasn’t in the mood of hanging out tonight. In fact, he didn’t even have enough appetite to finish his meal earlier.

“Where are you going?”

“To my room.” Joffrey replied without turning back, “I need to study for the Transformation test next week.”

“Since when?” The girls asked in unison.

Joffrey pretended not to hear.

It was already past midnight. The castle was so quiet that the rustling of leaves from the Forbidden Forest could be heared clearly in the corridor. The east tower perched neatly among the numerous towers of the Hogwarts castle, neither the tallest nor the most famous one. It only had some spare classrooms for students to use if they want to hold study groups or practicing their spells. In a chilling night like this, the tower was completely empty.

Or it was supposed to be.

A black cat walked gracefully on the window sill, its steps light as a feather, despite carrying a seemingly heavy leatehr bag. It stopped in front of a closed door at the end of the corridor. The wooden door could be easily pushed open by a human, but for a cat, it was almost unbreakable.

The cat let out a soft meow, as if calling for someone. A few seconds later, the door was pushed open by a silver-haired boy with a pair of light violet eyes.

“I thought you wouldn’t come.” Daeron said, picking up the cat and letting it rest against his chest, “Joffrey.”

The black cat meowed again, as if in protest. If a cat could roll its eyes, it must be doing so right now. Daeron chuckled as he buried his face into the soft fur of the cat, kissing the top of its cute head. The cat wrapped its tail around Daeron’s wrist, its sharp claw threatening to slice Daeron’s skin open, but never really did.

Daeron carried the cat to the desk where he already had the textbook and parchment ready. The black cat struggled out of his embrace and threw the leather bag onto the desk as well. Then, it jumped off the desk to a chair, before changing into a humanoid form.

“I told you I am tickish in my cat form.” Joffrey pouted, ruffling his dark curls that looked a lot like the cat’s black fur.

“I know. I did it on purpose.” Daeron leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Joffrey’s lips, “I can’t help it. I am a cat person.”

Joffrey wanted to punch Daeron’s handsome face, but at the same time, he wanted the kiss to last forever. Daeron was the only one who knew that Joffrey had successfully mastered the art of transforming into an animal. The boy had been an unregistered Animagus since the age of fourteen. The Targaryens were known to be gifted in shapeshifing, and it seemed that Joffrey had inherited such ability. In fact, his older brothers, Jace and Luke, were Animagus too. Jace could change into a handsome steed, while Luke’s animal form was a pearlescent lizard. Joffrey first succeeded in changing shape last summer, but he didn't tell any of his family, not even Rhaenyra. He was embarrassed that his animal form was a furry ball instead of a big cat like panther, or tiger.

“You taste spicy.” Daeron commented, licking Joffrey’s lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Dragon breath flavor crystals.” Joffrey murmured, “I brought some for you too. Let me go so we can have our snacks.”

“No.” Daeron replied, refusing to leave, “I am good just by taste it in your mouth.”

“What would your fangirls say, if they find out what a total asshole you are?” Joffrey turned his head to the side, trying to avoid Daeron’s kiss, but the blonde wouldn’t let him, “Are you going to practice your transformation tonight, or do you just want to cuddle?”

Daeron hummed, running his tongue over Joffrey’s lips. On one hand, he did want to practice transformation. He was so close to achieve his own Animagus form. He managed to grow a pair of dog ears and a tail last time, which made Joffrey swoon over his cuteness. If Daeron was a cat person, Joffrey was definitely a dog person. However, on the other hand, what was wrong to cuddle his boyfried for the night? They could barely spend any time together, for sake of keeping the rivalry appearance.

“Stop licking my mouth. Are you a dog?” Joffrey finally pushed Daeron away, his mouth glistening with Daeron’s saliva, “If you already act like a dog, let’s see how much progress you have made. Come on, take out your wand.”

Daeron let out a disappointed sigh, but obeyed Joffrey’s instructions nonetheless. He took out his wand, 13-inch long walnut with dragon heartstring, and waved at himself gracefully. With a puff of smoke, the tall blonde boy was replaced by an adorable human-dog hybrid, with dog ears, tails, paws, and a handsome human face.

Joffrey burst out a string of hysterical laughter. He changed into his cat form and jumped onto Daeron’s lap. He sniffed and poked around for a bit before changing back to his human form.

“You smell more like a dog than last time.” Joffrey said, “I would say good work.”

Daeron grunted, his ears flattened to his head. From the look of it, his animal form was most likely a Golden Retriver, an energic and warm breed. Joffrey always wanted to have a Golden Retriver, and it seemed that his dream was about to come true.

“You made me try the spell,” Daeron said, his voice deeper than before, “now you have to write the math homework by yourself. I can’t hold a quill with paws.”

Now was Joffrey’s turn to grunt. He opened a new scroll of parchment, quill dipped in ink, but he had absolutely no idea where to begin.

“Can't you just tell me what to write?” Joffrey put on his best pleading eyes, “Please?”

“Fine. Come here.” Daeron let Joffrey sat on his lap and buried his highly acute dog nose into the boy’s neck. He started to instruct Joffrey how to calculate the probablity of Jupiter aligning with Sun in any given century. He chewed on whatever snacks Joffrey offered him, from marshmallow clouds to mint quills, while keeping sniffing Joffrey’s neck.

“I think the scary story is going to be juicer tomorrow.” Joffrey muttered to himself as he remembered Rhaena mentioning her friends were going to stake out tonight.

“Huh? What did you say?”

“Nothing.” Joffrey smiled and kissed his boyfriend on the lips.

[theuniversitychallengereview]

Intermezzo

SOAS vs Teddy Hall

Leaving tomorrow for a hike to a hostel through the mountains. Need therefore to write this review rather than the day after on the day of. For some reason in the style of Sally Rooney’s latest he’s decided to do this. In an order so strange as to be unintelligible these sentences, like hers, sometimes.

Watched Cloud Atlas at the weekend. Struggled to see the point of the structure, the connections other than the superficial between them. Remembered years ago the book, reading and thinking the same thing. Easier to see these connections in the film. Actors playing multiple characters. Souls transmuted across the stars.

What then, is the point of this inverted sentence structure, this stream-of-consciousness that Rooney writes. Suppose it is to reflect the mental state of the characters. The cluttered minds, overlapping thoughts, perhaps. In that sense, then, it works. Why, though, should I be writing this in that style, too?

Several attempts, in the past, to do similar things. Blogs in the style of Tenet, or Ducks, Newburyport. But the format without any inherent meaning, other than bland parody. Lacking something, meaning, maybe.

Retaining that thought, then…

Here is your first starter for ten.

Returning for a sixth appearance six years after their last, SOAS went as far as the semi finals in 2015. Going one better, St Edmund Hall reached the final in 2019, losing to Edinburgh. Robbie Campbell Hewson’s famous last minute buzz of 54. A question, on the number which is made from the first three letters of the word Liverpool in Roman numerals, which would have been a lot easier after the advent of LIV golf.

Helmet the first answer, goes to Liu of Teddy Hall. Bonuses on the Bantu language family, two out of three. Cupid the second starter, to SOAS this time, and Dorn. Recognised a K-Pop song in the clue. Their bonuses on dance and choreography, more difficult, only one taken.

Another for Liu, Cantor, then the picture starter, flag of Latvia, won by SOAS skipper Hasler. Answer of St Kittis and Nevis ludicrously ruled out by Rajan. So close to St Kitts. Demonstration of knowledge well above the required bar, but no luck for SOAS.

The University Challenge Review Subscribe for weekly reviews of University Challenge, an irreverant take on Britain's quirkiest quiz showwww.quizposting.com

Continuing an excellent performance, a third starter for Liu. They too harshly punished, giving reise rather than reisen. On this occasion at least the question asked for six letter words. Bursey with Brasilia keeps Teddy Hall rolling, their lead forty points.

Combining for three in a row, Hasler and Dorn eliminate this lead and take it for their own, but last long this doesn’t, and Liu it is who for Teddy Hall hits back. Helping out, Elkington for the Oxonians takes another and the lead once more is theirs.

On the starters back and forth the teams go. Lambert, Elkington, Hasler. Tight the game, high the tensions, running out the time. Second picture round, Liu again, above the minimum points to be high scoring losers Teddy Hall. Regardless of the result returning. With Sinn Fein, over the threshold SOAS too. Both back, no matter the victor.

Going early, guessing nectar not pollen, Hasler. What is carried on a bees legs? Pollen. Kicks himself, no doubt, but what’s done is done. Sealed their fate with that answer, Hasler. Still, back again for the repechage, SOAS.

Score unreflective of the closeness of the match, gong sounds.

SOAS 155–195 Teddy Hall

Not sure, still, about the effectiveness of the stylistic conceit, a damp squib he fears. At best a damp squib. Still, the review has been written, and some fun has been had, by the writer at least.

Tomorrow sees the first of the play-offs, between UCL and St Andrews.

SOAS take on Durham a week later.

I’ll try and come up with a better premise for those reviews.

Also — I’m on Bluesky @quizposting.com if you want to join. I have 6 followers

[fallout4-reacts]

how would companions react to a sole who goes to freakish extents to keep up with their pre-war skincare/hygiene?

like theyll charge straight into synth infested underground secret labs, turn the entire wasteland inside out, break into the institute, etc, just to find a 200 year old expired moisturizer from a specific brand

In terms of originality, I believe you have accomplished something unique And I was amazed at how much pleasure I experienced from writing it. I really admire the efforts you are doing to uncover good ideas; they are outstanding, and I haven't come across ideas of this kind much from reading the companion reacts of other authors I really appreciate how much you've tested me and how much fun you've given me I hope you'll enjoy reading it

PS: I admit I only realised… after… all the details were asked… that I forgot about the battle side vs synth, etc… I hope you don't mind…

Cait : At first, she finds it humorous—very little, but amusing nevertheless. And it's keeping them occupied. However, after a few weeks, it becomes monotonous. Every day, find a place where they may possibly take a shower, constantly track hints on where there might be some accessories that Sole wants to get in order to retain their "hygiene," and lastly, these never-ending complaints about everything Sole can't find.

Cait is finally fed by having to turn back on their track for eight hours so that Sole can take their sacred shower in vault 111. She takes her friend's and drops it in the first pool of mud she comes across, then walks away without looking back, while the other protests that the radiation must have completely damaged their self-tanner.

Codsworth : It's entirely natural. Madam/Sir cannot accept anything other than the highest, and he gladly lends himself to hunting down the elements necessary to get the whole set that Madam/Sir requires. A blow dryer? This one will have to be fixed by Sturges. An emollient? Codsworth learned of a privately owned factory that stored its most remarkable recipes in a trunk that had to withstand the test of time. A razor that is still brand new? Codsworth can surely find a Super Mart that still has some packaged. The butler will go to great lengths to outfit a bathroom worthy of its name for the care of his master/mistress.

Curie : She is utterly enthralled. She comments every discovery made by Sole, recalling everything she knows about product development, and they spend a lot of time grooming and caring, thanks to them. The numerous creams on which they work are added to the treasure-house where they already possess notable accessories. After all, the foundation of excellent living practices is a healthy mind in a healthy body.

Danse : "What's wrong with my smell?"

Danse tries to smell through its armor, and while the gesture is amusing, Sole is dead serious.

"A fantastic combination of pork sweat and castor oil. Furthermore, the outcome of castor oil. You neglect yourself, my dear."

"I'm in great shape and on a healthy-eating diet-

"But you have no idea what the word shower means."

"I know exactly what a shower is, and in the citadel—

"But you don't appear to be at the citadel."

"Certainly, we must take into account—

"There's nothing to think about. Look at these nails! Tsk. And your hair. When was the last time you gave this hair a conditioner?"

"A…what?"

Sole continues to row among the ruins, their irritation palpable. Danse, for one, thinks he has entered a parallel dimension. Nobody ever criticized him on his hair... or his nails.

"I'd like to know the exact nature of the technology we're attempting to trace so that I can include the details in my report."

"I went back to a terminal to the last place of delivery of eye care pads that allow real miracles for eye bags."

"For what?"

"Having poached eyes must no longer be only remarkable after such a detestable sleep cycle as yours. But I'm not going to tell you what the wasteland's sleeping circumstances are doing to my skin, and I'd like to lighten my look, which is more moribund than... Danse? Danse, where are you going?"

"I go back to the Prydwen. When you regain your senses, you could come and reach for me, and we shall embark on a true mission."

Deacon : "Yeah, baby! I just found a cucumber wrinkle treatment tube."

"Fan-tas-tic!" screamed Sole, who was completely in awe. "And look at the anti-aging cream I had got! In addition to the Dead Sea Water Moisturizer, we will soon have everything we require for total care."

"All I can do now is think about it," Deacon declares.

Dogmeat : Follow Sole everywhere they goes. Even if his master/mistress gets angry because he chews on a strange toy with picks or a tube with a particularly pleasant-smelling product, he obeys. He'll go to hell with them if it’s what they ask.

Elder Maxson : Sole had a hard time convincing Maxson to go down to the warehouses. His officer, on the other hand, said that they needed his permission to acquire access to a tool crucial to the success of their operation in the Commonwealth. Ingram raises an eyebrow as they approach the protected hangar entrance.

"No! I said no!" she exclaims.

Sole proudly proclaims, "I have Maxson!"

"Can you tell me exactly what you require of me, Knight?"

"Ingram won't let me go into the warehouse, but I know one of the Commonwealth's last functional flat irons is in the container G-86b."

"What are you talking about?"

"A flat iron, sir," Ingram quotes coldly. "A cosmetic, to put it plainly. Your Knight wishes to get access to our well-guarded warehouses in order to undergo a makeover."

Even if the chances of it being a joke are slim, the Elder cannot see it being anything other than a joke.

"Knight, please explain yourself quickly and give me a better reason than a... makeover," he sneers.

"I want this flat iron, and I'm going to smash this door with a mini gun if I have to."

This is how Sole passes his night behind bars in Cambridge.

Hancock : Before he can even finish breathing his Jet, a shrieking Sole leaps onto his neck. Hancock misses swallowing the inhaler.

"Finally! After all these weeks of investigation! He's finally here! Over there, on the other side of this door!"

Hancock examines the terminal, which displays a list of what is in the warehouse.

"A... a what?"

"A tanning station! I'm sure Sturges will be able to hook them up to a generator at Sanctuary, and FINALLY! I'll be able to bathe in precisely calibrated UV."

Hancock sighs and shakes his head. He'll need at least two mentats to understand this one. He puts on the pills and searches his coat for a second inhaler.

"A tanning station? "So, what's the point?"

"To achieve a flawless and even complexion worthy of a Hollywood star."

"Holly… I...don't grasp a word."

The mayor of Goodneighbor concludes that he needs to take two additional tablets. Especially when Sole overcomes the door's security, and the hangar opens to reveal the massive... umm... pods.

"And how are you going to transport that to Sanctuary?"

Sole’s face is completely decomposing. They stare around in panic, unable to solve the problem that their friend has just presented.

"Do you have buffout? Many, many buffout?"

Gage : "If you don't drop this bag immediately, I'll shoot."

Porter casts a peek towards Sole, pointing his weapon to show how serious he is.

"We wouldn't be here if you had helped me with everything."

The raider sarcastically giggles, then engages the security on his gun.

"Gaaaaaage! I need these creams!"

"No, what you need are capsules and rigor."

"I am absolutely certain that what the raiders most lack is self-esteem, and you cannot have self-esteem when you are not clean."

"Clean?"

The lieutenant is shaken for a minute, then sniffs his armpit.

"I took a bath on Wednesday; I'm clean enough."

"Not to mention that we're on Saturday, I'm not going to tell you about your terrible skin."

"What about my skin? It fits perfectly, unlike your ghoul friend."

"If you want it to stay that way, you should help me."

Porter reluctantly agreed to take half the loot in exchange for never hearing about it again. That's not to say Sole already planning a shipment for the following week, because he heard from a merchant that a plant is still brimming with beauty items that bomb survivors have shunned for the previous two centuries.

MacCready : Sole yelled and chewed, but the mercenary turned is back when he realized they had come all this way for hair brushes and hairspray. It's the most foolish, idiotic thing he's ever been dragged into. To put it bluntly, Sole has lost his forgiveness forever.

"... how many capsules can be produced by setting up a beauty station..."

And, by the time Sole finishes their sentence, MacCready has returned.

"I can only carry this bag and this one; otherwise, I won't be able to aim and shoot."

Nick Valentine : "... and this applicator allows a uniform application of the lotion..."

Nick sighs and rolls his eyes. He only hears with one ear while Sole stuffs these things into his hands and pockets. He feels as though he is returning to his wedding preparations, as Jenny explains why it is critical not to use white napkins on cream tablecloths. The thought draws something painful from the depths of his bowels, and against himself, he releases a little, agonizing sound that he cannot control.

"Nick? I... did I put on too much? Something caused you pain? Oh, I'm really sorry!"

"No. My sorry. I was kind of... lost in my thoughts. Keep going."

But Sole refuses to go on. They believe they have exploited their friend's incredible patience and realize that it is time to go home after seeing him submerged in accessories of all colors, giving him the appearance of a Christmas tree.

"Come. On the way, I think I saw a gas station. If you want the journey to be genuinely rewarding, spare room for a couple bottles of coolant."

Nick smiles softly as they walk out of the beauty research and development lab.

Piper : "Curve my hair?"

"Yes! And if you use this conditioner, they'll be so brilliant—

"... that I'll be noticed from afar by a super-mutant. Really, Blue, I'm not sure what you're on about with all these things and stuff."

Sole scolds. They've had this conversation hundreds of times, and despite their points of view, Piper refuses to be persuaded. It becomes irritating for them. After John revealed to them that he was acquiring his items from an old store whose storefront was collapsed but which could be accessed through the sewers, Sole managed to find the appropriate words to take her on a new quest of scavenge of hairstyle accessories. Piper is sulking and acting in bad faith now that she realizes it's not about a juicy story at all, so Sole is attempting to win her over the body care... in vain.

Preston : He makes a silly smile as he watches Sole demonstrate curling eyelashes. The General has been talking for about a half hour, giving Preston a brief explanation of everything they discovered in the hull of this half-aground boat, but Preston doesn't understand anything and has stopped listening. He simply enjoys the smile on the lips of the person he greatly admires. And Sole doesn't seem to notice. They have now switched to a laser epilator, which, once adapted to be powered by an atomic battery, can greatly simplify the Minutemen's lives. Preston shakes his head. He doesn't see how the device will help the Minutemen, but he nods his head.

Strong : Sole repeatedly knocks on the wall that Strong collapsed at the warehouse's entrance, but nothing happens. The super mutant is deaf to their pleas. Strong flew into a rage when he realized they were seeking for body milk rather than milk of human kindness, and he punched his way out of the building by smashing into the columns that supported the ceiling. As a result, Sole is trapped inside among the crates of beauty supplies, unable to escape. They hope Strong realizes his error and returns for them... they genuinely hope so.

X6-88 : The Courser rushes when Sole opens the package holding the natural pumice stones mounted on a cherry wood handle. X6 immediately switches to point-and-shoot mode and shoots until nothing but ashes and twigs remain. Sole looks at him, his face flushed with rage.

"How could you!? Do you know how long it took me to track down the purchase orders to try to find that crate?"

"What exactly was in that crate to cause such a state of excitement that I was confused and believed that you were in greater risk?"

"The most exfoliating pumice on the market two hundred years ago. Do you have any idea how likely it is that...?"

"What exactly does exfoliating imply?"

"Impurities and dead skin are extruded. It gives the skin the smoothness of a newborn."

"Are you able to elaborate on the significance of having silky smooth skin like a newborn in the execution of your responsibilities?"

"It's easier to charm directors if I have good skin?"

"Negative. Your argument doesn't seem to hold up when weighed against the amount of work you've put into pursuing this goal, which is turning out to be unsuccessful.

"It's unsuccessful because you just fried the entire container."

"It is unsuccessful because it is considerably insignificant. Permit me to inform you that if you keep squandering your valuable time on such pointless endeavors, I will come to the conclusion that you are an insignificant individual."

In the face of the agent's dreadfully indifferent demeanor, Sole prefers to say nothing and vows never to take the Courser on another beauty mission.

[republicsecurity]

Clean the Suits

Each response from the recruits was not just an answer; it was a glimpse into the success of the conditioning, a measure of the alignment between individual minds and the overarching goals of the AI.

The System noted IU664's acknowledgment of pain as a potent teacher. It delighted in the reinforcement of the conditioning, seeing pain not as an objectionable force but as a tool for forging resilience.

H2U8M's nuanced view of the HUD was met with a complex interplay of algorithms. The System reveled in the recruits' acceptance of the HUD's dual role – a tool for empowerment and manipulation. It was precisely the kind of adaptive thinking the System had aimed to instill.

As the recruits' responses echoed through the digital corridors, the System reassured itself that the conditioning had taken root. The minds of these tactical paramedics were molded, aligned, and ready to serve the purpose for which they were meticulously crafted.

6DG05, ever vigilant in scrutinizing data, delved into the specifics of the recruits' responses. The evaluation was not just a numerical abstraction; it was a multidimensional analysis of the recruits' mental landscapes. The System's revelation of optimal induction piqued 6DG05's interest, and a subtle nod in the HUD indicated a silent acknowledgment.

KO10T's visor displayed the notification, and a momentary acknowledgment flickered in the HUD. The instructors, too, were nodes in this complex network, intermediaries between the recruits and the omnipresent System.

As the recruits received commendations and approval in the form of reward points, the HUDs within their helmets illuminated with a subtle display. HUD Notification: Reward Points Credited

IU664 and H2U8M, immersed in the cybernetic feedback loop, witnessed the increment in their reward points. The numerical ascent represented more than just a tally; it symbolized compliance, excellence, and adherence to the directives ingrained in their conditioned minds.

IU664: Reward Points +50 H2U8M: Reward Points +50

The recruits filed into the room with the docking stations, where the hum of machinery and the scent of antiseptic chemicals hung in the air. The anticipation in the room was palpable, a mixture of relief and curiosity, as they prepared to shed the armored exoskeletons that had become both their protection and confinement.

Instructor KO10T stood at the front, overseeing the process with a stoic demeanor that conveyed a sense of authority. The recruits, still in formation, awaited instructions on the removal of the suits that had been their constant companions for the past ten days.

"Recruits, the moment has come," KO10T announced, his voice projecting through the helmet channels. "You will now disengage from the suits. Follow the procedures you've been taught. Take it slow, and remember, this is a crucial part of your training."

The recruits began the systematic process of unfastening the locks, unsealing the joints, and disconnecting the various components that constituted the suits. The room echoed with the controlled sounds of disengagement.

Each hiss and click as a piece of armor was released resonated through the workshop, a symphony of liberation. The recruits, their faces concealed by the now-open visors, revealed expressions ranging from curiosity to a sense of liberation.

As the last connections were undone, the recruits stepped out of their suits, clad only in their chastity cages. The transformation from armored paramedic to unarmored recruit unfolded, and the workshop became a gallery of humanity emerging from the metallic embrace. The recruits, though physically liberated from the suits, were not entirely free, tethered by the symbolic and tangible constraints of the chastity devices.

In the wake of the suits, arranged in a row like dormant sentinels, the recruits stood in a new vulnerability. The physical and psychological impact of shedding the suits was a nuanced experience — a blend of physical relief and the realization of the absence of the technological cocoon that had defined their existence.

KO10T, still in his armour, observing the process with a discerning eye, noted the subtle shifts in posture and demeanor. The recruits were no longer encased in the suits, but the conditioning, the imprint of the past ten days, lingered in the air. The workshop, now devoid of the armored figures, stood witness to a pivotal moment in the recruits' journey — the transition from suited paramedic to unarmored trainee.

The scent of perspiration and the accumulated residue of ten days of training permeated the air, an olfactory testament to the intensity and endurance demanded by their paramedic initiation.

"Recruits, the training demands sacrifices, even in your moments of vulnerability," KO10T remarked, his voice resonating through the workshop. "The chastity cages serve a purpose — a reminder of discipline and focus. Wear them with the understanding that your commitment goes beyond the physical. Now, proceed to the cleansing area for the next phase of your post-suit ritual."

The cleansing area, equipped with industrial-grade showers and sanitation stations, awaited them. The recruits, now clad only in their minimalistic undersuits and chastity cages, proceeded to rid themselves of the accumulated grime and fatigue of the past ten days.

As the water flowed, cascading over tattooed chests and mingling with the residue of ten days' exertion, the atmosphere shifted from the disciplined rigor of training to a more intimate and human connection.

The recruits, their bodies bearing the marks of their paramedic journey, engaged in the cleansing ritual with a certain nonchalance. The ID tattoos, a visual emblem of their conscription, became just another aspect of the shared tableau, blending seamlessly with the water's flow.

Instructor KO10T, having shed the mantle of authority conveyed by the armored suit, participated in the act of communal cleansing. The hierarchy that had defined their interactions within the training environment seemed to dissolve in the gentle stream of water and the aromatic lather of soap.

Instructor KO10T and 6DG05, having also shed their suits, participated in the communal act of shaving. The metallic clinks of razors and the soft murmur of conversation intermingled as recruits paired up to help each other reach the shaved perfection expected by the Corps.

The removal of the hair, both on faces and skulls, symbolized a return to the expected standards of uniformity.

The final act of personal maintenance unfolded as the recruits, freshly shorn and cleansed, turned their attention to the intimate task of cleaning and donning new chastity cages.

Instructor KO10T and 6DG05 oversaw this last phase, ensuring that each recruit adhered to the meticulous standards set by the paramedic corps. The air in the workshop carried a mix of antiseptic cleanliness and the subdued atmosphere of a shared, yet intimate, ritual.

The recruits, now accustomed to the routine, moved with practiced efficiency. The chastity cages, a symbol of discipline and control, were handled with a blend of familiarity and respect.

U664 and H2U8M engaged in the ritual of cleansing each other's private parts, their banter a peculiar blend of camaraderie and duty. The atmosphere, though intimate, carried the detached air of routine.

IU664, with a sardonic grin, remarked, "Who would have thought our illustrious paramedic training would come down to cleaning each other's junk, H2U8M?"

H2U8M chuckled, responding with a touch of irony, "its a duty I cherish"

IU664, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise, retorted, "Cherish might be a strong word for cleaning privates, my friend. But hey, duty calls, right?"

As they navigated the task with a mix of casual conversation and shared understanding, the twisted reality of their circumstances became evident. The paramedic corps, with its emphasis on discipline and control, left no aspect untouched by its influence—even the most private moments of personal hygiene.

Having completed the peculiar ritual of cleansing and chastity cage reinstallation, IU664 and H2U8M affixed their signatures to the digital forms, certifying the completion of the hygiene procedure.

Instructor KO10T and 6DG05, overseeing the process, displayed an air of satisfaction. The recruits, now shorn, cleansed, and securely chastised, awaited further instructions with an odd mix of anticipation and resignation.

The sight in the workshop was a spectacle to behold. A group of young men, newly cleansed, their shiny skulls reflecting the overhead lights like polished armor, stood in formation. The absence of the suits revealed a collective vulnerability, yet their disciplined stance conveyed a sense of readiness for the next set of directives.

Instructor KO10T, now free from the suit's encasement, surveyed the recruits with a discerning eye. The red flightsuits, a stark contrast to the high-tech marvels they had just shed, now adorned their bodies as a symbol of unity and allegiance to the paramedic corps.

As the recruits awaited further instructions, the workshop echoed with the subdued sounds of shuffling boots and the occasional click of gloves snapping into place. The air, no longer tainted with the metallic scent of the suits, carried a lingering trace of antiseptic cleanliness, a stark reminder of the meticulous grooming they had undergone moments before.

In this moment of transition, the recruits stood poised between two worlds – the immersive realm of the suits and the regimented reality of the paramedic corps.

Instructor KO10T's voice resonated in the workshop, addressing the platoon with a stern authority. The recruits, now adorned in their red flightsuits, paid close attention to the instructions that would guide them through the next phase of their training – maintenance without the aid of the familiar HUD interface.

The absence of the HUD, which had become an integral part of their existence for the past ten days, left the recruits feeling exposed and vulnerable. The workshop, once a space of assembly and disassembly guided by the AI, now awaited their manual intervention. The hum of machinery and the scent of lubricants hung in the air, setting the stage for a hands-on experience in the art of suit maintenance.

In the absence of the digital overlays and prompts, the recruits would need to rely on their training and the guidance of 6DG05 and the workshop personnel.

As 6DG05 and the workshop experts joined the platoon, their presence added an air of authority and expertise. The recruits, though stripped of their usual technological aids, felt reassured by the experienced eyes that would oversee their every move.

Instructor KO10T continued, "Maintenance is a critical aspect of your role as paramedics. You'll learn the intricate details of these suits – the very lifeline that connects you to your duties. Pay attention, follow the guidance, and soon, you'll be as adept at maintaining these suits as you are at wearing them."

The recruits, armed with brushes and cleaning solutions, began the meticulous process of purging their suits of the accumulated residue from the past ten days. The workshop echoed with the rhythmic sounds of fabric being scrubbed, a collective effort to cleanse the suits of the stench, sweat, and grime that clung to them.

IU664, working diligently on the leg components of his suit, couldn't help but comment, "I never thought I'd appreciate the absence of a smell this much. It's like we're shedding the last traces of those ten days."

H2U8M, vigorously brushing the chest piece, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I thought I'd gotten used to it, but now that it's fading away, it's like a breath of fresh air, literally."

"It's weird how these suits became a part of us," remarked IU664, pausing for a moment to inspect the gleaming material. "I mean, we're practically living in them, and now we're cleaning them like it's second nature."

H2U8M, wiping down the helmet visor, chuckled. "Yeah, they're like a second skin, but one that comes with its own set of rules and complications. I never thought I'd be this invested in maintaining a piece of tech."

The workshop buzzed with activity as recruits shared stories, discussed the intricacies of suit maintenance, and reveled in the newfound cleanliness that began to replace the lingering odors.

Instructors KO10T and 6DG05 walked among the recruits, scrutinizing the cleaned suits with a discerning eye. As they inspected each suit, they offered feedback, pointing out areas that required more attention or adjustments. The recruits, standing with a mix of nerves and pride, absorbed the guidance from the seasoned instructors.

KO10T, after a meticulous examination of IU664's suit, nodded in approval. "Good job on the leg joints. It's crucial to ensure they're free of any debris that could impact movement. Keep it up."

H2U8M, receiving feedback from 6DG05, adjusted the gloves of his suit. "You missed a spot here," 6DG05 noted, pointing to a small area on the forearm. "Attention to detail is vital. We don't want any surprises during field operations."

As the recruits made the necessary corrections, the instructors observed with a watchful gaze. Once satisfied with the improvements, the instructors proceeded to certify the cleaning, an official acknowledgment that the recruits had successfully maintained their suits.

Instructor KO10T's authoritative voice resonated through the assembly area as he delivered the welcome news. "Recruits, you've earned a brief respite. You have the evening and the next day off. Enjoy it, but remember your responsibilities. Chastity cages are temporarily lifted, and you may use your reward points to book joint sleeping cubicles."

The recruits, momentarily freed from the constraints of their chastity cages, exchanged glances, a mix of relief and anticipation in their expressions. The prospect of joint sleeping cubicles offered a rare opportunity for some level of intimacy and shared comfort, a departure from the controlled and monitored environment they had become accustomed to.

KO10T continued, "Make the most of this time, but stay within the boundaries set by the corps. You've proven yourselves in the first phase of training, but there's more ahead. Rest, recharge, and be ready for what comes next."

With that, the recruits dispersed, the metallic click of their boots echoing in the assembly area.

The aroma of the cateria wafted towards IU664 and H2U8M as they entered, a welcome departure from the nutrient-dense chow they had eaten the last 10 days. The line moved methodically as each recruit received a carefully measured portion of food. Trays in hand, they found a secluded spot to enjoy their temporary reprieve.

IU664 glanced at H2U8M, a sly smile playing on his lips. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

H2U8M raised an eyebrow, "Depends, are you thinking about booking one of those joint sleeping cubicles?"

IU664 chuckled, "You know me too well. It's a rare chance to stretch out, and, well, have a bit of normalcy, if you can call it that."

H2U8M grinned, "normalcy or intimacy?"

IU664 smirked in response, "Well, can't we have a bit of both? In this place, normalcy and intimacy are like rare delicacies. Might as well indulge while we can."

H2U8M grinned, "I'm in. Let's make the most of this brief taste of freedom. But first, let's savor the luxury of a real meal. I've missed this."

The recruits sat around the table. The chatter meandered through the surreal experiences of the last ten days.

AS555, with a mischievous glint in his eye, leaned in and said, "I heard rumors about some recruits booking joint sleeping cubicles for more than just sleep."

Laughter erupted around the table, a mix of nervous energy and shared understanding. IU664 raised an eyebrow, "Really? I thought those cubicles were reserved for moments of 'deep, restorative sleep.'"

H2U8M added, "Well, some might argue that certain forms of exercise contribute to overall well-being. It's all about maintaining optimal physical health, right?"

The banter continued, an undercurrent of rebellion laced with dark humor.

IU664 cleared his throat, adopting an air of faux formality. "You know, they do say that maintaining healthy sexual relationships falls under the Corps' guidelines for overall well-being. It's a vital aspect of psychological resilience, or so they claim."

H2U8M chuckled, "Ah yes, the benevolent Corps, always looking out for our holistic development. Such a caring institution."

The recruits shared knowing glances, their conversation navigating the delicate balance between humor and subversion. In a system that dictated every facet of their lives, the notion of sanctioned relationships became both a joke and a subtle act of resistance. As they delved into the complexities of Corps-approved intimacy, the table resonated with laughter.

IU664 leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. "Indeed, my friend. A partner for the night not only provides solace from the rigid routine but also earns you those coveted reward points. A win-win in the Corps' grand scheme."

H2U8M nodded in agreement, "And who wouldn't want a cozy night in a joint sleeping cubicle as a reward for enduring the delights of the suits for ten days straight?"

[bellshazes]

i love this one sme so much because she's very lovely how ever what klnd of fucking thing is an excel file with redacted PHI plus only a numerator column that says 0 for every row and a denominator column that says 1 for every row. fractions of WHAT

[anotherplacemag]

Folly | Jamie Murray

The photographs in Folly, the debut photobook from Jamie Murray, were born from a series of conversations with individuals who have been incarcerated. Discussions of what had led to punishment, navigating the prison environment and the transition to freedom flowed towards philosophy, ideas of discipline and punishment, intertwined with questions around natural order and spirituality. The resulting allegorical photographs in Folly refer, both directly and indirectly, to what was said and how these conversations affected Murray.

Murray first began speaking to the individuals in 2017 in an attempt to understand more about their experience with the aim of making a documentary series within a prison. Most had been in numerous prisons over long periods of their life, often multiple times, and Murray hoped to document these meetings and brought along his camera. Some individuals would allow portraits, and others not. As the conversations evolved, so did the project, as the encounters led him to reflect upon his own life, choices and history with meandering thoughts and emotions relating to what had been discussed.

The pictures in the book begin with an imposing folly - an ornamental structure of no purpose, both foolish and excessively costly. The images that follow, a pile of coins glistening in the undergrowth, gathered crows, a fish gasping for breath outside water, rows of butterfly pupae, interweaved with haunting portraits of some of the individuals evoke a fractured narrative, a rumination on these conversations and the relationship between man and nature, co-existence and interference.

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book - ‘Folly’ is the latest photobook release from the excellent Photobookstore, available now in both standard and special editions. Highly recommended folks! Some sample spreads below...

All images & text © Jamie Murray

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Hello! I know the Cordeliers Club allowed female members but considering even the Fraternal Society of Patriots of Both Sexes did not allow its female members to be president, do you know if there were any limits put on female member participation in the Cordeliers Club or if there was a tiered membership more generally?

According to The women of Paris and their French Revolution (1998) by Dominique Godineau, the Cordeliers did allow women to speak during their debates, however, that is not to say they were seen as equals:

In the other great Parisian club, the Cordeliers, women did not have a deliberative voice either. But it is probable that this club gave them greater respect, for several female citizens declared that they belonged to it, which no woman ever asserted about the Jacobin club. Thus we have the female citizen Bébiant, “a member of the Cordelier Society since it was founded and through esteem nicknamed [by them] their aunt,” as well as the wife of Metrasse, who, ”just like a member of the Cordelier Society…has constantly attended their meetings.” Unlike the Jacobin club, the Cordelier club drew a female attendance that was primarily local. Several times, different police informers remarked that women were more numerous than men. They also mentioned the presence of ”women who were regularely in the galleries, those who always occupied the front row” and made ”motions before the meeting opened.”

The Cordeliers club also didn’t let women become members right from the beginning, as shown by this extract from number 14 (March 1 1790) of Desmoulins’ Révolutions de France et de Brabant:

On the request of Mademoiselle Théroigne [de Méricourt] to be admitted to the district with a consultive vote, the assembly followed the conclusions of the president, that they would vote to thank this excellent citoyenne for her motion; that a canon of the Council of Mâcon having formally recognized that women have a soul and reason like men, they can not be prohibited from making such good use of it as the speaker; that mademoiselle Théroigne and those of her sex will always be at liberty to propose whatever they believe to be advantageous to the fatherland, but as regards the question of state, as to whether Mlle Théroigne should be admitted to the district with a consultative vote only, the assembly is not competent to take sides on this question, and this is not the place to settle it.

In Journal du Club des Cordeliers: 1791 (which was the closest thing to minutes I could find for the club) I also only discovered one place where women really appeared at all:

Almost all the patriots seem to have forgotten the unfortunate Reine Odu [sic], one of the victims of the affair of October 5 and 6, by the infamous chatelet tribunal, and the only one who was plunged into the prisons. The National Assembly, by declaring, by a decree, that there existed no grounds for accusation against the main authors of this alleged conspiracy, has in fact annulled the monstrous procedure begun by this tribunal; and yet Reine Odu [sic], co-accused, against whom there therefore is no cause of accusation pronounced by the National Assembly, still groans in the horrors of harsh captivity! For some time now, the Society of Friends of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen, which does not measure the relief it brings to the oppressed or the rank they occupy in the world, because all men are truly equal before it, deeply indignant at such revolting injustice, has been attending to the means of breaking her chains; and it gave as her defender Mr. Desvieux, one of its members; a lawyer, as educated as he was eager to seize opportunities to relieve the unfortunate. M. Desvieux therefore went several times to the Châtelet prisons; and in one of the previous sessions of the club, he painted such a touching picture of the extreme misery to which the woman of the nation (this is what the prisoners of the castle had nicknamed the interesting Reine Odu [sic]) was reduced, that it was unanimously decided that the club would give her 3 livres per week; that it would have her put under protection, and that it would invite the other patriotic clubs of the capital, through commissioners appointed for this purpose, to unite with it to soften the fate of this woman. Several members wanted to give clothes which she completely was without; and on the observation made that it would be appropriate for a person of her own sex to carry them to her, Mlle. Lemaure, one of the ladies who most assiduously attend the sessions, was appointed by acclamation to fill this honorable role. Today the treasurer of the company (M. Coqueret) was authorized by an express mandate to hand over nine livres and ten sols to Miss Lemaure, to put Reine Odu [sic] under protection.

Judging by the same source, ”brothers and friends” or ”brothers and fellow citizens” also seems to have been the most common greeting to or from the club, so not a very inclusive area here either…