#Old World Brewery

[grombrindal-returns]

What if?

[djpain619]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Progress on Anker Brüggards/Jörgan Brüggardson (and Boris Bagger)

I redid the flesh tones on Boris, as well as his Eyes. I repainted his natural eye and touched up the leadbelcher on his eyepatch goggle. I think I'm ready to call him done. I just need to do his square base.

I painted the jumpsuit, gloves, and eyes Evil Sunz Scarlett and slapped Hashut Copper on some details. Painted the collar White Scar.

I painted the porthole black in preparation of my most ambitious project yet; painting a tiny picture of swirling beer.

What I'm going for:

[Just the porthole]

As for the name, Anker Brüggards is the one that Establishes the Aleniheim Brewery during the time of The Old World, Jörgan Brüggardson is his Heir that runs the Brewery and coaches the Team during the current era of BLOOD BOWL.

During the time of The Old World Boris Bagger is a young and accomplished Mercenary Captain hired by Anker Brüggards to be his Chief of Security. During the current era of BLOOD BOWL, Boris is the Old Grizzled CEO and Commander in Cheif of the renowned Grogstout Arsenal.

[xtruss]

A Lager Darkly — In Search of Culmbacher, One of America’s Great, Extinct Beers

— Words By Michael Stein | Illustrations By Colette Holston | Published: March 17, 2021

A recipe for Culmbacher lives on in archival perpetuity in the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History in Washington, D.C. Introduced to American drinkers in the second half of the 19th century, the Lager style was born in Kulmbach, Germany before it found a receptive audience overseas. As its popularity increased in the ensuing decades, scores of breweries started making it, from New York to California.

According to source material, the original, Old World Kulmbacher was a dark beer. It had a pronounced malt flavor and a sweetish taste. For American brewers, it had Bavarian characteristics, in that it was brewed along the lines of a Bavarian Lager, with a strong starting gravity. Perhaps the greatest variation between the German original and the American adaptation is that U.S.-made Culmbacher was sometimes brewed to be a near beer—that is, high in extract and low in alcohol.

Borrowing a page from Germany, American brewers sold copious quantities of kegs to the beer-drinking public in biergartens adjacent to their breweries, or elsewhere across town. In Washington, D.C., where the historic Washington Brewery Company once produced large volumes of the style, numerous biergartens were run by German immigrants. Another was run by a Frenchman who, every July 14, staged a reenactment of the storming of the Bastille. And down by the docks, where there is still a seafood market today, customers would crush foaming seidels as they cracked hard-shelled Chesapeake crabs.

But for all the ways that Culmbacher reflected the push-and-pull of German-American beer culture and identity, the style was not to last. Ultimately, the nativism and xenophobic sentiment that sprung up around World War I meant that German beer traditions began to fall out of favor. Later, the hope that Culmbacher would weather Prohibition was a fanciful one, as most breweries that produced it ultimately closed. Today there is little trace of the style, beyond the recipe for “Kulmbacher” (it was spelled with a “C” in some places, and in others with a “K”) that remains in the National Museum of American History’s archives, on a single, typewritten page.

Still, discovering this trace—knowing that a shadow of this beer existed, even in obscurity—convinced me that Culmbacher could, and deserved to be, revived. When I read the recipe for the extinct near beer, I knew then, there in the archives in 2016, that I had to convince a brewer to help me recreate it.

Two Countries, Two Recipes

As early as 1831, Kulmbach began exporting beer to Saxony and other parts of Germany. Around 1863 and 1864, Kulmbach was exporting as much as 96,000 hectoliters of beer—or over 81,000 barrels. In 1868, the U.S. and Australia were listed as export markets. By 1896, Kulmbach was producing 600,000 hectoliters of Kulmbacher, or over half a million BBLs.

Beer historian Ron Pattinson has, in his collection, an 1879 Kulmbacher Export recipe made with two German malts, Munich and Carafa. The German recipe yielded a beer at 6.2% alcohol by volume, which was typical: In the 1880s, analysis of the Bavarian export showed it ranged from 5.2% to 6.6% ABV. (Once it arrived in the U.S., the style diminished in strength in many cases—Milwaukee’s Blatz Brewing Company, for instance, brewed a Culmbacher at 4.75% ABV.)

There are still many mysteries surrounding Kulmbach’s eponymous style, including its spelling. To begin: Is “Culmbacher” just an anglicized version of its name?

“I would have said ‘Culmbacher’ was an anglicized version, except I’ve seen a Heineken version with that spelling,” Pattinson says. “Which leaves me wondering where the hell it came from.”

“Beers were named after their hometown but they came to be brands and styles brewed elsewhere as well,” says Mark Dredge, author of A Brief History of Lager. “I don’t know why the ‘K’ or the ‘C’ in the spelling. Perhaps it was due to not wanting trademark infringements, as there were plenty at the end of the 1800s.” As an example, he notes the seemingly small but important differences between “Pils” and “Pilsener”: “Heineken was one of the first to add the extra ‘e’ in Pilsner, so maybe that’s why they had a ‘Culmbacher,’” he says. The difference between Dutch “Bok” and German “Bock” is another form of this discrepancy.

Further complicating our understanding of Kulmbacher is the fact that it could be brewed as a very low-alcohol near beer. In the 1920s, Pabst’s Kulmbacher contained less than .5% ABV. As for the recipe I found in the Smithsonian’s archives, which was donated by Walter Voigt—the son of German immigrants who was born in 1906, and who was a member of the Master Brewers Association of the Americas—the piece of paper reads in all capitals: “Malt to be used for various types of near beer.”

Voigt’s Kulmbacher recipe contains four malts: high-dried, pale, caramel, and black. Missing from the recipe are hops, corn, and yeast. As Pattinson puts it, the recipe “looks to have been adapted to U.S. malts. You wouldn’t see high-dried in Germany. The equivalent would be Munich malt.” He goes on to speculate that it “could also be that they had added different malts to give the near beer more body. Body might well be the reason for skipping the adjuncts, too.”

Dark Lager's Bright Rise

In Bavaria in 1863, master glassmaker Simon Hering began brewing on a large scale. His brewery, Export-Bier-Brauerei Simon Hering, started exporting beer to the United States in 1864, during the Civil War.

Hering was the first German brewer I could find who exported Kulmbacher to the U.S. However, there seemed to be earlier awareness of the style: In a German-language newspaper in the Library of Congress, an 1861 article published in Minnesota states that Benzberg’s Dampfbrauerei made Lager in St. Paul, and that it was as good as Culmbacher or Nürnberger.

“Eventually, as the years wore on, the U.S. began to import less Lager in favor of brewing it at home. That change happened gradually, as German-American brewers began to produce their own versions of traditional styles. ”

It was becoming common in the mid 19th century for exported German Lager to be bottled and sold stateside. Such beer wouldn’t have made the trip to America without demand. The largest contingent of immigrants in the Union army were German soldiers. Kulmbacher appealed to those immigrants as a product they could buy from the old country, in the new one.

Eventually, as the years wore on, the U.S. began to import less Lager in favor of brewing it at home. That change happened gradually, as German-American brewers began to produce their own versions of traditional styles.

In 1875, a saloon owner in Wheeling, West Virginia began his Lager beer-bottling business, and would deliver pints and quarts throughout the city. The same dealer advertised Kulmbacher in 1880. In 1889, a Pittsburgh brewer manufactured Culmbacher and Vienna Lagers for city use. And in 1889, the Washington Brewery Company sold more Lager in D.C. than all breweries currently operating in the District today: 36,000 BBLs of beer in 1889, versus a combined 35,857 BBLs from 12 breweries in 2019. By 1900, the Washington Brewery Company boasted that its Culmbacher equaled the finest imported beer. This would become a common claim for American brewers who wished to convince the beer-buying public that their product was just as good as, if not better than, German imports.

As domestic Lager proliferated at the turn of the 20th century, American breweries made dark beers from coast to coast. In its heyday, Culmbacher was brewed everywhere from New York City and Washington, D.C. to Milwaukee and San Jose. By 1909, Kulmbacher and Pilsner were even available at the Criterion Hotel in Honolulu, Hawaii. The beer was likely the imported article, though Honolulu did have its own brewery in 1909, making Pale Lager in the German style.

Today, former Culmbacher producers like Pabst and Blatz are better known than their historical competition. But in addition to businesses like the Washington Brewery Company, little-known breweries like the Fredericksburg Brewery in San Jose and the Lion Brewery in New York City also manufactured Culmbacher.

For Relaxing Times

In the early days of Culmbacher’s spread, the style was advertised mostly on draft. If you wanted it in Los Angeles in 1884, it would cost you five cents a glass for the Kulmbacher Lager brewed by the Fredericksburg Brewery, which could be quaffed at both Jake Phillipi’s Buena Vista or the Grand Central Hotel saloon.

The later transition from the saloon to the biergarten likely allowed brewers to sell more beer. In many cases, it benefited drinkers, too. At the Washington Brewery Company, for instance, the brewery’s biergarten was right next to the brewery. The Culmbacher manufactured, cellared, and eventually sold on draft there never traveled more than a hundred yards.

The concept of drinking for pleasure, rather than intoxication, is commonly credited to the influence of German beer culture. And if it was American to have drinking in saloons limited to men, it was German to have women drinking in biergartens. In 1885 in D.C., one saloon—Kozel’s Saloon on 14th Street—expanded to the back of a lot and took over a second floor. The second floor became a special room for women patrons.

Even if American societal norms frowned on women drinking Culmbacher in public, a case of beer for home use could be delivered in unmarked wagons, lest your neighbor judge. Washington Brewery Company encouraged consumers to “keep your ice box well supplied” with Culmbacher, which was also sold in 24-pint or 12-quart bottles. By the end of the 19th century, the brewery was marketing directly to women: Its beer was pure. It was as good as the imported article. It had double strength. And it was the best of all tonics. In fact, it was unsurpassed as a tonic. Alongside claims that it was calming to a woman’s nerves and stimulating to her appetite, depictions of women drinkers were featured in its ads.

“Double strength” here implies an alcoholic beer, at a time when we know some Lagers were 3% ABV and that the export beer coming out of Kulmbach was 6% ABV. While the Washington Brewery Company’s Culmbacher might not have had the same recipe as the Kulmbacher in the National Museum of American History’s archives, there is no doubt it was advertised to the public as “heavy in body.”

According to Truth, a London periodical in 1889, “American lager beer breweries possess great advantages over others, as thin light beer is the national drink of the United States, and suitable to the climate.” While thin light beer may have been the national drink, it had competition in the rich, potent Dark Lager sold across the country.

Several breweries that made Culmbacher, in addition to other Lager styles, were successful enough that they made attractive entities for acquisition. In 1889, the owner of the Washington Brewery Company was paid $400,000 for his brewery—over $11 million in today’s money. Similarly, in 1891, Valentin Blatz Brewing Company in Milwaukee sold for $3 million to a London investment group, or for between $80 and $90 million today. And while there’s no proof that these breweries were bought directly because of their Culmbacher production, they were able to build their reputations—and their fortunes—off the back of such Lager styles.

By Prohibition, an irrevocable transition had occurred from Kulmbacher as an import, bottled stateside, to Culmbacher, a domestically brewed beer. In the course of five decades, the recipe had also changed: The beer had gone from a strong Bavarian beer brewed with German malt, to, in some cases, a non-alcoholic near beer brewed with American-grown barley.

While the Washington Brewery Company went out of business in 1917, it is noteworthy that Blatz brewed the style even after Prohibition’s repeal. Blatz’s Kulmbacher won silver at the first-ever judged Great American Beer Festival in 1987, in the American Lagers category. At the time, the brewery was owned by G. Heileman Brewing Co. of La Crosse, Wisconsin.

Evil, Traitors, Spirs

Lagers remain America’s most popular beers today. But there was a point in time when temperance advocates and anti-immigration backers viewed them as too German.

At the beginning of the 20th century, Germans still made up the largest ethnic group among immigrants to the United States, as they had done throughout the 19th century. Between 1820 and World War I, nearly 6 million Germans arrived in the United States.

“‘They [Germans] changed America, notably its own beer-drinking culture, and America changed them right back. Naturally that led to some friction ranging from friendly to violent. And for all their ‘palatability’ to white, Anglo-American sensibilities, they could never seem to fully shake nativist animus either. Anti-German xenophobia during World War I showed that.’” — Brian Alberts, Historian

“They [Germans] changed America, notably its own beer-drinking culture, and America changed them right back,” says historian Brian Alberts. “Naturally that led to some friction ranging from friendly to violent. And for all their ‘palatability’ to white, Anglo-American sensibilities, they could never seem to fully shake nativist animus either. Anti-German xenophobia during World War I showed that.”

Anti-German sentiments flared leading up to World War I. From 1850 to 1870, Germans largely gained acceptance from white Americans. But, Alberts says, Germans “were the ‘other’ in a predominately Anglo-American society because [they thought] their neighborhoods stunk of sausage and Limburger cheese, and they let the Lager beer pour every Sunday.”

According to Alberts, Sunday festivities, parades, and biergarten picnics “seemed sacrilegious to some.” These modern aspects of German-American beer culture were regularly celebrated, but the xenophobia associated with bringing your family to the biergarten was often glossed over.

During World War I, that xenophobia extended to food and drink. Sauerkraut was rebranded as “liberty cabbage,” and hamburgers became Salisbury steak. Symphonies were banned from performing Beethoven. Teaching German was struck from many curriculums and angry mobs attacked German-American citizens. Violence resulted in beatings, or even murder.

In 1917, the Trading With the Enemy Act legalized seizing citizens’ businesses and livelihoods. New York brewer George Ehret’s mansion and brewery were both seized. At the time, his Hell Gate Brewery was the biggest in New York City. His estate, property, and possessions, worth $40 million, were all taken.

I asked Maureen Ogle, historian and author of Ambitious Brew: The Story of American Beer, which had had a bigger impact on German-Americans’ lives—the state-sanctioned xenophobia or the daily harassments they experienced. “Probably the state-sanctioned attacks, because those, in effect, gave regular folks ‘permission’ to act violently towards German-Americans,” she says. “Certainly the news, national, that the AG [attorney general] had gone after brewers’ property affirmed a belief that German-Americans were evil, traitors, spies, etc. Never mind that they were American citizens.”

Even citizenship could not save German-Americans from having their property seized, being beaten, or in the case of at least one man, being hung. Robert Prager was a German immigrant who was lynched in Collinsville, Illinois in 1918. Prager had been a mine worker, but was denied membership in the United Mine Workers of America. The dispute ultimately led to his death at the hands of an angry mob of hundreds. The marauders made Prager kiss the American flag and sing patriotic songs before ultimately taking his life. There were no convictions in Prager’s murder, and the 12 men indicted walked away from the trial.

Of course, angry mobs have used terrorism, and lynching, for centuries in America, with Black people making up the vast majority of the victims. Multiple anti-lynching bills have passed the House and the Senate, but never at the same time. The Dyer Anti-Lynching Bill, first introduced in 1918, passed the House of Representatives in 1922. And while the first anti-lynching bill was introduced in Congress in 1900, still to this day no bill has been passed by both houses and signed.

The Comeback of Culmbacher

It’s tricky to pinpoint why Culmbacher was lost to history. In the U.S., multiple factors led to its decline, while according to Pattinson, Kulmbacher isn’t even brewed in Kulmbach today. Other traditional German styles can be found in breweries in Kulmbach, he says, but “no one really brews a beer in what I would call the ‘Kulmbacher style’—something that’s 16 degrees Plato, virtually black, and loads and loads of hops in it.”

Perhaps that’s why, when I saw that typewritten recipe in the museum archive, I knew I had to at least attempt to bring it back. So I reached out to the master brewer who helped me take my first homebrew recipe commercial in 2012: Favio Garcia, the director of brewing operations at Dynasty Brewing Company in Ashburn, Virginia.

“‘Certainly the news, national, that the AG [attorney general] had gone after brewers’ property affirmed a belief that German-Americans were evil, traitors, spies, etc. Never mind that they were American citizens.’” — Maureen Ogle, Historian

Garcia first brewed a Kulmbacher in 2016, sticking entirely to the historical malt bill outlined in the Smithsonian’s archives. Its requirements were 11 lbs of high-dried malt, 33 lbs of pale malt, 3 lbs of caramel malt, and 1 lb of black malt. In 2016, this was translated to 11 lbs of Vienna malt, 33 lbs of pale malt, 3 lbs of Caramunich malt, and 1 lb of Carafa Special 3. We hopped it with the American Empire hop, which originated in Sweden but whose new stock was propagated on a farm on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

The resulting beer was historically accurate with its malt proportions, but it wasn’t dark, and it wasn’t the immaculate beer Garcia is renowned for. The 2-BBL batch had a bitterness that clashed with the black and caramel malts; the resulting beer came across as a dry Lager. It was not the full-bodied, sweetish, rich Bavarian beer described in the source material.

In 2020, Garcia returned to the recipe. In addition to a mild tweaking of the recipe from the archives, Garcia also came armed with more primary research conducted by Ron Pattinson. He employed a decoction mash with two steps, and used German and Czech hops instead of American.

Garcia also selected Virginia malt from Murphy & Rude Malting Company. In the mash tun, Pilsner and crystal malts mingled with Vienna malt, made from a 2-row variety of barley called Calypso. It was grown on the Brann & King Farms in Christiansburg, Virginia. Later, he added black malt to color the wort. In the end, Garcia used 660 lbs of Pilsner malt, 300 lbs of Vienna malt, 50 pounds of crystal 40, and 50 pounds of Carafa Special 3.

Where the first batch of Garcia’s Kulmbacher was pale brown, the new iteration looked like a Stout. There was an unmistakable German and Czech hop character to the beer, and it had a perceived sweetness on the first sip, followed by a subtle bitterness and a pleasing dryness on the finish. It was a wonderful expression of fresh malt, and featured a deep bready character that was somehow sweet, full, dry, and very digestible all at once. At 6.2% ABV, it was stronger than most of the Lagers Garcia brews.

The beer, Love Vigilantes, is named after the New Order song. It was a three-part collaboration beer with Dynasty; Dulles, Virginia’s Ocelot Brewing Company; and my beverage research firm, Lost Lagers. My greater goal with the beer is to bring back something stuck in beer history that deserves a place in the beer world today.

My bias is shaped by my father, who came to New York City as a refugee from war-torn Prague. When he came, he only had his mother. His father, a Jewish concentration-camp survivor, couldn’t get a visa. So Petr Stein became Peter Stein, and a boy who lived in a room the size of a closet with his mother wound up becoming a doctor of sociology, a published author, and the director of a graduate sociology program featuring Holocaust and genocide studies. My grandfather experienced the loss of his family in death camps while he survived his interment in the Theresienstadt concentration camp. But he had his life, and his wife and son had visas, and eventually they were reunited in New York.

In spaces where we have the ability to ask hard questions, be it about beer or what we believe to be right or wrong in terms of immigration, we, humans, have endless opportunities to improve ourselves.

“Kulmbacher” on paper in the archives, as it sat for the better part of a century, was made better with its second modern brewing. And its story cannot be told without acknowledging its origins, and the people who made and shaped the style as it evolved. I hope we can all find our own time-lost Kulmbacher—that we can discover and revive vestiges from the past that still speak to, and make sense of, the world today.

— Michael Stein is President of Lost Lagers, Washington, DC’s premier beverage research firm. His historic beers have been served at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History and the Polish Ambassador’s residence. Senior Staff Writer at DCBeer, his work appears in Washington City Paper, Brewery History Journal, and CIDERCRAFT Magazine.

— Source Material: Delving into the archives, digging up artifacts, and finding voices in the dark, this series illuminates old traditions that we're still part of today (whether we know it or not). Beer's past shapes its present and future. Follow along as these historians and writers take us back to the source.

— GoodBeerHunting.Com | September 10, 2023

[ts1depot]

San Marina Has Been Officially Released!

The long wait is over! San Marina, the WIP that was delayed over the summer, is finally available for download!

Quick Rundown:

212 Lots!

10 districts

Heavily populated, with bios and town lore!

Celebrity sims who might look familiar to TV and movie fans!

Needs everything =except= Into the Future and Supernatural

Only CC is Riverview, the free world from The Sims 3 store.

A homeless challenge

And much, much more!

Links to and description of the world@ The Sims Depot

Edited to Add (10-25-24)

There are two lots that have minor errors. New versions have been uploaded. They are The Poseidon Community Center and The Old Tyme Brewery Inc. Click on the links to download at The Sims 3 Exchange. More information about this at The Sims Depot.com.

Watch Bike Video Tour Below!

[theseptembersim]

The Old Brewery Karaoke Bar

Converted brewery factory into an industrial venue for your Sims to sing horrible out of tune pop songs.

MOO and debug used Bath: 4 World: San Myshuno Type: Karaoke Bar

Origin ID is TheSeptemberSim

You can watch the speed build here

If you would like to download this build please use the links below. Although all my builds are no CC, I use a custom thumbnail so make sure 'modded' is checked to see this in your game.

NO ADS

DOWNLOAD (sfs)

If you would like to support me, consider buying me a coffee ❤️

[littlemourningstarr]

Purge the Desire

Astarion was convinced no one else could have stomached Thisobald's brew- but even his undead stomach can't handle whatever vile concoction the grotesque had him guzzle down. And, having not fed in days, he finds himself in quite the sorry state, in need of help he doesn't believe he truly deserves.

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Gale x Halsin

Tags: Sickfic, Vomiting, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Edging

Astarion reached out, placed his hand on the old wooden wall, squeezing his eyes shut to try and close out the endless spinning. He’d kept himself together while downing that vile brew Thisobald pushed his way, until the grotesque and finally burst. Hells, he’d kept himself together while the party had explored the Waning Moon, picked up a few odds and ends that could be useful.

But he was fraying at the seams, and he knew it. He had hoped because it was just a liquid he’d be able to keep whatever hells was in that tankard down, that his body could adjust. Hells, he could drink wine typically.

But whatever the brew was laced with was wrecking him. His stomach was in tight knots, cramping so tightly it was as if it  was folding in on itself, and yet something was alive in there and clawing its way out.

“Astarion?”

Gale’s voice broke the strange ringing that had begun in Astarion’s ears. He opened his eyes, turned- and the wizard was a step back, looking at him skeptically. Astarion straightened up, squared his shoulders. “Hmm?”

He pointedly did not turn to face Gale. But he could hear his footsteps as he walked closer, and dammit all, around to face him properly. His brows shot up when he took in Astarion’s face- which must have had a paler strong for even the vampire, the skin around his eyes dark.

“Are you quite alright?” Astarion waved him off, but couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth, to form words. His saliva was thick, yet his tongue felt swollen and dry somehow. He was sure any words would only be half formed. He just needed to get out of there, back to Last Light, take a second to compose himself, vomit up all of this noxious concoction sloshing in his stomach.

He’d be fine.

But as he tried to wave Gale off the world spun around him, and suddenly Astarion was pitching forward. Gale’s hands grasped at his biceps, held him up as Astarion sagged against him, his forehead pressing into the wizard’s shoulder. He could register shock in Gale’s voice as the man said his name again, then a frantic pitch as he called out to Halsin and Shadowheart, who were still roaming the brewery. Astarion wanted to tell him to shut up, not to call the others, not to worry anyone. He was as fine as ever, right as rain-

He felt his knees buckle then, and Gale’s grip tightened on him, just as he could hear Shadowheart and Halsiun’s footsteps- and then the latter running to reach for him, pulling his weight from a struggling Gale.

Astarion felt Halsin’s large hands on his waist, leaning him against him, and gods above despite the delirium he was feeling, it was so lovely to lean into the Druid’s broad chest, feel a hellfire of heat radiating from him. He heard his name, and it took a moment for him to register that it was Shadowheart, a note of near panic barely hidden in her voice.

“Fine,” he managed, his voice cracking.

“Like hell,” she cursed, and Astarion managed to turn his head, take her in. Frantic eyes and a stern, utterly pissed off mouth. “You shouldn’t have drank whatever hell was in a cup down there.”

Astarion tried to lick his lips, got as far as getting his tongue to  poke at his fangs. He couldn’t tell her that he didn’t trust any of them to handle it otherwise. The only other companion he thought could have handled it would have been Karlach, but she had stayed back at Last Light today. The others wouldn’t have the stomach for it.

He assumed it would have been like anything else his stomach couldn’t digest- he’d just purge later and feel a bit uncomfortable. He’d even tried to mime drinking, but Thisobald’s comment on such a small drink had worried him that his charade had been seen through. He’d drained a whole tankard by the end.

“Jus-need’to” his words were slurring, and he closed his eyes again, his lids so heavy. Was that sleep, crepeing in at the edges of his consciousness? The goddess he so seldom knew- never since his undeath, no. Cazador had never dined to give him the gift of sleep.

“Get back to Last Light.” Halsin, his voice somehow calm, a deep rumble that made his chest vibrate, pleasantly pulsed through Astarion. “We’ll follow shortly.”

“The curse,” Gale started, but Halsin shifted Astarion slightly, held up a hand to silence him.

“Shadowheart need not fear the dark.”

Not while Shar still looked at her so fondly.

Shadowheart nodded. “I’ll tell them you’re bringing him back in bad shape.” She reached out, dared to touch Astarion’s shoulder. He wished he could feel her fingertips through his armor, but all he got was a subtle pressure.

She was gone quickly, running, and then he was suddenly being lifted, carried over the threshold of the Waning Moon. The old wooden board creaked, and then it was Halsin’s boots in the fetid soil outside. Astarion opened his eyes, trying so hard to keep himself present, could see Gale keeping stride with Halsin, just looking at Astarion.

He was worried. Or at least, he looked it. And of course he was, Astarion was an asset, they needed him-

Astarion told himself not to be delusional and think it was anything more.

Halsin knelt down, and began easing Astarion onto the ground. Gale threw himself down onto his knees, grimaced at the ache that shot through them as he helped adjust Astarion to be kneeling.

“We need to get it out of him,” Halsin said, “all of it.” Astarion braced his hands on the Druid’s shoulders, pushed himself away gently. He knew that.

“Gim-me a… moment.” He tried, before he swayed, and suddenly his shoulder was crashing into the ground before any of his companions could catch him. His arms felt like dead weight then, and he realized his body was beginning to shut down, to ignore his mental pleas to move.

“He can’t do it himself,” Halsin said, gathering him back up, holding his limp weight with such ease. Astarion tried to blink, but the dark around him was swimming, and even his eyelids felt foreign. “And I’m afraid he might choke on my fingers.”

There wasn’t a single second of debate after that.  Halsin kept an arm braced around Astarion’s chest, keeping him from collapsing again, and Gale grasped his chin in one hand, forcing his mouth open. “I’m sorry,” he said, rather softly, before two fingers pushed over Astarion’s tongue, back against his throat. Astarion felt his mouth water, drool thick under his tongue, and then his throat clench up over the intrusion.

Gale pulled his fingers out, and Halsin gave Astarion enough slack to lean over, mouth hanging open as his stomach turned. For a single moment he thought he might not wretch, but then he could feel his mouth salivating more, his stomach aching so badly he whimpered, and then that fiery convulsion of muscle.

He gagged, coughed up a thin stream of oily bile, before his stomach released on its second attempt. The liquid was bitter laced, much more sour than when he’d first drank it down. It felt oil like on his tongue, over his lips as he vomited into the acrid dirt. His throat burned.

“Good,” Halsin said, softly, and in any other moment Astarion would have silently bristled over the praise, reveled in it silently. Now he could barely focus on who was even with him.

He felt a hand, Gale’s, pushing his hair back as he coughed, vomited a second time. Acidic now, as his stomach had little to give now that the ghost of Thisobald’s brew was sinking into the hungry, dying dirt of the Shadowlands. Astarion could feel sweat prickling on his spine, his scalp, and he wanted to push Gale’s hand away- but gods it felt nice, and he still couldn’t bring his arms to even move.

He coughed again, a pathetic, broken sound leaving him as he gagged, heaved, but his stomach had no more to give. Halsin hushed him, and Astarion squeezed his eyes shut. Could feel tears brimming at the corners of his eyes.

Before he could even think the word pathetic, the world melted away, and there was simply nothing.

*

When reality filtered back in, Astarion felt different. Lighter. He forced his eyes open- and the ached- was met by the dim lantern light of a small room. He was lying on his back, and he realized quickly in a bed. His armor was gone.

He sat up, grimaced as the movement set his head to pounding. He reached up, cradled his forehead, his hair coming free in wild, unkempt curls. He closed his eyes against the pain, tried to piece together what in the ever living hells had happened.

The Waning Moon. Thisobald. That vile brew.

Haslin’s arms around him.

Gale’s fingers in his mouth.

He groaned, the pit of his belly sinking further. He couldn’t even hold himself together long enough to get back to Last Light on his own, pathetic. He should have known he wouldn’t have had the fucking stones to handle whatever the was, but gods above and below he couldn’t put the other through it, and- and…

And maybe he wanted to seem strong in their eyes.

The creak of the old wooden door snapped him from his thoughts. He let his hand fall from his forehead, turned- and Karlach was peeking just her head in. “Hey soldier,” she offered, boisterous voice rather soft. She didn’t move to push the door open more until Astarion gave her a nod, and then she was inside, pushing the door shut. She had a small glass in one hand. “Heard the bed creak, figured you were back with us. You didn’t move an inch otherwise, worse than the dead.”

Astarion snorted a very undignified laugh, and Karlach grinned at him. “Funny,” he said, relaxing just a little. It was hard not to, around her.

She walked over and sat on the bed, reached out her free hand and pressed it to his forehead. He was chilled as usual, skin damp with a layer of sweat that he was becoming all too conscious of. He wanted a bath. He wanted a potion to actually sleep for the first time in near two-hundred years.

He wanted to fucking feed so his body could recover.

Despite it all, he leaned into her touch a little. Now that Dammon had her as tuned up as possible, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from constantly touching someone. Astarion had never said he liked it, because her touches were so innocent, sweet and without purpose other than to soothe.

That, and she burned as hot as the hells, and he wanted nothing more than to be completely enveloped in that heat.

“How are you feeling?”

Astarion huffed. “Like shit.” He ran his tongue along his teeth, felt like his mouth was coated in a thin, oily layer, like the sweat on his body. He hated it. The sour, near bitter taste in his mouth made his stomach threaten to roll.

Karlach held out the glass- it looked like water, but Astarion could smell it. Something refreshing, minty. “Wyll mixed you up something to rinse your mouth out. Figured you’d probably be tastin’ death right about now.”

“My savior,” Astarion purred, mocking but not in all truth. He took the glass happily and swished the water in his mouth, the sour taste melting away to something quite refreshing. He spat back into the cup, and Karlach took it like a doting mother.

“I heard you put on quite a show for a Thorm,” Karlach said, as Astarion shifted in the bed, plucking at his shirt and trying to pull it from his damp skin. “Gale said you drank like the lads back in Waterdeep after a good round of debate on… fuck, I forgot the rest.”

Astarion almost laughed. Almost. “Someone had to.”

“But why you?”

She would ask that. Astarion hated that Karlach could read them all. Hated, and loved, loved so fiercely it hurt-

He swallowed that down. That word had no right to be in his life, for any of these people. They didn’t deserve that kind of curse.

“Who else?” he asked, lifting his chin and trying to brush his curls back, as if putting himself back in order. “If you’d been there maybe I’d have let you, but the others? It would have ruined them.”

“Almost sounds like you were worried about us.” Astarion jerked his head to the side, realized the door to the small bedroom had opened. Gale was standing there, for once with an expression Astarion couldn’t read.

And of course he had been. But dammit, they didn’t need to know that. Before he could say anything though, Karlach was standing up, walking over to the door. “I’m gonna go… somewhere,” she said, and Astarion wanted to scream at her that she had better not dare leave right now-

She was gone. And Gale was in the room now, leaning against the closed door, arms folded. Studying him. Astarion frowned. “What?”

“It was awful nice, you taking one for the team, so to speak.”

“Well, you’re all no use to me dead.” Astarion tried to sound detached, but his throat caught. “And of course I would have been the most ideal choice. My stomach is dead anyway.”

“I’d really argue differently.” Gale took a few steps from the door, then stopped, standing awkwardly in the very small room. The lantern was casting oranges and yellows on his skin, as if he was made of gold. Astarion’s dead heart leapt.

He cursed himself inwardly for it.

“You didn’t exactly handle it well.” Gale’s voice was almost teasing.

“I held myself together as long as I needed to!” Astarion yelled, but it only made Gale smile. And gods damn it all, that stupid little smile made Astarion’s own lips quirk. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?” Gale asked, inclining his head, quite obviously acting oblivious.

“Smiling!”

“Why?” He reached up, tapped his chin. “Could it be that I’m simply too charming and my smile is infectious?” Astarion bared his fangs, reached behind him for the lumpy pillow on the bed, and chucked it at Gale. It smacked him in the face, and Gale chuckled. He seemed about to throw it back, when the door opened again, and Halsin filled the impossibly small room.

“Ah, he’s awake.” Astarion grasped at the sheets on the bed, the mere sight of the large elf reminding him how easily his arms had wrapped around him. How solid his chest had been, against Astarion’s back.

“Awake and caddy as ever,” Gale said, still holding the pillow as Halsin shut the door. “He seems to think our palettes were all simply too weak to handle whatever Thisobald was dishing out.”

Halsin frowned, and Astarion knew the argument that was coming before the Druid opened his mouth. He was the largest so he should have done it, it would have affected him the least-

“I couldn’t do that to any of you.” Astarion said it without meaning to. The moment he did, he pinched his lips shut, cursing himself for even speaking. He was getting too comfortable around all of them. “I’m dead, what does it matter?”

“I would argue death is but a technicality here,” Gale said, sounding more serious now. “You’re very much alive right now. Sure, you do have a fascinating healing metabolism when properly fed…” Gale trailed off then, and for a moment, the air in the room was heavy with silence.

It seemed both Halsin and Gale had the same realization in that moment, as they stared at Astarion, took in his pallor that was stronger than usual, the dark circles around his eyes. Eyes that were a bit listless, faded.

“Astarion,” Halsin said, his voice timber, sturdy, and yet soft. “When did you last feed?”

Astarion sighed. He reached up, waved his hand dismissively. “The days all bleed together-”

“Astarion.”

“Three days.” He could remember the exact moment, the dying cultist who had bled out so much there wasn’t much left, but gods it had been something. There was nothing living in the Shadowlands, nothing for him to hunt. And the undead had no life to give him. “But it’s no matter. I’m fine as ever.” He tossed the blanket aside, stood up quickly- and before he even realized he was falling, Halsin had taken the few steps to him, caught him and leaned his weight into his broad chest.

“Right,” Gale said, sarcasm thick. “Fine.”

“Fuck off,” Astarion mumbled, before he made a little shocked noise as Halsin lifted him. Halsin settled on the ground, Astarion in his lap, as he leaned his back against the bed.

“Easily fixed,” he said, “I’m here. Drink from me.”

Astarion choked, couldn’t even hide his reaction. The number of times he’d wondered what the Druid would taste like were countless. Nights spent unable to fall into a trance, pushing his face into the thin blankets in his own tent, sinking his fangs into fabric and desperately grinding against his hand, desire to be satiated in so many ways by the other elf driving him to madness.

“I,” Astarion managed, as he heard Gale kneeling down just behind him. His charm was gone, dead on his tongue. He swore he couldn’t even process a thought.

“I won’t see you starve,” Halsin said, as he helped prop Astarion up, until the vampire was straddling his lap. Astarion stared down at him, but Halsin’s eyes were all gentle, honest. It made Astarion sick with wanting, sick with needing.

In his heart, his soul, his gut, he would never believe he deserved to be looked at in such a way.

“I’d offer,” Gale added, “but you’d just end up vomiting again.” Astarion glanced back at him, a dizziness overcoming him. Gods damn them both.

He had no quip prepared. All he could do was lean over, nose at Halsin’s neck. The Druid tilted his head, offered the side of his throat without hesitation, and Astarion trembled. He could hear Halsin’s pulse, swimming in his head, and oh, he was so starved, the hunger inside him gnawing, clawing his gut open with serrated teeth.

He pulled his lips back, sank his fangs into Halsin’s neck.

The moment he did his mind erupted, colors flashing behind his eyes, in his skull. He moaned, couldn’t stop himself, leaning into Halsin more, the first few drops of blood sliding past his fangs, into his mouth. He felt Halsin’s hands on his waist, bracing him, keeping him steady. He didn’t so much as seem to wince.

Astarion pulled his fangs from Halsin’s neck, let his pulse pump a fresh wave of blood into his mouth. He swallowed greedily, feeling alive from just the first taste. He rocked against the Druid, hands grasping at Halsin’s shoulders. One of the hands on his waist moved, and suddenly Halsin’s thick fingers were treading in Astarion’s hair, twirling curls around his fingers and pressing his face closer.

“I have you,” he said, so softly Astarion wanted to sob. A choked noise did escape him, something undignified- and the moment it did, Gale’s hand was rubbing along his spine, seeming to not care about the dampness of Astarion’s shirt, from his sweat.

Somewhere in his mind, Astarion felt a frantic scream- his scars. Surely Gale would feel the rigid bits of flesh he had yet to show anyone. Surely he would wonder.

But the voice died, drowned in the calming wave of finally feeding, of Halsin’s warmth, Gale’s reassuring touch. Astarion pushed his tongue against the wound, shivered over the heavy taste of Halsin’s blood. It was what he had once joked he thought Gale would have tasted like. Aged brandy, woody, smokey. Intoxicating.

“Should I stop him?” he heard Gale ask- but his mind was drifting blissfully. It wasn’t until he heard Halsin’s responses that he came back to himself.

“No. I trust him to take only what he needs.”

Something burst in Astarion, something hot melting from his chest, dripping along his ribs. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back how they stung. Halsin had no reason to trust him.

And yet, and yet.

He pulled back, gasped a breath against Halsin’s neck. He felt Halsin’s fingers flex in his hair, against his scalp, and then Halsin pushing him back to his neck. “I’m alright,” he said, as if knowing what Astarion needed to hear.

Gods damn him.

Astarion pressed his mouth to the wound, laved his tongue over it again. This time he felt something, a rumble in Halsin, an almost-shiver. The hand on his waist tightened, held him so firmly, in a way Astarion was guilty of imagining far too many times. Except there was far more skin involved in those fantasies, and every nerve inside Astarion alight as Halsin buried so deeply in him he could plant himself like a sapling.

Astarion rocked his hips again, achingly hard, unable to fight it. He ground against Halsin, just as Gale’s hand on his back moved, and then Gale’s hands were both on his waist, holding him.

He might have thought Astarion was going unsteady. But oh, the thought of Gale’s soft fingers clutching his skin with bruising force was also not an unknown fantasy.-

The vampling pulled back, further this time, another gasped, unneeded breath leaving his lips. Halsin’s hand cradled the base of his skull, the Druid turning those gorgeous eyes on him, smiling so softly.

Astarion wanted to kiss him, crash his mouth against Halsin’s. Wanted Halsin to taste the blood on his tongue, the life he had given Astarion. Astarion wanted to sob into him, wanted to disappear.

He almost did. For a single second his eyes stared too longingly at Halsin’s lips, and he swore he gave himself away. But then there was a warm pressure against his spine, and Gale’s chin resting on his shoulder, his hands still tight on his waist.

“So? Come now, describe how he tastes.”

Astarion swallowed thickly, glanced away. He was growing far too aware of just how aroused he was- and that he could feel Gale’s heart, pounding against his back. Elevated.

He wouldn’t dare dream that what he was feeling might be mirrored in these two.

“Better than his neighboring woodland beasties,” Astarion managed, lifting his chin, trying to come back to himself. Already his mind felt clear, the fatigue that had laced his body leaving him. Whatever last dregs of Thisobald’s brew had managed to invade his system were quickly dying.

Halsin chuckled, his hand leaving Astarion’s hair. “I assume that is a compliment.”

Astarion gave a single, curt nod, still glancing away, unable to meet Halsin’s stare. “I would kill for a bath,” he mumbled, becoming even more aware of the layer of now cooled sweat on his skin.

“You could use one,” Gale teased, and Astarion twisted, dislodging Gale from his shoulder. He shoved the wizard with no force, and Gale grinned at him, stupidly charming and making Astarion want to laugh. “You are getting close to the corpse-smell now.”

“Go to hell.”

“Pick a layer and get me a tour guide. I’ll take notes.” Gale stood up slowly, grimacing as his knees ached over the motion- and Astarion pouted without meaning to. Halsin chuckled, and then before Astarion could do much else, Halsin was pushing him against his shoulder and chest, standing up as if Astarion weighed nothing and hadn’t just drank quite the fill of him.

“You’re both like children,” he said, with no malice or even annoyance in his voice. Astarion didn’t fight the hold- but pointedly did not look at Gale but across the room, away from them both. He was still aroused, and there was no way Halsin hadn’t noticed.

Yet the Druid said nothing at all. He simply set Astarion down gently so he was sitting on the bed, took his chin in his hands and tilted his face carefully, inspecting his eyes, the bit of color that had rushed to his cheeks. “You look much better now.”

In a voice that was soft, Astarion managed, “thank you.” Halsin only kept his smile, wiped a smudge of crimson from the corner of Astarion’s lips. Without much thought Astarion turned, caught the Druid’s thumb in his mouth, rolled his tongue over the digit to clean the blood away.

He heard Halsin’s breath catch. Astarion glanced up, eyes heavy lidded, white lashes hiding most of his irises- and it was a look he had used countless times, but not one he had meant to use on his companions.

Something seemed stoked in Halsin’s eyes, a golden fire brimming in a quiet forest. Yet Halsin pulled back, turned his eyes to Gale. “Let’s give him some time to collect himself.”

Gale furrowed his brow, but after a moment too long of taking in Halsin as well- and gods below, was everyone attracted to the Druid?

Astarion assumed so. Rightfully so.

“Fair enough.” He nodded at Astarion, seemed almost unsure what to do with himself for a moment, before he turned for the door, telling Halsin he’d help him clean his neck up. Astarion watched the door shut, listened to their footsteps leaving him-

Alone. In the near dark, the lantern beginning to die.

His breathing quickened as Astarion ran his tongue along his fangs, still tasted Halsin. He gripped at the bed for a moment, thinking perhaps calm was an option, that he could bring himself down from the delirium he was soaring towards-

Then he threw himself down on the bed, buried his face in the pillow Gale had at some point returned, and desperately clawed at his pants. He barely got his hand in before he was rutting against it and the bed, hips moving as if he was possessed. His cock slid with ease against his palm, slicking precum against his slightly warmed skin. Astarion whined, bit the pillow and pressed his tongue to it, trying to quiet himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut, drowned in the memory of Halsin’s taste. The Druid’s hand in his hair. The sheer warmth that radiated from him. But it almost wasn’t enough, not without Gale’s hands on his waist, and then pressed up against his back.

He groaned, stomach knotting. He’d let Gale take him, in Halsin’s lap. Gods, what a sheer joy it would be to have the wizard pressed along his back, heating up his scars, panting desperately in his ear as he drove his cock so far into Astarion that he saw stars. And Halsin there to tell Astarion he was good, so bloody good, taking everything so well-

Astarion gasped, threw himself onto his back and shoved his pants down his hips, taking himself properly in hand. His cock throbbed as he ran his thumb up along the underside, teased the sweet bundle of nerves below his glans. He arched a little, tipped his head back, sighed. Would Halsin let him feed, while Gale took him? Would he take him after? Before?

It didn’t matter, Astarion just wanted to be so lost in them he forgot everything. He became nothing, everything, all and none. He wanted them. Not because he was told to, not because it was some sort of transaction, his charming affection for safety, loyalty.

He wanted them simply because of who they were.

“Hells,” he gasped, thrusting up into his hand, And oh, what would it be like to have Gale’s legs around his waist, to have the man arching beneath him, sobbing in sheer ecstasy. Or Halsin, with his face pressed down into a pillow, Astarion able to see all that muscle along his back and shoulders as the Druid growled and grunted, his heat devouring Astarion whole.

Astarion pulled his hand away as he felt his stomach contracting, his balls tight to the point of aching. He didn’t want to come yet, though, gods no. He wanted to stay lost in this. He dragged just his fingertips down his shaft, back up- teased his slit as precum beaded. He bit his lip, couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually gotten himself off, and gods below, this was good.

He dragged his other hand up his chest, his neck, pooling his shirt awkwardly at his collar bone. His hand continued, dug into his own hair and pulled. The pain on his scalp was sharp but pleasing, and he hissed, his slick fingertips rubbing down his cock again. His hips shifted desperately, his body wanted more, more, more.

His eyes slid shut, and finally unable to take it, he took himself back in hand, firmly stroking quickly. His curls tangled around his own fingers, fingers he wished for Halsin’s, as he bit his lip- a lip he wished as Gale’s.

He came with a strangled cry on his lips, muffled just enough, his body arching, heels digging into the bed. Cum splattered along his pale belly, even dotted his ribs, as he stroked until it hurt. Only then did he go lax, hand falling to his side, as he panted, eyes slitting open to stare up into the dark.

The lantern had gone out.

Astarion felt a pleasant buzzing running through him, his body satiated in multiple ways now. He sighed, let his eyes fall shut, wished he wasn’t alone in the soft-edge bliss that was enveloping him.

And, because fate was never kind to him, there was a knock just as the static reached his fingertips, his toes. He sat up quickly, cursed and wasn’t even sure where to begin to hide the mess he was- but thankfully, the door remained closed.

“Astarion.” Gale’s voice, softer than it had been before. “Listen, if you… Halsin…” the man paused, and content that the door was going to remain shut, Astarion forced himself to smirk, to bring up the cocky bastard he liked to hide behind so well.

“What is it Gale? A tressym got your tongue? Or just the Druid?” Oh, he wished he could see Gale’s cheeks burning.

Gale cleared his throat. “Halsin had Karlach warm up some water. If you… need a hand, he and I are here.”

Color rose to Astarion’s cheeks. There was… something to the offer, some implication that he didn’t dare believe. He said something, not even sure what- but it was enough for Gale to leave.

Astarion took a deep breath, and told himself not to hope. To clean himself up, brush them off, and get back to being the darling charmer he tried so desperately to be. After all, if he allowed himself to think that maybe his desires were returned-

Well, he might start to wish for the warmth of Halsin’s arms, the safety of Gale’s hands. And those were things he was sure were strictly forbidden from the likes of him.

[stra-tek]

WARP CORE DEEP DIVE!

Where it all began. So much so, that they never quite nailed down what anything in engineering was. We know the thing in the middle was a "matter/antimatter integrator" and it had a dilithium crystal in it. But it didn't appear until later on, the floor was originally empty. There were also large transformer-ish things that moved about as the plot demanded. The big thing behind the mesh? That's the pipe cathedral. Maybe it was an impulse engine (as per the old Star Trek Blueprints by Franz Joseph) or perhaps it was part of the warp drive. Originally the idea was that the warp nacelles generated their own power. But that would change soon...

The Animated Series gave us something very similar to the TOS engine room, with the pipe cathedral and one BIG transformer, but instead of the matter/antimatter integrator we got a glass tube with what looked like measurements on it. Maybe it's a proto-warp core a la TMP, especially since it's in a similar spot to Strange New Worlds'. Or maybe it's a coolant pipe like the 2009 movie. Who knows? We also saw inside the "antimatter nacelle" in one episode, which is generally assumed to mean inside one of the warp engines themselves but it's all a bit vague.

The Motion Picture gave us the original Big Blue Lava Lamp, the physical set was 3 stories high but augmented with forced-perspective, in the form of a painting at the bottom of the shaft and a truncated horizontal intermix chamber crewed by children at the end of the main level. The engineering crew on the main deck now wear radiation suits, adding to the idea this big blue thing isn't your friend.

This was also the Big Retcon, making the intermix chamber the power source for the warp nacelles. Every Trek regardless of era would follow this route.

In Wrath of Khan, they'd add a very important side room with dilithium crystals in for Spock to self-sacrifice in. I always found it very amusing this room, where the most important part of the engineering machinery was, was in no way physically connected to the intermix chamber. Nor did it exist in the previous movie.

The Next Generation gave us a pot-bellied stove, with neon segments glowing one-by-one up and down to give the impression of pulses of energy colliding in the middle then being fed to the nacelles. No more radiation suits needed, and the room has a nice carpet. This was also the first time "warp core" was used, a phrase that would retroactively be applied to all the prior ones.

The Enterprise-E and DS9's Defiant would have bigger and smaller warp cores that were variations on the same theme as TNG.

Voyager brought back the classic Motion Picture big blue lava lamp, just without the horizontal tube this time. It does the nifty swirly thing too. Q Junior makes it do club lighting one time.

NX-01 Enterprise is just kind of this big industrial tank with some glowy bits. It's weird that in the classic movies they needed radiation suits to work in engineering, but in the series set 100 years earlier they didn't.

The 2009 reboot filmed engineering in a thinly disguised Budweiser brewery, which made the area look enourmous and extremely complex, but lost all the high tech clean room vibes prior shows had. What in real life were giant brewing tanks housed the intermix chambers which made up the warp core, which were ejected through a hatch in the roof at the end. This look was extremely controversial with some, but personally I loved it.

In Into Darkness the warp core looks like an almighty piece of kit, and that's because they shot on location at the Lawrence Livermore National Ignition Facility. It's a real-life fusion reactor. And then you can climb inside it and it turns out that inside is one very important laser thing, some dilithium crystals you barely see and lots of deadly radiation. At least the self sacrificing happens inside the core itself and not a weird separate side chamber this time. The brewery from the last movie was still there, implying this was all along even if we didn't visit it. But that complicates things because the bits they called the warp core are very different. Perhaps the intermix chambers ejected last movie and core seen here are all part of the same huge warp core system.

Strange New Worlds reboots the original... sort of. They put a vertical intermix chamber in there and instead of a mesh and forced perspective they've got an AR wall with an enourmous array of high tech pipes. But weirdly, the writers guide says the big AR wall with the updated pipe cathedral is the deflector dish machinery not the warp core. I guess the confusion makes it more authentic TOS.

[daughterofcain-67]

{jυsт вεcαυsε ι ℓσvε үσυ}

Jensen Ackles x Female Reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jensen had been busy but one day when he decides to surprise you just because he loves you. Simply meant for those who want to dance in the kitchen with your spouse for no reason, or go on old timey dates together.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: None~ Just a short little one shot with Jensen fluff. Jensen being a reassuring husband. Husband Jensen x Wife Reader.

Jensen had finished up filming a little promo as Soldier Boy for Gen V, the spin-off for The Boys. He was excited to play that role again since he had a lot of fun with the character on The Boys to begin with. It was a matter of days until the promo was released to the public.

Things were going well for him right now. He had even gotten some news that he would be touring around with Jared and the Supernatural cast again for some conventions and he was more than excited for that! He would be leaving in a couple of weeks for that.

But until then, he was staying busy with some other roles or promotions or whatever was going on with the brewery.

This afternoon, however, he finally had some time off. He told you that he was going to be busy all day making some plans and arrangements for going to the upcoming conventions, but he just wanted to surprise you. Especially since he married such a busy little bee.

While he spent his time filming and tending to the bar, you had a career of your own as a costume designer for musical artists and some bands whether its for their music videos or for what they would wear for their concerts. You had worked with Selena Gomez, Carrie Underwood, as well as Amy Lee from Evanescence, just to name a few individuals from some different genres of music.

He knew you had an eye for detail and that was one of the many things he loved about you. Amongst other traits you have of course.

So after his morning errands were done, he stopped by the store to pick up some surprises for you, which lead him to where he was now.

He was carrying in his little surprise when he opened the door to find you cleaning the kitchen listening to some music. When he looked at the tv since that's what you apparently decided to use, he saw that it was some song called 'How to be a Heartbreaker' by Marina and the Diamonds.

It sounded pretty upbeat and he chuckled to himself when he saw you dancing around to the chorus of this song while you were putting something away in the kitchen. He couldn't help the smile that was forming on his face.

You were adorable and he couldn't believe he actually married someone like you. There was never a moment when you couldn't light up his world.

He walked over to you when you didn't have anything in your hands, then he wrapped an arm around you from behind. In his hand was a bouquet of your favorite flowers just because.

"Now who's heart trying to break?" He asked.

You nearly jumped when you felt an arm wrap around you from behind but you smiled when you saw the flowers followed by the familiar voice of your husband.

You looked up at him and saw the grin on his face that made your heart flutter since the first day you met him. People have said that the honeymoon phase doesn't last that long but for you, it was unwavering. Sure there's disagreements and imperfections like any marriage, but you two were able to make it work and that was what mattered the most. You hoped that you two would have a long marriage.

“No one’s. The only heart I have is yours, and I’d like to keep it that way.” You heard Jensen chuckle before he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss on your lips.

When he pulled away you smiled when you looked at the flowers. You took them before you got out of his grasp, “Thank you for these, they’re beautiful! But I thought your day was booked.”

“Well, I said that but I may or may not have bent the truth a little.” Jensen replied while you were looking for a vase. Once you found one you placed the flowers inside and set them on the table.

“You’re free the rest of the day? That’s great! I know you needed some rest from your busy schedule.” You smiled before you walked towards him. He took one of your hands and twirled you around before pulling you into his chest, then he leaned down and kissed your shoulder.

“It is. I know that I’ll be gone for a while with the convention too. I wanted to spend as much time with you as I can, and today worked out perfectly.” You grinned at what he said and you heard the tv change to a slower song. You put on a random playlist on Spotify through your TV so it was a little unpredictable about what songs they’d play since you didn’t look before you clicked.

“How did I get so lucky to have you?” He smiled at what you said while he turned you around, placing a hand on your hip while keeping your other hands clasped together.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Dancing with my beautiful bride in our kitchen.” He replied and you snickered as you two started dancing around to whatever the song was. Based off the tune you could hear throughout the house it sounded like it was ‘Two is Better than One’ by Boys Like Girls. Perhaps your Spotify account was favoring some early 2000’s music at the moment.

As the two of you danced, you placed your head on his chest, smiling softly to yourself. It was the moments like these you appreciated most. You knew he was busy, but it was little things like this that let you know Jensen still cared despite his busy schedule.

You remembered the very first time the both of you danced as a married couple on your wedding day. It was truly the happiest day of your life. Your wedding was in the spring and you had an outdoor ceremony. All of your friends and family members were happy for the both of you.

“What are you thinking about, Love?” Jensen asked and you hummed a little.

“Reminiscing about our wedding.” You admitted.

Once the song was over, Jensen looked down at you before he kissed the top of your head. Then he got an idea.

“Why don’t you get dressed in something a little warmer and we’ll go out tonight? It’s supposed to be chilly this evening and I don’t want you getting yourself sick.” He said. You agreed and he watched you go upstairs to your room so you could change.

Once you were dressed in something warmer the two of you left the house so you both could enjoy yourselves. It had been a while since. You had a little date night.

He took you to a nice Italian restaurant where the both of you ate dinner and you had some dessert there. After that, he ended up taking you to a movie. However, tonight was your lucky night!

Jensen had managed to find a drive-in movie theatre. You thought those were practically extinct by now! But it was a sweet surprise nonetheless. You’ve always wanted to go into a drive in theatre and it was surreal that you were finally able to go. You both were even in the iconic ‘67 Impala that Jensen got to keep after Supernatural ended.

Everything felt so perfect.

You and Jensen were unbuckled and you were huddled together. His arm was around your waist and your head was on his shoulder as you both were looking at the screen watching ‘The Wedding Planner’ with Jennifer Lopez and Matthew McConaughey.

You knew Jensen wasn’t overly fond of romantic movies, and neither were you necessarily but you did like watching some of J. Lo’s movies every once in a while and you didn’t recall seeing this movie.

“Not even two minutes into the movie and she already reminds me of you.” You could hear Jensen say and you snickered.

“Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“You seem to be a little bit of a perfectionist. A hard worker. Dedicated to your job. But you look much better in those little suits with those pencil skirts than Jennifer does.” He chuckled and you smiled at the last part.

“Well it’s not easy planning and designing what people are going to wear in front of millions, potentially trillions of people.” You reminded and he just grinned as he laid his head down on top of your own as you watched the movie.

You got to the part of the movie where the children’s doctor saved the wedding planner. How a meeting like that happened must’ve been more than random chance. It seemed like fate, then again so did a lot of scripts for romantic movies like this. But of course there was always that problem to make romantic movies a bit more complicated.

“Now that’s in poor taste… if you’re engaged, you shouldn’t go with another girl to the movies or dance with her in the rain. That is a sure fire way to mess with a woman’s heart.” You said.

“Well, they have to have some sort of plot twist for these movies ya know.” He reminded and you grinned and shook your head.

“Yeah I suppose you’re right.”

You two continued to watch the movie and saw that McConaughey’s character saved Lopez’s character not once but twice now. But of course there was always that argument between the two characters to create a little angst.

“I can’t imagine how many weddings she’s seen not work out. This poor bride is going to get her heart broken. She’s got the worst judgement.” You said and he hummed a little.

“Yeah.. the bride and groom seem to be so incredibly different. I get that opposites attract but this a little too much.” He said.

Watching the beginning of this movie you started to wonder about a few things.

“Jensen? Did you ever have doubts if we would work out? I mean, we both have busy schedules… what if one day we’re too busy for each other and what if what everyone says about the honeymoon phase ending and we just fall apart?”

Jensen looked down at you and frowned a little, “Where’s this coming from, Darlin’?”

“I don’t know… I just hear things about couples losing their spark and I don’t want that ever happening to us…”

Jensen shifted and cupped your face so you could look up at him.

“I’ve never had a single doubt about us. Not one.” He reassured as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “Yeah you and I have busy careers.. That’s a part of life.”

“But the fact that you’re even concerned about something like that happening, and the fact that you don’t want the spark to leave either means that you’re willing to fight for us if that time ever comes. Sure for some couples the honeymoon phase doesn’t last forever. But how do you think that couples married for over fifty years works out? They don’t let that spark ever fade even if it flickers from time to time.”

You gazed into his eyes and you could see the sincerity behind them. You smiled softly as you lifted your hand and caressed his face as he continued, “You’ve made me the happiest man on the planet the moment you said yes when I proposed to you. And I know that there is nothing you and I can’t do together. Our marriage will last a lifetime. I meant it when I said till death do we part.”

Your smile grew a little bigger when you remembered his vows that day. He looked so handsome standing there at the altar and you remember getting emotional when he said those vows that day.

“You’re right… No matter how busy we get, as long as we always make sure we take that time out for each other, as long as we fight for one another, as long as we love one another, then that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?” You said and he smiled.

“And I’ll love you forever and always.” He promised.

You leaned up and kissed him, and you could feel him smiling into the kiss causing your heart to flutter just like it did the very first time you kissed him.

Needless to say, this was a pretty good date night with your husband. He always knew what to say, and you knew everything he said was truthful. You knew that your marriage would last a life and you’d always be Mrs. Jensen Ackles.

Hey guys! I was just feeling like writing some soft Jensen content. Needed some fluff in my life. Hope this little one shot brightened your day and put a smile on your face! Love you all~

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92

[cryptophasia-nabros]

Norway says its moose statue is tallest. What a load of bull, Canada retorts. - The Washington Post

https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/2019/01/31/norway-says-its-moose-statue-is-tallest-what-load-bull-canada-retorts/

Not content to let Colbert, an admitted American, compare Mac to a “papier-mâché dog from an abandoned theme park,” Moosehead Breweries (no relation) is donating $25,000 Canadian dollars, or about $19,000, to the cause.

https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/saskatchewan/mac-moose-tallest-moose-jaw-1.5314141

"I think he looks distinguished," Tourism Moose Jaw's executive director, Jacki L'Heureux-Mason, said Tuesday.

Don't worry, everything ended peacefully. (Ie. Canada won.)

https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/saskatchewan/moose-truce-twinning-cities-1.5046232

It has been agreed that Mac will reclaim the title as world's tallest moose with alterations that will be paid for with a $25,000 donation from Moosehead Breweries. Meanwhile, the four-year-old statue named Storelgen in Stor-Elvdal, will "forevermore be known as the shiniest and most attractive moose in the world."

Because, clearly, researching this moose conflict is the best use of my time.

[boeing747]

ive always felt that my calling was to live in different places to travel and see but i really really love prague so much. i love this city. i love this place so much that. all the news of war around the world makes me both grateful to live in peace and afraid because those people living in destruction never predicted it either.

and i simply cannot comprehend it. how could anyone take a step to destroy a city. a place where people live and love and are born and die???? why do that. there is so much meaning and i love it all. the human lives all weaved together into a metropolis, for better or for worse. i love every tram stop and every spiderweb and every underfunded railway station and every dog poop bag dispenser. the man who got out of his car at a red light to ask me if i was okay crying at the crosswalk. the ferry boat operator who is inseparable from his black lab. all my neighbors in my apartment block with their dogs and their cats and children and weed smell and endless drama. the crowded post office and the corner shop owners whose name i dont know but have seen once a week for years. every rushed walk to work trying to navigate past elementary school trips on the sidewalk and tourist groups from god knows where. the old women who glare at you if you take a microsecond longer than is acceptable to notice them and give them your seat. the fact that the southwestern riverside smells like raw pizza dough half the year from the industrial brewery. the teens they hire to stand around and tell people where to go when the metro isn't going. the ukranian man with a tesla who drove me home from work cause we live close together and why not. the bar owners who are too drunk to calculate your total so you gotta spend three minutes doing napkin math. the karaoke nights that i never go to but i know theyre there... the flight schools operating out of small strips in the outskirts and people blocking the road packing their van for their weekend camping trips and the coffee festivals and the opera nights and the outdoor theatres and the riverside "beach" resorts and the concert halls and the fire stations and the doctors outside the clinic smoking cigarettes on break next to the gym receptionists an drug store owners....

[positivexcellence]

hilarieburton: Before the clock strikes 12, I have to highlight my Day 4 pic for creatives that make the world a better place!!! And I have to give so much love and respect this this woman… @danneelackles512 .

Danneel is a dreamer. She can see an old house and turn it into the most hip, bohemian design palace you’ve ever seen. She can see a empty field and envision a brewery. She can see a basic pitch document and know how the entire series should look and feel.  She has impeccable intuition, and has made my life immeasurably better by being the voice of reason and support and unabashed mischief. 

Many many many moons ago (like 12 or 13 years), she and I conceived a movie idea called “Christmas Witches”. I can’t spoil the plot, but it’s FUN. And it’s still a dream of mine that we’ll get to make it together. Tonight felt a little bit like that movie,…just a couple witches, putting good energy out into the world. 🧙‍♀️ Thank you for being by my side Danneel. Thank you for loving me, warts and all. I adore you.  Go support this magic woman by following @familybusinessbeerco and @chaosmachineproductions

[djpain619]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Aleniheim Angel Shares Ready To Rumble

So now my Dwarf Team is finally Fully Finished to my Satisfaction.

Before when I quit painting them they were "good enough" but I wasn't really happy with them. Now after a months long hiatus I was recently hit with the inspiration to finish them. I painted Up the Cheerleaders, Beer Barrels, as well as the Mascot & Fumbble Secret League Positionals. I also went back and touched up all the Linemen and standard Positionals.

So here are the Cheerleaders and the Beer Barrels. The Barrels will be uses as reroll, turn, & Score Counters. The Cheerleaders will be Cheerleaders.

They will also be used as the Crew & Cargo for my Bugman's Carts... which still require Draft Ponies. I also plan to get some crates and write TNT on them, or order some Minecraft Lego TNT blocks or something so I can run them as Mining Carts.

Here are my Linemen, Blitzers, and Slayers. For the Linemen I mainly painted the Cheek Vents and Back of the helmets as well as the Belt Buckle abdominal plate... thing. Then I updated the Backpacks to paint the Gauges, the Vents, and a little Blue Glow on the round part that I like to think is a reactor.

For the Blitzers and Slayers I just painted their Beard Jewelry and their straps red to contrast all the white and the Aleniheim Brewery A on their Back Plate. On the Blitzers I painted red stripes on their Shoulder Pads, and the Slayers Shoulder Pads I painted Half & Half.

I based the Secret League Positionals. This was actually really easy cause I just put them on the old bases for My Totengrad Tyrants Color Guard. The Color Guard has been Drafted as a Full Unit Command & spare Champion for The Old World and are now on Square Bases. So now the Secret League Positionals are on their old hand me down bases.

Speaking of I actually got another sprue of Nobility Team a couple weeks ago. The Linemen & Blitzer have already been assembled and have been added to my Free Company Militia, the Blitzer being the Unit Champion. I even Kitbashed a Sword and Pistol into his hands.

Last Up is the DEATHCOPTER. I really just did the Pilot's eyes and the Beer foam. I also painted the Aleniheim Angel Shares A on the Underside of the DEATHCOPTER's Hull.

[newstfionline]

Saturday, October 26, 2024

Canada to cut immigration levels in major reversal, Trudeau says (Washington Post) Canada is set to slash the number of immigrants that it welcomes, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau announced Thursday, in a sharp reversal for a country that bet big on immigration to boost economic prosperity and that has long cast itself as open to newcomers. The about-face comes as public opinion polls show waning support for immigration amid concerns that it is exacerbating long-standing housing shortages, pushing up rents and deepening stresses on an already overburdened health-care system. Canada is to admit 395,000 new permanent residents in 2025, a 21 percent drop from the target of 500,000 it set last year. That number will fall further to 380,000 in 2026 and 365,000 in 2027. All are below the goal of 485,000 set for this year.

Asheville Has Tap Water, but No One Knows When It Will Be Drinkable (NYT) Nearly a month after the remnants of Hurricane Helene ravaged western North Carolina, running water has now been restored to most of the region around Asheville—but you can’t drink it yet. What comes out of the tap is often yellow or brown, and while it can be used to flush toilets and take showers, it is still unsafe for human consumption. Officials have given no indication of when the water will be safe to drink again, and the reservoir that feeds the system still looks like it is filled with chocolate milk rather than pristine water. Obtaining clean water remains a daily concern for many residents, who head to disaster relief sites to bathe, do their laundry and pick up bottles of drinking water. Large canisters stocked with well water dot some neighborhoods. Many restaurants and breweries that lack a clean water source remain closed. “It’s the new normal, going around to find places to do everyday stuff,” said Lisa Nowell of Swannanoa, N.C., after she did laundry with her daughter at a disaster relief site. “It has changed life so instantly.”

Thousands of adoptees live in limbo without citizenship (AP) The 50-year-old newspaper was turning yellow and its edges fraying, so she had it laminated, not as a memento but as proof—America made a promise to her, and did not keep it. She pointed to the picture in the corner of her as a little girl in the rural Midwest, hugging the family Yorkshire terrier, with dark pigtails and brown eyes so round people called her Buttons. Next to her sit smiling, proud parents—her father an Air Force veteran who had survived a German prison camp in World War II and found her in an orphanage in Iran. She was a skinny, sickly 2-year-old; he and his wife decided in 1972 to take her home and make her their American daughter. They brought her to the United States on a tourist visa, which in the eyes of the government she soon overstayed as a toddler—and that is an offense that cannot be rectified. She is one of thousands of children adopted from abroad by American parents—many of them military service members—who were left without citizenship by loopholes in American law that Congress has been aware of for decades, yet remains unwilling to fix. She is technically living here illegally, and eligible for deportation. “My dad died thinking, ‘I raised my daughter. I did my part,’ but not knowing it put me on a path of instability and fear,” she said. “Adoption tells you: You’re an American, this is your home. But the United States doesn’t see me as an American.”

Billionaire Esteves Sounds Alarm on US Deficit, Money ‘Printer’ (Bloomberg) Billionaire Andre Esteves, the chairman of Banco BTG Pactual SA, said he’s worried about the lack of debate over the ballooning US deficit and what he sees as the excessive printing of money. The Brazilian banker compared investor concern about his own country’s fiscal situation, which has been whipsawing financial markets, with relative quiet around the situation at the US Federal Reserve. The “reality is, even if you are the owner of the printer, there is a limit to print,” he said. While the fiscal situation [in Brazil] is being discussed daily by newspapers, politicians and investors, there’s been no similar talk in the US, he said. “The difference is that we don’t own a printer and need to be more rigorous.”

Molotov cocktail explodes in a Chilean high school, injuring at least 35 (AP) A homemade firebomb exploded inside a public high school in Chile on Wednesday, igniting a blaze that injured at least 34 students and one teacher, with several in serious condition, firefighters said. A group of students ages 15 to 18 at the school in central Santiago, the capital, were making Molotov cocktails in a bathroom to be thrown at a protest later when one exploded, said police Lt. Col. Fernando Albornoz. It was not clear what caused the blast. Police said they found bottles and fuel cans likely to make the explosives.

A loneliness epidemic is spreading worldwide. Seoul is spending $327 million to stop it (CNN) In South Korea, the city authorities of Seoul have announced they will spend 451.3 billion won (around $327 million) in the next five years to “create a city where no-one is lonely.” Every year, thousands of South Koreans die alone every year, a phenomenon known as “lonely deaths” and part of a larger problem of isolation from society. The initiative will include counselors, in-person visits and consultations, more green spaces and activities to encourage people to connect. “Loneliness and isolation are not just individual problems, but tasks that society must solve together,” Seoul mayor Oh Se-hoon said in a news release. The problem of loneliness has gained national attention over the past decade as the number of related issues increased—such as young people who withdraw from the world and spend their days isolated at home, often for months at a time. The phenomenon, known by the Japanese term “hikikomori,” has become increasingly common; South Korea had up to 244,000 such recluses in 2022 by one estimate. The number of lonely deaths has also been rising—reaching 3,661 last year.

Japan’s ruling party may struggle in Sunday’s vote, but its decades of dominance won’t end (AP) Japanese Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba ‘s ruling party, dogged by corruption scandals and plunging support, faces its toughest challenge in more than a decade in Sunday’s parliamentary election. This could set up a very short-lived time in office for Ishiba, who only took power earlier this month. But even if he may have to take responsibility and step down as head of the party and prime minister, it won’t cause his Liberal Democratic Party to fall from power. That’s because the party, which has had a stranglehold on power since 1955, easily dominates a fractured, weak opposition, which has only ruled twice, and briefly, during that time. The LDP has built its juggernaut of support through a network of bureaucrats, businesses and regional leaders. While opposition parties have made inroads in cities, the LDP controls the countryside, funneling huge government subsidies to rural areas.

Storm blows away from northern Philippines leaving 65 dead but forecasters warn it may do a U-turn (AP) Tropical Storm Trami blew away from the northwestern Philippines on Friday, leaving at least 65 people dead in landslides and extensive flooding that forced authorities to scramble for more rescue boats to save thousands of terrified people, who were trapped, some on their roofs. But the onslaught may not be over: State forecasters raised the rare possibility that the storm—the 11th and one of the deadliest to hit the Philippines this year—could make a U-turn next week as it is pushed back by high-pressure winds in the South China Sea.

Israel attacks Iran in series of pre-dawn airstrikes targeting military infrastructure (AP) Israel attacked Iran with a series of pre-dawn airstrikes Saturday in what it said was a response to the barrage of ballistic missiles the Islamic Republic fired upon Israel earlier in the month. The Israeli military said its aircraft targeted facilities that Iran used to make missiles fired at Israel as well as surface-to-air missile sites. There was no immediate indication that oil or missile sites were hit—strikes that would have marked a much more serious escalation—and Israel offered no immediate damage assessment. Explosions could be heard in the Iranian capital, Tehran, though the Islamic Republic insisted they caused only “limited damage” and Iranian state-run media downplayed the attacks. Still, the strikes risk pushing the archenemies closer to all-out war at a time of spiraling violence across the Middle East, where militant groups backed by Iran—including Hamas in Gaza and Hezbollah in Lebanon—are already at war with Israel. The strikes filled the air for hours until sunrise in Iran. They marked the first time Israel’s military has openly attacked Iran, which hasn’t faced a sustained barrage of fire from a foreign enemy since its 1980s war with Iraq.

Hezbollah proving a formidable foe against Israeli forces in Lebanon (Washington Post) After a series of staggering losses, Hezbollah is putting up a stiff fight against Israeli forces in Lebanon’s south while continuing to rain down rockets across the border, underscoring the group’s resilience and the limitations of Israel’s ground campaign. When Israel sent troops across the border on Oct. 1, officials estimated military operations would last for a few weeks. More than three weeks later, officials have said they will likely need a few weeks longer, raising concerns over the kind of mission creep that has defined Israel’s past wars in Lebanon. The militant group has bounced back from its unprecedented setbacks—including the penetration of its electronic devices and the assassination of most of its senior leadership—thanks to a flexible command structure, help from Iran and years of planning for an Israeli invasion, current and former Lebanese officials said. “They are a formidable foe,” said an official with the Israel Defense Forces. The official said Hezbollah militants are better trained, more experienced after fighting in Syria and armed with more advanced weaponry than in 2006, during their last war with Israel.

In Gaza Camps Where Tents Are Now a Luxury, a Harsh Winter Looms (NYT) A year into the war in Gaza, the prices of ready-made tents and supplies to build even flimsy shelters are soaring. Warm blankets, clothes and firewood are hard to get or prohibitively expensive. Finding a vacant apartment is out of the question for most displaced civilians. And many have no income at all. So people eking out an existence in tattered tents and makeshift shelters across the enclave are bracing for a tough, rainy winter. This one, many expect, will be worse than the last. Most of the roughly two million people in Gaza have been displaced at least once by the war, compounding the hardships of a population enduring waves of Israeli bombardment and widespread lawlessness.

[champagnemanagement]

SOB LOG 2023 HIGHLIGHTS!!!

Don’t know about SOB LOG? Primer: I keep a log of every time I cry because we typically avoid talking about our tears, and I don’t think we should! The main reason is embarrassment and fuck that. We need to normalize crying. It IS normal and common and healthy- we just don’t talk about it. Now it’s a different story if you are crying every day because of loneliness or self-hatred or something like that. You most definitely need to talk about it to someone but it should probably be a professional! I am talking about the tears that come as a reaction to emotional experiences—like reading a book or listening to a song or watching the news.

So this year I came in at 127 SOBS, which is the exact same number from 2021!!!! Here are my TOP TEN SOBS in chronological order based on the criteria of variety and ridiculousness.

This 95 year old man’s bday celebration at a dunkin donuts

Ke huay quan's speech at Golden globes

I cried MANY times about the death of my brother’s BFF Annie, particularly hard listening to the song he sang for her

Seeing a picture of Trayvon Martin at Experience Aviation

Reading about law in MO forcing trans people to detransition

Caught up on season 2 of The Mandalorian: baby yoda touching PP’s face unleashed a torrent

When Nazis showed up at a drag event at Land Grant Brewery in Columbus

I somehow cried during INSIDIOUS 4

O'Shae Sibley, a Beloved Dancer, Killed After Vogueing at Brooklyn Gas Station

This one’s a 2 parter: I cried during Quellek’s death in Galaxy Quest and then I cried AGAIN when Quellek’s death was talked about in the Galaxy Quest documentary, Never Surrender: A Galaxy Quest Documentary (which is EXCELLENT, btw).

I cried many times during the following shows: Midnight Mass, Rupaul’s Drag Race, the Ken Burns’ Country Music series (especially the Hank Williams ep), Strange New Worlds, The Golden Bachelor, GBBO, just to name a few! And not many people will appreciate this but I SHED A TEAR FOR TUVIX!! (I watched the Tuvix ep of Voyager after the Lower Decks ep inspired by it.)

So that’s it!! Happy sob logging in 2024!

[dailydanneelackles]

hilarieburton: Before the clock strikes 12, I have to highlight my Day 4 pic for creatives that make the world a better place!!! And I have to give so much love and respect this this woman… @danneelackles512 .

Danneel is a dreamer. She can see an old house and turn it into the most hip, bohemian design palace you’ve ever seen. She can see a empty field and envision a brewery. She can see a basic pitch document and know how the entire series should look and feel. She has impeccable intuition, and has made my life immeasurably better by being the voice of reason and support and unabashed mischief.

Many many many moons ago (like 12 or 13 years), she and I conceived a movie idea called “Christmas Witches”. I can’t spoil the plot, but it’s FUN. And it’s still a dream of mine that we’ll get to make it together. Tonight felt a little bit like that movie,…just a couple witches, putting good energy out into the world. 🧙‍♀️ Thank you for being by my side Danneel. Thank you for loving me, warts and all. I adore you. Go support this magic woman by following @familybusinessbeerco and @chaosmachineproductions. (x)

[haveihitanerve]

Shadow and Bone series things that i fucking ADORE but its literally only the crows-

Kaz handing jesper the money ONLY FOR COAL and being very aware that jesper is going to lose it all but trusting him with it nonetheless

Kazzle dazzle walking around holding a goat

Jesper and inej insulting kaz, insinuating that he cant drive the weird little buggy thing and the thing he focuses on is the fact that inej called him ‘jes?’

‘Its suli.for friendship.’ inej is not having it.’no its not!’

Kaz’s little talk with inej. Beautiful

The fact that kaz thinks of inej and jesper as his saints because no one else has looked after him, but they do

Jesper not giving two shits that ka could kill him and constantly insulting him. ‘See it enough in the mirror do you?’

Jesper and inej talking back to kaz without a care in the world and he doesn't do anything

Kaz letting mal and inej go up to deck without following, but cant wait two seconds after jesper leaves to follow. Bromance

Jesper being able to touch kaz’s arm/shoulder/him without his arm being removed(both from kaz and from his body)

Kaz’s look at jesper when he recommends starting a brewery

Inej and jesper chatting about inej leaving. ‘You're making this really hard’ ‘i know. Id miss me too.’

‘Heres what i don't get’ ‘we’re gonna be here all night’ ‘rude.’ kaz just letting his crows bicker

Kaz and inej drinking from the same glass at different times while jesper just watches like ‘my alcohol!’

Kaz shushing everyone

Kaz giving his bestie life advice. ‘Never make decisions out of fear jesper. Only spite.’ jesper then making him laugh, you know he wanted to and totally cracked up when jes left- ‘greed always worked for me.’

Jesper showing his guns when someone threatens kaz

Jesper and his guns

Jesper spinning his guns

Jesper

‘Its not natural for someone to be stupid as he is tall and yet, oop!, there you stand’

Kaz’s personas that severely fucked with my head

‘He threw a book at me!’ that book being shadow and bone and also kazs looks

‘Tell me you have a plan. I don't care if its a lie.’

Jesper listing the things they learned and winking at inej when he says ‘its the friends we make along the way’ and the way kaz almost smiles

Also how close he and jesper are almost always standing/sitting

When theyre laying on the ground together, legs behind them. It just looks so wonky and also like a teenager thing to do and it makes me giggle

‘Too soon to appreciate the irony amiright?’ okay i just know that the reason kaz drops his head is because hes trying not to explode with laughter. 

Matthias and nina’s waffle conversation

‘Are you gonna help?” kaz just lifts cane. Jesper, without giving two fucks that this man is called the fucking bastard of the barrel, with snark and backtalk- ‘oh.well isn't that convenient for you’ i just love how he and inej are allowed to get away with talking to kaz like that okay? Its the little things

‘Hug the goat.shut the hell up’

Jesper wanting kaz to promise him an open casket, kaz merely saying that they are NOT dying

‘Still didn't shoot his pretty face. I've got to stop doing that.’ jesper, ma boi, please leave the snarky comments for a time when you are not about to die

‘No one will believe im that old!’ kaz’s look. I just know he had on a shit eating grin on the inside, payback for all the snarky comments jesper has made- ‘you tell yourself that’ inejs little grin

Kaz and jesper chatting while inej casually leaves and then holds mal at gunpoint

The way jes whips out his guns when inej appears with mal and both guys jump in surprise while shes just like, ‘oh you guys didn't notice he was here?’

Kaz casually recruiting mal without asking mal himself

‘Have you found religion too?” but doesn't contradict him

Kazs smile when he forces jesper to cover him when sneaking into the dime lion of whatever

‘Jesper!’ when jesper asks for a blow up dude. His voice sounds like a tired dad

The way jesper jumps when inej appears behind him

Inej killing someone for kaz without hesitation

The way kaz waits with her, to tell her she saved his life, wasting precious seconds of escape, because while he might not understand her unwillingness to kill, he knows its hard for her and has enough compassion to offer her a few seconds of assurance

Inejs face when kaz accidentally reveals how much he sacrificed to get her free of Heleen

How jesper says ‘kaz might just kill heleen himself if you tell him that story’ about why inej knows how to sew herself up

Jesper and kaz getting excited about a heist

The smile kaz gives jesper when he informs him about the heist

‘Just ask’ kaz finally asks and jesper doesn't answer

‘Is it my size?’ ‘you have to ask?” ahhhh😭 ‘remember the last time this happened? You got me a mens.’ ‘it worked didn't it?’ 😭 like an old married couple

Inej telling kaz to be careful before they split up and he gets chased by the inferni

“And uh” looks jesper up and down. ‘Yeah hes gonna need it.’ “a goat.” jespers face

‘Boss’

Jespers goodbye to milo