#the summit resort

[so-this-is-my-blog-i-guess]

Throwback Thursday.

1988. At a now abandoned honeymoon spot in the Poconos.

I wish I knew what the hell happened. 🤷🏼‍♀️

[cnladies]

AI MI 艾米 in Marchesa 2025 Resort | Weibo and Internet Video Summit 2024

Ai Mi: more photos here Weibo and Internet Video Summit 2024: more photos here

[thatonesmartkidfromschool]

Vote Donnie 2023, he's desperate. @autismswagsummit

[thekaniniestateonline]

Best Volcanoes National Park Safari: Adventure Awaits in Hawaii

When planning an unforgettable getaway, the allure of Hawaii often tops the list. Renowned for its natural beauty and volcanic landscapes, the Big Island offers a unique experience for adventurers and nature lovers alike. Among its gems is the Volcanoes National Park, a haven for exploration and discovery. For those yearning to immerse themselves in this volcanic wonderland, a well-organized safari promises to transform your trip into a lifetime memory.

[eopederson]

Breckenridge Ski Area from 11,000 m, April 2023.

[berribish]

The Journey

[getoutofthisplace]

Dear Gus & Magnus,

Winter Storm Mara has hit Texas and threatened to hit Little Rock last night, so about half the team opted out of our planned retreat. This is the group who stayed the course. We ended up making the retreat less about overall Comm Team initiatives and instead about this year's Summit.

Dad.

Grapevine, Texas. 2.1.2023 - 3.18pm.

FUN FACT: We're at the Gaylord Texan Resort, which is where I came during my first six months of working at Garver. I came for a conference and felt completely out of place. Now I'm here planning my own conference and totally in my element, which kind of makes me think I've completely sold out to corporate America at this point. But not really; our conference is way better than the one I came to back in 2013.

[weedlekaart]

what’s like a normal amount of deaths on the b-sides cause i hit over 1000 on some of them lol…

[bigbeardestination]

Snow Summit Ski Resort is famous for its slopes and is the main reason people travel from all over Southern California to visit. Read More.

[marymunchkiin]

Cyberpunk 2077: Crimson Resurrection

The year is 2080. Militech's audacious strike on Arasaka's summit in Tokyo sparks a cataclysmic confrontation and the prelude to the Fifth Corporate War. Invaded by clandestine AI armies born from the remnants of a revolutionary operation called Project Cynosure, Arasaka resorts to desperate measures to combat the assault, including the resurrection of a legendary edgerunner that they hope will turn the tide.

Finally finished these movie posters I made for a concept Cyberpunk 2077 movie continuing from the Devil Ending, set in Neo-Tokyo. <3 This is an AU where it connects to the discoveries found in Phantom Liberty.

[1000sunnygo]

One Piece Academy chapter 51: The legend of the radiant summit (Quick translation)

index

Editor's note: ☆ Featuring Corazon VS Doflamingo, Volume 9 now on sale!

Swaying on a train, everyone arrived at The ✨ Snowy Mountain!

[Swoosh]

Luffy: LET'S GO!

Nami: I'm not gonna lose~!

Luffy: Uwooh~~!!

Brook: Man, it sure feels nice... a stark, white ski slope. Might get frost bites, even though I don't have the skin for it! Yohoho!

Koby:....

Vivi: Let's enjoy it to our fullest, it's a whooping 2-night-3-days skiing and snowboarding trip after all!

Robin: It was a great limited time grand-offer for the middle schoolers. But as a result...

... EVERYONE has shown up.

Croc: This isn't dry enough.

Hancock: Luffy~!! Let's ca... carve some ski tracks together...! <3

Kidd: I can speed blitze your ass!

Law: Zip it, schuss bastard.

Lucci: Don't lose focus, Student Council.

Buggy: It's Buggy~!

Koby: Just hope a brawl doesn't stir up...

Sanji: Well, shouldn't be a headache since we have the student corps with us. *eyeing Koby*

Helmeppo: Say wha-?!

Usopp: Geez, you lot... stop yammering and take a look over there!

Koby: Eh?

Usopp: That majestic mountaintop reaching over the clouds!

Koby: Woah??! That's ridiculously tall!

Usopp: When you compare somethin' like that to our worries, they all become dinky specks.

Chopper: Dinky specks...

Usopp: Yep, dinky specks.

Chopper: Dinky specks!

Nami: Cmon boys, skate hard until sunset!

Others: Yeah!!!

[Evening]

Luffy: Ahh, that was so much fun!

Nami: Let's head to the inn..!

*reaches the inn*

!!!

Everyone: Todays inn...is this?

Franky: The design rings a bell...

Koby: I've got a bad feeling...

A certain someone: Fufufufu.....

Doffy: Nice to see y'all!

Everyone: DOFLAMINGO!

Luffy: Ooh, Mingo!

Nami: Don't tell me...

Doflamingo: Fufufufu.. Been running this ski resort since last year. Prepared an inn as well.

Koby/Usopp: Woaah!!

Vivi: Thanks for the next two days!

Doffy: Make yourself comfortable.

Usopp: Vivi! This place is a bad news!

*door creaks*

Usopp: n?

Monet: Welcome, first years.

[New World Middle School, 2nd year class 8,

Monet chan]

Tonjit: Come in, get warm inside!

[Mountain inn caretaker, Tonjit san]

Robin: Monet!

Monet: Oh my, Robin!

Usopp: You know her?

Robin: Fellow library committee member.

Luffy: *stares*

Tonjit: Hm?

Continues in Reblog ⬇️

[cnladies]

ZHOU YE 周也 in Christian Dior Resort 2025 | Weibo and Internet Video Summit 2024

Zhou Ye: more photos here Weibo and Internet Video Summit 2024: more photos here

[foundtherightwords]

Fallen Empires - Chapter 4

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Chapter warnings: none

Chapter word count: 2.5k

Prologue + Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Chapter 4

At last, Geta was deemed sufficiently recovered to leave the bedroom. His stitches came off, and though Daphne still plied him with bitter drinks and fortifying broths, she no longer put the smelly poultices on his wounds. She hadn't allowed him a full bath yet, but she had given him his privacy to wash and dress and had allowed him solid food. It was only simple fare like lentil stew and barley soup, but it tasted heavenly after a month of watery gruel. His illness must have changed his palate as well, for now he thought of the roast flamingos and lark's tongues and dormice of a Roman feast with disgust. Had he really eaten such things? This food was so much more nourishing and wholesome.

When he asked Daphne if the villagers would be suspicious that she was taking more food than usual, she only shrugged. "They always give me more than I need," she explained. "Usually I would store it and share it in the winter, but nobody will miss it."

Geta thought he would be glad to finally get back on his feet. But his month-long convalescence had left him weak and shaky, and when he looked at his reflection in the basin of water during his morning ablutions, he no longer recognized his own face. It was pale, as pale as it had been back in Rome, when he had been younger and had resorted to powder and rouge to make himself stand out. His cheeks and eyes had sunken, while his hair and beard had grown long, giving him a haggard look. Even his body had changed. When Daphne cut his stitches, he didn't dare look at himself. All the muscles, honed from hours at the gymnasium in Rome and days of marching on the road alongside his men, had vanished, leaving only protruding ribs and collarbones. It frightened him more than he cared to admit. How strange it was that when he was bedridden, all he could think of was to get better, to ride out and confront those who wanted him dead, yet now, when he was better, fear and doubt started to creep in. He could not face his enemies, whoever they were, in this frail and weakened condition.

The first thing he did, once he could walk around unassisted, was go outside to get a feel of the land. Daphne told him that the village—more like a hamlet, really—had been built by Greek shepherds hundreds of years ago, who had discovered some, if not fertile then at least peaceful, grazing land hidden amongst these formidable rocky peaks. Remembering the history lessons from his childhood, Geta guessed that it was the leftover of an old Greek settlement after Pompey remade the East, or perhaps its inhabitants were fleeing the collapse of the Seleucid Empire. Either way, it explained the strange accent and why the people here still considered themselves Greek, though they mixed and traded with the Syrians down in the Balikh Valley as well as the Kurd nomads of the plateau and the Parthians across the border. But Geta was less interested in the history of the place than in its capacity for secrecy and defense.

"Don't go too far, mind," Daphne said, as he stepped through the door.

Ignoring her, Geta stood at the door for a moment, looking around. The hut was situated on the summit of a tall, rocky hill, sheltered from the blistering sun by a sheer cliff in the back and by Daphne's namesake, a grove of laurel trees, around the sides. The front door opened into a little yard and overlooked yet more rocky hills surrounding the hut. No wonder he couldn't be found. The hills all looked the same, sandy brown crags that stood like sentinels, dotted here and there by clumps of scraggly pines. There were no signs of other inhabitants, save for the bleats of distant sheep, and no visible roads, save for a tiny footpath winding between two large boulders that led from the front door of the hut down the hill and into the valley.

Geta followed this path, stopping every minute to catch his breath. On his left, the path opened into a crevice amongst the rocks, where terraced garden rows lined the hill. Fruit trees, vegetables, and medicinal herbs grew valiantly despite the arid soil. Beehives stood between the trees, and occasionally a bee would buzz past him, bustling just like its mistress. Below the garden, a small cistern had been dug into the rocks to gather the meager rainfall.

The path continued its downward spiral around the hill. Here and there amongst the boulders, the scouring wind had driven in enough soil for shrubs and even trees to grow, and they clung to the rocks as tenaciously as the people of this place clung to their land. Through the boulders, Geta could catch glimpses of the valley below, a deep gorge with a stream of brown sludge meandering through it. Sounds of habitation drifted toward him—more sheep bleating, the rhythmic hammering of a blacksmith, a child's wail—but he saw no other soul on his descent.

Eventually, the path dwindled into little more than a crack between two rock faces, just wide enough for a man leading a donkey—not a horse—to pass through. A cleft in the rock served as a gate between the path and the valley beyond. Dangling from a hook over this cleft was the bell he'd heard, which was just a weathered piece of bronze with an iron rod next to it for sounding the alarm. Geta looked behind him. The hut was still visible, though only just, its mud-brick walls blending in with the hillside so perfectly that one couldn't even tell there was a dwelling there, unless one already knew where to look. It was the ideal hiding place.

Thus reassured, he made his way back up the slope. But he had been overconfident in his recovery, and the climb was much more difficult than the descent. He lost sight of the hut and was no longer sure if he was going the right way. Well, how hard could it be? He just had to go up, didn't he? But new boulders seemed to be shooting up in random places, blocking his way, forcing him to go left or right instead of in a straight line, and he didn't seem to be gaining ground at all. Soon he was crawling on his hands and knees, wheezing as though his lungs were about to burst. Sweat poured down his forehead and his back.

Just when he thought he would never make it back to the hut, hurried footsteps came toward him, and Daphne's capable hands helped him up. "Don't disappear like that," she chided. "You gave me such a fright. I thought you'd run away!"

"Only—wanted to—take—a walk," he tried to explain.

"You must take it easy," she said, helping him down a chair by the door of the hut. "Here. Rest. I'll bring you some wine."

She went inside. A moment later, Geta heard a small gasp and a clatter. He turned around to find Daphne scrambling to pick up a cup, which had fallen on the floor.

"Sorry, so clumsy of me," she stammered.

"Something the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing's the matter, everything is fine," she said, a little too quickly. She busied herself with the wine, mixing it with water before pouring a cup and handing it to him. It could be his imagination, but he thought her face was rather flushed, and she was avoiding his eyes. Geta's suspicion, which had been lying dormant since the night he'd witnessed Daphne save the pregnant woman, reared its head again.

"What's in this wine?" he asked, eyeing the cup.

Daphne saw his suspicious look. "Are you still on about that?" she said, rolling her eyes. "I've told you, I would not go to all this trouble only to poison you. Here"—she snatched the cup from him and took a large sip—"does that make you feel safer?"

Sheepishly, Geta took the wine back. Daphne was still glancing at him strangely from time to time, but he shrugged it off and focused on the more pressing matter, which was his recovery. "How long do you think before I'm strong enough to return to Edessa?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. "You're strong, but you've lost a lot of blood, and your lungs are still in danger of getting inflamed. There's a town two days from here, Adala. There you may be able to get passage to Edessa, but if your fever returns while you're on the road, there's nothing I can do."

His stomach sank. He took a sip of wine and told himself to be patient. The gods had given him this second chance at life to strike down his foes, and he would not squander it.

Trying to discover his enemies got him nowhere, and so Geta turned to the one thing he knew—brute strength. Lacking a gymnasium, he exercised by walking and sparring with a stick against a tree trunk, and sometimes with the dagger as well. It was true that his resting time in between these exercises was often longer than the exercises themselves, but at least exercising had the virtue of tiring him out, so his sleep was longer and more restful, untroubled by ghosts and visions of Tartarus.

When Daphne went into the village, she still instructed him to stay in the bedroom as usual. The occasional villager would stop by to pick up a cure or leave their token of gratitude, and soon Geta learned their names and professions. There was Tatia the baker, who always wanted a cure for indigestion for her husband; Cyrus the weaver, an old man whose back was hunched from bending over the loom, who usually picked up a balm or ointment for his aching joints; Habib, who came by often for some fortifying tonics for his wife. There were also Khaleed the shepherd, Musa the shepherd, Apollonius the shepherd, Samira the shepherd's wife, and many others, as well as various children. They all had the same lean, sinewy look as Daphne's, the look of a people who had to scratch out a living on a near-barren land and conserve every drop of water they could find. Still, they looked harmless enough. It made Geta feel a little safer, though he still wore the dagger during the day and slept with it under his pillow.

If Daphne was home, he could walk around freely. She even put a bench in a corner of the hut, near the door, so he could sit down and rest whenever he wanted. Sitting there, he would amuse himself by watching the goats—a nanny goat, and her two kids—frolicking around, foraging for grass and edible leaves amongst the rocks, while the donkey stood placidly under the olive trees. He would watch Daphne as well, and now that he was getting better, her bustle and chatter no longer irritated him as they once had. If anything, he found them rather endearing, a welcoming distraction from his circuitous, muddled thoughts.

One afternoon, Geta was napping on this bench when he was awakened by annoyed bleating. Getting up, he saw Daphne just outside the door, holding one of the baby goats, the black one with a rather cheeky look, between her knees. She was struggling to wrap strips of old linen around the goat's budding horns, and the goat was having none of it. His brother, the snow-white one, was lying primly nearby, his horns already wrapped.

"What on Earth are you doing?" Geta asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she said between two breaths. "I'm wrapping his horns." Taking advantage of her distraction, the goat bolted out of her lap. "Catch him!" Daphne shouted, running after the goat. It dodged between her arms and ran straight for the open door of the hut, toward the bench. Geta stuck out a leg. The goat tried to jump over him, but its own legs were still young and clumsy, and it went sprawling on the ground.

Chuckling, Geta scooped the goat up. Its fur was surprisingly soft, and it smelled, not unpleasantly, of dung, fresh grass, and warm milk. Once it realized escape was out of the question, it settled into his arms readily enough and immediately started chewing on the sleeve of his tunic, as was the wont of goats.

"Hold him like that," Daphne said.

Picking up the linen, she knelt in front of Geta and wrapped the goat's horns in quick, practiced movements. A new scent, faint but sweet, almost like orange blossoms, joined the animal smell of the goat. It took a moment for Geta to realize it was coming from Daphne. He had never noticed it before, even when she sat close to him to change his dressing, either because he had been too ill to notice anything, or because the strong vinegary smell of the dressing had overpowered it. He breathed in deeply, letting that fresh and flowery fragrance fill his tired lungs. His inhale causes Daphne to look up. Their eyes met, and Daphne's lashes—which were quite long, he'd only just noticed as well—fluttered for the briefest of moments, before she looked away.  

"Why do you wrap their horns?" Geta asked, to fill the silence.

"So they don't hurt themselves or each other."

"They don't seem to like it," he pointed out.

"Too bad." She finished tying the ends of the linen strip. Geta let the goat go, and it ran back to its mother and brother. "Be good to each other now, you hear?" Daphne called after them.

A ghost whispered at the back of Geta's mind. Be good to each other. Those were his father's last words to him and his brother. It hadn't worked. It never would've worked. His father must have known that, and yet he had clung to that hope of the Empire under two rulers, until the day he died.

"It's no use," he said to Daphne, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Look, they're at each other's throat again already." Indeed, the two kids were running toward each other at full tilt, though their linen-wrapped horns glanced off harmlessly.

Daphne shrugged. "At least this way they won't get hurt," she said.

"Would you have soldiers fight with blunt swords then?" he scoffed. "Would you wrap them up in soft linen instead of armor, so they wouldn't get hurt? It's in their nature. You can't stop it."

Daphne looked at him curiously, and he realized he'd said too much. She studied him for a long time. Eventually, she replied, quietly, "I would, if I could." There was an infinite sadness in her eyes and her voice that he couldn't understand, and as he watched her go into the garden to gather vegetables for their evening meal, guilt pricked at his insides like tiny needles. He didn't know if he was feeling guilty about making her sad, or if it was simply his old guilt coming back to haunt him.

Chapter 5

I got the idea for Daphne to wrap the goats' horns from this delightful image of aggressive goats having to wear pool noodles to prevent them from injuring themselves and others. Knowing Daphne, she would no doubt come up with the Ancient Roman equivalent of that.

Septimius Severus's last words to his sons are (paraphrased) "Be good to each other, enrich the army, and scorn all the rest." Unfortunately, it seems Caracalla and Geta only paid attention to the last bit :((

This chapter is a bit shorter than usual, so the next update may come sooner. Stay tuned!

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92, @justnobodynothingmore, @barcelonaloverf1life, @myotakureprieve, @flawssy-227 (if you want to be tagged, let me know!)

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I remember your submission about H and national security implications. So, with the new Boris revelation- that he had a talk about Harry just before megxit to convince him to stay- what do you think about this from a national security angle?

To me, it seems, that the uk govt also realised what the possible implications could be if Harry's loyalties landed on the wrong side. Do you think that is why, as a last resort, the then PM was recruited to have an informal chat with him? Obviusly harry is so thick and daft, that he would take any allegations of possible defection very poorly. But, surely that must have been a point of discussion at the palace as well as 10 downing.

It seems that everyone but Harry, took his leaving very seriously. And he didn't realise the repercussions until just recently. What else do you will could think might come out about megxit?

So first, the palace has announced that they never asked Boris to speak to Harry. I think what probably happened is one of the following two scenarios:

Scenario A: The Queen discussed Megxit with him in one of their weekly audiences and he thinks she’s asking him to problem solve this, so Boris steps in.

Scenario B: It was Charles/Clarence House that asked Boris to step in and not the palace, but Boris doesn’t know the difference. (Which is very plausible considering that he confirmed in his memoir he never read his briefing papers and often learned things from The Queen herself.)

Second, there’s no national security angle to this. It was made very clear that take away their demands in the Megxit Manifesto - which the BRF did at the Sandringham Summit - the Sussexes didn’t actually have a plan for what they were going to do. Where would they live? Were they going to lease/rent or buy? What would they do about transportation? How would they pay for their expenses? For childcare? For security? What would they do for work? Would they immigrate or just live there? What kind of visas did Harry need? Could they keep their diplomatic passports or did they need to get regular ones? Etc, etc. That’s probably how they got the 1-year trial period; there was no plan and the little plan there was wasn’t realistic.

The BRF was doing everything they could to make the Sussexes wake up to the reality that the grass wasn’t greener on the other side and that Harry, especially, was too dependent on the machinations of the monarch - living expenses paid for, generational wealth, do-nothing career, household staff, drivers - to be able to manage it exclusively and entirely alone without support. Since the Sussexes weren’t listening to the BRF, someone thought an “outsider” might be able to make them listen and Boris (who’s very much equally privileged and tone-deaf on similar issues) was chosen. Or self-appointed.

I think had the BRF called the Spencers in to help, they might’ve had a chance but it was still too late because once Meghan got Archie out of the country, she was gone and if she was gone, so was Harry. The opportune time to get the Spencers involved would’ve been Summer 2019 or right after Africa. But even then, I’m not sure that the Spencers would’ve been able to do anything; at that time, Harry wasn’t speaking to the Earl (he either no-showed or was NFI to Archie’s christening) and he was probably the only one that could’ve made the Sussexes happy, by allowing them to stay in Diana’s home. I know, Althorp wasn’t really her home but the association of Diana to the estate is really strong and probably would’ve mollified the Sussexes long enough for things to cool down but it doesn’t address the issue that Meghan hates the UK and desperately wants the golden glorious glamor of Hollywood.

Harry does seem to have better relationships with Diana’s sisters but I’m not sure they could’ve convinced the Sussexes to change their mind without being able to give them Diana in the way that only Earl Spencer could, as he is the current occupant for Althorp.

But for all I know, maybe they did call the Spencers for help and it just didn’t work. But I don’t think they did, because it would’ve leaked out. Maybe they tried to and Meghan blocked it because she knew once Diana was invoked, it was game over and she’d be stuck. Or maybe she had already invoked Diana to Harry and that’s how she convinced him to do this in the first place and now Diana’s sisters coming in with their version of Diana would undo her hard work.

Anyway. Not really a national security analysis. Personally, I don’t like doing hindsight analysis - where you take everything you know now and apply it to a situation years ago in the last - because then you’re making assumptions and assumptions end up turning opinion into fact. That’s not objective.

I prefer to focus hindsight analysis on “what we knew then” with “what we know now about what we knew then.” Specific to the January 2020 bro-chat, there isn’t much context for that. The only thing that changes is how much anger Harry had at the time, with revelations in all the royal books, towards not being treated exactly the same as William by everyone - his wife, the public, the family, the monarchy, etc.

I can’t comment on the national security aspects of why the PM may or may not have decided to speak with Harry about Megxit because at the time in January 2020, there weren’t concerns about defection or bought loyalty. Not publicly, at least. At the time, the public concerns were about Harry’s relationship with the press, and with that we knew that Harry was friendly with certain members of the press and liked speaking to them because they made him feel important. Remember, the interview with the Russian pranksters where the general public began to realize “wait a minute…” wasn’t until March 2020.

I don’t know that I have anymore predictions for Megxit. Obviously the biggest issue is whether Archie is “of the body” as there’s been a lot of speculation Megxit happened (partially) to obscure that. I’m not sure we’ll ever get the answer to that.

Some other guesses:

Exactly when, where, and with whom all the contract negotiations for their content deals (Quibi, Netflix, Spotify, The Bench, Penguin Random House, and Oprah) began. There’s a lot of very plausible speculation that these talks (and Netflix filming) began way before 2020.

The press lawsuits - who, what, where, when, and how. I want to know everything - who finally convinced Harry to sue? What role did Elton really have in it? Who’s bankrolling the lawsuits? Did Harry seek lawyers out or did lawyers seek Harry out? How much influence did Meghan have on the lawsuits? Were the lawsuits preemptive to get Fleet Street to stop investigating or talking about the inconsistencies in Archie’s birth?

The exact details and timing of how Megxit went down. Who stayed with Archie, and where, while the Sussexes were in the UK each time? Who financed their expenses? When did Trudeau learn that he was footing their entire bill and how long before he booted the Sussexes - was it immediate or was it only when the public began complaining? When did Meghan start complaining about Canada and began demanding they move to the US? When did Oprah and Tyler Perry come into the picture? How long did they really plan to stay in Canada before moving to the US? Did they take advantage of the Covid panic to expedite their US move or were they already in the US before the revenge tour? What did/does Dan Wootton know that he didn’t publish? What did/does Scobie know about Megxit? Was the BRF aware that the goal was always to move to the US? Did the BRF really believe it was the media that made the Sussexes quit? Did the Sussexes really quit monarchy or did The Queen actually fire them as speculated

[mellowwillowy]

mmmm pathetic man 🤤 yandere drug addict Jade worshipping kidnapping and forcing their s/o because they're as addictive as his "magical mushrooms" and Floyd helping because finally his brother seems genuinely happy and is abstaining from drugs when at his pearl's side, so to Floyd: Jade's darling with Jade = Jade's not depressed anymore and abstains from drugs - Jade without his darling = Back to the drugs and depression - the solution? kidnapping darling, after all is not like it's hard for a big mafia like their family's with all the contacts they have, Azul could also force darling into a binding contract with Jade, after all even if they won't admit it, they're practically best friends 👀 and Azul feels indebt with Jade and Floyd for being with him on his childhood, we both know Azul doesn't like to feel indebt

Oh my oh my, poor Darling.

Maybe you two met in the mountains and decided to hike together to reach the summit together. You knew Jade was an addict after seeing him consume mushrooms that people used to get high but didn't really care.

What you didn't expect was that you somehow also consumed it when he silver-tongued convinced you to. It was fun, the two of you went wild in the wild and might even fucked each other.

Jade's mental state was deranged so he was very vulnerable and easily convinced that he could finally live without his addiction when he first woke up next to you in the tent.

He felt alive and tingly when he observed you, touched you, and felt you. Was it the drugs or mushrooms? No. It was you. You made him feel alive without having to resort to his addiction and to hell if he would just let you go.

The two of you went separate ways after exchanging numbers and you only saved him as one of your flings. But oh dear when Floyd came to crash down all your life along with Azul...

Now you were snuggled close in Jade's embrace, there were no remnants of drugs around him, unlike the first time you met him, his scent mixed with nature and drugs.

You were his drugs now.

[thewhizzyhead]

once again this is more of a brainfart but a certain aspect of orphan town has come to mind recently - so obviously the first sets of verses feature the orphans getting ticked off that the reveal that the warriors, the so-called "late night cosmetology class" goers, were present at a gang summit they weren't invited to. the ensuing chorus then features the dudes boosting their rep up, saying that their rumbles are due to be famous and all that - and seeing as the orphans clearly take the lack of invitation as an attack to their ego, fox and swan resort to a well-known tactic used to bring insecure ego-obsessed men to heel: batting their eyelids and making the girls seem small and sweet by saying they were simply just "lost and lonely" while also making the boys feel respected as proper men through compliments ("heavy, heavy") and through asking them for help ("what do you suggest we do") - and this works!!! of course it all goes to shit when mercy challenges their masculinity and dominance by questioning how easily they fall for the warriors' damsel in distress act, but in any case, I find this treatment of the orphans to be another layer of cool and care in recontextualizing the warriors as women - as clearly this is an instance of not only misogyny in action, but in how women have to deal with insecure-ass men through stroking their egos just to get by peacefully, which is obviously not a take one can do if the warriors remained men. also its cool how swan stops the peace act when a.) the orphans seemingly act threatening to mercy ("mercy i'm losing my cool"), so swan, who doesn't know her, immediately jumps to her defense, and b.) when the orphans threaten harm to the warriors ("or we gotta rain down from you, from the rooftops"), causing swan the well-established pacifist to directly insult and attack them. i dunno i just think that's a cool take too that kinda foreshadows how the women are willing to take matters to their own hands once threatened rather than safely play to the tastes of men. anyways woo