#Because it's too much and it's boring or it's pretentious to them which is never what I wanted

[callingcxrd]

I know people mean well and this is something I don't blame them for but I am getting so tired of hearing that Oh, your struggles make you special! Thinking differently means you'll change the world! Like maybe I don't want to be some miraculous idolised Other any more than I would want to be some demonised freak to you all maybe I just want actually understood

#Bleu.txt #It's just been weighing on my mind lately </3 #IDK I'm very poetic and dramatic about things by nature I feel so I kind of make it hard for myself I guess but like the things I do #The things I draw and write et cetera #I want to be such a poet and so many poets are viewed as mysterious and unreachable historically speaking. I suppose #I don't want to be unreachable I want to be accessible and I want everyone to understand it #But unfortunately understanding is never something you can just Give somebody. It's a meeting half way and it is simply not always possible #Again it's something I've come to terms with and I never blame people for simply acting as their life experiences allow them to #But I end up feeling very isolated even speaking face to face with so many people #There is a great irony in it. Everything I do is as in depth and detailed as it is because of seeking that perfect understanding #But it just gets harder to connect with literally any audience. Or at least that's how I feel #Most people skim over it #Because it's too much and it's boring or it's pretentious to them which is never what I wanted #This isn't just about poetry though. That's just the way I feel I can express myself most authentically #Words are my personal talent so it's just what I do #Anyway. Ramble over #These tags are so unrelated anyway dfhgjdfnjhk

[cranberrymoons]

a love to last past saturday night

here's the first 3,500-ish words of the coffee shop au i've been working on!

—

There’s a little cafe at the end of Steve’s block that he’s only ever been in once. 

It’s called Corroded Coffee and it’s dark in there and maybe a little pretentious, but not pretentious as in… people reading classic novels or having discussions about French Cinema. Pretentious in the sense that there’s an intimidating collection of vinyl records taking up half an entire wall and they use single origin arabica beans and the scary baristas look at you sideways if you order regular milk in your latte. 

He knows this last part because the one time he did stop in, shortly after he moved to the neighborhood, he asked for an iced vanilla cold brew with cream, and the redheaded girl behind the counter looked him up and down as she punched his order into an iPad. 

“Okay,” she said slowly, disdainful and bored like she was barely concealing an eye roll. “I guess that’s eleven dollars, if you’re sure that’s all you want.”

Steve was sure. He was also sure that he’d never forgive himself for spending so much on a single cup of coffee that he could probably make at home for about fifty cents, but… support local businesses? Use his company card? Also, he was too embarrassed to tell her to cancel the order. 

So. 

Anyway, it’s about three months later when he goes in there for the second time. This time, it’s because his coffee pot broke (a shitty off-brand Keurig that he bought on Amazon for about twenty bucks, which for the record is less than the cost of two iced coffees from this place), and he really has to get to work, and the coffee at the office is – fine, actually, but – whatever. 

Whatever.

The coffee in the office is fine, but he’s walking toward the train feeling like his hair and his tie are somehow both on sideways, and a customer pushes out of the café and into the street, bringing with them a wave of caffeinated air, and before Steve has the chance to make a conscious decision one way or another, he’s standing inside the shop, eyes adjusting to the sudden shift to dim lighting.

When he comes to his senses, there’s a brief moment where he considers just turning around and walking right back out, but before he has a chance, the guy behind the counter leans an elbow against the shoulder-height glass pastry case and says –

“Hey man, what can I get you?”

Too late. 

Steve blinks and focuses on him. He’s tallish with long hair that’s been pulled back into a puffy knot on top of his head, dish towel slung over his shoulder, indecipherable band tee, nails painted black, a flock of bats and a long line of perfect crescent moon phases running up his forearm, and – yeah. Steve, in his crisp Brooks Brothers button-up and ironed slacks, is definitely not the right kind of cool to be coming in here.

“You do want coffee, right?” the barista prompts. He raises his eyebrows in question. “I just watched you Pepe Le Pew your way in here, so.”

In spite of himself, Steve laughs. Call it the exhaustion. He takes a step closer to the counter. 

“You saw that?”

The man grins. “You’re hardly the first exhausted corporate zombie to stumble his way through my door.” He reaches for a paper cup, pen in hand. “What’ll it be?”

“Just – coffee?” Steve suggests, then he flushes. “That was dumb. Sorry. I uh – I don’t really know much about coffee. Just a normal one with milk?” Then, remembering last time, he says, “Oat milk. I guess.”

“One drip with oat milk, coming up. You want a muffin or anything with it?” He taps the glass case with the end of his pen. “These just came out of the oven. The cranberry orange.”

“Oh, I –” Steve eyes the muffins in the case, crystalline sugar on top, shiny and perfect-looking. He does kind of want one, but he pictures himself juggling it and the coffee and his phone and – “No, that’s fine. Just the coffee, thanks.”

The man shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He punches a few things into the iPad then flips it around for Steve to pay. “Three seventy five.”

Steve narrows his eyes. That… can’t possibly be correct based on his last experience with the place, but he taps his card and punches in a tip, then nods to the barista as he shuffles off to the end of the counter to wait for his drink. He sends another look toward the muffins, and his stomach grumbles; maybe there’ll be leftover bagels in the office from the morning’s sales meeting?

By the time his coffee is ready, he’s lost in a very detailed fantasy about veggie cream cheese, and the barista has to wave to get his attention to pass him the cup. When Steve takes it, the man produces a little brown paper box and wiggles it in his direction. Steve frowns, confused.

“Oh, that’s not mine. I didn’t –”

The man raises his eyebrows and holds it further toward Steve. “On the house," he says. "Take it.”

Steve sets down his coffee on top of the case and accepts the box, flipping it open to reveal a cranberry orange muffin wrapped in crinkly parchment paper. He closes the lid and gives the barista a smile. 

“You didn’t have to.”

“Obviously I didn’t have to,” the guy says. He rolls his eyes, but it’s not – it doesn’t make Steve feel stupid the way the other girl had. “You looked like you wanted one, so you got one. Now be a good boy and say thank you."

Steve feels his face heat. “Thank you.”

The barista nods in approval then gives him the ghost of a wink before turning to help another customer, and Steve reclaims his coffee, retreating to the door and back out into the cold.

—

He doesn’t really mean to go back the next day, but – well. The coffee had been good, okay, and the muffin had been really good. And it’s Friday, and he’s allowed a treat, and he obviously hasn’t had a chance to replace his own broken machine yet, so.

He doesn’t really have a choice. He’s here by necessity. That’s it.

“You’re back,” the barista says, eyeing him up and down when he gets to the front of the line. “Was my muffin that good, that you had to come crawling back for more the very next day?”

Steve, more alert this morning than he’d been yesterday, manages to smile like a normal human being. 

“Your muffin?”

“Our muffin,” the barista says. He spreads out his hands in front of himself. “New York’s muffin. The world’s muffin.”

“No, I meant –” Steve laughs. “You made them? It was good.”

“I know it was.” He shrugs, then taps the stack of cups on the counter next to him. “Coffee?”

Steve glances at the menu on the wall. He has a suburban Starbucks level of knowledge when it comes to this stuff, which basically means he knows the difference between like… a cappuccino and a latte, sort of but – not really?

“Just the same again, plain with oat milk,” he says. “That was fine yesterday.”

The barista narrows his eyes. “Fine?”

“Good,” Steve corrects. “It was good. Like I said, I don’t know a ton about –” He waves a hand through the air vaguely. “Whatever.” He fidgets under the barista’s continued scrutiny, then adds, “Maybe sweetened this time though? I added sugar when I got to my office yesterday.” Then belatedly, “Sorry.”

“Tell you what,” the man says at last, apparently taking pity on him. He picks up a cup. “I’ll make you something that I think you’ll like, and I won’t even charge you for it. That way if you hate it, you can just – dump it down the drain or something. No hard feelings.”

“I can pay,” Steve says, frowning. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for giving me a bunch of free stuff.”

“Oh, I won’t. The owner likes me,” the man says easily, already busy behind the espresso machine. A burst of steam comes shooting out in a cloud, and he offers Steve a smile. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“Steve,” he says. He hikes his bag higher on his shoulder where it’s slipping down. “Sorry, you probably needed that for the… the cup, or whatever.”

The barista’s smile widens, and he gives Steve another up-and-down look as he waits for the espresso to finish bubbling into the cup. “Nope. Just wanted to know.”

“Oh,” Steve says, feeling himself flush. He shoves his hands in his coat pockets to keep himself from fidgeting even more than he already is. “Okay, what’s yours then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Kind of why I asked.”

The man places the cup on the counter and presses a lid into place, sliding it toward Steve along with another little paper box that, when Steve peeks inside, contains a single croissant. He takes a sip of the coffee, and it’s… delicious, unfortunately, vanilla and caramel and maybe chocolate too? And he’s pretty sure that’s real milk, thank god.

“Come back tomorrow and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“We’ll see,” Steve says mildly, taking another sip. “Thanks for the coffee.”

He gets a teasing little wave in return. 

“Have a good day at work, Steve.”

—

Robin is aghast when he tells her at drinks later that night.

“You’re saying he’s been there this whole time, and you’ve just been – what, walking past and not noticing?!” she asks, leaning forward in her seat. She takes a distressed sip of rosé and widens her eyes at him. “This whole time?”

“Maybe not,” he says defensively. “Maybe he’s new. Maybe – I don’t know.”

“You don’t just give out free coffee on your second day, Steve,” she says, exasperated. She picks up a fry and jabs it into the little pat of mayo on the edge of the plate, gesturing wildly with it before stuffing it in her mouth. “Free coffee and free pastries! He’s totally been there this whole time, and you were just too chicken shit to go in there and see him for yourself.”

“I literally met him by going in and seeing him.”

“Still.” She groans in frustration. “Ugh, I can’t believe you’re getting seduced via baked good. Literally if I could find one single solitary woman in this city who would give me free baked goods as a mating ritual, I’d let her step on my throat.” She places a hand on his forearm and gives him a very serious look. “My throat, Steve.”

He laughs and shakes her off. “You don’t know he’s trying to seduce me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You’re right,” she says. She finishes her wine and sets the empty glass on the bar with force. “The hot tattooed barista who keeps winking at you and giving you free shit for no reason is totally just trying to drum up a loyal customer base for his coffee shop.”

“I didn’t say he was hot.”

She gives him a contemptuous look. “Is he hot?”

He pokes at the lime wedge that’s floating in his gin and tonic and doesn’t meet her eye. “Maybe.”

“You’re blushing. He’s obviously hot. I hate you so much.”

“Okay, don’t – we live in the Village. It can’t possibly be that hard for you to find a lesbian who likes to bake.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t stereotype. Just because we’re ladies and we have breasts.”

“I’m not stereotyping. I’m just saying: go to any plant store, pick a girl with a choppy haircut and a canvas tote bag.” He finishes his own drink and signals to the bartender for another round. “Odds are seventy thirty she’s a lesbian with a chocolate chip cookie recipe.”

“Literally every word out of your mouth just now was a stereotype. I’m breaking up with you.”

She turns her barstool away from him abruptly, and the guy seated on the other side of her blinks in alarm, looking at Steve over her shoulder with wide eyes. Steve gives him an apologetic look and places a hand on Robin’s arm, tugging her back around to face him. 

“Alright, come on, you’re scaring the public.”

She huffs, then gives the stranger a tight smile, then turns back to Steve. “You’re going back tomorrow, right? I’ll forgive you right now if you promise me you will.”

He sighs. “Why do you even care?”

“Because he’s hot,” she says, widening her eyes, “and he has tattoos, and he obviously wants to take you back to his place and do filthy, filthy things to you, Steve, and he knows how to make really good muffins.” She shakes him again. “Steve!”

“Yes!” he laughs, wrenching his arm free of her hold. “Fine, okay. Yes, I’ll go back tomorrow. I don’t even know his name yet. He said he’ll tell me if I do, so – I will.”

“Oh my god.” She buries her face in her hands. “I swear to god, if you fuck this up.”

—

Steve has always been a relatively confident guy. It’s not that. He’s not normally awkward or even shy. 

If anything, he’s better than average at blending in, even managing to convince his parents that he’s still the same person he was when he was a sports star back in high school: he finished his MBA without flaming out like half his class, he got a good-paying job in the city, he even goes back home to Indiana once or twice a year for Thanksgiving or Christmas. 

He’s normal. He’s… acceptable.

Just – he also knows when he doesn’t know something, and that’s when he gets flustered.

Like now, Saturday morning. He’s been standing in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom and staring at himself for a long time – probably too long – fiddling with the cuffs of his jeans and the swoop of his hair and the weird little… thing his sweater is doing where it bunches up around his waist. 

Maybe he should change. Or just… not go? Robin would forgive him, right?

Robin absolutely would not forgive you, says a horrible little voice in the back of his mind that sounds suspiciously like the woman herself. She absolutely would not, and then she’d come directly over to your apartment and let herself in and drag you there herself.

Fine. Just go. 

He takes a deep breath and releases it in a sharp huff. He can do this. He can totally, obviously, absolutely do this. It’s literally just leaving his building, walking three hundred feet down the street to the corner, and entering a coffee shop. That’s all he has to do. That’s all.

He does it.

When he walks in, he casts a curious glance around the space since, for the first time in here, he’s not in a hurry. It seems like no one else is either: it’s busy in a different way than it’s been for the past few mornings, fewer people calling out orders and pushing back and forth through doors, more occupied armchairs and tables with laptops. There’s a record playing in the background, something scratchy and smooth, interrupted by the sound of occasional jets of steam issuing from behind the counter.

And behind the counter is – Steve feels disappointment curdle in his stomach. 

Oh. 

The scary redhead. She’s sitting on a barstool with a knee drawn up to her chest, studying her nails and pretending like she hasn’t seen him. He steps closer to the counter, too close to ignore, and she sighs, looking up at him like his very presence is an affront to her. In spite of himself, he feels a little bubble of nervous laughter crawl up the back of his throat, and he swallows it down.

“Yeah?” she asks.

“Just, uh – a coffee?”

“It’s all coffee,” she tells him in a bored voice. “Are you asking for a drip coffee?”

“Yeah, just that, with oat milk,” he says, then adds, “Thanks.”

She jabs at her iPad then flips it around for him. “Eight dollars. Oat milk’s at the end of the bar, you can add it yourself.”

He gives her an awkward smile as he pays, and she just stares back at him impassively. He’s slipping his card back into his wallet and preparing to run away with his tail between his legs when the door behind the counter pushes open, and Steve’s barista – the nice one who gives him real milk and doesn’t glare at him – backs through it, balancing a tray of cinnamon buns in his arms.

He turns, then spots Steve, and his face breaks into a smile. He sets down his tray.

“Knew you’d be back,” he says, tilting his head with a teasing smile on his face. “Max, this is Steve. We like Steve.”

“This is Steve?” She gives him a once-over, then turns to make a face at the other man. “Seriously?”

Now that’s – “Okay,” Steve says. “I’m literally standing right here.”

“Yes. This is Steve, and today Steve would like a white mocha with two pumps of cinnamon.”

“That’s disgusting.” She makes a face. “Anyway, he paid for a plain drip coffee.”

“I didn’t ask what he paid for. I told you what he’s going to get. Can you make it for him, please?”

She glares at Steve’s barista then slips off her stool with a groan and the deepest eye roll Steve has ever seen in his life. 

“Whatever. It’s your shop.”

“Ignore her,” he tells Steve in a voice loud enough for her to hear. “Max likes to think she’s funny, but she’s actually just judgmental.”

She sticks her tongue out at him then sets about ignoring them, disappearing into a cloud of steam. He lifts up onto his toes to lean forward over the top of the pastry case and get a look at Steve.

“You’re very comfy casual today,” he says, dropping back to his own side. He raises an eyebrow. “Cute sweater.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, feeling himself flush. He tugs at the hem of it as he casts another look around the room. “This is your shop? I didn’t realize when you said the owner liked you, you meant…”

“Yep, all mine,” he says. “I can shamelessly flirt with as many customers as I want. No boss to tell me to get back to work.”

Steve widens his eyes. “Flirting with me, and he won’t even tell me his name.”

The man grins at him, resting his face in one hand. “I guess you’ve earned it.” Steve feels his stomach do a flip. “I’m Eddie.”

“Eddie,” he says, trying it out. It suits him, Steve thinks. “Nice to meet you. Officially.”

“Likewise,” Eddie says as Max passes him the coffee and returns to her stool with a huff. Eddie slides it to Steve across the counter. “Your very disgusting sugary coffee, handcrafted with love by our sweetest barista.”

“Thanks,” Steve laughs, accepting the drink. He pries the lid off to peer inside. “Is this the same as yesterday?”

“Nah, I’m still figuring out what you like,” Eddie says. He waits for Steve to take a sip – another winner, maybe even better than yesterday – then says, “Are you busy tonight?”

Steve looks up from his coffee. Eddie is watching him with an amused tilt to his smile. Steve swallows.

“Am I busy tonight?”

“That’s what I asked. Are you?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Steve clears his throat. “No.”

“Okay,” Eddie says as he folds a cinnamon roll into a box and nudges it in Steve’s direction. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

Steve accepts the box, and before he can second guess himself he says, “Yeah, okay.”

Eddie’s smile is slow and easy. “Good. I wrote my number on the inside of the lid. Text me your address? I’ll pick you up at seven.”

—

When he gets home, he calls Robin, freaking out.

“I didn’t fuck it up,” he says by way of greeting when she answers on the third ring.

“What?”

“Hot tattooed… barista guy,” Steve says, pacing frantic circles around his living room and ripping a hand through his hair. “I didn’t fuck it up. His name’s Eddie, and he gave me a cinnamon roll, and it was really good, and – okay, so it turns out he owns the shop, he doesn’t just work there and –” He stops, staring out the window at the building across the street, unseeing. “And we’re having dinner tonight.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the phone, then a shout, then more silence, and then she says, “Holy shit. What are you going to wear?”

—

After much debate and two facetime calls and eventually Robin just physically marching the three blocks over to help him decide in person, and then him forbidding her from sticking around to interrogate Eddie – when the buzzer goes at seven sharp, 

When the buzzer goes at seven sharp, no games played, he stares at the box on the wall in alarm, half expecting it to come to life and bite his face off. When it doesn’t, he recovers (barely) and jabs at the button to let Eddie inside. 

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #stranger things #my fic #this is me subtly forcing this out into the world so you will all encourage me to keep writing it because i've been stalled on it since jul

[jarviscockerssecrethusband]

Depending on your point of view, coming across Billie Hargrove’s Instagram account was either the best or the worst thing to ever happen in Stevie’s life.

Stevie didn’t even know that butches could have long hair but this one did. Granted in a douchey eighties mullet type of way. She also had a very pronounced six pack which she was not attempting to hide in any of her photos. Crystal blue eyes. A winning smile. Shit.

Billy, they/she, basketball stan and cringe Judith Butler supporter- 60% girl, 40% something else-meanest lesbian ever

Over the course of about three weeks, Stevie had looked over that profile at least six times a day. They were mesmeric and Stevie found herself wanting to be consumed. She’d never felt this way about a boy before. Not even Tommy Hagan who she’d dated for over a year before they split. And Billy was in fucking L.A. Nothing was ever going to happen between them.

Still, she found herself sliding into their DMs just before going to get her hair done. Nothing too I’ll-stab-you-and-keep-your-body-in-the-basement but like casual. Maybe a little flirty. They didn’t seem like they had a girlfriend.

What she ended up messaging was “hi Billie! You don’t know me but I love your jeans where did you get them from ☺️”

Smooth Stevie. Very smooth.

She couldn’t even talk to her hairdresser during her hair appointment because she was so embarrassed by what she’d done. A small part of her genuinely considered setting her phone on fire until she checked it again after her highlights were in.

Incredibly surprisingly to Stevie, Billie responded and not even that, responded very positively indeed.

It was all Hey pretty girl and smirking emojis and I got my jeans from this underground thrift store or whatever and Stevie didn’t exactly take any of the information in because she was so incredibly flustered.

If she flattered herself, Stevie knew she was pretty. She knew she had big eyes and glossy hair and full lips which usually led to a line of guys queuing up for a shot. Billie wasn’t like any of those frat guys she was used to or the pretentious hipsters she’d dated later on in college. If there was chasing that was going to be done, Stevie was going to have to do it herself.

A gratifying squirm started in her gut the next day, when she realised that Billy had followed her back. Stevie may have been far too chickenshit to actually message her back but still. Progress was progress.

They danced around talking for a bit. Billie always liked her stories but there was never actually any flirting. Just a palpable tension. Something waiting to begin.

Stevie was not a patient woman. So she decided to push it forward a little.

Posting a thirst trap wasn’t something Stevie had done since she was bored during lockdown but how hard could it be? It had to be like riding a bike or some shit. So she just uploaded a couple of pictures, no overthinking it.

After deleting about thirty different messages from guys, all of whom were being creeps in different ways, Stevie finally got to the message she hoped she’d get from Billie. For all the anxiety leading up to it, the actual content was remarkably short.

Cute 💖😙

Robin picked up after the third ring. Judging by the time of her voice, Stevie had definitely woken her up from a nap. Whoops.

“What the fuck is it dingus?” Ouch.

Stevie tried to answer without sounding like an absolute moron.

“Robin how do you know if a lesbian is flirting with you?”

The long silence indicated to Stevie that she’d absolutely sounded like a moron.

“What did she say dingus?”

Stevie told her then she hung up. Which seemed harsh.

Billie messaged again the following day. Again it was brief.

Sorry if I misread. I’ll leave you alone now.

Stevie had never scrambled to reply to a message as fast in her life. Begging Billie not to leave, she wasn’t very good at this type of flirting but she wanted to try.

Billie seemed a lot less bummed after that. And much flirtier. They’d explained about their ocd, the constant fear of being creepy or a bad person stopping her from messaging Stevie more. But now that they were talking they could try. If Stevie wanted.

Stevie did want. She wanted very much.

And when finally visited Billy one person about five months later and they were doing dumb first date stuff, being in love, she thought that was a pretty good story to tell their grandkids about how they’d met.

Embarrassing. But good.

@shieldofiron @dragonflylady77 @oopsiedaisiesbaby @thatgirlwithasquid @robthegoodfellow

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove ficlet #sapphic harringrove

[mewtwoandme]

You know. It's incredibly pretentious to make your self insert OC the one who has the biggest positive impact on Mewtwo, not even Ash comes close to it despite turning his world upside down. Especially that your self insert hasn't really shown any single negative trait so far and that you added a tons of emotional problems to Mewtwo that weren't present in the anime or the movies (like his fear of partnership, suicidal thoughts etc...) turning him into an entirely different character so that your self insert will be the one who helps Mewtwo to overcome them. So yes, Lakota is the very definition of a Mary Sue.

I LOVE how some people still think Lakota is a self insert, I laugh my good sir or ma'am, I laugh XD Think what ya want, I guess. If anything, she is the type of person I WISH I was lol. She is entirely her own character. Believe me, if she was truly a self insert of me and what I'm really like, she wouldn't be very likable.

Also, the definition of a Mary Sue, and I quote is "a type of female character who is depicted as unrealistically lacking in flaws or weaknesses." Which for Lakota is false. She has her flaws and weaknesses. One of her major flaws we continue to see is that she tries to be everyone's rock and anchor, and hardly focuses on her own feelings, which may come back and bite her eventually. Just because I don't visually draw out a scenario for every problem she has for you all to see, doesn't mean she doesn't have her own issues :V

Also there's nothing wrong with a character who has a lot of empathy and cares about her family, and is willing to help them if they need it. I guess some people such as yourself have never received such kindness before though.

And as far as Mewtwo's emotional issues, that's just a little thing called 🌈character development/building🌈 sweetie. I touch on topics that most cartoons are hesitant to. And of course he's not gonna have the same personality as he did in the films, do you know how boring that would be? Like yeah, we get it, a cold and emotionally constipated psychic cat who broods and contemplates his purpose and existence all the time....There's only so much you can do with that, I chose to extend his character a little. I try to make Mewtwo feel a little more relatable and real with the emotions I make him experience, realistically based on everything he went through both in the first movie and in Detective Pikachu, trust issues and ptsd/trauma are very understandable and real emotions I think people would experience if they endured what Mewtwo had to go through. But I guess according to you, that's a big no no, well uhhh...ya know? Too bad. :V

I write my story and characters how I want to. I don't need your or anyone's validation or approval. How about YOU make your own version of Mewtwo and YOU come up with a personality that suits him to YOUR liking, rather than wasting your and my time, sending a paragraph long ask, bitching about mine, kay? 😘

#answered ask #anonymous ask

[devilsskettle]

this has been sitting in my drafts for a while because i didn’t feel like being a hater but now i do so:

with all the talk about the glass onion and the menu and vapid “eat the rich” blockbuster movies, i did finally get around to watching some of them, and i have to say about the menu - people have said that it has nothing to say, but it actually has a very clear message! it asks its viewers point blank, “don’t you want your art to be easily consumable?” it’s this:

this is the point. why would you want something new and innovative? that’s pretentious. why can’t you just shut up and eat your fucking mcdonalds

to be fair i would totally fuck up that burger but like. it’s not about the food lol

i mean of course this isn’t about food! it isn’t about the food industry at all. there is nothing specific to that in any way. actually, nothing in the film is specific. all of the characters are just there, bodies in chairs, vague ideas of rich people you don’t like.... in theory. on principal. archetypes that are easy to hate and therefore need no development. and who do we have? a food critic who is actually a stand in for any art critic (of course, we hate art critics! so pretentious. ruining lives by doing their jobs of assessing how well other professionals in their field do their jobs. people in the film industry have no stake in making critics look bad, of course, we just hate them for.... being too verbose. yeah totally). her publisher, enabling her by publishing a magazine about food that she writes for. evil just evil. some.... guys? business guys? generic assholes. an actor? for some reason there’s an actor here. and his.... assistant? who went to college which is evil. two random old people. and a guy who is just really enthusiastic. what are we talking about!!! they don’t even know. but what they really want to say is this, not about food, but about art in general:

“you can’t sit and enjoy something AND think about it. don’t you hate those long boring pretentious intellectual films? everybody is just pretending to like them to make themselves seem smarter. you want the same big blockbuster from a big name studio that you can just turn your mind off while watching and that’s better than anyone trying to do anything different and they’d be happier if they just gave up and succumbed to simple shit with broad appeal” like please. the “let people enjoy things” attitude is so insidious. and do not come over here telling me i’m reading too much into it and it’s not about the film industry! for real, do not be that dense 

anyway. also apparently this guy was soooo much happier being a cook at a fast food place than being a successful chef with total creative control. writers really telling on themselves that they’ve never had a shitty food service job before. you think anybody wants to be there? there are problems across the board in restaurant culture, high and low brow, but come on lmao 

and the last scene..... they were trying so hard to be ready or not. you will never be ready or not 

#the menu #anyway i'm sorry to anya taylor joy but she was so immediately unlikable in this movie #even though you could tell that the writers were trying so hard to make her likable

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter One (Part 2)

“Look at this picture.” I’d said to Claire one day in January as we hung out in my room trying to study.  She’d turned my laptop around to examine the screen. “Yeah, it’s Jude and his friends at some restaurant.” She then sighed. “I can’t believe you’re still checking his profile.”

“Yeah but look at his right hand.”

“Okay. He’s just resting it on the seat.”

“Against that girl’s thigh.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, he’s probably just accidentally touching her. That’s barely even noticeable.”

“They’re together.” I’d concluded. “I just have a feeling.”

“There’s no way you can know that just by looking at his hand.”

“I’m sure I’m right.”

And I was. That’s how I found out about his new girlfriend. Her name is Astrid and she’s from Denmark. She has very light, white blonde hair and is always wearing something black with a flattering cut, putting together trendy outfits with items that you can’t get in the shops in Ireland. I know all about her. They go to college together, she studies ceramics and she’s twenty, a whole year older than he is, and two years older than me, which makes her seem tenfold more threatening. Sometimes when I’m feeling particularly masochistic I’ll scroll through her social media and take note of all the things about her that make me feel bad. Her skin, her eyelashes, her lips, her hair, her boobs, her nails, the fact that her boyfriend has his arms around her in her profile picture when those arms could have been around me instead.

‘She’s not that pretty.” Claire reassures me once we get to Starbucks, because once again, like a broken record, I’m talking about Astrid. We’d only settled into our seats with our coffees when I’d come across yet another photo of her, sitting on a carousel shot in monochromatic 35mm film. Very arty. 

“I think she is.” I say mournfully.

“She’s not. She just has nice hair.”

“Unlike some of us.” I reach up to touch the nape of my neck where my hair now abruptly stops. I had to have six inches chopped off on account of my split ends and heat damage, and I’ve never gotten used to how plain the cut makes me look and feel. My mam insists that it makes me look French, but I know it actually makes me look five.

“Come on Evie, what does it matter? She’s a random Danish girl and I bet she’s really pretentious and boring.”

“She can’t be boring. Not if he likes her.”

“Maybe he likes her because she drops her knickers for him.”

I frown, disturbed by the thought of that. I look at my iPhone 4 and scroll to the next photo of her. “Look at her here, you can see her better. She is actually just objectively pretty.”

“I don’t need to see her, you’ve already forced me to look at her enough times.”

“Do you think I should wear more black? Like do you think this is the look for me?”

Claire confiscates my phone. “Stop looking at her. It’s bad for your brain. You’re fine the way you are, now can we please stop talking about Astrid the boring Dane and talk about the exam instead?”

“The exam!” I cry, putting my forehead onto the table. “I’m doomed.”

“If you’re doomed, imagine how I feel! That whole paper was bonkers.”

“English Paper Two will be worse.”

“And let’s not even think about the rest of them.”

“I wish I could be put down.”

She puts her hand on the back of my head and smooths down my hair. “No, look, we’ll be fine. You were right, we can’t fail.”

“And if we do?”

“Well, you already sorted with your NCAD pre-offer, and as for me, whatever. My dad will sort something out.” By that she means he will enrol her in a private university where nobody cares about how much you got in the Leaving Cert, only how much money is in your dad’s wallet. 

“We still need to pass.” I moan. “For like, the principle of it. Imagine how humiliating it would be to open up that envelope in August and see a complete shambles.”

“Yeah, and Christ, imagine what Kelly would say. I’d never get over that.” I glance up to see her smirking, and then I smile too, and before we know it we’re in peals of laughter over our coffee. Claire does an impression of Kelly’s smug face, perfectly emulating the way that she flicks her hair and pushes her chin out, and then I join in too, doing my best Kelly voice, imagining her in all kinds of insane scenarios where she’d be trying her best to make us feel bad, but failing hilariously. After a few minutes we’re in pieces, shoulders shaking, tears rolling down our cheeks, not even caring that people are looking at us. 

“God.” She says between gasps of laughter “I love you, Evie.”

“Same.” I say. “I dunno what I’d do without you.”

We survive the rest of the Leaving Cert, and after I hand in my final paper I don’t think about any of the exams again. I can’t face the uncertainty of it hanging over me, even though I know I probably did alright, but I’m not going to make my parents proud with my results. 

I work in a café for the summer, spending my days serving coffee, even learning how to create hearts and flowers with the foam. The women I work with swear that I can do it so well because I’m an artist, but I’m not convinced that’s true. I think it’s more to do with focus. I find that when I’m working, when I’m really truly immersed in something that’s physical, like loading up the dishwasher or wiping down the fridges, I don’t really have time to get lost in my thoughts, and it suits me. I don’t have to spend the long summer days mourning last year, wishing I could be in the water every day again, picturing the feeling of the warm sand under my feet and the possibilities of what was ahead of me. Now my days are just routine, endless polishing of cutlery, mopping floors and tossing frozen scones into the oven again and again until my back aches, my feet hurt and I’m too exhausted to worry about anything else.

On slower days I get carried away and imagine all sorts of fantastical things, like what I would do if one day I looked up and Jude was in the queue, ordering a coffee from me. I wonder what kind he would get. An espresso? Americano? Does he even drink coffee? There’s so many things I don’t know about him. When I start wishing he would talk to me, I know it’s time that I find something to keep me busy.

I’m blandly content here, working, serving, waiting for August to come. Waiting to get my college offers so that I can leave Tullamore and move to Dublin and start all over again as a new and improved version of myself who isn’t obsessed with a boy who doesn’t like her. 

Prev // Next

#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims stortelling #lucky girl part 2

[jerzwriter]

Here’s a food for thought in regards to your dirty secrets which are NOW out in the open:

You’re the fakest fucking bitch ever in Tumblr to ever exist along with your precious Jamespotterthefirst and your little crew. You love to bully others who don’t write Open Heart fanfiction but yet you bully others who write “Laws of Attraction” fan fiction and hate on the book. By the way, @flowernewsqueen is the “Queen of Laws of Attraction” skills and she’s much more better than you. Do not act like you don’t know her because she’s a gem in the fandom over on instagram. So go fuck yourself for talking shit about her and anyone else who loves the book.

You ruined everything with the characters of Ethan Ramsey and Tobias. Get help you fucking cunt.

Uh... Nonny... sweet, sweet Nonny... you may want to have your meds adjusted. No shame in that game, really. I do it when needed, and I suggest you should too. Trust me.

This is my face at the moment because:

a) I bully those who don't write OH? Uhm. OK. I actually write for stories other than OH and want to expand on that... and I spend an insane amount of time running CFWC to support all Choices creators. But you listen to those voices in your head, boo. Like - what do you do to support anyone else in the fandom? Send sweet messages like this? It's unimpressive, honestly.

b) I hate Laws of Attraction? Really? That's news to me. Like, do I hate ham sandwiches too? Because that's just as fucking random. I have no issues with LOA, and even if I did, I wouldn't begrudge anyone else the right to enjoy it - much less bully them over it. Truly. Baffled.

c) I don't know the writer you refer to. I am almost never on Instagram; I only created an account there to support artists who aren't on Tumblr. Like, what kind of weed are you smoking, Nonny, and if it's that fucking good, can you share it with the rest of the class? Don't be stingy.

Babydoll, I'm here trying to determine if you have really bad sources if you were dropped on your head, or both... because you're buggin'. If attention was your goal - well - I apologize for giving you any. You won't get any more...but I decided not to delete this because it is just SO FUCKING RANDOM and I'm in my Reputation era - so I don't give a fuck.

Oh, and being fake? Bitch. Call me a bitch. Call me crazy. Call me whatever you like. Opinions are like assholes, we all have one, and the majority of them stink. But fake? I'm me in all my ridiculousness and proud of it. I parade my crazy out on the front porch and serve it sweet tea in plain view - hope it provides a little entertainment. I'm not some pretentious little c*nt trying to act like something I'm not. Mirror, sweetheart - get to a mirror. Fast.

You must be really bored or need a new hobby. Go outside, man. See a movie. Attend a concert. Visit a friend. Get Laid. Touch some grass...anything... because you're off your fucking rocker.

#nonny be smokin the laced shit #get a life #others will be deleted #because fuck this nonny #if you're still sending anon hate in the year of our lord 2023 get to a therapist #did anyone think they'd deal with shit like this because they like a stupid fucking game app? lmao it's laughable to me. #over and out #asks very much answered

[andguesswhat]

Hhm, I guess there's a reason why Timmy is an elf, an angel or a devil when I write xD This feels pretentious and intrusive. Way more than writing smut. Lol

So don’t mind my silly thoughts about vague possibilities that could be the other way around. But I couldn’t ignore the fact that Timmy keeps repeating the word `boring´ xD and `family/kids´ ;)

Thoughts on a random day in January.

*

Of course they teased him.

About his marriage, about being married.

About being a husband.

Married at 25, now 27, still young. None of his friends with partners would even come close to the idea of committing to someone for life.

But he had. It had felt right, still did. He had already been through everything with Armie, what else could happen that would change his mind? And yet, since then, not necessarily because of the marriage, but simply because of the circumstances, something had changed. The beginning of their relationship had been a hell of a roller coaster ride. As if it wasn't enough to deal with all his feelings and hormones as a young adult in such a blatant clash with a person he had fallen so deeply in love with, Timmy also had to deal with it as a public figure. Who wasn’t allowed to love this exact person that he loved so much. So while he still had to figure out for himself what it meant to love so badly, at the same time he had to hide it all in plain sight. Failed sometimes miserably. But had to try and try again because there was just no other choice.

And that was just the beginning. All the decisions that had to be made regarding this, all the shams he hated so much, all the organization just to be able to have a relationship like this at all. All the crap that had happened when they thought they had overcome the most difficult part.... It was getting quieter now. And often he wondered if it was getting boring, too. Sure, the wild love years were over. Nobody stays in love like this forever. And he would maintain, if he went by the study that examined the length of the infatuation phase and claimed that one can be in love for up to a maximum of three years, that they had gotten the most out of it. But he wouldn't even want to be so conceited to claim that it was necessarily because of them. All the obstacles, all the times being apart, it all led to them having a very very strong crush for a very very long time. Which at that time felt would last forever. And now? Was this phase over? Really over forever? Would it never be the same again? He was not sure.

And he wasn’t sure how much he would miss it. They had felt the daily routine of a long-term relationship before. He had caught himself long before wondering one morning if Armie couldn't have eaten a little less garlic and onions. Or maybe could have just brushed his teeth before he kissed him hungrily. But he was happy with Armie and the sex had been good, so why complain about random things like that? Still, they had these little fights, quite a few, now and then. For example, when Armie was quite often annoyed that Timmy listened to his rap music, too loud, and sometimes couldn't stand it because it just wasn't his music. And Timmy could get endlessly annoyed that Armie always bought way too much food, put it in the fridge until it molded so they always had to throw away way too much. Or how Armie got upset with him for leaving his stuff lying around everywhere in the house like he was a little kid. How Timmy had freaked out when Armie once lost in thought threw Archie's full poop bag on the counter instead of in the trash can. All that kind of stuff. But actually, it was exactly that that had made Timmy say `yes´ when Armie asked him to marry him. After all, what surer indication is there that you still want to be with someone until the end of time, even if sometimes you just can't stand each other? Often Timmy also had to realize that this not-bearing-it was simply unfair of him, because if he was annoyed that Armie in some situations sometimes just let his family do everything with him, and gave way too little back talk in regard to Liz and did not make it clear to her often enough what a danger she was for the children, then it was because his family was his family and Armie saw these back talks with Liz as just another danger to the kids. Liz. Timmy really tried to get along with everyone, but Liz... He hated her so abysmally. It was unprecedented. But he knew, of course, that Armie had no choice but to get along with her. Because of his kids. So how could Timmy be mad at him if he didn't keep telling her off, as he would like to do. And how unfair it would be of him to constantly rub Armie's nose in this hopeless situation. He admired Armie for that. For keeping quiet, for not taking his anger out on her. The one who was responsible for so much of his misery. It had to take a tremendous effort. Like in general everything that concerned Armie's situation. So much that Timmy sometimes wondered where Armie took all this strength from. Still not to give up, to make life worth living, to have fun with it, to be happy and to laugh. And that's why Timmy had to realize that their relationship wasn't always the center of attention. It wasn't all about them. At least not when there were other, more important things. So it happened that when Timmy came home after a long time of shooting and wanted nothing more than to see Armie, to hug him, to laugh happily with him, to kiss him, to end up in bed with him, Armie was happy to see him... but on a completely different level than he was. He had to accept that. And when Armie dragged him down with him into the maelstrom of frustration of the injustices they both couldn't do anything about, and Timmy's good mood completely evaporated, he had to accept that too. If Timmy tried to distract Armie, wanted Armie not to fret too much about a court date or whatever, but he couldn't get to him, couldn't manage to distract him, couldn’t change his train of thought, then he had to accept that. And he had to accept if Armie didn't tell him everything some days, didn't want to tell him everything. Because Armie wasn't doing it because he wanted to hide something from Timmy. But because at that moment, that was exactly what kept him from going crazy. So Timmy had to endure those situations where he would have liked to be there for Armie to help him, but Armie didn't want that.

He learned to be there despite not being wanted or needed. And he still did not want to be anywhere else. That was also why he had said `yes´ when Armie had asked him to marry him. He wanted to help Armie as much as he could, even if he sometimes couldn’t. So why did he keep wondering about what had happened to their relationship? Like thinking about how they've been living their own lives more and more lately. Sure, they had always led their own lives, and that had been fine.

But it was very common now for Timmy to say `no´ when Armie asked if he wanted to come along when he met up with his friends. He did like Armie’s friends and was glad they liked him, too, but in the grand scheme of things they were too different. He often couldn't relate to their conversations, it was another world and not his, so he preferred to stay at home and read or facetime with one of his friends. So weren't they much too different after all? Didn't that mean they were growing apart? The age difference had been an issue in the beginning because society made it one. But they came to the conclusion that society had the problem, not them.

Still he had long ago stopped teasing Armie about being too old for anything, stopped saying "old man." It wasn't about being old. But he had seen an insecurity in Armie's eyes. And Timmy wondered if it was because he, Timmy, was still so young. So young and only with one real, serious relationship in his life.

Maybe Armie thought, how could anyone not want to try out more? Know what it was like with another partner? At the same time, Timmy didn't care. Again, one of those things that society expected of him and he had no interest in fulfilling it. He wouldn’t change what they had for a quick thrill.

The same with the sex. Sure they still had good sex, no question.

But at one point he was asking himself, wasn't there a bit of thrill missing like before? Because they were doing the same things over and over again. Was that the point where they had to buy more sex toys? Even if they already had so much? But if he was honest, and he believed Armie felt the same way, they liked to keep it simple, they didn't have to try everything and almost always used the same stuff. And above all: What he had when he was with Armie, feeling so safe and loved... he wouldn't trade all that for a little more thrill. Sometimes, though, he wondered if that was why Armie had asked him to marry him. To be more sure that Timmy really really loved him. And did not intend to chase one day the thrill like so many others seemed to do. But he hadn't dared to ask Armie about it yet. Instead, he wondered if they were drifting too far apart now and just didn't realize it. Under the false assumption that marriage would already make sure everything stayed ok. There were times, nothing of this was apparent. Timmy was away a lot, Armie too, with his kids, and they sometimes didn't see each other for weeks, so they were (mostly) just happy to finally be together again. But then there were the times when they saw each other for extended periods of time, waking up next to each other in the same bed for weeks. And if this used to be the times when they spent the whole time kissing, touching, love making, or Timmy telling Armie everything that was on his mind or the other way round, in any case being connected at all the time, now there were also times when they were together, but not connected. Both doing their own thing. And Timmy noticed how, as much as he wished it wasn't, and as much as it seemed strange to him that this was happening with them, of all people, there were evenings, breakfasts, where they didn't have that much to tell each other because there was just nothing left to tell, when they spent so much time together. Sometimes he would tell Armie something he had already told him, because he couldn't stand the silence, and sometimes he let himself go with the silence and was surprised to find that he kind of liked it. Just being together. Saying nothing. But when it went up a notch, when Armie sometimes didn't even look at him when he was talking to him because his mind was elsewhere, Timmy had started to worry. Then Timmy had kicked Armie's shin with his foot and said "Look at me!" and Armie had laughed, apologized and looked at him.

For the next weeks, too. And the sex also became more exciting again.

Maybe it was just his job to remind them every now and then how much they loved each other. Even without nights when they talked for hours, when they were crazy about each other, when they couldn't get enough of each other. Mentally and physically. But he had to admit it became a bit difficult when he himself was in a bad mood. When he himself was unhappy. Or sad. Because he often did not dare to bother Armie with it. What problems did he have in contrast to Armie?

What was his sadness about losing his grandma in contrast to Armie not having his kids around and all the mess that surrounded him?

Armie had so much on his plate, he didn't need a bad-tempered boyfriend as well. So Timmy would cry to his family in situations like this. Depending on the subject, his mom, his sister, or his dad. And yet, when Armie "caught" him once on the phone crying to his sister, he sat with him down afterwards, put his hand on his knee and said, "Tell me about these things, I'm your husband, I want to be there for you, I want to know." He was right about that, of course.

So everything was as it should be, wasn’t it? How many times did he have to come to the conclusion that everything was good the way it was? Wasn't it a bad sign to have to keep making sure? It annoyed him. Why couldn't he just be sure and that was it?

But today was another day when Timmy started to think. The celebrations of the last weeks were over. Hanukkah, Christmas, his birthday, celebrating the new year, ski vacations... where everything was as it should be... Talking, laughing, having fun, fucking.

Now quietness had returned and Timmy didn't know what that meant for them now. He would have a few days off until things started up again for him. The house was all set up. And now they were sitting here on the seating set, each on another couch, reading. Shouldn't they be squatting together, close together, Timmy's head in Armie's lap, like they had done so often before? He thought of their vows. In Paris, in front of their friends. How they both beamed, how they both struggled not to burst into tears. And he thought of the vows they gave each other later, then all alone. Because they were so intimate, it was just for them.

Armie's cell phone rang, and Timmy looked over at Armie. It was Ford. Timmy's soul always ached when he heard Armie's voice for Ford. So much love and warmth and yet there was always a certain sadness in his voice that he tried to cover with even more love and warmth. In those moments he couldn't wait to have a family of their own with Armie, to have kids of their own. He wanted kids nonetheless but the main reason he wanted kids was that he wanted his kids to have the kindest and coolest dad in the world.

He couldn’t wait to see Armie with them. Spoiling them, goofing around with them.

Raising them with his beliefs. Being his. And not been taken away from him.

But Timmy was still young, they still had to wait until everything else was settled, and the thought of how they were actually going to put their wish into practice always made him feel sick on a regular basis. But they would find a way, just as they had always found a way. And others had done it before them. He felt so much love for Armie right now. So deep. Sure, he'd loved him for years. Nor did they lack opportunities to express it. Whenever they had to say goodbye, physically for several days, `I love you´, or on the cell phone because they missed each other so much, `I love you´, after sex, `I love you´, at celebrations, birthdays, Christmas, New Year. `I love you, I love you, I love you´. Now there was actually no occasion to say it, but more than ever, he wanted it because he just felt it. Armie had already ended the call, typing something on his cell phone, still seeming a little tense. And Timmy said, on a random day in January, "I love you." Armie looked up, a little surprised, put instantly his phone aside and came over to sit next to Timmy. Their bodies immediately close, Armie taking Timmy's legs on top of his, his fingers intertwining with Timmy’s and looking at him with a warm smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you... It's nothing important..." Timmy whispered. Armie’s smile grew bigger. "You tell me you love me on a January 6th at", he looked at his watch, "2:34 pm, for no reason, and you think it's not important? Even if it's not important to you, it's definitely important to me. And also a good opportunity to say that I love you, too. Terribly."

Timmy felt his heart skip a beat.

“Did you marry me because you were afraid I was going to leave you some day?” And without any sign of indignation that he had asked, Armie answered. “No. I married you because I wanted to show you that I want to be by your side until I die. If you ever want to leave, I’ll let you. And I'll be thankful for the time you were by my side.”

Timmy pulled Armie close to kiss him.

He came to the conclusion that it was not in vain but quite important to think about their relationship, over and over again. To be able to value it. And it was just what people meant when they said a relationship is work.

Love is work.

On oneself the most.

“I won’t go anywhere,” he whispered between the kissing. “I want to be here. With you. Always.”

And he felt like there was a tingling in his body that felt just like it did back then. When he had first fallen in love with Armie.

*

#charmie #charmie fanfic #sorry way too long #and no smut #love is love is love #Armie Hammer #i don't know maybe I delete it later xD

[therealeagal]

Baldur's Gate 3 - companion ranking.

Decide for yourselves whether my list is accurate or not. Whichever you decide, please do @ me, bro. I'm interested to know who your favorite character is!

I switched up my usual intro. What do you think? Anyway. Let's begin. This is a list of the companions in Baldur's Gate 3. I think I got all of them. There's so many. They are enumerated from best to worst.

Wyll Ravenguard, the Blade of the Frontiers. Really got a stick up his ass. I try to romance him and he starts throwing out disapproves whenever I talk to someone else. Motherfucker I'm not the one flirting with them I just want to know what they're up to. Stuck up piece of shit. Also I guess he's a hypocrite that literally sold his soul for power (he says he had a good reason…) But mainly I'm mad about him being a fucking diva when other people flirt with me. Fuckin' Wyll… Wyll stans got pissy at me because they didn't get the joke. Well, his placement at the very bottom of the list was a joke. Don't tell the stans, but my review was completely accurate) What? I didn't say anything. I mean, Wyll Ravenguard is Ao's gift to humanity. There exists no person in this world that is better than Wyll. I could wax loquacious about all the ways in which Wyll is perfection beyond perfection, but I won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that no matter what Karlach's entry may suggest, Wyll is truly the greatest of the great.

Scratch the dog. Maybe it's just because I'm a dog person, but there's no way you can convince me that Scratch isn't the best.

The owlbear cub, for much the same reasons as Scratch. Although I can't say I have any strong feelings one way or the other about owls or bears...

Karlach. No question that Karlach would take the top spot if Scratch and the owlbear weren't around. As she is the first companion that is both A: a good person and B: not a prick about it on top of being irrepressibly cheerful and kind, there is no question that Karlach is the best official companion (Scratch and the owlbear are more pets/familiars than companions). I mean, Gale is also a good guy too and he's not an asshole about it, but he's kind of a tool. Karlach is a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day.

Editing this one in, because I FORGOT WITHERS! Rookie mistake. Sorry, Withers!

Jaheira. I never played the first two Baldur's Gate games, but I understand that Jaheira is a returning character. Either way, she's a fuckin' badass. A regular in my final party.

Shadowheart/Lae'zel. It's hard to choose between the two. They've both got excellent storylines, which are actually quite similar in a lot of ways. And they're both badass chicks. What's not to love?

Boo, the miniature giant space hamster and his human familiar, Minsc of Rashemen. Also often a fixture in my party, because he's funny.

Gale Dekarios. To be honest, I wasn't crazy about Gale at first. Kind of pretentious. But he's grown on me. Yes, he is kind of a tool, but at least he generally likes it when I'm nice to people, unlike a certain vampire who shall remain unnamed... also he eats three of my magic items. Not that I was using them but it's the principle of the matter!

(this is Wyll's true rating, but ignore it because obviously he belongs at the top of the list. PLEASE LIKE ME!)

Halsin. Ever wanted to fuck a bear? In every sense of the word? Well, have I got news for you!

Astarion. WHY DO YOU HATE IT WHEN I'M NICE TO PEOPLE, ASTARION??!?!?!?!?!? IT'S SO ANNOYING!!!

The dirt.

The worms inside the dirt.

The stool of the worms inside the dirt.

Minthara. A giant asshole. Which I guess is to be expected. Still better than Solas. Yes, I know they are from two different games. Shut up. Fuckin' Solas...

The Emperor. He of the gaslighting and the tentacles.

The Absolute. Yes, the main bad guy. I'd rather hang out with the main bad guy than...

Oh, lemme edit this in. Just in case. If you, for some reason, get your dander up about the contents of this list, please refrain from reblogging this to just whinge about what a terrible person I am. Not that I am opposed to someone challenging my ideas, but the death spiral does get tedious quite fast. If you really really got an axe to grind, try the PMs. Please and thank you. :)

#spoilers #spoiler warning #fuckin spoilers #but I don't want people whinging at me #baldur's gate 3 #scratch the dog #owlbear cub #jaheira #lae'zel #shadowheart #minsc and boo #minsc #gale dekarios #halsin #astarion #minthara baenre #wyll ravengard #bg3 withers

[orchideous-nox]

🕯️,🥤,🧃,🍄,🍬,❄️,🏜️,🍅,🐝 and 🎨 for the writers truth or dare ask game < 3

it's 12:20am lets see if I can get through these by 1am lets goooo oh my god this is so many okay

🕯️- on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?

Like a 3, maybe a 4. The only part of editing I enjoy is that its the last step in the writing process and then I get to upload the fic, I just find it boring and lowkey stressful and 1 typo always makes it's way into the fic no matter what I do

🥤 - recommend an author or fanfic you love

okay I can't just keep saying Alex (but also yes I can, go check out heartnipnops on ao3) and I recently read "I adored you Madly, Extravagantly, Absurdly" by MiriamMT which I devoured like way too quickly so I'll go with that!

🧃 - share some personal lore you never posted about before

*gasp* KATIE LORE?! Okay eerrrmmm trying to think about what I have or haven't posted. I have a degree in Film Studies, I wrote my dissertation on representations of masculinity in Hollywood films of the 1990s with a focus on Robin Williams in Jumanji, Mrs Doubtfire and Good Will Hunting! That was a lot of fun to write and I can occasionally get pretentious about films from time to time. I am always down to talk films with people though

🍄 - share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

okay love this, I don't usually keep track of my hc's and don't want to revert back to my usual bottom barty and evan collects teeth bullshit.

It seems to have made it into my fics' canon that Barty’s phone screen is always smashed or cracked but I think Evan’s is pristine like he has a fucking bumper phone case incase he drops it, with a screen protector and if it gets the slightest scratch he gets frustrated and buys a new screen protector.

🍬 - post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

Again, I don't want to just say bottom Barty again but that is a hill I'll die on. I think a fair amount of my opinions are relatively popular, or at least aren't unpopular.

Okay so I came back to this and I have nothing. Scouse Barty. Not an opinion, I'm here for it though.

❄️ - what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best

i shouldn't say too much about this but my lovely friend who sent me this ask, Alex, has a future fic on his masterlist that we have discussed extensively of like a stalkery and murdery Rosekiller fic that I'm very obsessed with and he knows this and I'm very excited for it because its all I could want in a Rosekiller fic. This also makes it sound like I only have 1 friend because I just talk about Alex.......oh well

🏜️ - what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

Oh my god Alex just ask me to suck your dick next time 😒 but seriously I love when people pick out quotes that they like or certain aspects of the fic such as loving the ship dynamic or my writing style.

🍅 - give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing

I withdraw the dick sucking joke, me and my inflated ego hate you.

I think there are times I need to learn to be more concise. I don't have to give a whole life story in a smut fic and some brevity might do me some good if I can learn how to say more in less words.

🐝 - tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

Oh my god seriously 🙄

Okay so my biggest support is @futurequibblerjournalist aka Alex who I have been continuously hyping up and roasting in the answers to the questions he asked me. He knows he's my biggest supporter and, like a wanker, wants me to inflate his ego.

I could say that Alex has correct opinions (because we share a lot of them) or that he's a great writer but I've already said that like twice in this post. But above all Alex is just one of the best people I know, over the last 5 months we've talked like every day extensively and on good days or bad days he has been a light for me like a sparkly fucking bitch I hate him and myself so much I'm going to throw up now brb

🎨 - link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

I'm resisting temptation to make this about Alex and his stupid fucking Cowboy Rosekiller art based on my Cowboy Rosekiller fic 🖕

Actually no, we're making this an Alex-fest because fuck you.

i love it. I love everything about it.

But I'm also going to include one that isn't from my fic

This art by @julesart04 revolutionised my love for Barty and inspired a movement for Barty’s whorish waist on my page

Okay it's 1:10am and I'm pretty sure Alex is about to declare me as a stalker and block me ✌️

#ask game #katie lore

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

For the Descendants prompts - some kind of AU where two of the Hooks ended up in the same crew, or maybe it's just that Harriet and Uma's crew banded together for survival over the winter or something. Anyway, everyone having to deal with two Hooks in positions of authority on the same ship. And that's without throwing CJ into the equation.

Hmm, it's probably not what you meant but turns out that absence of Uma draws out the worst in people.

So. Insults, swearing, and overall toxic relationships. I don't make the rules. (Sorry?)

(Uma is okay, Ursula just left the Isle with Hades and possibly other *Villains* belonging to Greek Parthenon when Hades got bored. Stuff happens.)

Also, I want to write a second chapter for this. The vague plan involves regicide. What with no one there to stop the Hooks.

Things are going fine, they really are.

Totally.

Well, fine. No one is actively dying, at least, which is about as good as it gets on the Isle.

The Hooks aren't yelling at each other – a rare occasion, that!

Sure, it might be because Harriet is, ehm, busy in her cabin, and CJ is nowhere to be seen, but Harry is enjoying not having his sisters around for once.

They're annoying, you see, and always think they're in the right. A trait that definitely doesn't run in the family.

Harry sneers at that thought, lips curled and eyes cold. If he bothered to look up, he'd see his crewmates frozen at the sight.

If you'd ask them, they'd tell you he is more haunting the deck of the ship than anything else: Sitting at the railing of the command bridge with no care in the world, reading an overly pretentious book he probably stole from his sister or his father.

Scaring the pirates into actually performing their tasks with his mere presence.

A blood red phantom of what could be.

Harry smirks and taps his lips with his hook, only glancing up to tell Desiree to move it unless she wants to be scrubbing the deck for the rest of eternity, and off her own blood at that.

He gets back to reading without checking if she obeys her command.

Next time Harry looks up, it is to greet Ginny Gothel, who just walked from the Captain’s cabin, smudged lipstick and tangled hair. Self-satisfied smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, which are so dark they might be black holes. Pupils and nothing else.

She doesn‘t look him into the eyes much longer.

„So long, witch,“ he tells her, sliding of the railing and coming closer, „Ad arbitrium.“

She catches his hook before he can touch her cheek: „Fuck you, Hook,“ she says.

The deck is silent.

„You wish,“ he answers, or maybe „Is my sister not enough?“

Maybe he said both, and maybe neither; Ginny laughs, high and wild. The wind carries the mocking sound away.

She never answers.

Harry doesn’t look after her as she leaves the ship. After all, Ginny Gothel is not his problem. He barely cares if she lives or dies.

He takes out a flask from his pocket; his rings clank on it way too loudly as he opens it. He takes a sip of the vile liquid inside.

His sister, the mighty Captain Harriet Hook of Dead Beauty, stumbles out of her cabin and immediately tears the flask out of his hands. He lets her have her drink before he pushes her away and takes <i>his</i> flask back. She can get her own alcohol, please and thank you.

Besides.

She just saw Ginny.

„She left already?“ Harriet asks. She does not sound heartbroken or sad in the slightest, nope, not at all. She is a Hook and they don’t have a heart, anyone could tell you.

Harry doesn’t deem it worthy of an answer anyway.

With another drink, he says: „And this is why I should be the Captain, sister dear.“

She sneers at him, grabbing the alcohol again. He will be resupplying from her personal stock.

Unsurprisingly, the taste of cheap rum does nothing to lessen her sneer.

„You, sister dearest, spend your time drunk and fucking that witch of yours, or worse yet, the Tremaine Lord wannabe.“

If the deck hadn’t been dead quiet and abandoned before, it certainly was now.

„You say that as if you didn’t fuck half the Isle, frater care,“ Her knuckles turn white where she holds the flask. Neat.

„And you drink as much as me.“

„Are you calling me a whore?!“ he declares in mock offence, loud enough for half the port to hear, really.

„And I ain’t lying!“

Neither of them knows who started throwing things at this point, and the crew is too scared to tell.

Sometime during the fight, CJ comes, sneaking around them to get to her cabin; the older siblings interrupt their fight barely long enough to ask her where was she so long, and where does she think she is going?

„Why,“ the youngest Hook turns her nose up, „I’m crashing at Freddie’s now. Just getting some weapons and jewels and stuff. Eyeliner.“

„Touch my eyeliner and die–“ They both threaten at the same time, „Touch my jewels with one of your fingers and I cut off your whole hand, savvy?!“ adds Harriet.

„Geez, chill a bit. As if your stuff were Freddie’s style,“ sneers Calista, undisturbed by her older siblings, „Also, Anthony’s coming over. Just thought y’all would like to know.“

CJ cackles as her older sister pales considerably and uses the distraction to slip away from her siblings’ grip once more. Chaos cannot wait and all that.

„Well,“ Harry drawls, „I'll leave you to your amans, then.“

Harriet glares at him, but for once, she doesn't shout; she takes a swig of (her own) alcohol and steadies herself by gripping his shoulder.

„You could go scare him off,“ she suggests, „I'm not in the mood for him right now.“

Yeah, no. She isn't in the mood for him because he is likely going over to scold her for getting too drunk or too high with Ginny, or possibly just for not including him.

And Harry isn't gonna stop that, no. He likes seeing his older sister in trouble.

He pushes her off his shoulder.

„Well, that just sounds like a you problem,“ he tells her, „Have fun!“

„I'm gonna kill you and skin you alive and feed your toes to Tick Tock one by one—“

Harry just smiles at the death threats, all teeth, and blows her a kiss.

He dodges the lamp she threw at him without breaking his stride and jumps back at the railing; he gets back to pretending to read.

He flips the page three times without seeing the words before Anthony shows up, but that's fine, he has it memorised. Then he drops the pretense, still as a statue: The lordling will barely notice anything but Harriet anyway.

Anthony Tremaine struts on board as if the whole ship belonged to him. He doesn't bother asking for permission to board, which makes Harry snarl at him.

Anthony doesn't as much as flinch.

„Harriet,“ he says instead of greeting.

Silence; the crew barely breathes.

„Don't be a bitch, sweetheart.“

Harriet finally shows up at the insulting nickname and she is glaring daggers with burning eyes.

Harry whistles – that was fast.

She glares at him too, though she gets back to piercing holes through Anthony rather quickly.

„What do you want?“ she asks with her arms crossed over her chest.

Anthony unwisely steps closer to her and Harry holds his hook tighter.

„Why, can't I check on you?“ he replies with a question on his own, still playing that ridiculous game. She only quirks her eyebrow and he speaks again, his voice noticeably colder:

„I told you not to do <i>that</i>, Harriet.“

„Do what.“

Harriet is playing stupid and no one is falling for it; Anthony steps closer to her yet.

He grabs her wrist none too gently as he pushes against her and tells her: „I told you not to take Ginny's stuff, Captain–“

„It's not good for you.“

(But what if she doesn't care?)

„It's not good for her either.“

(Ginny definitely doesn't care.)

„She just leaves you on after.“

(Like you don't; like anyone wouldn't.)

„I told you <i>not to–</i>“

„You don't <i>get to</i> tell me what to do, Tremaine!“ she finally snaps and pushes him away; he stumbles a bit, but stays on his feet.

Shame.

Harry slides down from the railing and circles closer, quiet as the air before the storm.

„Yes I do–“ protests Tremaine, as if he got a say, „As long as we–“

„As long as we what, Anthony?! What?!“

He can't answer and everyone knows it. He steps back to her and tries to take her hand – she jerks away from the contact violently, swaying only the tiniest bit.

He doesn't move to catch her.

„You don't get to give me orders, Lord Tremaine, and I don't want to see you – go away!“ she shouts at him and before can touch her again, she pushes him again.

He falls on the hard wood and in a heartbeat, Harry is between him and his sister.

There is a hook at Tremaines cheek and there is blood at the hook.

Harry bares his teeth at the boy who dares bother his sister and Captain and behind him, Harriet cackles.

„Go away, Tremaine!“ she shouts loud enough for the majority of the Isle to hear, „Go away and don't come back!“

„Bitch–“ Anthony hisses as if he were in any position to complain and more blood drips down on the board of Dead Beauty.

„Tell Ginny not to come either, everything is her fault anyway.“

Harry lets go of Anthony, as this lover's spat is getting a bit tiresome; coincidentally, the other boy thuds down on the board rather hard. Interesting.

Anthony slowly gets on his feet as Harriet banishes him from the port again.

He spits blood on the already stained wood and looks her in the eyes, back straight and head held high.

„I don't need to come to the port,“ he tells her, „You'll come crawling to me sooner, you vain bitch.“

Harriet only points to the bridge with her hand and flames in her eyes; her crewmates duck away further into their futile hideaways.

Heartbeat of delay, and her anger is going to be lethal.

Thus, Anthony takes his sweet sweet time with an exaggerated curtsey and way too intense eye contact. Which Harriet is reciprocating, because of course she is.

„No one – absolutely no one – is going to the Tremaine saloon until I clear it!“ calls out Harriet as soon as Anthony rounds the corner.

Harry melodramatically sighs and hangs loose on one of the less important ropes of the ship.

She cares nothing for annoyed sighs and complaints of her crew, and Harry? Well, he has a program for tomorrow.

You see, he just found himself in a dire need of a haircut.

#disney descendants #cj hook #harry hook #harriet hook #hook siblings #anthony tremaine #swearing #tw alcohol #tw violence #toxic relationship #ginny gothel #dead beauty au

[what-ive-been-reading]

Harrow the Ninth - Tamsyn Muir

One Sentence Summary:

Lobotomized nun realizes God and his Angels suck so so much.

Did I Like It?

Yes and no. I'm probably not going to read it again for a long while because of the second person writing style. Like, I GOT IT right away and I really did like what it was immediately communicating to the reader, but god damn were the third person "flashbacks" a breath of fresh air. It was like surfacing from my own personal River.

That said, Tamsyn Muir is an expert of her craft and her voice carried me through this book. On my first reading attempt right after Gideon I actually stopped reading for months because I hated the prose. Fortunately, I just couldn't stop thinking about the juicy implications and all that angst waiting for me to crack open and slurp down like so much bone marrow. It was absolutely worth it.

If you're reading the book and you don't "get" or enjoy the second person perspective: just get through it. It'll be worth it, I promise.

This book is so good it makes me feel stupider for having read it. It's like it laid bare all my inadequacies with my own writing. This is a good thing. I think it's still distinctly Upmarket, but it sure as hell isn't Commercial. Many sections are downright Literary.

In short: if you liked Gideon, you need to read it. Simple as.

Would Another Me Have Liked It?

God, probably not? There's a 50/50 chance pretentious teenage me would have thought this was either revolutionary or pretentious. It's kind of both, and that's what makes it so good. It plays it all with a straight face.

I think 17 year old me would've put it on the same shelf as House of Leaves and The Gunslinger. Do with that what you will.

Expanded Thoughts:

THE IDEA OF THE PROSE DRIPS WITH ANGST AND CONTEXT BUT UGH

Undead bees are such a cool concept and I think that it paints what could've been a very boring and samey concept (world devouring space monsters) in a really unique way. Hive structure, colony orders, cooking vibrations, and having your mind fracture when you look at them all works SO well.

Unlike the first book, the humor landed much better this time for me. Again, I still think Gideon the Ninth was funny but sometimes it tried a little too hard. I do not feel that way about Harrow the Ninth.

Much like the first book, nothing here is surprising but that's okay. Some people I talked to about reading the book seemed shocked that I had figured so much out so instantly? Like, I do find that weird but I think it's very much a reader issue rather than a writer issue. Tamsyn Muir doesn't seek to surprise you. Tamsyn Muir hangs the Sword of Damocles above your head and occasionally gestures towards it as if to say "Eh? EHHHH???" while you worry about when it will eventually fall.

For real, just read the Dramatis Personae of these books and you'll figure out like 50% of what's happening, which makes figuring out the rest while reading easy. You have Uno. It literally comes free with your XBox.

I respect Tamsyn Muir's dedication to putting these two kids through the wringer. Honestly? I hope they never meet.

I WAS absolutely wrong about the girl in the Tomb. I thought that was going to be Nona but very clearly that is not the case. Excited to see what that's all about. Surely Harrow isn't going to do anything dangerous. She's so stable. If I came to this series when it was still a trilogy, however, I would have made the same called shot and landed exactly where I intended.

Man this series loves dinner parties. I really enjoy how characters just get to breathe for the vast majority of these books. The action scenes are great and all, but that's not why I'm here.

The book plays with death so well. Genuinely the stuff in the River might be some of the most fun I've had with a fantasy setting in an extremely long time.

When they're explaining why THEY showed up in the River, I picked up on the plan and said out loud "There is no way this stupid poem is going to show up now" but then it does and it works and it was EXTREMELY impactful. Christ what a finale. Ortus, man. What an excellent expansion for a character.

Called Shots:

Have they said it's the Earth Solar System yet? I feel like maybe they have? It's very clearly Earth, right? Did they say it in Gideon and just never bring it up again? It's nine planets, dog. You really think I'll be tricked by the First House actually being the third planet? You made the Ninth Pluto.

Who's Nona? Harrow's in the river, Gideon's where she is, and there are no other Ninth House teenagers. I think we have a real One Body Problem on our hands? Although John could probably fix that Gideon issue lickity split.

The rest of the galaxy is like, normal ass people who are under constant threat from the imperialist goths. Please this would be so funny if true.

#harrow the ninth #tlt #the locked tomb #htn #htn spoilers #gideon the ninth #harrow nonagesimus #tamsyn muir #review #necromancy #horror #action

[aeolianblues]

I'm realising of late that I am the sort of person whose favourite music and guilty pleasure songs people would not be able to distinguish from the outside, I'm the worst about it.

I like rock music, about 10 years ago you may have surmised that meant I either hated pop or felt the need to hide it. Over time, that hasn't happened, either I do openly bore of a formulaic song that is frustratingly blandly written— or just methodically mediocre and hoping for the charting/vitality without putting anything of the key artists into it (not necessarily something personal, sometimes the 'thing' in question is simply a brain...), or quite often, I just like it. I love a good pop tune. Not ashamed of that at all.

Similarly, being a rock fan, I do love a good lick! I do love a great riff or a sexy fuzzy amp tone, hell yeah. But is there music that makes me want to get up and throw a chair because I hate the artist so much? Yeah. I will openly dislike a Guns N Roses song even while singing along to the higher bits on Paradise City full-diva. And yeah I've attempted the exercise-like Sweet Child riff. I will say Slash seems a nicer person than Axl, I can't stand him and can also confirm from a friend who toured with him that it's a fucking miserable task being around that band (she suffered through the double attack of being 1) closeted gay 2) in the 90s 2.5) around fucking hair metal macho rock music cunts extraordinaire Guns N' Roses... The band would've been one short by the end of that tour were it anyone but her with the saintly patience, on account of murder. So yeah, nothing guilty there, I just openly hate them.

The thing that people couldn't tell the difference between is some of the indie music I love and the indie music I hate— sort of. I do like some cool alternative. Love me some smart indie. I'm post punk all the way. You want to be pretentious and read poetry to terse music, go for it. I adore it.

But then there's some indie, which sounds almost the exact same to the ear that doesn't look for the stories behind the artists, that I cannot stand, but in reality am really coming to like. I think I am irritated by the entire concept of the Strokes, but I do feel so cool walking downtown with the Is This It album in my ears. Cannot stand the way they're called these sort of fathers of 00s indie. That 00s NYC scene were largely annoying rich college kids who happened to make okay art during maybe the last 3 years that anyone could truly afford to be an artist in New York City (what some have described as the years just before the Giuliani NYC reforms that made it impossible to earn a living as an artist there. A part time restaurant chef now in NYC will simply not have the wages and subsequently time to be in a rock band that much. The gentrification hit music Hard, they say. I'm not a New Yorker but yeah. Same concept in Toronto).

But despite all this—and most importantly, this belief I have that if I were a classmate or housemate of many of these guys during the early 00s, I'd have hated their arrogance. Can't forget that belief I somehow have—I do still really enjoy quite a few of that period's bands.

(The New Abnormal was Not a better album than A Hero's Death though. I am still sour about that.)

Then there are some really, really naff indie bands from the 00s in the UK too, in theory I've got no time for them. I didn't quite vibe with them at 16. I also genuinely do not want to like e.g. The Maccabees. I still have some ego! I still have some pride left in me. But put on Dreaming Of You by The Coral and I'm on my toes dancing. Shoulders shaking at a desk. I'll vibe along to some really naff pop rock indie too. I just don't want to vibe to the Vaccines. Don't let me near that stuff.

But who on the outside of this nuance can really tell the difference between Wet Leg (beloved) and The Maccabees?

At least I'll never be a Courteeners fan.

#music thoughts #chitter chatter #Music #My hater game is blind; I have no real basis for hating Courteeners. I just don't want to ever be known as A Courteeners fan. #I don't think that's my vibe; I'm not 'lads lads lads!' #First Love by The Maccabees isn't too bad though; but to me they're just a less talented Bloc Party rip off. #That song is literally Helicopter #And Bloc Party did it better #Hater hour #Good luck to Orlando Weeks on his solo album though

[queen--kenobi]

Tyland and Elayna are rapidly becoming a ship I'm obsessed with. Pls shower me in canonverse head canons for them

Yes. Yeeeeeessssssss

Okay so! Some fun canon facts:

Tyland didn't initially have the intention of marrying Elayna! In my head Tyland is bi so like. He kinda figured they could act as each other's cover once he saw her with fem!Aemond and how the two of them interacted. Yes this does mean when they're at each other throats it's mlm and wlw hostility that turns into mlm and wlw solidarity

Elayna and Tyland cannot be together in the same room as Otto. Only one or the other, not both. Mostly because both of them find Otto pretentious, and they will be exchanging looks when Otto says something they think is stupid. Tyland has a little more respect for Otto than Elayna does, but. Not much

Speaking of looks. Since neither of them is big on pda, they've gotten very good at communicating with just a look. Literally they can have conversations by just lifting an eyebrow. Elayna tries to make it a game and see if she can't hold an actual conversation with someone while communicating with Tyland exclusively via facial expressions

Jason hates this btw. Partially because it means someone knows his twin better than him (like that's hard to do) and partially because he's only getting Tyland’s side of the conversation

Tyland’s approach to get Elayna to warm up to him was very much like when you try to get a feral cat to warm up to you. He would steadily start showing up in places she was, and once she got used to his presence he invited her to have lunch with him, which turned into a regular thing

Most of their dates either occur in the library or in the gardens. When they're in the gardens they talk, and a lot of their good ideas come from those long walks where they bounce ideas off each other

Tyland will never admit it but the first time Elayna defended him in front of someone? Hot. And it's not even like the person was particularly nasty, they just asked Elayna why she speaks to him because he seems boring. Elayna didn't tear into the person like she wanted to, but she was Firm so. No one ever asked again

Elayna hasn't necessarily seen/heard Tyland defend her but like. She know he has. He just does it in very subtle ways that like. Unless you know what you're looking for, you're not going to figure out it was Tyland. And Elayna does know what to look out for

Obviously the biggest point of contention in their relationship is Tyland’s family. Not just because Elayna literally hates all of them except for him and Johanna for very valid reasons but also because Tymon, Jason and Tyland’s youngest brother, basically decided he was going to marry Elayna and has not backed down. It's very tense because of this

Tbh there's absolutely a power struggle when it comes to who makes the first move when they realize they're into each other. Because Tyland kinda wants to see if Elayna will crack first but Elayna is determined that Tyland should finally do something himself if he wants her and not manipulate her into making the first move

Both of them absolutely lose their minds when they each have their "oh shit they know me better than anyone else" moments

It's never said outright but like. There's this quiet understanding the plan is for them to stay in KL and not go back to Casterly Rock unless something major changes. And it's for a variety of reasons, not just Elayna not wanting to go back. Like their lives are too tied up in KL, and like. I think they both probably come to the conclusion their kids wouldn't necessarily be better off growing up at the Rock, yk? They could put their kids in an excellent position if they start with them being friends with the Targ kids from a young age

#oc: elayna reyne #AAAAAA TY SO MUCH!!!!!! #Tyland Lannister x OFC

[amirisqueer]

OLD 2020 ART

A silly AU I made a couple years ago. I still think it's kind of fun. Here is the original description:

"So, first off, this is going to be pretty loose concepts for a Warriors AU I had in mind. I need to work on personal projects at the moment, so I won't go too into detail with this. Additionally, I should have reread Power of Three and Omen of the Stars before this, to make it more detailed and accurate, but again, I need to work on personal projects.

I may come back to this when I have time for it. As for now, it'll stay pretty loose. Unless some of you want to mess around with the concepts, and I fully welcome you to do so! It'd be really cool to have a bunch of people putting their ideas into this, and making it a community thing!

I've removed anything to do with Rock, the ancients, the stick, and the Tribe, because they're all pointless and irrelevant to the plot, and contribute nothing to the story. The undergroud tunnels remain, but they're left a mystery.

Anyway. On with the villainy.

PoT and OotS were disappointing, to say the least. PoT had a good build up, and had tons of potential, but, as usual, the Erins wasted it. OotS is a hot mess; like PoT, potential was wasted, the plot meanders, there are far too many inconsistencies and plot holes, character motivations are weird, characters are unlikeable and boring, a ton of important points in the story feel really contrived, and it's poorly written over all. I still enjoyed these arcs, though, just for how bad they were.

I think it would have been really cool if the Erins explored the potential for villainy Jayfeather and Hollyleaf had. Jayfeather expresses quite a bit of resentment and disrespect for Starclan, and seems to feel like he's above everyone else bc he's part of a prophecy (one that really never is used or explored meaningfully). He's also pretty interested in plants that harm people, which is unique for a medicine cat.

Hollyleaf is a stickler to the warrior code, though we see her twist it and her logic to fit what she wants, especially when she goes out of her way to murder Ashfur, and threaten Leafpool. She's also shown to be very ambitious, and wants to be leader one day. She wants to be important to her clan, and be respected.

Lionblaze, in this AU, is a lot softer, and much more caring and gentle. While he does want to be a great warrior, he doesn't enjoy fighting, which makes his power a point of angst for him, since it's one that enables him to hurt other cats without any physical consequences to him. Lionblaze in the books always stuck out to me as particularly bland; he was just another cat who wanted to be the greatest warrior, who loved fighting, and was aggressive. I want a soft, gentle hero. I want a hero who can and will fight for what he believes in, but would much rather take a pacifistic route.

Again, I need to reread PoT and OotS to refresh myself, but bear with me.

What if we explored this in a way that made Jayfeather and Hollyleaf villains? These traits certainly make it easy.

What if Jayfeather grew especially resentful of Starclan, and, upon learning of the prophecy and how much power he held, turned against them? After all, Starclan gets increasingly annoying, petty, and downright irritating as the series goes on. They act as though they know more than the living cats do (which they don't, and this is shown multiple times), and instead of actually doing anything to help the clans, they give vague omens and signs that could easily be interpreted as anything!

So Jayfeather, resentful of Starclan, plots against them. He wants them to hurt. He wants them to admit they're no better than anyone else. He wants them to stop being so pretentious and full of themselves. He also hates Starclan for making him blind, and, like he said in The Sight, he wishes he had never been born because of it. Jayfeather's bitter and vindictive nature is explored a ton here.

He comes up with a plan to wrest the clans from Starclan's control. He wants everyone else to resent them, too, so Starclan will lose what power they have over the living cats. And to do that, he'll need to take over clans and spread his ideology, much like Sol.

Meanwhile, Hollyleaf wants to be leader, as mentioned before. And Jayfeather sees this as an opportunity. He's the mastermind behind all this, as the most intelligent of the three; he's the one pulling the strings.

By the way, Hollyleaf has a power in this AU. Her power comes from her dedication to and belief in the warrior code; she can always tell when cats are lying, and when they have broken the code, as well as convince them to believe in her own convictions, too. The more she believes in an idea, the more easily she can persuade cats to take her side, and believe in her version of the truth.

And so Jayfeather uses her. Throughout the books, he'll help her become deputy, and then leader, by strategically poisoning clanmates (as well as cats from other clans) to help her gain power. He's also making up visions, too, and manipulating clan politics, trying to turn them against Starclan that way, too. He tells Hollyleaf the things he reads in other cats' minds to help her find weaknesses to exploit.

Hollyleaf believes that what she's doing is right, and that she's fulfilling the prophecy, and making Thunderclan strong. In reality, she's simply carrying out Jayfeather's attack on Starclan.

Lionblaze, meanwhile, is blissfully unaware of this. He does what he does best; fight and try to be a good warrior. The best he can be, in fact. While Lionblaze isn't very intelligent, Jayfeather is wary of trying to involve him, because Lionblaze is a genuinely kind hearted cat, whereas Hollyleaf isn't.

Also! Throughout the PoT arc, there are tons of bonding moments between the three; for Jayfeather, it's all manipulation, but for Hollyleaf and Lionblaze, it's genuine. I've always been irritated by how Warriors never actually shows bonds between families and friends; the books just usually go "they were friends" or "they were family" and that's it. It makes all the family/friend deaths so unemotional and contrived when they happen, because the bonds are never explored. I don't care that Feathertail died; you never showed me the relationship she and Crowfeather had. His grief feels fake, and I'm not invested, at all.

In addition to this, friendships between the protagonists and side characters are also more deeply explored. For example, Hollyleaf and Cinderheart would have a very deep, loving friendship, and Lionblaze and Berrynose would have a friendly rivalry, but are also there for each other. Lionblaze also deeply cares for his family, and loves his siblings, Brambleclaw, Squirrelflight, Firestar, Sandstorm, and Leafpool dearly. Hollyleaf is close with her mother and father too, of course, but not quite as close as Lionblaze. Jayfeather is too wrapped up in his hatred and fantasies of revenge to really bother with friendship or family, and thus is viewed as even more prickly by his clanmates.

Jayfeather makes sure to make Hollyleaf look like an excellent warrior and leader, helping her find opportunities to do so. He encourages her to use her power to persuade Firestar to give her an apprentice, so she could be made deputy, and it works. Eventually, she'll use this power on Firestar to convince him to make her deputy after Brambleclaw dies.

Also! In chapters from Jayfeather's POV, it's shown that he grows to hate himself, too, for his actions. He knows very well what he's doing is wrong, but he keeps doing it. He feels horrible for using Hollyleaf the way he does, and feels slimy and gross about it. He thinks he's too far gone, that there's no hope for him. So he keeps making things worse and worse, and hates himself every second of it.

This only serves to make him more bitter and resentful, and he lashes out at clanmates even more, taking out his anger and other mixed emotions on them. It's pretty clear he's developed some sort of depression. At this point, it's obvious that revenge on Starclan won't make Jayfeather happy, at all. But that's what keeps him going.

Eventually, Sol comes along, and Jayfeather sees him as an ally; after all, he's trying to dismantle the clans' belief in Starclan, too. With Sol, he helps spread disbelief and strife, leading to Shadowclan being reduced to the state it was in. Thunderclan is following lead, though a bit more slowly, because, annoyingly, Firestar and Brambleclaw are still there.

So Jayfeather sneakily poisons him, without any cat in the clan knowing. He, of course, does this after Firestar has taken a liking to Hollyleaf, and during his grief, Hollyleaf goes and consoles him, as well as giving him advice on who the new deputy should be, strongly hinting that she thought she would do a good job, by stating traits that she has, and that Firestar has seen in her.

So! She becomes deputy! Lionblaze is, of course, proud, but he's a bit unnerved by the fact that Jayfeather and Hollyleaf don't seem bothered by their father's death. The fire scene happens at some point, and they learn about Squirrelflight's lie. Ashfur is still killed by Hollyleaf to keep the secret. And this time, she doesn't spill it.

Sol is also eventually killed off, because when Jayfeather realizes he's also trying to destroy the clans, not just ruin their belief in Starclan, which isn't what he wants. He doesn't want Starclan or the clans to die; he wants Starclan to suffer. So, he comes up with a plan to kill Sol, and Hollyleaf executes it.

At this point, Hollyleaf too is becoming resentful of Starclan, and twists her version of the code to fit with that, silently vowing to enforce it when she becomes leader.

Thunderclan is starting to grow really angry with Starclan, due to Jayfeather's and Sol's influence. Firestar continues to have faith in them, and the clan slowly turns on him, seeing him as a weak and incompetent leader. Other unfortunate things start to happen as well, like prey being scarce in greenleaf, warriors being injured more, fights on the borders breaking out, etc. It should be noted that Hollyleaf also uses her power to help convince the clan of Jayfeather's beliefs, and it works really well, seeing as she believes them herself. The majority of clan starts to believe that Starclan has abandoned them.

But not all of them, which is key to the rest of this AU!

Hollyleaf believes this too, and believes that the clan would do far better being lead by her. She speaks with Jayfeather about this, and, of course, he's pleased by it. They hatch a scheme to kill Firestar in secret, using a lethal concoction of herbs and framing it as a sickness.

Also! As Jayfeather's ideology spreads, other medicine cats' connection to Starclan grows weaker and weaker, until, finally, at the end of the PoT arc, they cannot communicate with Starclan at all. Only Jayfeather can, as that's one of his powers.

Once Starclan is entirely cut off from the clans, Cinderpelt's spirit (in Cinderheart) is released; her link to Starclan has been severed, so the whole reincarnation sort of thing no longer works. Cinderpelt is instead stranded in some sort of limbo, and never finds her way back to Starclan.

However, Leafpool has noticed Jayfeather's interest in toxic plants, and grows suspicious of him... so she must be killed, too. While gathering herbs with Jayfeather, Hollyleaf ambushes Leafpool and kills her. Jayfeather has Hollyleaf injure him, too, so he can frame it as an accident with some rogues, which he just barely got away from. Hollyleaf is never mentioned in his explanation, so she's completely free of suspicion.

Two of the three never learn of their true parentage, and only Lionblaze ever really cares about it, because of his deep connection with his parents, grandparents, and aunt. Lionblaze later learns about it from Squirrelflight.

With Leafpool out of the way, they can finally kill Firestar. Jayfeather slips deathberry juice into some of Firestar's fresh kill, and, when the leader is unconscious and in the medicine den, Jayfeather poisons him with more and more herbs (like foxglove, water hemlock, deadly nightshade, etc), which prove powerful enough to kill all his remaining lives.

The clan doesn't suspect a thing, and grieves for him, despite his weak leadership. This further reinforces the belief that Starclan has abandoned them.

Hollyleaf becomes Hollystar. And, despite everything she's done, she gets her nine lives. This is because, since Hollystar and Jayfeather are part of the proohecy, and supposedly hold the power of the stars in their paws, they can force them to give her nine lives. Especially with Hollystar's power of conviction.

I'm not sure who her deputy would be, but it would have to be someone incredibly loyal to her. Perhaps Cinderheart, seeing as they were close friends. Maybe they even get to be a cute, villainous lesbian couple. You know what, they do. CinderHolly is canon in this AU.

However, Lionblaze notices how unbothered Jayfeather and Hollystar are by Firestar's death, and starts to suspect the worst. He has kept his faith in Starclan, by the way, despite his siblings' attempts to sway him. He has also gathered a small group of the clan together who still believe in Starclan, and they worship in secret at night, outside the camp. This group, critically, includes Whitewing and Birchfall, Dovewing and Ivypool's parents. It also includes Squirrelflight and Sandstorm, who were, of course, incredibly loyal to Firestar.

With Hollystar in her leadership position, and a blindly loyal deputy and mate are her side, she pushes her anti-Starclan agenda, and actually forges an alliance with Shadowclan and Blackstar. They promise to help each other in the coming days, seeing as Starclan has left the clans, and they can only depend on each other.

Windclan and Riverclan are horrified, especially the medicine cats (except Mothwing, she actually sees this as wise), but through Hollystar's conviction, these ideals infiltrate the other two clans. Each clan splits into factions: those who have faith, and those who do not. Consistently, the latter groups are larger.

Lionblaze is incredibly upset by this, and is torn between his love for his siblings, his care for his clan, and his faith to Starclan. Hollystar starts to weed out the disloyal cats, the ones who still have faith in Starclan, and makes them sleep in a separate den from the other cats. She keeps a close eye on them, and monitors their movements at all times, with the help of Cinderheart, Jayfeather, and a few other extremely loyal warriors.

One evening, Lionblaze manages to sneak out from under the gaze of his clanmates, and eavesdrops on a conversation between Hollystar and Jayfeather. He learns of their manipulation, and how they killed Brambleclaw, Leafpool, and Firestar, and, in fury, attacks Hollystar. This grabs the whole clan's attention, and during the battle, Hollystar loses a life.

Lionblaze, being the big hearted cat he is, stops fighting once his sister dies once, horrified at what he's done. However, the clan has turned against him, and he, as well as the other Starclan faithful, are driven out of Thunderclan territory. Hollystar has convinced Thunderclan that any Starclan faithful cats are dangerous traitors, and, at the next gathering, encourages the other clans to drive them out, too.

Lionblaze and his group, meanwhile, shelter beyond Thunderclan territory, and Dovekit and Ivykit are born. They slowly recover their strength, and set up a sort of temporary camp. Lionblaze tells them about Hollystar and Jayfeather's treachery. All the cats are bereft, and have no idea what to do. Soon enough, though, a group of Shadowclan cats find them, and reveal they've been driven away, too. The clans by the lake have all lost cats, and they are weaker now, which is critical for OotS. This is where the PoT arc ends.

Hollystar's regime is as strong as ever in Thunderclan, and the rest of the Starclan faithful cats in the clans have been driven out. The Dark Forest sees this as an opportunity to take advantage of, and starts recruiting warriors and apprentices to their cause to destroy/take over the clans, or whatever the DF was trying to do. Like. Seriously. What exactly were they trying to accomplish?

We'll just go with destroying the clans, due to their festering, bitter hatred for Starclan, and how the clans wronged them in their past lives.

Starclan is completely cut off from the clans, except for Lionblaze's group, which has become its own sort of clan. Each of the groups of Starclan faithful have found their way to him, and they live an unsteady, unsatisfying life outside the clan territories. They want to go home. They want their clans back. But if they dared set paw at the lake territories again, they'd be killed.

Enter Dovepaw and Ivypaw. Despite not really being a clan, the group has still continued clan traditions, and Dovepaw is apprenticed to Willowshine, while Ivypaw gets Brightheart. For extra drama, Brightheart and Cloudtail were split over the Starclan debate, and Cloudtail remains with Hollystar.

In this group, there's a lot of quarreling over who's in charge, as they don't really have a leader. They eventually agree to have a small council of four cats, one from each clan, to lead them. Lionblaze, Tawnypelt, Heathertail, and Mistyfoot are the leaders of this group, and they are trying to form a plan to take the clans back. Tawnypelt was also able to convince Tigerheart to remain faithful to Starclan, so he's here, too.

Squirrelflight, in a soft, emotional scene, reveals the three's parentage to Lionblaze. Instead of driving them apart, this makes them grow even closer, as they both understand what it's like to care for their siblings deeply, even when they've done something wrong.

The fourth cat from the prophecy remains, and it's Dovepaw. She doesn't have any powers, and yet she'll be key to turning the clans back to Starclan. During their time spent as a group, the borders between the clans here dissolve, and they become united and strong.

Dovepaw is actually trained as a medicine cat here, and is the only one in the group who can connect to Starclan. Her faith is particularly strong, given how her life began with being driven out of her home. This is how the connection between the clans and Starclan is slowly restored.

Meanwhile, in the clans, as the year progresses, things get worse. The draught happens like before, and a patrol is sent upstream to investigate the cause, like before. Leopardstar dies, and someone replaces her; possibly Reedwhisker. Perhaps he didn't go with his mother, and remained with Riverclan. This could be a source of grief for Mistyfoot, and affect her actions in the rest of the arc. Reedstar it is, then.

The DF keeps training and corrupting warriors in the clans, and as the arc goes on, some of them start to fear that Hollystar was wrong, and that they should've stayed faithful to Starclan. Of course, no one says this; anyone who speaks like that is immediately exiled.

Hollystar practically controls all the clans, given her power. Her propaganda has taken hold of the leaders' minds, and they all follow her suggestions. Jayfeather is both happy and dissatisfied at the same time; he is glad Starclan is suffering, and frequently visits them to gloat, but he feels that something is wrong. He isn't truly happy. He's still bitter cold and angry inside.

If I'm being honest, I barely remember what happened in OotS between the first and last books. The whole arc was a disaster, and, like I said, its plot was boring and meandering. I apologize for the stark lack of detail in this part. Like I said though, this is just a loose concept for this AU, and anyone can add their ideas to it, if they want!

Essentially, in the end, there are 3 factions fighting: the Starclan faithful, Hollystar's clans, and the Dark Forest. Jayfeather, once he learns what the DF is up to, is upset about it, and opposes it, simply because he doesn't want the clans destroyed, he just wants Starclan to suffer, and have them watch helplessly as the clans live perfectly well without them.

Lionblaze and his faction also, through the arc, spy on what the clans are doing, and learn how things are slowly falling apart. This isn't so much due to the lack of Starclan, but due to the Dark Forest taking advantage of that lack of faith. Had the DF not been an issue, the clans would have made it perfectly fine through that period of drought, and lived well w/o Starclan's influence.

Ivypool is also recruited into the DF like usual, but this time, she immediately knows something is up, bc of Lionblaze and the rest of the group having such firm faith in Starclan, and passing that onto the kits. However, since Ivypool is smart, she decides to spy there, along with Tigerheart, which give the Faithful an advantage. There, they finally have a name: the Faithful.

Hollystar's clans eventually learn of the threat from the DF, and things devolve into panic. Hollystar and Jayfeather are losing control, and both the DF and the Faithful take advantage of this.

Dovewing is especially gifted with speech in the AU, and is really compassionate and dedicated to what she believes in. She rallies a good portion of Hollystar's clans to the Faithful, and their numbers grow steadily. She is, in a way, like a cleric in DnD, and Lionblaze is a paladin. Dovewing does most of the speaking, while Lionblaze does most of the fighting.

Then, the battle breaks out. It's DF vs the Faithful vs Hollystar's clans. Like the Great Battle in the other books, this battle is chaotic, takes place all over the clan territory, and a ton of cats die. Hollystar and Lionblaze have an intense encounter, and Lionblaze pleads her to see sense and join their side. However, she is too far gone, and too convinced of her own flawed beliefs to listen. Hollystar is killed by Lionblaze in an emotional battle, and Jayfeather is eventually cornered, too.

Lionblaze also pleads with him to switch sides, and it is here that Jayfeather finally reveals what he's been doing all along, and has his traditional villain monologue. At the end of his monologue, he admits that he isn't happy with how things turned out, and feels hollow, numb, and bitter cold instead.

Jayfeather loathed himself as much as he loathed Starclan. He knew his actions were wrong, and hated himself for it, but he couldn't stop himself. He wouldn't. From his first kill onwards, he thought it was too late for him to change paths, that he'd always be a despicable, miserable cat. He sees no chance at redemption, and asks Lionblaze to kill him. When he won't, Jayfeather eats the deathberries he had kept with him, killing himself.

In the end, the Faithful are victorious, and take back the clans. Lionblaze, however, is completely devastated by all the loss. He had lost family and friends during all of this, and feels utterly swamped by grief. The loss of his siblings hurts the most; not only had he lost them to death, but he had really, truly LOST them; their personalities had completely changed, and the cats he once knew had vanished.

Despite this, he pushes through with Dovewing and Squirrelflight's help. Lionblaze becomes Lionstar, at the urging of his clanmates. He names Squirrelflight deputy, and Dovewing is his medicine cat. The clans are recovering from Hollystar's reign, and are turning back towards Starclan, for better or for worse. Either way, their faith has only strengthened during this time, and once again, the medicine cats can connect with their ancestors.

So! That's it! That's the villain Hollystar and Jayfeather AU! In my opinion, this is MUCH better than how things actually went in the books, and I would have rather had things go this way. Potential isn't wasted (as far as I know), and each of the three is more fully explored.

The OotS part is definitely lacking, because like I said, I've forgotten what happens through most of it. Lionblaze also gets a bit shafted, because I wanted to focus on Jayfeather and Hollystar, and also because I don't know his personality as well. I really wish I had given him more content, but my pool of ideas was a bit shallow for him :'D. If any of you have any ideas for him, or for the rest of the AU, please feel free to share them!!

I may come back to this in the future, after I've reread PoT and OotS, and add more details. For now, though, it is this.

Let me know what you guys think! I'd love to hear your ideas, too, like I've said a billion times before! As I've said many times earlier, I think it'd be really cool if you all contributed too, and we made this a community thing!"

#hollystar #hollyleaf #evil au #au #alternate universe #thunderclan #lionblaze #jayfeather #cinderheart #dovewing #ivypool #power of three #omen of the stars #windclan #dark forest #starclan #scene #illustration #forest #Villain #Evil #Villain au #Warriors #Warrior cats #Kitty #Cat #Cats #Amirisqueer #Art #Digital art

[randomvarious]

Today’s mix:

Tech House Phenomena 3 by Dave Mothersole 1999 Tech-House

Gonna quote legendary electronic music opinion-haver Ishkur at length here in order to kick off this post, because he and I seem to be of the same mind when it comes to the mostly bad phenomenon that is tech-house music:

Somehow by incorporating the strengths of both Techno and House, Tech House succeeded in appealing to neither. So the result is something frustratingly banal and monotonous when it really shouldn't be...

Tech House straddles the razor-thin tightrope of something that doesn't have enough funky warmth for House yet not enough cold mechanicalism for Techno, so what comes out instead is something stiff, repetitive, and boring. It's such a disappointment, like the last season of Game of Thrones.

Tech House had real promise. It could have done great things with the tools it had. And it's something everyone hoped would happen, like feeding Scrabble tiles to a dog to see if it shits out a word. But instead Tech House wasted its potential on pretentious Berlin nightclubs and that aimless, meandering noodlyness that the Brits are fond of, like a 70s prog rock solo that goes on for way too long. Technically interesting but utterly soulless...

Tech House can be good. There is honestly good Tech House out there. I've even heard some. But finding it is a Herculian task of Sisyphian anguish in a Kafka-esque, Orwellian realm of Dostoevskian torment. It is possible to load up your music player with nothing but Tech House mixes, hop into your car, and drive to the other end of the continent and back and never hear the same song twice yet never hear an interesting song once. The odds of coming across decent Tech House are worse than needles made of diamonds in a rough full of haystacks.

So, a big yes to pretty much all of that. I'm always willing to give tech-house (and all genres, for that matter) a chance, but I usually end up being bored by it in the end, and this ephemeral 1999 mix from veteran UK DJ Dave Mothersole as part of London label Eukahouse’s Tech House Phenomena series is no exception. It's just always basically moderately interesting backbeats with nothing melodically interesting going on on top. Somehow, this CD has a 4.2 rating on Discogs though, which is pretty high, so while Ishkur says this music's appealing to no one, there are people who seem to actually really enjoy it. But I don't think I'll ever understand why, personally.

That said, there are a few rare occasions on this album when the music's good: San Jose, California's E.B.E. has a track that I've loved for a while now called "Distraught," and it's this dubby, electro-splattery groove that has no two bars on it that sound exactly alike. So, for a dance genre that's typically stifled by monotony, this one seems to stand out from the rest.

And the closer, "Luv Talking," from London's Pure Science, is pretty great too. It's something of an infectious party groove that already comes equipped with sampled bits of recorded revelers itself, so it sort of just has this naturally inviting post-disco house essence to it. And it appears to be exclusive to this mix too, besides its appearance on a 12-inch that's also called Tech House Phenomena 3 that was most likely released as a teaser for this mix.

So, if you'd like to hear that song in particular, or you're brave enough to admit that you actually love tech-house, you can message me for this mix, because I unfortunately am unable to find any kind of link for it.

And go check out Ishkur’s Guide to Electronic Music too. His website is a uniquely indispensable resource for learning about electronic music and the histories and sonic characteristics of its many niche genres. His depth of knowledge on the subject is incredibly vast, and his genre explainers are witty, funny, and insightful. Plus, the playlists he puts together for each genre are really good too, especially for the genres he enjoys, which seem to be a lot of them. I’m a really big fan of his work and his writings have definitely played a role in helping me develop my own eclectic and nuanced tastes in electronic music. Without him, this silly music blog I have probably would never exist 🥺.

Highlights:

E.B.E. - "Distraught" Bryan Zentz - "Binary Ritual" Pure Science - "Luv Talking"

#tech house #house #house music #dance #dance music #electronic #electronic music #music #90s #90s music #90's #90's music