#Proposal Configuration

[lonestarflight]

Concept art of Space Shuttle (Proposal Configuration) launching an early version of the Hubble Space Telescope (KH-11).

Date: 1972

SDASM Archives: 10_0011696

[seat-safety-switch]

Everyone now is super excited to use their 3D printers. With this magical new piece of science-fiction, you too can produce the exact wad of plastic you need to solve a problem. Need a tube, but at a weird angle in order to connect it to another tube? It's just six hours away, baby, unless something goes wrong and you have to get a new extruder shipped. House full of plastic pieces that are worthless because you fucked up basic measuring on them? Print a bin to put them in until you have a wobbly table to level out.

Now, don't think I'm down on this new technology. Like many hobbyists, I cherish any new power that lets me pretend to be a 1980s comic book villain. I love to be able to make, with just a thought, the exact piece of extruded microplastics that I need to hold my garbage-picked trash parts together in a new configuration. Whether or not this combination of parts ever should have existed is a matter for the philosophers.

Naturally, I don't have a 3D printer, because they cost money and require electricity, neither of which I have. Instead of this, I go on the internet and complain bitterly that certain things are impossible to make. Then, I wait until some nerds get mad and make those things just to shut me up. At this point – and this is critical – I do not shut up. I go and take my new headlight bracket, or fancy mirror-alignment clip, or replacement molar, and I complain about it endlessly. "It could be smoother," I say. Maybe their printer sucks, I propose. This usually gets me a couple more spite projects, until they are driven into the insane asylum by my endless requests for useless gewgaws.

Yes indeed: the democratized future of at-home manufacturing is finally here. Used to be, cranks like myself would have to phone a machine shop and get the old guy working the mill super angry before he would spitefully bang out a 20-hour piece of magic. Now, you have thousands of weird nerds to pick from, and all of them available for just the cost of a library card and a throwaway forum account.

[makairodonx]

Coming right around the Chinese New Year, top to bottom, are two highly scientifically-important dinosaurs hailing from the Aptian-aged (125-118 mya) Jiufotang Formation of China’s Liaoning Province:

Microraptor zhaoianus ranks alongside the late Jurassic Archaeopteryx and the closely-related Sinornithosaurus as one of the first theropod dinosaurs ever to have discovered with full feather and wing impressions. It measured about 80 cm (2.6ft) in length, had a wingspan of 99 cm (3.25 ft) and weighed about 1.25-1.88 kg, sported a uniquely black but iridescent plumage, and is the namesake of the Microraptoridae, a family of raven-sized dromaeosaurs that dominated the Jehol Biota of the Jiufotang and Yixian Formations and are particularly famous for sporting long flight feathers on both their legs and limbs. This “four-winged” configuration, which surprisingly resembles the hypothetical “Tetrapteryx” stage of bird evolution proposed by naturalist William Beebe in 1915, enabled Microraptor and its kin to glide from tree to tree in pursuit of small birds, lizards and mammals as well as achieving some sort of powered flight over short distances.

Psittacosaurus is a basal ceratopsian that is closer in phylogeny to creatures like Styracosaurus and Triceratops than to the more primitive Yinlong from the late Jurassic, and is one of the most well-preserved and best-studied genera of all non-avian dinosaurs. It reached the size of a pig or a retriever dog and lived throughout much of continental Eastern Asia 125-105 million years ago, and is known for having the most species described of any non-avian dinosaur, with 12 different species ranging from as far north as Siberia to as far south as Thailand. Two of these species were both found in the Jiufotang Formation - P.melieyingensis and P.mongoliensis, the type species which measured up to 2 meters (6.2 ft) long and weighed about 80 kg (44 lb). Psittacosaurus had highly-developed senses of smell and vision, a pair of protruding jugal (cheek) bones that were possibly used for display, and was active for short periods at day or night. Psittacosaurus also possessed self-sharpening teeth that were used for cropping and slicing tough plants, and unlike future ceratopsians, it lacked teeth for chewing and grinding food and thus used gastroliths (which would have been stored in a gizzard similar to those of modern birds) to wear down the leaves and bark that it ate as it passed through the digestive system. Psittacosaurus is also unique among ceratopsians for having a large, well-proportioned brain. This indicates that the dinosaur was capable of doing a wide range of complex social behaviors such as bird-like sleeping, nest-building and parental care. This is perhaps true with possible instances of overburdened Psittacosaurus parents brining in a nanny or another guardian to take care of large nests of more than a dozen hatchlings, as evidenced of fossils of adolescent females preserved with several hatchlings together. The Psittacosaurus of the Jiufotang Formation shared their temperate forest habitat with the basal ankylosaur Chuanqilong, several genera and species of paravians and pterosaurs, a large titanosaur, and the 10-meter-long Yutyrannus relative Sinotyrannus, and Psittacosaur hatchlings and occasionally adults were also preyed upon by the large, badger-like mammal Repenomamus. One fossil Psittacosaurus specimen that is on display at a German museum (SMF R 4970) preserves the scales, colors and integument that the living animal would have had, and they indicate that the particular Psittacosaurus had a counter-shaded reddish brown and beige pattern that was blurrier and less-defined compared to the striking orange-and-white colors of Sinosauropteryx (which was suited for a lifestyle of foraging in open areas) and was therefore useful for camouflaging the Psittacosaurus in the woods. The specimen also possessed a strange crest of yellow, keratinized, bristle-like structures protruding from the base of its tail that were quite similar to the thin, filamentous structures found on the heterodontosaurid Tianyulong, which also possibly indicates that feather-like structures or proto-feathers may have appeared early in the evolutionary history of the dinosaurs and were soon lost in the evolution of some dinosaur groups or retained in some form in the evolution of others.

[noaestheticacademic]

On the Identity of "Chat"

Like all the linguistics folks on Tumblr, I've been sent the "chat is a fourth person pronoun" post by a bunch of well-meaning people and and I've been thinking waaay too much about it. @hbmmaster made a wonderful post explaining exactly why "chat" ISN'T a fourth person pronoun, and after reading it I wanted to go a little deeper on what it might actually be doing linguistically, because it is a really interesting phenomenon. Here's a little proposal on what might be going on, with the caveat that it's not backed up by a sociolinguistic survey (which would be fun but more than I could throw together this morning).

On Pronouns

Studying linguistics has been really beneficial for me because understanding that language is constantly changing helped me to become comfortable with using they/them pronouns for myself. I've since done a decent amount of work with pronouns, and here are some basic ideas.

A basic substitution test shows that "chat" is not syntactically a pronoun: it can't be replaced with a pronoun in a sentence.

"Chat, what do we think about that?"

"He*, what do we think about that?" (* = ungrammatical, a native speaker of English would think it sounds wrong)

Linguists identify pronouns as bundles of features identifying the speaker, addressee, and/or someone outside the current discourse. So, a first person pronoun refers to the speaker, a second person pronoun refers to the addressee, and a third person pronoun refers to someone who is neither the speaker nor the addressee (but who is still known to the speaker and addressee). This configuration doesn't leave a lot of room for a "fourth" person. But the intuition people have that "chat" refers to something external to the discourse is worth exploring.

Hypothesis 1: Chat is a fourth-person pronoun.

We've knocked this one right out.

Hypothesis 2: Chat is an address term.

So what's an address term? These are words like "dude, bro, girl, sir" that we use to talk to people. In the original context where "chat" appears - streamers addressing their viewers - it is absolutely an address term. We can easily replace "chat" with any of these address terms in the example sentence above. It's clear that the speaker is referring to a specific group (viewers) who are observing and commenting on (but not fully participating in) the discourse of the stream. The distinction between OBSERVATION and PARTICIPATION is a secret tool that will come in handy later.

But when a student in a classroom says "wow chat, I hate this," is that student referring to their peers as a chat? In other words, is the student expecting any sort of participation or observation by the other students of their utterance? Could "chat" be replaced with "guys" in this instance and retain its nuance? My intuition as a zillenial (which could be way off, please drop your intuitions in the comments) is that the relationship between a streamer and chat is not exactly what the speaker in this case expects out of their peers. Which brings me to...

Hypothesis 3: chat is a stylistic index.

What's an index in linguistics? To put it very simply, it's anything that has acquired a social meaning based on the context in which it's said. In its original streaming context, it's an address term. But it can be used in contexts where there is not a chat, or even any group of people that could be abstracted into being a chat. Instead, people use this linguistic structure to explicitly mimic the style which streamers use.

And that much seems obvious, right? Of course people are mimicking streamers. It doesn't take a graduate degree to figure that out. What's interesting to me is why people choose to employ streaming language in certain scenarios. How is it different from the same sentence, minus the streamer style?

This all comes down to the indexicality, or social meaning, of streamer speak. This is where I ask you all to take over: what sorts of attitudes and qualities do you associate with that kind of person and that kind of speech? I think it has to do with (here it comes!) the PARTICIPANT/OBSERVER distinction. By framing speech as having observers, a speaker takes on the persona of someone who is observed - a self-styled celebrity. To use "chat" is to position oneself as a celebrity, and in some cases even to mock the notion of such a position. We can see a logical path from how streamers use "chat" as an address term to how it is co-opted to reference streamer culture and that celebrity/observer relationship in non-streaming mediated discourse. If we think about it that way, then it's easy to see why the "fourth person pronoun" post is so appealing. It highlights a discourse relationship that is being invoked wherein "chat" is not a group but a style.

[saywhat-politics]

In what may be the most valuable gift ever extended to the United States from a foreign government, the Trump administration is preparing to accept a super luxury Boeing 747-8 jumbo jet from the royal family of Qatar -- a gift that is to be available for use by President Donald Trump as the new Air Force One until shortly before he leaves office, at which time ownership of the plane will be transferred to the Trump presidential library foundation, sources familiar with the proposed arrangement told ABC News.

The gift is expected to be announced next week, when Trump visits Qatar on the first foreign trip of his second term, according to sources familiar with the plans.

Trump toured the plane, which is so opulently configured it is known as "a flying palace," while it was parked at the West Palm Beach International Airport in February.

[thebearer]

i'll be so happy loving you |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: a two for one special- the proposal and the elopement :) or how you and carmen get married.

contains: language, alludes to sexual references, some smut at the end but not super graphic. mainly just lovey dovey fluff!!!

Six Weeks Earlier 

“Looks pretty in here, bear.” You hum, looking around the newly renovated restaurant. “I love that painting.”  Now that The Bear was bringing in some revenue, Carmen and Sydney could decorate more how they envisioned, tiny touches that made the place dazzle- look and feel more like how they dreamed it would be. 

“Yeah? Like it better than the old one?” Carmen grinned, arms looping around your waist, cheek pressed lazily to your own. 

You melted into his touch, nodding gently. “Yeah. Much better.” You turn so your noses are nearly touching. “A lot better than that watercolor piece.” 

Carmen snorted. “Yeah, I told Sugar it looked weird. Told her we needed fuckin’ abstract or somethin’.” 

You looked at the painting, a configuration of muted lines and colors that somehow fit the aesthetic of the restaurant perfectly. “Yeah, I think everyone will like it. Looks perfect.” You mutter, lips brushing against Carmen’s cheek for a sweet kiss. He shouldn’t have flustered so easily, but how could he not? When you kissed him, looked at him, loved him this way. 

“So what’s on the menu for tonight?” You asked, turning in Carmen’s arms, lazily looping your own around his neck. 

“We’re closed tonight.” Carmen hoped you couldn’t feel the pounding in his heart, running his clammy hands down your waist while your brows knitted together. “Got a private event.” 

“Private event? Ooh, very fancy, chef.” You quipped. “How did I miss that? I swear it wasn’t on the calendar-” 

“-It wasn’t.” Carmen said quickly, far too quickly to be cool and unsuspecting like he’d hoped. You pulled back, a little shocked at his tone, his hands pulling you back to him, running soothingly down your spine. “I mean… It's a private party. A sort of celebration just for all of us. For the staff. Since we’ve been, uh, doin’ so good.” 

You paused for a moment, eyes darting all over his face, trying desperately to read his expression. Carmen hoped you couldn’t see through him, hoped that the lie Richie made him rehearse would work on you. Hoped he wouldn’t ruin this like he ruined everything else. 

“That’s sweet.” Your pursed lips melted into a smile. “I think that’ll be really nice, Carm. That’s very sweet. They deserved it. You deserve it, Carm.” 

Carmen blushed, letting his eyes fall down between the two of you. He was still getting used to that, after all this time, the sweet compliments you gave him freely. Not as an apology or to get something out of him- use it to control him like others had. 

“You deserve it too, y’know.” Carmen could feel his chest beating, rising and stomach turning the way it did when his heat rate picked up. The rational voice in his head was telling him there was nothing to be worried about, but it was a hushed whisper compared to the roar of “what if’s” and self doubting screams that took over. 

Your lips curled in a little smile. You didn’t agree, but you didn’t argue either. Carmen could feel the lurch of his heart flutter back down into his chest. “So, I’ll pick you up at seven?” 

You laughed, brows lifting in amusement. “Oh? It’s a date? Thought this was staff appreciation.” 

“More like a fancy kinda family.” Carmen schmoozed you easily. “But one where you should maybe wear that dress? Or really, whatever you want, but ya know… I’ll be dressed up and so will everyone else. It’s stupid, but-but I wanted it to be nice like the real experience sorta thing-” 

“-Carm,” You cut off his rambling with a hand cradling his jaw, thumb gliding over the stubble on his chin. “I think it’s really sweet. I’ll dress up. Thanks for giving me a heads up. I don’t want to be a jack off in jeans.” 

“A what?” Carmen barked out a laugh. “A jack off?” You frowned, nodding slightly. Carmen bit back his laugh, lips pulling in a wide smile. “It's a jag-off, baby. Gotta let it roll off the tongue.” 

You blushed, rolling your eyes at him to hide your own embarrassment. “You’re a jagoff, Berzatto.” You jammed your finger into his chest, leaving him laughing. 

Present 

“This is it.” Carmen muttered, pushing the creaking door of the house open. You looked around the room, dimly lit with creaking planks of wood for floors. House plants everywhere and the sound of the waves rolling gently on the water outside when the boats cruised by. 

“This is it, hm?” You grinned, looking around while Carmen set the bags down by the door, nervously tracking you. 

“Yeah. It-It’s not a lot, baby, I told you it wouldn’t be. But I-I just… Wait until you see the view in the morning or-or at sunset, when it goes down over the water it’s so clear, you won’t believe it-” 

“-Carmen,” You laughed lightly, a grin so wide your cheeks were hurting. “It’s perfect. Cute, I love it.” You giggled, pushing the blinds open to let the light in. Carmen’s chest aches with the release of tension from hearing that- that you liked it. 

“So where’s this cat?” You hum, ducking under the table and couch to look, eyes scanning the small space of the boat house. 

“The cat that doesn’t exist?” Carmen snorted lightly. 

“You and Marcus say that but I know it’s here.” You hum, scanning the room for a cat door, anyway that the animal might come in and out. “Probably just scared of the two of you.” 

“Kinda the charm of this place, honey. You don’t see the cat. Just feed the invisible cat and water the plants.” Carmen was beaming, watching your frame illuminated by the bright Denmark sun shining in through the windows. 

“Hm, I’m gonna see this cat before I leave.” You declared, checking the cabinets, the hall closets- all the places your own cat liked to hide. Anchovy, you and Carmen’s precious boy, found in the dumpster outside of The Bear. 

Carmen’s lips quipped in a smirk. “I wanna see your cat. How about that, hm?” It was corny, cheesy, made you cringe and laugh and gag exaggeratedly all at the same time; which is exactly why he said it. Arms wrapping around your waist, he pulled you close, lips hovering over yours. 

“Carm,” You sighed gently, a trace of a giggle following with the breathy moan that hitched in your throat when his hands kneaded the fat of your ass. “Thought we had to meet your friend later? I still have to get ready and shower-” 

“-We got two hours, baby.” Carmen purred, tongue running over your bottom lip teasingly, feeling you tense under his touch. “C’mon, we got time. I’ll take a shower with you, too. Save time.” 

You snorted lightly, rolling your eyes. He was insatiable, and you couldn’t blame him. The two of you here, back at the “most beautiful fuckin’ place on Earth” according to Carmen. He looked so good, so pretty. The way the sunlight would catch in his eyes. They were brighter here, bluer. You didn’t know how that was possible, but it was, and it left you clinging to his hand while you strolled down the street, gazing into his eyes positively dopey and love drunk. 

“You gotta be quick.” You pointed at him with an exaggerated glare, already giving in. “Not like last night. We almost missed our flight, bear.” 

“But we didn’t.” Carmen grinned, his breath hot when it trailed down your cheek to your jaw, leaving wet, sloppy kisses in its wake, hands tilting your head back gently to get to your neck. 

Carmen walked you back towards the kitchen table, hands gripping and sliding down your waist up to your neck. “You just look s’pretty. My pretty girl.” 

You blushed, enveloping his lips fully, letting yourself melt into him, maybe he was melting into you- the two of you molding into each other, fusing together like it was your only purpose in life. Your legs around his waist, lying back on the rickety oak table that Carmen assured “It’ll be fine, just relax, baby. I got ya.” His hand in yours while he rolled deeply inside of you, skin to skin, a chorus of whines and mewls mixing in harmony in the kitchen. 

Six Weeks Earlier 

“Oh, looks like we’re early.” You look around the restaurant. The tables were set and lights dim, but only you and Carmen seemed to be the ones in it. 

“Uh, they-they finished late, but, uh, they’ll be here.” Carmen stuttered, hands running down the front of his pants again, eyes darting around the room. 

Your eyes narrowed lightly, but shook it off. Carmen was nervous, he had been for weeks. You thought it was because of the restaurant’s new Michelin star holder status, or maybe because of the countless interviews and press that came with it. Still, that had been weeks ago, the press had died down slightly, and Carmen was still anxious. 

“Ah, good evening, folks.” Richie beamed, sliding behind the hostess stand. “How are the two of you this fine night?” 

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Great, Richie. How are you?” You played along. 

“I am having a lovely night, even better not that you are here.” Richie schmoozed, leaving you snorting lightly at his dramatics. “Right this way.” 

“So what time does everyone get here?” You ask, sliding into the booth. 

“Oh, they’ll be here soon.” Richie said easily, calming your suspicions. “I'll go ahead and get you two started while you wait.” 

“So you didn’t get the night off?” You laugh gently. 

“Someone’s gotta take care of everything, sweetheart.” Richie shrugged. “Champagne? Or is that too early?” 

Carmen’s eyes flashed at Richie. “I just want water, Cousin.” 

If there was any hostility, Richie didn’t seem to notice, simply turning to you. ���And for the lovely lady?” 

“Uh, I’m good with water for now too.” You nodded. “I’ll wait until everyone else gets here.” 

“Wonderful.” Richie grinned, eyes cutting in a glare towards Carmen’s. “I’ll be back with that for the two of you.” 

You waited until Richie was gone, turning to Carmen carefully. “Hey, what was that?” You asked. 

“What?” Carmen tried to appear calm and chill, his body tensing beside you. “What-What was what?” 

Your brows furrowed. “Carmen… Are you ok?” You asked, reaching out to grab his hand lightly. His hands were clammy, tensing in yours, and pulling away quickly to wipe the perspiration on his jeans. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

“No.” Carmen shook his head furiously. He felt like he might throw up and sob at the same time. Felt like his own heart might just give out entirely. “I’m fine, baby, I promise. I’m just… I’m still trying to figure out the summer menu. Make sure it’s good because we’ve never done that before. That’s what we’re trying tonight, and-and I just hope it’s good, ya know?” It wasn’t a total lie, Carmen was worried about the menu and you were testing it tonight. 

You seemed to believe him, his chest loosening when you scooched closer to him, cuddled together in the booth. “It’ll be good. You know it will, bear.” You hummed, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek, laughing when you pulled apart. “Shit, I’m sorry I forgot I have lipstick on.” You giggle, wiping the imprint away lightly off his blushing cheeks. 

“Sorry for the wait.” Richie hummed, dropping the two waters off easily with the new starter for you to try. A classic Mediterranean salad and pita spruced up “Sydney style” as you would say. The term had caught on in the kitchen, finding its way into the names and actions done there. Carmen loved it. Loved the way you said it, the way the staff said it, that it came from you. 

“I’ll leave this here, and I’ll be back with the first course.” Richie smiled. 

“Richie, why don’t you sit with us and try it until the others get here?” You nodded to the spot beside you. 

Carmen froze and so did Richie, the two of them looking at each other for only a moment- but it was a moment too long. Your suspicions rose again, eyes flickering between the two of them. “Ya know, I would love to, but I gotta help the newbies in the kitchen.” Richie said easily. “Gotta make sure they got everything covered. I’m head chef tonight.” 

You didn’t laugh or roll your eyes like you normally would. Instead, you glared at him lightly. Richie’s eyes flashed to Carmen’s. “Alright, well, uh, if the two of you need anything? I’m your guy, alright?”

You waited until he was back in the kitchen, Carmen’s eyes focused on the food, knee bouncing furiously under the table. “Carmen, look at me.” You demanded, turning to him fully. His eyes lifted hesitant towards yours, wide and round like a child caught coloring on the walls. “What’s goin’ on?” 

“Nothin’, baby, I promise.” Carmen said quickly, trying to soothe you but his rigid, frantic tone didn’t help. 

“Carmen-” 

“-It’s nothing.” Carmen said, matching your firm tone. “Just Richie bein’... I dunno what the fuck he’s doin’. Pissin’ me off.” Carmen grumbled, shaking his head. 

“Did you two get in a fight or something?” You pressed. “Is that why you’re being weird?” 

Carmen blinked. “Yes.” He blurted. That wasn’t true, not even remotely. He and Richie had been getting along great, actually, for once. But if it would throw off your suspicions, then he’d gladly throw Richie under the bus- this once. 

“Oh.” You frowned lightly. “Why? I thought you guys were getting along?” 

“You know how Richie is.” Carmen rolled his eyes for emphasis. “He just… He can’t keep his fuckin’ mouth shut.” 

“What did he say?” You asked, reaching for the pita, scooping it in the blended dip of sorts. 

“Just… It was stupid and gross. I really don’t want to talk about it.” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t wanna talk about him. Wanna talk to you. How is it?” 

You hummed, chewing lightly. “Amazing. As always.” You beamed proudly at Carmen. “I told you it would be. You’re the best, bear.” 

Carmen blushed, chewing on his own piece. It was good. Sydney had found the perfect balance, she always did. “Well, this is Syd, not me. Can’t take the credit for this one.” 

“Mm, I thought it tasted very Sydney style.” You giggled. 

“Yeah,” Carmen nodded, hoping you didn’t see the way his hands shook when he took a sip of water. He could barely eat, barely drink around the lump in his throat. “She did most of this, but, uh, I did the dessert.” 

“You did?” You gawked gently. “Not Marcus?” 

“No.” Carmen nudged you lightly. “Well, he helped a little. But it was mostly me. He said I could take the credit on this one” 

“That bad, huh?” You laughed. “Marcus doesn’t even want to put his name on it? Yikes.” 

Carmen rolled his eyes, grinning fondly at you. “I think you’ll like it.” 

You eyed him playfully. “Well, I have high hopes, Berzatto.” 

Me too. Carmen thought, shoving another torn piece of pita in his mouth, hand rubbing anxiously over his pocket again. 

Present 

“So the two of you met in school?” You ask, hand on Carmen’s knee under the table, lightly rubbing over his slacks soothingly. 

“Yes. And he was so much better than me, I thought about dropping out every single day.” Luca grinned playfully at Carmen. “You know, that’s why I went to pastry? Because I knew I’d never compete with Carmen in the other areas, but making a tart? I could outdo him on a tart.” 

“I could never get the crust right.” Carmen shrugged. “Could never figure out how to get it flaky enough. Used to drive me fuckin’ insane.” 

Luca grinned smugly, refilling his own glass of wine. “Well, your chef, Marcus, has got it. Might have it even better than me. Real talent on that one.” 

“Yeah.” Carmen beamed. “He’s good. Real good.” 

“He is.” Luca nodded, before looking over at you. “I’m sorry, darling, I don’t want to be rude, talking about all this cooking nonsense. I’m sure you’ve had enough of that back home.” 

“Oh, no. I love to hear about it.” You beamed, reassuringly. “I wish I could cook like that. You can ask Carm, I’m a hopeless cook. Horrible at it.” 

“No, you’re not, c’mon.” Carmen shook his head lightly at you. “She’s good. Can make a better grilled cheese than any of us.” 

Luca grinned at your blush, the way Carmen pulled you into his side lovingly. It was good to see Carmen like this. The last time, right after Mikey’s death, Carmen was dull. It worried Luca. Carmen had always been tightly wound, anxious, meticulous to a fault, but it seemed to get more extreme- damaging. It was refreshing to see him now. Luca could hardly recognize him, the relaxed, cool man in front of him. No ounce of competition in his tone, his guard down for once. Here with you; happy with you. 

“So, I hope I’m not overstepping, but I have to ask.” Luca said, leaning forward on the table gently. “Why here? Why not at home for the two of you? Not that I mind, at all, of course. I’m honored, but I have to know why here?” 

You looked at Carmen, lashes batting lightly. “Well, Carmen always said it was the most beautiful place he’d ever been. Marcus, too. And… I dunno, I’d always wanted to come, so we figured why not?” 

“This place has always been good for me, ya know?” Carmen muttered, his knee bouncing lightly. “I-I… nothin’ bad has ever happened here like it has other places.” He didn’t need to say it, you both knew. “It’s always been good, and-and I wanna keep the good. We’re already good, I just wanna do it somewhere good, too.” 

Luca nodded slowly, lifting his own wine glass up to the two of you. “Well, then; to keeping the good.” He grinned, his glass clinking against your own when they touched. “And I’m honored to be a part of this, really.” 

“Thank you for bein’ a part of it.” Carmen said, jaw clenched with emotion. “Means a lot, Luca. I, uh, I-I really-” 

“Don’t mention it, friend. I’m happy to. Excited, really, for the two of you.” Luca nodded warmly. 

“We are too.” You grin, beaming up at Carmen lovingly. 

“Yeah… yeah we are.” Carmen hummed, hand sliding down your hip and squeezing it gently. 

Six Weeks Earlier 

“I think it’s great, but you know me, bear. I’d eat chicken tenders every day if I could.” You giggled. 

“Still?” Carmen beamed, eyes dazzling in amusement, huddled into you in the booth like you two were the only two in the restaurant- and well, you were. You hadn’t seemed to notice, thankfully. 

“Thought I finally got you outta that?” Carmen teased. 

“Nuh-uh, no way, bear. I’m still a tender defender-” 

“-Tender defender?” Carmen howled in laughter. 

“Yes! I love chicken tenders, and frankly, your disdain for them is off putting, Berzatto. You should love and appreciate all foods, Mr. Michelin star Chef of the year.” You tickled his side lightly, making him squirm gently, a little blushy under your praise. 

“Yeah, maybe not tenders. Nuggets? I can get behind nuggets.” Carmen hummed, his smile falling gently when he saw Richie come out, holding the small covered tray. His heart hammered, feeling his stomach turn while you still giggled beside him. 

“And dessert is here.” Richie said smoothly, eyes cutting to Carmen’s. 

“Ooh, what is it?” You asked, reaching over to pull the cloche off. 

“Eh, eh, hold on.” Richie pulled it away gently. “The Chef,” His eyes cut dramatically to Carmen’s. “Wants it to be a surprise. Wants to surprise you himself.” 

You looked at Carmen, an amused grin on your lips. “Oh, does he?” You quip. 

Richie winked at Carmen, backing away. “Enjoy, you two.” 

Carmen waited until the doors shut to look at you, sure his heart was going to stop entirely. “So?” You lifted a brow, a finger tracing the bottom plate lightly. “What’s the big surprise?” 

Carmen’s heart fluttered in his chest at your smile, wiping his hands one more time on his pants before he grasped the lid, a white knuckled grip so his shaking would still. “You, uh, you remember how Marcus was talking that one time about the cake he had in Copenhagen? And how-how it was the best thing he’d ever had?” Fuck, he was stuttering, his mind racing, and his hands were clamming all over again. 

“Yeah, the sponge one, right?” You asked, nodding gently. 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s the one.” Carmen nodded. “So, uh, I was thinking… You should try it.” 

“Oh?” You grinned, eyes flashing to him excitedly. “Is that what this is? Carmen, that’s so sweet-” 

“-No.” Carmen shook his head, watching your face fall in confusion. “Fuck, I mean, yeah, it is- it’s- I’m just-” Carmen took a deep breath, trying to still his nerves, stop his ramblings. “I think you should try it for yourself,” His hands shook when he pulled the lid off, revealing the plate. 

You gawked, looking at the tiny sponge cake, covered in a thin layer of chocolate separating the many layers, a dollop of cream of some sorts on top. But that wasn’t what caught your eye. No, it was the two tickets sticking out of the top, plane tickets to Copenhagen. 

“Carmen…” You gasped lightly, looking at him with bright eyes that made his heat leap. 

“I think you should get to try it for yourself, there.” Carmen grinned. “I-I want us to go together and try it.” 

“Carmen, oh my god, this is-this is just… You’re so fuckin’ sweet.” You grin, hands grabbing his cheeks, pulling him into you in a hard kiss. One that had his mind stilling, body melting to yours. Kissing you always made him feel like that. Like he had no other purpose than to just kiss you, and to him, maybe he didn’t. 

“This is so sweet. I-I can’t wait!” You squealed, hugging him tightly. “Oh, I want to go to that restaurant your friend works at! And maybe we could go to those gardens? I saw them on TikTok and I’ve wanted to go so badly since then.” 

Carmen nodded, your head on his chest, he was sure now that you could hear his heart still hammering. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that. Whatever you want to do.” His eyes closed, taking a cleansing breath. Carmen looked at you, the excitement in your eyes. It’s now or never, Berzatto. Let it rip. 

“There’s, uh, o-one more thing I’d like to do.” Carmen shuddered, sliding away from you gently, his hand slipping in his pocket as casually as he could. 

You were bubbly, positively giddy with excitement, you didn’t even notice it. “Yeah? What else? Anything, baby.” 

Carmen fought back a tiny laugh, his sweaty hand clasped in front of you, free one taking your hand. “I, uh, I-I… I wanna marry you?” 

Your breath hitched, body stilling. You were sure you’d heard him wrong, grip tightening in his. “W-What?” 

Carmen’s hand opened slowly, revealing the ring, dazzling even in the low light of the restaurant. Your breath hitched, falling out of your lungs sharply at the sight. 

“I wanna marry you.” Carmen repeated, steadier this time even of the rapid fire beats of his heart. “I mean, I want to marry you even if it’s not there, but-but we talked about a destination wedding if we ever did… And-And I… I can’t imagine living another day without you. I have never loved anything- anyone the way I loved you. Never been loved the way you love me, and… I want to do it every single day for the rest of my life.” 

Your lip wobbled, tears pricking your eyes as Carmen picked up the ring, holding it between his pointer and thumb. Your eyes flickered back to his. “You're the best person I’ve ever met; I ever will meet, baby. You’re-you’re fun, and you’re caring and sweet, and you always are so good to me. Even when I don’t deserve it.” 

“Carm-” 

“-No, I mean it. You are. You are the best. And I love you so much, it-it makes my fuckin’ chest hurt sometimes how much I love you.” Carmen let out a breathy laugh. Your own watery laugh bubbled out of your chest, making your lip wobble, tears streaming down your face. 

“I want to go to Copenhagen with you, and-and I want to go to France with you, and- fuck, I wanna go everywhere and do everything with you for the rest of my life.” Carmen rambled, his own eyes glassy when they looked into yours. 

He said your name, letting each syllable roll off his tongue, your own heart squeezing with joy. “Will you marry me?” 

Your throat felt strangled with emotions, a wet sniffle and a tiny squeak of a cry falling from your lips. “Yes.” You nodded, your own hand shaking in his. “Yes, Carm, yes. I’ll marry you, yes.” 

“Yes?” Carmen was sure he was hallucinating; dreaming, maybe. Had to be. But yet, there you were, wiping your eyes, nodding and giving a watery laugh that had his heart aching in the best way. 

“Yes, Carmen, are you kidding me? Yes. Of course, I’ll marry you.” You muttered, your hands finding his jaw easily, pulling him for another kiss that had his head reeling, a small sob passing through his lips onto yours. 

Carmen fumbled through his own teary sniffles, hands shaking with adrenaline when he slipped the ring on, your foreheads pressed together. “Holy shit, it’s… it’s beautiful, Carmen.” You gawked, pulling the ring up to see it. The design, the cuts, it screamed Carmen in the best way- made your lip quiver all over again. 

“Yeah? I-I designed it, and I just… It looked like something you’d like.” Carmen muttered, turning to wipe his eyes. 

“I love it.” You beam. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” Carmen whispered, hands cradling your wet cheeks, moving sweetly back to you. 

“So,” Richie’s voice interrupted, halting the two of you. You turned, seeing the staff standing excitedly behind him. “Do you want the champagne now?” 

Present 

The ceremony was a whirlwind. The two of you, standing hand in hand in the Copenhagen City Hall. Carmen in a suit, sans tie, a blue gray sort of jacket that made his eyes pop even more, if that was possible. You,  in your wedding dress, casual and short but still so pretty. You knew when you saw it that it was the one. A tiny veil and a bouquet of flowers, Carmen had surprised you with this morning, your ring dazzling. 

Luca passed you the ring, a warm smile when you took it, repeating the vows to Carmen before you slipped it on his inked finger. A couple signatures and a kiss later, and the two of you were married- married. The photographer you’d hired snapped photos in the garden out front, Luca gifted you a bottle of Jouet and well wishes. 

Carmen carried you through the threshold, insisted on it, scooping you up and kicking the door open while you squealed and giggled. The two of you were giddy, climbing on a high of adrenaline and oxytocin. 

Carmen kissed you in the kitchen, his wife. His hand cradled your cheeks, your hand slipping over his, rings scratching lightly- metal on metal. A reminder that it was real- this was real. 

For the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Berzatto. 

For the first time tangled in the sheets with his wife. Feeling your lips against his, your fingers in his hair, diamond scratching his scalp when your fists curled. His ring left an imprint on your thighs when he gripped them. 

Carmen’s head was buried between your thighs, lapping at your dripping heat like his heart might give out if he didn’t. “Oh! Carm, right there, right there…” You hummed, eyes fluttering, and back arching off the creaking bed. You didn’t care that it shook, part of you hoped you'd break it. 

Carmen could barely hear, your thighs clamped around his head like earmuffs. He was in his own ecstasy driven state, high off the day's events and his love for you, mindlessly lapping at you until he felt your hands push him away. 

“What?” Carmen panted, your slickness coating his mouth, pupils blown with lust. “What’s wrong?” 

“Look,” You whispered, pointing to the corner of the room. 

Carmen turned, hands still gripping your thighs, neck craning to see. There at the edge of the door, two blinking eyes gazed back at him. An orange tabby, perched and clicking back at the two of you curiously. 

“No fuckin’ way.” Carmen muttered, cheek resting against your thigh lightly. 

You giggled, running a hand through his hair. “Told you! He’s probably just scared of you.” You hummed. 

Carmen snorted lightly, standing to coax the cat out gently before he shut the door. He didn’t need you distracted or worse; the cat jumping up on the bed while you two were going at it. 

“Can’t believe that fuckin’ cat’s real.” Carmen grinned, shaking his head lightly. 

“He’s just scared of you and Marcus. I must have good energy.” You beamed playfully. 

Carmen rolled his eyes, pushing you back lightly on the bed. “Just lay back f’me, alright? Let me take care of you, baby.” 

You purred, hips grinding into his touch. “Yes, Mr. Berzatto.” You giggled, back arching when he licked a long, flat tongue stripe through your drenched folds. Copenhagen was better than you could have imagined, even better now. Weeks later, you’d frame the photo of the two of you in the garden, grinning fondly at the memory. At your husband. At your life together with him now and forever.

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: Hellraiser

So in Hellraiser, the Lament configuration aka the puzzle box, is a gateway between this world and hell

It was designed by an brilliant toy maker and it’s a combination of his ingenious design and dark magic that bridges the gap between this world and the next. By solving the box, the gateway is opened

So a portable portal to the Ghost Zone made into a puzzle box is a very Fenton style invention

So what I propose is one of the more investigative heroes finding this puzzle box and becoming obsessed with solving it only to open up a portal to the ghost zone when they do

My personal suggestion is Tim Drake because if him stalking Batman and Robin proves anything it’s that he’s extremely smart and prone to obsessive behavior. A puzzle he genuinely struggles with opening? That’s like catnip to him, and/or most of the bats but especially him

AND I’m just saying accidentally summoning the Ghost King by solving a puzzle is more on brand for the bats than willingly relying on magic to solve a problem. Like, I’m pretty sure Bruce would be more willing to use a gun than to hop on board summoning an unknown entity unless it was 11000% necessary.

[squeefishy]

I'm not the biggest fan of traditional superhero lovesquares for reasons that I will not get into in this post but I would like to propose what I believe is the best possible configuration of the hotguy/cuteguy love square:

If anyone wants to hear more about this AU that can be arranged (hint hint wink wink) but your main takeaway should be that mullet hotguy is superior and also his main flirting strategy is man tits.

[transmutationisms]

i admittedly don't know much about lynch or his work; would love to hear more of your thoughts irt your last post

i've written more on lynch (mostly twin peaks) in my twin peaks tag but to be very general, i think that many people who talk about his work, and i'm very much including a lot of professional writers and critics here, fundamentally misunderstand the way he uses symbolic visual language and write him off as basically making beautiful nonsense when in truth, his work generally does have very overt and deliberate meanings and arguments to it, only you do have to actually parse the role that his signs & symbols play structurally in the formation of a narrative. again being reductive and simplistic, but: most people would have a great deal more confidence interpreting lynch if they thought of him as working in a german expressionist tradition, rather than what i usually hear described as 'surrealism'—by which they really mean to denote a kind of vulgar nihilist / absurdist stance that reduces all symbols to nonsense and thus obviates the need to actually read them.

to take an example that really annoys me, i don't know if you've seen inland empire (would recommend!) but i can't tell you how many times i've seen people dismiss the giant rabbit-headed sitcom bits as "surreal", "absurdist", or just "lynchian" (this means nothing in this context). if the visual symbols of the film are supposed to tell us what environment laura dern's character is in, and are supposed to correspond 1:1 to that environment, then the sitcom bits make no sense. on the other hand, what i would propose is that lynch typically projects his characters' psychological needs, wants, and anguishes outward onto the environments they occupy, rather than configuring the environment as a thing-in-itself that impresses upon the characters. inland empire is a film about the creative (including but not limited to artistic) process. what, then, can we surmise about laura dern (im sorry i saw this film thrice & don't remember the characters' names) from the intrusion of a sitcom into her increasingly dizzying, borderline dissociative work as an apparently precariously respectable actor? analogously to the way lynch brings the formal elements of a soap opera to his idyllic PNW small town in twin peaks, the sitcom format in inland empire introduces an altered logic into a story form that we might otherwise expect to read and follow in very different ways. the rabbits that laura dern sees are not random imagery denoting generic insanity; they are deliberately chosen pieces that tell us what she fears in taking on this artistic project, and how her vision of herself and her work must articulate along the sort of formal demarcation that differentiates a hollywood production from a children's television show from a verite documentary and so forth. the rabbit sitcom is supposed to be destabilising, but not because it's random or nonsensical.

i of course wouldn't reduce lynch's entire artistic outlook to only one mode of engagement or symbology, but broadly i do think that failing to parse his expressionistic use of symbolism is at the root of a lot of responses to his work (both positive & negative) that fail to actually say anything or derive any meaning. this is how people miss the extremely glaring reaganisms of twin peaks or blue velvet, for example. these symbols are not hidden, nor are they random. the association of the demon bob with the us bombing of hiroshima and nagasaki is a visually asserted statement about evil as lynch understands it. the factory landscapes in eraserhead (here the german-expressionist influence is quite overt) don't just represent the encroachment of a modernist (derogatory) environment into the dad's family life; they are also framed & shot & dressed to be a reflection of how he perceives his work, his social reproduction via his son, and the broader social context in which he lives. again i don't mean to reduce lynch's filmmaking ethos to one single aesthetic method lol—but, this is certainly a huge constitutive element of a lot of what he did, and it matters to me both because (again there is more on this in the link above) his work is profoundly, obviously conservative in ways that a shocking number of people miss or deny—and because, despite that, i get a lot of enjoyment from his technical skill and craft as a filmmaker, specifically including the way that he uses visual language & symbols as richly articulated projections of his characters and their various trials & tribulations.

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Citroën TPV prototype, Très Petite Voiture (Very Small Car), 1997. An unsanctioned in-house proposal for small car that was a retro-futurist take on the design of the original 2CV. As is often the case with such design studies the car had two doors on one side and one on the other to indicate how different versions of the car could be configured. The C3 won out over this proposal

[leiascully]

Fic: The Altar Is My Hips (M, MSR)

1500 words; M for sexual situations; the POÄNG pals wondered what would happen if Mulder proposed while eating pussy and here is the result (ao3)

Scully’s flat on her back in her bed with Mulder’s face between her legs. It’s her new favorite pastime. She’s got her hands in his silky hair and his tongue flicks at her clit in a steady rhythm. She lets her back arch, pushing her mound against his face. He hums in pleasure and licks a few lazy circles that leave her moaning.

Mulder, as she had always suspected, eats pussy like it’s his calling in life. Mulder eats pussy like other people eat oysters, and with twice as much relish. Maybe it’s that full lower lip or maybe it’s his nimble tongue or maybe it’s that distinguished profile, but Scully can’t resist. His face is a saddle and she’s ready to ride. Yee-haw.

She’s had lovers before who made it feel like a chore, but it’s obvious Mulder enjoys it. He’ll eat her out for hours, given the chance, moving from her on top to him on his knees to him pinning her to the bed to various configurations of 69. He’ll strip her down or tongue her through the nicer underwear she’s started wearing. She has to fuck him between sessions just to redistribute the sensation.

Maybe it’s the seven years of blue balls, but they’ve both been insatiable since they started fucking. She can’t get enough of him. She’s fairly sure Skinner’s noticed the way she’s been staring at Mulder during meetings, partly because she keeps putting the end of her pen in her mouth. It isn’t on purpose. She’s been hungry for so long, and now she’s got a buffet spread out in front of her. Or under her. Or on top of her. She’s flexible. So to speak.

Today she’s a pillow princess and Mulder’s doing all the work. All she has to do is lie back and not think of England. She has no thoughts when Mulder spreads her thighs. Her brain is blissfully empty, filled up with sparklers and fireflies and the heat of a perfect summer evening. Mulder’s made her come so hard she forgot how to speak. She wants him so much it makes her feel stupid. When he’s inside her, she doesn’t care about anything else in the world.

He sucks her clit gently into his mouth, teasing her. Sensation prickles through her. She’s got goosebumps. The tip of his tongue swirls over her clit, and then he rubs at her clit with the flat width of his tongue until it makes her vision go blurry. He moans into her and it’s such a fucking turn-on. If she wasn’t already drenched, she’d be wet just listening to him eat her out.

She combs her fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to grab a handful. She doesn’t always resist, but this isn’t that kind of occasion. This is sweet, deliciously leisurely. He’s been taking it very slow, pausing in his ministrations to kiss his way up the ticklish inside of her thigh. She’s sure she’s got a hickey just low enough that the hem of her underwear won’t conceal it. She’s lucky she doesn’t have one just above the back of her knee. Skinner would definitely raise an eyebrow over that one.

Mulder nudges her thighs further apart, pushing her open with the breadth of his shoulders. She splays her legs wide, putting herself on display for him. He makes a happy noise and pulls a little harder at her clit. She gasps and sighs. Her blood feels like hot honey, thick and sweet and slow. Her whole body is hot and loose. Need builds in her belly, but it’s a deliberate coiling, driven by the pace of Mulder’s tongue.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been here. She doesn’t care. She only knows that her body is a pleasure garden that Mulder cultivates. She’s magic. She’s the rocking of the ocean, punctuated by glints of sharper pleasure. Her orgasm feels inevitable, even in its early stages, but she doesn’t want to rush it. She’s enjoying herself, enjoying him enjoying her.

She can feel the moment his hunger shifts. He sucks harder at her, flicks his tongue faster. He knows how to drive her to the edge. He uses the tip of his tongue to tease the exquisitely sensitive bud of nerves under her clitoral hood and she yelps. The pleasure inside her grows. It’s hungrier than before. She needs more, or different, or something.

“Your fingers,” she manages to say, and he’s pushing inside her almost before she can say it. His elegant hands were made to fuck her. She’s convinced of it, despite any evidence to the contrary. Two fingers is usually enough, but not today. She’s starving for him. She wants him everywhere inside her. If he could eat her out and fuck her at the same time, she’d do it. She’d have an orgy of Mulders, one for every orifice and one to grow on.

“More,” she says, and a third finger joins the other two, thrusting deeper into her, seeking the spot he knows will make her come undone. She loves how well he knows her, how he still studies her. His attention is intense; she’s never felt anything like it. He shifts just a little and suddenly it feels like a kiss, somehow even more intimate than before. Fuck, she loves him. She whimpers as his fingers graze the right place and he groans against her clit.

It doesn’t take long after that. Not with his fingers fucking her and his mouth insistent on her most sensitive skin and his other hand reaching up to touch her breasts. She’s tugging at his hair now. Her thighs squeeze around his ears and she isn’t trying to suffocate him, but she can’t relax. Her body is drawn tight, vibrating like a bow string. He strums his tongue across her clit and his fingers work inside her and he’s tweaking one of her nipples and she’s caressing the other and oh God, she’s coming. Her hips buck and he pins her with one arm and licks her through the waves of pleasure. She shivers over and over, as if she’s chaining one orgasm to the next to the next, until finally it’s too much and she gently pushes him away. He raises his face and rests his chin on her thigh.

“God, Mulder, that was amazing.” She can’t catch her breath.

“Marry me,” he says. His face is wet. His lips glisten. He licks at them. She can’t tell if he’s nervous or relishing the moment.

She laughs and pushes up on her elbows to look at him. “What?”

“Marry me,” he says again. There’s something in his eyes that tells her it’s not a joke, but that’s hard to believe after all his previous proposals, variously in jest or inebriated.

“Isn’t that my line, after an orgasm like that?” she asks.

He huffs and his breath tickles her thigh. “If you’re trying to let me down easy, I get it.”

“Marry you,” she says.

He nods, his chin digging into her thigh.

She looks at him for a long moment. His eyes are dark with unsatisfied desire, but he waits as patiently as if they’re at the ticket counter at the airport. She measures his face with her eyes, as if she doesn’t know it by heart. She lets her heart open, a luxury she rarely allows herself. Love suffuses her as thoroughly as pleasure did, rippling through her until she can hardly breathe. Of course it’s Mulder. It’s always been Mulder. If it could be anyone, it’s Mulder. They’ve been pledged to each other since that night in Bellefleur when she stepped into his hotel room and showed him her skin and her naked fear and he showed her his soul in return.

“Okay,” she says.

His eyes light up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says. She can wear a dress, white or otherwise. She can vow in front of God and her family to have and to hold him as long as they both shall live. She can wear his ring, be his wife, honor him, obey him (under very specific circumstances). The more she thinks about the idea, the better she likes it. “Will you marry me?”

“Of course I will,” he says.

“Come here,” she whispers, suddenly shy, and he hauls himself up the length of her body until she can kiss him. Mulder kisses like a fairytale: true love wrapped up in the strangest mysteries. She can taste herself on his mouth and feel the rigid heat of his cock against her hip. She shifts until he’s sliding between her folds, sliding into her, rocking slowly as they kiss. They make love; there’s no other word for it. They haven’t done it like this yet, somehow, though she would have sworn they’d tried it all. He moves in her, watching her, and she feels so new and so precious. Her eyes are glossy with tears, but so are his. She kisses his eyelids and he laughs a little. Her heart flares with heat. The world has been so cruel to him. Now he’s under her protection forever.

“Marry me?” he asks again as she arches under him.

“Yes,” she says as she comes again, “yes, yes, yes,” and she knows she’ll never stop saying it.

[tljsnarutoblog]

you see, it's not that oto had the biggest congregation of transgender ninja because they took in outcasts, it's just that when a guy goes out and advertises that he'll put on or take off any number and configuration of genitals if he finds your proposal funny they're gonna flock in hordes

[my-castles-crumbling]

ROSEKILLERSTARSEEKER HEADCANNONS: - evan is the cook, because barty is allowed nowhere near fire, james could burn water and regulus can't be asked - when someone's ill, james will take care of them, get them hot water bottles, soup, blankets, anything they need and much they don't need and while they all protest, they secretly love it - when james is ill, barty sits on him and steals the soup evan heated - on dates, they always sit in the same configuration around tables and stuff but will make out with the person next to or opposite them, or sometimes even diagonally across the table - barty likes to bite the others to remind them that they're his - james tends to come up with date ideas and regulus will plan and overthink them, but barty and evan are content to just snuggle/playfight/cuddle on the sofa and james and reggie join in - they all end up proposing on the literal same day (their anniversary of getting together) because they've all helped plan an incredible day out and night in - even evan and barty helped - and thought they would make it extra special with the announcement hi it's smol anon :)

omg I love all of these <3

[thebroccolination]

CELEBRATE MARRIAGE EQUALITY (AND KEY'S SUPER DIGNIFIED MELTDOWN) WITH KRISTSINGTO

[Okay. Okay. I'm somewhat more emotionally collected now having had a few hours to compose myself. How cute I am when I lie.]

Krist and Singto dedicated a segment in PeBaCa’s concert to celebrating Thailand’s legalization of marriage equality on January 23rd, 2025. Complete with proposal!

[Yes, that's Krist-as-Himself proposing to Singto-as-Himself. No, I'm not the same person I was this morning, and as a matter of fact, I wave goodbye to that Key with nothing but fondness in my heart. I am now Feral Swamp Creature Key who subsists only off rainbows or bloodshed depending on my mood. Thank you for the wellness check.]

In the introduction to their segment, Krist and Singto acted out a reimagined scene from "Love of Siam" (2007), a pinnacle of queer Thai cinema that paved the way for "SOTUS" (2016) to even exist almost ten years afterward, so for KristSingto to show their respect to it was a beautiful way to start things off.

[Do you love the little plush of KingMan over Singto's shoulder as much as I do?]

It should be mentioned that from my passing familiarity with "Love of Siam," KristSingto went with something a touch more melodramatic. Considering how eager they always are to volunteer for the breakup songs and the angry exes series, they're basically theatre kids disguised as economics majors, so it's totally up their alley to take creative liberties with the dialogue and tone.

Of course, I'm also convinced that Krist just wanted an excuse to show off that he can cry on command.

Like, no one dies at the end of "Love of Siam," but Krist apparently decided he needed to for The Drama.

[Yes, your deductive reasoning looking at these two images is correct. Krist did have a heart attack because his boyfriend Singto broke up with him. He did indeed have the spotlight change to red to symbolize his very sad onstage death. I am never, ever exaggerating my love for this ridiculous human, y'all. I would punch a planet into the sun itself for Kit Krist Middle Name Perawat Sangpotirat.]

Granted, this is the same khuujin who put Krist's actual car accident into their meta series about their Extremely Platonic relationship (airing next month). This is very on-brand for them.

Oh, so then they jump into The Future, and yay, Marriage Equality is Legalized Now!

[I’m somehow on my knees screaming into a typhoon near a cliff by the sea while also simultaneously typing this on my phone in a quiet train car.]

I'm only going to get more feral about them from here on out, I'm afraid.

THE PERFORMANCE

Now you're ready to watch The Performance.

Armed with all this context, please go forth into their music number full of every possible fucking rainbow configuration imaginable starting with Krist proposing to Singto (WHAT EVEN HAPPENED TODAY), featuring a walk down the aisle in matching white suits (HELLO???), and ending with them kissing at their wedding (HELP????????):

Also, it cuts off too early in the above video to see the very end of the performance, but if you want to be super unreasonable and unhinged with me for a second, tell me on a scale of yes to obviously how likely it is that they Kissed for Real:

"But Key!" you say, being reasonable and hinged the way I wish you wouldn't be. "They don't kiss for real at these events!"

Maybe yours don't!

Mine do! \:D/

(Are we all fully understanding at this point why I've spent years so fixated on trying to show other interfans that they've been completely brainwashed and fooled by slander of my beloved biological son Krist? Look at that guy in the video who probably planned and staged the whole performance like he always does wearing a THOUSAND RAINBOW RIBBONS UNDER A RAINBOW DECKED IN RAINBOWS. At this point, Krist could marry Singto in a church and there would be three thousand English-speaking interfans commenting on the video going, "Okay, look, I admit he's committed to the bit, but I'm still not convinced." But that's why we block people. <3)

Ooh, fun tidbit for the road: see that place in the background swathed in all the rainbows? That's the area between Siam Center and Siam Paragon, two shopping malls adjacent to Siam Station. "Cutie Pie" (2022) also included this spot in its final scene along with a message of support for marriage equality:

The other fun bit is that that area is considered to be the center of Bangkok, so I've been told that using it as the backdrop for content supporting marriage equality is fairly symbolic.

KEY HAS A LOT OF EMOTIONS INSTEAD OF GOING TO SLEEP

This was going to be more structured but I'm sleepy and emotional and probably going to cry again so let's jump to the sloppy weeping in text.

This performance feels to me like KristSingto have come full circle from their SOTUS era while raising the standard for their next lap together.

Because in many ways, KristSingto will always be associated with beginnings. Their legacy is “SOTUS,” which wasn’t the first Thai BL but the first to gain widespread recognition and signal to the people with money that they could make more money by endorsing more series like it.

[If you've ever complained about the temperature and lack of tongue-inclusion during kiss scenes in early series, know that we have footage of a different KongArt kiss that had to be cut because it got too involved for what TV was allowed to show in 2016. Not just for queer couples. Anyone. It was a big deal that their lips were moving at all.]

They were also the first established khuujin at GMMTV—with all the pros and cons and psychological challenges that have come with it. They celebrated the establishment of the Peraya fanclub on April 19th, 2017 by exchanging rings given to them by their fans.

[Please explain to me how I'm meant to look at any of this and think Krist hasn't been nursing a crush on Singto since his past life. Look at his face. Look at it.]

They were also the first male-male pair to win KAZZ’s Best Couple Award in 2017, then they proceeded to win it three consecutive more times.

[Singto wasn't present for the 2020 ceremony because he was off kissing another man for "Friendzone." Choose your fighter: legend or scandal. (There's a correct answer and it's the first one.)]

And finally, if KristSingto weren’t the first to have an implied same-sex engagement scene in Kongphob and Arthit’s “Our Skyy” episode from 2018, they were among the first.

[Almost no one outside the KristSingto fandom ever includes this scene in the proposal scene compilations but it deserves to be.]

There are only so many firsts one can have in any given industry, and I think it's time KristSingto got to enjoy some of the established comforts available to them now considering how much trauma they both went through to carve the path for themselves and others.

[For one thing, let them kiss with tongue! (I think we can all agree it's an important one. They both kiss well and I would like them to get the credit they deserve for it.)]

Because the thing is, a lot of the really risqué, envelope-pushing, flagrantly queer series we’ve gotten in the years since 2016 were made partially thanks to these two. GMMTV really didn’t seem to want to give KristSingto anything but money-sucking top spender events and concerts because they had little to no faith in BL making substantial money. So they kept Krist doing lakorn series and they, in my opinion, cast Singto aside and let him do whatever he wanted because colorism. By the time GMMTV offered KristSingto “Be My Favorite” presumably in early-mid 2021, Singto was already looking for other opportunities outside the company, which left Krist to create the masterpiece BMF would become with a temporary partner.

So, see, one of the cons of KristSingto's path has been that because they were first, nothing has ever been certain for them, and almost everything has been a struggle until now rather than a guarantee. They were hit with widespread condescension as BL actors when "SOTUS" aired, then split up for profit, brought back together for cash-only events, and never got the second series they were asking for all along. Krist said it himself recently: their last full BL series together was "SOTUS S" which aired in 2017, so their fans have been waiting to see another series from them for seven years.

And yet, in all that time, even when Singto left to find different opportunities, they never gave up on each other or left each other behind. They stayed friends, part of the same group, and their friendship grew and matured. They didn't have to talk about work anymore, so they didn't.

Since they're a year apart, they'd never been equals as students, and at work they'd been colleagues. But when Singto left GMMTV, they became adults who stayed at each other's side by choice. And now that he's back, they're more settled than they were before, and, I think, happier for the years of separation from work stress and the constant spotlights on their relationship.

KristSingto were GMMTV’s faithless gamble, surprise success, and subsequent experiment, and only now are they being allowed relative security and opportunities they should have had all along.

That said, tune into their comeback series "The Ex-Morning" (2025) next month! \:D/

The whole post was an ad for their new series. Mwahahaha.

[lonestarflight]

Cancelled Missions: Apollo-Soyuz Test Program II, with a Salyut Space Station

"The Apollo-Soyuz Test Project (ASTP) had its origins in talks aimed at developing a common U.S./Soviet docking system for space rescue. The concept of a common docking system was first put forward in 1970; it was assumed at that time, however, that the docking system would be developed for future spacecraft, such as the U.S. Space Station/Space Shuttle, not the U.S. Apollo Command and Service Module (CSM) and Soviet Soyuz spacecraft in operation at the time.

A joint U.S./Soviet space mission served the political aims of both countries, however, so the concept of a near-term docking mission rapidly gained momentum. In May 1972, at the superpower summit meeting held in Moscow, President Richard Nixon and Premier Alexei Kosygin signed an agreement calling for an Apollo-Soyuz docking in July 1975.

NASA and its contractors studied ways of expanding upon ASTP even before it was formally approved; in April 1972, for example, McDonnell Douglas proposed a Skylab-Salyut international space laboratory . A year and a half later (September 1973), however, the aerospace trade magazine Aviation Week & Space Technology cited unnamed NASA officials when it reported that, while the Soviets had indicated interest in a 1977 second ASTP flight, the U.S. space agency was 'currently unwilling' to divert funds from Space Shuttle development.

Salyut Apollo docking diagram

Nevertheless, early in 1974 the Flight Operations Directorate (FOD) at NASA Johnson Space Center (JSC) in Houston, Texas, examined whether a second ASTP mission might be feasible in 1977. The 1977 ASTP proposal aimed to fill the expected gap in U.S. piloted space missions between the 1975 ASTP mission and the first Space Shuttle flight.

The brief in-house study focused on mission requirements for which NASA JSC had direct responsibility. FOD assumed that Apollo CSM-119 would serve as the prime 1977 ASTP spacecraft and that the U.S. would again provide the Docking Module (DM) for linking the Apollo CSM with the Soyuz spacecraft. CSM-119 had been configured as the five-seat Skylab rescue CSM; work to modify it to serve as the 1975 ASTP backup spacecraft began as FOD conducted its study, soon after the third and final Skylab crew returned to Earth in February 1974. FOD suggested that, if a backup CSM were deemed necessary for the 1977 ASTP mission, then the incomplete CSM-115 spacecraft should get the job. CSM-115, which resided in storage in California, had been tapped originally for the cancelled Apollo 19 moon landing mission.

FOD also assumed that the ASTP prime crew of Thomas Stafford, Vance Brand, and Deke Slayton would serve as the backup crew for the 1977 ASTP mission, while the 1975 ASTP backup crew of Alan Bean, Ronald Evans, and Jack Lousma would become the 1977 ASTP prime crew. FOD conceded, however, that this assumption was probably not realistic. If new crewmembers were needed, FOD noted, then training them would require 20 months. They would undergo 500 hours of intensive language instruction during their training.

FOD estimated that Rockwell International support for the 1977 ASTP flight would cost $49.6 million, while new experiments, nine new space suits, and 'government-furnished equipment' would total $40 million. Completing and modifying CSM-115 for its backup role would cost $25 million. Institutional costs — for example, operating Mission Control and the Command Module Simulator (CMS), printing training manuals and flight documentation, and keeping the cafeteria open after hours — would add up to about $15 million. This would bring the total cost to $104.7 million without the backup CSM and $129.7 million with the backup CSM.

The FOD study identified 'two additional major problems' facing the 1977 ASTP mission, both of which involved NASA JSC's Space Shuttle plans. The first was that the CMS had to be removed to make room for planned Space Shuttle simulators. Leaving it in place to support the 1977 ASTP mission would postpone Shuttle simulator availability.

A thornier problem was that 75% of NASA JSC's existing flight controllers (about 100 people) would be required for the 1977 ASTP in the six months leading up to and during the mission. In the same period, NASA planned to conduct "horizontal" Space Shuttle flight tests. These would see a Shuttle Orbiter flown atop a modified 747; later, the aircraft would release the Orbiter for an unpowered glide back to Earth. FOD estimated that NASA JSC would need to hire new flight controllers if it had to support both the 1977 ASTP and the horizontal flight tests. The new controllers would receive training to support Space Shuttle testing while veteran controllers supported the 1977 ASTP.

The ASTP Apollo CSM (CSM-111) lifted off on a Saturn IB rocket on 15 July 1975 with astronauts Thomas Stafford, Vance Brand, and Donald Slayton on board. The ASTP Saturn IB, the last rocket of the Saturn family to fly, lifted off from Launch Complex (LC) 39 Pad B, one of two Saturn V pads at Kennedy Space Center, not the LC 34 and LC 37 pads used for Saturn IB launches in the Apollo lunar program. This was because NASA had judged that maintaining the Saturn IB pads for Skylab and ASTP would be too costly. A 'pedestal' (nicknamed the 'milkstool') raised the Skylab 2, 3, and 4 and ASTP Saturn IB rockets so that they could use the Pad 39B Saturn V umbilicals and crew access arm.

Once in orbit, the ASTP CSM turned and docked with the DM mounted on top of the Saturn IB's second stage. It then withdrew the DM from the stage and set out in pursuit of the Soyuz 19 spacecraft, which had launched about eight hours before the Apollo CSM with cosmonauts Alexei Leonov and Valeri Kubasov on board. The two craft docked on 17 July and undocked for the final time on July 19. Soyuz 19 landed on 21 July. The ASTP Apollo CSM, the last Apollo spacecraft to fly, splashed down near Hawaii on 24 July 1975 — six years to the day after Apollo 11, the first piloted Moon landing mission, returned to Earth.

The proposal for a 1977 ASTP repeat gained little traction. Though talks aimed at a U.S. Space Shuttle docking with a Soviet Salyut space station had resumed in May 1975, no plans for new U.S.-Soviet manned missions existed when the ASTP Apollo splashed down. Shuttle-Salyut negotiators made progress in 1975-1976, but the U.S. deferred signing an agreement until after the results of the November 1976 election were known.

In May 1977, the sides formally agreed that a Shuttle-Salyut mission should occur. In September 1978, however, NASA announced that talks had ended pending results of a comprehensive U.S. government review. Following the December 1979 Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, work toward joint U.S.-Soviet piloted space missions was abandoned on advice from the U.S. Department of State. It would resume a decade later as the Soviet Union underwent radical internal changes that led to its collapse in 1991 and the rebirth of the Soviet space program as the Russian space program."

-Article from "No Shortage of Dreams" blog: link

Drew Granston: link

source, source, source

[mercutio-the-velaryon]

Western Mel centric Meljayvik aka Cowboy AU - Pt. 1

Mel Medarda comes to the wild west, a pretty, young cunning thing from a prestigious family, destined for a good marriage, a stable home and a tedious home life. But all that disappears when Ambessa gambles the family's fortune away after the death of Mel's father.

At first they are simply poor, still sheltered by the manor, built by her father's hands, hungry but not starved.

Then Mel comes into some of her inheritance. Ambessa steals it away in the night with the intention of gambling her way back into some wealth.

At the table, Ambessa encounters Dark Lady Leblanc of the Black Rose Crew. The two have a long tainted history dating back to their youth.

In the end, Ambessa wins, but Leblanc refutes. Kino who had followed Ambessa there that night, enters the conflict. Guns are drawn. Dozens of bullet holes are etched into every wall. At least three pierce Kino's heart. He bleeds out on the floor in Ambessa's arms. She wails over his body as the Black Rose make their get away. At sunrise, Ambessa is eerily her quiet her voice warn and flooding with silent tears. She carries her boy home and buries him beneath the oak tree in their backyard. The sheriff refuses to get involved and Ambessa stricken with grief seeks a solution outside the law. One day she walks out of the Medarda family home and she doesn't return.

Mel is 25 when this happens; a grown woman. And yet she feels like a child, hiding beneath her blanket fearing the world outside her family's walls. Waiting for her mother or her brother or her father to waltz back in, and remind her who she is.

News of her mother's leaving spreads through town and boys with rings in their hands stutter out marriage proposals on her doorstep daily. She refutes them all despite them being a guaranteed cure for her lonesomeness but they would do little else, no different from her blanket. And Mel despite her circumstances wasn't easily sated or quelled.

Eventually, wanted posters start showing up around town, a million dollar bounty for Ambessa Medarda a Five hundred thousand dollar bounty for Leblanc.

This was an insult of a great magnitude to the Dark Lady and a mighty fine compliment to the outlaw, thus dubbed Bloodhound Ambessa. Leblanc in an act of vegeance, seizes Ambessa's old property not intending to find anything as valuable as Ambessa's only heir starved and alone and with the stark green eyes of a man she knew long ago, a man she once called friend. She kidnaps Mel with the intention of making a protege out of her, and Mel complies only because she's aware Leblanc is her brother's killer and intends to inact revenge.

After, a month or so, Mel's is a master sharpshooter and ready for the kill, she just needs to configure a plan. Unfortunately for her its all thrown off course when the Black Rose Crew catch wind of Ambessa seizing the settlement of Piltover and planning for war against the crew in order to claim all the lands in the west.

Mel knows she has to stop her mother before all hell breaks loose and chaos reigns so she delays her revenge, escapes the Black Rose Crew and sets out to stop her mother.

She leaves with nothing but the clothes on her back a rifle, a shotgun and a horse called Buttercup.

She heads to Zaun finding lodgings at a hotel thanks to her old friend Elora, a barmaid of the establishment and someone who always keeps their ear to the ground. She offers all the intel on the rising conflicts in the West. She encourages Mel to stay for a week because there's apparently two new players coming around staying at the same lodgings and they're equipped with something that might turn this war into a mass culling. Elora also tells Mel to disguise herself during her stay because she's now a well known outlaw. There are wanted posters around naming her Mel the Melody. Apparently the name came from a myth about her being so sweet and cool when she pulls a gun on you, you hardly know you're being robbed.

Mel then becomes Honey the burlesque dancer as she awaits these so called game changers. They show up. Two regular bright eyed inventors called Jayce Talis and Viktor. Mel notices that the tall one seems taken with her and she can't help but be taken of him, him reminding her of an innocence a childlike wonder she'd thought she'd lost long ago. They talk and talk and talk and drink. And she finds herself looking for him whenever she enters the main hall.

She gets utterly lost in him, for a few days but soon remembers her mission. After one of her shows (that she had been doing to keep up the ruse) they kiss on the porch and sleep together.

He wakes up without her, all his money gone and his invention too. Viktor is livid.

Mel with Jayce and Viktor's prototype device and all their blueprints and notes, skips town.

Desperate to not lose track again, Mel makes all her visits to towns and settlements short. To gain intel has resorted to the method of robbing banks and holding people at gun point demanding money and information. Funnily enough this results in several more run ins with Jayce Talis and Viktor who fume at her every time. They all can't help but become endeared to one another. Despite their obvious grievances. They ask for their work back. She cackles as she rides away.

Mel disrupts several sieges attempted by the Black Rose and the Merciless Medardas as Ambessa's crew came to be known due to the intel she gained on the road.

She runs into Jayce Talis again, frightened and dirty half dead in the desert mumbling nonsense. She can't help but stop for him. He cusses her out. She ignores him and takes him to a house on the outskirts that Elora had made her aware of and cleans him up. He tells her that Viktor was taken by Ambessa because of their invention, she had said that she only needed one scientist and left Jayce out for dead. Mel reveals that Ambessa is her mother. Jayce just laughs. Then he starts to cry and claim that Viktor's going to die because Mel had taken what Ambessa was after.

Mel assures him she's not going to let that happen. She gives him a pistol. Giving him the option to shoot and kill her if he wishes. He does not. They go to sleep, on the same bed laying awkwardly apart. In the morning, they wake up in each other's arms.

When Jayce's eyes flicker open he says "It was nice of you not to rob me blind this time around"

She replies snickering "You can hardly praise me for that there was nothing to take"

They get up, Mel gives Jayce shooting lessons, they steal a horse for him and they head to Piltover.

Mel and Jayce stroll into town together, right into the saloon where the Merciless congregate. There she finds Ambessa playing poker. She demands to know the location of the scientist. Ambessa tries to reconcile but Mel's not having it. Ambessa relents pulls her fingers to her mouth to whistle. Viktor comes out, looking incredibly refined and refreshed.

Jayce and Mel look at each other, confused.

Ambessa says "What you think I'd harm a pretty face, what am I some merciless beast?" she laughs.

Mel looks at her boredly.

she continues, sincerely offended, "I do things with intention, for the sake of my family, for the honour of my family, I do not act needlessly I am not violent needlessly,"

"You left Jayce for dead,"

"Who?"

"The other scientist,"

"For dead is very much alive, if you cannot endure the conditions you committed to by entering the west, you were on a suicide mission anyways, and look he seems fresh as a daisy,"

"You said you act for the honour of our family,"

"I did,"

"What was so honourable about you walking out on me?" Mel argues.

She summons mel to a room to talk in private.

Once there Ambessa speaks,

"I always intended to come back but I could hardly get you involved in this affair, I didn't want you to get hurt"

"Too late,"

"Mel"

"I am not leaving without the scientist"

"Greedy, greedy Mel you already have one what could you possibly want with two" Ambessa laughs.

"I have the prototype and the blueprint of the device, I will hand them over if you give him to me,"

"I have the brute force to just take those things"

"So do it, be as merciless as you say you are,"

Ambessa does not move.

"That's what I thought,"

She storms out, "Get your boy, we gotta go" she huffs at Jayce. He'd stayed near the door his eyes glued to Viktor flicking to Mel when she came into view.

Viktor looks around amongst the crowd of people all quiet and tense.

"Well its has been lovely ladies and gentlemen, feel free to write" Viktor jokes but it doesn't land. Jayce presses his hand to the small of Viktor's back and guides him out.

Its Jayce and Viktor on one horse and Mel on the other, they ride until they get to the outskirts of town.

Mel stops and asks "Where are you two planning on going?"

"Well we were Piltover bound but that plans gone a bit awry," Jayce says. Piltover was Ambessa's land now, backwards and violent, not the land of progress they had hoped it would be.

"You can stay if you want I'm sure it'll be more peaceful and at the very least when the Black Rose Crew come knocking you'll have taken up residence with the winning side"

"What are you going to do?" Jayce asks.

"I'm going to track down my brother's killer and shoot her between the eyes, then I'm gonna save the west from falling into chaos. Well, save it from falling into more chaos"

"I can help," Jayce says mindlessly, his partner anxious behind him.

"You've gotten sweet on me Jayce, I'm more trouble than its worth, besides if you die after I went through all that effort, well I'd bring you back to life and kill you again"

"I suppose we'll head to Zaun then," Viktor hums.

"I'll escort you, I have a friend who can set you up with lodgings"

They ride for a day, set up camp half way through their journey. Jayce crashes and falls a sleep immediately. Viktor and Mel stay up staring into the campfire. Mel sings an old family tune a lullaby her father used to sing.

Viktor with a look of reverance says "Mel the Melody" as if talking to the wind.

"Do you love him?" he says this time to her, undoubtedly, his eyes as flickering as the flame warming them.

"He doesn't irk me, in fact he coaxes me quite easily, cools away the heat of my anger with a look turns it to something as fleeting as amusement, he yelled at me because he blamed me for your kidnapping and I gave him my pistol and taught him how to shoot it, taught him how to kill me and he didn't, but I think I would've if that were me, it makes me shiver with curiousity"

Viktor turns his head away, a small tired smile on his face, "I was afraid you'd say that, but I'm not so afraid now, I think I am glad to meet someone as tormented as I, with the same tormentor at the helm,"

"Does that make us kin then, brothers in arms?"

His eyes drag down her figure, invasive in their search, "No, no but it might make us compatibile"

"Compatible how?"

"Stay with us and find out"

End of Part 1 of my stupid musings

I was just obsessed with the cowboy Mel fan art so now you get this for no reason, I'm not sure what it is.