#they are a convenient storage center

[positively-bratty]

Am I using the underside of my boob to hold my stitch markers while I crochet so I don't lose them?

Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy!

[comicaurora]

Slowly making my way through the TOTK B roll stream, had a few thoughts on the emptiness of the sky islands. In a way, would it not be more surprising if there were more remains to be seen? Ignoring the whole 'it's a game, decisions were made by the developers' bit, nature can take over surprisingly quickly in the right circumstances. In a way, it's more surprising so much survived in BOTW (like the bomb hut ruins. Fire damaged wood? Should be gone in a decade or two anyway). (contd)

So the thing about the Sky Islands in Tears of the Kingdom is that, not only are the ruins fairly well-preserved - presumably due to having been in the Sacred Realm for the last 10,000+ years - but even with them damaged and tumbledown, it's fairly clear from the layout of the islands and their structures that they were not residences. That's not something that would've been lost to erosion and time, that's something foundational to the architecture of the place.

When the game designers want to show a place people live on the surface of Hyrule, they hit a few key points: distinct-looking homes with beds, places that make food, and an inn for travelers. The buildings are different sizes, decorated or personalized by the residents. They're laid out relative to one another in a way that allows for easy, convenient traversal. It's intentional design that makes the villages feel lived-in, cozy, and worth protecting.

Inside the buildings, little details show the presence of living people, even if the building is empty at the time. Table settings, notebooks, pictures on the walls. They feel like they've been shaped by the influence of people, living and working and customizing their environment.

These are all, to be fair, things that we wouldn't expect to last very long if the town fell to ruin. When we explore the sky islands, we aren't expecting to find well-preserved paper maps or notebooks or anything. But if they were lived-in - if they were Zonai population centers rather than temples, ritual centers and factories - that would still be reflected in the basic layout of the structure itself. A residence is designed to accommodate for every basic need, meaning we'd expect the buildings to have places for them to sleep, to eat, and to relax. On the Sky Islands, we find none of these things.

The most common buildings on the sky islands are these isolated stone one-room ruins. They look and feel like storehouses - a few pots, some crumbled masonry. No doors or interior rooms for privacy, no comforts, no sign of a place to sleep, no adjoining buildings. These things were never homes.

The Great Sky Island is the only really plausible candidate for a place the Zonai might've actually lived, being about town-sized with several buildings, but it's not laid out like one. The buildings are either small one-room storage sheds or the massive Temple of Time, and there's no sign of other specialized buildings that could have been used for things like food, rest or other necessities. The Great Sky Island feels like a large, beautiful public park built grafted onto the Temple of Time.

The larger dungeons are more internally complicated, but not in the way that residences are complicated. The water dungeon looks like some kind of huge open park - wide avenues, plazas, devices built for mobility. It feels like a place meant to be traversed and admired, not stayed in.

The wind dungeon is more clearly built as a weapon platform, nowhere we expect people to live. It makes sense that it feels sterile and lifeless.

The larger, more complicated sky islands are also designed for clear utility. The spheres are some sort of celestial observatories, featuring a control system, a treasure chest, and nothing else.

Wildcards like Lightcast Island were clearly built to serve a single purpose - in this case, a lighthouse and attached microdungeon - but contain no signs of life. Zonai came here for a reason, but they didn't stay.

The glide challenge islands are visually impressive, but ultimately the rings are empty - they don't even have structures on them. They exist for the dive challenge and nothing else.

Same deal with the labyrinths, which exist explicitly as puzzles and challenges.

The mines in the depths are also clearly structured for utility - storerooms, construct part repositories and a lot of conveyer belts for moving zoanite. The purpose of the building is very clear just from the layout, and these are not places where anyone was supposed to be staying outside of work hours.

This, along with the layout of towns on the surface, shows that the designers are very good at constructing architecture that reflects the in-story utility of a place, which means the lack of signs of life in the sky islands is not a limitation of the console or the imagination of the artists - it's an intentional design choice.

The end result of all of this? The Sky Islands feel like somewhere that the Zonai built and visited, but not where they lived. They feel cold and unwelcoming and liminal. There's no sense of loss or tragedy, just a feeling of emptiness - people used to come here, but they don't anymore. There's none of the poignancy of an empty dining table's unused place settings or an abandoned child's toy. None of the Sky Islands that descended during the Upheaval were places where the Zonai lived. At the peak of their power they were mistaken for gods, a massively thriving technologically advanced civilization - I'd expect their homes to be cities, towers of jade and marble bustling with the activity of a post-scarcity utopia. None of the Sky Islands show us anything like that, and given how well the designers can portray a lived-in place even without any people in it, this is assuredly intentional. The Zonai built and visited and used the Sky Islands we can explore, but as a whole they lived somewhere else.

But throughout it all, there's this pervading unease - the fact that there's no obvious tragedy makes the sky islands feel more unnerving. We know just enough of the story to infer that something happened to the Zonai - something bad, if we read into Rauru and Mineru's reaction - but whatever it was left no scars. The Zonai constructs don't even realize anything's amiss. The buildings have been damaged only by time and gravity; the forges and mines and observatories and temples are silent and abandoned, like the Zonai all went home one night for dinner and just never came back.

The Sky Islands don't feel dead, they feel lifeless. A place people passed through but didn't leave their mark on. When Link traverses the islands, he isn't just alone - he doesn't even have the comfort of signs of life. The only evidence he has that anyone ever came to these islands are the fact that somebody built them in the first place. They left no marks, no art, no notes, no diaries, no toys, no graffiti. They're just gone.

[ms-demeanor]

my thing is I'm capable of any of this stuff up to at least level 3 and can do them for special occasions and if I've rested enough no problem, but I can't do it OFTEN because it just uses up too many spoons. any thoughts on this? besides practice, I already cook as often as I can (which is not very)

Mise en place your life as much as possible. I've talked about this before but this is what I do to make things easier on myself. My baking station with all the ingredients out and clearly labeled instead of at the bottom of the pantry where I have to dig for them makes it much, much, much easier to bake. My knife strip on the wall and the dozen cutting boards in a rack on the wall and the frying pan that lives on the stove instead of under the counter all make it much easier for me to cook.

Like, a lot of what I've been going through and doing in terms of home improvement/home decor is attempting to configure the house in such a way that large bastard and i can easily do the things we want to/need to do. We need batteries all the time, so the batteries live in an organized box where we can see it instead of in the back of the cabinet. We also need to *discard* batteries all the time, so the battery discard tub is right next to that box otherwise we'll start accumulating used batteries on surfaces.

The instruments that live on my kitchen counter are the ones that get used most often so that I don't need to go looking for them and so that I know at a glance if they're clean (if so they're in the canister on the counter) or need to be washed. The appliances that I use the most either live on the counter or get put places where it's convenient - I don't have enough bowls and plates that I need to use the top three shelves of my cabinet for bowls and plates like my parents did, but I do use my rice cooker twice a week so my rice cooker lives in the same cabinet as my dishes (as does my tofu press, my waffle maker, and the easiest-to-use 16oz food storage containers).

And you know what sometimes i just can't do it. Sometimes my back isn't working or my hip isn't working or i got glutened recently and I can't do much of anything.

I've got a variety of low spoon foods that I always have ingredients for (one recent addition to this list is tofu; i went from eating no tofu to eating tofu twice a week because two days a week i can't really use one of my arms to make dinner so i just prep the tofu at lunchtime and when i get home from the plasma center all i have to do is season and pan fry it and make a pot of rice. And I also make a shitload of extra rice because rice with eggs and sweet-spicy sauce is now one of my easiest and best go-to lunches) and whenever I make a pot of soup (something that I do pretty much every weekend when it's cool enough) I will make enough for lunch that week plus usually some extra to go in the freezer as backup "I don't feel like cooking" meals.

So, yeah I guess what I'm saying is get a good list of low-spoon foods that you like and can keep the ingredients handy for (ground beef goes bad in a week, tofu lasts like a month, i love tofu, it's so easy and so cheap to keep a bunch of tofu handy), and throw out the idea of what a kitchen is "supposed" to be like and figure out if there are ways to make your kitchen more adaptive for you.

Get anti-fatigue mats for your home kitchen. Get a tall stool that you can sit at while cooking at the stove instead of standing. Reorganize your cabinets for maximum efficiency for your needs. (large bastard and I have been doing this both with organized visible storage like wall racks as well as putting his stuff up high because bending over isn't easy for him but it is easy for me).

And also, like, consider if it's worth it, or how it can be worth it. How do you want to be a better cook? Do you want to be better at making meals for large groups or do you want to be more comfortable cooking for yourself or do you want a wider repertoire of recipes - all of those things will take a different path and some will be harder than others if you're wrangling disabilities that make it difficult to cook. I'm probably never going to be great at cooking for large groups because it doesn't really suit my lifestyle and it hurts! It hurts a lot and after hosting thanksgiving last year i needed to use my cane for a week because of how much it hurt my back! But I can work on stuff that makes it easier for me to cook, like having my baking station or keeping my rice cooker in an easy-to-reach cabinet.

[nevertheless-moving]

Stormlight AU Number Three Chapter One, Part One

"Captain? May I speak with you? I had one more thing that I was hoping to discuss. At your convenience, sir."

He turned to see Renarin, still lingering at the edge of the now mostly quiet campfire, stack of clean bowls beside him.

Kaladin barely restrained a sigh of annoyance. He had been planning on checking on the other barrack fires, then maybe getting some actual sleep.

"Of course, Brightlord," he said, stuffing down any irritation.

The prince jumped to his feet, looking nervously at the handful of men, some of whom had pulled out a deck of cards and were either genuinely no longer paying attention to the Brightlord among them, or were doing a very good impression of nonchalance.

Seriously? Kaladin thought, curious despite himself. He just begged to join a darkeyed spear crew, practically in public. Called a shashbranded man 'Sir' in front of a dozen witnesses and the open air. I didn't think he even knew what discretion was.

Kaladin tilted his head to the side, and they moved away from the group, well out of earshot, but Renarin still glanced at the other men in fear.

Talat's sword, the kid was tense as a bowstring again, hands shaking even as they clenched his sides, though they still didn't go for that box of his. A few twisting black spren trailed him. If Kaladin had thought he had been anxious before, then this was a whole other level.

"What do you think it is?" Syl asked, passing overhead, ruffling black and yellow hair. Renarin twitched at the breeze.

"I know some of the other bridgemen were whispering mean stuff about him," she said, examining the prince, "But I don't think he heard, and you said soldiers don't come to their commanding officers about that sort of thing, right? And he looks too scared for that, anyway. Unless they were really being cruel."

With another narrowly repressed sigh, Kaladin led them further away, to an alley between a storage building and an unused barrack, out of both sight and sound.

Something more about his Epilepsy, maybe?

Renarin pulled a sapphire mark out as they left the glow of firelight behind, blue light making the visible tremble of his fingers more obvious. The prince went even further, to the dead center of the alleyway. Even if someone skulking around the corner abandoned all pretenses and pressed an ear to the wall, they would be hard pressed to hear a quiet conversation.

And still, Renarin looked nervously to both of the alley's exits.

Kaladin's heart started to pick up in sympathetic dread. "Soldier?" he finally asked. "You wanted to speak with me?"

The youth flinched, before bowing his head and leaning forward.

"I need your help," he said, staring at the ground.

Kaladin furrowed his brow. "With...?"

"I need your help with—" he cut himself off, seeming to choke on the words. He let out a frustrated sounding grunt.

"We..." The prince opened his mouth, then closed it. His hands also opened and closed at his sides. "You..."

"How— his jaw snapped shut again and even in the low light, Kaladin could see him swallowing several times, before taking a deep breath and setting his jaw.

"You... survived a highstorm. You... healed from that."

Kaladin started at the unexpected line of conversation. Syl crossed her arms in the air, staring Renarin down.

"Yes," he said cautiously. "Not a pleasant experience."

"And you fought off the Parshendi army. When you charged the tower. By yourself."

"My whole bridge fought," Kaladin retorted, slightly offended on their behalf.

Renarin shook his head. "Yes, but you cleared the landing for them. You went ahead. And you won."

Kaladin's heart picked up a bit more.

"Briefly," he said with forced calm. "My men—"

"And you saved my father. From the Parshendi Shardbarer. By yourself... Adolin is still resentful of that, I think."

This time Kaladin said nothing. He hadn't done anything wrong, he reminded himself. Nothing to give away his advantages. His achievements had been unusual, yes. But that was common knowledge. Nothing to panic about when confronted, even by a prince with an unnerving tendency to watch people.

"I wondered... I suspected. But then I saw..."

Renarin looked up, but not at Kaladin. He stared into space, eyes unfocused, then shook his head.

"I saw you breathing in Stormlight," he whispered.

"Oh!" Syl said. "Oh!" She looked at Kaladin, but he wasn't listening to her right now.

A chill ran down Kaladin's spine, and it took everything he had not to move back in the narrow space.

"Breathing in stormlight?" he repeated after a moment, trying to sound confused. Trying, at least, not to sound afraid.

Brightlord Renarin's eyes snapped to his and now he found it very easy to hold himself in place. He didn't think he could move, chill down his back having hardened to ice.

"I saw you. And then I saw it — and I saw it again. A faint glow...you're a surgebinder. I know it. I saw it." The Brightlord's stare, somehow, grew even more intense.

Oh. It's over. It's all over.

"Kaladin! Kaladin!" Syl floated before his face, between Renarin and himself. "It's going to be okay! We like Renarin, remember? Try and calm down — just, just listen to him, alright? I have a good feeling about this."

"I..." Kaladin cleared the sudden dryness from his throat, clenching his hands into fists to try and control his abrupt, almost painful shivers. When had the night grown so storming cold? Why was the cold making it hard to breathe? "Who else knows?"

"No one!" the prince assured him quickly. "I wouldn't — I know it's a secret."

That softened a fraction of the crushing tightness in his chest. But only a small amount.

"What do you want?" Kaladin managed to get out. "What do you want from me?"

"I need help," Brightlord Renarin said, hands coming together in front of him, thumbs shifting end over end. "Please... I. Please. You have a spren. The assassin didn't, but you do. She looks like a windspren, but she's something else, right? Something more."

The weight, impossibly, redoubled on his chest. He sucked down a breath, then struggled to take in another.

I knew it. I knew it.

"Kaladin! Kaladin can you hear me?" Syl said, from very far away.

I knew they'd try and take her from me.

He saw the Brightlord 's terrible blue eyes as if from the end of a tunnel, looming above him. At some point he had stumbled back, the soulcast stone wall frigid behind him.

He couldn't fight. If he killed a third dahn, even if he could bring himself to kill Dalinar's son, he'd never know peace again. Bridge four would never know peace. He couldn't attack the prince, who was under Kaladin's protection, possibly twice.

He couldn't run. His men were here. He wouldn't be able to get to them all, not before they came after him.

He couldn't fight. He couldn't run.

He couldn't — he couldn't — he looked desperately for Syl.

She hovered over him, tears in her eyes, mouth moving silently.

He couldn't protect her.

The tunnel closed in around him.

...

"...says this weird shade of orange is the next big color—"

Kaladin blinked in bewilderment. He turned to see Prince Renarin next to him, talking nonsense.

"—but honestly the fabric swatches give me a headache..."

He glanced towards Syl, searching for an explanation, but she seemed enthralled, laying on her front in the air, heels kicked up behind her.

"I hope he moves on as fast from this as he did yellow. He still can't make up his mind about Takamas, though he pretends that..."

There was about two week's worth of pay between them. Two weeks worth of pay for him now, as head of the cobalt guard. A small fortune. Pocket change to a prince.

"Why," Kaladin said, too confused to be anything but blunt, "are you sitting on the ground next to me, talking about fashion?"

The prince startled, scrambling halfway up before kneeling back down, level with Kaladin.

They were on the ground. Why were they on the ground...in an alley?

"I'm sorry!" the youth said. "It's what Adolin does when I... when the world is too much and I leave my head. I wasn't sure what else to do."

Kaladin felt slightly dizzy. He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself involuntarily. Hazy dread started creeping back towards him, like fronds after a storm.

"I'm sorry," Renarin whispered again. "I've done this all wrong. I should have started by showing you, but I was too scared. I'll show you now."

He fumbled with the sphere, in his hand, bringing it close to his face. Then he took a deep breath.

And the light from the sphere went alongside.

Kaladin gaped as the prince glowed in the dark alley.

"I'm a surgebinder too," he said, light escaping quickly as he spoke. "I'm not trying to take your spren, I swear. I'm came to ask your help with mine, and for your help controlling my abilities." He glanced down, and it occurred to Kaladin he might be looking at something, someone, Kaladin couldn't see.

"Glys says that he thinks there's something wrong with him, that my powers are manifesting differently then he thinks he was expecting. I've told him that it's probably me, that I tend to mess things up, but he seemed sure that something happened to him, even if he can't quite remember...and I realized that you..."

He turned watery blue eyes towards Kaladin. "I'm sorry to bother you. There's not a lot of people I can ask for help with this. Please...if you can help him. Help us."

"Oh," Kaladin said, feeling strange. "You're like me."

Renarin blushed, staring at his lap, face illuminated by the last wisps of light escaping his skin. "I'm really not. I'm not a warrior, I can't even wield a Shardblade without..."

Syl hissed beside him.

"I don't like Shardblades," Kaladin said innanely. "I mean, I thought it was because of the death I had seen them deal, but Syl hates them worse than anything."

"I... hear something when I hold mine. Screaming. It hurts. It hurts Glys too, I'm pretty sure, though he won't admit it. I thought it was hallucinations at first, but..."

"I don't — Hm. Actually, I couldn't actually bring myself to touch one, when I had a chance," Kaladin said quietly. "If you want, I suppose, you could summon yours, and I could try to touch it, and if I hear something too, then..."

He regretted the offer almost as soon as he made it but...there was someone like him. A lighteyes, but still.

Renarin sat back, closing his eyes. He reached his hand out to the side, turning away as if braced for blow. He winced when the blade finally dropped into his hands, gritting his teeth.

"It's terrible," Syl whispered. "It's...it makes me angry, so angry, but also...sad?"

Kaladin forced himself to reach forward, not wanting to prolong Renarin's obvious pain. He felt the same as he did every time he saw one of the things, no matter from how far away — that same sense of wrongness, of concentrated injustice. He carefully touched the flat of the blade, and...

Screaming.

He could hear screaming. Inside his head. Syl! She was dying!

It reverberated through Kaladin. His muscles spasmed as that horrible, awful screech shook through him. He pulled back, gasping, looking frantically for Syl. She was crying, and he reached for her with trembling hands, even though he knew they wouldn't be able to touch. She stumbled towards him.

Renarin dismissed the blade, slumping in relief. "So you hear it too."

"Storms! What was that? How did you stand bonding with it?" He cradled Syl in both hands, almost able to feel her, soft as a breeze on his palms.

"It...was a really bad week."

Kaladin barked out a laugh, then pulled himself together.

"Well, either we're both crazy, or...it's a Radiant thing. Something to do with the Recreance, I'd guess."

The corners of Renarin's lips twitched up slightly as he nodded. "That's...I'm truly sorry, I know that was terrible, but it's such a relief —"

"No, I get it —" The cold, the earlier misplaced terror was ebbing in away. Even that horrible scream. In its place, was a feeling that he could best describe as relief. "It's — it feels good to not be alone."

Renarin hummed softly, nodding vigorously in agreement, then tucked his chin to his chest.

If he had to pick a lighteyes to become a surgebinder... well, Renarin was probably the best choice, the least likely to misuse his power of anyone of his class that Kaladin had met. Bizarrely humble, despite his proximity to the throne. It could be a lie of, course, but he didn't seem to have the...entitlement that led other lighteyes into casually committing horrors.

Kaladin studied the prince. At some point he had pulled out that box of his, and was turning it end over end in shifting patterns. Renarin looked up, met Kaladin's eyes, then quickly looked back down, blushing.

Storms, had he really been scared off this man?

Dalinar, an honorable lighteyes if one existed, could be frightening, exuding the sense that he expected the world to move to suit his needs. Zahel may have had a point about Renarin's character, not to mention his willingness to come here the way he did, rather than demand answers on his own turf...

And a radiant Spren chose him, too. Surely, that had to be a good sign, if nothing else? Then again, Syl chose me, so who knows.

"I also forgot a lot," Syl said, and Renarin turned to look at her, eyes wide.

"Oh! You're —"

"Slyphrena," she said, smiling, standing proud on Kaladin's hand. "Honorspren, though I didn't remember that part until kind of recently. I just thought I was a weird windspren, that is when I could string two thoughts together!"

She turned into mist, sneaking up Renarin's arm like clouds over a mountain range.

"Where's your spren? What type are they anyway? They're not a cryptic, are they? Come on, it's been ages since I had someone intelligent to talk to who wasn't a windspren."

Kaladin rolled his eyes.

"Glys?" Renarin asked softly. There was a long pause. "He — uh. He's too nervous to come out right now."

The syl cloud paused at Renarin's shoulder, then shifted back into her female form.

"Huh!" she said. "So he's like you!"

Renarin let out a bemused huff of air. "Yes, yes he is. I thought that might also be a radiant thing, since we're bonded, but..." He looked out of the side of his eyes at Syl who was sitting on nothing, swinging her legs, then back at Kaladin, who quickly tried to school his resting features into something not a scowl.

"This... this is exactly the type of thing I wanted to talk to you about," Renarin said. "There's books on Radiants, but I don't think I could have them all read to me without word spreading. I've been mixing them in with other random subjects, but I don't know what would happen if this got out. The ardents already mutter about my cousin and my father committing heresy, and I'm not nearly as, uh, established as them."

Kaladin nodded, eagerness surprising himself. But damn it, Renarin had asked for his help, and it would be good to talk with someone who knew how Stormlight felt in their veins, maybe spar, if he could get Renarin a different weapon.

Renarin might not be as stocky as his brother and father, but he must exercise, as he clearly had some amount of lithe muscle, now that Kaladin looked closer. He wasn't as young as Kaladin had first thought, and his height would give him reach. How much of his perceived frailness was just because of his family's shadow? How much of his martial ability had been held back by his Epilepsy, now no longer a problem? How much had that sword held him back, once he had the chance to actually fight?

"I train with stormlight sometimes, in the chasms," Kaladin said. "When I can get away. Sigzil, Rock, and Lopen help. If you can convince your father to actually serve on a spear crew, then next time I'll have you join us — the other men might mutter about you getting special training, but well..."

"I'll live. Though I was being honest when I said I wanted to be a soldier, or something close to one."

"I believe you. We'll figure something out — it's not as though my duties allow me to get away often. Most of the time you'll be cleaning boots and drilling spear forms, don't worry."

Renarin nodded, hands turning the box over. "So... those three, they know about you? Who else?"

"All of bridge four," Kaladin admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Or the ones who were there when I charged the tower, anyway...there wasn't really away to keep it secret after that. I was terrified that someone in your army would see. Plus Shen, he was there when I talked more about more powers around the first stew in this camp. Not any of Lopen's cousin's, I don't think. Or the injured recruits. Just the original bridge four, and... now you."

"Oh..."

They sat in silence, Renarin twisting his box around. Kaladin grew briefly distracted following the lines.

"I'm sorry," the prince finally said. "I know you wouldn't have wanted any lighteyes to know. It's one of the reasons I didn't say anything to you when I just had suspicions. I'm truly sorry to have alarmed you like that, I wasn't expecting..." Renarin continued twisting pieces about in an oddly soothing way. "But if I thought someone was coming after Glys... Brightlords have taken a lot from you, haven't they?"

Kaladin grimaced but didn't say anything. He forced himself to look away from the box, he didn't want Renarin to think he was staring. The prince was very perceptive, sometimes.

They sat in silence for a longer time.

"Should I tell bridge four about me?" Renerin asked eventually.

"It's up to you. They're good men, but I understand if its a bit soon for you."

Another long silence. The men were probably wondering what had happened to them, the ones who hadn't gone out for drinks, anyway.

"I don't think I want to, not yet. My abilities... they frighten me." The prince's fingers tightened around the metal cube, knuckles growing white.

"What... what are your abilities? I know there were different orders, which could do different things..."

"Truthwatcher," Renarin whispered. "Or so Glys tells me."

"Windrunner."

A small red light pulsed beneath Renarin's shirt, quickly winking out, and the prince wrinkled his brow. "Huh. Glys is surprised by that for some reason."

"I'm the only Honorspren," Syl said quietly. "The only one who would come. The rest — I can't remember, but they're not here. There were...others. Other types of spren who came through, but not ones like me." She ran her fingers through her hair in an oddly human gesture of frustration.

Renarin forced his shoulders back, tension returning. Kaladin waited while he arranged his thoughts, in the mean time letting himself enjoy watching the shapes that Renarin unconsciously formed and dissolved out of the box's rows.

"I'm not completely sure what I can do. I can grow things. There were some seeds in one of my meals and — they grew, as if a weeping passed in a minute. Some rockbuds outside my window did too. Glys thinks I might be able to do that for people, but I haven't really had the chance to try."

Kaladin's jaw dropped and he couldn't help but reach for the prince, stopping himself just before he grabbed the man's shoulder's. "That's incredible! With stormlight — you could prevent famines with that! And people — you mean you think you could heal?"

Renarin nodded, a few shockspren breaking around him.

"That's incredible," he said, giving into the urge to shake the man's shoulders. "Renarin, that's amazing!"

The prince blinked rapidly, cheeks and ears darkening. "Really? I mean can't Windrunners — you can fly can't you?"

"I haven't... figured out flying. I assumed it was impossible, before I saw the Assassin. But I did figure out wall walking, just earlier today, and I think I can see how that would turn into — it wouldn't really be flying, just sort of...falling sideways. I think I could do it, with practice."

"Wow."

Kaladin shook his head. "People don't appreciate healing as much as they should. My father trained me as a surgeon —"

A wave of melancholy hit him, as it often did when he thought of home.

"That makes a lot more sense then field medicine training that would cover epilepsy."

Kaladin smiled. "Anyway. If you could heal like the Radiants from myths could...I can't express how incredible that would be. The growing crops by itself is..."

Renarin smiled shyly, looking pleased, and Kaladin pressed one last time on both shoulders before drawing back.

"That's not... the only thing I do." The prince looked down. "The other thing I do — well. It feels more like it happens to me, actually. I've been pretending it's my epileptic fits but those actually stopped around when I bonded with Glys."

"I stick rocks together," Kaladin offered. Renarin cocked his head, peeking up through his lashes, and Kaladin sighed. He breathed in a small amount of light, picking up a pebble, then pressed it to the wall.

"Oh!" Renarin said, scrambling to look. "Wow!" He reached for it, but the pebble fell almost immediately.

"Eh. I've tried using it sparring, and honestly its easier just to fight normally."

"But maybe with practice..."

"Maybe. I've gotten some use out of it, but it's not quite as exciting as walking on walls, or as useful as growing crops."

Renarin scrubbed a hand across his face. "My other thing. It's not boring... it's bad. It's. Pretty bad." He breathed out slowly, closing his eyes, and drawing his knees up to his chest.

"Do you ever... get highstorm visions? Like my father?" the prince asked, not opening his eyes.

"A few times," Kaladin said, just as quietly. "You?"

Renarin nodded, than shook his head. "Mine are...different," he said grimly. "And they don't always happen during storms." His hands picked at the cuffs of his pants, then worked to follow the seams of his shining leather boots.

Kaladin waited, but it didn't seem like the prince was going to keep going without Kaladin giving something.

"Mine aren't like your father's either. I understand those are of the past, mine...it's like I was the high storm, I could see the continent moving beneath me. The last was when the assassin came. I...the Stormfather, I think it was him, said 'he was coming.'

Renarin jerked to face him, his eyes opening wide, alight with...hope? "You mean you saw the future?"

Kaladin recoiled on instinct, and he could see the spark die in Renarin's eyes.

Oh. Oh.

"You could call it that," Kaladin said carefully. "Though I feel the Assassin was already, uh, fairly present. More like a warning from an ally, although I don't think the stormfather actually likes me."

He didn't want to talk about the Stormfather's accusations about killing Syl. He hadn't even talked to Syl about that.

"He said he was sorry about 'him' coming," Kaladin explained. "And I didn't see the assassin but – Um. Do you..."

Renarin nodded, shoulders slumping and head curling down. It was hard to see, shadowed as he was, but his eyes looked open now, watery and looking into nothingness.

"The images don't always make sense in the moment. At first I thought it was just...madness. The things I see...it would be better if it was just madness. But they always come true. Always."

An agony spren appeared from the ground, reaching for the hem of the prince's pants. Another followed close behind.

Kaladin sat thinking, not wanting to reply hastily and make things worse again.

"Can you guess what my men said, after they found out what I could do?" Kaladin asked slowly.

Renerin shook his head, but the agonyspren at least faded.

"I was terrified that they would think it was alarming. Unnatural. I thought I was cursed for a while...and Skar said, "If it helps you survive, it’s good. That’s all that needs to be said about it." And...that was that."

Renarin clutched his knees closer, starting to rock slightly. "I don't know if my powers can do that," he whispered. "It feels like the visions can't be changed. I don't know how to change them, I barely understand what half of them mean, not until it's too late."

"Maybe...that's part of why there are so many warnings about being wary of telling the future?" Kaladin said. "It would be easy to think they're guarantees, and set yourself up for failure, but if they're more like highstorm predictions..."

"You think?"

Kaladin shrugged helplessly. "I honestly don't know. But I realized that this — what I can do, what we can do — it's not evil, and its not a curse. So... maybe the legends of telling the future are like the stories of the radiants turning against mankind. Too much time has passed, and everything we know now is confused."

"Hm. I don't know," Syl said doubtfully. "I still feel like predicting the future is weird and dangerous."

"Syl!" Kaladin hissed, while Renarin curled in tighter, rocking staying the same speed.

"But," she said, putting her hands on her hips and rolling her eyes, "I like you Renarin, and I'm a tiny piece of God with impeccable taste, so you can't be evil."

Kaladin slapped a hand to his face, but Renarin seemed to unfold at that, blinking rapidly.

"Really? Glys says as far a spren go, you're the ones that are pure Honor."

"Obviously," she said, sounding for all the world like a stuck up lighteyes.

"And you — you like me? You... think I have honor?"

She squinted at him, and he straightened like a soldier awaiting inspection.

"Yep!" She said finally. "You're not as good as my human obviously —"

"Syl," Kaladin hissed again, flushing, but Renarin just nodded.

"—But I like you, so you must be honorable. And my Kaladin can be weird and dangerous, too, so it's probably fine."

"That's—" Kaladin started to protest, but saw how inexplicably cheered Renarin looked and decided to let it go.

"We should probably get back to the others," Kaladin said finally. A wave of exhaustion hit him, and he stumbled to his feet. Storms, he felt like he had just run a marathon. He brushed off flakes of dried crem from the back of his uniform.

Renarin clambered up after him, and he looked...lighter. His hands twisted over the box, but they weren't shaking. He smiled widely at Kaladin, teeth showing, genuine relief and joy and hope crinkling the corners of his eyes. Kaladin couldn't help but pause and smile back.

"You — you won't tell anyone? About me?" Kaladin blurted out, before they fully left the alley. He just — he had to be sure.

Renarin nodded furiously.

"And I won't tell bridge four about you," Kaladin promised in return. "Not until you ready, but... they might guess, if we keep meeting."

"I understand," Renarin said, expression earnest. "And...I really want to talk more. This...just this meant a lot."

"And maybe..." Renarin looked at Syl, then his voice dropped to a hopeful whisper. "If Glys is willing to talk to Syl, they could try and work on the gaps in their memory together, about where they came from."

Kaladin nodded slowly. Storms, I didn't even think... if it could help Syl... maybe I can move the schedule around so I guard Renarin in the evenings, so we can have more time for them to figure it out.

"Thank you," Kaladin said, reaching out a hand and grasping Renarin's shoulder. "I know it wasn't easy coming to me like this."

Renarin ducked his head, tips of his ears red. "Thank you for hearing me out. Sorry I... startled you."

Kaladin rubbed the bridge of his nose. Startled. That was one word for it. A few shamespren fell. Almighty, what would have happened if he had frozen up like that in a fight? He shook away the thought, he couldn't remember ever losing himself like that, it was likely a bizarre and unpleasant fluke.

Though some of his memories of being the wretch were a haze... Regardless, it was probably why he felt so tired now. That and perhaps the lack of sleep.

They left the alley to find Torfin waiting around the corner; Renarin and Kaladin both froze on seeing him.

He saluted, looking guilty. "Sir! Apologies for eavesdropping, Drehy and I were assigned to guard Prince Renarin tonight, and when you and he didn't return, we grew concerned. I moved away as soon as I could tell that...uh. A guard was not needed."

Kaladin crossed his arms, scowling, and Torfin fidgeted, not meeting his eyes.

"...What did you hear?"

"Very little Captain, I swear! The prince wanted to talk more, then mumbles, then you thanked him, then I left, I promise!"

Kaladin relaxed. "I believe you Torfin, and I'm not upset, you were doing your job."

"Of course, sir!"

"I can—" a wave of exhaustionspren fluttered up around him and he staggered; Renarin reached out to steady him.

"You've been working two, possibly three shifts in a row?" Renarin murmured. "Torfin and Drehy can escort me back. We can, uh —" He glanced nervously at Torfin, still standing at attention. "We can talk more another time."

Kaladin nodded, and Renarin let him go.

Getting to his bed was a blur; he was fairly sure he at least mumbled goodnight to the men still by the fire, but couldn't be certain.

"There's someone like me," he whispered to Syl, pulling his boots (not as nice as his old ones) off, barely mustering up the energy to trade his uniform for more comfortable sleep trousers. Storms, it felt good to change clothes at the end of the day. The little things bridgecrew makes you appreciate.

"And there's someone like me!" Syl said, twirling happily. He smiled at her, then was out before his head hit the pillow.

[scarletfish]

microdosing on posting snippets from my raven!neil fic here because nanowrimo is killing me dead 🙃

Fic summary:

Nathaniel has grown up knowing he has two options upon turning 18: stay at Evermore and play for the Ravens through college, or allow the Hatfords to pay off his debts and claim him as one of their own. Nathaniel isn’t interested in leaving Exy (or Jean) for the faceless evil that sent his mom running to the Butcher of Baltimore. 

But then Kevin’s stunt with the Foxes upends Nathaniel's world, and a third option opens up.

***

cw: canon-typical violence, references to and brief discussions of abuse/torture (but nothing on-screen)

outtake is from chapter 1, enjoy!

word count: 827

***

November

“Get him out of here,” Nathaniel snarls.

“Nice to see you too, Wesninski.”

Kevin is predictable to a fault and easy to corner after evening drills. The extra, invitation-only practice comprises a smaller group of upperclassmen, and Kevin insists on being the last to leave the court. Nathaniel planted himself on a storage cabinet just out of sight for the rare privilege of seeing Kevin flinch when he rounded the corner. 

Fresh from the showers, he has a towel draped around his shoulders. His wet hair is already combed perfectly into place, tattoo gleaming against his flushed cheeks. He does not look happy to see Nathaniel. 

He can get over himself – Nathaniel has worked himself into a burning rage while waiting, and he’s ready to light something on fire.

“Do we have to do this right now?” Kevin asks tiredly, dropping his soggy towel on Nathaniel’s sneakers and turning to rummage in his locker. 

Nathaniel kicks the towel at Kevin’s back and slams a fist into the nearest locker – a poor substitute for Kevin’s face. “Riko is out of control,” he says fiercely. “Jean is sobbing on the floor of our bathroom because he tried to turn the shower on. Is there a more convenient time that you’d like to pencil this conversation in?”

Kevin turns and catches the towel, leveling Nathaniel with a hard, weary look. “I don’t know what you expect me to do about that. Tell him to take a sponge bath. We’re all just trying to survive the year.” He reaches neatly around Nathaniel to access the laundry chute, withdrawing quickly before Nathaniel can do something feral like bite off a finger. 

The only thing that stops Nathaniel from trying is the shifty look in Kevin’s eyes and the way his shoulder jumps up in a half-aborted shrug. He’s hiding something.

“Bullshit. Tell me what’s going on, Kev. Something happened between you and Riko in Atlanta. He’s been escalating ever since, and I can’t– I can’t protect us if I don’t know what it is. Did you say something to him?" Kevin is so tense he looks like he's going to explode, which means if Nathaniel pushes just a bit harder... "Piss in his cereal? Jostle the stick up his–”

“I put my ego above my loyalties,” Kevin says. A shudder runs through him at the admission. “I am his partner and his– his second, and I have betrayed that trust.”

Nathaniel, who was not expecting to get an answer that easily, if at all, stares blankly. What the hell is he talking about?

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I– the drills we’ve been practicing with the team–,” Kevin mutters, as if even he is still trying and failing to piece together the full picture of Riko’s fury, “I guess I picked them up faster, or… I’ve been speaking too much in team meetings, stepping out of line…” he stumbles around the truth at the center of his words like it might burn him. 

“Hang on– are you telling me this is about, what, your stats? He’s mad that you’re outperforming him in practice?”

Nathaniel tries to reconcile the uncertain boy in front of him with the man who scored from center court and then chewed out the son of a hedge fund manager until he cried for not being three feet to the left to receive a pass. “Jesus, just take a few nights off, or– or take this shit to Tetsuji, I’m sure he’d love to hear how his nephew is dragging the team down with him for his pride. Why are you just sitting on this?”

Kevin is done explaining though. When he speaks, his voice is steel, and the glint in his eyes puts a pit in Nathaniel’s stomach. 

“It is after curfew and Jean is waiting. Go back to your room, Nathaniel.” 

Nathaniel’s jaw tightens. “You aren’t just sitting on this, are you? You have a plan.”

Of course he would decide to stand his ground now. Where was this conviction when Riko started spiking their food? When he broke Jean’s fingers, or carved into Nathaniel’s skin for the first time? He’s spent nearly a decade wishing Kevin would grow a spine – now he’s ready to snap it in half.

“I’m through bleeding for you, watching Jean bleed for you,” he threatens, pushing off the counter and taking a step toward Kevin, voice rising. “You promised me more than this. You owe me.” 

Kevin makes an irritated shushing noise. “Be quiet. This is not–” he glances impatiently at the clock above the door, “Do not ask this of me right now.”

“Fuck you, I’m asking,” Nathaniel snaps, not bothering to lower his voice. They have bigger problems than getting caught breaking curfew. 

“Shut up,” Kevin hisses, jerking a hand towards Nathaniel’s mouth. He freezes awkwardly just before making contact, dropping his gaze briefly to the lingering bruises on Nathaniel’s throat, the pink scars curving up from his shoulder blades to poke out his shirt collar. “Do you have a death wish?” he asks stiffly.

“Yes,” Nathaniel says coldly, “I wish you were dead.” He stares until Kevin drops his hand.

***

(oh, the angst. to be clear I love Kevin dearly. if i missed any cws above, please let me know!)

[school-of-roses]

Introduction to Altars

Altars are generally where you will do most of your working as a witch, but they aren’t a necessary part of your craft.  If you don’t want to have one, you don’t have to.  They are more than anything else, acquired out of want or convenience.  They make a good place to put your supplies and create an atmosphere within your home.  You hear about them fairly frequently within the community so this document will endeavour to help explain them, or otherwise help you put your own together!

Altar Etiquette

Alter etiquette mostly revolves around how you should interact with another witch’s altar.  Most of this is easily helped by consent, but it might not be immediately obvious that doing something like taking a photograph or picking up something off another witch’s altar would be frowned upon.  Oftentimes an altar has a lot of significance to a witch, everything might have been placed in a very specific way.  Sometimes people don’t mind, but it’s always better to ask first!

Constructing an Altar

Constructing your own altar can be done by a few methods.  From purely intuitive to more planned for best associations methods like putting objects associated best with the elements in their respective cardinal directions.

Intuitive Method

The intuitive method is about as straightforward as it sounds.  You get what feels right to you personally.  This can involve placing certain stones or flowers on the altar that seem to mesh with what you want the general vibe to be.

Directional Association

Taking a directional association is usually going to involve finding the cardinal directions or picking a part of your home that already falls under them, for example setting up at your most northern facing wall.

Using an Altar Cloth

An altar cloth similar to a table cloth in that it is used both to protect the table from things like spills and damage as well as acting as a decoration.  Some altar cloths come with instructions or designs that imply where certain objects should be placed.  These are found across different rituals, cultures, and religions.

Uses for an altar A few notes to help you get started!

Offerings

An altar is a good place for leaving offerings whether this be to gods, fae, or local spirits alike.  Usually placed in a vessel called an offering dish, offering plate or offering bowl.  This doesn’t have to be on the altar, and if you’d prefer to have it somewhere else, that’s also fine, but this is a very common place for it to be kept.  Often this comes with the idea that the being you are leaving an offering to is blessing your altar and it’s purposes.

Spellwork

Most of your spellwork is going to be conducted at your altar, especially things regarding the home and yourself.  All of your tools are easy to use and in one place, so this acts as both an area to help ground and amplify spellwork as well as a convenience.

Charging Objects

Setting objects on your altar is a known way to charge them.  Where some witches will put objects in the sun or moonlight, burn objects, or charge things otherwise, you might place something on your altar in order to let it acquire energy from the area around you.  Your altar tends to be your magical center, so the flow of energy would theoretically bring it charge.  Otherwise if you also put charged crystals on your altar periodically this effect could be amplified.

Affecting the Atmosphere of the Home

Another reason for an altar is having it act as spellwork in and of itself.  Decorating or otherwise arranging your altar be it per season or for certain effects could turn the whole thing into one large house spell.  You put your intent into your arrangement.

Storage

Perhaps the most practical use for an altar, it could very well just be an aesthetically pleasing place to keep your tools, objects, and materials.  A lot of the time when we choose things, it’s because we enjoy the feeling of them.  Having things we like around can just be largely pleasant while also keeping it all in one convenient place where we can find them.

[mariacallous]

Last week, Elon Musk rebranded Twitter as “X.” New CEO Linda Yaccarino tweeted that X would be “centered in audio, video, messaging, payments/banking,” a step toward Musk’s vision of creating the “everything app” for the Western world. Musk has been focused on this vision for Twitter since before he even bought it, repeatedly praising the Chinese app WeChat in a June 2022 town hall at Twitter. WeChat is known for doing virtually anything an app can do—messaging, audio/video, meetings, translation, social networking, shopping, payments, ride sharing, food delivery, and more. It’s an indispensable app in China, and Musk wants to build X into that app in the United States.

Musk has been laser-focused on his vision of the everything app for longer than most realize. He’s also long been obsessed with the letter X—he named his original online bank X.com, founded SpaceX, and even named his son “X Æ A-12.” His X-ray vision, if you’ll forgive the pun, dates back to his founding of the original X.com. Musk described that firm, which would eventually merge with Confinity to form PayPal, as a “global financial nexus” that could handle bank accounts, mortgages, credit, insurance, stocks—anything and everything financial.

On the face of it, none of this seems unreasonable. Such an app would be one of the most valuable companies in the world if it succeeded. It’s a tall task, but Musk has been involved in the founding of three separate multibillion-dollar companies. WeChat (along with competitors such as AliPay) has proven that such apps can reach scale and be wildly successful. And WeChat was initially built on the back of parent company Tencent’s popular social network, QQ. If it can be done, why not Musk? And why not start with Twitter?

Unfortunately for Musk, his vision of creating a Western WeChat is doomed to failure. Companies like Meta and Alphabet have made attempts before. These companies have every advantage—more cash available than Musk, larger pools of technical talent, better public reputation, and more successful lines of business in the app ecosystem. Nevertheless, none have succeeded in building an everything app. WeChat exists in a very specific Chinese context, and attempts to brute force it in a very different context will crash and burn.

The most important function of an aspiring everything app is payments, which unlock enormous value for the app and convenience for the user. But mobile payments in China are an outlier—87 percent of Chinese people used mobile payments in 2021, almost double the next highest nation. And that outlier status comes from the unique way that China’s payment economy developed.

China’s explosive economic growth over the 2000s saw the country transition from being a mostly unbanked, cash-based economy to a phone-based, app-payment economy without ever having a middle phase of adopting credit cards. As China’s new middle class grew, credit cards were available to a limited upper class—but never became a commonplace part of national financial infrastructure.

What China did have was a lot of cheap smartphones. By the early 2010s, most people there still didn’t have a PC, but they had a mobile phone, and increasingly they were switching to cheap smartphones. But those smartphones were mostly low-end products, with limited processing power and storage space. A high number of bloated apps wasn’t going to cut it for an average user, so many basic functionalities began to cluster inside a small number of super-apps. With the public hungry to abandon cash, apps like WeChat were the natural and widespread solution. Most vendors didn’t have existing relationships with payment companies. But they were happy to jump all the way to taking mobile payments—especially since all they needed to do so was a cheap smartphone, not an expensive terminal. China essentially leapfrogged credit cards all the way to mobile payment.

The United States in 2023 is not in that same position. Americans, for the most part, are not newly middle class and unbanked. Americans love credit cards, have deep experience with them, and use them regularly. And the country is filled with an enormous number of financial firms competing at every level—banking services, credit services, payment apps, stock brokerages, and more. Musk’s X will be entering a far more crowded and competitive market for customers who are already using far better and more developed alternatives.

Competitive is the key word there, because there are many Western companies that would have loved to compete with apps such as WeChat. But China’s government long ago banned nearly every non-Chinese alternative to native Chinese apps in areas including social media, video sharing, messaging, news, search, finance, and more. The list of apps banned in China is so extensive that it’s likely faster to point out the few that aren’t banned.

With so much of the competition absent, it was much easier for Chinese apps to dominate many fields at once as Chinese internet adoption skyrocketed. The Chinese government mostly didn’t pick favorites domestically at first—but it kept out foreign competition and let domestic products thrive. Twitter/X doesn’t live in that same world. The U.S. government won’t protect Musk from competition.

One of the ironies in all this is that the window to develop an everything app may be over in China as well, as the Chinese government’s approach to the tech sector has changed. During China’s boom years, the state often took a laissez-faire approach to tech regulation. The Hu Jintao government and even the early Xi Jinping years saw a booming economy, where tech companies were allowed to grow rapidly and dominate markets as long as they cooperated with censorship, handed over information to the government, and paid off the right people. Analyst XiaoFeng Wang explicitly links this flexible environment with WeChat’s growth, saying, “The more flexible regulatory environment in China at the time gave internet companies like Tencent and Alibaba more room to extend to a wide range of businesses. WeChat benefited from that and grew into a super-app.”

But the Chinese government has grown deeply worried about the power of the super-apps, for both good and bad reasons. Any power that does not reside directly in the party’s hands is distrusted at a time when Xi has demanded total party leadership of everything—and the influence and reach of tech companies has been sharply curtailed in the last few years, wiping billions off their value. Chinese regulators were also genuinely worried about the sheer degree of anti-competitive practices. It had become common, for instance, for firms to block links to their competitors’ products. Breaking down those “walled gardens” has become a major part of regulation since 2021.

Building a super-app would be hard in China today—and even harder in the United States or Europe, with their anti-monopoly legislation and political skepticism toward powerful tech companies. Even if Musk’s X could theoretically succeed, it probably wouldn’t be allowed to do so legally.

Yet paradoxically, while regulators raised eyebrows, elements of the Chinese government also welcomed the opportunities that WeChat and other ubiquitous apps offered. Chinese firms exist at the pleasure of the state and are always subordinate partners to it. WeChat’s parent company, Tencent, is well known for collaboration with the Chinese Communist Party in areas large and small, producing sycophantic patriotic games and engaging in widespread censorship and espionage. Foreign Policy has reported that Tencent was even partially funded by the Ministry of State Security in its early days.

These incidents highlight why an app such asWeChat would be permitted to thrive—because it’s useful to the party. In the James C. Scott sense, WeChat increases the legibility of Chinese society. You can’t control what you can’t see, so make sure you can easily see everything. If all of Chinese daily life is funneled through a single portal, it’s that much easier for the party to observe and control lives. Monitoring a single WeChat account could allow police to see an individual’s travel patterns, spending, and social contacts, which is why many dissidents or activists avoid using the app when possible.

Chinese consumers have become more privacy-conscious about the data they hand over to companies—but are hopeless or unaware of the amount of information the government can get from them. Western companies hoping to emulate WeChat not only don’t have the government on their side, but also face a much tougher and more skeptical audience. And in Musk’s case, who—apart from the most ardent of fans—is going to trust him with their money at this point?

WeChat and its counterparts in China grew up in unique, nonrepeatable circumstances. They faced a massive middle class with plenty of cheap smartphones but no traditional banking or credit cards. They were protected from Western competition by the Chinese government. That same government applied a very light regulatory touch as the companies grew, and also encouraged centralization as a way to maintain greater control.

None of those factors exist in the United States today, and Musk’s dream of building the X app for everything is essentially impossible without them. American consumers already have dozens of easy payment choices through credit cards, debit cards, and existing mobile apps. Musk won’t be protected from competition by the government. Instead, he’ll be treated in a more hostile manner by regulators concerned about privacy, monopoly power, and his general history with flouting the law.

Larger and more important tech firms than Twitter—or, as Musk now insists, X—have tried and failed in this area. Meta owns several social networks and several messaging apps, and has tried expanding into areas like marketplaces, video, payments and more. But most of these experiments have failed to reach any sort of scale, and Meta’s successes have come from disaggregating and breaking things apart rather than bundling them together. Google’s Alphabet parent company has succeeded in a wide variety of areas such as search, video, email, payments, and more. But its attempts to build a social network flamed out spectacularly, and like Meta, their biggest successes have come from separated apps and brands, not a singular everything app.

For all its cultural importance and for all that the chattering class is addicted to it, Twitter’s just never been that large. Meta has nearly 4 billion monthly active users across its family of apps. Twitter/X, even if you believe Musk’s suspiciously cropped data, is a bit more than a 10th of that. Meta and Alphabet are orders of magnitude larger and more important than Twitter/X. If they’ve tried and failed to create the everything app, there’s no reason to believe that Musk can succeed.

Musk’s vision for the original X.com impressed Silicon Valley. By 2000, X.com had merged with Confinity, and Musk took over as CEO of the new company. He focused his vision on the global financial nexus, the proto-everything app, despite investor and board skepticism. He pursued that idea maniacally, to the detriment of PayPal/X’s core product of payment by email. He also insisted on branding the company as “X,” despite PayPal’s strong existing brand.

And in less than a year, he was coup’d out of the company and replaced as CEO by Peter Thiel. PayPal was saved as a company because its board ejected Musk. This time around there’s no board that matters except Elon, and there’s no one to save him from himself.

[cwritesfiction]

Adrian Reyes has psychic abilities — when he touches an object, he learns about it and others who’ve interacted with it. After years of feeling alone, he’s finally met another psychic, one who conveniently offers him a job right when he needs one...

ADRIAN is the love interest of IT’S IN THE CARDS, an adult rom-com with speculative elements. He’s looking for love in all the wrong places, including his workplace and a storage room at a casino’s event center. 

(See ELLIOTT’S profile here)

[scruffyssketchbook]

With the way how far the SSEC cast and the vers itself has built itself into the wrong direction that you regret, have you at any point considered having some kind of time manipulation or divine intervention to fix it?

Could it be convenient cheep or unoriginal? Sure, but there's only so much you can do to fix a painting before you have to give in and grab a new canvas...

Let's take this example of mine I made inspired by my fav anime:

Things are getting worse and worse, the main cast is alienated from everyone else and this villan threatens to destroy the PC boxes, and through some climatic event one of the main cast (let's put Blizz here) takes the villains power and soft resets everything.

Blizz opens his eyes and wakes up to the main gang playing a game.

Vay walks over to Blizz with this cool guy smirk on his face, reaches his hand to Blizz and ask "Hey sleepy head, come join in!"

*Tears run down Blizz's face*

Vay: "O-oh sorry, rough dream buddy?"

Blizz: *sobing* "I-I'm fine.." *puckers up into a cheerful glee* "I'll play!"

Everyone and everything is still here, everything except what brought the vees all apart, and in poetic irony Blizz is the only one who remembers it all!

Lmao honestly that’s funny. I actually thought of several similar things. But I think the path I ultimately have chosen is better. I love the touch that Blizz is the only one that can remember tho, that sounds great.

At one point I decided that I was going to reset the PC. Like. Something happened and the data storage facility that the cast’s PC got erased, so the people there had to recover a previous save file in order to save them. But there are issues with this. For example, it keeps a lot of things that I don’t really want anymore. Thats the issue with the other thing I was building up to, the trainer going to the Kalos PC system and reseting the world, the cast exploding the data center, the PC just dying one day, etc etc. but yeah. None of that. I know what I’m going to do to. Will people like it? No. But honestly I kind of have to do what I’m gonna do. 🙃

[mrcspectr]

wake me (when it’s over), chapter 2

Summary: In which Steven discovers the nightmare is not as hollow as Marc might think.

Title from Wake Me When It’s Over by the Cranberries.

Living in the past, it's difficult to hide. Some things will never last when you're swallowing your pride.

Inspired by this fantastic piece that’s been living rent free in my brain for a solid week now. You should absolutely go reblog it because wow.

Also, did an instrumental playlist for this story, if you’re into that sort of thing.

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: implied/referenced suicide, canon-typical violence, angst

Steven?

Steven sits in the center of the bed, dressed in a soft, white t-shirt of his own and a pair of dark, navy sweatpants of Marc’s. While they don’t agree on much when it comes to their normal, everyday clothing, tonight Marc can’t deny that his headmate has excellent taste when it comes to what he wears to sleep.

Scratch that, he briefly thinks to himself with a huff, when he tries to sleep.

Most of the clothes he’s started leaving around the flat are practical, yet comfortable. A bit bland for Steven's taste, but he’s just happy that Marc is now finally taking some initiative in cleaning out the storage locker. It’s been a slow process — a bag here, a hard, dented case of old, yet official looking documents there. But it’s a start, anyway, and the man hasn’t held onto many personal items to begin with.

It almost makes Steven feel guilty about the whole situation, the way Steven's own things have easily overtaken every available shelf and bit of wall space in the flat. Marc sometimes complains about the mess, though he’s never done much when it comes to contributing to it or even straightening it up.

He’s threatened to, on occasion. But there’s never been any follow through. Not yet, anyway.

That is, until Steven took it upon himself to start bringing the storage locker key with him to work in the morning. And if something well worn of Marc’s happened to make its way home with him, well. How he managed that must've slipped his mind entirely, as far as Marc's questioning was concerned. 

Besides, Steven is quite forgetful.

Everything Marc has begrudgingly brought on his own is very simple, very, well … Marc. He’s not sure when they started sharing those things, either, but the give and take feels natural, after some time. Steven simply reaches for something in their dresser drawers, paying no mind to whose it is.

Each bit of fabric feels more familiar than the last, somehow. These hands have held these things before, he knows. But it’s never been Steven, not until now.

And anyway, he’s much more at peace during the night than he’s been in years, and he’s always been able to concentrate best when he’s comfortable. And maybe just a little bit sleep deprived, somehow.

Some things never change, even his worst habits.

Hey, Steven.

“Hm?” He turns the page of the book that lies open in his lap, barely registering Marc's low voice in his ear. His glasses have slid down towards the end of his nose, but he’s been so engrossed, he hasn’t noticed enough to adjust them.

Have you been listening to me?

“Well, not since you’d started nattering on about me wasting our time, no, not really. Why d’you ask?”

Steven can almost sense, without looking, Marc's eyes rolling in the reflection above him. Look buddy, thanks for the honesty, but I'm tired. We're tired. Can we give this a rest?

With an exaggerated sigh, Steven takes the pen he's been absentmindedly chewing on and puts it between the pages, marking his place. "Alright then, so it's fine when it's convenient for you, is it?"

What are you talking about, Steven?

"Well," he lifts his head to the reflection, raising an eyebrow questioningly at Marc, as if punctuating the dark frames of his glasses. "Y'haven't slept in days."

Looking down again, he flips through the corners of the pages so that he can skim ahead to the next chapter. The title reads Oneiromancy in Egyptian Culture in thick, black letters.

Well, that’s a new one, isn’t it? Haven't read that word before.

"Hard not to notice your insomnia. Especially when I'm the one who usually wakes up in a state."

Not tired. Not until right now, anyway.

"That's sort of the point."

Kinda helping the process along here with … whatever it is you're reading. Looks boring.

Steven's eyes widen, staring incredulously now up at the mirror. "Marc!"

Oh, suddenly we're not being honest now?

"That's not—" Steven closes his eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to control his impending annoyance. "You're supposed to be talking to me now, remember? You promised, back in Cairo, and we’ve discussed this."

There were a lot of things they purposefully chose to forget, after they left Egypt. Maybe that was their first mistake. Marc has been trying, Steven knows he has, it’s just… Slow going on some days, more so than others. With that, Steven has done his best to lean on his sense of patience, but again, Marc is… Well, he can be trying with that, too.

The dark circles under their eyes are quite familiar to Steven, but the worrying bit is that he isn’t the one who’s put them there this time. Each morning that Steven has awoken first, he’s noticed that they’ve become more distinct, a deeper shade of purple, carving a crescent moon just above their cheekbones. While he seems to feel particularly more refreshed mentally these days, the physical exhaustion on the body is starting to take its toll on the both of them.

“Something’s going on here. And I just want to understand, that’s all.”

I keep telling you, Steven, they’re just… They’re nightmares, they’re nothing. Marc drags his hand down his face, closing his eyes. I’ve always had ‘em, since I was a kid. There’s nothing to really talk about or explain, just happens.

“But they’re worse, and have kept getting worse since we’ve been back. We look like we might very well drop with the right gust of wind.”

Even if I said that, which I haven’t, by the way… Marc opens his eyes again to throw a stern glance in Steven’s direction. Steven thinks he’s supposed to be intimidated by it, but decides very quickly he isn’t. You’re not gonna fix it with your nose in a book.

“Think we both know I’ve fixed quite a lot with my books, mate.”

Didn’t say that either.

“Don’t have to.”

There’s a triumphant grin on Steven’s face that he can’t quite hide whenever he wins an argument. In the past, it’s always had the tendency to make Marc roll his eyes at him, never allowing him the satisfaction of being right. On his worst days, he’d even disappear from the reflection in a huff, shaking his head as he went.

But lately, things have been different. Better. It’s not that Marc doesn’t get frustrated anymore, — that’s a hurdle Steven expects them to be jumping for the foreseeable future. But Marc is more willing to give in a little, to actually listen, and it’s made it easier to pick away at his foundation day by day.

There’s something especially rewarding about the way Steven watches some of the tension leave Marc’s expression, his eyes softening at the edges, but still trying to keep up appearances through their glare. Stubborn, but not as steely as he used to be.

Sometimes, Marc still feels impossibly far away, even etched in Steven’s mind as he is. But in other moments, quiet ones like this, at night, when it doesn’t feel like they have to be anything but themselves, all Steven feels between them is a smooth panel of glass. Just a tool they use whenever they want to look each other in the eye, when occupying the same space and the same heart isn’t enough.

An echo of a memory passes between them. Steven’s memory. Hard tile under his feet and the tight coil of fear in his gut, slowly unwinding as a dark, unfamiliar voice spoke to him for the first time.

Let me save us.

“Let me help us, Marc.”

A flicker of recognition passes through Marc’s eyes then, and to Steven’s surprise, he actually smiles. It’s hesitant and unsure at first, the slow spread of it easing out the once seemingly permanent creases in Marc’s brow. There’s a warmth in the way he looks down at him then, and Steven can feel it spread out further from his ribcage.

You ever gonna tell me how you do that?

"What's that, throwing your old hero nonsense back at you?"

Marc lets out a laugh, soft and low, and Steven finds himself almost sad when it fades out.

It worked when it counted, didn't it? Wasn't trying to be a hero anyway, just needed to save our skin. They both go quiet at the memory, eyes shut as they remember the sound of the jackal screeching, echoing along the museum's empty halls. Pieces of broken porcelain scattered around their feet, the smell of dust and sand from the fabric pulled tight against their face.

There had still been fear, sure. But more importantly, there'd been comfort, too. Safety.

A thing foreign to them both, but welcomed all the same.

What I mean is … how do you know what to say? Even when I don't. They open their eyes again at the same moment, not needing to search for the other's gaze as they reach it, immediately, every time.

Especially when I don't.

"I don't always have all the answers, Marc. Thing is, I'd like to help you find them, if you'll let me."

I have a hard time with that, bud.

"Yeah, I know. Doesn't mean I'll stop trying, though."

Marc chuckles under his breath again, shaking his head. Okay, why don't you tell me about what you've been reading, then? That thing looks ancient.

"Alright, let's dive right in, yeah?" Steven pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and, in his excitement to show Marc his most recent studies, he flings his pen off the side of the bed where it clatters to the floor.

"See, the Egyptians believed that dreams were actually messages from the gods, and that inducing a vivid dream state gave them the blessing of divine revelation…"

~~~

Waking lately has begun to feel a lot less like a sharp fall. Now the sensation feels more like floating up to the surface, and Steven is grateful to discover the difference. As he creeps forward into awareness, he finds a gentle breeze blowing across his face, his dark curls brushing against his forehead as he comes to.

A heavy sigh escapes him, his warm breath a contrast to the cool air.

He isn’t sure when he fell asleep, actually. He'd been talking to Marc, leaning back against the headboard with his book, its old, yellowed pages held out in front of him. He’d been going over a particularly fascinating chapter about oracles and interpreting messages from the afterlife.

Marc had asked him to read out loud, and so he'd pleasantly complied, slowing his typical frenzied pace so that nothing was missed, and Marc could ask questions in between if he wanted to. And he did, to Steven's delight.

At no point did he feel rushed, or like he was being too much. It was quite nice.

He must've trailed off at some point, the rhythmic tone of his own voice mingling with Marc's occasional hum of encouragement, lulling him to sleep. Ah, well. He'd pick it back up again eventually. They had plenty of time for all that.

But gosh, it’s cold in here. Did they leave the window open or something?

As he opens his eyes, expecting to see Marc staring blearily down at him from the mirror again, he’s surprised to find not a reflective surface, but a starry night sky. A murky darkness, with a few scattered points of light.

Not even a hint of the dated wood that made up his London apartment, his home. Their home.

"What the—"

With a start, he scrambles to prop himself up on his elbows, only to find less than stable ground beneath him. Not their bed back at the flat, then, either. He digs his arms further down in an attempt to sit up, and slowly he starts to make out his surroundings. He feels a shift and flow that’s familiar, unmooring him and winding a tight knot of fear in his gut.

Like sand.

Now jerked into alertness, Steven practically throws himself to his feet, head whipping around to take in his surroundings. There’s not much to see: tall dunes of swirling sand, carried up and through the air by the same winds that seem to have brought him here. A deep purple sky, bearing down on him as his breath catches in his throat, heart rattling against his ribcage until it aches.

He feels himself begin to shake, his fingers twitching by his sides, and a roaring through his ears that he can’t explain. Like his whole body is rebelling against the memory of the last time he’d been in this place, against the cold and the fear and the quiet. Forcing him to move in tight, jerking motions, to remind him that he could. That he wasn’t frozen in place, looking after a boat that had long since left him behind.

I’m back in the Duat. I’m back here.

How is this possible?

Did I — did I ever leave, then? Was all of it… Cairo, Harrow, the flat… Was any of that real?

Was I frozen here this whole time?

Steven shuts his eyes tight against the memory, digging his fists into the sides of his skull, like if he could just create enough pressure, it might soothe his spinning thoughts enough to figure out how the hell he ended up here again.

And why, despite the whirlwind occupying every available space in his head, it somehow still feels quiet and empty. Like there is something missing.

Through the fog, he grabs hold of an anchor. A single word that enters his mind, yanking him back to the present.

A name he’s only just learned, but now can never forget.

"Marc?"

For a beat, he’s met with more silence in return. His blood runs cold in his veins as time seems to drift off into nothing. His vision darkens at the edges, tunneling further and faster still, ears ringing, until a voice, heavy and unfamiliar, breaks through behind him.

“Yeah, I was lookin’ for him too, and I found you here instead. Damn shame, I guess."

Turning to face the man speaking, Steven’s heart leaps into his throat. The feeling of unease and panic threatens to drag him down into the ground below as he takes in this … individual, whether he be man or ghost. It isn’t Marc, no, because he knows Marc’s presence by feeling alone, without ever needing to see him. However, this is exactly who he’d been looking for, in every word on the pages of that book. In every other dream.

They share the same face, Steven knows, but the way this man holds his features is so unfamiliar, Steven considers for a moment that he must be looking at a stranger. And he is, technically, because he’s never found this particular set of eyes looking back at him through the mirror. In fact, the man’s eyes seem to darken by shades the longer he stares in Steven’s direction. His mouth is set in a tight, thin line, and there is an unlit cigarette held between his fingers, hanging at his side. He stands stiff and at attention, his gaze never drifting away from Steven’s tense, wavering frame.

And he looks tired. More tired than Steven has ever looked, if that were even possible. And somehow more withdrawn than Marc, despite all of Marc’s struggles these past few weeks.

Steven takes a deep breath, and feels the thrum of his heart slow as his mind connects his racing thoughts back together. As the shock of recognition and fear fades into the background, it is replaced by Steven’s preferred state of being — that of inquiry and analysis.

“Oh. T-this must be a dream. Alright. Good. Very good.” His voice comes out shakier than expected, so he swallows against it, tries again. “Are you … the other one? Well, I think you might be, anyhow. Marc seems to think you’re a—”

“I’m a … what? Just a part of the nightmare?” The man makes a low sound in his throat, something that could be a laugh, but it’s trapped too deep inside himself to make out. Steven winces. "Yeah, guess he would think that. This ain’t your fight, hermanito. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Just a minute, that’s—” Steven clasps his hands together in front of him, a poor attempt at ending their shaking. “...that’s Spanish, right? Marc had said you spoke it once, in his last dream. So I’ve been practicing. It means little… Little what, exactly?”

"I bet you've got a book for that somewhere. Back at home. Maybe you should go find out."

“So you know what home is like, then? Have you been there before, or do you just…” He gestures meekly around them. “Stay here?”

“Missin’ the point here, Steven. That’s not like you.” His sentences are clipped, abrupt. He hasn’t been here long, but already he seems to be losing his patience.

He reminds Steven of Marc. Just a little.

“Oh! And you … you know my name already. Wow. I hadn’t even introduced myself yet. Guess we can skip that step, then. For m’self, anyway.”

The man sighs, reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out a small, black lighter. He flicks the edge of it to ignite a flame. A thought breaks through Steven’s nerves then; it seems that the flickering light is much like the thousands of twinkling stars above their heads. There’s something reassuring about those stars, however far away they might be. Still warm, even in the cold, dark night. Steven shivers but carries on, emboldened by the idea.

“Could you at least maybe tell me your name? So I know who I’m speaking to?”

No reply. Though the man hasn’t changed the subject, or walked away. Perhaps Steven just needs to give him time. He tilts his head, looking up at the sky for what feels like hours. Maybe time passes differently here; Steven’s not sure. Last time he was here, he certainly felt frozen for long enough, longer than anyone should. And he somehow came back feeling older from it. Maybe even a bit wiser, he thinks cheekily.

After an indefinite period of time, Steven glances back at the man. He looks like he’s contemplating what he wants to say … though there’s no telling whether he intends on speaking the truth. A muscle twitches in his neck and he sighs, looking back at Steven again.

“The name’s Lockley. That’s what I tell people when I’m working.”

“And when you’re… Not working?”

“Jake. Just Jake.”

“Well, Just Jake, it’s a pleasure. Now if you’ve got the time, I have a few ques—”

“No.” His voice is abrupt, sharp, cutting through the night air and right into Steven’s resolve.

“I-I’m sorry?”

The man named Jake begins to walk, moving with short, slow steps in a wide arc around where Steven stands. It seems to Steven that the movement is more of an anxious habit than a deliberate choice. He observes the way Jake makes a point not to look at him as he goes, choosing instead to fiddle with the lighter. The flame is close to his face now, illuminating one side while casting the other in shadow.

“This ain’t the place for your nagging. And I already said. You’re not meant to be here. Something must've happened. Messed it up. It was always supposed to be the big guy.”

“Do you mean Marc?”

“Yeah.” Jake eyes him from the side, tightening his jaw reflexively. “Marc.”

“That’s sort of what I wanted to ask you, actually. Y’see, he’s been having trouble sleeping, and it’s … it’s been causing us both a bit of grief, y’know? Same body and all that. And he… He can’t seem to stay out because, well…” Steven hesitates, unsure how his next sentence will go. Still, he musters up the courage to rattle it off anyway.

“I think you've scared him.”

Jake stops dead in his tracks, turning toward Steven again so fast it makes him jump. He’s angry, that much Steven’s sure of, but the feeling doesn’t quite meet his eyes. They look dull somehow, hollow almost to complete emptiness. It’s a deep enough sadness that Steven feels like he should look away. But just before that, if he looks closely, he can see a shred of guilt, just below the surface. But he waits too long to say anything about it, and it’s gone again.

“Hell, you think I’m not tired?”

He turns away from Steven again, lighting the cigarette he’s been holding; the end is a single point of dim light in the murky desert air. “And anyway, maybe I’ve got a better question. He apologize to you yet?”

“Apologize?”

“Marc. You know, el jefe. The least he could do.”

Steven tilts his head to the side, not quite seeing the point the man was headed towards. “You’ll have to give me a bit more than that, mate.”

“You know. All that time you thought you were sleepwalking? The fake shit he planted in your head? That he’s so sorry for what he’s done. It was all to protect you, blah blah blah. Like he knows what that word means.” He resumes his steady pace, his footprints blown away by the hastening wind. This time Jake’s eyes meet Steven’s as he goes, and Steven follows, feeling as if he’s sinking further into the sand as he turns alongside Jake’s steps.

"And what is it you're getting at, exactly?"

"He blew up your life, Steven. To shreds. Kept you in the dark to what was really going on. Marc’s in control, Marc knows best. Thought you would've figured that out by now." He says it with spite in his voice, and there’s something in the tone that’s familiar to Steven, an echo from the days when he truly didn’t understand. It’s the same venom that once coated his own words, back when he'd shouted from a mirror on a dark night in London.

But with the truth has come acceptance, and a companionship that he’s not sure he ever wants to do without, now that he’s felt it. There’s an honesty that’s grown between them that Steven believes in; he feels it deep in the marrow of his bones.

He trusts Marc, more than anything else in this world or the next. And if this man, this Jake, is truly a part of them, then they are a part of him too.

And Steven wants to understand. And needs Jake to understand. But Jake shakes his head.

“Don’t know about you, but it’s about time we make our own damn decisions around here.”

"He … is that what all this is about? Why you’ve been attacking him in his dreams? You think he…" He shuts his eyes tight, shaking his head before he opens them again. "Jake. This is our life. I know that now."

"Is it? Because something tells me it would've gone a lot differently for you if you'd known that," he inhales deeply from the cigarette, blowing a plume of smoke up and towards the stars. "A long time ago."

"No, you've got it all wrong. That was Khonshu he … he manipulated Marc, made him work for him. Made him do horrible things. And Marc, he did want to protect me. And he did, from Mum, from that old bird, from everything. But Khonshu’s gone, and things are better now. Much better. I didn’t know it then, but—”

“That’s the whole problem, Steven. Do I have to spell it out for ya? You didn’t know. You never knew. And didn’t you have the right? To decide for yourself?”

“Marc just wanted me to have a better life, better than whatever it was he got stuck with.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Jake takes the half burned cigarette from his mouth, throwing it, still lit, to the sand at his feet. Lifting his heel, he grinds it down into the desert itself, the smell of smoke its only memory of ever being there at all.

“But you still don’t get the half of it, you know."

“Can you just… Can you tell me, then? Without lying to me? I’m trying here, really, I am.”

Jake laughs, the hollow shape of it echoing across the sands. “Everybody lies, Steven. Some of us are just better at it, is all. You being here? Not knowing me, what I do? Best lie I ever told.”

“So you have been around then, haven’t you?”

The dark smile that had crept across Jake’s features falls suddenly flat, his expression now tight and strained.

Gotcha.

Steven considers Jake for a moment as he chooses his next words, carefully piecing together the sentences in his mind before he decides to risk voicing them, trying to swallow the nervousness still vibrating at his core. "And anyway, isn't … lying not far off from keeping secrets? It's still an omission, if you get down to the bare bones of it. And you want honesty and choice. That’s what you’re so angry with him about, yeah? Because it seems like… You want me to be angry, too. So that I leave, maybe even fight with him myself. Is that right?"

"This conversation ain't about me. This is about you.”

"Alright, yeah, I can see you're trying to make it that. Your logic's a bit flawed though, innit? Can't really be angry with Marc if you're doing the same thing. Thing is, he's not the one tearing you apart in the desert."

“What happens out there’s got nothing to do with me. In here, I can do what I want."

Steven wants, more than anything, to break eye contact, to take a step back. Give them both some breathing room so that maybe he can de-escalate. But he's so close to really getting to the roots of this man… So, he carries on, almost pleading.

"He doesn't fight back, does he, Jake? What does that tell you, about what he thinks of everything he’s done?"

“Yeah, well. Maybe I’ve been shitty to him in here. But that’s only because I know he’ll wake up just fine back out there.”

Steven looks down at his hands, fidgeting under Jake’s intense stare. He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to that, like he's looking right through him.

“But he’s not fine, is he? And neither are you, Jake. You can't really believe that. I think… I think you’re one of us, and you don’t want to be in here anymore. You want out, and something’s stopping you, keeping you trapped in here. S’like your dragging yourself out.”

Jake's fists are tight at his sides, and Steven thinks they might be shaking like his own, but he can't be sure in the dim night.

"Can take care of myself, 'nito."

He bites off the words, trying to hold onto his anger but failing, letting it slip from his grasp as his eyes soften at Steven's words.

Steven takes a tentative step forward, bridging the gap that had been casually widening throughout their conversation. “You don’t have to, is the thing. It could be different. We’re different now, and we can help.”

Steven takes another step but stops when he sees Jake’s eyes dart down toward his feet. “You could be a part of that, if you really wanted."

"Got no issues with you, Steven. You’ve been in the dark on my being here just as much as the big guy. Was easier that way, 'til now."

“But you can’t just pick and choose who to be angry with, Jake. It doesn’t work like that. We're all here, making the best of it. We’re in this toge—”

“No. You two are in it together. I’ve been in here, rotting until you muck something up enough to need me.” Now Jake is the one to step forward, voice rising, coming towards Steven in wide, reaching movements.

 Steven thinks he should be afraid, maybe. But he buries it, as deep as it will go. He hesitates, not wanting to regret his words when he's not certain they'll ever speak again past this moment, but it’s no use. His anger gets the best of him. “We never asked you to do that.”

“You never had to, that’s the whole idea.”

“Bloody hell, for a man you seem to hate, you realize you sound just like him, right?"

Steven turns on his heels and starts walking. To where, he's not entirely sure. There's no discernable landmarks on the horizon, no figures in the distance, no sign of the gates of Osiris. But it's better than being here, arguing in circles again with a man he barely knows.

Once before was quite enough.

Marc was wrong, Steven is sure about that now. There is something here to fix, something tangible, and there’s certainly a lot to talk about and explain. But they’re not going to get anywhere while they’re both cheesed off, experience has taught him that. Broken mirrors have shown him that, more than once.

They’ll figure this out, they have to. They just need time.

And Steven … he needs Marc on this one.

Jake stays rooted in place, but his gaze never leaves Steven's retreating figure. Jake’s eyes soften slightly. If anyone were looking, they might even say that his expression is aching now, unsure. The mask seems to fall more easily once there’s no one around to see it. Jake looks toward the horizon, past Steven’s footsteps in the sand, watching as he goes but never making a move to stop him. Leaving him to his choices. 

His voice is quieter now, Steven near straining to hear him. "Where are you going?"

"Home! Have to wake up eventually, right?"

Steven turns for just a moment, looking back at the man he tried so hard to find. Jake doesn’t look that angry anymore, he just looks… Lost. Reluctant. But still he stands there, frozen, exactly where Steven left him in his anger. Steven almost goes back, then, if only to wipe that look off his face. To make him move.

He knows what it’s like, to be trapped in one place while you’ve tried desperately to find yours.

A man familiar, but just out of reach.

“I’ll be back, though. Now that I know you’re ‘round, it’s just a matter of … getting here. So when you’ve stopped being a git, call me, I guess. Or whatever it is you have to do.”

Steven smiles at him then, and Jake’s eyes widen at the sight.

“It was a pleasure, Just Jake.”

~~~

He’s a lot like you, back when we first met.

Marc is standing in the kitchen, eyes a bit blurry from lack of sleep but oddly enough, more rested than he’d been in days. That was Steven’s doing, no doubt. The guy saw a problem and dove head first into solving it, despite how much Marc had protested.

The smell of fresh coffee passes over him, and he’s reminded of the mug in his hand as the chime of the machine brings him back to his senses.

“Steven, that guy is nothing like me.”

Yeah, well. You would say that, wouldn’t you?

Marc opens the fridge, moving a few takeout containers around so that he can reach a tiny carton of cream he’d hidden at the back of the shelf. But just as his fingertips graze the edge of it, his arm freezes in place.

Not on our life, mate.

Marc sighs, his arm falling to his side. “Steven, I’m not above begging.”

And I’m not above blackmail, either.

“What are you—”

Listen, whether you believe it or not, Jake’s around, and he’s not going away as much as you’d like him to. Steven’s reflection in the glass of the coffee pot is stern, the most grounded Marc’s ever seen him. He isn’t going to let this one go, that’s for sure.

Why you’d want to bury another guy in our noggin like that, I’ll never understand.

“I dunno, maybe it’s because he’s spent our nights ripping a centuries old armor off my body, among other things.”

He wants to live, Marc. He’s angry.

“Yeah, I get that. Can be pissed without getting people hurt, though.”

Marc looks over after a beat of Steven’s silence, the man’s eyebrow raised in the glass as he stares back at him. Waiting.

“...okay, noted.”

Look, all I’m saying is… Be open to the idea, yeah? Some sleep and conversation might be good for us, for all of us, I think.

Yeah, definitely not letting that one go, then. As much as he’d like to go on believing the man called Jake was just a part of his own ongoing nightmare problem, Steven had made it a point to replay their entire conversation as soon as they woke up. All of which Marc had had no knowledge of. And here he’d just assumed he was lucky enough to have one blissful night of dreamless sleep. Guess there’d been a lot going on while he was out.

At least there’s comfort in knowing that their dynamic is the same, even after these new revelations that could have upended … everything.

He knows Steven means well, will always mean well, but he can’t help the worry making a home in his bones. After all, they’ve just started to figure this whole thing out, and it’s been… Nice. Things are good, minus the whole not sleeping thing. But he can deal with it, if it means not messing the rest of it up.

They’ve started to figure out how to make a life together, and the idea of adding someone else to it, someone he’d always brushed off as just a part of his very overactive imagination…

The whole thing just seems like a mess waiting to happen.

“Y’know, I’d be a lot more open to it if I could drink this how I want to.”

Alright, fine. But when you’re dealing with the consequences later, don’t come looking for me.

Marc picks up the pot and Steven disappears as he pours the dark, warm drink into his cup. But he’s not gone, not really. Not in the way he used to be. There aren’t walls anymore, nothing to break down, nothing to keep them from speaking to each other.

Steven is always there. And the thought is enough to keep Marc open to more, just a little.

[loathemetc]

DELTARUNE THEORY: The Old Chair

Well folks this one is a doozy and we have a wealth of new ARG(??? YEAH!) content from this SPAMTON SWEEPSTAKES LIVE EVENT [(LIVE!)] and obviously I should be talking about all the Noelle lore so let’s talk about this fucking chair instead:

Yes, a chair. There are many hidden links on the Deltarune website right now, and https://deltarune.com/chair/ sends you to well. A chair. A small, blue chair with a sheet draped over it. Clicking on it makes a sound play as it disappears, leaving garbled bits of color and nothing else behind. Also you can randomly get jumpscared by a familiar pair of yellow and pink eyes, so there’s that. 

Does that sound like a lot to unpack already? Well too bad buckaroo there’s more stuffed into this suitcase than you can shake a stick at! The name of the tab when you open this page is “But what if it could...”, click the chair and it changes to “... get darker than dark?”.

Sound familiar?

Besides the obvious reference to the classic line about being dark, darker, yet darker, to me it brings to mind Seam’s warning. Maybe it’s not such a good idea to be in the dark world at night... That’s at least two darknesses, which is more than one.

But wait, why a chair? Well, we know the third chapter’s dark world takes place in Kris’s house, obviously, which coincidentally just so happens to feature a named chair character! How convenient!

Thank goodness this mystery is solved except oh wait that doesn’t really make any sense, does it? This chair we’re talking about seems awful ominous, unlike beloved old Chairiel, adored by the family, front and center of the Dreemurr household. No, I think we’re looking for a different chair.

But that doesn’t mean we’re not looking for Chairiel.

Yes, something fans noted as soon as Deltarune chapter 1 released was that the Chairiel moniker seemed to have been transferred from one chair to another. While Chairiel in Deltarune is Toriel’s living room seat, Chairiel in Undertale was originally a small... Blue... Chair. Huh.

Could it be the the original Chairiel is in storage in the Dreemurr household somewhere still, in this new world? Abandoned and replaced? Well geez, all this ominous atmosphere, talk of being tossed aside, garbled messes and direct connection to those pink and yellow eyes sure is reminding me of our pals Jevil and Spamton huh?

So what the hell am I saying, that Chairiel, the ORIGINAL Chairiel from Undertale, is going to be Chapter 3′s hidden boss, feeling betrayed and broken after Toriel got a more comfortable chair to watch TV in!? Uh. I guess? I mean, I said I was spitballing here. 

But why those Pink and Yellow eyes... That’s Spamton’s bit, and only cause he was copying Swatch, right? Well, he was attempting to impersonate the head butler, but maybe there’s a reason he got the colors of Swatch’s orange and yellow glasses wrong. After all, we have another unexplained buddy with the very same colored eyes, don’t we?

Yeah, still no clue what that thing was about. But I’m getting the feeling we’re going to. Although, considering that pink and yellow jumpscare on the chair page redirects you back to the main sweepstakes page, it may just be Spamton trying to keep your nose out of business it doesn’t belong in. But that’s my final thought for now.

The site is still updating with new material, so if a wrench gets thrown in any of this, don’t blame me for jumping the gun. I’ll try to keep an open mind.

ADDENDUM 1 - It should be noted that the noise that plays when the chair is clicked on is called “water.mp3″ and sounds VERY similar to areas of Waterfall in Undertale such as the trash zone. How am I supposed to tie that to any of this?? Hahaha I have no idea.

ADDENDUM 2 - Could the sheet on the chair be the Shadow Mantle? Could the water noise have something to do with the Old Song from the Sea, mentioned by Riverperson in Undertale and Onion-San in Deltarune? So many questions...

[menmusthave]

8 Best Car Accessories for Your Car

1. HOTOR Car Trash Can with Lid and Storage Pockets

Stay Organized and Clean: This multipurpose car trash can keeps your vehicle free from clutter and mess. It features an adjustable strap that can be attached to either the front or back headrest, or the center console, making it accessible for everyone in the car. The magnetic snaps inside allow for easy replacement of trash bags, while the durable, leak-proof inner lining protects your car from spills.

Versatile and Compatible: Not only does the HOTOR car trash can help you manage your waste, but it also doubles as a storage bag for other items such as cups, toys, and accessories. It’s perfect for use in sedans, SUVs, and trucks, ensuring your car’s interior stays neat and tidy.

2. 27Pcs Car Detailing Kit

All-In-One Cleaning Solution: The 27Pcs Car Detailing Kit is a comprehensive set of car cleaning tools that ensures every nook and cranny of your vehicle is spotless. From detailing brushes and drill attachments to wire brushes and washing mitts, this kit has everything you need to clean your car’s interior, exterior, and even the wheels.

Versatile Tools for Every Task: This kit includes a variety of tools, such as car detailing brushes, microfiber towels, and polishing pads, making it easy to address any cleaning concerns you might have. It’s a great gift for car enthusiasts and a valuable addition to your car care arsenal.

3. Qifutan Car Phone Holder Mount

Secure Your Phone: The Qifutan Car Phone Holder Mount is a 3-in-1 solution that can be mounted on your windshield, dashboard, or air vent for convenient hands-free access to your phone. The strong suction cup and heat-resistant TPU material keep your phone securely in place, even on bumpy roads.

Adjustable and Flexible: With a 360-degree ball joint and adjustable telescopic arm, you can easily adjust the holder to your preferred angle. The one-touch release button makes it simple to use your phone while driving, providing a safer and more enjoyable experience.

4. MORNYRAY Waterproof Car Cover

Protect Your Car from the Elements: The MORNYRAY Waterproof Car Cover offers all-weather protection for your vehicle, guarding it against dirt, tree sap, bird droppings, and more. Made with high-quality, wear-resistant materials, this car cover ensures your car stays in excellent condition.

Waterproof and Windproof: This car cover features an elasticized hem and fixed buckles to keep it securely in place, even in strong winds. The UV-resistant layer helps protect the cover from fading and extends its service life. Plus, the cover comes with a storage bag for easy transport and storage.

5. NOCO Boost Plus GB40 1000A UltraSafe Car Battery Jump Starter

Start Dead Batteries with Ease: The NOCO Boost Plus GB40 is a compact, yet powerful car battery jump starter that can safely revive a dead battery in seconds. With up to 20 jump starts on a single charge, this 1000-amp lithium battery jump starter is rated for gasoline engines up to 6.0 liters and diesel engines up to 3.0 liters.

Safety and Multi-Functionality: The jump starter features spark-proof technology and reverse polarity protection, making it safe and easy to use. It’s also a portable power bank and LED flashlight, allowing you to recharge USB devices and illuminate your surroundings. Its rugged, water-resistant enclosure and lightweight design make it a reliable companion on any journey.

Video for this product

6. Car Air Freshener Vent Clip

Customize Your Fragrance Experience: This car air freshener vent clip allows you to personalize your car’s scent by using your preferred perfume or essential oil. The innovative push-switch design lets you control when and how much fragrance you release, making it easy to achieve your desired scent concentration.

Cost-Efficient and Convenient: By using your own fragrance, you can save on the recurring costs of pre-filled aroma diffusers. The customizable nature of this air freshener ensures you always enjoy a pleasant, refreshing scent during your drive.

7. Ceeniu Car Air Fresheners Dedicated Perfume Refill

Long-Lasting, Natural Scents: The Ceeniu Car Air Fresheners Dedicated Perfume Refill offers up to six months of continuous fragrance, depending on the mode you choose. Made with natural plant extracts and French-imported fragrances, this perfume refill provides a fresh and soothing atmosphere in your car.

Variety of Scents: With 17 different scent options, including lemon, lavender, and orange, you can find the perfect fragrance to suit your mood and preferences. The natural ingredients ensure the air freshener is safe for use around pregnant women, children, and seniors.

Easy to Use: Compatible with Ceeniu’s F26 and F39 diffusers, this refill is easy to install and use. Its natural chlorophyll content helps break down harmful toxins rather than just masking unpleasant odors, ensuring a cleaner and healthier driving environment.

8. Handheld Vacuum Cordless by Upbooz

Powerful Suction for Efficient Cleaning: The Upbooz handheld vacuum is a versatile cleaning tool for your car, home, or office. With powerful suction up to 14,000 PA, this vacuum easily removes dust, debris, and pet hair, keeping your car’s interior looking spotless.

Low Noise and Dual Functionality: This vacuum operates at a noise level of less than 75 dB, ensuring a quiet cleaning experience that won’t disturb others. It also doubles as an air duster, allowing you to blow away dust and sand from hard-to-reach areas.

Convenient Features: The vacuum’s cordless design and lightweight build make it easy to maneuver and carry around. With a 0.15-liter capacity and a one-click dust removal button, cleaning is quick and hassle-free. The built-in LED light provides extra visibility, helping you spot dust and debris in dimly lit areas.

Incorporating these eight best car accessories into your vehicle can enhance your driving experience and keep your car clean, organized, and efficient. Whether you’re on a long road trip or just a daily commute, these accessories offer the perfect combination of practicality and convenience.

From keeping your car clutter-free with the HOTOR Car Trash Can to ensuring your phone is securely mounted with the Qifutan Car Phone Holder Mount, these products provide essential solutions for every driver. The 27Pcs Car Detailing Kit makes cleaning a breeze, while the NOCO Boost Plus GB40 jump starter ensures you’re always prepared for unexpected battery issues.

For those who want to add a touch of freshness to their rides, the car air fresheners from Ceeniu and the customizable Car Air Freshener Vent Clip offer delightful fragrances to suit your preferences. Meanwhile, the Upbooz Handheld Vacuum Cordless keeps your car’s interior in pristine condition with its powerful suction, and the MORNYRAY Waterproof Car Cover protects your car from harsh weather conditions.

With these car accessories, you’ll not only improve the comfort and aesthetics of your car but also enhance safety and convenience on the road. Upgrade your car with these must-have items today and enjoy a smoother, more enjoyable driving experience.

More awesome products you can find here.

[estrellami-1]

Well that’s convenient for me because I love talking to you🙈 I haven’t heard vultures before I’ll have to look it up, I used to know how to play the clarinet when I was in middle school but I didn’t ever actually want to play it I always wanted to learn the violin and I recently bought one off marketplace but haven’t made much progress with it cause things have been crazy lately, playing instruments is supposed to be really good for your brain though. Your scarf is so pretty! I love the hearts!! It’s very cool that you made the pattern yourself, I can do that with cross stitching and embroidery but I’ve only ever made like a standard scarf knitting and some other random bits and bobs. I’m an investigator, what do you do for work? A poll in a fic could be such a fun use of the medium it could be like a choose your own ending kind of thing! But totally reasonable to not want something interrupting the flow of your stories 💜 as for yarn storage I just have a big storage bin full of craft supplies with my yarn in it, but my cousin has a lot more yarn than me and has done vacuum sealed bags of yarn before for storage lol, do you have a favorite kind? Did you know yarn types like acrylic are just a softened plastic and not a natural fiber? I think that and the fact that most of our clothes are soft plastics like polyester is wild, my cousin has started to spin her own wool yarn which I think is a really interesting process. 😘💜

Aww yay ❤️ honestly I feel like I’m not that interesting so I’m glad you like talking to me! 😂

Yes music is FANTASTIC for your brain I highly encourage you to pick up the violin again if you can! Though I do consider string instruments to be more difficult than percussion… piano and drums have definitely been easier for me to learn!

Aah thank you!!! I’ve actually never done cross stitch or embroidery but I’d love to learn one day! I can sew a little, my abuela helped me make (aka she made for me lmao) a pair of pajamas so that was a lot of fun :) we got a bunch of her stuff when she passed and some of it was the exact material she’d use for her nightgowns, so I’m gonna make me and my sister a nightgown each :)

Uhhhh right now I don’t 😬 I’m a nanny so I’m just in between jobs rn, looking for the next family.

A poll in a fic could be interesting but I think I’d hate being told what to do 😂 and ik that isn’t what it is but it’s how it FEELS so idk. Not for me 😂 plus I don’t want to accidentally write myself into a corner.

Oof I don’t have room for bins and we don’t have any vacuum sealed bags :( but yes I did know acrylic is just plastic! And I very quickly learned polyester is as well when I tried to iron a skirt and melted a hole in it 😅 front-and-center too, no way to fix it… so I ordered another! 😂

I’ve seen people online spinning their own wool which looks SO cool but also not something I can take on at the moment 😂 but I’d love to maybe one day in the future! ❤️

[rabbitcruiser]

National French Bread Day

Oui, Oui, monsieur – please, pass me another loaf of French bread! Few things are more tantalising than a long, thin stick of French bread (also known as a baguette) enjoyed warm and fresh out of the oven. Its crispy crust and soft center are defining factors for this tasty treat. But before it even comes out of the oven, though, this bread beckons to anyone nearby who can enjoy the smell.

Because they must be eaten fresh, French people typically purchase their baguettes twice a day: one in the morning on their way to work, and one in the evening on the way home. While a little difficult to track, it is estimated by the Observatoire du Pain (The French Bread Observatory) that French people consume 320 baguettes every second of each day!

In fact, access to bread is so vital that, until 2014, Paris lawmakers prohibited certain community bakeries from closing for summer holidays at the same time, lest the entire neighborhood be tragically without bread!

National French Bread Day is a great opportunity to indulge in some classic comfort food at its finest, while also learning a little bit about French culture.

History of National French Bread Day

The French have been baking long sticks of bread for more than 200 years, but it was only in 1920 that the current baguette we know and love came into being.

During that time, a law was passed in France in 1920 that prohibited anyone from starting work before 4am, making it impossible for French bakers to get their traditional breads baked in time before all of the people went off to work. They needed a creative solution to make their bread bake faster, but they didn’t want to cheat their customers.

Voilà, the quick baking baguette was born!

During this time, the innovative French bakers discovered that bread made in this longer shape was actually convenient for cutting as well as for storage. What began as a creative way to speed baking time ended up as a revolutionary way to appreciate bread.

How to Celebrate National French Bread Day

Enjoying National French Bread Day doesn’t have to be complicated. It can be as simple as serving a lovely loaf of French bread warm, slathered with butter and a chunk of cheese on the side. Why not embrace the whole continental experience and have a glass of fine French wine with it? More, s’il vous plaît!

But, for those folks who absolutely love all things French–or those who just love a tasty baguette of French Bread–many more ideas come to mind for celebrating the day:

Learn to Make French Bread Baguettes

Although bread-making can sometimes be tedious, some people might really enjoy the challenge and sense of accomplishment that comes from making their own French Bread.

Traditional bakers of French bread use a starter that has been passed down through generations, which makes it a little difficult to recreate. Still, it’s worth a try!

Many recipes are available online or in cookbooks, but the basic ingredients are likely to include bread flour, sea salt, dry yeast and warm water. In fact, in order to be truly authentic, national law dictates that “French” Bread contains only these four ingredients.

Of course, when making it at home, other creative ingredients, such as seeds for topping, are subject to personal preference.

The steps for making French Bread are fairly simple, including mixing, kneading, allowing time for the dough to rise, and then rolling it into the proper baguette shape. The lack of preservatives make it so yummy–but also mean that it must be eaten right away, so don’t make it unless you’re also ready to eat it!

Dress as a Frenchman (or Woman)

The French are about as stylish and savvy as Europeans come, and their fashion is no exception. However, one specific idea comes to mind when thinking of a traditional French costume: the black and white striped shirt.

Get the look by donning a black and white striped shirt with elbow-length sleeves. Add a pair of plain black or red pants. A set of black or red suspenders would look great too. It might also be fun to draw on a curly mustache (with eyebrow pencil or mascara).

And for those who happen to have a poodle or who can borrow one, well that is certainly taking this costume to the next level. But the most important part of the outfit? The French beret on top, of course!

Once dressed up, if people ask why the costume, then it’s a great opportunity to tell them that it’s time to celebrate National French Bread Day.

Watch a French Film

One excellent way to embrace French culture from afar is to sit down comfortably in front of a French film–with a baguette in hand, of course!

Les Miserables, 2012 musical (based on the 1862 book by Victor Hugo and the 1987 Broadway musical adaptation) starring Hugh Jackman, Russell Crowe, Anne Hathaway and more. In the story, Hugh Jackman’s character went to jail for stealing bread.

La Vie En Rose, 2007 biopic of French singer, Édith Piaf, starring Maria Cotillard (who won an Oscar for the film).

Amélie (The Fabulous Destiny of Amélie), a 2001 fictional tale about a whimsical young woman in Paris who seeks to help those in the world around her.

French Kiss, 1995 romantic comedy starring Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline.

Learn to Speak a Little French

Embracing the fullness of French culture, it’s fun to learn a few French words to practice with friends. Try out these basic words to celebrate National French Bread Day:

Pain (pronounced like the English “pan”): Bread

Bonjour: Hello, Good morning

Au revoir: Goodbye

Oui (pronounced like the English “we”): Yes

Non: No

Merci: Thank you

Enjoy Many Types of French Breads

Of course, the baguette isn’t the only bread that France has offered the world.  Those who can locate a nearby French bakery are in luck and may find all kinds of treats to appreciate on National French Bread Day, including croissants, pain au chocolat, brioche, batard, and much more!

Source

[orlando-lifestyle]

Discover the Orlando Lifestyle at Atlantica at Town Center, Davenport, FL

Located in the sunny south of Orlando, Atlantica at Town Center in Davenport, FL, welcomes you to a life of luxury, convenience, and endless adventure. This newest apartment community embodies the essence of Florida living, offering lavish amenities, luxurious finishes, and a blissful location that make it the perfect place to call home.

Luxurious Living Spaces

Each apartment at Atlantica at Town Center is designed with your comfort and style in mind. Featuring wood-inspired flooring, walk-in closets, stainless steel appliances, quartz countertops, and shaker kitchen cabinets, these living spaces exude elegance and functionality. Brushed nickel finishings, 9-foot-high ceilings, screened balconies or patios, kitchen islands, and pool or water views in select units add to the allure of these stunning residences. For added convenience, enjoy double vanities, under-cabinet lighting, soft-close hinges and glides, and spacious walk-in closets in select units.

Amenities Designed for You

Atlantica at Town Center goes above and beyond to cater to your every need and desire. Whether you're looking for health and wellness facilities, relaxation spaces, or thrilling activities, this community has it all. Enjoy a wide range of amenities, including a fire pit, Pelotons, a bike shop, a kids' playroom, a children’s playground, pedestrian-friendly sidewalks, and green spaces. Stay active at the large state-of-the-art fitness center, yoga studio, and stretch room, or relax by the resort-style pool with a sun shelf. Host gatherings at the outdoor gaming and picnic area with event turf, and cook up a storm at the outdoor kitchen with a gas grill area. Other amenities include a clubhouse with a coffee station and game room, Luxer One package lockers, on-site surface parking, valet trash services, personal garages and storage spaces in select units, and elevators in select units.

An Inspired Community

At Atlantica at Town Center, they celebrate individuality and welcome residents from all walks of life. Whether you're an adventurer, a laid-back individual, or someone with a sophisticated taste, you'll feel right at home in our community. They believe in standing out and creating a unique living experience that reflects your personality and style.

Experience Paradise in Orlando

Inspired by the coasts of Florida, Atlantica at Town Center offers endless opportunities to experience a life of paradise. Anchor yourself in comfort, and set adrift in adventure at this exceptional community in the heart of Greater Orlando.

Atlantica at Town Center in Davenport, FL (863) 509–1406

Disclaimer: Promotions and Perks

Please be advised that move-in promotions and perks advertised by Atlantica at Town Center are subject to change or termination without prior notice. While every effort is made to provide accurate and up-to-date information regarding available incentives, it is possible that promotions may end or be altered at any time. We recommend contacting their leasing office directly to confirm the current status of any advertised promotions before making any decisions regarding your move-in. Thank you for your understanding.

The apartment complex featured in this artcile adheres to the principles of the Fair Housing Act. They do not discriminate against any person on the basis of race, color, religion, sex, national origin, familial status, or disability in the leasing and management of our properties.

[regalokitchens]

Premium Modular Kitchen Photos, Layouts, Designs

Originally Posted On:- https://www.regalokitchens.com/premium-modular-kitchen-photos-layouts-designs.php

The modular kitchen is considered the center of the home when it comes to contemporary interior kitchen design. It serves as a center for social events, family time, and personal leisure in addition to being a place for culinary pursuits. To truly enhance your kitchen experience, investing in a premium modular kitchen becomes paramount. Regalo Kitchens stands out among the many brands accessible because it provides flawless designs, layouts, and performance. Let's investigate how Regalo Kitchens may turn your kitchen into an opulent and practical retreat.

Understanding the Essence of Modular Kitchens

Before delving into the realm of premium modular kitchen, it's essential to understand what sets them apart. Modular kitchens, in contrast to traditional kitchens, are constructed from pre-made modules or sections that are put together to match precise measurements and style preferences. This modular approach brings forth a myriad of benefits, including efficient space utilization, sleek aesthetics, and customizable layouts tailored to individual needs.

Benefits of Modular Kitchens

Space Optimization:

Modular kitchens optimize every inch of available space, ensuring no corner goes unused. From clever storage solutions to ergonomic designs, each component is meticulously crafted to maximize functionality.

Aesthetic Appeal:

With clean lines, contemporary finishes, and seamless integration, modular kitchens elevate the visual appeal of any home. They offer a perfect blend of style and sophistication, reflecting the homeowner's taste and personality.

Customization:

The versatility of modular kitchens' layout and design is one of their biggest benefits. Modular kitchen can be customized to match your unique needs, whether you're looking for a luxurious cooking area or a minimalist aesthetic.

Ease of Installation:

Unlike traditional kitchens that involve lengthy construction processes, modular kitchen is quick and hassle-free to install. The modular units are pre-fabricated off-site and assembled on-site, minimizing disruption to your daily routine.

Introducing Regalo Kitchens: The Epitome of Elegance and Functionality

Regalo Kitchens is the undisputed leader in premium modular kitchen, representing outstanding workmanship and innovation. Regalo Kitchens, with a long history of crafting exceptional kitchen environments, flawlessly merges beauty and utility, providing a broad selection of designs, layouts, and combinations to fit every discriminating homeowner's taste.

The Regalo Kitchens Difference

Impeccable Craftsmanship:

Each Regalo Kitchen is a masterpiece of precision engineering and meticulous attention to detail. From premium materials to flawless finishes, every element is crafted to perfection, ensuring durability and longevity.

Innovative Designs:

Regalo Kitchens prides itself on pushing the frontiers of design innovation. From contemporary chic to timeless elegance, their varied choice of designs appeals to every style sense, ensuring a kitchen oozes sophistication and charm.

Cutting-edge Technology

Regalo Kitchens uses innovative modular kitchen technology to incorporate smart solutions and unique features that improve functionality and convenience. From state-of-the-art appliances to intuitive storage solutions, every aspect is designed to elevate your culinary experience.

Personalized Service:

At Regalo Kitchens, customer satisfaction is paramount. Their team of expert designers works closely with clients to understand their vision and preferences, translating them into bespoke kitchen solutions that exceed expectations.

Exploring Regalo Kitchens: Inspiring Photos, Layouts, and Designs

1. Contemporary Elegance

Regalo Kitchens' contemporary collection exudes sleek sophistication and timeless grace. These modular kitchens, with their clean lines, minimalist aesthetics, and high finishes, embody modern luxury. From sleek handle-less cabinets to glossy countertops, every element is designed to create a seamless harmony of form and function.

2. Classic Charm

For those who appreciate the timeless appeal of classic modular kitchen design, Regalo Kitchens offers a range of traditional-inspired modular kitchens that exude warmth and charm. These kitchens, with their baroque detailing, rich wood treatments, and precise craftsmanship, evoke nostalgia while also embracing modern functionality.

3. Urban Chic

These kitchens, with their baroque detailing, rich wood treatments, and precise craftsmanship, evoke nostalgia while also embracing modern functionality. With industrial-inspired accents, urban finishes, and bold color palettes, these kitchens add a touch of avant-garde elegance to any space.

4. Functional Minimalism

In a world where less is more, Regalo Kitchens' functional minimalism collection offers a refreshing take on contemporary design. With clean, uncluttered aesthetics and intuitive storage solutions, these kitchens embrace the ethos of simplicity without compromising on functionality or style.

Bringing Your Dream Kitchen to Life with Regalo Kitchens

Embarking on the journey to create your dream kitchen with Regalo Kitchens is a seamless and rewarding experience. From the initial consultation to the final installation, their team of specialists will help you through the entire process, assuring a hassle-free and delightful experience. Regalo Kitchens makes your vision a reality, offering a cooking space that exceeds expectations.

In conclusion, a premium modular kitchen from Regalo Kitchens is not just a culinary space; it's a testament to luxury, innovation, and impeccable craftsmanship. Regalo Kitchens has a wide choice of styles and layouts to fit every taste and lifestyle, including contemporary elegance, traditional charm, urban chic, and functional simplicity. Elevate your cooking experience and redefine the heart of your home with Regalo Kitchens—a name synonymous with excellence in kitchen design and craftsmanship.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

1. What are the key advantages of choosing a modular kitchen over a traditional kitchen?

Modular kitchens offer several advantages over traditional kitchens, including efficient space utilization, sleek aesthetics, and customizable layouts. They are easy to install, cause no interruption during construction, and offer a variety of design alternatives to fit individual interests and lifestyles.

2. Are modular kitchens suitable for small spaces?

Yes, modular kitchens are highly suitable for small spaces due to their ability to maximize every inch of available space. Kitchens maximize functionality without sacrificing style or comfort, thanks to ingenious storage solutions, compact designs, and modular modules that can be adjusted to match precise specifications.

3. How durable are the materials used in premium kitchens?

Premium kitchens are crafted using high-quality materials known for their durability and longevity. From strong cabinets and countertops to durable hardware and finishes, every component is meticulously chosen to withstand daily wear and tear, ensuring years of dependable performance and aesthetic appeal.

4. Can kitchens accommodate specific appliances and accessories?

Yes, kitchens are built to accept a variety of appliances and accessories, allowing homeowners to customize their cooking space based on their needs and tastes. From built-in ovens and refrigerators to sleek chimney hoods and innovative storage solutions, kitchens offer endless possibilities for customization and convenience.

5. How long does it take to install a premium modular kitchen?

The installation time for a premium modular kitchen varies based on the size of the kitchen, the intricacy of the design, and the level of personalization. However, because of its prefabricated modular units and faster building process, kitchens often take less time and effort to install than traditional kitchens. On average, installation can take anywhere from a few days to a couple of weeks, ensuring minimal disruption to your daily routine.