#twenty one pepes

[screechthemighty]

Clancy Double Album Theory is OUT, Clancy/Dema Time Loop Theory is IN.

A recurring concept in Clancy is the idea of backsliding, returning to the start, the past being there. Next Semester's focus on memory and the way the video seems to show Tyler trapped in the past. Backslide being both lyrically obviously about the concept AND the way the music video IS A LOOP. Snap Back's music video with the way he returns to the shaved head even while long hair Tyler is still in the mirror, and also the lyrical content. WELCOME BACK TO TRENCH - (EDIT: "I've been here before" in Routines in the Night too.........I'm cooking with this I swear I am)

Sound wise, listen to the album on a loop. The outtro of Paladin Strait works just as well as an intro to Overcompensate.

This is a concept that has been explored before. March to the Sea (which, I can't articulate why, but it feels like a cousin to Paladin Strait, let me mull on that one a bit longer) is literally about the looping concept of constantly choosing a better path and having to continually make the same choice over and over, not just once. Because it's not just a choice you CAN make once. Sometimes it's a choice you make every day, every new semester, every loop.

EDIT: Okay but Tumblr user parhelics sent me this but "“welcome back to Trench” and “I feel like I was just here” and “overtake your former self” hit so hard after a Paladin Strait ➡️ Overcompensate loop!!" TYLER WHAT ARE YOU COOKING

Anyway if the Paladin Strait video ends with Tyler confronting Nico and then being sent back to the beginning, I called it. Also, I think "Snap Back" and "Next Semester" are my favorite tracks on the album.

[cranberrymoons]

a love to last past saturday night

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

So. 

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

Whatever.

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

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

“Hey man, what can I get you?”

Too late. 

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

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

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

“You saw that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, that’s not mine. I didn’t –”

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

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

“You didn’t have to.”

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

Steve feels his face heat. “Thank you.”

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

—

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

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

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

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

“Your muffin?”

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

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

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

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

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

The barista narrows his eyes. “Fine?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

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

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

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

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

He gets a teasing little wave in return. 

“Have a good day at work, Steve.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t say he was hot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighs. “Why do you even care?”

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

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

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

—

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

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

He’s normal. He’s… acceptable.

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

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

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

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

Fine. Just go. 

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

He does it.

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

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

Oh. 

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

“Yeah?” she asks.

“Just, uh – a coffee?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever. It’s your shop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I busy tonight?”

“That’s what I asked. Are you?”

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“What?”

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

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

—

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

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

[eastofthemoon]

Last couple years, I've managed to write a muppet fic for the holidays. So, here's another one! Hope you all enjoy!

Spooky Christmas

Rating: G

Series: The Muppets

Characters: Kermit, Sam, Uncle Deadly, Miss Piggy and various others

Summary:It's time for the muppets to plan the annual Christmas show, however, Sam objects to the typical muppet style. Thankfully, Uncle Deadly has other suggestions.

Archive Of Our Own

Kermit hummed as he sat at the head table with his clipboard. He did a quick count of the chattering heads spread out around the table and it seemed everyone was here. He didn’t see the Swedish Chef, but he knew he was busy preparing snacks for break.

“Okay, settle down,” Kermit called out.

The chattering continued.

“I said settle down please.”

Talking still continued.

“I said-”

“EVERYONE, SHUT UP!” Piggy shouted as she sprang from her seat next to him.

Silence swiftly fell upon the room.

Kermit cleared his throat. “Uh, thank you, Piggy.”

“Welcome, Kermie,” she said with a smile as she sat back down.

“Now then,” Kermit started as he held up his clipboard. “It’s time to start planning our annual Christmas show. So, time for brainstorming. Any ideas?”

“How about we throw fish, but they’re covered in candy canes,” said Lew Zealand as he tossed a fish in the air and then it came flying back.

Sam huffed under his breath in his seat near the end of the table.

“Um, we’ll put a pin in that for now,” Kermit replied.

“How about a holiday rock concert,” said Doctor Teeth.

“That’s a good suggestion, but we did that last year,” Kermit replied.

“My ears are still ringing from that horrendous cacophony,” Sam muttered.

“I got a great idea for an act,” Gonzo cried. “I dance in a bucket of sugar plums, while twenty tinsel cannons go off.”

Sam’s grumblings grew louder. “Of all the ridiculous-”

“Um..we’ll also, put a pin in that one,” Kermit replied.

“I have a suggestion,” said Piggy. “I think this year we should do a play.”

“Oh?” asked Kermit. “What kind are you thinking of?”

“A classic, Pride and Prejudice .”

Kermit blinked. “Um, Piggy, that’s not really a holiday story.”

Piggy grinned as she batted her eyes. “It can be if we include mistletoe.”

Kermit felt sceptical, but he could hear everyone beginning to toss ideas around it. It honestly was the best suggestion so far.

Gonzo raised his hand. “Can I use my tinsel canons?!”

Kermit stared at him. “Tinsel canons? For Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice .” He gave a deep sigh. “Yes, you can use tinsel canons.”

“Woot!” “Well, okay,” Kermit said as he started to write on his clipboard. “If everyone is for it we can-”

“I OBJECT,” Sam said as he slammed his wing on the table. “This nonsense can go on no longer.”

Piggy glared. “What’s your problem?!”

Sam glared back as he leaned over the table. “My problem is that every year we put out some tomfoolery that we call a ‘Holiday Performance’. I say it’s time we do a Christmas show the traditional and American way with proper holiday symbols like Frosty, reindeer and Santa!”

The group began to groan and protest.

“But EVERYONE does those,” Fozzie replied

“Si,” Pepe snapped, “and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want a repeat of the snowman fiasco, okay?”

“No kidding,” Floyd called out. “Animal still get nightmares from it.”

Animal shivered. “So...cold.”

“If the floor is open,” Uncle Deadly said with his seat next to Piggy’s. “I may be able to provide some unique alternatives.”

Kermit frowned. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“It better not be more flying fish,” Sam muttered.

“Have you ever heard the Icelandic tale of the Yule Cat?” asked Uncle Deadly.

Kermit frowned puzzled. “I can’t say that I have?”

“I haven’t,” said Rizzo, “but anything that involves the word ‘cat’ instantly makes me suspicious.”

“The story goes,” Uncle Deadly continued, “on Christmas Eve the Yule Cat comes down from it’s home in the mountains to check to see if people are wearing new clothes.”

“Hmm,” Sam muttered, “not quite Santa, but I can appreciate a creature making sure people are properly suited for the occasion.”

Kermit continued to stare at Deadly. “And what happens if a person doesn't get new clothes?”

Uncle Deadly waved a hand. “Oh, it eats them.”

Sam choked. “What?”

“Ha! Called it,” Rizzo called.

Kermit felt a tug on his arm and glanced down at Robin.

“Uncle Kermit, am I going to have to start wearing pants?” he asked.

“I have a feeling the Yule Cat isn’t going to check on frogs,” he said quietly.

“That is horrible,” Sam bellowed.

Uncle Deadly gave a shrug. “Well, I have heard modern versions say the Yule Cat makes a mess of the house rather than consuming it’s inhabitants.”

“Hey, we could do stuff with that,” Rowlf said. “Make jokes about it clawing the curtains, it can’t deciding if it wants inside or out-”

“And,” Fozzie cut in as he raised a hand, “I got a lot of cat jokes that would be purrfect! Eh? Eh?”

“His jokes sure seem like something the cat dragged in!” Statler yelled while Waldorf laughed.

Kermit gave a nod. “Okay, we can use the Yule Cat-”

“Certainly, not,” Sam said sharply. “We can not endorse feline misdemeanor!”

Uncle Deadly drummed his fingers on the table in thought. “If that’s not your ‘cup of tea’, I suppose there are the Yule Lads.”

“And who are they?” Sam asked suspiciously.

“13 brothers who each come to visit home on the last 13 nights leading up to Christmas.” He folded his hands together as he leaned forward. “Children leave their shoes on windowsills and in return the lads will leave small gifts and a rotten potato in ones that have been naughty.”

Sam mulled this over. “That’s much more palatable. What are their names?”

“I don’t recall the exact order, but one of them is called Spoon-Licker.”

Sam froze as Kermit looked on curiously.

“What?” said Sam.

“Another is called Pot-Scraper, Door-Slammer, Sasuage-Swiper-”

“Those are horrible names!” Sam snapped.

“They are a bit of an odd choice,” Kermit replied.

Uncle Deadly raised a finger. “To be fair, they’re named after the pranks they pull in the houses they visit.”

Sam massaged his forehead. “Of all the stupid...”

“What kind of mother gives them those kinds of names?” Piggy asked.

“Well, considering their mother is the child eating ogress Grýla, who hunts for disobedient children to throw into her stew pot, I imagine appropriate names is not her top priority.” He paused and raised a hand. “I should mention she’s also the owner of the Yule Cat.”

“Interesting family,” Piggy replied, darkly.

Kermit tapped his chin. “Well, if we hold back on some of the child eating stuff-”

“No,” Sam growled.

“Then how about the Krampus?” Uncle Deadly suggested.

Sam sighed. “He’s not another member of the Lad family is he?”

Uncle Deadly placed a hand over his chest. “Certainly not, he is a companion of Santa Claus.”

“Oh, that’s better,” Sam said as he eased up. “He helps deliver the toys?”

Uncle Deadly waved a hand back and forth. “Yes and no. He does ride with Santa, but while Old Saint Nick hands out toys to good children, the Krampus whips the bad ones with branches and sticks.”

Sam buried his face into his wings. “Why am I not even surprised?”

“There are even some darker stories that say he throws them into his basket to take them back to his lair to eat them.”

Sam glared at him. “I’m rather concerned about how often cannibalism is coming up in these stories.”

“It’s not cannibalism though,” said Scooter. “I mean ‘cannibalism’ is when a person eats their own kind, and these creatures aren’t human so it’s just people eating.”

“Wait, hold it,” Bobo said as he sipped his coffee. “If we ate each other would that be cannibalism? I mean, we’re different creatures but we’re also all ‘the muppets’ so-”

“I’m going to stop you there before you go further down that rabbit hole,” Kermit said before turning back to Uncle Deadly. “Still, if we tone down some aspects we might be able to-”

“Why are you even considering this?!” Sam snapped. “Dangerous felines? Ruffians breaking into houses to lick spoons? What does any of that have to do with Christmas?!”

“Because there are people that do rather enjoy the spooky side to Christmas,” Kermit replied.

Sam blinked dazed. “Spooky side to Christmas? What are you talking about?!”

“Well, the holidays take place on the longest, coldest and darkest nights of the year,” Kermit said. “Isn’t it only natural that people find that a bit scary and make up stories to deal with it?”

“It’s true,” Bunsen chimed in. “The traditions of Yule are said to go back centuries.”

Beaker cleared his throat. “Meep, meep, meep! Meep, meep, meep. Meep. Meep, meep, meep. Meep, meep, meep? Meep!”

Everyone gave a unanimous applause.

“Well spoken,” said Uncle Deadly, “that was truly profound.”

“Indeed,” Bunsen said as he patted Beaker’s shoulder. “I do love it when you use your anthropology knowledge.”

“Nevertheless,” snapped Sam. “We are Americans and therefore we should do an American Christmas play. We should do A Christmas Carol .”

“Um, I do love A Christmas Carol ,” said Gonzo, “but we’ve done it a million times.”

“Yeah, we want something new,” said Rizzo.

“But it is American and has none of this dark Christmas stuff,” Sam stated firmly.

“A Christmas Carol?” Kermit said blankly. “The one written by a British author that is about three ghosts haunting a man to change his ways? That A Christmas Carol?”

“And let’s not forget how the Ghost Of Christmas Yet To Come is a grim symbol of our fear of mortality and grappling with death.”

Everyone turned to Fozzie stunned.

He shrugged. “What? Can’t a bear appreciate the classics?”

“Sure, he can,” said Waldorf.

“They’re as old as your jokes,” said Statler as both the old men laughed.

Sam gave a deep defeated sigh as he turned to Kermit. “Pride and Prejudice it is.”

“Great,” said Kermit. “Now how many cannons do we need?”

[world-guardian]

I hate saurus. I hate them. I hate their lizard faces. I hate their clubs. I hate their sticks. I hate when the sticks are next to the clubs and I hate when the clubs are next to the sticks. I hate that Kroq-gar pulls 2280 of them out of his scaly asshole and then descends on me like a Vogon at a poetry convention.

I hate the Saurus auto-resolve meter. I hate it because it lies to me. It says I have a 50-50 chance of victory. This is patently false, because I have twenty units of skeletons who are held together with prit stik and prayer. I do not have twenty units of eight foot tall geckos constructed out of pectoral muscles and galvanised coffin nails.

I hate that they shout bok at me. Bok is the Bristol Orienteering Klub, which is completely irrelevant to a battle in Lustria and should not be shouted repeatedly while eating a rank of tier one infantry like buffalo wings.

I hate their morale. I hate that surrounding them simply prompts one of them to pull out a US general's helmet so he can make a speech about 'now we can attack in any direction'. I hate that their reaction to a devastating rear attack is to become somewhat peeved. I have looked a Saurus in his smug scaly face as an encirclement that would shatter any other early game infantry closed in.

He went from :I to >:I , killed an extra two hundred skeletons because I had foolishly allowed all four sides of the Saurus unit to fight at once and then swallowed my Liche Priest like a slim jim.

I have resolved to shoot every Saurus dead. Every Saurus. All of the Saurmen and the Saurdren too. I hate them. I no longer see battlefields because they're covered by a thick blanket of arrow trails. I hate that it barely stops them. I hate that they keep coming while shouting about the Bristol orienteering klub, or the Bank of Oklahoma or the 1983 Bok asteroid. I hate that they made me google bok so I could write down ways in which I hate things that have it as a name. Bok is also a lunar crater and a martian crater. It is also a village in Iran. The IATA code for Brookings Airport is Bok. I will never go there because it would give me palpitations.

I hate that Kroq Gar is friends with the Rare Pepe next door, who also declares war once I've shot Kroq Gar unconscious for the tenth time. He also has Saurus only these ones are blue. Somehow this is worse.

I hate that there are another ten Lizard factions. I hate that they will be in end game by the time I reach them. I hate that while I was writing this Kroq Gar picked up Kalida and smoked her like a cigar.

I hate Saurus.

[norrisgrl]

if you kiss me, will it be just like i dreamed it?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𖹭^᪲᪲᪲𝅄 ׁ ˳

˖ˑ ִ𐙚 angelica - angie or angel. twenty-one. pisces. she/her. enfp. translation student. argentina.

˖ˑ ִ𐙚 formula enthusiast, i support most of the drivers but my favourites teams are mclaren, ferrari & prema!! these are a few of my favourite drivers: lando norris, oscar piastri, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, paul aron, dennis hauger, ollie bearman, franco colapinto, pepe martí, kimi antonelli, dino beganovic and maaany more.

˖ˑ ִ𐙚 i love interacting with people so feel free to send asks or anything really<3 i made this account to interact with people who shares the same interest as i do.

˖ˑ ִ𐙚 motorsports, taylor swift, sabrina carpenter, sleeping, reading, art, music, movies, tv shows, xmen, baking, cooking, fashion, makeup, winter, sweets, the colour pink, ribbons, soft & girly stuff, learning languages, ben hardy, etc.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝅄 ׁ ˳꣑୧ ۠ ⭒

[sarahinara]

it's like 230am and I've already taken my meds but let's see how coherent I can manage to make this.

first oof omg. okay but the like. conflating of maine and the meta (with sigma & eventually the others) and the meta (without the ais) within fandom is so?? like distressing lmao.

the fandom wiki goes on and on about he was ambitious and conniving and power hungry but I just feel like that's so unfair?

because looking at the leaderboard across seasons nine and ten, I think the main reasons for him climbing the board are due to other people's actions and then like. taking a bullet or twenty to protect the briefcase/carolina during the terrible no-good very-bad heist™, and then once sigma gets involved it sure does seem like he does a lot of whispering in maine's ear. (the whole 'sic him' moment will never not be unsettling asdfghjkl)

BUT! but sigma was supposed to be carolina's and she gives him up so that maine can still communicate with the group but like. a decent majority of them can Already make sense of what he's saying? and sigma obviously has his own agenda like friendo iunno if your interpretation of what maine Means to say is wholly accurate.

I'm gonna get to Washington in a hot minute I just have a lot of feelings ;__; because he's got creativity&ambition via carolina, and then fear and happiness from her too. and then theta was next I think?? then gamma and omega, and finally delta? the order he acquires them in aren't intentional I'm sure but it still has me feeling like the pepe silva meme.

and he has So Many all at once? I mean there's that whole 'oh he was power hungry and that's why he&sigma are scooping all of the ais and tech up' but there's also that like. is it so wrong to want them to all be together? in the scheme of things? do they talk with one another in his head? is it Almost like being part of a team again? when does the mental exertion start to melt his brain and hollow him out into the seemingly single minded Meta? what was it like to suddenly have them all gone again? alone alone alone in his head and he can't even properly use his equipment anymore. absolute bullet in the kneecap no wonder he's so petulant and sassy to wash in s8.

anyways. pfl strong silent aggro tank maine and messy rookie 5ever washington make my heart hurt. they both (wash later, mostly) have that hair trigger tip into sudden sharp violence and Yet that 'my friends are in danger gotta toss myself in front of oncoming bodily harm bc that's how I operate' aspect to them as well. how washington is the only one still sitting in the lecture room while sigma fiddles around with the concept of metastability. like what was That about. those moments in s8 where it's almost back to normal exasperated banter? you can't see it but wash is prolly making exasperated lil bitchfaces all the time?

the whole. whose idea was it to bring the meta back along on the epsilon retrieval quest. his brain is prolly fried and he can't use his armor properly and his more than a little unstable. was it the chairman? surely he must have seen some sort of flaw in sending him back out there. was it washington? insisting that the shell of one of his dear friends needed to tag along with him? was there a trade thrown in there somewhere for maine's sake? would he have wasted away in some unsc prison somewhere if not?

wash knew the meta was likely going to try some nonsense when it came to epsilon (and later beta) and yet!!! and yet they're still a team and duoship weird not quite wary friends again not quite perfectly civil work partners. breaks my HEART!

anyways ;__;

okok putting my thoughts under a read more because this got long LMAO

pre-sigma maine (+wash)

YES justice for pre-sigma maine. when it come to the freelancers and the leaderboard, the only ones who reeeeeally cared about the rankings (that we saw) were carolina, south, and ct. the others mention it at points (york and north had a short convo about it), but they have the most reactions to changes/their placements on the board.

but maine? the guy who just does his job of kicking ass when asked? he’s not the one trying to jump off buildings and compete against his fellow agents (a la carolina after tex shows up), nor does he push himself to perform in the field (a la york after his eye injury). you’re absolutely right that maine probably  climbs the leaderboard because he’s just good at what he does.

I think that’s partially why I love the maine+wash duo so much—neither of them played to the project’s machinations of the leaderboard. wash comments so. many. times. about the absurdity of what they’re doing that partnering with maine is probably a breath of fresh air. no-nonsense, you-charge-ahead-I’ll-cover-the-field, oh-right-my-trackers-thanks—they know their strengths, that they’re good, and don’t need a leaderboard to tell them that.

post-sigma maine aka the meta

sigma is absolutely the source of any ambition for power in maine. at this point, the other AIs in use were omega, gamma, delta, and theta; tex probably didn’t talk to anyone about omega, gamma was just sorta odd, delta was calm but logical, and theta was unassumingly cute. maine didn’t have any reason to be overly cautious about sigma when he first got him, and sigma probably kept up pretences during their initial days in order to gain maine’s trust.

and then he has this AI, this piece of hardware wired into his brain and every thought—maybe sigma doesn’t interpret for maine 100% correctly, but he’s able to convince maine that he does. maybe sigma oversteps his boundaries as an AI, and goes down neural pathways he shouldn’t. then, when sigma whispers to maine, how is maine supposed to know if it’s the AI’s thoughts or his own?

I like to think that maybe that’s why he was able to have multiple fragments at once and still function, unlike carolina. whereas eta and iota kept to the AI-designated areas of their freelancer, sigma had such a handle on maine that his want to become human became maine’s as well, because suddenly he realizes that he feels the fragmentation as much as his AI does.

with each fragment he collects, maybe maine feels more whole despite the strain he’s putting on his body. each new voice in his head is like him remembering how to feel—happiness, fear, trust. when they talk to each other, it’s just like any other time he’s rationalized with himself.

this is when maine becomes the meta. when “maine”—everything he was before sigma was implanted—just becomes another fragment of the alpha, desperate for the other pieces that they lost. I don’t think meta is hollow-minded necessarily, but just an amalgamation that transforms maine away from what he once was.

post-meta maine (+wash)

the EMP goes off and it is so quiet.

I think maine is left reeling, still feeling like a fragment despite all biological evidence to the contrary, and doesn’t remember how to be human anymore. his combat abilities are deeply-ingrained muscle memory, but his thoughts? his emotion? the AIs were so intertwined with his mind that every flare of feeling is new and alarming.

then he meets S8 wash, and it only makes it so much worse. because the angry, betrayed man in front of maine is so conflicting with who he remembers, and he doesn’t have the capacity to process that. wash gives him an order and it’s so familiar and maine knows that he should trust wash, that he wouldn’t have hesitated once upon a time, but his mind is broken and all he can focus on is how quiet it is why can’t I trust you why can’t you trust anyone—

why does maine go with wash to search for epsilon? I think they’re both loose ends for freelancer, but neither with any lingering love for the project. wash is tired of it all; maine is a lost man wandering through each day. wash offers his efforts in exchange for his freedom; maine is offered freedom in exchange for his efforts. the chairman pairs them together because the records are clear—they were a good team, and they won’t come anywhere near freelancer after this.

I think if their goal was anything else, if they weren’t dealing with AIs, then maybe wash and maine could’ve come out from their mission a little better for it. his friend is broken but he’s here, and wash learns how to trust again when he feels that white armor pressing against his back in a firefight; his friend is broken but he’s here, and maine finds his own voice again when they’re killing time between objectives. with time, they both feel less alone.

but they were hunting epsilon, and this is maine’s chance to feel whole again, like how he felt when he had the fragments filling his head. there is no downtime, no chance for either of them to heal with their mission looming over their heads. maine might work with wash throughout S8, but when the opportunity presents itself to collect epsilon and beta? the opportunity to be human again?

he never had a choice.

[randomvarious]

Today's compilation:

Reloaded 3 2001 Alternative Rock / Indie Rock / Pop-Rock / Britpop / Post-Grunge / Nu Metal

Back in the early 2000s, the compilation arm of Universal Music put out a brief series of double-discs in the UK called Reloaded that ended up serving as something of a contemporaneous snapshot of the country's wide alternative rock landscape, spanning from soft and folky, indie-type stuff, to the most banal of radio rock, to the leading rock sound du jour at the time that was nu metal. And for an American listener like me, this series' third installment here, from '01, mostly makes for a great and clashing mix of bad and dumb nostalgic fun with some genuinely good turn-of-the-millennium rock fare that I'm not nearly as familiar with.

But although this comp is heavily dominated by rock music, the tracks that close out each disc are actually electronic, and I think they happen to be the two best songs of this whole set. Maybe you don't know Finnish band Pepe Deluxé's nifty vocal breakbeat tune, "Before You Leave," by name, but perhaps you remember it from this big and strange 2001 Levi's ad? 🤔

And the other swell non-rock tune is UK duo I Monster's retro-futuristic trip hop classic, "Daydream in Blue," which was then later sampled by Lupe Fiasco for his own "Daydreamin'." But as you could probably tell, I Monster themselves sampled from another song to create their own too, which was a cover of Belgian band Wallace Collection's "Daydream," that was done in 1960 by a German group called Günter Kallmann Chor.

Now, for the cream of the crop when it comes to the actual rock music on here, there's Cali indie band Grandaddy, who also happen to provide the theme music for one of my favorite podcasts too, Citations Needed, which isn't a music-related show, but you should definitely listen to anyway 😁. On "Hewlett's Daughter," the group provides a soft and light, floaty indie groove, with frontman Jason Lytle playing keyboards while also delivering some Neil Young-type vocals.

And another rock song I really love on here is one that feels way more formulated for an alt-rock radio type of format, but in that regard, it excels exceptionally well as an unrelentingly smooth and upbeat tune: "Catch the Sun," by UK indie band Doves. This one doesn't appear to have charted in any capacity Stateside, but it probably would have if it had been given a real chance to. And it was featured in Project Gotham Racing too, which is a videogame that I happened to play a lot of when this song was around, so maybe that's partially why I enjoy it as much as I do 🤔.

And for the fun and dumb nostalgia, we have a whole litany of stuff: Limp Bizkit's "Rollin'," Papa Roach's "Last Resort," Matchbox Twenty's "If You're Gone," Wheatus' "Teenage Dirtbag," Bloodhound Gang's "The Bad Touch"—whose new wave intro I've always really loved—and Creed's "With Arms Wide Open," which sees Scott Stapp singing the word 'man' like no one had probably ever heard before ('mahhn') and then singing the word 'demand,' which partially rhymes with 'man,' in a completely different way, but also pretty much exactly like you would've expected him to sing it anyway ('demayhnd')?

So, I pretty much love this thing. Quality rock music, a couple terrific alt-electronic tunes that have aged really well, and then a bunch of songs that will take you right back to the silliness that represented so much mainstream rock music in 2001.

Highlights:

CD1:

Limp Bizkit - "Rollin' (Air Raid Vehicle)" Papa Roach - "Last Resort" Muse - "New Born" Queens of the Stone Age - "The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret" Wheatus - "Teenage Dirtbag" Feeder - "Seven Days in the Sun" JJ72 - "Algeria" Placebo - "Taste in Men" Ocean Colour Scene - "Up On the Down Side" Grandaddy - "Hewlett's Daughter" Elbow - "Red" PJ Harvey - "A Place Called Home" My Vitriol - "Grounded" Bloodhound Gang - "The Bad Touch" Pepe Deluxé - "Before You Leave"

CD2:

Stereophonics - "Have a Nice Day" Doves - "Catch the Sun" Creed - "With Arms Wide Open" Turin Brakes - "Underdog (Save Me)" Lowgold - "Counterfeit" Thirteen:13 - "Truth Hurts" Matchbox Twenty - "If You're Gone" I Monster - "Daydream in Blue"

[spaceoddeity]

discovering the twenty one pilots lore really is just that Pepe Silvia Conspiracy Board Meme

[1randomperson15]

I need to share something absolutely hysterical.

Last night, I was playing a game that had different categories with questions (ex who is this character? Who said this? Where is this from?). You get twenty seconds to answer and unlimited guesses. The faster you type in the answer, the more points you get.

One of the categories was Memes & Internet. You could change the difficulty - easy, medium, and hard. We went through easy and medium (although those seemed less based on obscurity and what was more recent - more recent being in medium). It was of the caliber of Surprised Pikachu, Pen Pineapple Apple Pen, Pepe, Distracted Boyfriend - y'know, normal stuff.

And then hard mode. I'll be honest I don't remember which ones they were, but they didn't seem too obscure. It cycled through ones everyone knew and no one knew. Naturally, the scores were pretty close together. At this point, only one more correct answer was needed to win (for me and two others).

The next prompt popped up. It was a screenshot. The background had a grainy yellow and orange checkered floor and matching yellow columns. In the foreground was a poorly rendered 3D Sans Undertale and Danganronpa's very own Nagito Komaeda, both mid dance.

Now, in this game if you type an incorrect answer your opponents can see it. That means if you have the right answer and you spell or word it wrong they have a shot of guessing right before you. They will also see that you wrote Fingers In His Ass, with no context, if it's wrong. So this was high stakes, but clearly no one else knew what it was and I was one of the slowest typers there. I didn't know if I'd get another shot.

So while everyone was writing Sans or Undertale, and making various sounds of confusion, I quickly typed out Fingers In His Ass, hesitated for a second, and submitted

It was correct. I had won, so long as nobody else knew what it was, I was safe.

But that's not where the story ends, for you see after a round is over, the answer is revealed. Everyone else knew that I knew, because the game also shows if you got the correct answer. So while I was loudly celebrating my victory, they were questioning how and why I knew it as well as expressing slight concern.

Through my hysterical cheers and laughter I got out, "It's a tumblr thing! It's a tumblr thing! Y'know, Fingers in His Ass Sunday? It's like Out of Touch Thursdays, it's not that weird. We just use it to track time, okay? It's fine. Don't worry about it."

So now my church friends probably have a very weird perception of tumblr.

[zaeliaeve]

Flores [sergio ramos] CHAPTER 2

DISCLAIMER: This is 100% fiction and things will be inaccurate to real life. Any Spanish used is through Google Translate so my apologies if it's bad. 

-

2009

One week had come and gone. Catalina saw the reminder of her first day every time she looked in the mirror, the now yellowish bruise that rimmed against her left eye was a reminder of her poor reflex time.

Catalina had taken it upon herself to study each member of the squad, matching the teams' names to their faces. To make it a bit easier, she made a game of it. All of her mother's printer paper was gone as she printed each face out and handwritten the players' names one by one on small pieces of paper.

All twenty-six members laid in duly colored ink paper sprawled across her carpet floor.

Mr. Buzzcut who gave me the ice pack. Catalina laid the name 'Benzema' over the bald-headed man.

The other one with a buzzcut who has great aim and a strong kick   'Pepe' written in pink marker pen was placed over the photo.

When Catalina's dark eyes scanned over to the next photo, her lips curled down slightly. The long-haired defender who thinks I'm a complete idiot. It didn't take her long to seek out 'Sergio Ramos' in the pile and place the name over his face.

Catalina shrieked with embarrassment when she remembers herself getting smacked in the head with a ball in front of everyone and covers her face with her palms in an attempt to stop thinking about it.

Tomorrow was a chance for redemption. Real Madrid had their first official match of the season which was a big deal because the team was boasting a few new players, the most notable being Cristiano and Kaka. Naturally, with some of the biggest names in football, all eyes were on the Spanish team which added another layer of pressure.

The team was in a somewhat awkward growing stage of trying to figure each other out and gain chemistry, which luckily they had a good amount of organically. In an attempt to for team bonding, the staff invited them over to their dining hall to have dinner together before the season starts tomorrow.

Catalina wasn't quite sure why she was invited but took the invite nonetheless. It seemed to be a somewhat formal dinner, so she made an attempt to look presentable which was hard with yellow and purple still staining over her eye.

The hall had been transformed into a dimly lit atmosphere, with candles and red flowers decorating different thick white tablecloths in the middle of the room. Catalina was happy to have bumped into her uncle on the way in so they walked into together the room together,  easing some of the social anxiety that was screaming from her psyche.

She felt out of place watching these well-accomplished people filing into one room. There were world-class athletes, managers, and coaches whom she felt she didn't deserve to be around. Suddenly her thoughts got louder and harsher, distracting her from listening to her uncle's conversation with a manager about the upcoming season. Not wanting to cause any attention to herself, Catalina chose an empty table to set her purse down on as she took in deep breaths.

The fluffy cushion underneath her felt comforting as she leaned her elbows on the cloth table, in an attempt to feel something cool against her skin. "¿Estás bien?" A voice came from above, a careful hand on her back.

Catalina pulled her head up from her lap and breathed in heavily to be met with caring brown doe eyes and large furrowing brows. Instantly she knew his name from her flashcard game, Kaká.

"Yes, I'm just overwhelmed from the heat. I'm not used to it being this hot in August. Thank you though" She put on a big grin to assure him that she was alright, and he seemed to accept her answer.

Kaká nodded and slipped his hands off of her back and into his pockets. "How's my Spanish though? Could I convince you that I'm a true Madridista?" his tone was light-hearted and playful to ease the mood, a smile creeping onto his lips.

Catalina kept her smile, but this time it was genuine. "You are a true Madridista. You could never pass as a Spaniard, though. You have too many World Cups for that"

The chair squeaked under Kaká's weight as he sat next to her. "I only have one" Kaká told her, both of their bodies now at an even eye level in their seats.

"Exactly" A teasing giggle escaped past her pink glossed lips.

Kaká let out a small chuckle and kept his eyes focused on her. "I didn't catch your name at practice last week" he noted, causing Catalina to cringe internally at the memory of her first day.

Ignoring her face probably flushing red with embarrassment, she stuck her hand out to him. "I'm Catalina"

He seemed surprised by the gesture yet still took her hand into his with ease, shaking it slowly up and down "I'm Ricardo, but they call me Kakà"

"You're healing up well after your attempted assassination attempt by Pepe, Catalina" Karim's voice appeared from behind her, clearly having just learned her name from her current conversation.

Catalina looked Karim in the eyes and pointed to the obvious bruising on her face. "I don't know if healing up well is the right word" she laughed, earning a snicker from Karim.

One by one, each of the remaining empty seats got filled. Kakà stayed sat to her left, while Karim ended up sliding to her right which in turn drew in Sergio and Marcelo. When Sergio sat next to Karim, Catalina's heartbeat picked up once again. The girl tried everything within her power to keep her eyes focused away from the right side of the table. Why does he intimidate me so much?

Kakà was kind in speaking with Catalina, asking where she was from and how she got into photography. Catalina felt her breathing slow a bit when she got lost in the story Kakà was telling about his life in Brazil, capturing her attention fully; easing her mind off of the somewhat scary Spaniard.

The nicely dressed waitress offered a selection of salmon or chicken to each of the hungry members in the hall. Catalina turned her head to thank the waitress as she set a full glass of water down in front of her, catching a glimpse of Karim tapping Sergio to get up from his seat.

Karim and Sergio switched seats as Karim played a video to Marcelo off of his phone, leading the defensive player to be sat next to Catalina. "I told you! It was absolutely a foul! look at the way his leg moves over the line!" Karim shrieks to the curly-haired Brazilian, slapping his finger against the small screen.

Marcelo shakes his head at the younger player "They must be slipping acid into your water when you aren't looking, his leg didn't even move an inch." 

The Frenchman groaned in disbelief and hit the pad on his phone to rewind to prove his point further. Sergio now took the opportunity to crane his neck to get a peek at the footage.

"Catalina?" Kaká snaps her out of her trance of listening to the pair.

He held her hot plate of salmon in his hand since it was in an awkward place for the waiter to reach. Catalina jumped to take the steaming plate out of Kaká's hands, not thinking about full the glass of water to the right side of her.

Within a split second her elbow bumped into the glass, causing the cool water to splash directly into Sergio's lap. The defender winced at the sudden freezing sensation and stood up, the liquid now leaving a dark stain on his pants. His darkened eyes met Catalina's, her jaw dropping at the mistake she made.

Catalina's brain racked itself in an attempt to find the right words to say but when she felt his unwavering gaze on her, everything she knew washed away. All she managed to get out were useless stutters before grabbing a cloth napkin at the table and offering it to him with an unsteady hand. "I'm so so sorry that was a complete accident, I really didn't mean to do that" She flushed, her cheeks undeniably red now.

Sergio huffed and left her hand hanging as he grabbed another napkin off of the table in front of him "Las mujeres con derechos no pueden hacer nada bien, ¿verdad?" 

Catalina's frown deepened at his harsh words, but decided to not say anything else for fear of upsetting him worse. The accident caught the attention of everyone else at the table, all eyes now on the Spaniard. "Relax Sergio, it's just water. It'll dry" Kaká chimed in, his face completely dropping into a serious one, eyes narrowing. 

"It does look like you peed your pants though" Karim jokes in an attempt to lighten the sudden shift in mood.

Sergio rolls his eyes and storms out of the room, causing the rest of the table to fall silent. Tears prick Catalina's eyes as she rubs her temples. How do I mess everything up?

Karim leans forward to Catalina and shakes his head like it's no big deal. "That's just how Sergio is. I promise it isn't as bad as you think it is" he assures the visibly distressed girl.

Kaká's hand finds her upper back again in his way to show comfort. Not too long after that, Catalina makes up an excuse to go home and crawl under her heavy blankets. For the rest of the night, all she does is replay the moment over and over again in her mind. A heavy weight of guilt stays with her as she pictures his eyes glaring into hers. 

Sergio's words stayed with her long after the moon had left. The worst part is, is she completely understood where he was coming from. That didn't mean it hurt any less though. At some point in the early morning, her brain wore itself out and she drifted off into a deep sleep.

Much to Catalina's surprise, the next day was a lot better. It was her first time shooting pictures in the big stadium, and it went by without a hitch. She and another photographer stood on opposite sides of the pitch and captured all the most important moments. 

Real Madrid was on fire, all their hard work from practice paying off in a big way. Their chemistry translated just as well on the field as off, prompting their first win of the season. The stadium was packed to the brim, and the buzz of watching the new players added an extra element of excitement for the fans. 

Catalina didn't have much time to focus on the events of yesterday as she watched the match, intoxicated by the infectious energy the team exuded. She got some really great shots that couldn't wait to send to her boss, hopeful this will capture that the new Real Madrid team was a force to be reckoned with. 

When the match was over, a sweaty Kaká jumped on her with one of the widest smiles she had seen. "We're winners, pollita" he cheered drunk with happiness. 

Catalina returned his smile and wrapped one arm around him, the other holding her camera bag. "I'm so proud of you guys" 

"We're proud of you" he repeated back sincerely, still gripping onto her for dear life.

She smiled into his neck and held him a little tighter, needed to have heard those words. Soon another body toppled onto them and nothing else mattered anymore. The team had won, and ultimately the most important thing.

For now, she can ignore the stinging in her chest.

-

A/N: I really wanted to make this a slow burn, but I feel like maybe that bores some people. Thoughts on slow burn books?  Also, I promise Sergio isn't all evil! He does have a heart underneath all the hard exterior. All comments are welcome and deeply appreciated! Thank you for reading!

[yodeleyewho]

About EJO, from “The Making of Miami Vice”

- “Like Castillo, Eddie Olmos is a man whose life is centered around a sense of duty and dedication. ‘Success hasn’t changed Eddie at all,’ says his childhood friend Bob Wolf. ‘He’s very loyal to his friends. No matter where he’s been, he’s always kept in touch.” … Wolf explains that Olmos helped him through some rough times when he was diagnosed as having multiple sclerosis twenty years ago. “He’s very much a humanitarian. Last year, for example, Eddie sent me one thousand dollars to give to my doctor at UCLE for research into MS.”

- “There’s a box of fan mail next to the computer—all of which Olmos will answer. ‘That’s one of the reasons we got the computer,’ his wife explains. ‘You wouldn’t believe some of the letter be receives.’ Like from the eighty-five-year-old woman who said she’d never written a fan letter before. ‘And the kids. So many kinds write.’”…

- “Olmos’s life goal, simply put, is to bring people more closely together through the arts. ‘Religion, culture, race, age, education, politics, and money are things that divide us. Division isn’t bad; it can be good. But the arts are what unite us. I can take a painting by a young, Russian Communist woman and show it to a conservative, elderly, while male Republican from Georgia, and he’ll understand it. He’ll look at the painting and say, ‘I enjoy that.’ For that single moment, he can unite himself through the art with a person who’s different from him.’ Religions, he feels, are more about division than unity of mankind. ‘Organized religion has its place, but it’s got a long way to go. The day that I see the Catholic ask the Mormon to call the Jehovah’s Witnesses so that they won’t be late for the Bar Mitzvah, is the day I’ll know that organized religion is understanding what’s going on.’”

- “Olmos, who was chairman of the actors section of Hands Across America, frequently extends his humanitarian concern beyond people he knows. The man behind the brooding face of Lt. Castillo, in fact, I’d a social activist who makes frequent appearances without charge. In the farming community of Homestead, south of Miami, he works with Mexican migrants, helping their organizers raise funds. He frequently speaks at prisons, juvenile detention centers, and inner city school. Even when the Coca Cola Company asked him to speak to their Hispanic and black bottlers in Atlanta, he refused to accept a fee. ‘His only condition for accepting the engagement was that the Coca-Cola people also line up several inner city schools where he could talk the same day,’ says Father Edward Olszewski, of St. Joseph parish in Miami Beach, who accompanied him…

- “When he accompanied Eddie to the set of VICE, he’s seen that same genuineness. ‘He talks to everyone—from the guy who sweeps the floor to the producer. No one’s too big or too small.’”…

- “…He turned down George C. Scott’s part in Fire Starter because he believed a real American Indian should’ve been used. For the same reason, he turned down a part in a miniseries called Mystic Warrior, and the lead role in Band of the Hand, a feature produced by Michael Mann. In Wolfen, however, he played a Mohawk Indian, a high steel worker, named Eddie. But first he asked permission from the American Indian Movement. Because of his concern that American Indians play themselves, a page of the directory of American Indian actors, which directors use for casting, is dedicated to him.”

- “Pepe Serna points out that Olmos was offered any role he wanted in Scarface, except for the two leads. He turned them down, however, because he didn’t agree with how Cubans were depicted in the film.”

[alsethwisson]

Some Tully fanon

Kermit Tully was married to Sola Paege, a sweet blond girl known as “Young Lady Piggy” for her rosey cheeks and general pudgyness. It was a relatively happy marriage, despite lady Sola’s capricious nature and Kermit’s obstinate character. Together they had seven kids, but only three survived into adulthood: their eldest daughter, Yde, and two sons:  Edmure and Medgar.

Lady Yde, or Uppity Yde as she was also known, was greatly loved by her father but caused him great trouble. She grew up a wilful, beautiful and smart young woman. It was said she was in love with a young Vance from Atranta who promised her to win a tourney held in her honor. Yde promised her hand to the winner and when a hedge knight named Gerbert the Heron won, she married him that very day. Furious, lord Kermit exiled both from his land, and Yde was forced into the life of a wanderer. But she endured, and when her brother Edmure was lord, he gave Erenford to her and her husband. The coat of arms of the newly established house Erenford depicts a heron with a fish in its beak, and its words are “Of skillful men and proud women”.

Edmure Tully, much unlike his sister or younger brother, was a calm and humble man, quick to laugh or cry. Still, he was a good warrior and a seasoned knight at barely twenty, distinguished at tourneys both in Riverlands and elsewhere. He took Elene Pyper to his wife, saying that redness of head is a treasure worth strengthening. He made himself a name at the Dornish War and became good friends with Rickon Stark, naming his firstborn after him. Being also the king’s good friend, he was slaughtered along with his friends by treacherous Dornishmen,

It is said that if Yde was uppity and prideful, her brother Medgar was thrice as bad. In his youth he dreamt of a white cloak, but lord Kermit made him marry one Ellis Frey, a cunning young woman. It is said she was the one to push him to try usurping his brother’s heir, but Ellis was long dead when Maegor Tully, as he became known, continued his unworthy quest.  Medgar demanded young lord Rikon Tully, barely two years old at the time, be deposed and his title given to him, a man grown and a father of three. Most lords were in favor, but his sister Yde who threw her glove in his face and demanded a trial by combat. Her husband was her champion, and Medgar was beaten almost to death. The Blessed King ruled him guilty of petty treason and confiscated his lands for the Crown, while his wife and kids stayed in Riverrun as hostages.

Lord Rikon was raised by his aunt lady Yde, a good friend to his half-Frey cousins and a bright young man. His wife was Lede Lefford from the Gold Tooth, an equally bright and bubbly young woman, known as Lede Brightsmile. Their only child was Peregrin, or Pepe. When young lord Pepe was six, both his parents perished in a hunting accident, and he himself survived only through cunning of lady Yde. For several years they had to seek refuge at Stonehedge, Raventree and even Winterfell, until King’s Justice found lord Medgar and he was send to the Wall. Both Medgar’s sons were killed in a siege, and his daughter took the veil. That was the end of Maegor Tully’s vile deeds.

Lady Yde became a subject of many songs. One is about her witty retort sent to the Unworthy King; another tells a story of a certain Blacktyde Ironborn, who chanced upon the lady and decided to kidnap her. Not only did she survive her captivity, but shamed said Ironborn into swearing fealty to her nephew Rikon. Which may be even true, since one ser Blacktyde was indeed Rikon’s sworn shield....

Lord Peregrin “Pepe” Tully married Catelyn Blackwood, daughter of Quentyn Blackwood and princess Gwenys. “Cat of Many Sorrows” was she called among smallfolk, and indeed her sorrows were many. Born prematurely, a litlle child of poor health, at the day of her father’s death she lost her mother not two years later and was brought up at King Aerys’s court by her mad uncle until Prince Maekar took pity on the three sisters and sent them to the Summerhall to wait on his daughters. It was there she met lord Pepe, a dashing squire of six and ten years, and they fell in love at first sight. Sickly as she was, she barely survived the birth of her firstborn, twins Celwyn and Celia, and had no more children. Still she and her husband enjoyed their marital rights with the help of the herb lore passed on lady Catelyn by her uncle. Those were the happiest seven years of her life, spend with a loving husband and beloved children in the castle she came to call her true home.

Seven years later a new sorrow struck poor lady Catelyn. Her dear husband was dead, claimed by short wasting sickness. But still she endured, her son Celwyn now lord Tully. For his wife she chose Jeyne Bracken, Otho’s grand-daughter, hoping to mend the rift between two great houses. Otho himself came to Riverrun to give away his daughter and to ask lady Catelyn for forgiveness. To further stress the reconciliation, lady Catelyn named her first grand-son Hoster, after Aegor Rivers, and her second was named Brynden.

Lord Celwyn and his wife were pretty close, and if they lacked love his parents had, they certainly were good friends. Lady Jeyne was respected, lord Celwyn was loved, and their children grew up in a peaceful home. But it was lady Celia whose fate doomed that family. Lady Celia was a nice young woman promised to Prince Jaehaerys; but when he went back on his promise, the King stripped him of his titles and elected Maegor the Gentle as his heir. Celia the Silver, as people called her, was Maegor’s beloved wife for ten long years until she finally had her first child. She wanted to give birth in Summerhall, surrounded by the royal family, and perished there with her son and her husband.

Lord Celwyn was broken by the sudden death of his twin, and his mind deserted him. Soon he took his own life. Lady Catelyn still endured, for her family’s sake, but it is told she has never smiled anymore nor has she laughed. She died peacefully in her bed being eighty and three years old.

[casitafallz-a]

Wanderer AU | Julieta, Pepa & Luisa ( minor  vague tw)

Both Julieta and Pepa were together when their AU was terminated; Luisa not too far away but all of them watched as their townspeople disintegrated before the land under their feet eroded away before they found themselves aboard a pirate ship in the early 18th century Caribbean; no longer at their Encanto.

Due to the confusion and rather shocking appearance, the two were taken prisoner into the brig of the ship and questioned but they were just as confused as the pirates.

Pepa’s weather cloud though had not gone unnoticed, nor the fact she was also a redhaired; women on board, redheads were often signs of bad luck on pirate ships but also the ‘ominous’ cloud above her head did little comfort to the crew. There was loud contemplation of if they should throw her overboard to spare their ship and their fortune but it was decided to sell the two at the nearest port, 1 days away. 

Despite the confusion, Pepa and Julieta tied themselves together using  Pepa’s headband, incase one of them dropped off to sleep and the other was taken; this would wake the other up. 

While Pepa wasn’t considered fortunate and often ignored by superstition, Julieta wasn’t which is where the paranoia and need to stay together was enforced after one tried to take Julieta by force but Pepa’s storm cloud zapped him and triggered a hurricane that nearly sunk the ship. The captain was forced to rule that any harm to either one would be their demise and left them two the brig. 

At the port, the weather turned naturally bad and worse as Julieta and Pepa were separated. Pepa wasn’t sold and so she was left beaten and left for dead while Julieta was sold to a brothel but that didn’t last as she killed her first client and escaped in his clothes, taking his money and went to find her sister.

Unknown to the two, Luisa had found herself at the port, taking the first day to quickly get a job, disguising herself as a man to do as as men got paid well and with her muscles, and build, it wasn’t hard to do. She took the name Luis and was able to accomplish manual labour fast but she quickly charged hefty for it than seem desperate for cash. 

Luisa’s first day would get her a room but on the second, her attention changed when she caught wind of a redhead with a cloud and immediately went to see. 

Luisa was horrified to find her Tia so injured, taking her back to her room to heal her but to both of their surprise, Pepa’s injuries were healing far faster than usual. Pepa let her know where Julieta last was so Luisa immediacy left to find her. 

For two weeks, Julieta was separated from them before Luisa was able to glimpse her mother almost getting into a bar fight before Luisa was able to step in; her mass and size quickly intimidated the group and Julieta was relieved to see her daughter and sister alive.

With Pepa’s cloud and weather shifts, the group decided to take to a ship to escape the island they were on and to start ‘fresh’ in a different port. Both Julieta and Pepa cut their hair short to match male disguises; Pepa enjoyed teasing Julieta on this look. Pepa hid her red hair under a hat, as again, redheads were still considered bad luck.

They got passage to a sailing port where they found jobs at a tavern, Julieta was the one to take her gender back after a few weeks of growing her hair back out to pose as sister to Pepe, and mother to Luis and to keep a firm hand in listening to gossip of the place they worked at; women were ignored but she, like the other two were quick to learn to draw a blade at a moment’s notice. 

For twenty five years, that was their life, Pepe worked as a shop keeper, eventual manager while Luis worked as manual labour and Julieta worked at a tavern. This put money in their pocket and they saved what they could, over time this was a lot.

Things changed as regulars noticed the trio’s lack of aging, which they had noticed but assumed no one else would. 

So they moved again, this time purchasing a small merchant ship and head south towards south America and Colombia in short trips, in a faint hope to find Encanto eventually; not knowing it wasn’t there. Settling for a few decades at a time, save money, move on was their eventual routine over the century.

[henrysfedora]

9, 28, 35!!

9. Last game you played?

....mafia 2, it really has become a comfort game for me, i've replayed it like twenty times and i STILL get excited when we're about to meet henry, i STILL get excited when we're about to meet leo and pepe lmao

28. Who got YOU into gaming?

my older bro :) he'd always let me join him and we'd play need for speed most wanted mostly. and we used to play mafia: tcolh !!! i have such faint memories but those were the fucking days, never knew where our copy went but ugh, nostalgia. we'd go around and commit genocide, as one does. my older sis played crash bandicoot and spyro with me as well.. the duality of the games i used to play, traumatised mafia men and a purple dragon going around collecting crystals

35. Best protagonist? 

i don't wanna say vito scaletta but, damn lmao. mafia 1 & 2 are the only good games with a protagonist and story where you don't just make and design the protagonist yourself or have some cardboard cut out of a dumb trope stuck behind a first person POV that i've really been able to sit down and play the whole game all by myself. so i really love vito- but i am playing rdr2 so. I love vito but arthur is probably the best written protag i could think of (sorry vito, if only you were a cowboy where you got a complete and loved game and finished story 😔) although i could very easily say tommy angelo is a greatly written protagonist as well because i've actually finished mde

...it's a close tie between tommy and arthur for best imo but i'm standing here hugging vito either way because i love him

[mechanicalinertia]

STMPD Recommends Bubblegum Crisis Fanfiction: Chris Davies' Best Of All The Years 2

I have been doing this for over a year, now. I'm certain of it. It hasn't exactly attracted big traffic, but it's been... funny. Cathartic. Entertaining to me, at least? Look, doing pointless things tied to Crisis is sort of my default mode, and it's not a good default mode, but it's my default mode so I'll cling onto it beyond reason.

Of course, I've been doing a lot less of these. One runs out of interesting fics to review when the fandom is basically a few dozen people on a Discord, a few hundred people on a subreddit, and some ageing Gen Xers who use neither (most of the fiction writers who I've cited, like Shawn Hagen, Bob Schroeck, etc). Or, well, there are still interesting fics to review, but reviewing them would not be a fun process for me. YT2032, Meat Jacket, the usual suspects. Obviously I wrote a well-received post about a common thread in a lot of those fics, but that doesn't exactly mean I reviewed a given fic completely, did I? Well, I'll get to them. Eventually. Someday. Maybe I'll transition to recommending various things that I read? Ranma fic, Edgerunners fic... sky's the limit at that point. Have I talked about doing that before? I have, haven't I? Well, to hell with that.

It's time to talk about Best Of All The Years 2, arguably the fic that got me into the concept of Priss x Sylia being a couple.

Now, look. BoatY 2(oh my god that is the funniest acronym ever that's incredible holy shit what the hell) isn't just a sequel to BoatY 1, it's a sequel to Together Again: 2937 Chapter, Davies' gigacrossover involving pretty much every big anime that ever was popular in America in the 90's. That means not just Sailor Moon is mixed in, but Tenchi Muyo, Dirty Pair, Ranma, Patlabor, Ah My Goddess, Gall Force, and a bunch of other things which are referenced in the story's gigatimeline. I mean, Together again 2937 is like 350 pages of script-format fic (I recommend downloading as a PDF and reading it that way), and then there's the 1996 chapter which is Ranma-centric (450 pages, I think), and then there's the incomplete Silver Millennium chapter - yeah, the stories move backwards in time compared to the order Davies wrote them in - and as such, if you think I'm reviewing that shit, prepare to be very fucking disappointed. Maybe in some later year, when I can explain everything that goes on in it without sounding like a Pepe Silvia-grade nutcase.

For now, though... well, Davies helpfully provides a summary of 2937 on the first part of the story, and the only thing that's really plot-relevant from Together Again is that, after saving Queen Serenity from an elaborate plot involving the Dirty Pair as puppets, Sailor Pluto allows Priss to save Sylia from the suitcase nuke she sets off inside GENOM Tower around 2040, dragging her back to the present. That's it, that's pretty much all you need to know (Well, besides the fact that Nene's dead, but that's not really important). That's it. I swear to god.

After that... Well, Priss lies that she's a clone because she's pissed at Sylia once it turns out Sylia was cyber-enhanced the whole time, and is nervous about having lost most of her memories past 2033 or so, there's a lot of relationship angst, a ghost intervenes, they make up, they make love, and Priss stays on as a hardsuited warrior while Sylia retires to be a detective. I don't know what else to tell you, other than Priss is drinking buddies with Sailor Mars and Ayeka from Tenchi - and was buddies with Shampoo from Ranma until she fucked off into deep space, but again, that's Together Again material. Oh, and Rally Vincent was Sylia's mother. Not sure if we're talking about blonde Rally from Riding Bean, or tan Rally from Gunsmith Cats, but I would have to assume the former considering that Sylia isn't, y'know, of dark complexion.

Yeah, it's kind of hard to talk about this one, isn't it? Mostly because there's not a whole lot there, it's over and done with in I'd want to say under twenty thousand words. And what is there doesn't quite reach the heights or depths of emotional heft that I want from PrissxSylia fanfic, because Davies seems to have decided that Shakespearian-level misunderstandings are key to their relationship troubles (Priss sings a song from ADP Files in recollections during Together Again 2937, and Sylia literally assumes that the song is about how much she sucks and gets all self-loathe-y about it). I want to say I've at least tried to base Priss and Sylia's friction in deeper-rooted misunderstandings about the other woman based off of warped things in their own worldviews, though whether or not I succeeded is really not up to me.

But BoatY 2 still has one good card to play, namely seeing from both Priss and Sylia's perspective what happened once Priss travelled back in time to bail her lover out, there in the bowels of Quincy's kingdom. There are some... interesting revelations on Quincy's part as to the true nature of the conflict Sylia has been waging. I won't spoil them beyond saying that they resemble Bubblegum Crusade's ideas about Quincy's ties to Sylia, and that you can just read part 1 and get them. For that, and that alone, flip through this fic.

[metro-renovation-construction]

5 Reasons to Choose an Interior Designer in Miami

In the Miami area, there are numerous interior designers. Some are well-known names in the industry, and some have become household names as a result of their work. Here are a few reasons to hire an interior designer in Miami. One, you'll benefit from their expert knowledge of building codes. Another, they'll be able to follow building codes, so you can rest assured that your home's design will adhere to all local regulations.

Ivette Arango

Ivette Arango is one of Miami's most respected interior designers, and her studio, located on Palermo Avenue, is a must-visit. Her contemporary design aesthetic is characterized by clean lines and streamlined, custom furniture. Arango has extensive experience in luxury residential and commercial design and has won numerous awards. Her designs have received national attention, and she's worked on projects for prestigious institutions including Holtz Children's Hospital. She is also active in local civic and philanthropic organizations, and is a former board member of the Florida Board of Architecture and Interior Design.

Whether you're looking for a contemporary or timeless look, Ivette Arango has the experience to deliver. The firm has worked on countless projects, from luxury residences in Coral Gables to Key Biscayne penthouses. With over 50 years of experience in luxury design, Ivette Arango's expertise in the field has helped make many of the most luxurious homes and offices in South Florida. Although she's been hailed as one of the best interior designers in Miami, Arango's work is more eclectic and diverse than the usual contemporary or modern category.

A look at Ivette Arango's portfolio can give you a good idea of what she does. She has worked in a variety of fields, including government and private sector economic development. Prior to joining Ivette Arango Interiors, she was a consumer member of the state board of architecture. She also served as the vice president of corporate relations for the Beacon Council in Miami-Dade County and worked as a state legislative affairs coordinator. She also earned her law degree from the University of Miami in 2000.

Pepe Calderin

Having over twenty years of experience in high-end interior design, Pepe Calderin runs one of the best interior design firms in Miami. Pepe Calderin Design specializes in modern, innovative design, earning national and international accolades. He is licensed in the state of Florida and has a diverse portfolio of work. His designs have appeared in top design publications such as Ocean Drive Magazine, Florida International, South Florida Edition, and Casa & Estilo.

Known for combining art, technology, and aesthetics, Pepe's designs incorporate Miami's stunning beaches. His designs are clean, structured, and offer coastal vibes. His work can be found in residential homes, commercial buildings, and yachts. His renowned attention to detail makes his work a perfect match for any client. In Miami, there's no shortage of inspiration: the vibrant nightlife, gorgeous beaches, and rapid growth make it a perfect place to design and decorate.

Known for his sophisticated designs, Taize Monteiro has studied in Spain, Italy, and the United States. Taize has a wide range of experience, having studied interior design in Spain, Italy, and New York. His work is found in homes all over South Florida. His mission is to create spaces that cater to families and improve the quality of life. Listed below are some of his recent projects.

Laetitia Laurent

Laetitia Laurent is a French-born interior designer who has built a successful career in Miami, Paris, and New York. Inspired by the European design movement, Laurent has made her French style accessible to Miami residents. The result is a sophisticated and aesthetically pleasing home, which seamlessly merges European flair with Miami ambiance. Her attention to detail and innate ability to create a unique design style are just a few of the traits she possesses.

Born and raised in Paris, Laurent studied art and design at the Sorbonne and holds a master's degree in international relations. She speaks fluent French and travels to France often to visit artisans and find unique materials. With more than a decade of experience, Laurent has won numerous design awards. Her recent accolades include a prestigious International Design Et El Award for Best City Space and a Wall Street Journal and Forbes Magazine mention.

In Miami, Laurent has become one of the leading interior designers. Her attention to detail and the quality of her work has earned her a worldwide reputation. She is able to make even the most modest space feel palatial and elegant. And her attention to detail, both in materials and design, is second to none. Laetitia's work is known for its sleek and sophisticated style.

J Design Group

If you are looking for an interior designer, you have probably come across the name of J Design Group before. The company specializes in high-end residential interior design, and they have extensive experience in some of South Florida's most elite neighborhoods. The interiors of J Design Group's past projects are simply stunning, thanks to their innovative designs and exceptional attention to detail. Read on to discover why J Design Group is one of the best interior designers in Miami.

If you're looking for the best interior designer in Miami, there are several options to consider. The first is Jamie Bush. Born and raised on Long Island, Jamie Bush studied architecture and art in Venice, Italy, where he became fascinated with the natural world. He then earned his Masters of Architecture at Tulane University and pursued mid-century modern residential architecture. Since 1983, Bush and JGA have been working together on award-winning projects.

The second is Ivette Arango. Founded in 2004, the J Design Group is one of Miami's most prominent interior design firms. With over 50 years of experience, she has created stunning interiors for Miami homes and businesses. She has been a part of prestigious projects like luxury hotels and Spanish villas. Her work has been featured in numerous publications, including Elle Decor and Architectural Digest. In addition to being ranked among the best interior designers Miami, Avanzato is well-regarded for its innovative ideas and impeccable aesthetics.

Epicoutu Designs

If you're looking for a modern, contemporary, and luxurious interior, look no further than Epicoutu Designs. With access to over a thousand designers, this Miami-based company can create the perfect space for any budget. Their executives provide a mix of traditional and modern interior design styles, and their buyers can expect a truly unique piece of furniture. Additionally, the firm's team sources the finest accessories and furniture to complete the project. Their work has been featured in various publications, including Ritz Carlton and Florida Design.

Sismai Roman is an experienced interior designer specializing in luxury spaces. She is a member of the Design District of Florida, where only top interior designers can practice their craft. Her experience and flawlessly completed projects have helped her establish her reputation as the best Miami interior design firm. She is known for her ability to create a space that is a reflection of the client's personality and lifestyle.

Sismai Roman is a Miami interior designer who opened her firm with the intention of making everyone's dreams come true. A passionate traveler, she brings her extensive international experience to each of her projects. She is known for her attention to detail and her willingness to push boundaries. Her design team believes in transparency, and they go above and beyond every project. If you're looking for an interior designer in Miami, look no further.

Darla Powell Interiors

The best interior designers in Miami are a dime a dozen, but when it comes to quality and value, one name stands out above the rest. Darla Powell, a former Miami police sergeant, began her career in interior design after working at her grandmother's antique shop. She was dissatisfied with her life in law enforcement, and decided to pursue her true passion, interior design. Since then, she has been creating homes in Miami with her interior design firm. Darla Powell Interiors has featured in many publications, including Architectural Digest Pro, Designers Today, and Voyage MIA.

During the show, LuAnn and Darla became friends with each other over their shared love for interior design and the world of social media. They continued their friendship through designer Facebook groups and Instagram. LuAnn became friends with the designers she interviewed. The two designers have many friends in common. So, it is natural that their friendship grew from there. Darla Powell Interiors is the best interior designer in Miami for a reason.

The Interior Designer Spotlight is a series highlighting talented designers in various cities. The first one is Darla Powell of Miami. Her eclectic furniture selection and works of art match the serene atmosphere in the interior. Powell's attention to detail is impeccable and the result is a home that is both inviting and comfortable. It's a great way to create a home that feels like a sanctuary in a city full of energy and excitement.

Paris Forino Design

A highly regarded Miami interior designer, Paris Forino's aesthetics combine traditional and modern styles to create spaces of timeless elegance. The designer's attention to detail allows her to make use of a wide range of materials, including bespoke furniture and textiles, to create a truly entrancing ambiance. The resulting spaces are both beautiful and functional, creating an emotional experience for guests and residents alike.

One of the most well-known projects that Paris Forino has worked on is Missoni Baia, a luxury condo building in Miami's Edgewater neighborhood. The project features Paris Forino-designed interiors and a spa designed by Aman. The Missoni Baia project boasts a dazzling array of amenities, including a private elevator and oversized windows with stunning views.

The firm's portfolio boasts an impressive list of clientele. Not only are their projects showcased in major design centers, but they have also featured in numerous magazines. Some of their projects have been featured in Elle Decor, Architectural Digest, NBC New York's Open House TV, and Interior Design. They are also consistently ranked among the top interior designers in New York. While many interior designers may be best known for a single project, they are highly talented and renowned in the field.