btw they both wore the exact same designers that they wore for the Australia premiere /photo all thing & they both said it was their own choices to wear these designer tonight, I will just leave it there
This is a drawing by my 3-year-old nephew, I guessed for a long time what it was, I couldn't guess. When I asked him what it was, he said a hole.
This is how I feel since October 2024, what I look at, what is presented to me, is not actually what I think. The last few weeks have been very messy, but only artists know what it is supposed to be.
from the forthcoming manual: âShipping for Dummies (and the Deeply Deranged)â
So, youâve decided to ship Lukola.
First of all: Iâm sorry.
Second: Welcome!
Third: Have you updated your will?
Lukola, or Nuke as itâs called in certain circles in my living room, is the possibly-real, definitely-chaotic pairing of Luke Newton and Nicola Coughlanâseems at first like a dream ship. The chemistry? Electric. The interviews? Flirtatious. The mutual giggling, the eye contact, the lack of personal space. the entire filming and subsequent world tour for Bridgerton season three seemingly choreographed to scream âthey are obsessed with each otherâ? Itâs all there.
And yetâŚ.
To be a Lukola is not to coast on confirmation.
No.
It is to live in a purgatory between delusion and PR warfare, caught in a never-ending loop of polaroid sightings, suspiciously specific Spotify lyrics, and red carpet appearances that feel like AI hallucinations. It is to be gaslit, girlbossed, and gatekept by People magazine captions that say âjust friendsâ while his eyes are down her shirt and her mother is weeping about âthe oneâ.
At some point, you stop asking, âAre they together?â and start whispering, âWhat is real?â
Because Lukola isnât a shipâitâs a lifestyle. Itâs herding kittens. Itâs solving a Rubikâs cube blindfolded in a hurricane. Itâs trying to explain to a normal person why a now long-gone Instagram story featuring the phrase âHey Aâ might be a response in a war about a Cypriot dancer and a pirate coat. Itâs watching a fandom calm down just in time for a surprise Boogergate stroll, followed by a two-week scrubbing of all evidence and a quiet reappearance of The Ringânow moved half a knuckle to the left, sparking seventy-three Tumblr posts and an emergency Zoom call.
You honestly do join for the romance.
You stay because youâve forgotten what peace even feels like.
There is no beginner mode. There is only organized confusion and choosing your favorite Claddagh timeline working backwards from Italy. Either theyâre together and hiding it to protect everything, or they were together, and now they arenât, or theyâre faking everything to protect someone else, or they were never anything and this is all projectionâbut then what do you do with things like Chaos week and blacked-out forks and a woman who suddenly canât walk down stairs in flats without help?
Sometimes, there are days of calm. She posts about skincare and he will disappear entirely. The ring is neither here nor there. You think maybeâjust maybeâitâs over.
And thatâs when we get olives, or moles, or background photobombs at concerts of former Disney Channel co-stars who have now convinced kids they are punk because they dyed their hair black and know how to sneer.
Where were we?
Oh right: Chapter 7. Not a guide, not a warning. It is instead a eulogy for your sanity. But if youâre reading this, chances are youâre already in too deep.
And for that, I apologize profusely.
Welcome to Lukola- where the timelines are contradictory, but at least the screenshots are well-organized.
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