#and those are notoriously terrible at cooling

[grumpy-bat-central]

if your computer FRIES running anything then it's a problem with your computer. A properly working computer will NEVER get damaged from running a program (unless said program is a virus that overrites built-in protections, and there have been one or two instances of games doing that because they were so incompetently made). A computer WILL ALWAYS safely shut down if things start to go to shit, and ideally it will never even reach that point. That's why we have features like thermal throttling. If anything burns/melts/stops working, that's because your computer got pushed to a degree it never should have. It would've had to have extremely poor or broken power management and/or cooling.

A GAME CANNOT MELT YOUR HARDWARE UNLESS YOUR HARDWARE IS ALREADY FUCKED UP

you genuinely don’t have to increase graphics in games anymore. I don’t have a spaceship to run this on. My previous laptop blew up trying to run animal jam. I was more than happy with Skyrim graphics and portal 2 looks breathtaking to me. I just want to be able to play your game. I don’t want to see their pores and uncannily delineated teeth. One time fallout 4 crashed so hard it basically uninstalled itself from my computer. Ffxiv completely fried my laptops motherboard and I just kept playing ffxiv anyway. For where else would I go? Who else could I love but you

[theanxiousfireblossom]

Kaz Brekker is such a wildcard of a human being. This teenager is one of the most notorious criminals of the Barrel, but is also the most fair person you could make an agreement with. Don’t get me wrong, he is merciless and really will only do what benefits him, but those traits are what make him trustworthy.

I haven’t read Crooked Kingdoms yet, so everything is based off of SoC, but we get to see MULTIPLE times how he doesn’t go around sharing secrets. He knows almost everything about Nina’s backstory with Matthias, but never said a word about it. Later, Wylan tells him he can’t read and Kaz again keeps the secret until the moment it needs to be revealed, and even then I believe it was Wylan’s father that revealed he couldn’t read, not Kaz. He really is someone that can be trusted not because he is a good person who will protect you, but because the value of the information stays higher if it doesn’t get spread around.

Then there are the deals he makes. He never makes a bad deal that the other person cannot pay off. Almost all the crows talked about that at least once. He makes it possible to get out so long as they are smart about their money. He does not want to do to someone else what was done to him. Unless it’s Pekka Rollins, which is fair.

I really love how Pekka Rollins managed to make a very fair, business minded criminal simply by not being fair himself. He made a terrible person in the process, but a trustworthy one and the juxtaposition is really cool to me.

Also, it kills me that the reason he is so good with magic tricks has absolutely NOTHING to do with being a criminal mastermind. He just liked the funky little tricks.

[meglosthegreat]

I see a lot of posts on here talking about the Solas/Elgar'nan segment in Blood of Arlathan and how it's one of the best scenes in the game, and they'd be right, but I don't see enough people talking about how comically the whole thing is undercut by quite possibly the most poorly-conceived, terribly-implemented looney-tunes-ass sequence in gaming history that surrounds it.

Like you show up with your friends to this Venatori party, and you're like great, we're sneaking in! Time for disguises. How convenient that these Venatori guys all wear hoods, right? Should be a piece of cake if we're all, you know, wearing hoods that would helpfully hide our identities. But no. We all go waltzing in with our whole-ass faces exposed, you know, the group of guys that have been murdering Venatori left and right and who Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain have definitely all seen in person before. Oh, and don't worry about walking into this notoriously racist elf-sacrificing cult if you happen to be an elf! You're only here in disguise so that you can rescue a GROUP OF ELVES THEY'RE GOING TO SACRIFICE but it's ok because you're dressed as a mercenary and not a dalish so it's all good don't worry about it :) :)

Then you get into this fucking party and oh my fucking god it's like they decided to take all of the most comically over-the-top stereotypes of villainy and put them on display. Because why not! The Venatori are all sickos anyway so of course they'd be out here doing sicko things! There's some guys pulling a halla apart with blood magic! There's other guys using slaves as benches! They're all laughing and joking about how EVIL they are, hahaha, how cool is that? The fucking guy from D'Meta's Crossing is here if you don't let him die, because he's a fucked up evil sicko too! You're supposed to be shocked at this hideous display; recoil in horror, even!

And who do you bring with you to help get through this crowd of absolute lunatics? NEVE FUCKING GALLUS. You know, the person so well-known in Minrathous that a Dalish elf living in Arlathan KNEW HER BY REPUTATION. Yup, Neve Gallus with her INTENSELY RECOGNIZABLE PROSTHETIC just waltzes up to some guy and he just lets her in. Because being EVIL also makes you incapable of coherent thought, apparently.

And then. AND THEN. You walk across the bridge where Elgar'nan makes his thought-sounds at you, and YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING PARTY is already there, just hanging out nbd. Also not wearing hoods or any kind of disguises that couldn't instantly be seen through by a five-year-old with amnesia but ok, cool. Why did we bother walking through all those sickos then when we could've just taken the secret back entrance like the rest of them, idk.

But just when you think you've reached peak stupidity, it keeps going. You're now standing there, at the front of a crowd of about twelve people, approximately five feet away from Elgar'nan himself, inexplicably blending in, when the big guy puts the mind control whammy on everyone. Oh no, you think. We've been found out! Here's the part in the plan where things begin to go wrong! NO. Your mage friends SECRETLY PERFORM MAGICAL GESTURES to block the mind control, and then you LITERALLY FUCKING SIDLE OFF STAGE LEFT without ANYONE NOTICING. I should reiterate that at this point, you are still about FIVE FEET AWAY FROM ELGAR'NAN and his fucking ARCHDEMON.

And to conclude this absolute comedy of idiocy, as soon as you enter back into combat mode, you immediately ditch all of your disguises. And of course then, ONLY THEN, Elgar'nan notices you've been there. Cut to the end of the actual good sequence, this dramatic conversation performed by excellent voice actors and written miles better than most other things in this game, and you reach your final prize: about six guys trapped in a little cube. Cool, you tell yourself. This was definitely worth it. You take your fade-to-black teleporter back to the Lighthouse and they're never heard from again.

This was the quest that broke me. This was the moment that all hope for Veilguard finally snapped. I consider myself to be a very resilient person in the face of camp and goofy writing, but this was too much disbelief for my brain to suspend. The mental gymnastics necessary to make this whole sequence make any kind of sense were simply beyond me. Even Solas's dulcet tones could not salvage it for me after that.

[s4turns-st4rs]

baby, please come home !

🎁 ﹐ ♡﹒ regulus black oneshot﹒ ᶻ ᶻ

𝐚/𝐧: did someone ask santa for christmas fluff with baby fever regulus? (i did.) well, if you did, merry early christmas! enjoy lovelies xxx

requests are always open <3

in which: when regulus returns to 12 grimmauld place years later, it’s a lot more festive than he remembered…

words: 1.2k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none!

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: christmas (baby please come home) - u2

the first thing regulus black felt as he reentered 12 grimmauld place, uncharacteristically decorated for the festive season, was disgust. which he immediately shunned. that was just his parents’ thoughts, haunting and mocking him as he tried to move beyond the cynical teachings of his childhood. it was christmas, and he was safe, and home with his loved one … and the rest of the order, he supposed.

still, his terrible thoughts taunt him.

“this isn’t what mother would have wanted.”

too bad. he thought defiantly. mother can suck my big fat—

well, it’s my house now. and i do what i want with it. and i’ll fill it with as many so called “blood traitors” as i please.

regulus watched as the usual still and stoic rooms of 12 grimmauld place bustled with christmas cheer. it was unfamiliar to him, but so was the feeling of unrivalled joy that came with the lights and wreaths. it had been a stressful time for the order of the phoenix (understatement of the millennium, regulus thought dryly) and everyone was grateful for the sense of holiday cheer.

it felt so new to him, the sight of molly and arthur weasley’s comfortable bickering, and remus lupin and his brother’s usual sense of longing. and, of course, the only remaining sense of the dull house he grew up in, the sound of kreacher’s groans and complaints from upstairs.

and he couldn’t deny the sudden sense of paternalism at the sight of the mass of teenagers running around. which, mind you, he promptly dismissed. he would be just a bad father (hypothetically of course) as his own. although, as he watched you chat animatedly with ginny as you helped her hang the tinsel along the staircase rail, he didn’t mind the thought of having one of your own. or two. or three. or hundreds. he’d sort out the details later.

as the light outside dimmed and molly called the hoard of teenagers into the kitchen to aid with her extensive festive meal preparations, regulus used the opportunity to pull you to the side. which, just so happened to be his childhood bedroom.

as you unknowingly ogled his rather simple and since emptied room, a maelstrom of emotions raged in regulus’ tired brain.

“do you want to have kids?” he blurted suddenly. good god. that was certainly less poetic and romantic than he had hoped.

but a sense of relief (and the stubborn sense of embarrassment) filled his veins as you responded with a kind chuckle.

“seeing all those weasley kids is making you think, hm?” you asked, a hint of teasing in your voice as you spoke knowingly, to which regulus just shrugged sheepishly.

“but seriously? … i’d like that.” you said quietly, intertwining your hand with his, feeling the cool metal of his wedding ring upon your palm.

and regulus couldn’t help the look of absolute elation (and shock) at your response. he instinctively squeezed your hand tighter, pulling you closer to him, so his free hand rested on your hip. the peaceful moment was interrupted by molly’s cry of “dinner’s ready!”, and the two of you watched through the open door as the hoard of kids raced towards the smell of her notoriously mouthwatering food.

the two of you followed, waiting in the doorway as you admired the festive atmosphere of the dining room. it seemed the whole order had coupled off, whether the relationship be “official” or not.

“young love, huh.” he mused, watching ginny and harry, and hermione and ron, respectively.

“… and not-so-young love.” you added, glancing from sirius and remus, to the mistletoe growing above you, the familiar green leaves appearing on the doorframe.

“hey, i’m still in my prime.” regulus protested with a dramatic frown.

you can’t help the laugh that escaped you at your husband’s pouty face. “sure, my dear.” you said, the teasing cynicism dripping from your voice that always made regulus feel some type of way.

he followed your line of sight, admiring the beautiful plant above the two of you. “i’d rather you just kissed me than question my youthfulness that i practically exude—” regulus began, before you did as he asked, closing the distance between you and pressing your lips to him.

it must’ve been the millionth time you’d kissed, but god, regulus still felt fireworks in his bones at the feeling of your soft lips on his. he wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling your body into his, and let his other hand tangle in your hair. you felt yourself shiver at his reverent touch, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

“i can’t wait to have your kids.” you murmured against his lips. he felt his blood rush at the feeling of your warm breath on his lips.

suddenly, a loud cough came from the kitchen, and regulus felt himself pulling away from you. molly weasley gave the two of you a scolding look, but the hint of fondness in her eyes was clear. well, clear to you, anyway.

“sorry, molly…” regulus said sheepishly, letting his hands drop back to his side, looking like a wet, guilty little puppy.

“just the young lovebirds, you two.” she murmured with a doting shake of her head, as she served the christmas ham onto a large plate. “you think your honeymoon would’ve finished after all these years.”

“nope.” you said simply, with a teasing grin, and unsubtly pinch a ‘pig in blanket’ from the mountainous platter of finger food. she gasped in mock offence, and you took your seat at the dining table amongst the rest of the order. regulus followed behind, pulling out the chair beside you, and taking a seat.

he rested a hand on your thigh, his long slender fingers playing absentmindedly with the soft fabric of your skirt as he spoke with remus. you watched on silently, as he reminisced with his old classmate, and his brother occasionally chipping in, rather loudly. it was nice to see him being social, especially with remus and sirius.

“you’re really smitten, huh?” george weasley asked quietly so regulus couldn’t hear, leaning towards you with a little smile.

“how’d you know?” you ask, looking from your husband back to george, resting your hand on top of his that still remained on your thigh.

at that, george gave a teasing chuckle. “you look at him the way dad looks at mum.” with that comment, you look over at his father arthur, who’s making heart eyes at molly, even if she’s just doing mundane kitchen cleaning.

“i s’pose i do.” you murmured, admiring regulus as his speech became more animated, louder and more passionate.

fred leaned over beside his twin, and made a fake gagging sound at the sight of you gazing at your husband. “guess you’re stuck in a long ass marriage.”

“good luck with that.” george added, as a knowing smirk crossed his face.

“thanks, but, as cliché as it sounds,” you said, looking over at your husband fondly. “with him…” he was so swept up in his conversation, vividly waving his left hand to further his point, but his right hand never left your thigh.

“i don’t need luck.”

[thekoalapastriesbakery]

Singer!Male reader being flirted with by franco (having been invited by apline for half the season if thats a thing) but reader see's him as a slightly funnier version of his ex, said ex would flirt with everyone like franco does have all these rumors about him sleeping around (ex was famous too) and even have a supposed side piece which he drags to readers concerts, anyway franco is obviously not getting very far but he does make some head way once he hears some off handed rumors from other drivers and stops flirting so much with others that aren't reader which leads to franco asking reader out, reader saying yes and after like the third or fourth date telling franco why he didn't want to date him then they live happily ever after. – 🍑

you're really cautious about franco. you'd never so much as spoken to him at all, but he reminded you too much of your ex. sure, you were the only man he flirted with as openly as he flirted with women, but that wasn't necessarily an argument in his favour. your ex was notoriously untrustworthy, and you'd missed all the signs.

from the very beginning, your friends had warned you about how your ex had flirted with just about everyone. you'd waved them off and said he was just a flirty guy–it didn't mean anything!

when the rumours started that he was sleeping around, you still didn't listen. a number of other celebrities had been speculated to have had at least a brief fling with your boyfriend at the time. an even more numerous group of fans claimed they'd had romantic or sexual experiences with him. it killed you, because deep, deep down, you knew they were telling the truth. but denial was a powerful thing.

and so it continued. the rumours, the missed calls and cancelled dates, the nights he came home smelling like someone else. you didn't want to believe any of it. even when there were whispers about him bringing a sidepiece to your concerts, you didn't believe it. obviously those rumours were fake. he'd never be so audacious as to cheat on you at your own show.

then you saw him one night. singing the love song you (regretfully) wrote for him, and you see him mouthing the lyrics lovingly to the person beside him and kissing them like you were just some disembodied voice.

you damn near stopped the show right then and there. you didn't. as terrible as you felt, as hurt as you were, your fans meant twice as much to you as he ever did. you wouldn't let them down. you did, however, announce a brief intermission at the end of that song. the second you were backstage and your mic had been turned off, you called security and told them to get him and his date out.

your manager got a head-start back to the hotel room you were sharing with your boyfriend to grab your things. you went back on stage, and very publicly announced that you were freshly single.

franco did much of the same things. you hadn't heard any rumours of him ever cheating on a partner, but he flirted with anyone in front of him, he had a reputation as a playboy, and he was brazen with his relationships. when he started leaving flirty (and, on occasion, outright thirsty) comments on your posts, you ignored it. you couldn't put yourself through that again.

getting invited to a grand prix with alpine was not even slightly on your bucket-list, but ... you had always taken an interest in the sport, and it would be cool to see it up close and personal ... so you accepted.

initially, franco's in-person flirting was just as blatant as his online persona. he had no issue making rather suggestive comments or looking at you like you'd hung all the stars in the sky. yet, when he made absolutely no headway with you, he decided to ask around. the other drivers–shameless gossips as they were–knew much of the issues with your previous relationship. george even offered to design a powerpoint presentation for franco, which the drivers just barely managed to avoid through their combined efforts.

it all made sense.

all at once, franco stopped flirting with interviewers, teammates, fans, and celebrities of all disciplines. if dedication was what he needed to prove to you he was serious, then by god you'd get it.

he was lucky alpine had given you an almost season-pass to join them at any race. what could you say? formula one was addictive. but it gave franco plenty of time to redeem himself and show you all the many ways he was better than your ex.

towards the end of the season, you finally agreed to go out with him. franco was so excited he would yap to anyone in the paddock who would listen. and even if they wouldn't he'd follow them around with a silly grin on his face. he'd done it! he was allowed to be happy.

there wasn't much left for you to explain. the rumours, the proof, the revolving door of flings your ex had were all very much out in the open for your entire relationship. you were just unfortunate enough to be blinded by rose-coloured glasses. nevertheless, you gave franco more detail about how you found out than you had ever given anyone else.

you were just glad you'd found someone who'd never put you through it again.

[cer-rata]

I did it, I finished the fic.

Cover by the amazing @nicodrawings

It's 109k and fully complete, welcome to my oc's first cursed, sappy adventure.

"Heart of Gotham"

Fandom: Detective Comics

Rating: T M

Summary:

Conrad Bishop thinks he knows who he is: A nerd, a goof, a coward. But heartbreak comes along to destroy that version of him. As he shatters, an alien ring decides that the depth of his pain has the potential to forge him into a potent Star Sapphire. While grief may be a devastatingly powerful form of love, can he survive on it alone? Maybe not. But it’s what he thinks deserves.

Everyone thinks they know who Damian Wayne is: A prince, a pariah, a hero. The truth is worse. No one thinks he’s easy to love, and he agrees. It’s fine. He doesn’t need it, he’s got duty and a body to spend in service of it until there’s nothing left to hate. But sometimes? Sometimes he wonders if that’s all he can be.

By chance they share the same science class, and--for better or worse--that's all it takes to send them on a path that neither of them would have ever dared to consider.

Love conquers all.

...Maybe

Excerpt:

Damian started changing out of his uniform and Conrad awkwardly looked away. He cleared his throat. “Hey, so, I’ve been thinking…”

“Hmm?” Damian grunted as he unclasped and slid his tunic off.

“Well, you used the ring to save me, right? But you know...the whole bit is that if you want to heal someone you have to…uh. You'd…you'd have to love--"

“Philia.” Damian cut in quickly.

“Did…did you--was that a slur?”

“…No! Philia is the Greek concept of love between friends. That’s what the ring was pulling from.” It was mostly true. It was mostly philia. Mostly.

Conrad considered that for a moment, then beamed. “Oh. Oh! So you admit it? You think we’re friends?”

Damian finished pulling a hoodie on and turned to squint at him. “How are you this stupid.”

“Oh my god you do!”

“If you’re like this for the entire ride back, there is a high likelihood that I will change my--oh come on!” Damian complained fruitlessly as he had to endure yet another hug. “I should have let you bleed out.” He hissed, and Conrad just laughed.

“I love you too, buddy.”

A tip of the hat:

Before I get into anything else, again the cover and reference sheet were done by the amazing @nicodrawings. She's terrific, professional, easy to work with (and I am ANNOYING), and I think the quality speaks for itself. Her art is tremendous and her covers are maybe the highest quality I've seen from an indie artist.

And those colors.

Her commissions are open right now and she's making a fan comic that looks so cool, and she does all this other cool stuff. Check her out, okay?

Concepts, Themes, and Character Focus

The core questions I wanted to ask were:

"Can two broken people ever be good for each other?"

"Can you actually move past the pain of loss?"

"How do you love someone?"

I love Lantern lore, and Star Sapphires specifically. Maybe too much

I was fascinated by a Corps that represented love but was usually fueled by despair and anguish instead, and wielded one of the harder to control colors of the Emotional Spectrum. So I decided to create one from scratch and place them in Earth's most notorious tragedy factory: Gotham City.

Conrad is shamelessly emotional and ruled by his affections, and was like that even before the ring. The only son of a pair of Haitian immigrants, Conrad grew up feeling very loved, and even his parents terrible handling of his attempt to come out wasn't enough to shake that. But his parents never really pushed him, and his easy-going nature meant he didn't develop a lot of self determination. Then he suffers an incredibly traumatizing loss, and suddenly his carefully laid carpet of normalcy and avoidance is torn up to reveal some structural problems underneath.

Damian is emotional and ruled by his affections, and is a little ashamed of it. He also felt loved when he was growing up, but unlike Conrad, much of the love he received was in the form of praise for his success, which had the unfortunate effect of making him seek approval in ways that were often unhelpful, most often to himself. He's tried so hard, and done so much work to be a better person, and he's even accumulated a group of peers who adore him. But he's still lonely, has trouble accepting his own progress, and the guilt he carries making new connections difficult.

Everyone is a couple of years older than they are in canon, which I did to make the content more appropriate, and also so I could play with the ambiguity of those three undocumented years, and hand wave away some of the more...uncharitable parts of canon without having to rewrite everything. This is Damian still on his early Rebirth character track, before the many resets to his character development. He's still harsh and somewhat antisocial, but he's also older, more mellow, and has worked through a couple of things. He's settled enough to allow for some honest introspection.

I didn't initially plan for this to be a love story, but their internal conflicts were complimentary and their deepest wishes slotted together so neatly that the direction felt natural. They cover many of each other's weaknesses and blind spots, while making some of their other hangups worse.

The romance isn't even the critical part really, it's just the way they end up expressing emotional intimacy. They are friends first, and that's what holds everything together. It's all about them showing up for each other in ways that are sometimes difficult, and the fact that they always will, regardless of whether they're in a relationship or not.

It's an awkward, intense, teen relationship, and it's not always a good thing for either of them--even before factoring in cosmic super weapons and secret identities.

Also, there are... a lot of cameos and odd side characters.

[becsabillion4]

take it out on me (carmen berzatto x reader)

so this is my first time posting a fic of mine on tumblr since i was 14 and i'm slightly terrified by the formatting but i posted this on ao3 yesterday and someone told me to post here too (<3) so i hope you all enjoy it as much as i enjoy the thought of getting pounded by carmy in the walk-in

pairing : carmen berzatto x f!reader

summary : Carmy is having a terrible service, and you're sure some time in the walk-in will help him cool off (although it gets hotter in there than you might think).

word count : 4,410

tags: SMUT, rough sex, angry sex, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, choking, semi-public sex, ending with soft carmy which makes it all okay, 18+ only

note: this is explicit 18+ only and also this is NOT an advert for safe sex, it is merely a fantasy i have been playing with since my own days as a waitress and carmy has helped me to realise it. also i'm obsessed and i know y'all degenerates won't send help so instead i ask that you send me asks so i can write more about this wonderful man

Disorienting. Overwhelming. Stressful, painful, unrelenting. Burning your hand hard enough for it to stick to the pan, hard enough that you know on the way to the sink it’s too late, that you’ll bear the scar of that mistake for the rest of your life. Knives slicing always so close to your skin, living on the point of pain, focus trained so hard on the blade you can’t even blink. Shouting, screaming, the place could be on fire, and you wouldn’t look up from the art you’re creating. Flames licking at your apron. Beautiful.

Kitchens are the prison and the heart of a chef, and the one at The Bear is currently the pride and the bane of your life. Plating up your one billionth focaccia of the evening as Marcus rushes by holding a tray of cannolis aloft, you try to tune out Sydney shouting instructions to the new servers, trying to drill something, anything, into their panicked, under-developed skulls. 

But none of this worries you. What worries you is the ominous, creeping silence from the station to your right, where you know Carmy is cooking up not only the best food you’ve ever tasted, but an internal storm that is going to be unleashed any, second, now-

“Chefs! Where the fuck is my garnish? Tina, are you dead? ‘Cos you need to wake the fuck back up.”

Tina is already by Carmy’s side with the garnish, but the damage is done. She doesn’t bristle at his words, but shoots you a worried look as she slides by, murmuring, “Sorry, Chefs. Behind.”

Since you started working at The Bear six months back, you’ve witnessed a rare few Carmy outbursts, and you know everyone feels the same way when they happen. It’s like the moment you miss a step on familiar stairs, stomach lurching and fear sweeping through your body. Carmy is this kitchen, and his boiling point is the moment things tend to spin out of control. 

And yet, Tina’s reaction is everyone’s; disappointment in herself, instant forgiveness because she knows Carmy is doing everything he can for this team. Last week, after you and Sydney spent the evening getting wasted on her couch, she’d confessed to you how hard Carmy took his notorious opening night failure, and how he’s been struggling to make up for it since then. And it’s been working; his kindness, patience, and passion for elevating those around him have always outshone the occasional harsh word during service.

But this service is just bad. It’s been bad since 5AM, when you got here to take in the delivery and found out that the grapes needed for the welcome broth had somehow been left off of the order. It’s been bad since Marcus ruined three batches of cannolis in a row, and when Sydney tried to touch his shoulder and ask him what was going on, he stormed out. Since Sydney snapped at Richie for singing Taylor Swift badly during family. The hundred little underlying frissons of tension that normally dissipate as soon as service rolls around have congealed today, like oil in balsamic vinegar, rubbing together but refusing to meld into the team you know everyone can be.

And you know Carmy can feel it. His anger is a physical thing beside you, like standing next to a hot pan with too much oil in it and just waiting for it to start spitting at you. Knowing you have to keep stirring it anyway.

“Four top, two steak, one bucatini, one fish,” Sydney rattles off, and everyone responds “Yes, Chef!” a little too loud.

“Can I get some hands for this focaccia,” you shout through the din, pushing the two boards forward, but nobody responds. “Hands, please, get these off my station before I eat ‘em!” you call, trying to bring some levity to the atmosphere before-

“Hands, fuckin’ hands, Chefs, FUCK!” Carmy explodes, appearing by your side so suddenly you almost jump. His hands hover over the foccacia boards like he wants to adjust something on them, fix something, but you know as well as he does that they’re perfect already.

And of course, this just makes things worse.

Carmy properly looks up for the first time, straightening out of the “chef about to have an aneurysm over plating this fish” posture and into his “everyone here is about to get fucked” pose. “These are good to go, why are we not? Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ. Go fuck yourselves-” one of the new waitresses approaches with trembling hands and Carmy pushes the boards at her, disgusted, almost taking them over the edge of the pass, “-all of you, what is the point of any of us being here if nothing is leaving the fucking kitchen!”

“Carm, it’s okay, they’re going out,” you can’t help cutting in, but you should know better than to try to soothe a wild animal. Carmy doesn’t say anything, turns back to plating up his fish, but his beautiful artist’s hands, which you often find yourself trying to draw in the margins of inventory checks, are shaking now. You’ve never seen him this bad. The whole kitchen waits on a knife edge. You glance up, watching the waitress leave with your focaccia, and have a brief but fervent desire to be her as the doors swing her out of this hellhole.

The fish is beautiful as Carmy puts the finishing touches to it. A server steps up to take it as other dishes for the same table coalesce at the front of stations, all elegant, all perfect, all more than worthy of the restaurant’s Michelin star.

Carmy is completely still. Staring. And you know it’s too late.

Plunging his fist down, he crushes the fish into sea-scented pulp. The shells of oysters, hand-selected, crack into broken-mirror shards; the sauce is peppered with shoddy scraps of lobster tail.

It’s still not enough for Carmy, as he picks up the plate and sends it spinning into the back wall, narrowly missing Sweeps’ head. “ Shit, ” Carmy mutters, turning back to his station and searching for more things to destroy. You watch him contemplate the knives, and you can’t stay out of it any longer.

“Carmy. Chef. Carmy,” you say as you reach out to grab his muscled arm, pulling him round to face you. You can feel the tension corded deep under his skin, see the sheen of sweat coating his tattoos. Normally, any skin contact with him sends your brain into overdrive, but you can’t afford to be anything but calm right now.

His eyes are wild, but you watch him steadily, and he watches you straight back. You’re not sure why, but the moment reminds you of how you felt on those rare occasions he invited you and Syd over to brainstorm new recipes in his cramped kitchen. Especially that time Sydney couldn’t make it, and you were midway through describing your idea for a yuzu-infused scallops course to him - “with maybe, like, a garnish of broccoli just absolutely smothered in hollandaise” - when he reached forward, tucked a scrap of hair behind your ear, and the very idea of food whisked straight out of your head - but you still felt hungry. And whilst he’d tried out your broccoli idea over and over again that night, you found yourself blushing every time he passed you a spoon to taste it. 

You never could get that dish right. Every time you thought about it, you couldn’t separate the flavours from the curious look in his eyes, the way he drank in your ideas, absorbed them before he responded, how his eyes tracked every thought that crossed your face.

Now here you are again, staring at that measured, thoughtful man turned savage, and you wonder if you have the guts to do what you’ve been thinking about doing for a while.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you murmur beneath the clatter of plates behind you, just for him. You don’t look away even when you hear something shatter. You move your hand from his arm, up over his shoulder, push your palm into the curve of his neck and hold it there. 

Then you wait, feel his shoulders jumping up and down with his rapid breathing. Wait until he leans into it a little, chasing your solidity, and it’s all the response you need.

“Come with me.” It’s not a question, but he nods anyway.

“Sydney, you got this?” You ask, never taking your eyes from Carmy’s face, worried that if you do, you’ll lose whatever grip you have on him right now.

“Yes, Chef,” she replies, and you feel her edge round the side of Carmy to put another fish on rapid fire. He catches her eye as she passes, and brings his hand up to his chest, rubbing it once in what has become the team’s official way to apologise during service. She responds in kind, and he lets you drag him off the station, past the others shooting him worried looks, straight into the walk-in.

You shut the door carefully, recalling the stories of Carmy’s previous imprisonment. It’s still securely closed, giving you both some calm and privacy to cool off.

Except cooling off is not really what you have in mind.

You turn to see Carmy slumped in the corner, curled in on himself and running his hands through his already-chaotic hair. He stands again suddenly, bracing his hands on the wall behind him as if to remind himself they exist.

“Carmy.”

“Yeah, shit. Sorry, I just need a second. It’s just, I didn’t sleep at all last night. I was thinking about doing something with ceviche, but I couldn’t figure out what fish would work best, and then that sorta spiralled into a panic attack which kept me up whisking eggs for something until three, and then-” You watch his eyes darting over the shelves around him as he talks, and you realise he’s taking stock of what’s there. Even during a full-blown meltdown, he cannot stop working, stop thinking. He starts pacing.

“Carmy,” you say again as you try to catch his eye. He’s staring at some spare T-bones like they’ll explain to him whatever dish he was whisking eggs for last night. Fuck it. You grab his chin, tilt it until he has to look at you.

“D’you know the best way to calm down?”

“Lock yourself in the walk-in for three hours?” He’s trying to relieve some tension, but you have other ideas on how to handle that.

“Sex, Carmy.”

There. You’re terrified that you finally acknowledged it, finally confessed to what you’ve been thinking about for months, but thank God it’s out in the open. You’ve been blushing at his compliments on your food for far too long, ignoring how good he looks in a white tee for even longer. And today has been such a shitshow it can’t possibly get any worse by admitting to this too.

You wait for Carmy to shut it down, laugh it off, maybe even fire you, but he just looks shellshocked. Then again, that is his default look.

“I, um…” He rubs a hand over his forehead, glances up at you almost shyly. “I mean, um. What?”

“Listen, you’re fucking up service. You’re distracted, tired, stressed beyond belief. I want to help you, and I won’t pretend it’s just out of the goodness of my own heart. I’ve been interested in you for a while, Carmy. You can take that or leave it or kick me out of this walk-in if you want, but I’m here. I want to help you work through things, through all this anger. And…I want you to know you can take it out on me. And maybe even feel better at the same time.”

Carmy is flushed, and you’re all out of words. You kind of wish he was still looking at the T-bones.

“We, uh, we can’t.” Carmy leans back on a freezer for support, crossing his arms in a pose you normally associate with him working something out in his head, deciding what a dish is missing or what it needs to take it up a notch. “I mean, not now. Not here, at least. And I don’t know, we work together. I’m your boss. It’s not a good idea.” He reaches a hand round to his back, starts massaging the strain away there. It’s an especially effective position as he doesn’t have to look at you as he does it, as he says, “Sorry.”

You shrug a little, smile. Try to pretend it doesn’t hurt. Keep it professional, or as professional as you can get in a kitchen. “Hey, it was worth a shot. Get some sleep, Chef.”

You turn to go, hoping that stirring and slicing and plating up will shake off the embarrassment currently burning through to your bones.

But you don’t live to regret the offer as Carmy grabs your arm, spins you and shoves you hard enough into the walk-in door that it rattles on its hinges.

“Hey, everything okay in there Chefs?” you hear Marcus call, and it’s a reality check you absolutely don’t want right now. Carmy doesn’t even seem to have heard him, trailing kisses down your neck, collarbone, shoulder as your body arches into the feeling. You’ve had one too many fantasies about this walk-in since you started, but the actual feeling doesn’t begin to touch the dream.

“Yeah, all good Chef!” You manage to reply, but you barely get the ‘Chef’ out before Carmy’s lips slide over yours, pushing, demanding entry as his body keeps you pressed up against the door. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place, is all you have time to think between kisses.

There is no room or time for playing around. Carmy needs this, and you intend to provide, but you’re damn sure getting everything you can out of it just in case it never happens again. One of your hands curls deep into his hair, pulling his head back as your teeth click together in the ferocity of the kiss. You swear you can taste blood, but neither one of you pulls back, the saltiness only urging you on. Your other hand is busy loosening his belt, and you tug it hard to pull the silver prong free of the leather, hard enough that his hips jerk forward into yours and you moan, long and low.

Gravity suddenly spins on its axis as Carmy lifts you, turns and drops you down onto the freezer Fak installed last week. And for once in your life, thank you, Fak. The movement seems to shake Carmy out of it for a second, and he pulls back, hesitates. A hand curves around your cheek, and you can feel an apology coming, see the reticence forming in his eyes. And honestly, fuck that.

You hook fingers through his belt loops, dragging him closer and then using them to tug his trousers down. You’re not gentle as you reach into his underwear, wrap a hand around his cock, and you can tell that’s what he needs as he hisses, his head drifting back.

Removing his hand from your cheek, you guide it slowly down to your neck. His head snaps up, and there’s a darkness, a need, that wasn’t there before as you move your hand slowly, torturously, down his length.

“Hey,” you whisper, reluctant to interrupt the low grunts spilling from him with each of your movements. “I’m not going to break.”

You squeeze his fingers around your throat a little tighter, and it’s this that has him surging forward, messy mouths pressing together again and everything condensing into a rippling, burning, rightness as the fingers of his other hand shove themselves between your legs.

He lingers there for a moment, breaths short and sharp in your ear as he breaks free from your kiss and whispers, “If we had more time, I would clean up the mess you’re making all over my freezer, Chef.”

“My apologies, Chef,” you pant, the sweetness of the apology marred slightly by your fingers tugging hard through his curls. Then you’re pushing up his white shirt at the back, reveling in the heat of him, the muscles straining under your touch. “What’s my punishment?”

Carmy hesitates, then withdraws his fingers from you slowly, and it feels like the calm before the storm. One hand is still pressed loosely around your neck as he brings the other up to your face, runs the edge of his still-wet fingers over your lips. Asking or demanding, you don’t know, but you’re happy to comply. His pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the blue behind them, and when you slide your mouth over his fingers, taste yourself on him, he closes them in momentary bliss. And it’s so beautiful to see that you can’t resist pulling him in to share.

A Michelin-star chef with one of the most sophisticated palates on the planet. A renowned food critic once wrote of him, “In my next life, I’d like to be just one of the taste buds in Carmen Berzatto’s mouth.” And here he is, savouring you, tongue searching out every corner of your mouth as if he wants to figure out each and every component of your taste. Add the recipe of you to his menu, and make it every night.

You’re both done waiting, and the clock is ticking. You can faintly hear Sydney calling orders through the wall, although she sounds steadier now. You don’t know whether anyone out there knows what you’re doing, but a rampaging elephant couldn’t stop Sydney when she’s on a roll.

Carmy pulls you closer to the freezer’s edge, jeans and underwear falling to his ankles and suddenly he is right there, and-

“Oh, fuck,” is all you can say as he pushes forward in one swift, animal movement. And oh, pain flickers down your spine as he slides almost free of you and thrusts back, relentless, and this is exactly what you signed up for.

“ Fuck ,” he echoes, hand sliding down your neck to settle over your racing heart. “Fuck, you…I don’t know how you do this to me,” he pants, and you try to keep your moaning down so you can hear as words spill from him, “When you come in with your hair down before a shift, when you - ah - when you borrow my knife and I see you using it all service, when you let me light your fuckin’ cigarette for you. Shit. You drive me crazy on purpose, and you wanna know what the worst part is?”

You can’t breathe, let alone answer him.

“The worst part is I eat that shit up every time, ” he snarls, punctuating every word with a short, sharp thrust.

This is the animal you saw tonight, spitting curses, destroying his own food, all sharp edges and uncompromising will. Grunting as he bottoms out inside you, fingers clenched around your upper thigh hard enough to bruise, littering bites over your neck as if your colleagues aren’t an unlocked door away.

But the animal isn’t the end of Carmen Berzatto. There is more to him than the bear, and you intend to remind him of that before you’re through.

“Look around you,” you pant as he thrusts again, harder, sweeter, and you have to get this out before you tip over the edge. So you risk bringing the hand you were using to support yourself forward to turn his chin towards the walk-in’s walls, to beyond them, to the restaurant hard at work and the satisfied diners metres away who have no idea what’s going on in here, and fuck if that doesn’t make it all the more delicious. “Look what you made. Look who you are.” You watch his flushed face, hope he understands the praise, but you can’t hold on anymore to see your words land.

“You’re fuckin’ unbelievable, Carmy,” is all you manage to choke out as every muscle in your body lights up, tenses and releases in a flood so strong you wonder if you’ll ever surface, and if you even want to.

Carmy fucks forward into you twice more, and his head drops onto your shoulder as he groans, shudders, relaxes fully for what may be the first time in his life.

You stroke a hand over his head, pull him closer. You’re not quite sure when this stopped being a no-holds-barred quickie and became a quiet, intense embrace, but it feels right. All the desperation, the keyed-up energy, is gone from him. And if he never wants anything more than that, even though the idea is more than a little disappointing, you can take consolation from the fact that you at least managed to stop a raging Carmy in his tracks.

Although it is a little quiet.

“Carmy?” You ask, hesitant to break the silence. Thankfully, it still sounds like it’s all bustle outside. You wonder how long you’ve been in here, and try not to think about how you’re going to emerge with any shred of dignity intact.

Carmy pulls back, and you can’t define the look on his face, but it worries you. His eyes shine slightly, and his gaze skips across your face, down your body, not holding your stare.

“Are you okay?” You ask, praying this isn’t about to get really awkward really quick. The man’s still inside you, for Christ’s sake.

“Yeah. I, um, I should be asking you that.” Carmy’s hands skim down your sides, fingers pressing in randomly as if to check for bruises. He tilts his head to look under your chin, as if to check he hasn’t caused any permanent damage to your neck. “Jesus. Are you alright? I’m sorry, that was rough.”

“I’m totally fine.” You don’t know what to do to reassure him, so opt for two big thumbs up. “See? Voice working and everything.”

Carmy chuckles unevenly, takes a careful step back, and you try not to consider how empty you feel and how cold and slippery the freezer now is underneath you. You hop off, catching yourself on the side when you realise just how shaky your legs are. When you glance up at Carmy, he’s just staring at you, which is, frankly, unnerving.

“Do I look that bad?” you ask, pulling your hair out of what’s left of a ponytail to start again.

“No. No, I’m just…I’m just taking you in.” The raw honesty in his eyes pins you in place for a moment. But of course, Richie shouts “ Cousin!” before you can read into it too much.

There is a moment of panicked dressing and clean-up, a nod to each other to confirm you both look relatively sane and not totally fucked (even though you doubt it), and then a collective deep breath as you push open the door of the walk-in.

You don’t catch anyone’s eye for a second as you head to your station, Carmy’s presence like an open flame behind you.

“Corner. Corner. Behind, sorry Chefs,” you call as you slide back into place. Two quick glances calm you; one at the clock - seventeen minutes - and one at Sydney, who doesn’t look like she’s about to throw up and only has three tickets in front of her. You spare a final one for Fak in his position by the door, who you are positive would be grinning gleefully if he, or anyone else in the kitchen, knew what just went down in the walk-in.

“What do you need, Syd?” you ask, picking up the familiar back-and-forth of the kitchen again with some relief.

Carmy is quiet, focused, for the last half hour of service, but you can’t keep your mind clear. As soon as last orders are sent out, you slink to the back for a cigarette, hoping the smoke will at least wipe out your brain fog. It does the exact opposite. When you let me light your fuckin’ cigarette for you. You exhale, waving the smoke away as the words churn through your brain. I eat that shit up every time.

“Hey,” you hear, and you’re almost thankful to speak to the real him just to distract yourself from thinking about earlier.

“Hey.” You offer him a smoke, and he takes it, sinking onto the step next to you. The brush of his leg against yours is a lot more comforting than you expect it to be, relaxing a secretly worried part of you.

He takes a long drag, the kind of drag you only take when it’s been a shitshow of a day. “I just want to say I’m-”

“Sorry? It’s okay. It doesn’t have to happen again,” you finish for him. It hurts less that way.

“What? No.” He looks at you until you reluctantly meet his gaze. “Not for that. I’m not sorry about that.” He lets that hang there for a second, holds your eye. “But I’m sorry for losing my shit earlier. Nobody deserves to be around that, and…I want you to know I’m working on it. I wanna be…I wanna be good at this.” It’s a stilted apology as he thinks through every line, and it feels all the more sincere for it.

“That’s okay. I know. We all know.” You reach a hand out to touch his arm, and after a second, he lowers his head to rest on his knee, although his face is still turned towards you. You see his eyes flicker from your hand on his arm to your face.

“Although that wasn’t exactly how I expected that to go by the way,” he says after a moment.

You don’t try to pretend you don’t know what he’s referring to. “What, in the walk-in?”

“Oh, no, I’ve thought about it in the walk-in.” You ignore a pulse of feeling at his casual confession, at the idea that he’s thought about you. “I just didn’t imagine it so…heated, I guess.” Carmy raises his head again, traces a finger along your hand where it rests on his arm until you shiver. “Not that I didn’t enjoy it.”

You hesitate for a second before replying. Before extending the branch. “Well, I’m sure there’ll be other times, Chef.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, and it’s your turn to watch his thoughts flickering there, watch as the fog clears, the idea forms, and he says, “Yeah. Next time.”

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wow guys thank you for reading i pray through the act of writing this that my jeremy allen white obsession will calm the fuck down, but i fear i've made it worse

if you'd like to keep up with me on ao3, you can find me here and please do send me any comments or feedback or prompt ideas, i would love to hear them <33 thank you!!

[wingsofbadass]

Tell me more about Naziha al-Dulaimi

Ooohhh yes!!

Naziha al-Dulaimi, Blorbo from my feminist icons!

Okay so, she was born in 1923 in Baghdad, where she also studied medicine, one of the few female students, and specialized in gynecology. She was politically active even at uni and was notorious for giving out food and medical care free of charge.

She became a member of the Iraqi Communist Party in 1948 and so her feminism was heavily influenced by those views as well. She was particularly outspoken about the treatment of women in the "peasant class" who she said "were treated as means of production by their fathers and later their husbands." She was highly critical of polygamy and the ease with which men were able to divorce their wives (thus leaving them with nothing.) She published a book called "al-Mar’a al-Iraqiyya" ("The Iraqi Woman") in 1952, which was also the year she was involved in founding the Iraqi Women's League, which had close ties with the Communist Party. They operated underground until being legitimized after the revolution.

Which revolution, you ask? The military coup with which the Communist Party overthrew the monarchy that was just the Brits in a Trench coat in 1957! Naziha was appointed Minister of Muncipalities, making her the first woman on a government cabinet in the Arab world! And she was one of the specialists, justist and 'ulama' (Muslim scholars) who penned the controversial Personal Status Law Nr. 188 under the communist government. You might have heard of this one last year when religious nuts tried to amend the law in a way that would've allowed, among other terrible things, child marriage.

The law, which was instituted in 1959, was very progressive for the time and region, because it a) applied to all Muslim citizens regardless of sect (shi'a, sunna, etc.) and made issues pertaining to marriage, inheritance, divorce, child custody a matter of state instead of up to the interpretation of random Muslim scholars and b) introduced things like a woman actually having to consent to a marriage, the right to her mahr (similar to a dowry), the minimum age for marriage being 18 for girls and boys, etc.

(The law has not been overturned, luckily, but they did manage to introduce a different law "allowing" Shia citizens to choose between the secular law and the Muslim sharia. Which is a huge loss for women's and children's rights.)

After the rise to power by the nationalist Ba'ath Party in 1963, she was inched out of politics, but could continue her work for the Women's League for a while. She eventually had to leave Iraq and live in exile in the 70s, eventually settling in Potsdam in Germany. She wrote about and worked for women's rights in Iraq from there until she passed away in 2007 from complications following a stroke.

I can only dream of being this fucking cool!!

[c-e-d-dreamer]

The Rest Is History

A/N: Listen, was I supposed to be working on IPB AU? Yes. Did I write this fun drabble instead? Also, yes. I'm surrounded by enablers.... but the fact remains that Cassian is absolutely thinking abou the Roman Empire daily. And he would make a hot history nerd, so here we are. Dedicated to the GC ❤️

“Listen. I get it. It looks cool and all that, but you seriously expect me to believe any general in their right mind is going to use catapults and ballistae in a forest? A forest? Just imagine the poor guys trying to maneuver those into place between the trees. It would take forever and only leaves you exposed and puts you at more of a disadvantage.”

Nesta has to bite her lip around a smile as she listens to Cassian rant in the other room. Even through the closed door, his voice carries down the hall to her.

She had known Cassian was a history buff from their very first date. They’d gone to a bar in the historical part of town, down by the harbor, and as if he simply couldn’t stop himself, Cassian had leaned over after they’d ordered their drinks and explained how the location was notorious for shang-haiing back in the day. How one of the most notorious culprits was actually a woman who would flirt and trick sailors into having drink after drink with her until they passed out and woke up dazed and confused on a ship the next morning while she walked away with her pocket full of coin.

He had apologized almost as soon as he’d finished speaking, clearly embarrassed by the outburst. But Nesta had been so entranced by the way his hazel eyes had lit up when he spoke, the golds and greens of them practically sparking even in the low light of the bar. Entranced by the way his lips had tugged up into an easy, excited smile around the words he spoke. Entranced by his passion and his love even if it was for a topic she didn’t necessarily share in.

It had been enough to want a second date with him.

It had been enough to want a lot of dates with him.

And now, here Nesta is, curled up in the room they converted to her own personal library and office, listening to Cassian rant away to his followers on TikTok. It still leaves her with that same feeling as their first date, that same soft warmth blooming between her ribs. Still has her shaking her head fondly, as she burrows deeper beneath her pile of blankets and returns to the final chapter of her book.

By the time she is finishing the last page and finally closing the book, Nesta is less than impressed. She digs her phone out from where it’s buried between blankets and opens her Notes app, adding to her running list of points to make in her review. The ending? Terrible. Nothing worse than an author who clearly got offered a new book deal so they suddenly decide to add unnecessary plot to the final ten pages to set up another book. She’ll definitely be warning her TikTok followers about that.

To take her mind off the ending, she decides to open up the app in question, to check on what her followers are saying about her last book review, liking and replying to a good chunk of them. With a soft sigh, she sinks deeper against the pillows at her back, navigating to her FYP. Almost all of the videos are a trend sweeping across BookTok, of different creators trying to teach their boyfriends and husbands how to be a good book boyfriend. It has an idea sparking in Nesta’s mind, her eyes dancing toward the closed door to the library.

With a decided nod, she clambers up to her feet, padding out of the room and down the hall. She pauses in the doorway to Cassian’s office, leaning casually against the door jamb and watching him work. He has his ring light set up on the desk, phone poised and recording in the center. His hair is scraped back into a bun, and he’s wearing a loose tee that teases just enough of the dark swirls of ink that splash across his collarbones, that twist down his arms. But it’s his hands that really have Nesta’s attention, the way he waves them about as he passionately speaks to the camera.

“And don’t even get me started on the depiction of Marcus Aurelius. Did they even have a historian in that writer’s room?”

As Cassian continues to rant about the Roman emperor and his character in the movie, it’s clear that he can feel Nesta’s eyes on him. It’s the smile that gives him away first, the slow tug of his lips until the soft, dopey look he fondly calls his ‘Nesta smile’ takes over his face. And then his eyes start glancing toward her, and even with the distance, Nesta can see the way his gaze softens around the edges.

Even still, Cassian continues talking, continues recording as if nothing’s amiss. Nesta rolls her eyes fondly, but that merely has his smile growing. She always teases him when he does this, for the way he won’t re-record any of the videos and posts them regardless. When Nesta had taken a peek at his account and his videos, she’d seen plenty of comments asking what or, more particularly, who he was looking at.

When Cassian finishes, he reaches forward to stop his recording, turning to give Nesta his full attention. “Hey, Nes. Finally finish your book?”

“Yes. The ending was terrible.”

Cassian chuckles, the sound deep and warm. “I’m sure your followers will appreciate your honesty on that.”

Nesta shrugs noncommittally, but she knows he’s right. It’s how she built her following in the first place: completely honest and transparent book reviews. “Speaking of followers. I do need your help with a video, a BookTok trend. We can call it even from when you made me chase after you for that August video.”

“Hey, that Pheidippides joke was hilarious,” Cassian defends, standing up from his chair even as he shakes his head as though fondly remembering the video. “The Persians slipped away like a bottle of wine…”

Nesta snorts at the reminder of the caption he used, turning on her heel and leading the way back to her library. She grabs her phone from where she left it, taking the time to set it up so it has the perfect framing of the door. Once she’s happy with it, she presses record, curling her hand around Cassian’s wrist and tugging him into the shot.

“So the trend is to lean against the door frame like the men in books do.”

“Lean against the door frame?” Cassian asks, shifting until his shoulder presses against the door jamb.

“No, the top frame,” Nesta corrects, grabbing his wrist again and tugging his arm up to demonstrate.

Cassian readjusts his stance, settling his weight forward as he leans against his raised hand, and offers her a winning smile. “Like this, sweetheart?”

“Yes, but you’re not supposed to smile. It’s meant to be sultry,” Nesta explains, frowning at Cassian’s expression. “What is that face?”

“Blue steel.”

“That’s it. You fail,” Nesta laughs softly, turning to walk back toward her phone and stop the recording.

An arm snakes around Nesta’s waist, fingers curling and spinning her back around. She barely comes face to face with Cassian before he’s backing her up against the door jamb, caging her in with his large body. Her breath hitches in her chest at the way his hazel eyes have darkened, and she can’t look away, even when his arm tightens around her waist, arching her back and pulling her flush against him. His hand slides along her jaw, thumb skating across her bottom lip before he leans down and kisses her, Nesta sighing into his mouth.

“How’s that compare to the men in your books?” Cassian whispers when he pulls back.

Nesta is sure that she must be blushing, but she clears her throat and extricates herself from Cassian’s hold. She can practically feel Cassian’s smirk on her back as she walks back over to her phone and stops the recording, but she refuses to give him the satisfaction. Especially when she watches back the way she became flustered and then melted into him in 4k.

“Well, I can’t post this.”

“You should definitely post it,” Cassian murmurs, his voice closer than she expects, but then his arms are curling around her waist as he plasters himself to her back.

And maybe it’s the warmth of Cassian wrapped around her. Maybe it’s the peace and security she’s found in his arms. Maybe it’s the way this history nerd has made her feel happier and more loved than she ever thought possible. Maybe it’s the way his lips pressing a line along her neck is very distracting.

Whatever it is, Nesta finds herself trimming the video to remove the parts at the beginning and end where she started and stopped the recording. Finds herself quickly adding subtitles and typing out an easy caption of, ‘I guess he passes after all… #BookTokChallenge #BookBoyfriend.’ After all, she can always delete the video later if she really wants to.

She presses post and tosses her phone aside, turning around in Cassian’s arms and kissing him properly, more than happy to go stumbling down the hall to their bedroom in a tangle of limbs. And later, while Cassian makes them dinner, Nesta sits atop their kitchen island and decides to open TikTok again, unable to hold in a surprised laugh as she reads the top, most liked comment on her most recent video.

Is that the fucking HistoryTok dude????

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck

[mariyekos]

For those of you (like me!) who missed it, there was a Behind the Scenes video released for the first Devil May Cry Netflix Anime back in November 2023, which includes a few scenes that aren't in either the old or new trailer!

This is where we got the shots of the female character who might(?) be Lady but didn't appear in the trailers. It's also where we got shots of a fight that doesn't appear in the latest trailer...unless it's an old version that's since been changed. Putting some screenshots and thoughts below the cut!

"Lady", or the Woman in the Behind the Scenes Video

Above: 1) Dante and the woman running on a rooftop, 2) The woman falls off rooftop, Dante sprints to the ground past her, 3) The woman continues falling and Dante gets prepped to catch her (note: there's something on the right that at first I thought might be Kalina-Ann, but on re-watches looks like a broken pipe).

My thought is that this could be Lady because it mirrors their encounters in DMC3 to an extent. The first shot makes me think of running through the library during her fight. The second and third shot of her falling and Dante catching her is reminiscent of when she fell off the Temen-ni-gru and Dante caught her (by the leg).

However...I hope it's not Lady, because other than the hairstyle, she doesn't look like Lady to me. This DMC is clearly going for a more modern aesthetic than DMC3 (and most of the DMCs, with 5 having the most "modern" look in terms of the city), but this woman's outfit reads very techo-futuristic to me and I would rather not have Lady dress like that. It just doesn't feel very Lady-like to me, y'know? That and I just think it was cool when Lady decided to shoot Dante and save herself when falling in DMC3. Please don't damsel in distress her like this :(

(Related: While I know the real reason Lady dresses like she does is that it's cute/hot, I like to HC that she typically doesn't wear armor because she needs to be able to move, and she figures any demon who'll be able to hurt her will be strong enough to make it through armor anyway so she might as well something mobile and comfortable.)

Now I will say, this woman doesn’t have the Kalina-Ann on her, just two pistols(?), so one possible story-line I’m thinking of is that this is Lady, but in a point early in the story where she’s working for some mercenaries or some sort of group to establish herself while she’s hunting Arkham. Then, later on she might split from them and don something more akin to her usual outfits while she runs around with the Kalina-Ann we all know and love. Another option is that this plain isn’t Lady. That’s my ideal.

Another reason why I’d like if this isn’t Lady is that I really do enjoy the young/schoolgirl aesthetic Lady has going in the original DMC3 and DMC3 Manga, because it sells just how messed up Arkham and his actions are. The scene of a teenager being the one to end her father's life and crying over him feels so much more chilling than it would if she was, say, 25. Lady’s a teenager who’s had her mother and her life stolen from her, and that’s tragic. This woman doesn’t read like a teen to me. And while Dante also reads as a little older and anime is notorious for making 17 year olds look 30 and 30 year olds look 17, that doesn’t eliminate the fact that I think an older looking Lady would lower the impact of certain scenes, even if the show says she’s 16. I like when Lady is younger than Dante, because Dante’s this teenager who’s so irresponsible, but then in comes Lady who’s even younger but seems to have it together…until eventualy you come face to face with the idea that oh, oh boy, this is all terrible and no one should be having to deal with this, Arkham what have you done (both with essentially orphaning Lady and partnering with the teenage Vergil (and screwing over the teenage Dante) as part of his evil plan. Which Vergil agrees to and helps with, so he's far from innocent, but still).

Comparison between Behind the Scenes and the New Trailer

It's also possible that the show might've changed aesthetics a bit between the previous trailer and this one.

See these shots from the new trailer (which I will refer to as NT)? I wonder if they're updated variants of this scene from the Behind the Scenes (BtS) video below.

Now I'll admit this is kind of a stretch. Buuuuut I'm going to stretch to make it anyway. In both scenes, Dante is being attacked by a group of humans. Yes, he fights humans across different media, but if the DMC anime is mostly Dante vs a bunch of humans with human weapons, I'm going to be very bored, so that's why I'm hoping this is just storyboard vs Final version of a scene. And yes, I know that's a lot of work to redo...but maybe reception was bad and they pivoted, and that's part of why we went a year without any news.

Other big things: the arcade cabinets.

I'm pretty sure this is supposed to be Dante's shop in both shots, and again, if Dante gets jumped by a bunch of humans in his shop multiple times, I'm going to be upset/bored because really? That's such a basic thing to reuse. Please don't do that. Thus I'm banking on the BtS version being the original idea, with the NT version being what the animators/director pivoted to.

And the thing I caught onto before I noticed the arcade cabinets: the guy(s) on the floor.

Again, it's entirely possible these are different scenes. A guy getting knocked out is one of the most basic things in any show that includes any kind of fighting. But...if they were redoing a scene, why not keep a few of the elements like the guy(s) Dante has knocked out? Are we going to have multiple scenes of people jumping Dante in his shop, Dante knocking them out, and the shop being partially destroyed? Seems excessive.

Lastly, these two shots:

Now the Rebellion thing is deeeeefinitely a stretch. The other stuff I mentioned in regards to this two scenes is stuff I'm pretty sure of Rebellion nah, especially since it doesn't come right after the other scenes in the BtS video (which are all together), whereas all the shots I included of the NT are in sequence. But the reason I included it is because it feels like a very good establishing shot of Dante, where they might have initially wanted to have him fight some people and pull up Rebellion on its own, but later changed their mind to having the zoom happen mid-fight. The way the walls are messed up in the BtS video makes me think that shot's in Dante's shop, and as I've said a million times before, I think it would be boring/lazy to repeat the same events in the same place.

Closing Thoughts

If the fight scenes above ARE the older and newer versions of the same scene, this does give me some hopes that if the woman in the top shots is meant to be Lady, they might've gone back and fixed up her design to make her more Lady-like. I don't want techno-futuristic outfits. I want someone who's in more traditional combat gear or otherwise at least in more cloth. The thing I love about Lady is how she looks like a teenager whose life veered off the road into the realm of demon hunting, and I think the whole "high school uniform paired with guns and belts and so on" does a great job of visually expressing that.

I will say that the military does seem to get involved at some point due to some shots of a gatling gun, armored truck, and missile, and the guys in the BtS video look more military than the mercenary types of the NT, so they still could be two different fights... but I hope not. The modern tech stuff doesn't feel very DMC to me. I want to keep the spirit of the games, even if we go for new things. (And yes, I know the military shows up in DMC5, but they're there for all of two minutes so if they do show up in the Netflix DMC, I hope they're only there for a short while.)

If you've made it to the end, thank you for reading! If you want to see me break down the new trailer, I made a post about it here.

[thewoollyviking]

For fun, I was thinking of what some of my fav characters would look as D&D characters!

If you have any feedback or wanna add to this feel free to mention it when you reblog. I’m also pretty much going almost entirely for flavor, I’m really not trying to Meta-game here lol.

Rose Quartz;

-Race: Tiefling (tail removed, horns filed down and hidden under her hair. If you ask her she’ll just nervously laugh and claim she’s some type of Elf)

-Class: Circle of Stars Druid/ Oath of Ancients Paladin

I feel like the go-to most people would have would be some type of Aasimar, but I prefer the idea of choosing a race that plays into how the show very much hinted at Rose being an Off-Color/Defective Diamond. So going with something like a Tiefling who are known to have a somewhat negative stigma seems to fit. It gives her a secret she’d wanna hide from others.

Her class choice was comparatively much more straightforward. Her powers over plant life and love for Earth certainly made Druid an easy choice. Stars Druid especially as it keeps the star motif and you could have her gemstone be her spellcasting focus! Ancients Paladin leans more into her role as a rebel fighting against Homeworld, plus this type of Paladin can be very Nature/Fey adjacent with heavy emphasis on protecting yourself and those around you. Very fitting for someone whose most famous weapon is a shield.

Also like, my friend @palezma would agree… Intelligence is her dump stat. Girl’s got Wisdom and Charisma for days but there’s not a single thought in that head of hers XD

The most fitting background I could find for her was Noble, and beyond the obvious, it was due to this being one of the possible flaws to pick from this background…

“I hide a truly scandalous secret that could ruin my family forever.”

Goddamn if that don’t fit Rose like a glove…

Kratos;

-Race: Fallen Aasimar (Greece)/ Protector Aasimar (Norse)

-Class: Zealot Barbarian/ Oath of Vengeance Paladin (Greece)/Oath of Redemption (Norse)

Thought it would be cool to split Kratos into two separate builds. One reflecting the younger, angrier, more vengeful version of him from the original Greek Era and the older, wiser, more somber god he grows into being when moving to Midgard. And whether it be for his own divine glory or against selfish and destructive gods, Zealot Barbarian seemed fitting.

And while I don’t often imagine Kratos being especially charismatic, I’d have to assume he’d learn a thing or two from his days as a Spartan General.

The initial background i had in mind for him is obviously soldier to further tie into his military history, but Haunted One seemed more thematically fitting.

Hellboy;

-Race: Tiefling (duh)

-Class: Champion Fighter/Monster Slayer Ranger

You could honestly get away with going the pure Ranger route for this guy, but dipping your toes at least a little bit into a fighter subclass that increases crit chances feels right when your right hand is literally made of Stone. If you hit someone with that, it absolutely should hurt. And while some might be surprised that I didn’t suggest sharpshooter, keep in mind that Hellboy’s gun is so big and destructive mainly because he’s a notoriously terrible shot. He’s much more comfortable with a sword than any gun.

Also like, his Dexterity has to be pretty bad due to his big stone hand, right?

Best background for him would either have to be Folk Hero or Haunted One depending on how grim you’d want him to be.

And that’s pretty much my top three favs down! Lemme know what you think and feel free to try this with your fav comfort characters!

[floatingcatacombs]

Teekyuu and Hubris

12 Days of Aniblogging 2024, Day 7

Chronic illness begets a certain amount of magical thinking. Having to deal with your own body attacking itself at random intervals leads many down the path of desperation and conspiracy. That’s is why it’s important to instead channel that energy into little rituals that don’t provide any physical aid but do help establish a sense of control. In my own struggles with sickness, I’ve gained exactly one such ritual related to anime. For whatever reason, my consolation prize for particularly bad health days is shotgunning an entire season of Teekyuu.

This may sound like a huge endeavor, but these are two-minute episodes we’re dealing with, and that's counting the opening. Teekyuu is a moe gag anime about girls in a tennis club who only rarely actually play tennis. Everything plays out at a staggeringly fast speed, like it’s cramming four minutes of jokes into half that time. This works heavily in its favor! Even if only half of the jokes ever hit at best, the whole thing plays out so fast that the failures don’t really stick around in your psyche, but the hits can really add up. Fuck it, I’ll just post an episode, it'll fit within Tumblr's file size limit.

So, what did you think? Actually, don't answer that, just imagine twelve of those back-to-back. That’s the kind of shit that I’m on during the days where my gut has decided in advance to kill me. It is absolutely the kind of show that boils your brain, but sometimes you need your mind simmered for sanity’s sake. And for that, it is my ideal show. If watching Lucky Star is like basking in CGDCT moe, then Teekyuu is like getting slapped with it, repeatedly.

I could honestly end the writeup here, but Teekyuu actually has a surprisingly serious production history surrounding it, which I would be remiss to leave out. Also, I really like the idea of making you spend so much time with this essay learning arcane industry drama that you could have just watched a good chunk of a Teekyuu season. Now then....

MAPPA is a big studio! They took on adapting Chainsaw Man and Jujutsu Kaisen and the later parts of Attack on Titan and a million other high-profile anime, and are renowned for their fights and animation quality. Of course, they’re also notorious for paying terribly, taking on way too many projects, and absolutely grinding their workers into dust. They’re a company of extremes, but in a way that makes them extremely emblematic of where the anime industry is at right now.

It wasn’t always this way, though. MAPPA started out in the early 2010s with some lower-profile but mostly well-received projects, such as Kids on the Slope, Ushio & Tora, and an original titled Punch Line which one of my friends from high school insists is peak. And during this early period, they were also churning out season after season of Teekyuu. Shin Itagaki is something of a D-tier auteur when it comes to Teekyuu, acting as the director, character designer, key animator, in-betweener, and sound director for almost every episode. Itagaki’s actually got a pretty cool resume – he helped out on Princess Mononoke’s animation, contributed to a few Gainax shows, and wore quite a lot of hats on the underrated stupid comedy brawling anime Ben-To. But Teekyuu is his real brainchild, and it seems to have garnered enough of a following to justify continued releases (of course, the production costs must have also been pretty low).

Anyways, in 2015 Itagaki quits MAPPA and founds his own studio called Millepensee, with him as chief director and his wife handling the business operations.  With this newfound and total creative control, he goes on to make…four more seasons of Teekyuu, as well as two spinoffs. The dude knows what he wants. But that’s his pet project. His wife has greater ambitions, and is steadily growing the studio in order to try and take on a larger project. They manage to get Berserk.

It still baffles me that someone looked at Itagaki’s resume and saw his seven nearly-consecutive seasons of high school girls getting up to rapid-fire antics and decided that he was the one for this job. I guess he had enough cred from his past projects like Hajime no Ippo and Ghibli contracting that they decided he could take a turn at adapting probably the greatest fantasy manga of all time.

It wasn't just going to be his studio, thankfully. This was organized to be a co-production with the 3DCG studio GEMBA, who up until then had only contributed background VFX to various shows, and had never handled an adaptation on their own. So Itagaki's job as director and key animator in pre-production was to handle storyboards and guide the artstyle of the adaptation, making sure it mapped well to the 3D models and animation techniques the studio was using.

When Berserk 2016 was announced, a lot of people were worried that Itagaki’s recent near-exclusive work on moe anime would pose a problem with the Berserk artstyle, but it turned out to be the other way around. He wanted to stay extremely faithful to the original artwork with techniques that the 3D software of the era simply couldn't render in real time, such as cross-hatching that Berserk is known for. Instead Millepensee had to add 2D textures and effects over the completed renders, taking on the laborious and messy task of fixing it in post. That’s why the texturing looks so janky and inconsistently applied in the final project, a lot of it had to be done by hand against a strict deadline!

The information in this section is mostly taken from a very good ANN writeup.

In between seasons of this Berserk adaptation, and right afterwards, Itagaki released Teekyuu 8 and 9. I guess this was his way of letting off steam.  

You’d think that this experience would deter them from CG productions, but in 2020 Millepensee purchased a 3D animation studio, and most of their productions are now in a hybrid 2D+3D animation style with Itagaki directing. Granted, they're all low-rent isekai adaptations, but at least they're still getting work after Berserk.

The saddest part about this failed Berserk adaptation is that it could have gone way better had they just tried a few years later! Hybrid 2D + 3D pipelines started getting really good in the late 2010s, with Studio Orange and his old bosses at MAPPA both mastering the craft on shows like Dorohedoro and Land of the Lustrous. Nowadays it’s absolutely everywhere, and you hardly see anyone complaining, especially when it’s used for a striking artstyle or to adapt something that would be near-impossible to do right with traditional animation. It's probably the only way you could animate the later parts of Berserk sanely, but nobody wants to try again after the 2016 attempt went so poorly (and also Miura's fucking dead). Also sad is how MAPPA really came into prominence just as Itagaki was leaving, with hits like Yuri on Ice and Kakegurui and Zombieland Saga coming out year after year. Though I don’t know if he would have been assigned to any of those had he stayed, and he probably gets a much bigger paycheck now even though he's working on stuff ten percent as popular.

We have drifted far, far, away from Teekyuu, so I’ll just loop back by saying that Teekyuu changes a person. It is kind of evil on some fundamental level. And yet, it is occasionally load-bearing on my psyche, like pushing a reset button somewhere in my synapses. I’ve still got a few late seasons stashed away for when I need them. With the last one coming out in 2017, I think it’s safe to say that there’s no more Teekyuu on the horizon, but what we’ve got is plenty. Its total runtime is almost as long as a standard 12-episode season, even! Someone should just bite the bullet and make a hell-on-earth video upload or torrent that stitches them all together. It might have to be me.

[steddie-my-love]

Tangled Up

Dads!Gentlebeard x Daughter!Reader

When you’re just about done with your tangled hair, ed comes in with a solution to stop you from doing something drastic.

A/N: I wrote this based on my experience as an individual with 3a texture hair growing up- i apologize for any inaccuracies as pertaining to other people’s experience with hair

—-

If there was one thing you didn’t account for when becoming a pirate, it was how to take care of your hair. Sure, a day at the beach wouldn’t do anything too terrible but after months your head was in rough shape.

it started as a few tangles at the base of your head, but quickly grew tighter and thicker until it was impossible to fix. Eventually the skin below grew tender and you couldn’t stand to even lay on your back, feeling the tension.

So, as Stede and Ed stood out on the deck planning their next move you slipped into the captain’s quarters. Digging through Stede’s things you found mountains of trinkets until you found what you were looking for; a pair of fine, shaft scissors perfect for cutting hair.

Steadying yourself, you pressed the cool metal to the back of your head. Your hand began to close in until-

“What on earth are you doing?” Stede’s voice rang out, eyes wide as he took in the scene “you know you could have hurt yourself with those!”

you dropped the scissors to the ground, stomach dipping as you were caught. embarrassment burned in your eyes as the two captains stared you down.

“here mate,” Ed murmured to the blonde “i’ll get this sorted, just bring me a coconut yeah?”

Without a word stede flounced to the kitchen, leaving you and the dread captain alone in their quarters. ed cleared his throat “how bad is it?”

You looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“i promise it’s nothing to be embarrassed about-” ed continued “you don’t have hair as long as mine without some nasty knots popping up here and there”

Ed moved over to the couch, picking a few choice pillows before throwing them on the ground, creating a seat. “take a seat please doll, i promise it’ll feel better without it tugging on your neck like it is”

Timidly, you walked forward, eyes downwards as you sat before the notorious pirate captain. Despite his callused fingers, ed’s touch was gentle, parting the uneffected hair out of the way.

“i’ve got the coconut for you darling” stede called, the top of the fruit already chopped off.

“what are you going to do with a coconut?” you timidly asked. A furrow in your brow that seemed to mirror stede a little too much making ed laugh.

“It’s not for drinking” ed chuckled, before taking some of the water into his hand and scrunching it into your hair “coconut water helps strengthen and detangle hair. i’ll just let it absorb and then try to lightly comb out the rest.”

Once the coconut was drained, Ed took a fine comb from stede’s personal collection and had begun detangling the mess of hair, starting from the bottom and working his way up.

“How did you learn to do this ed?” you asked as the conversation lulled, gentle fingers carding through your hair.

“i suppose it’s a skill my mother taught me.” ed said absently “she always said that it was important to look your best i guess.”

After a while, ed had finished. your hair was now back to its normal, untangled and glinting under the lantern light.

“how about i braid that up for you?” stede interjected, hands twitching in his lap as he waited to be helpful. “if you keep it braided it’ll protect against getting knotted up again.”

Ed gave a nod “that does help, though it’s your choice kid”

With your nod, stede took ed’s place on the couch. gently taking your hair he wove it together, occasionally stopping to ask if something was hurting which it never was.

At the end, your hair was left in a simple, yet elegant braid, two whispy pieces left to frame your face. “stede this is gorgeous, where did you learn this?” you asked, mouth agape as the gnarled hair was now smoothly tucked into itself.

“wow! ed- stede- thank you, i don’t know what to say!” you exclaimed, wrapping the two men into a hug.

“of course kid” Ed said, pulling you tighter. “We’ll always be here to help.” said the other. And so that braid stayed in until there was another, and another, and eventually your hair braiding became the preferred nighttime ritual of the dread blackbeard and the notorious gentleman pirate.

[viltrumite]

"You don't seem to understand. Earth isn't yours to conquer..."

Indie Nolan Grayson from Invincible Amazon series (moderate comic & HC influence) . Non-selective and open to AU, OC, and crossovers. Discord given to mutuals only. Personals do not interact.  Rules under readmore. ( Sideblog to @endsupes )

Rules and Notes

First of all, thank you for visiting this page.  Even if you only skim this, I’ll love you forever.  Most of these rules are pretty basic, common sense stuff, but I would really appreciate it if you read them.  I know it’s long, but I’m just trying to make sure no one is offended or uncomfortable.  I’ll try to make this as painless as possible.  Bear with me.  I’ll try to bold the basics.

            — the basics.

I have a few verses to choose from, and I’ll probably place you in the one that will most easily fit with your character’s canon unless otherwise specified.

Nolan isn’t always the most pleasant person. Please know that anything mean said is not a reflection of the mun’s feelings.  IC =/= OOC.

Don’t god-mod.

OC and Au friendly, but please have an about page so I can gauge whether our characters will be able to interact.

Memes and opens are free game – anyone can send one or respond to one.  However, I may not respond for some reason or another: it may be in violation of one of my other rules, or due to external factors.  If you’re worried that I missed something, feel free to come to me about it, but please don’t constantly badger me for replies.  It’s rude.

I reserve the right to refuse to roleplay, especially if I’m uncomfortable.

DO NOT under any circumstances try to bring me into out of character drama.  If you have a problem with me, contact me privately or just unfollow.  Vague blogging, callout posts and the like are annoying, and I ask that you would tag them.  This is something I will unfollow over if I so please.

            — on selectivity. 

I will be selective with my threads and who I interact with.  I would love to interact with everyone, but I’m very busy with school and other blogs, and I don’t want to overload myself.  If this bothers you, feel free to unfollow.  If you have any questions about whether I have time, feel free to jump into my ask.

Also, I am far more likely to RP with mutuals. That’s not to say I won’t RP with those I don’t follow or those who won’t follow me, there may be exceptions. But it is far more likely.  That being said: if I follow you, I want to write with you.  Probably a lot. I’m just too shy to say anything because I’m a weenie pissbaby.

Starter calls, unless otherwise specified, are for mutuals only.

            — on content.

I’m 20+, so mature content is cool with me.   NSFW and triggering content will be present on this blog, but it will also be tagged in the following manner: n.s.f.w., tw:

As for smut: first of all, I will not smut with anyone under the age of 18.  Don’t ask me to; the answer will be no.  And just in general, don’t come to me looking for smut.  I’m not terribly good at writing it, so it’s very unlikely that it will occur on this blog.  I need to be pretty comfortable with someone to smut with them.  If by some miracle a thread is looking like it’s going to get smutty, feel free to hop into my ask and talk to me about it.  We’ll figure something out.

In relation to that, please do not send me overtly sexual memes if we have not interacted.  Kissing memes are fine, but I tend to get uncomfortable with anything beyond that.  Please respect this.

            — on replies.

I’m an adaptive roleplayer, meaning I’ll likely respond in a manner similar to yours.  If you format, I’ll format.  If you don’t, I won’t.  That sort of thing.  I also try to match length with my replies, but some days I struggle.  If you’re ever unhappy with the quality or length of a reply, please let me know and I’ll do my best to fix it.

I don’t always get to things right away.  I’m notorious for avoiding drafts, and especially right now, I’m pretty busy with schoolwork.  However, sometimes I’ll reply at the speed of light.  It’s really varied, and I’m sorry about that.

Sometimes, I’ll drop things that’ve been in my drafts for too long, or things that I feel aren’t going anywhere.  If you think I’ve dropped/missed/lost something that you wish to continue, come to me politely and we can talk about it.

            — on shipping.

I’m admittedly kind of a ship-whore.  If there are sparks, I likely ship it.  I ship Nolan/Chemistry, but again, it’s rather unlikely that Nolan will engage in a sexual or even a romantic relationship.  Them’s the breaks.  BroTPs are great though.  Also, I’m only human: I sometimes play favorites with my ships.  Sorry.

Please please please DO NOT force a ship on me.  It makes me extremely uncomfortable, and I will not hesitate to unfollow or even block you.  I will try to politely let you know if I feel that our characters do/do not have chemistry.

            — on credit.

Most icons, art and edits are made by myself, and are usually tagged as #my art or #my edits. Otherwise, I do not own anything!

          — on the mun.

My name is Élise, I’m 20+, living in Midwest America, EST.  Feel free to contact me via ask at any time. I love talking to you guys!��Discord is available to mutuals upon request – again, I reserve the right to refuse to give these for whatever reason.  I have no triggers, so as long as you talk to me prior to introducing something triggering to a thread, I’ll be cool with it. Just talk to me about it beforehand and I should be fine, but if I’m not feeling it, please respect that.

That’s about it.  Thanks so much for reading these.  Smooches! <3

[hheartsdramas]

continuing on with tmopb eps 5/6/7:

i have revised my opinions, ji ling is no loss. idiot.

but maybe this means our lead gets to actually be the lead now?

why do non-villain people make world-destroying weapons in the first place? nuclear bombs, donghuang bells...maybe leave that reality-shattering shit alone

the lookalike ghost is back. he seems to both know and not know things about si yin. i know there are multiple lives in this drama, is he from one of those? i am confusion.

xuan mu is still going to be so awful and sweet disciple boy is still going to like her. poor thing

oh no ninth brother!

i'm sad that the goddess is probably about to die

i've heard this show was ridiculously expensive to make and i gotta be honest, i don't see a huge sfx advantage over, say, the untamed, which had a notoriously small budget. the swords wobble and the cgi sucks and the wire stunts are pretty silly tbh

"wait for me"? interesting last words

ohhhh ji ling we do NOT hit our partners even if they are terrible people

i think i would be more affected by mo yuan dying if he'd had more than 2 minutes of screen time. on to the next life, please!

i am so confused about this ghost guy!

oh god what's happening

she's feeding him her heart's blood?? he'd better reincarnate and be thankful, wow

bye ghost guy, hopefully see you soon

did heavenly princess just get immaculate conceptioned so ghost guy can be born?

"i just told you about this cool important mystical thing your enemy has that you'll really want, but definitely don't go stealing it. please."

viki subs continue to use masculine pronouns when referring to si yin in third person, which is honestly delightful to me when they're talking about ji ling having feelings for him

pacing continues to be a bit off and i can't say i truly care about any of the characters. but i'm going to soldier on because i want this feather in my cap.

[popart-vvv]

Michael Jackson Collage (+ My Picks)

I made a collage of a childhood favorite...

(a bit of censorship because I don't want to take my chances)

Anyway, this is my personal dedication to the King of Pop himself. His post-Motown eras, specifically, from Off the Wall to Invincible. Plus song lyric highlights from each respective album.

I can feel the impact this dude has had on the world of music; he's tried out pretty much every popular genre of his time--starting from disco, then dance-pop with a touch of rock, and then maturing throughout the years. Seriously, even when he started to fall off the radar, he still made some bangers! HIStory especially; I'd say it's his darkest album yet, musically and lyrically, and it's all the better for it.

Everyone knows Thriller...

And the moonwalk...

I'm gonna go and mention some other cool tracks from him casual music fans may not know about, though.

First off, Leave Me Alone.

Pretty much a warning of what was to come, this song is a response to all those terrible rumors about him. It became even more poignant a few years after release...

Black or White

Not only is the track a still-relevant cry for human equality, but there are quite a few badass lines too. "I ain't scared of no sheets!", anyone?

Scream (with Janet Jackson)

A team-up between MJ and his sister Janet? Yes please! Make this the opening track to the aforementioned HIStory? A hell of a first impression! (Plus, to deepen the impact, there's an f-bomb in there.)

They Don't Care About Us

The succeeding track on the album is VERY relevant today. Long story short, it's an anthem for pretty much everyone who has been the victim of social injustice.

Unbreakable (with Notorious BIG)

The opening track to MJ's overlooked final album, this jam has the King boast about how, despite all the crap he went through, he was still the King of Pop. Plus, he's aided by a posthumous verse from Biggie Smalls.

Well, that's my dedication to the King of Pop himself. Hope you like it! ;)

P.S. I even got the licensed dance game when it was in print!