#compass point studio

[gachael]

Chief Inspector (Nomad Soul Remix) / Wally Badarou

Inspector Nomad

[yourqueenb]

If we didn’t already have enough proof that Reagan is a callous ass, this man whips out a bottle of champagne so his new client can celebrate filing for divorce without even considering that… he might not actually feel positively about that 🙄

[addictedtorobertpalmer]

Moon Martin and Robert Palmer recording Palmer's cover of "Bad Case Of Loving You", 1979, Compass Point Studios, Nassau, Bahamas.

[starful-emporium]

that finale made me so emotional. i cried at all of their scenes in Ankarna's realm. anyway, here's some bad kids senior year head canons.

Kristen: Her wish for a sister is filled by Bucky, crying in her room late at night and praying together. After talking to Jawbone they learn that there are grounds to remove Bricker and Cork from their parents' home. Kristen is the only one given the option of emancipation--instead, she asks Jawbone to adopt her as well.

She falls back onto old patterns with Tracker. But they're a little older and wiser, so they see it happening and take a step back. Not a break up, but a readjustment. With her academics finally not reliant on deadlines, Kristen dedicates herself to her pantheon. They work with Lucy to bring Ruvina back to her sister, and Kristen finds herself in awe of the dedication she sees.

Fig: She puts all her time into the Bottomless Pit, something it desperately needs. Often she tells Sandra-Lynn she's sleeping at Gilear's, and vice versa, and stays with Ayda instead. On her 18th birthday her parents sit her down and explain that she can live with Ayda officially, if she wants to. Just as long as she remembers she'll always have a room with both of them.

She brings Sandra-Lynn on Complicated Women, first to interview, and then as a permanent guest host. They talk about womanhood as something living and changing and queer and complicated. It's her mom who encourages her when Lola Embers drops Ruben. They rally all the rock-hating souls and cordon off part of the recording studio. Fig never goes in there, but from what she's heard, his music has gotten better in the absence of Kipperlilly's judgement.

Fabian: Somehow, he ends up being the one to train the new dog. The Hangman is jealous to a ridiculous degree, so he spends a lot of time managing that. He starts looking into a sea-worthy vessel for after graduation, spends hours at the Compass Points Library learning how to navigate. Learning sea shanties is part of all that, of course, and has nothing to do with the way his baby sibling stares at him while he practices.

Mazey teaches dance to kids while he finishes school. She's so kind it almost hurts, and Fabian has no choice but to learn to accept love. He "lets" Gorgug skip Bloodrush under the condition of weekly movie nights, which only sometimes are expanded to the rest of the Bad Kids. The radio in his room crackle to life sometimes, with little messages from Bill when he's close enough to the material plane.

Riz: Appointed as vice president, he quits all but the AV club. He makes a bedtime pact with Sklonda, and for the first time in a very long time, they are both getting enough sleep. Someone mentions ace and aro identities to him, and he's awake enough for it click.

He finds a new scholarship for Aguefort students, and it looks scam-y so he does some investigating. It easily traces right back to Seacaster gold and Fabian. He's thankful for the cover and accepts the money with an understanding that they won't talk about it. He doesn't check, but the scholarship is offered every year after that.

Adaine: She spends the summer with Aelwyn tracking down their mom. She doesn't need revenge, but she needs to know her mom will never hurt anyone ever again. She feels Ankarna in the hot sun and wonders if that's the difference between revenge and justice. They take the long way back to Solace, the Hand-van paddling across the ocean.

When school starts, she works with Kristen to turn her inheritance into resources. Student who can pay for some of their components still do, but everyone gets what they need to learn. On the first day of class, she's asked about her summer prophecies, and tells off Tiberia for relying on her for lessons.

Gorgug: His senior year MCAT is signed on the first day by Lydia, who's teaching barbarian classes for the year. She gives him permission for independent study, and Henry gives him a shop key so he can do classwork whenever he wants. The rest of his time is spent perfecting Barbificer skills and creating a program to run at Aguefort the next year.

Mary Ann offers her quokky pet skills to help remodel his homonculous. The result is much cuter and more functional than before. She still names her highest level pet Cloaca in honor of the original, much to Gorgug's chagrin.

After graduation, the Bad Kids move in trios and pairs, and they always reconvene on the Summer Solstice, the anniversary of Ankarna's resurrection.

Kristen splits her time between Solace and Fallinel and Mountains of Chaos, the places where temples to her pantheon stand. Adaine and Riz rent an apartment in Bastion City, where they both continue school. Gorgug stays in Elmville, teaching at Aguefort and working on the side to start his own school. Fabian takes to the sea, bringing Fig and Ayda and Mazey with him.

They save the world again, a few times, but only when they want to.

[vulpinesaint]

all these messages like “what harm does hogwarts legacy actually cause 🙄” babe have you been like. gone??? for the last like three years since jk rowling (woman who profits off of the harry potter ip) started tweeting transphobic shit and working politically to hurt us? and for the last thirty years since she published her shitty book with shitty antisemitic and racial stereotypes?????? have you been off the internet for all the posts about the fact that the plot of the game literally hinges around blood libel? girl hogwarts legacy is causing harm in like seventeen easily identifiable ways and i have a hard time believing that you don’t actually know that. use some critical thinking and compassion and like. idk. consider the direct flow of money to support both a game studio producing antisemitic shit and a woman who wants trans people Gone and the attention to both that woman and the BLATANT ANTISEMITISM. + all the transphobes in my inbox are not making points cause i know y’all know about the antisemitism too and terf support for this game ALONGSIDE their fascist bullshit? girl you can’t be doing this right after the terf who quoted hitler at a rally. i didn’t think you’d want to show your whole ass over a video game but obviously being hateful toward marginalized people always comes first ✨

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Gay Cheerleaders AU

Y'all knew it was coming.

I'm thinking Lena would be the... third(?) year veteran, who is a legacy. Her mom Lillian was also a cheerleader, and then became the head honcho in charge of the cheerleading division. Lena grew up with the expectation of eventually joining the organization as a dancer, and naturally becomes a group leader (the youngest 1st group leader in the history of the organization?) through her sense of responsibility, magnetism, and compassion, even if she remains a little distant-- she doesn't share her whole self with the team, as she's constantly aware of needing to present the image of a perfect cheerleader, a perfect leader.

Kara would be the rookie, immediately awed by Lena's performance during tryouts. She's not in Lena's group, but her own group leader faces some... personality challenges, lets say, that have Kara taking on more of a responsibility than would normally be allocated to a first year dancer.

But when Kara and Lena end up bumping into each other in the studio for some solo practice, they agree to share the space and work together. Of course they end up bonding, and those practices lead to coffees, lunches, some movie nights.

They eventually become the darlings of the team, inseperably so. Young fans try to catch glimpses of them standing together on the sidelines, loving to see Kara acting herself (aka goofy) and seeing Lena laughing in response. Behind the scenes they become romantically and sexually involved, but they keep it hidden because while it's not explicitly forbidden, they do cheer for a very conservative state, and they know it would impact not only their squad but the team overall.

In their day jobs, Lena is a children's dance teacher-- she wants to do more, but Lillian wants it for the community-service image it presents. Kara would be a fitness trainer I think, something lucrative but flexible and reflective of her athletic and exuberant nature whereas Lena is a bit more reserved.

Kara and Lena span multiple seasons/classes, and in the off season Lena pops up on Kara's instagram a little bit here and there, which only fuels the quiet online rumors about them. Like, the people who clock them are also queer in a conservative region of the country, so it's not a mass pop-culture phenomenon-- yet.

That all changes when one night Lena is grabbed inappropriately by a cameraman or other stadium employee, and can't manage to extricate herself despite her obvious and vocal discomfort. Kara sees red. She slugs the man right across the jaw with a proper right hook. The cameras had only just started to pan over to Lena's commotion and catches the exact moment Kara lunges for him and spins Lena out of his reach.

Kara is the champion/brute of the moment, depending on who's talking. Some laud her for both her protectiveness of her teammate and her technique, while others condemn her for unladylike vigilantism. Why didn't she let the security team deal with it, she serves a role model for young girls what is she teaching them the thug life?

Most importantly-- and most dire, perhaps-- is that it clues Lillian into the deeper nature of their relationship. She corners Lena, and interrogates her as Lena tries and tries to deflect. Lillian all but tells her that she'll be watching Lena through a microscope, and terrifies Lena to the point she breaks up with Kara in an attempt to protect her tenure with the organization.

Kara doesn't really care about all that, but when Lena says it's what she wants, she respects that. Until the team goes to the superbowl, and in the height of emotions at the winning touchdown, Lena forgets herself and throws her arms around Kara's neck and kisses her.

She's stunned at herself, horrified even, but before she can even try to apologize Kara recovers and kisses her again, this time long and slow. The cameras not on the players or stadium stands are focused on them, and the next day and weeks they are the only ones anyone can talk about, for better or worse.

Lillian uses Lena's next year, her fifth and final, as leverage. Apologize publicly for her lapse in judgement, confirm it was only ever friendship, condemn Kara for assault-- or she's out.

Lena listens calmly, then smoothly rises.

"Then I'm out."

She walks out without a second glance.

[delirious-donna]

They Call Him The Reaper [Hanma Shuji]

an: after many discussions on discord with @unknownspecies over Shuji and especially soft Shuji in the past few days, this idea was born. A huge thanks to Zoya for helping a ton with the inspiration and characterisation.

pairing: Hanma Shuji x female reader

warnings: SFW, suggestive at best but only in one section, canon level violence mentioned, fluff, photographer timeline Shuji, soft Shuji, self-indulgence

Masterlist

They call him the Reaper.

A title bestowed upon him when he was only an adolescent. A delinquent with seemingly no moral compass, little compassion and a desire to watch the world burn, but only after being the one to strike the match. Nothing but a thug with no qualms about being used by others to enact their worst ideations.

Even now, in his mid-thirties, the namesake remains.

Sure, he isn’t the most upstanding citizen, but he is a far cry from those youthful years when he would pull the wings off insects just to watch them writhe. He found his passion, and it wasn’t taking orders without question. Perhaps those years helped him capture the world in a way that others couldn’t, a unique take on the subject of his photographs that no one but he could draw out because he didn’t see the world like anyone else. 

His studio was full of his favourite shots, landscapes blown up to cover large sections of the walls with small intimate photos scattered around in what seemed like a haphazard way when, in fact, there was a logic and pattern that only made sense to him. Photos taken with a polarizing filter caught your eye amongst the raw scenes on display. Natural sunsets stood out against a sea of cityscapes with twinkling lights, the pure magic of the sun outshining any number of neon lights that covered the glittering buildings.

It was safe to say that he had an eye for photography, and his fully booked calendar only highlighted that fact. However, he hadn’t entirely turned away from his criminal past. He would still lend out favours to those he called friends and they weren’t many. Those that did make the exclusive list were some of the most powerful men in the entire country and the majority of their wealth was stained in crimson, not that he cared.

An enforcer, a dangerous presence or sometimes the kindling to spark the flames of a dispute that had taken too long to reach this point. He played the role well, and it would be a lie to say he didn’t enjoy it when he was called upon. His fingers itched for a good fight often, and whilst he could now channel that energy in other, less violent ways, sometimes nothing could quell the bloodlust than a brawl where his knuckles split wide and smears of his opponent's blood covered his golden-hued skin.

Of course, he was still the Reaper. To be feared simply from how he smiled when he entered a room. It didn’t matter who occupied it or how high up the tree they might be, his smile was crazed, a warning and a threat rolled into one. The wolf called in when things were growing arms and legs, when attention was being drawn and a conclusion was needed sooner rather than later.

One flash of his perfectly white and deadly sharp teeth was enough to silence a room and he got off on that feeling. A glance at the stark black ink decorating the backs of his hands was more than ample to strike fear into the most hardened criminals. They all knew the atrocities those hands had committed, the blood that had long been washed away but still evident on the slender fingers by reputation alone.

An animal. A hired thug. A monster.

Except, he wasn’t those things, at least, not to you. He was gentle, a good listener and a whirlwind of his own making. Not always, and he had his moments when he was far from gentle, but you loved those times nearly as much as you coveted the soft times.

He liked the sound of rainstorms and would pull you to bed simply to lay in his arms and talk whilst the heavy thud of raindrops pelted against the roof and lashed the windows. He was a curious creature and often questioned you over things that seemed trivial but somehow were important to him. What had you eaten for lunch in middle school? What had you wanted to be when you were a kid? Which was your favourite ice cream flavour? 

You’d laugh and press your hand against his shoulder in a playful shove, he couldn’t seriously want to know those things but he truly did. His nose rubbed into your hair as warm laughter met your ear, the arm around your waist tightening until you yielded and gifted him the answers he sought. Did he remember them? You weren’t sure and you didn’t test him on it, it was enough that he had asked in the first place.

The man called the Reaper thought about you and not just when he needed something from you. It had taken some time to sink in but the evidence was plain to see as the little trinkets grew on your vanity. He had an uncanny ability to sense you weren’t in the best of moods, perhaps it was a hard week at work or your monthly cycle kicking your ass. It didn’t matter the reason, simply that in these instances he would appear on your doorstep with that wicked grin curving his lips and a small bag or box in hand. It was never a random item either, always something you had previously spoken about like the hobbies and interests he teased you over or an item you had lingered at whilst out together.

Someone considered a monster couldn’t be that sweet, but he was. Perfect he was not but soft, measured when it counted and open with his affection. He didn’t shy away from twining his fingers with yours, thumb stroking over your knuckles while you swung your joined hands happily. What a funny pair you made when out walking, but he didn’t mind one jot when you had a spring in your step or you pulled him to stop over something you had spied. Maybe you couldn’t see the secret smile that he wore only for you but the ghost of it caught your eye now and then.

For everything that made him hard, dominating and the master of his universe, there was a parallel to be drawn. All you had to do was look within the box tucked away beneath his bed to know that to you, he was no monster to be feared. Inside a frayed box that had been opened and closed so many times that the stiff cardboard was now peeling in places, scuffed and overused, was a thick stack of photos. Polaroids and glossy photos sat in a jumble and the subject of every single one… you.

Some only showed the curve of your shoulder as the morning sun streamed through a bedroom window to bounce off your skin and the rumpled white sheets. Others were candid shots that you remembered fondly. Being chased around your apartment whilst he snapped photos that you tried playfully to avoid. Bright smiles and splayed fingers across the lens blurred the surroundings but did nothing to dampen the happiness they exuded. You’d blush at the intimate ones carefully thumbed by long fingers. Hair spread out on pillows like a halo, features twisted in bliss and uncaring for the camera poised above you. 

Yes, there were lewd images of the two of your bodies joined and the decadent mess such a joining resulted in. Streaks of saliva on heated flesh, a pink tongue painted in creamy white, a hand painted with ‘punishment’ wrapped around an eager throat and other things that made you blush to even think of. 

He even kept the photos you had taken, the ones from a lazy Sunday morning when you had grabbed his camera and snapped away at his tousled hair and carefree expression. Capturing the curls of smoke that rose from one of his morning cigarettes and asking him to try and blow smoke rings just to amuse you. The ones where you kissed his cheek and peeked at the camera with a wink and others where you made stupid faces together until you couldn’t breathe from the laughter.

Despite it all, the violence he was capable of and the times he tested your patience and sanity to the very limit, he had stolen your attention but you had gifted him your love.

They called him the Reaper, but you called him Hanma Shuji.

[starberry-cupcake]

I could have just gone ahead and finished the book, but I adult life is interrupting so I stopped mid-fight and that's what you're getting, since I think it'll be a more sensible length this way.

previously, in gideon the ninth

this happened (also, this is the tag for all of the stuff)

currently, somewhere before ending the penultimate chapter, I think:

WELL, WELL, WELL

GUESS WHO WAS RIGHT ABOUT DULCINEA DEL TOBOSO SORAYA MONTENEGRO SEPTIMUS

I GOT YOU, BITCH

YOU DIDN'T GET PAST ME

ok, let's back it up a bit, but I needed to get that out of my chest for a sec

out of my guts, like the key she hid in the 5th necro bride's body

(too soon)

anyway, after yandere simulator w/inner chad left the room, gideon, harrowbean and my qp wife realized palmolive was gone

and everyone knows where he went because his dick has been a compass the whole time

or, like gideon puts it, he's been a weenie

camilla, the light in the dark, the sun to my moon, tells gideon and harrow that palmolive has been corresponding with dulcinea since he was like 8 and she was like 15 and he's been in love with her the whole time

and that he's made his lifelong purpose to save her life

there are many levels of Issues here

but at this point, we don't have time to unpack any suitcases

all this just proves to me that camilla has been carrying all the weight of the world on her shoulders even more, but anyway

they also feel confused as to why dulcinea has been ghosting palmolive massively since HE PROPOSED TO HER

palmolive, my man, my dude, just...what the fuck is your life

what are you doing, my guy

anyway, I immediately started thinking some soul possessing or some stuff like that could be going on, like she's not herself, but there's no time to theorize much

gideon feels terrible because she's been flirting with dulcinea in front of palmolive's salad all along and says something like "why do I have to be so attractive?" to which harrow answers something like "if you weren't, people would deck you after 5 minutes" which is a very good read

so gideon goes to find palmolive and he stops her with necro magic and enters dulcinea's room and outs her as the murderer

who is surprised??? not me, of course

so, basically, ducinea The Real One died at some point before arriving like protozoa, and this bitch here is a previous lyctor whose name I cannot remember so we will call her not!dulcinea

the real dulcinea was the other roasted body in the furnace

and protozoa was killed by her also which, again, the sword through the heart was a good indicator it wasn't an accident, but harrow was the only one who saw the body

non!dulcinea is a lyctor of the seventh that served the emperor and did the soul slurping thingy and already has her cav within her ("inside her" sounds...not great)

and she wanted to stir some shit up to get the man of the hour to show up and get revenge and whatnot

the emperor, coming back to canaan house from some holidays that took longer than he expected

it's not totally clear, because there's still a lot we don't know, but it sounds a bit like a toxic relationship with an authority figure

palmolive then proceeds to immolate himself like superman going super solar flare, but not being able to heal himself after, unlike superman

after that, all hell breaks loose

not!dulcinea tries to kill gideon

camilla tries to kill not!dulcinea

harrow also enters the fight and brings gideon's sword

like, the real one

you can hear the audience cheering when she catches her sword like it was filmed in front of a live studio audience

gideon and harrow team up against the mega massive monster junji ito concoction that killed isaac

they do the mind mesh thingy

harrow unlocks a new power

like in the sims

she also passes out for a bit

gideon gets her knee and shoulder fucked up

camilla is amazing and does amazing things

non!dulcinea seems to be too tough to win against

yandere simulator twin w/inner chad enters the chat

they fight like goku and vegeta for a while but non!dulcinea ends up using her like a battery

which is, to me, the revenge of duracell bunny nephew from beyond the veil or wherever he went

like, poetic cinema fate

I have no idea where regina george twin is at this point

last we saw of her, she was crying in a corner

which, mood tbh

so, where I left off for now, we've got three survivors accounted for: gideon, harrowbean and my qp wife, there's a lost twin somewhere in there and then there's yandere simulator twin being used as a charging pad by non!dulcinea

I want to take a moment to point out something, though

I want to briefly point out how MASSIVELY FUCKED UP EVERYONE WAS COMING INTO THIS

like, harrow was "oh no, we mustn't let people know you're not actually my cavalier and that I puppeteered my parents and that there's a frozen barbie in the ninth" and gideon was "oh no, I mustn't let people know I'm not a ninth cav and I don't use a rapier and I have a complicated relationship with my necro"

and everyone else LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE WAS BEYOND FUCKED UP

maybe the second weren't because they were ignorant asshats, but EVERYONE WAS MESSED UP

NOBODY HERE WAS FINE

you got the third, with a non necro princess and a feral real necro doing the work of both and chad as their support, look how that turned out so far

the fourth, who weren't tall enough to reach the top shelf and weren't even allowed their keys

the fifth who knew too much so they were goners after throwing a party

the sixth, with a guy who had the hots for a woman twice his age that he had a grey's anatomy fantasy to save that powered his entire reason to be there (and a cav who didn't use the right equipment but is great 10/10 no notes)

the seventh, who's THIS MESS

and the eight, who were doing the creepiest thing possible at all times and couldn't even do it properly

the only ones here who came in without dirty laundry were the second and that's why they were easy targets

everyone else was shady af

the best reality show you've ever watched

anyway, see you for the next one when we'll know who wins between one old lyctor and 3 bad bitches (or 4, if yandere twin is still alive, or 5 if regina george twin shows up again)

[maybe-itll-be-someday]

“You, with all your academic pursuits, you wouldn’t think less of me if I dropped out?”

She says it jokingly, a smirk on her face that doesn’t betray the insecurity that’s rolled around in her head for weeks. Ayda thrived on learning, thrived on the collection of books that lined the high shelves at Compass Points. Fig can remember the stolen moments amongst that cramped space in Leviathan, Ayda speaking with such a wonder about each book and the knowledge each contained. She didn’t want to be a disappointment, slotting back into her role of “doesn’t really fit anywhere” amongst Ayda’s academic pursuits.

But Ayda just looks at her, with that steely determination when she truly believed something. God, Fig loved that look on her.

“Learning no more belongs to academia than joy belongs to recreation facilities. They are dedicated to a thing that exists in all places, and with all people.”

Hell yeah are the only words she can say because she’s still trying to figure out how to say words out loud. Just like that, the aching feeling of not being enough, seeps out of her. How is it that Ayda always knew what to say, despite her constant fear that she would never say the right thing?

She thinks back to the words etched in the stars, smiling as she instructs Rip to get the fuck out of her studio because it was hot tub time.

We have been on our way to save us since the lights of our world were first lit.

Fig hopes Ayda takes her to those stars someday, and maybe, just maybe, she’ll rearrange a bunch of rocks to tell her just how much she’s been saved since the day they first met.

[wjbs-bonkle-au]

Turaga-staff ideas for each element that I might make at some point as custom Studio parts

Fire - flaming torch

Water - anchor

Earth - shovel

Air - propeller

Stone - crystal-holder

Ice - ice-drill

Light - lantern

Shadow - umbrella

Sonics - microphone

Gravity - flail

Plasma - blowtorch

Magnetism - compass

Plantlife - flowerpot

Lightning - lightning-rod

Iron - bardiche

Psionics - radar-dish

[saintbleeding]

You know what you have to do now. (write the jg au for it)

Gerry doesn’t really like nerds, as a rule.

Gerry also doesn’t really like rules.

So you see the problem.

Like, okay, obviously if the rules fall within “safe and sanitary tattooing practices” then they’re inviolable, but if the rules are the only things stopping him from admitting he’s crushing a little bit on the dweeby audio engineer who works next door, then they were made to be broken.

The guy’s got a nice voice, even if he does dress like a divorced geography teacher. Mind you, Gerry’s only heard his voice in two contexts: sometimes, snatches of it drifting sonorously through the wall—which doesn’t bode well for the supposed soundproofing—as he… records? Rehearses? Whatever it is an archival audio engineer does.

Oh, and other times, while the guy is smoking out the front on his break, he’ll be on the phone, either with this treacly, measured tone that drips customer service, or in a much more genuine and irritated one, seemingly complaining about whoever he’s got to use the fake voice on. The duality of nerd, Gerry sometimes thinks, and smiles to himself as he works. It’s like there’s a silent, unacknowledged solidarity between them—strangers, but near enough that they can share the thought that people are a right bunch of dickheads.

It’s comfy. Companionable.

Easier than the mess of trying to do anything mental like having a conversation. He might be a wanker. He might be a Tory. Not worth the risk.

Or, rather, not till Sasha comes in one day. Gerry knows her. She’s come in more often as a hand-holder for her mates who are getting their first tats, but he’s worked on her once or twice too. On this day—on her lunch break, she says, but tells Gerry not to rush, she doesn’t mind being late back—she’s come in for text on her inner forearm. I am here, it’s going to say, in all-caps, with an arrow pointing up the arm, towards her. Gerry asks, genuinely curious, what it means.

“Easy to get lost,” she says. “‘Specially in my job. So it’s kind of a compass.”

Cool.

Gerry thinks that’s cool.

So they get to work on it. It’s not exactly painstaking, but given she said so, he takes his time on it. Lot of straight lines.

“Do you talk to Jon much?” Sasha says out of the blue.

“Who’s Jon?” Gerry says, without looking up.

“Oh! Works in the studio, next door?”

Gerry smiles without meaning to. “Oh, Mr A-Levels-History? Nah, haven’t had a chance.”

Sasha turns her head, sniggering. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

They lapse back into silence for a bit.

“Friend of yours?” Gerry asks breezily after what he sincerely hopes isn’t an awkwardly timed pause.

“Mm. Sort of,” Sasha says, in the same tone someone might insist they’re sort of friends with a panther. “He does a lot of recording for my company, and I’m usually the one who brings him our documents. He’s nicer than he looks.”

Gerry’s smile grows. “Doesn’t seem all that chatty.”

Sasha grins back. “Get him complaining and you won’t be able to shut him up.”

Gerry nods thoughtfully, and then the conversation drifts away from the topic.

But that evening, as he’s about to go, the nerd—sorry, Jon, apparently—is standing out the front, smoking, but not on the phone.

Gerry locks the door, pockets his keys, and turns around to face him in a way he hopes doesn’t look too orchestrated.

“Oh,” he says, “Could I bum one?”

Jon looks up like he’s surprised to remember he’s still on the physical plane, then exhales.

“Um,” he says, “Uh. Yes.”

He fumbles in his coat for a second, then pulls out his carton, which he hands over, looking away with a frown. Gerry takes a cigarette and puts it between his lips. When Jon takes the carton back, Gerry mimes for a light, and unthinkingly, rather than handing it over, Jon produces a zippo from somewhere and ignites it, holding it to the tip of Gerry’s smoke.

Not that Gerry is complaining about this, obviously. It gives him ample excuse to really properly look at Jon’s face for the first time. Stubbly chin, lines beneath his eyes and in the corners of his mouth, glasses in need of a polish. Their eyes meet, and Jon smiles awkwardly.

It’s right about then that Gerry decides fuck the rules, he’s got a crush.

“Long day?” he asks as Jon turns away, taking a drag of his own smoke.

“They’re all long,” Jon says wearily, then clears his throat. “I—mm. Yeah. Yes, you could say that.”

“And here I thought archiving reports from weird faceless organisations would be a barrel of laughs.”

Jon gives him a weird, silent look.

Classic bloody Gerry.

“Oh,” he continues, glancing away. “Um, you know Sasha? She, uh, talks about work a lot.”

When he dares to glance back, Jon is nodding, and if he’s still perturbed, he’s going to efforts not to look it.

“Friend of yours?” Jon asks.

Gerry smiles. “Sort of, yeah.”

They smoke in silence for a minute.

“I’m Jon, by the way,” Jon says, and Gerry nearly says I know, until he remembers what a weird fucking response that would be.

“Gerard,” he says instead, then, after a second, “Um, Gerry. I’m Gerry.”

They don’t shake hands.

“Strange,” Jon says, “That you spend all day jabbing people with needles, and I’m still hard-pressed to convince myself that my work is less violent.”

Gerry laughs. “How violent can things get in a recording studio, exactly?”

Jon smirks ruefully. “You might be surprised.”

Oh, cool, so he’s a freak. That’s kind of a huge relief.

“Anyway,” Gerry says, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve only ever had, like, three people pass out, so I’m doing pretty well. I’m basically a pacifist of tattooing.”

“You deserve the Need-el Peace Prize,” Jon says, then immediately cringes. “Sorry. Sorry. Christ, I tried to do something with needle and Nobel. Jesus Christ.”

Gerry laughs anyway.

“Not my finest work,” Jon concludes, lifting his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Eh, it’s fine. You’ll just have to keep trying.”

Jon gives a bemused smile, bending to butt out his cigarette on the concrete.

“I suppose I will,” he says, and straightens his coat. “In the meantime, though, I’ve got some life choices to go home and question.”

They smile, and Gerry instantly prefers the kind of companionable solidarity the two of them share when they have actually had a conversation.

“Nice to meet you, Jon,” Gerry says.

“Likewise,” Jon replies, then he turns and goes.

Gerry watches him till he’s out of sight, and as he walks home alone that night, he nails down the preference list.

He likes nerds a lot more than he likes rules.

[gachael]

Pride / Robert Palmer (2012 Remaster Paper Sleeve)

You Are In My System

[horizon-verizon]

I'm still on my self-imposed Tumblr writing break but I had to share this comedy gold mine where Condal tells us all about "impostor syndrome" before I'm overtaken by the urge to write an essay on it instead. I have no time to cook. Fortunately, we've been served a meal on a silver platter.

https://bigthink.com/high-culture/house-of-the-dragon-ryan-condal/

House of the Dragon, which premiered in 2022, might have continued that [Game of Thrones] trend. Instead, the show proved a return to form, offering the same Shakespearean dialogue and political intrigue that made people fall in love with Martin’s fictional universe back in 2011. The second season is just as good, if not better.

I can see that this is going to be a very fair assessment of Condal and his work.

“Every day,” Condal confesses when asked if he suffers from imposter syndrome. “For me, though, it was less the scale and scope of House of the Dragon and more its visibility that intimidated me."

😭😭😭 It's okay! He wasn't worried about whether he'd do a good job! He was just worried about how visible his ingenious work would be.

Appointed for his encyclopedic knowledge of Martin’s oeuvre, Condal has — in his own words — “played with fire” without getting burned. In the following interview, he demonstrates his mastery of Westerosi lore and explains why all history – real or imagined – ultimately amounts to propaganda.

The business major is about to tell us about historiography. The question is, does he understand historiography? Or does he think he's inventing a new concept?

Condal is a relative newcomer to television. In his previous life, he graduated from Villanova University with an accounting degree and spent eight years working in pharmaceutical advertising — quite different from working as a Hollywood showrunner, but not entirely unrelated.

Yes, we know. It's actually very related. Especially the way Condal does it. I'll also point out here that his university was a private Catholic institution. I don't feel the need to connect those dots right now.

"I also learned to compromise, adapting your writing to clients who aren’t always going to love your brilliant, avant-garde choices. That’s the talent-studio relationship, right there."

I... this tells us two things about the writing process and attitude behind it. Two things we already knew. But... it's sure telling.

"I was able to navigate challenges that some of my colleagues with filmmaking and art history degrees maybe weren’t prepped for."

In theory, nothing wrong with this^ statement. But in context...

While some criticism is valuable, too much can lead to creative paralysis. “I tend more towards the negative than the positive, so I made a conscious decision to stay away from social media when I got this job,” Condal says. If anything, he believes the healthy distance he maintains between himself and his audience has improved the show: “Audiences think they know what they want, but sometimes, they have to be given what they need instead."

I repeat my prior sentiment.

Ultimately, Condal’s own passion for Martin’s writing outweighed any doubt he had about his own. “I’m trying to make the type of show I would enjoy as a fan, which I am. And while I realize my ideal fan show will be different from someone else’s, I still think that it’s a good true north heading on my compass. Actually, I think that’s why HBO hired me in the first place.”

Oh, we know.

“It was hugely intimidating, moving to a new country [the U.K.] and working with a new but also hugely talented crew that I had to — not tell them what to do, exactly, but lead them; collaborate with them. I definitely had to earn my place, but think that — because I came in with a clear vision of what I wanted for the show — those relationships were easy to establish.”

Make it stop.

The most important part of making a successful fantasy show isn’t the sets, costumes, or special effects, but lore. Fictional places like Westeros have their own unique cultures, customs, and social institutions, all of which help create the illusion that this fantasy world is as real and complex as our own. To transfer that illusion from page to screen, the writers must know Martin’s work as thoroughly as Martin himself. “It’s not just me,” Condal says. “We are all deeply entrenched fans of George. One of our writers has worked with him for many years. If I’m a graduate in Westeros studies, she’s an archmaester,” referring to the order of academics sworn to advise and educate Westeros’ nobility.

Well that explains why they're worse than Gyldayn.

Condal: “Textual references are best done in light touches to remind people that this is a fully realized society with hundreds of years of mapped-out history to it. And you don’t need an entire scene to do that. Instead of writing, you can communicate details environmentally through props like heraldry. For the fans, these little touches tell them they are in good hands. Better yet, they know the details are there just for them, the hardcore fans. For everyone else, the casual viewers, this stuff is flying by 100 miles an hour, and they probably won’t notice it. But it’s there.”

Again, there's nothing wrong with this^ in theory. In. Theory.

“I’m definitely an architect,” says Condal, “and I think I have to be as a screenwriter, because our life is so deadline-driven. The literal definition of a playwright, W-R-I-G-H-T, is ‘one who builds plays.’ A dramatic writer is almost by necessity a structuralist, and I very much fall into that camp.”

Now wait for it... wait for it... Keep in mind these are Brinkhof's (article author) words. But wait for it.

Martin, by contrast, identifies as a gardener. While this writing style — with its many unexpected twists, turns, and deaths — helps explain what made Game of Thrones so successful, it may also have been responsible for the show’s eventual downfall. Sticking to Martin’s analogy, “gardening stories” grow like trees, their narratives branching out in an exponential number of paths, making them difficult to finish. As of today, Martin has spent more than 14 years on the next installment in the Song of Ice and Fire series, his prolonged bout of writer’s block forcing Weiss and Benioff to come up with their own ending.

No words. Now back to Condal.

“The advantage we have over them is that we’re dealing with a finished text, where they were working with an unfinished, living work,” Condal says. “Where the Game of Thrones team had to trim down 5,000 pages into a few dozen scripts, we’re challenged in the opposite direction, turning around 100 pages into a multi-season arc of television, and that requires a lot of invention.”

Oh? So... you do know where it's going. Which means your "inventions" should... probably lead there?

Condal treats Fire & Blood like a real-world historian might treat a manuscript from the Middle Ages. “These three writers all had personal agendas which, to me, seem to reflect one of the main themes of our show: powerful women living in an unbreakable patriarchy. The writers, particularly the priest, appear to blame the war on the squabbling between Rhaenyra and Alicent.”

No comment for now. No... comment...

House of the Dragon pretends to show the real history that Fire & Blood recorded and distorted. Some events happen the way the one of the three authors describe it, while others contain elements of all three conflicting accounts. Others still indicate that none of them got it right. As a rule, every character in the show is far more complex than the jester, maester, and priest made them out to be.

I... I... I... I... I...

“Alicent can be the stereotypical evil stepmother at times,” says Condal, “just as King Viserys, played by Paddy Considine in season 1, can come across at weak. However, the thing that in-universe historians don’t get about Viserys is that he was carrying the burden of a prophecy passed down through generations and couldn’t tell anybody about it. A lot of his supposedly weak decision-making was actually in service of this secret prophecy. We were trying to show that there was more to him, that multiple things about him could be true at the same time.”

Must... Resist... Urge... To... Write... Essay...

“We have to arrive at the same endpoint as the book,” he reminds himself. “Whoever George said becomes king must become king at the end of the war. Hopefully, though, we have a bit of latitude leading up to that, to show how history has been interpreted differently at different times by different historians. I realize I’m playing with fire, but it does excite and fascinate me — to be able to comment on how history is made, not just this fictional history, but all history. It’s all propaganda to some degree.”

😭 The clownery.

Historiographers weep.

@rhaenin-time, you must be stopped. Ryan should be , too, but you have decided to bring me in close proximity to this nonsense. I am sitting here, eating chewy ChipsAhoy, and you came in here like a wrecking ball with this news....I hate you. [read, this is a joke]

I don't think I'll be able to address every thing I want to address in this. I want to be done with this show, I have been tired since the 6th epi of the last season.

Condal is a relative newcomer to television. In his previous life, he graduated from Villanova University with an accounting degree and spent eight years working in pharmaceutical advertising — quite different from working as a Hollywood showrunner, but not entirely unrelated. [...]

I also learned to compromise, adapting your writing to clients who aren’t always going to love your brilliant, avant-garde choices. That’s the talent-studio relationship, right there. [...] Audiences think they know what they want, but sometimes, they have to be given what they need instead."

Who tf does this man think he is?!!! Yes, I needed mother-son coochie eating. I needed to have a brown girl erased for a rapist to become a family man with a sick child. I needed Cole fucking Alicent at least 3 times instead of a brown haired Targ make instrumental alliances with more people to add to his stepfather's armies in the Riverlands. I needed to see nonexistent and sterile parallels. I needed to see a black woman be burned alive when she actually died at least surrounded by family, her ignored by her husband so his later marriage to a white girl be that much more special. I needed to see a disabled man jerk it over a queen's bare feet like she's in OnlyFans and doesn't know where her next meal is. I needed to see a pretten prince jerk it over a window and barely even tell what his brother was doing later with Vhagar instead of another preteen girl bond with the most powerful dragon of the then living ones. I needed to see a woman so much more hypocritical than her book counterpart be framed as one of the wisest women to exist while she praises Jaehaerys I of all people for having a peaceful reign as if his decision to have that council have no bearing on the burgeouning war coming up right now.

He can't even properly write character ACRTION as opposed to REACTION (Seth Abramson's article on substack):

Appointed for his encyclopedic knowledge of Martin’s oeuvre, Condal has — in his own words — “played with fire” without getting burned. In the following interview, he demonstrates his mastery of Westerosi lore and explains why all history – real or imagined – ultimately amounts to propaganda.

And yet Daemon dislikes his daughter or grow impatient with her bec she doesn't have a dragon....while he only claimed one at 16 or a bit younger with Caraxes AND Targs don't actually bond with dragons in the cradle that often, actually usually doing it in preteens to teens AND Aegon I definitely had to bond later in life as well. And said that Aegon I lived/was alive when Old Valyria still existed. Allowed Criston Cole to be called Dornish both by Alicent and the fans without giving us any explanation or exploration of that identity esp when canonically he came from the Stormlander part of the Dornish Marches. "Encyclopedic" my nonexistent ballsack! He has no authority to claim that F&B is so unreliable that he can't tell truth form agenda-motivated fiction and then claim himself intelligent or "brilliant" at the same time!

"avant-garde"...yes bc it's so revoluntionary and creative to have a man lick his former home from his own mother in a "vision". As if making a woman her son's character tool wasn't something HBO already did with its female characters and perform male gaze....okay...As if he's special and different from other male writers and it not just keeping with ASoIaF adaptation tradition. It added so much to the story other than the sick eroticism of something already cleared up last season.

I definitely had to earn my place, but think that — because I came in with a clear vision of what I wanted for the show

No you didn't. If you did, you wouldn't have had a such a problem with the pacing, the numerous inconsistencies, plotholes, the [if true] possible merge of Rhaena and Nettles and many episodes would't contradict each other as if one writer disagreed and vetoed another. And you'd see why/how show!Rhaena's purpose must be kept more or less the exact same as her in the bk for the post-Dance environment. We'd have Maelor. We'd have Daeron mentioned and described much earlier, not as some sort of random ass surprise that is bound to thrown so many locals off when he does appear.

If I’m a graduate in Westeros studies, she’s an archmaester,” referring to the order of academics sworn to advise and educate Westeros’ nobility.

....what the fuck does this even mean?! There are no fucking graduates of anything in Westeros and there are no archmaesters of real life bc the set ups in education of EU medieval history vs Westeros are so different it's not even funny. there are no universities for one to even imagine there are Westerosi "graduates", and there is no way you can tell if a graduate would be more or less educated than a grandmaester, bc we don't have rules of "graduation" or gradations of maestership. the modern school system can never be properly equalized in structure or depth or habits to Westerosi maestership, the instituton.

Therefore trying to create some sort of analogy as if grads exist in Westeros by immediately using "grandmaester" for another you're aligning yourself with is just so stupid. worst part is, I know exactly what he's trying to say, but his use of this device is so wrong, that I'm mad and ure people will just take this at face value instead of see how inept this man is with literature analysis and thus creative writing. Reminds me, ironically, of his saying he's inspired by PARADISE LOST in writing S2...if you don't sit yourself down to hell, sir!

Martin, by contrast, identifies as a gardener. While this writing style — with its many unexpected twists, turns, and deaths — helps explain what made Game of Thrones so successful, it may also have been responsible for the show’s eventual downfall.

And there it is, Ryan is prepping to use the ole fan excuse of "not much story left" excuse people had for D&D, and it makes sense how he would considering how F&B is considered to unreliable to adapt even the clearest events and characterizations as they are given....

[theficpusher]

Good boy by 28sunflowers | E | 2768 Harry is startled out of his thoughts by the needle going over one of his ribs. Thankfully, he catches himself and manages to stay still, but accidentally lets out a whimper at the unexpected stronger burn. He exhales slowly when Louis takes the gun off his skin, trying to remain calm. “Good boy,” Louis tells him automatically, giving him a pat to the hip.

Soft Wings by kingsofeverything | G | 4375 Harry is a Dolly Parton fan who wants to get a tattoo in tribute to her. Louis is the tattoo artist.

take your whole life then you put a line through it by sunflower_lwt | M | 5332 an AU with trans harry, an all-knowing cousin, and tattoo artist louis.

lemongrass and sleep by moonshinelouis | E | 5370 Louis is a tattoo artist and Harry wants a rose tattoo.

I See Your Colours and I'm Dying of Thirst by taking_sweet_time | nr | 6244 Harry asks Louis for a tattoo, but forgets to mention that he's got a little bit of a... problem when it comes getting inked. Shenanigans ensue. Or, a very dumb fic about Harry's fucking whale (maybe) tattoo.

Makes Me Feel Alive by hazzahtomlinson | E | 8372 Louis hated when people came in to get tattooed and couldn’t sit still— bunch of fucking squares is what they were. If only that had been the issue for his newest client.

A Simple Twisted Fate by Cyantific | E | 18125 Global rock star Harry Styles has some time to kill between tour dates and stumbles into a Doncaster tattoo shop with a desire for some new ink. He has a few other desires as well, but those he must keep to himself. Louis Tomlinson, owner of Twisted Fate Tattoos, has seen enough of the tabloids and thinks he knows everything there is to know about this world-famous rock star, and he’s not impressed. Harry may be one of the world's biggest stars known for a lavish lifestyle, crazy parties and entourages of women wherever he goes, but he’s more than just what his image and wild reputation suggests. Things take an interesting turn when Louis finds out he’s been helping satisfy Harry’s voracious pain kink. Bet he'd love to know that not only is Louis a gifted tattoo artist, but an experienced Dom as well. Perhaps they both have something to learn from each other, if only Louis would give Harry a chance. Maybe their paths crossing was more than just a twist of fate, but the universe’s plan all along.

Necessity is the mother of invention by words_of_my_own | E | 87502 Louis is the owner of a couple of tattoo studios that are not for tattooing purposes only. Harry works as a policeofficer and infiltrator, currently on a case that really only should be straight forward. What happens when things aren't what they seem, morals come into play, and when you fall in love with the one person you just shouldn't?

no hand on the reign by tempolarriefics | E | 137051 Then, he sees it. His eyes lock on the tattoo and he sucks in a sharp breath, unable to look away. His brain screeches to a halt, and not just because of the sight that is a half-naked Harry. There, on Harry’s outer arm, is an intricate tattoo of a large ship. A large ship which perfectly complements the compass tattoo hidden on Louis’ own forearm. “It’s that one.” Louis breathes, reaching out a shaky finger to point to the ship on Harry’s left outer arm. “You’re sure?” Harry asks. Louis nods. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life. He has found his soulmate. Or, a twist on a soulmate au where louis is a newly independent tattoo artist and harry just wants his soulmate tattoo removed. Of course, they're soulmates.

[kataraslove]

I just stumbled across your acc and I gotta say, I agree with alotta ur takes

Ur sooo well spoken and I really enjoy reading your thoughts and opinions

Katara is one of my favorite characters and it makes me really happy to see someone appreciate her and her writing

Ngl a lot of atla fans r lowkey braindead so ur acc is pretty refreshing

Thanks for posting!! 🩷

thank you! 🩷 your words are too kind. i appreciate it.

i did mention this before, but this blog stemmed kind of entirely out of spite. i was sick and tired of fandom on here telling me that there was only one way to interpret and enjoy my favourite character, dictating who i could or could not ship her with and how much of a stan that made me. it’s not an experience just unique to the atla fandom, of course. it’s becoming something more apparent nowadays especially, the ways in which multiple readings and interpretations of a character is heavily discouraged by fandom in favour of just one.

it’s baffling how, for so many years, there was a strict binaric interpretation of katara’s character, with 0 being non-canon and 1 being completely in favour of all things canon. either you had to vehemently agree with everything that bryke wrote for katara’s within atla and post-canon, to the point where i have seen people defend the lack of statues of her as “oh, she probably didn’t want one anyway,” (NO!!) or you had to have deep-rooted anger and rejection for all things that were done to her story, in the guise of katara deserving better.

katara does deserve better narratively, but NOT in the ways that the tumblr fandom thinks she should have. not in the ways that she should be ambassador to the fire nation, or become firelady (a racist depiction in fanon and nothing but a decorative title in canon) and live out the rest of her life by zuko’s side, serving and prioritizing zuko’s nation.

“but wouldn’t it be empowering if katara sat on the throne of her oppressors and got to dictate - “ no. it’s not. stop advocating for that type of ending for women from oppressed and marganized groups. stop acting like that is the ideal future that katara wanted this whole time, that ruling as part of a foreign monarchy that decimated your people and your culture is the ultimate threshold for liberation.

i’ve seen people who claim to take a doylist perspective for critique of atla (read: kataang)’s writing completely lose all comprehension when it comes to critically assessing post-canon zutara. by that i mean, if we continue with the writing direction that we saw for all of the female atla characters in the sequel series, a zutara endgame would position katara in a worse outcome than she got narratively. but you tell anyone that and it’s an instant “zuko would have given her 10 statues!!”

but most importantly, nothing has radicalized me more over this year than seeing the “katara deserves better (in the form of zuko)” crowd, the same crowd who is currently dreading any form of fixing or retcons from avatar studios in upcoming content, defend the hell out of natla katara’s writing. the very same people who were praising katara’s arc to the stars, stating that it was nearly complete until the two grown men decided to pair her up with aang and ruined all at the end.

well, what about the group of zutara shippers in the natla writer’s room who handed her everything in the narrative, who removed her flaws, her anger, her compassion, who stripped her down to everything except hope, all in the name so that she wouldn’t appear unlikable to audiences. i mean, that tremendously backfired for them, because now the young actress who plays katara is getting hate spewed at her for failing to portray katara interestingly, when the problem has always been the shit writing.

anyway, i appreciate this message! glad i could be of service and it’s nice that you’re a zuko fan who ships kataang! lots of people who love zuko do.

“a lot of atla fans are braindead” LMAO you can say that again!!!

[fluidstatick]

The game has only been out for a few days now, but I watched zmannzilla's longplay of INDIKA yesterday, and I'm rotating it furiously in my mind like it's a rubiks cube. The devs at Odd Meter Studios fled their country to make sure they could finish and release the project, and I'm so grateful they did. The world really needs a game this smart. It makes incredible stylistic choices with the titular character's perception of the world, examines prejudices against the disabled and incarcerated, points a dispassionate philosophical eye at religious corruption, and breaks wildly from expectations over and over again.

More, including some spoilers, under the cut.

The unfortunate anti-Roma and antisemitic moments in some of the background context irritated me. They employ the g slur to refer to a side character, and depict him stealing money. Later, it's said that two brothers who own small businesses across the road from one another are forever angry, because each brother thinks the other one is making more money. We eventually meet one of the brothers, who is unfortunately a blatant hook-nosed handwringing grifter stereotype.

This is a pair of nasty missteps at the back end of an otherwise truly gorgeous horror adventure game. As Indika carries a letter from her monastery to the diocese, she digests the plight of a wartorn community that doesn't trust her, her orthodox religious order, her innate compassion, or her practical knowledge.

While stumbling through the streets of a bleakly reimagined 19th century Russia, Indika gains a reluctant ally, and they grapple with their conflicting philosophies, until those conflicts become a matter of life or death. When is an attempt at salvation actually betrayal? Can the trust Indika has built with her comrade be salvaged? Should it be? What does doing the Right Thing look like in a nuanced, jaded, ambivalent world?

The ending made my breath stick in my throat. The leveling and points system is genius, in my opinion, though I notice many reviewers have already expressed displeasure in it. I think it's powerful and fascinating, if you look at it close enough; the leveling asks, do you want a little bit of a boost now, or accrue a greater store of points over time, later on? Note how each new level ability is labeled. Note what happens each time Indika adds something to her inventory. Light candles. Notice That One Candle that's not like the rest.

Indika finds her way through platform puzzles by navigating her own mind. Level geometry, scale and reason fluctuate wildly. First she's trying to follow orders, then she's trying to survive, then she's trying to make sense of the senseless.

I've seen a little art in the Indika tag so far, and it's mostly shipper stuff. I'm not judging people who bring shipping energy to this story, as there is textual romance here, but I think it's a cog in the story's mechanics, more than a setup for a happy ending. The relationship is tenuous at the best of times. there's honesty in it, but there's also a great deal of stubbornness, resentment, immaturity and selfishness. I don't think there's meant to be a textual happily ever after for either of them. Indika finds a sliver of inner peace behind the shattered remains of her assumptions, and the game ends on a comma, a question mark, a blank space where objectives and threats and grim certainties used to live.

Anyway. Go watch it. Buy and play it for yourself, if you can. Just like its heroine, it isn't perfect. Just like its narrator, it's only as terrifying as you want it to be. And, just like the political and spiritual systems it examines, the surreal meandering narrative has only as much power as you decide to give it.

9.5/10