THE WITCHER NETFLIX (2019– )

You know, it’s weird and interesting to see a fight between male and female characters where gender doesn’t play a roll in the staging. It might play a role in the story, I haven’t seen the show, but like…look at them. It’s not just that she’s not being sexualized, it’s that neither of them are holding back. While it’s true that her fighting style seems to relying more using speed and dexterity than his, it’s nowhere near the “Waif Fu” style we see with some female fighters like River Tam. I feel like you could sub in a smaller man to fight Henry Cavill and the staging would be exactly the same, and that’s pretty neat. From the point of view of the choreographer, it’s not about the fact that one of them’s a man and the other a woman, it’s about the fact that these are two characters doing their unholy best to murder and/or beat the hell out of each other. And that’s what fight scenes SHOULD be about, in my opinion. XD

start to melt in your clutch

Summary: All obsessions start innocently. Tiktok, however, is a goddamned rabbit hole, one Emma Swan has fallen into and doesn’t seem to be able to get out of. Enter Killian Jones, who suggests she get that song out of her system. And Emma Swan has never ever backed away from a challenge.

A/N: I can’t thank @csconcertseries​ enough! Literally, this event kind of saved me from singing Snow Miser’s song all. the. time. And there are a few other songs mentioned in the fic that I’ve been obsessed with, of course. I wrote this fic in just a few days and it was absolutely therapeuthical - it didn’t help me forget all about tiktok, however, but eh, can’t really have it all, can I?

Anyway, big thanks to @clockadile​ for creating this event, @carpedzem​ and @shardminds​ for being awesome supporters and to everyone I’ve sent tiktok videos to and who would probably just want to strangle me. Sorry?

Rated not-even-much-M for mentions of smut at the end. Mostly, this is just crack.

Enjoy!

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All obsessions start innocently.

That’s what Emma Swan always tells herself to defend her latest addiction: she didn’t obsess over colorful Converse on purpose; she buys all books in a series with the same cover style because that’s the sensible thing to do, no matter if the new edition is prettier; she does not get obsessed over tv shows or movies because they are mainstream, she watches them because that’s what Netflix offers and nothing else attracts her; she doesn’t get one song stuck in her head for days to end because that’s the song of the moment and everyone’s supposed to know it. And, most definitely, she is not obsessed with Killian Jones.

Liar, liar, slutty dress on fire!

She growls at the silky voice of Tom Ellis in her mind.

Well, maybe she is a bit obsessed by him, but it strictly on a professional level.

And Tom is about to open his mouth again.

Alright, not exactly totally professional level. But he doesn’t need to know that. He mustn’t.

Killian Jones is just… the most talented make-up artist she’s ever met. Those kids on YouTube can only dream to be like Killian, and even if some are his age, they still have a long way to go.

The stars call him all the time when he’s not on set. Hell, Vanessa Hudgens and Blake Lively have him on freaking speed dial. And god, he got to do Lady Gaga’s make up as well, once. Emma would sell her soul for such an opportunity.

Hers is not envy, though. No, Emma knows that’s not how it works in the industry: you either are talented or you are not. If you are not, you’re out.

Emma is good, very good, but compared to Killian, she’s just a kid coloring inside the lines to his Da Vinci: he’s the creative one, the one to always come up with new ideas for their stars’ make-up.

There’s some kind of rivalry between the two of them, but it’s mostly a game. In fact, this is probably the problem: there’s no serious competition going on, they both are good at what they do and spend so much time joking and entertaining make-up free conversations she would almost say they are friends.

The horror, Tom muses with what would be a sardonic smile.

Flustered, Emma clenches her teeth and rubs her brushes harder under the flowing water.

Alright, dude, she concedes, they are friends. Kind of. Friends from work. They don’t really spend time together after work, they don’t have the same group of friends even though they’ve had to move to Vancouver and both have apartments in Los Angeles they rent out and he’s been over at her house enough times for her cat to fall in love with him.

Friends. They are friends. Somehow. But platonic ones, they don’t do those things best friends do in books and movies and they are not pining one after the other. That’s… inconceivable.

Liar, lia-

Shut the fuck up, Tom!

She’s grateful she doesn’t snap the brush in her hand. That would mean admitting too many things and none of those would be on the same level of just having to buy a new brush. Adding that to the pile would probably make her cry, though.

Knuckles rasp against the trailer’s door, making her jump. Only one person knocks before entering anywhere, and said person is no one other than the one she can’t get out of her head. Tom Ellis is probably somewhere in her head smiling in delight.

«Come in!» she calls before Killian starts wondering why she’s not answering. Partially because of her nerves, Emma eases back into humming an old song she discovered only because of her newest obsession: TikTok.

No, scratch that, that’s not an obsession: that’s a goddamned rabbit hole.

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two doors down

“Really, Emma?” Walsh sneered when she confronted him. “You thought I was serious about you? I guess you really are a dumb blonde.”

In case anyone was wondering why Emma was crying, it was that. She shouldn’t be—it was dumb, he was dumb, not her—but that didn’t seem to matter, apparently. The asshole had somehow managed to find a crack in the walls around her beat-up, bargain store heart and, once inside, found an old bruise and punched it. Or something like that. She wasn’t great with words.

Or emotions, apparently, or men—though she was already aware of that one (thus: the walls). (Well, okay, and being abandoned by her parents and growing up in the shittier parts of the foster system. But that’s besides the point.) Anyways. She had thought that maybe, finally, she’d found one guy who wouldn’t hurt her—who was safe enough to consider giving her heart to. 

And then she’d caught him sleeping with a coworker. On a mattress in his furniture store. On their anniversary. 

And he apparently had the gall to call her dumb. What a dick.

After giving him the rightful slap he was due, she stormed out and ran home. Then she grabbed the wine she’d been saving for tonight, popped the cork, and drank right out of the bottle.

What a fucking loser.

(She wasn’t sure if that applied more to her, or to him.

Because, at the end of the night, she was the one drinking alone while he was probably still having too much fun on his own merchandise.) 

With about half the bottle gone, she finally hit the point where all her tears were gone and she was probably some level of dehydrated. Her apartment was eerily quiet without the sound of her sobs, it seemed, but she could hear loud music coming from down the hall. 

Oh yeah—Dave and Snow’s party.

They were her neighbors—well, they lived two doors down, but she definitely talked to them more than the grumpy dude who lived between them. They were easily the nicest, most outgoing people on the planet, and had been trying for as long as Emma had lived there to come over to one of their parties. 

Usually, Emma was able to use work as an excuse, or a date (like she was supposed to have had tonight), to explain why she couldn’t go. But it was really fear—fear of rejection, of not measuring up, of plain old awkwardness—that kept her away.

It always sounded like a good time, though, and she could hear the music pumping and people laughing whenever they hosted these get-togethers. Apparently, they were at the drunk-enough-to-sing-loudly part of the night, because she heard the lyrics perfectly as the crowd shouted them:

Just because I’m blonde, don’t think I’m dumb ‘Cause this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool

She laughed, albeit watery, at that, considering Dave was the blond of the two of them. But then she thought about it again, and what her ass of a now-ex had said: there was nothing dumb or foolish about Emma. Maybe she should have listened to that voice that had told her she was out of his league when he’d first asked her out, but right now, she just needed to tune out his grating words and focus on Dolly’s—about kicking trash to the curb and moving on.

And, you know what? She was gonna go to that party.

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The Martian is a literary masterpiece.

Yep

Welcome to the space age, ladies and gentlemen

This is really quite a big deal. A tremendous amount of modern research ends up being sold to journals which require unreasonable payments to access it and only pay the original authors a pittance. It’s nice to see an agency like NASA deliberately widebanding its findings.

Not sure if people fully realize just how big of a deal this is. THIS is how science is advanced. Not through biased corporate research, business secrets, marketing, paywalls and patent wars. But through open, uncensored and unrestricted public access to knowledge.

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/?term=%22nasa+funded%22[Filter]

^ There’s the direct link to all the studies.

NASA IS GOOD, NASA IS GREAT

@osunism

NASA is the hero we don’t deserve.

This deserves every reblog.

@geh-is-okeh

In the face of institutions being silenced, this is doubly huge.

I love seeing that, for once, there are more reblogs than likes

Keep passing on this info, guys. Good job

One of the new series of blind-packed Transformers Botbots is literally just named “Steve From Accounting” and he transforms into a stapler by covering his face with his hands and crumpling into a fetal position, and I have never identified more strongly with a Transformer 😅

OH MY GOD GUYS i CAN’T EVEN.  ALSO LOOK AT ALL THIS RIDICULOUSNESS.

I’ve never needed something more in my life.

So, I took my little puppies outside today for the first time and they’re so unbelievably brave while simultaneously being the biggest morons I’ve ever seen. I’ve decided to name every one of them Jaime Lannister.

Jaime Lannister #1 just ran head first into a tire, backed up, and did it again.

Jaime Lannister #4 just tried to fight my 90lb lab.

Jaime Lannister #2 been laid out in the driveway for a straight 15 minutes. Thought he might be dead. Nope. He’s alive and drunk on sunlight.

The puppy formally known as Jaime Lannister #5. She hasn’t done anything stupid so far. Just catching up on her beauty sleep.

Name changed to Brienne of Tarth.

Brienne of Tarth thinks the cat is her mother. I said “that not your moms, Bri. He’s a dude.” No reaction. Renamed Jaime Lannister #5

You are so right, friend. Brienne of Tarth reinstated.

How could I forget that doofus! So sorry #3! Jaime Lannister #3 ate a beetle after I yelled at him not to and then immediately proceeded to throw it back up. Beetle was still alive. JL #3 ate it again.

Behold, 4 dumbass Jaime Lannister’s and 1 Brienne of Tarth(middle puppy)

Update: Today, Brienne of Tarth got stuck in a hole and didn’t know how to climb her way out of it and Jaime Lannister #1, forever the knight in shining armor, jumped into the hole after her!! Now, they’re both stuck. But they’re together.

Update: They like to sleep in the ‘bear pit’ now

Update: Jaime Lannister #3 and Brienne like to sleep in the food bowl

The other Jaime Lannister’s prefer to nap on an old broom

This is the only Game of Thrones content I will allow on my blog.

RODRIGO NO

So I’m currently enslaved employed by a cable company, and I can offer a few pointers:

Reblog to save a life.

I’m so confused why he would think cookie dough would give him salmonella??? What parent told him this. There’s no chicken in there!

Two words: Raw eggs.

?? What kind of world do you live in where Raw eggs carry salmonella or are in anyway unsafe

Don’t ask me, ask them Americans. I’m an Asian just passing the word on

*deep breath* Though the risk is small, raw eggs can carry samonella.

MORE THREATENINGLY Raw wheat can carry E. Coli. However, if you don’t mind making your own cookie dough, you can easily make it safely.

Take your standard recipe. Omit the eggs. Eggs serve as a binding agent to hold the cookie together. Since we’re eating the dough raw, that’s not needed. Take the flour, put it in a pan and bake it at 350 for 7 minutes. Any E. Coli is now dead.

Just mix the rest of the ingredients together as the recipe is called for and BAM, perfectly safe edible cookie dough.

Thank u so fucking much for this wisdom

wait you’re telling my i can get E, Coli just FROM EATING FLOUR straight from the bag???

Why..why are you eating flour straight from the bag?

“Chess”: A KnightRook fanfiction.

Alice Jones sat on her front porch reading a letter. She had read it a few times already. She had already sent her response through Robin. Now she was reading it again. She missed the person it was from so much. She hadn’t seen him in years. She wanted to. But it was too risky. She couldn’t. He might, no he would get hurt and she couldn’t do that to him. Not after everything he had done for her.

She missed everything they used to do together. Pretending her toys were her crew on a pirate ship. Pretending the cleaning supplies wanted to stage a mutiny. Pretending that they were world travelers darting across realms even when they could only run a few feet before running out of space in their one roomed tower. Nearly everything was pretend. But the joy it had brought her as a child was nothing but real. And there had been some things that were real. Papa teaching her how to cook. Papa teaching her how to read and swordfight. Papa teaching her so many things. She missed their chess games the most. She was his little rook. He was her white knight. A savior in a situation that was never fair to begin with. And it had only gotten worse. He’d been poisoned and ripped away from her when she was quite young. She missed him. And she was looking for a cure but all of her leads had failed. And one had even hurt him. But she’d keep looking. She set up her chess set and played. She knew how to play by herself. She’d been alone for years and she could entertain herself but she missed having an opponent. It wasn’t near as much fun when you knew both sides’ plan. And this chess board was missing two vital pieces. Neither side had it’s full advantage. One was missing a rook and one was missing a knight. The playing field uneven. But she couldn’t lose. She would win either way. She played until one side won, not that it matter which side. Alice would win or Alice would win. She wanted to play this game with papa. But she couldn’t.

She went inside and went about her day. A week or so later she saw Robin approaching the cabin.

“Hi, Nobin!”

“Hey, tower girl, got a letter for you.”

Alice smiled as Robin handed her the letter.

“What have you been up to today?”

“I played some chess, I won. But I always win.” Alice’s voice carried a tone of sadness. She spent so much time alone.

Robin felt for Alice. This wasn’t her bragging about her skills at chess, although she was good at the game. It was her saying she missed having someone to play with.

“I don’t know how to play, but I’ll try. If you want?” Robin offered. Alice bounced a bit, excited. It’d be nice to play the game with someone else.

Alice set up the chess set and started explaing them game excitedly to her.

Robin tried to understand it but this game was not one you could get good at quickly. And Alice beat her in a mere few minutes every round they played. Some in even less time.

“I am not good at this,” Robin admitted after she had lost more rounds than she would ever admit.

“Not as much fun if I win that quickly,” Alice told her dejectedly. “I miss playing with papa.”

“I know, wait. Can’t you guys still play?” Robin asked.

Alice raised an eyebrow and waved the letter in her hand. “Robin, I can’t go near him. Remember? That’s why I don’t come visit you.”

“Yes, but Isn’t there some way you can both set up boards and I don’t know enough about chess. But you both play by yourself isn’t there a way to tell each other your moves?”

“Nobin! That’s bloody brilliant. When I was little papa taught me how to record the moves in chess. I don’t know why, we didn’t need to. But I learend it.”

“Do you remeber how to do it?”

“Aye.”

“Okay, then use it. Ask him whenever you write your letter,”

Alice nodded and opened the envelope to read his letter. She made sure to include Robin’s idea in the letter and sent it off with her.

And the next time Robin returned with a letter there was a board set up. The letter reminded her that his board was missing a piece and hers was missing one as well. It was intentional. So each of them only had one knight and one rook on opposit sides. The pieces would be together again one day.

It took them months to finish a game that would only take a few hours if they could be together but it gave them a sense of still playing together. Sometimes Alice would be off looking for a cure so they couldn’t play for weeks at a time. And sometimes Killian was bus helping with the rebellion but eventually they finished their very first game in years.

Alice had spent more time practicing than Kilian and she won the first match.

Great job, Starfish! Ready for round 2? d2 to d4. And what was this about going to Oz with Robin? Did you two have fun?

And they kept playing. Move by move being delivered in a sealed envelope attached to much longer letters, all hand delivered by Robin. It wasn’t truly being together but at least with this it felt like they were a little bit closer, even when forced apart.

A/N: Thanks yet again to the wonderful Stacey Dawe(fanfiction) for an equally as wonderful prompt! “Alice and killian playinf chess through correspndance.” and I tried to play a game to get a whole game of chess notatin but gave up after 3 moves bc the online game wouldn’t let me remove pieces and the compuer’s white side kept using it’s knights.

Beautiful Illustrations By Tom Booth Telling The Story Of A Woodworker Grieving The Love Of His Life

Just beautiful

— Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.”

As Luck Would Have It

Summary: What Emma wouldn’t give to make one of her many fantasies starring her favorite customer come to life (one that either takes place at work and involves a good, hard fuck on the break room table or against the stockroom shelves (hey, what can she say, she gets bored) or one that takes place in her bed). She wouldn’t be too picky about the location, just as long as she had a chance to be with him.

It’s just too bad none of her fantasies will ever come true though. And it’s not because there’s zero chance he would ever be interested in her because, well, she works at Walgreens and he’s way too good for her. 

No, it’s too bad because he’s totally and completely gay.

A/N: This is something short and fun that I wrote for @onceuponaprincessworld. I talked to you about writing this before, well I finally got around to writing the thing. I hope it at least puts a smile on your face. Happy Friday! 

Thank you @resident-of-storybrooke for looking it over!

Rated: a very Mature Teen for salty language and mature topics

For someone who hasn’t had sex in faaaaaaar too long (much longer than she cares to admit) Emma knows way too damn much about condoms. Like more than any one human being should. There are flavored condoms, ribbed condoms, dual-action condoms, pleasure shaped, lubricated, colored, french ticklers and even edible condoms. Who the hell even comes up with this shit? There are twisted condoms, her pleasure sensations, intense, warming, and pleasure packs. There are latex and ultra-thin and bare skin and ultra-smooth. The list goes on and on. 

Way too much. 

Emma never even uses them, or at least she hasn’t in years, but she works at Walgreens. She’s a Designated Hitter, so she does a little bit of everything there, and when she’s not working in the pharmacy or behind the checkout counter, she’s working in the feminine hygiene/baby/contraceptive aisle which means she orders the products, stocks them, prices them, hangs up sales tags and does it all over again the next week. 

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