#nerdout

[amongdestiny-qu33n]

FINALLY GOT THE WRAPPED!!

[arainydancer]

In Beatmania IIDX there are two separate difficulty category for songs: the difficulty rating and difficulty type. Rating goes from 1 to 12, Color is Normal, Hyper, and Another.

Every song has a Normal, Hyper, and Another, and each of these have different ratings assigned to each Color, like 4 Normal, 6 Hyper, and 9 Another. But you also can have, for example, 6 Normal, 8 Hyper, and 11 Another.

Most players measure themselves with the number system than they do with the type. "I can play level 9 songs for now." It decides their skill level. I have been slowly getting up more and more and currently I comfortably sit at playing level 10 songs, and I'm slowly trying to break into level 11.

It's a little funny how different it is at level 10. It's the gateway skill level to enter the harder segments of Beatmania. And one thing I noticed is that level 10 Hyper charts are much more difficult than level 10 Another charts these days, which is different when you go back to level 9, because level 9 Hyper charts can be pretty easy, and it gets difficult when you play the Anothers.

I think it's just because the game is telling you that there's more where that came from. When you clear a level 10 Another, that's it for that song. You're not gonna see it again in harder skill levels. When you play a Hyper, at some point, you'll get better enough that you'll play it again a couple of months/years later in a much higher difficulty.

So level 10 Hypers being harder than level 10 Anothers is like IIDX telling you, hey. We're not done yet. Ahahaha. It's tough out here

[forgetabout-thatdude]

You keep on forgetting that we're the ones who run this show

[redley-of-many-noodles]

Awesome Dark Souls fan song by NerdOut on YouTube, as the name suggests they specialize in nerding out over games and they like to turn that into epic songs like this now and then.

[froggapi-writes]

🩷┆Santa, Baby No Outbreak AU!Joel x Fem!Reader

Fluff You and Ellie convince Joel to dress up as Santa for a charity event.

Warnings Joel being HOT in everything!!! Also minor suggestive jokes, y'all are married and have a kid (Ellie), no outbreak AU! Words 1461

☞ Masterlist

— “It'd make a perfect gift...for Christmas.😏” One-Shot

It was a rare Saturday evening in the Miller household. The air smelled faintly of freshly baked cookies and the musk of pine from the tree. Outside, the snow fell in fluffy, gentle flurries, creating a picture-perfect winter scene that, honestly, could have come straight out of a Hallmark movie. But you weren't in a Hallmark movie. No, you were in the real world, which meant things were about to get... interesting.

Joel Miller, the grumpy, stubborn man you had been living with for the past few years, was sprawled on the couch, nursing a cold beer while watching some old western film. His worn flannel shirt clung to his chest, and he grumbled every now and then at the screen, as if he could somehow change the outcome with his disapproval. But the night wasn’t going to end in typical Joel fashion. You and Ellie had plans.

Ellie, your bright, mischievous teenage daughter, sat on the other couch, scrolling through her phone, a grin tugging at her lips. You’d been plotting for days, trying to figure out the perfect way to convince Joel to do something utterly ridiculous. And Ellie was always up for a little chaos.

“Hey, Mom,” Ellie said, looking up from her phone with an innocent smile. "You know what would be really funny?”

“Don’t even start,” Joel muttered, barely glancing up from his movie.

“No, seriously,” she continued, undeterred. “I’m talking about something that would really bring some holiday cheer to this house. And, you know, maybe to the whole town...”

You raised an eyebrow. You could already feel the drama in the air. “What were you thinking, Ellie?”

She sat up a little straighter, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “We should totally get Dad to dress up as Santa Claus for the charity event tomorrow. It’s for a good cause, and it would be so hilarious.” She turned to Joel, who was now giving her a side-eye. “Dad, I mean, you’ve got the whole ‘beard and gruff demeanor’ thing down already. You’d be perfect!”

Joel let out a low, annoyed grunt. “Hell no.”

“Oh come on, Dad,” you said, leaning over the arm of the couch with a smile that you hoped would be irresistibly sweet. “It’s just for one night. Think of all the little kids who will get to sit on Santa’s lap and tell him their wishes. Think of the joy you’ll bring, Joel. The happiness.”

Joel’s lips twisted into that familiar half-smile that made him look like he was both entertained and mildly irritated at the same time. “You think I’m gonna put on some stupid red suit and pretend to be jolly for a bunch of kids? Not in a million years.”

“Oh, come on, please,” you pleaded, eyelashes batting sweetly. “You’d look so adorable. And you’d be doing something good for the community. You know, spreading some Christmas spirit. Just think about how much fun it would be!”

Ellie, who was an expert in persuasion (mostly because she had spent years convincing you to let her stay out later than you intended), joined in, her voice now a perfect blend of child-like and mischievous. “Yeah, Dad. We could even take a picture of you in the outfit. You’d be a legend around town. Imagine all the ‘Santa Joel’ memes that would pop up. People would never forget.”

Joel’s scowl deepened. He set his beer down with a heavy sigh. “Y’all are ridiculous. There’s no way I’m doing this.”

But Ellie wasn’t done yet. “Dad, remember last year when we barely had enough money for Christmas presents?” She raised an eyebrow. “This is for charity, remember? The money goes to families who actually need it. You could help them. You could be a hero, Dad.”

For a moment, Joel’s tough exterior wavered. His eyes softened just a fraction, and you knew Ellie was playing her trump card. There was no way he could resist doing something for the community after everything that had happened. You had both played the long game.

Joel finally let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. But I’m not wearing no stupid hat.”

Ellie and you exchanged a look, both of you struggling to contain your victorious grins. You’d won.

“Deal,” Ellie said quickly, a smirk forming on her lips.

_____

The next day, you stood in the living room, trying not to burst out laughing. Joel had, begrudgingly, put on the tacky Santa suit you had bought, and the sight of him was... well, it was something. The suit barely fit him—the pants were too short, and the jacket strained around his broad shoulders, but that wasn’t what made it so hilarious. No, what really got you was the fact that, despite everything, Joel Miller looked damn good in that outfit.

You'd always known Joel was handsome, but something about the combination of his dark hair, his weathered features, and the jolly red suit made your heart skip a beat. The suit wasn’t a perfect fit—in fact, it was a little ridiculous—but he wore it with an undeniable swagger that had you feeling... distracted. You tried not to stare, but it was hard.

“Do I look like an idiot?” Joel grumbled, his arms crossed over his stomach as he stood in the middle of the living room, glaring at you both.

Ellie, whose phone was already snapping pictures, nodded enthusiastically. “Yep. But it’s perfect. You look like a Christmas miracle.”

You stepped closer, trying to be discreet about how much you were appreciating the view. “You actually look... kind of... uh, good,” you said, your voice catching slightly as you forced yourself to focus on his face instead of his muscles pressed against the fabric.

Joel blinked at you, clearly taken aback. “What? Are you serious?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, pinking a bit as you spoke. “I mean, in a ‘Santa Claus’ kind of way. It’s just... the suit really does something for you, Joel.”

Ellie snorted. “Mom, don’t be obvious. We all know you’re secretly into the idea of Santa Joel.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “Y’all are insane.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “We’re gonna be late for this thing if you two don’t stop laughing.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Sorry, Joel. You’re just... unexpectedly handsome in that suit.”

Joel grumbled something under his breath but then straightened up, trying to look more like the Santa Claus you knew he wasn’t.

_____

When you arrived at the event, you had to admit, Joel was, if not entirely comfortable, at least pulling off the Santa role better than anyone could have expected. He grumbled as kids approached him to ask for their Christmas wishes, but when he handed out candy canes with a scowl that could’ve scared the Grinch into submission, it only made the kids love him more.

You watched from the sidelines as Joel awkwardly posed for pictures, his arms crossed protectively over his bulging red belly, the belt of the Santa suit straining around his waist. Ellie was having the time of her life, sneaking in behind him for selfies and laughing when Joel tried (and failed) to look “serious” for a photo.

At one point, one of the little girls approached Joel with wide, hopeful eyes. “Santa, can I ask for a puppy for Christmas?”

Joel looked down at the girl, his glare deepening as he itched his beard. “Look, sweetheart, I’m just the guy who shows up. You gotta talk to your folks about the dog situation.”

You bit your lip to hold back a laugh, watching as the little girl looked disappointed, but then she brightened up when Joel handed her a candy cane with a gruff, “Here, kid. Don’t tell your parents I gave you extra sugar.”

It was moments like these, watching Joel Miller try to be Santa, that made everything feel right.

_____

As the event wrapped up and you and Ellie headed home, Joel still hadn’t shed the Santa suit, though he was clearly done with the whole “Christmas spirit” thing. Ellie’s excitement hadn't dimmed at all, teasing filling the silence the whole car ride home.

You glanced over at Joel as he drove, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. Despite everything, there was something undeniably cute about the way he looked in that suit. You tried to act casual, but when your eyes met his, you couldn't help but smirk as your fingers traced down his arm.

"Joel," you said coyly, "You really do look good in red."

He shot you a sideways glance. "I swear, woman, if you don’t stop looking at me like that, I might have to put both of us on the naughty list."

With that, you knew that Christmas had come early. 😉

[mariblahblahs]

wish i was an english gal but instead im a "let me show u how to prove the quadratic formula and why it works ☝️🤓" gal

[ramazithsfinest]

| for @feyrevelry |

The days since becoming the new master of Ramazith's Tower tended to feel, in varying degrees, like dithering in place. Restful sleep would come and go, the sounds of doors or fallen books often startled him more than seemed normal, and he was still working on not tensing up in trepidation when the sun set.

But sometimes, he was favored with enough calm and clarity to make forward steps. For instance, he'd discovered quite the powerful magical weapon installed within the tower itself, no doubt meant to be another line of defense for the city. He had a vague but strong feeling it would be needed, sooner rather than later.

Right now, however, was the calm before that nebulous storm.

Because right now, Rolan was adjusting the robe Sylverian had picked out for him, when they'd spent an afternoon shopping to ease the other's mind amid more important decisions. The cut of it was quite different to his usual, its neckline a low V whose first clasp sat below his chest. Those clasps then ended level with his hips, open in the front down to the hem around his shins. A similar slit in the back allowed his tail free movement. The rich blue fabric and its swirls of silver brocade was what caused his fidgeting, from a worry his poor background would make him look ridiculous in such fine clothes.

Sighing at himself, Rolan turned away from the looking-glass and made for the bedroom door. He was being absurd. Sylverian had done nothing but praise how the robes, pale trousers, and dark boots had looked on him since Rolan had first tried them on. A habitual check that his usual hairstyle properly covered the ends of his ears, and he stepped out into the tower's study.

Rolan only had time to adjust a few tomes on one shelf before he heard someone step through the shop portal. The stride didn't sound like Lia's or Cal's. He turned with a warm smile, already looking forward to wherever Sylverian had in mind to visit this time.

[maradovan]

Ch 13

Rereading this series with a more acute knowledge of art history makes me wonder about Liliana's self portrait. For how rare women's artwork from past centuries are to find nowadays, especially from relatively unknown figures, Id think its safe to assume that the book Prof Devine has with the portrait is an original that belongs to Rosewood Hall, since it would be reasonable to believe that Liliana's portrait could only be found in her own school all these years later

[best-fnaf-song-competition]

Best 2023 FNAF Fan Song Loser's Bracket: Round 2

Run (xXtha)

Treat You Right (NerdOut!)

[fefairys]

my brother can’t even spell my name righttttt 😭😭😭 it’s not kat it’s CAT like the ANIMAL THAT I LOVE MORE THAN ANYTHING???? come on man…

[coldercreation]

I know many people have said this before but the way Nathan was characterized is so realistically good. I relate a lot to what Nathan goes through and honestly wish he was real so him and I can be friends. Thank you for writing CYE and the whole series in general. With the way you write Nathan, if you don't mind me asking, what is the reference you used for him because he was the first person that was accurate!

Aaa, thank you so much<3 I'm so glad you have found CYE and the series and Nathan relatable, it means a lot to me and makes me really happy!

I'm not sure what you mean by reference, but if you mean the mental health aspects I used to build his character, I do have some specific research points that could be helpful. I also just recently posted about my personal vitamin deficiencies that most definitely have affected the way I describe feelings in my writing. As in, no matter what the characters' circumstances are or what's happening to them in the story, I will use my personal experience with anxiety, depression, "how life feels" to describe their anxiety, depression, "how their life feels". So, like I said in that post; ignoring what is causing Nathan's anxiety etc. in the story, if you relate to how he FEELS and how I have described those feelings... feeling(?), I'd recommend checking your vitamins lol.

I wrote in the tags of that post: "The description of Nathan's experience could and would still be rather accurate, even if you don't have these physical health issues! Depression and anxiety etc from a deficiency is still depression and anxiety. + When I write Nathan I have a set of mental health “maps” or “guides” for his character (like C-PTSD and CEN and OCD). Yes I use my own feelings and experiences to describe his anxiety etc, but his character is built around these specific mental health markers / trauma research / symptoms etc (like C-PTSD and CEN and OCD). So I'm pretty sure Nathan's POV would still look very similar based on just that research and ignoring the stuff about deficiencies."

I mentioned some of those mental health/trauma/character marker 'reference' points for Nathan in those tags. I've done a lot of reading into these topics and refer to them time to time whenever I get more into a Nathan's POV chapter where these things get more relevant. There's a bunch of old posts about my research on this blog too if you scroll down... forever hahah! (Go to the Archive and scroll all the way down to November 2019, that way you should be able to skim over most of the text posts that have some of my research. There's more hidden behind a few of the photo posts so you'll have to scroll through a bit more if you want to find everything😅)

I haven't really identified or "diagnosed" Nathan with anything specific, as that didn't really feel necessary nor even right to me. I looked into what his type of childhood experiences etc. could lead up to in adulthood and how they could possibly present themselves, and started building his story around that, trying to 'match' the psychology with his experiences. Sometimes I've also flipped the script the other way; After learning about a 'symptom' described in the research, I've introduced it for Nathan's character, and after that also included the circumstances that would've/could've led to him exhibiting that symptom. Often I also just wing it lmao; my writing is not medical information even though I do try to research a lot. It's all fiction, but with a psychology / self-help like twist? Or something.

Here's some of the research points for Nathan's character building:

C-PTSD = Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

Emotional Flashbacks

CEN = Childhood Emotional Neglect | This was a big character source!

OCD = Obsessive Compulsive Disorder | Nathan has some tendencies

4Fs – Fight, Flight, Freeze, and Fawn Trauma/Stress responses | Nathan's character is built around the Freeze type (in his childhood situation, the other Fs weren't really an option for him; couldn't fight back, couldn't leave, couldn't change the situation by behaving 'well')

General Anxiety

Social Anxiety

(Self) Isolation | I also read about Hikikomori, and later about the effects of the pandemic Lockdowns and how those have been affecting us.

Chronic Shame

Mother Wound

etc.

Hope that's helpful if this was what you meant! Thank you again, I'm so glad you've liked my writing xx

[coolrobloxkid28]

[jedi253]

Spoilers ahead. First episode of Ashoka was very well put together. I think the casting is spectacular and I was so excited to see the droid Jedi master( who’s name eludes me at the moment.). I can definitely tell they are building to something big.

[pageturnershit]

So… were fanfics anyone else’s gay awaking or was it just me?

[froggapi-writes]

🩵┆Weight of the World Platonic!Tony Stark x Reader

Sad/Comfort Tony looks to you for reassurance after he hits a breaking point.

Warnings Just sad tony, depression Words 1125

☞ Masterlist

— “When you can't even explain what's going on inside your own head anymore.” Long-ish Drabble

You had never quite understood how heavy silence could feel until you found yourself sitting in the remote, quiet confines of Tony Stark's lab. It was late. The soft hum of machines and the occasional beep of monitors were the only sounds that filled the otherwise empty space. You had been here for hours, your fingers absently tracing the rim of your coffee cup, the warmth of the mug doing little to ward off the chill that had settled in your bones.

The world was a heavy place. The kind of heavy that sometimes felt like it might crush you if you didn’t keep moving, keep working, keep pushing. But even the most relentless of forces needed rest. And right now, it felt like he needed it more than anyone.

Tony had always been a whirlwind—faster than the world around him, making jokes to mask his pain, pushing boundaries to avoid facing his own demons. You’d known him long enough to see through the bravado, to see the brokenness behind his quick smile and even quicker wit. You’d seen it in the way his hands would shake ever so slightly when he thought no one was looking, or the way his eyes would linger on the ruins of his past, as if the memories could be reassembled if he just stared for long enough.

Tonight, the world had worn him down more than usual. You hadn’t meant to intrude, but when you found him stumbling through the lab, his usually sharp mind fuzzy and distracted, you couldn’t leave him alone.

You hadn’t said much when you sat down beside him—just placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. And that was all it took. Without a word, he’d slumped against you, the weight of the world suddenly on your shoulders.

Now, hours had passed, and still, Tony hadn’t moved. His body was curled in a chair, his head resting on the backrest, eyes shut tight. He was thinking, you knew. Thinking about everything and nothing all at once. It was the quietest you’d ever seen him.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice a soft intrusion into the silence.

Tony’s eyes flickered open, meeting yours with that familiar glint of humor, though it was muted, as if the weight of exhaustion had dimmed it. His lips lifted up into a tired, half-hearted smile.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice rough, like he hadn’t spoken in days. “You’re still here?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, not wanting to make him feel bad about your presence, though a small part of you wished you could be elsewhere. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Tony didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned his head, gaze drifting back to the array of screens in front of him, each one filled with data and blueprints for the next iteration of whatever crazy project he was working on.

“I’m fine,” he said, voice distant. “It’s just...this never-ending cycle. The more I try to fix, the more I break.”

You nodded, not expecting him to elaborate further. You never did. Tony had a tendency to retreat into his work when things got too heavy, to bury himself in technology as if their electric glow was the only thing that could keep the darkness at bay. But you knew better. You knew that all the suits in the world couldn’t protect him from the ghosts of his past.

“The Avengers aren’t a cure-all,” you said softly, attempting to breach the topic gently without triggering his walls to raise. “We can’t save everyone.”

Tony’s shoulders tensed at the words. His gaze hardened, but he didn’t turn to face you. You could see the shift in him, the familiar disconnection he forced when he didn’t want to admit how much he cared.

“I’m not trying to save everyone,” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction. “Just...the ones I can. The ones who matter.”

You watched him, your heart aching for him. He was always like this—always trying to be the hero, the one who could do it all. But you had seen the cracks in his armor, the times when the weight of responsibility threatened to bury him alive. Tonight was no different.

“I know,” you said gently. “But even you can’t do it all, Tony. You’re only human.”

His eyes flickered to you then, the sharp edges of his expression softening ever so slightly.

“I know,” he repeated, the words so light it was almost a whisper. “It’s just... sometimes it feels like it’s never enough. Like nothing I do will ever be able to fix it.”

You shifted closer, your hand still resting on his shoulder, offering what little comfort you could. You didn’t have all the answers, but you didn’t need them. All he needed was someone to sit with him, someone who wouldn’t judge, wouldn’t try to fix him. Someone who understood that sometimes, the best thing you could do was just be there.

“You don’t have to fix everything,” you said quietly. “You just have to be you.”

Tony let out a long, slow breath, his eyes closing again as he leaned back further into the chair, letting himself sink into the rare moment of vulnerability.

“That’s the thing, though,” he muttered, voice barely audible. “I don’t know who that is anymore. I used to...but I’m not sure anymore.”

You could hear the weight of those words. Tony Stark, the man who had reinvented himself so many times, who had built an empire from his own genius and ambition, had lost sight of who he was underneath all the armor. The truth of it flushed over you like a cold wave.

“Hey,” you asserted again, firmer this time. “You’re still you. You’re just... tired. And that’s okay. We all need to rest and reboot.”

For a long moment, there was nothing but the eternal, soft buzz of machinery, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. Then, finally, Tony spoke again, his voice a whisper, almost vulnerable.

“You’ve always been there for me, haven’t you?”

You nodded, unsure if he even needed an answer. The bond between the two of you had always been natural, a quiet understanding that neither of you felt the need to put into words. But now, in the stillness of the lab, you realized just how much that meant.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Always.”

There was a long pause, that for once, you didn’t feel the need to fill. Tony didn’t either. He just sat there, leaning into the comfort you offered, a rare moment of peace in a life that was anything but.

The weight of the world might still be heavy on his shoulders, but for tonight, at least, Tony didn’t have to bear it alone.

And that was enough.

[mariblahblahs]

on break do u and ur coworkers sing theatre harmonies or are we just losers