#but i wanted to highlight a positive and good example

[jen-with-a-pen]

A good example !

I wanted to take a second to highlight this user in the midst of the "discourse" in spam liking and not reblogging.

When I saw this in my notifs just now, I about cried.

THIS IS WHAT ITS SUPPOSED TO LOOK LIKE.

BE THIS PERSON. THIS IS HOW YOU SHOULD BE DOING IT.

We are not fucking kidding when we say reblogging takes literally two seconds. This user is still liking and sharing!! You don't even have to add tags!! When you spam like we expect spam reblogging for our works!!

This is the bar. The bar is 6ft under yet lots of y'all are literally still going under it and it's fucking insane.

Anyways to you @sjsmith56 I pat you on the head and offer you a cookie. It's snickerdoodle. Hope that's okay.

If y'all don't mind, I'm tagging just a few mutuals in order to highlight this along with my other post.

@navybrat817 @targaryenvampireslayer @fushic0re @bucksangel @eulalielatibule @cocoamoonmalfoy

[wonder-worker]

Margaret of Anjou’s visit to Coventry [in 1456], which was part of her dower and that of her son, Edward of Lancaster, was much more elaborate. It essentially reasserted Lancastrian power. The presence of Henry and the infant Edward was recognised in the pageantry. The ceremonial route between the Bablake gate and the commercial centre was short, skirting the area controlled by the cathedral priory, but it made up for its brevity with no fewer than fourteen pageants. Since Coventry had an established cycle of mystery plays, there were presumably enough local resources and experience to mount an impressive display; but one John Wetherby was summoned from Leicester to compose verses and stage the scenes. As at Margaret’s coronation the iconography was elaborate, though it built upon earlier developments.

Starting at Bablake gate, next to the Trinity Guild church of St. Michael, Bablake, the party was welcomed with a Tree of Jesse, set up on the gate itself, with the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah explaining the symbolism. Outside St. Michael’s church the party was greeted by Edward the Confessor and St. John the Evangelist; and proceeding to Smithford Street, they found on the conduit the four Cardinal Virtues—Righteousness (Justice?), Prudence, Temperance, and Fortitude. In Cross Cheaping wine flowed freely, as in London, and angels stood on the cross, censing Margaret as she passed. Beyond the cross was pitched a series of pageants, each displaying one of the Nine Worthies, who offered to serve Margaret. Finally, the queen was shown a pageant of her patron saint, Margaret, slaying the dragon [which 'turned out to be strictly an intercessor on the queen's behalf', as Helen Maurer points out].

The meanings here are complex and have been variously interpreted. An initial reading of the programme found a message of messianic kingship: the Jesse tree equating royal genealogy with that of Christ had been used at the welcome for Henry VI on his return from Paris in 1432. A more recent, feminist view is that the symbolism is essentially Marian, and to be associated with Margaret both as queen and mother of the heir rather than Henry himself. The theme is shared sovereignty, with Margaret equal to her husband and son. Ideal kingship was symbolised by the presence of Edward the Confessor, but Margaret was the person to whom the speeches were specifically addressed and she, not Henry, was seen as the saviour of the house of Lancaster. This reading tips the balance too far the other way: the tableau of Edward the Confessor and St. John was a direct reference to the legend of the Ring and the Pilgrim, one of Henry III’s favourite stories, which was illustrated in Westminster Abbey, several of his houses, and in manuscript. It symbolised royal largesse, and its message at Coventry would certainly have encompassed the reigning king. Again, the presence of allegorical figures, first used for Henry, seems to acknowledge his presence. Yet, while the message of the Coventry pageants was directed at contemporary events it emphasised Margaret’s motherhood and duties as queen; and it was expressed as a traditional spiritual journey from the Old Testament, via the incarnation represented by the cross, to the final triumph over evil, with the help of the Virgin, allegory, and the Worthies. The only true thematic innovation was the commentary by the prophets.

[...] The messages of the pageants firmly reminded the royal women of their place as mothers and mediators, honoured but subordinate. Yet, if passive, these young women were not without significance. It is clear from the pageantry of 1392 and 1426 in London and 1456 in Coventry that when a crisis needed to be resolved, the queen (or regent’s wife) was accorded extra recognition. Her duty as mediator—or the good aspect of a misdirected man—suddenly became more than a pious wish. At Coventry, Margaret of Anjou was even presented as the rock upon which the monarchy rested. [However,] a crisis had to be sensed in order to provoke such emphasis [...]."

-Nicola Coldstream, "Roles of Women in Late Medieval Civic Pageantry," "Reassessing the Roles of Women as 'Makers' of Medieval Art and Culture"

[ranboolivesaysstuff]

HEY! Just because I am now 20 I think having something to kind of re establish boundaries would be good! Considering the ones I put all those times ago have changed :D GENERAL RULES! Do not be racist, sexist, homophobic, antisemitic, ableist, or discriminatory against anyone for any reason. Please if someone is calling you out for things you have done or said, please self-reflect and take the proper steps to change or remove yourself from the community. If you see something you do not like, and it IS MADE WORSE BY BRINGING ATTENTION TO IT, THEN IGNORE IT! Bringing attention to problems that just arent really problems with either the community or me in general are not worth it! Please use common sense when thinking about what/what not to engage with! I personally wish that people in the community do NOT engage with people who just obviously do not like me! Chances are they want a reaction from it so it is MUCH better to just not argue with someone whos mind you will not change! ALLOW CRITICISM OF ME AND MY CONTENT! IF YOU DONT AGREE OR DONT LIKE THEN DO NOT ARGUE ABOUT IT!!!! ALL IT WILL DO IS CAUSE UNESSICARY DRAMA!!! DO NOT make ANY comments or content about me that is explicitly sexual. I completely understand that lately there have been bits due to the changes in how I’ve been presenting myself and how I’ve been presenting more femininely, but that does not allow anyone to use that as an excuse to sexualize any features and such that are more feminine or masculine. Remember that femininity is not sexual and should not be seen or created as such just because its there! (for example, the Vtuber costume and chat being overly weird over the added boobs where there was no need for it). DO NOT draw me in ways that are sexual either, such as highlighting any aspects in a sexual way, or making the content something sexual. I am completely okay with being drawn as any body type, masculine presenting or feminine presenting, as long as you stick to this! PLEASE DO NOT SPECULATE ABOUT MY PERSONAL LIFE!!! Making jokes about certain topics CAN be fine, but a line is crossed when it becomes a legitimate speculation or if a joke is said when I have expressed my discomfort! RESPECT MY FRIENDS!!! All of my friends are their own, incredible people. And they do not deserve to be lumped in or referred to as JUST "my friend". Be respectful in their chats even when im not there, and be respectful to all of them everywhere else! IF SOMEONE IS TRYING TO INFORM YOU THAT YOU MAY BE DOING SOMETHING WRONG PLEASE LISTEN!!! There has been a lot of times in which I have seen people be unwilling to change in the face of a genuine discussion, and that is not something I want in the community! I should NOT have to police every single thing because it should NOT take me saying something in order to change your mind! As my words are not worth more or less when it comes to a lot of subjects! And lastly, do good. Whenever you have the ability to. BE POSITIVE!!! The hater mindset is very draining and can be very toxic to both you and the people around you, so highlight the good instead of the bad if you have the ability to! I am so incredibly proud of how far this community has come, and I cannot wait for the future!!! I have spent some time writing this, but it may not be perfect, so I will update this as time goes on and I think of more, or if something needs to be SUPER cleared up, but for now these are the main ones! I will NOT be updating this after every little thing however, as I do not want you guys to feel like the only way that something is wrong is if I talk about it! As you guys should be able to sustain yourself as a community without my consistent input! Imma go enjoy my birthday by eating a pizza :) thank you all!

[cdlum]

I just wanted to say I think your art style is awesome! I was wondering if you had any tutorials on how you draw anatomy in your style (hips and legs especially)? Sorry if there's already one posted and I just didn't see it 🥲. Happy New Year :>

thanks for the kind words. i tend to draw people pretty stylized and then some so a good bit of artistic licence gets used. these tips are just what i use so feel free to take them with a grain of salt. with anatomy in particular you can kind of talk in circles because human/animal bodies are that complex so ill just zone in on the points you specified. here's a little image with a bunch of pointers:

the above image condenses a lot of the points I'd make, but basically the key parts are to start with the bare essentials and build up that complexity. using a line of action is a good way to get a quick, rough start. you draw a line out in the general direction of the pose and do your best to adhere to it to give the pose a sense of flow.

you can also draw smaller, thumbnail versions that throw a lot of caution to the wind but capture the basic energy of what you're going for. even having a tiny little stick figure version of your idea can make for a good guideline of where to take it forward.

when it comes to actual limbs, you wanna consider how they integrate and work together, kind of like how chains do. you can see on some of the parts of pear i've drawn out these wireframes to kind of portray how the mass of her legs works in a three dimensional space. for aspects like the waist/hips, i use that X technique i highlight above a lot, particularly for the lower torso. a lot of the times, even when drawing a character totally naked, imagining them wearing things like skintight underwear can help a lot to guide you in the right direction.

its also a good idea to consider things like gravity and weight to a degree. humans are essentially big meat sacks and gravity is always pulling down on that, but theres all kinds of aspects that effect that, such as character build or clothing. pear technically isn't naked in this, but i've tried to imagine her as such and take that into account.

if you are drawing digitally, don't be afraid to take advantage of the convenience you get with that workflow. you can retry and iterate on things a lot faster that pen and paper, and do things that aren't really feasible at all when it comes to editing and modifying your existing work. things like resizing certain bodyparts, instantly flipping the canvas, or using selection tools to completely adjust the positions of parts of your drawing. to give you an example heres a timelapse with all the little edits i made just to this demo drawing:

you don't have to use these techniques linearly, either. sometimes ill have a really solid idea for a piece in my head, and go back to basics with certain elements if they’re not coming out right or i just want to brush them up a bit more. some of the tutorial-y parts i added in i didn't actually use during the drawing but often do use so they're there just for demonstration. not every drawing i do starts as building blocks or a really basic version, often ill just start with a face and build it out from there.

i always encourage liberally using references (this can include yourself) and trying out stuff like life drawing or looking at things like existing photographs of real people/places/things if you can, the more you use learning material the better you'll draw up a mental inventory in your head that you can rely on more and more. some of these tips are things i've learned from other artists over the years (the chin one especially i remember seeing a tutorial about lol), so this is a lot of knowledge i've amassed from other sources over time myself. there are plenty of times ill use all sorts of reference material and its all in service of arriving at the final destination as smoothly as possible. learn by doing, as they say. hope this helps!

[ofbreathandflame]

This is a very long post!

These last couple of months, it’s been interesting to talk about Nesta as a character and how her subsequent characterization is so integral to pointing out the problems in the series. Whether or not you view Nesta to be ‘real’ or ‘good’ character is one thing, and often subjective. Our own personal backgrounds may muddle or influence whether we like these characters or not.

The reason why I think Nesta is an interesting character is because of how she kind of…ruins the story, or the illusion of a story we are given. There are many times in the story where I think SJM could have elaborated on the qualities that she gushes about, but she intentionally chooses not to. For example, if SJM kept Rhysand consistent, I could see him disliking Nesta and wanting to actually hurt her, but have him think about Feyre and her wants and ultimately relent to Feyre’s want. One thing about Tamlin’s abuse that I think was done well was the fact that he genuinely seems broken up by the fact he can’t control his anger, and he feels something akin to guilt, but he doesn’t stop the abuse. It highlights the effect of the victim, not the intention of the abuser. I don’t know if it was intentionally done, but I liked that element of his abuse. I also liked that the dangers that Tamlin are worried about are real – the threat is real. Why? Because I think it proves, to some extent, that we should not justify abuse, even if the abuse seems rational. It proves that in this world, these men should still adhere to the fact of self-control. How can Feyre in a relationship with Tamlin if he can’t regulate his emotions around her?

But then the story does something weird – it embodies Rhysand with these very same qualities. It also recreates Tamlin’s abuse of Feyre with…Nesta – and then justifies it. Nesta arrives in a similar position as Feyre, yet the story goes to great lengths to vilify her for not reaching out; this is a far-cry from how the story (and stans) think about Feyre. (paint scene, fire scene, solstice scene, and hiking scene). We're supposed to sympathize with the decisions being made; so much rides on the fact that the IC are doing this out of the kindness of their heart:

Did Nesta notice the faint glimmer of worry in Amren’s smoky eyes—understand how rare it was? More than that, did Nesta understand that this meeting wasn’t to condemn her, but instead came from a place of concern? Her simmering stare told him she considered this purely an attack.

We're supposed to think about the worry of the Inner Circle and not think about the way they've decided to express their worry. Its similar to this scene that we get with Lucien to Feyre about Tamlin:

“I’ve given him time,” I said. “I can’t stay cooped up in the house forever.” “He knows that—he doesn’t say it, but he knows it. Trust me. You will forgive him if his family’s own slaughter keeps him from being so … liberal with your safety. He’s lost those he cares for too many times. We all have.” Every word was like fuel added to the simmering pit in my gut. “I don’t want to marry a High Lord. I just want to marry him.”“One doesn’t exist without the other. He is what he is. He will always, always seek to protect you, whether you like it or not. Talk to him about it—really talk to him, Feyre. You’ll figure it out.” Our gazes met. A muscle feathered in Lucien’s jaw. “Don’t ask me to pick.” “But you’re deliberately not telling me things.” “He is my High Lord. His word is law. We have this one chance, Feyre, to rebuild and make the world as it should be. I will not begin that new world by breaking his trust. Even if you …”

Lucien is continually asking Feyre to place Tamlin over her own happiness; he is asking her to consider his feelings before she considers his own - partially because this is the way Lucien is characterized to handle Tamlin's abuse himself. Cassian is asking Nesta to consider the Inner Circle's intention over how she feels. Amren and Rhys immediately shame and threaten Nesta - she is valid in her anger. She has interpreted this meeting as an attack...because it was. I think its especially telling that the later scene is asking Nesta to have empathy for Amren who is arguably the most abusive, abrasive, and unproductive person in that entire meeting. The second part of Lucien's monologue end's up being true for Nesta as the Inner Circle end up doing the same thing to control Nesta's behavior -- whether that be by leveraging Elain, outright forcing her, or even the decision to withhold Nesta's power from her -- these echo the exact same plot points we see in MAF with Feyre.

Let’s compare some scenes:

It was worse than a crown, actually. Built into the box were compartments and sleeves and holders, all full of brushes and paints and charcoal and sheets of paper. A traveling painting kit. Red—the red paint inside the glass vial was so bright, the blue as stunning as the eyes of that faerie woman I’d slaughtered— “I thought you might want it to take around the grounds with you. Rather than lug all those bags like you always do.” The brushes were fresh, gleaming—the bristles soft and clean. Looking at that box, at what was inside, felt like examining a crow-picked corpse. I tried to smile. Tried to will some brightness to my eyes. He said, “You don’t like it.” (MAF: Chapter 9)

“You’re going, even if you have to be tied up and hauled there. You will follow Cassian’s lessons, and you will do whatever work Clotho requires in the library.” Nesta blocked out the memory—of the dark depths of that library, the ancient monster that had dwelled there. It had saved them from Hybern’s cronies, yes, but … She refused to think of it. “You will respect her, and the other priestesses in the library,” Feyre said, “and you will never give them a moment’s trouble. Any free time is yours to spend as you wish. In the House.” Hot rage pumped through her, so loud Nesta could barely hear the real fire before which her sister paced. Was glad of the roaring in her head when the sound of wood cracking as it burned was so much like her father’s breaking neck that she couldn’t stand to light a fire in her own home. “You had no right to close up my apartment, to take my things—” (Silver Flames; Chapter 2)

She could barely stand to hear the crack and pop of the wood. Had barely been able to endure it in Feyre’s town house. Snap; crunch. (FAS: Chapter 21)

"He had Enough of the coldness, the sharpness. Enough of the sword-straight spine and razor-sharp stare that had only honed itself these months"

He understood. He really did. It had taken him months—years—after his first battles to readjust. To cope. Hell, he was still reeling from what had happened in that final battle with Hybern, too

Another grin as he lifted the small, wrapped parcel. “Your Solstice present.” “I don’t want one (FAS)

“Nesta forged a new Trove,” Cassian said, reining in his rage at the truth of Azriel’s words. “She could create anything.” He nodded to Rhys. “She could fill our arsenals with weapons that would win us any war.” Briallyn, Koschei, and Beron wouldn’t stand a chance. “Which is why Nesta must not learn about it,” Amren said. Cassian demanded, “What?” Amren’s gray eyes held steady. “She cannot know.” Rhys said, “That seems like a risk. What if, unaware, she creates more?” “What if, in one of her moods,” Amren challenged, “Nesta creates what she pleases just to spite us…’ (SF)

He appealed to Rhys, “You’re all right with this? Because I’m sure as hell not.” “Amren’s order holds,” Rhys said, and for a heartbeat, Cassian hated him. Hated the mistrust and wariness he beheld on Rhys’s face.(SF

“No. She knows the labor will be difficult, but I haven’t told her yet that it might very well claim her life.” Rhys spoke into their minds, as if he couldn’t say it aloud, I haven’t told her that the nightmares that now send me lurching from sleep aren’t ones of the past, but of the future. Cassian squeezed Rhys’s shoulder. “Why won’t you tell her?” Rhys’s throat worked. “Because I can’t bring myself to give her that fear. To take away one bit of the joy in her eyes every time she puts a hand on her belly.” His voice shook. “It is fucking eating me alive, this terror. I keep myself busy, but … there is no one to bargain with for her life, no amount of wealth to buy it, nothing that I can do to save her.

So much is happening here – there’s actually more scenes, but I don’t want to go and find them all. I wanted to include more similarities between Feyre and Nesta (I might make a separate post with all of those). To some extent, I think a lot of these quotes, even without elaboration echo the point I’m about to make. In quote #4, Cassian’s narration berates Nesta for not being integrated into the family and not being happy at Solsitice, but we the audience know that Nesta (1) isn’t being talked to, (2) she can barely stand the sound of the fire, (3) Feyre forced Nesta to come by essentially holding her rent over her head. And there’s just way to many parallels between how Nesta feels at the NC and how Feyre felt at the Spring Court. Nesta is drowning; she tells us that – Rhysand’s subtle anger is something she not only notices, but internalizes. She specifically mentions that she doesn’t take any of Rhysand’s positions because they were pity offerings; he’s only doing it because of Feyre. The story then decides to let him spearhead the conversations around Nesta’s autonomy. In the first quote, Tamlin's overall ignorance regarding Feyre's mental state, and her aversion to things such as the color Red were considered red flags; yet when Nesta has an aversion to fire, when she is neglected and nearly dies the story spends so much time trying to tell the audience that Cassian simply didn't know - it doesn't say anything about him.

But one of the biggest indicators of this ruin of the story is the fact that Amren and Rhys believe that Nesta should not have her power because ““What if, in one of her moods,” Amren challenged, “Nesta creates what she pleases just to spite us?” (Maas). The issue, as consistently reiterated, is a control one. They don’t trust Nesta simply because they cannot control her – that is what is highlighted as the issue in the story. Furthermore, Feyre doesn’t let Nesta know, she defers to a process that she doesn’t have to. She outranks everyone in that room; if she wanted to tell Nesta was rules would stop her – that’s literally been the way Feyre has characterized (see: Wraiths, the HL meeting attacking Beron, Tarquin and the BoB, Mor/Feyre w/ the Suriel), yet in this moment when she disagrees with Rhys – she essentially defers to his command. She simply expresses a subtle wariness and then moves on. Feyre has the power to just tell Nesta is the point that I am making here. It’s Nesta’s power; they forced her to do these tasks, and when she has one moment of autonomy in making the sword – they are argue that Rhys should make himself High King and Cassian, despite his earlier provocations, believes in this. He agrees with it. And even though I am going on this long, wordy analysis, I think a lot of what I am saying is kind of really clear In these quotes even without explaining.

To bring this back, Rhys (and Feyre somewhat) are only excused because the story believes their intentions were good (see quote #7), which conflicts with what we’ve already seen. These are…the exact same justifications we get about Tamlin; he truly believes that by making her safe, he is making her happy – but we know Feyre values truth over safety. And so the story undermines its lessons by not condemning the actions of its characters and instead leans into moralistic reasons. The argument now isn't even that Nesta isn't being abused, but stans and even the story (subtextually) believe that Nesta deserves the abuse - or that it's purely a consequence of her own immaturity, yet this is a far-cry to how Feyre is perceived in similar situations. The story argues that these characters understand that Nesta is not in her right mind - but constantly the story expects her act functionally in the face of her depression, even though the very reason the decided to lock her up is because they all unanimously believed she could not function by herself. She's expected to respond appropriately to their jabs, do missions on their behalf, train, and work at the library with no pay. She cannot leave Velaris without a Chaperone and all of her Chaporene are employed officials who are gone for the entirety of the book. No one ever actually offers to ever take Nesta out to see the town. I am seriously tired, and really concerned with the way Nesta's abuse is talked about.

[jozor-johai]

Ned has this small speech in AGOT Bran I about why he must behead Gared, and I think there's some really interesting takeaways. Not about why he must do it, the part he focuses on; the part Ned doesn't focus on: why it's legal, and what that means for Gared.

"Do you understand why I did it?" "He was a wildling," Bran said. "They carry off women and sell them to the Others." His lord father smiled. "Old Nan has been telling you stories again. In truth, the man was an oathbreaker, a deserter from the Night's Watch. No man is more dangerous. The deserter knows his life is forfeit if he is taken, so he will not flinch from any crime, no matter how vile.

Ned moves our attention along to why Ned had to be his own headsman, but in just a few sentences here, we've been introduced to the paradox of law that makes this system so fundamentally unjust and broken.

We're told that "no man is more dangerous" than this deserter, so we might think, for a split second, that Ned feels he must kill the man because he is dangerous. But as Ned points out, the logic is actually the reverse: "he knows his life is forfeit if he is taken, so he will not flinch from any crime" (emphasis mine). It is not the prevalence of crime that is creating the demand for law, here, it's the existence of this extreme law that is generating the crime. Not wanting to be killed, the deserter would do anything to survive.

For Ned, the epitome of law in the North, who literally acts as judge, jury, and executioner, the tautology of the reasoning is irrelevant. The man is dangerous, now, whatever the situation. Of course, for Ned it's also really about an adherence to the laws of the Night's Watch, which is an institution as old as his house. It's their death sentence to declare, his to pass.

This time reading it, though, I was struck by how Ned's words here are an inversion to Septon Meribald's broken man speech, which is too long to relay here but ends with this:

"He turns and runs, or crawls off afterward over the corpses of the slain, or steals away in the black of night, and he finds someplace to hide. All thought of home is gone by then, and kings and lords and gods mean less to him than a haunch of spoiled meat that will let him live another day, or a skin of bad wine that might drown his fear for a few hours. The broken man lives from day to day, from meal to meal, more beast than man. Lady Brienne is not wrong. In times like these, the traveler must beware of broken men, and fear them . . . but he should pity them as well."

Septon Meribald is describing Gared here, just as much as he's describing the men at war. There isn't a mention here directly of the threat of punishment for desertion, which is more extreme with the Night's Watch than elsewhere, but the reality is the same. Here, though, Meribald's approach is entirely different than Ned's—Meribald, who walks among the smallfolk and gives away what good he can offer, has a much more understanding and empathetic view of these men.

Ned has the capacity for this understanding, but his role is simply not to have kindness here. All of the goodness and kindness Ned has otherwise just doesn't matter here, because here Ned is the law, and Ned is a lord still.

With the fact that even Ned is given this treatment, we see how rigid and unjust the laws and class structures are here. Even a "good person" is not good in Ned's position.

I think this highlights the cause behind the growing smallfolk unrest throughout the books and especially in Feast/Dance. Even the good lords, the ones who can see the problems at work here, are still lords, and still hold themselves to the status quo that keeps them in power above all else. And it takes a very different perspective—like the kind Arya has gotten, for example—to see it the way Meribald does. (Though Arya has gone the opposite route away from forgiveness... that's interesting too.)

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

How to Leave Comments on Fanfiction

So, I recently made a poll to know if people might find it helpful to have a list of things they could talk about when leaving comments on fanfictions, be it on Ao3 or on here. A majority of people were interested in seeing the post so, well, I'm making it. I started writing and posting stuff online when I was a teenager, on a website where leaving constructive criticism was the norm. It's by far the place where I've gotten the most feedback and it was an incredibly formative experience for me as a young writer — and it taught me how to leave detailed comments.

Writing comments doesn't necessarily come easy. It's something that you may need to learn how to do, but the good news is that you can learn how to do it, so don't worry if you don't know what to say at first. Hopefully this list will give you some pointers on how to do that.

This is more or less the list I go through when I want to leave a detailed comment. Even if I don't have a specific idea at first, I'll go through the steps and I never come out empty-handed.

Comment etiquette:

What became apparent with the poll I made was that a lot of people worry about how they'll be perceived by the writers if they leave a comment. Now, obviously, writers aren't a monolith, but 99% of the time writers will be thrilled that you took the time to leave a comment to let them know what you enjoyed in their fic. I cannot stress this enough. We're not going to judge someone based on a positive comment they leave.

As it stands, on Tumblr and Ao3, it's seen as rude to leave negative feedback, unless the author has explicitly asked for it/agreed to it, so that's what I'll be going over here. Since quite a few writers did say on that post that they would like to get constructive comments as well, stay tuned, I'm trying to get something together to do that for authors. Other than that, you're good to go.

The main ways to let an author know your thoughts on a fic on Tumblr are:

reblogging a fic with your thoughts underneath it

reblogging with your thoughts in the tags, which is often less formal

leaving a comment as a 'reaction'

sending in an ask if they're activated on the blog (which means you can stay anonymous, if anon asks are allowed)

Reblogging means that your followers will see the post as well, and is therefore really appreciated on Tumblr.

As a note, you may find different systems work for different fics! Maybe leaving tag rambles works for you when commenting on drabbles, for example for me it's the system I use to leave comments on smut.

General advice:

Everything I'm saying in here is for people who want to be able to leave longer/more detailed comments and don't always know where to start. If, for whatever reason, you're not comfortable or you don't have time to do it at the moment, a simple "I love the fic, thank you for writing it" always goes a long way for an author.

The key thing to keep in mind if you're trying to find something else to say, I think, is to try making the comment specific to the fic you're leaving it on. It shows the writer what you took away from the fic and the fic's strong points, which is both meaningful and helpful to an author.

Comments don't have to be long to be meaningful. Don't stress about writing a ton; a one-sentence comment highlighting the fic's humor or how emotional it made you can be incredibly impactful.

With this out of the way, I'll go through things you can talk about in a comment, starting with what I think is the easiest and moving on to things that could require more thought. You don't have to do all of that. You may never use some of the things on that list. Leaving comments should not be a source of anxiety. So take what you want from the list, maybe come back to it if you need more inspiration, and don't worry too much about it :)

Favorite line(s) : pull from the fic to let the author know what your favorite line was. If you wish, you can expand on that by saying why it was your favorite: did it make you laugh? Did it make you feel something specific? Did the author nail the characterization with it? Was there some incredible metaphor? Did you find it beautiful or poetic even if you can't go into detail? Is there one line in particular at the beginning of the fic that hooked you in and made you want to keep reading?

All of that is very valuable for a writer to know. Some of my favorite comments I've gotten were a list of a reader's favorite lines from a fic with one or two sentences to explain why they liked them, so don't hesitate to do that more than once if you can!

Emotions:  if there’s one thing I know about writers, it’s that we’re thrilled when we’ve made you cry. So tell us: how did the writing make you feel? Did you laugh out loud? If you did, was it the dialogue, or the narrator? Did it make you cry? Which part? Could you relate to one of the characters? Did it make you feel seen? Did the fluff make you feel all fuzzy inside or did the angst twist knots in your stomach? This isn't an exhaustive list, and emotions are great to draw from when you're leaving a comment!

Favorite element of the writing: Is there one thing in the writing that struck you as being particularly good, or what was your favorite thing to read? Is the author a master at writing dialogue? Are their descriptions so good you could see the whole scene? Are they really good at getting in a character's head and describing their emotions? Were you hooked from the start and couldn't stop until you reached the end?

Characterization: Now, this might be less instinctive, but if you've been in a fandom for a while, you'll probably be able to identify these things fairly easily. You can tell the author if you think they've nailed one aspect of a character. Did you have a favorite character in the fic? What did you think of them? Did the author manage to capture their voice? Was the attitude spot-on? Which parts of the character, if you can name them? Were there aspects of the character you particularly enjoyed? Did the author shine a light on something you hadn't considered or on something you don't think is highlighted often enough? Is there one thing from the fic you can actually picture/hear a character doing/saying in your head?

Style: I'd argue this is the hardest part, and you shouldn't feel bad if it's not something you can really comment on. As someone whose first language isn't English, I know I struggle with it. Style can be perceived as the way the author's voice comes through in the text. It can come through in punctuation, in the way sentences are formed, in the choice of the words themselves. If, when you read, you feel something intangible that doesn't fit well in the other categories, it just might be the author's style.

Here are some things (non-exhaustive list, of course) you could say about an author's style: it can be direct, straight to the point. The author doesn't bother with ornaments. Every sentence feels impactful. Maybe the writing feels intense. You're overwhelmed by the characters and their feelings and you feel truly engulfed in the story. Maybe the style is light and airy. It's so easy to read you don't even notice you are reading. Maybe the writing is intricate. Going through it is like piecing a puzzle together, sentences are foreshadowing and metaphors reveal deep truths about the characters. Maybe the style is rich. While not always the easiest, it's a pleasure to read through it, the author has a wide vocabulary, and you might want to compare it to a well-written novel.

If you identify specific elements of that style (metaphors, interesting use of punctuation, etc.), don't hesitate to point them out and let the author know you enjoy them!

That is it for this post, hopefully it doesn't look too daunting — again, you absolutely do not need to do all that in any comment, but maybe going through this list can help you leave comments for authors you enjoy.

I like to end my comments with 'Thank you for writing and sharing this with us', so I'll tell you thank you for reading, I hope this was helpful, and please consider reblogging if you'd like to save this or if you think it could help someone else!

As a bonus, my friend @elidebrey and I (but mostly her) made a 'checklist' for commenting, to help remember all this if that's something you'd like, so use at will!

A big thank you to @elidebrey, @yoongihan and @antoniorhinothethird for their precious opinions on this ♥

[lil-shiro]

Lance Stroll Driving Style/Preference Analysis 

I’ve seen a lot of videos and posts online about different driver’s driving styles, so I wanted to do a bit of in depth analysis for Lance since 

I haven’t really seen a lot about his and 

I think his is very interesting and differs from a large portion of rest of the grid 

Disclaimer: I’m no expert or professional at this :)) It’s very much out of personal interest and looking at his growth as a driver. Be aware that styles can change depending on the car, and I could even argue that there are no true “styles”, which is why I like using the word “preferences” as well.

Introduction 

Some things that I’ve seen being discussed when it comes to driver’s preferences include:

Early vs. late breaking into turns 

Agressive vs. smooth steering 

Preference of Understeer vs. oversteer

Just to name a few but it all plays a part in how fast you exit a corner, tire degradation, and possibility of getting overtaken. 

Lance’s “Style”

On the grid, there are a lot of drivers who vary in their approach to how they take corners, such as Checo who always anticipates the best line to take, or Fernando who drives aggressively and uses a braking area to go into a corner without losing speed exiting it.

Lance differs because he’s always been a true reactive driver, meaning he relies more on instinctive feel. You can see it on his onboards, how he’s constantly adjusting the wheel and makes very erratic inputs while driving. 

This is in contrast to other drivers who we see handle the steering wheel in a smoother way that doesn’t make it look like they’re wrestling with their car. In his first year of F1 especially, he was significantly overdriving the car. 

He uses very deep braking and carries a lot of speed into the corner because of this. From the outside, it seems like he only plans up to the middle of the corner and somehow fights his way from there to the straight, but his reaction time is amazing, therefore he doesn’t completely lose the car. You can see how his approach is unorthodox.

Quali

If you’ve been following Lance for a bit, you probably know that quali has never been his strong suit, he’s definitely more of a Sunday driver. And this correlates directly to his style. 

No two laps from him are exactly the same, and since it’s not very smooth, his one-lap pace suffers. 

“Rainmaster”

Lance’s driving is far from ideal for a dry quali, but this is why he reacts very well to unforeseen events and changing conditions. On a wet track, drivers have to constantly correct themselves, but he’s already doing that normally.

After his pole position in the wet, he said, “In these conditions you can’t think about everything. You just have to focus on the next corner”. This just highlights how he literally takes it one corner at a time, acting on instinct, as opposed to forecasting what he’s gonna do in the next corner. Ironically, people have said that this instinctive driving reminds them of Gilles Villeneuve. 

Adding on, his frantic steering style is really good for heating up cold tires in the wet.

Growth

I would say that over the years, he’s definitely learned how to tone down the way he handles the car. For example, his tire management used to be very bad as his steering would just overwork them. 

But even just looking at recent races such as Brazil and Las Vegas, he manages to go on long stints, even exceeding the predicted tire life which would be impossible if he still drove as aggressively as before. His reaction time has only gotten better as well, often gaining places at the start.

However, if you look at his onboards, you can still tell his driving apart from anyone else’s, and I don’t think his way of driving will ever change. 

He has such a natural talent for feel and being able to quickly react in the most extreme conditions, but that has forced him to work on other aspects of racing such as tire management and one-lap race pace. 

One reason why it might have taken him longer to develop his racing may be his jump from F3 straight to F1. Lower series cars have less grip overall, which suits his style, as opposed to F1 cars that have good grip. So you can probably see why he struggled in the beginning.

Conclusion

As you can see, his driving is quite different, and it shows through his strengths and weaknesses. Reactive driving was more the norm back F1 from the 70’s to early 2000’s, but went away as cars became smoother. I actually think he’d be really good at rally driving…

But I dunno I guess this makes me like him even more because of all the work he’s had to put in to make his unconventional driving work in modern F1.  

Extra Onboard from 2017 His Suzuka start in the wet Onboard from LVGP

[hopecomesbacktolife]

recently read the time magazine special edition “Star Trek: inside the most influential science fiction series ever” a good portion of it is stuff a lot of fans probably already know, but there was some info in there that was still new to me, and lots of gorgeous photos that were amazing to see in print, too, so still definitely an enjoyable read! (apart from a couple instances of weirdly superiority, bro-esque writing, but that only occurred in one of the articles, thankfully)

one thing I really enjoyed about the visual aspect of the magazine though was some of the costuming visuals! For example, these crisp shots show not only the tailoring and seams but literally the construction and stitching on the TMP era uniforms 😍😍 (check out the stitching on the sleeve ranks in particular!!!)

next up, some extremely cool science things I didn’t know about and love that they exist:

this shot is excellent both for De fans (me) and also for seamstresses and costumers (also me!) because of that excellent, and rare, shot of the back of a TOS women’s uniform with seams and construction visible… positively a seamstress dream!! such a good garment structuring reference 👏🏻

also, an up close on one of Quark’s outfits that shows definitively that this outerwear jacket is, in fact, rainbowy tweed!!, a fashion statement I vote we bring back:

(it reminds me of this couch and blanket from my childhood, it was extremely 1970s and I loved it)

this little Kirk & Spock character comparison panel appeared next to an excerpt of Shatner’s writing, and to me it would fit in perfectly with those “who’s dating who” activity panels etc in magazines like seventeen, which, excellent execution, that’s such a good vibe to have considering The Premise 👏🏻

speaking of— I wish they’d mentioned slash fic, The Premise, early fanfic mail chains etc waaay more than they did (and for that matter, highlight way more just how important and vital the women Trekkies were!) but hey, at least they mentioned Spirk shippers, along with other parts of the magazine mentioning queer and nonbinary+trans rep in trek. could’ve/should’ve been more, but—

anyways! It’s still a fun magazine to read through and has lots of fun images even if you’re already familiar with the stories. (did you know there used to be an Enterprise shaped landline phone you could buy? I didn’t, and now I very much want one lol) it also highly benefits from having article writers of multiple genders, so there’s that, too. 🖖🏻

[ilk-insolence]

Leo Analysis

There’s a popular reading in the Rise fandom that Leo is the strategist of his brothers, but I’d like to propose a counter-theory that, while Leo can be strategic, his actual skillset is in deception, manipulation, and perception. In other words, Leo is good at things involving people.

(Hey, uh, this is pretty long)

In the show, Leo shows a preference to following others’ leads rather than strategize himself. In One Man’s Junk, Leo is the only brother that doesn’t actually think up a plan to find more mystic metal, instead picking sides on who’s plan he thinks is better. This is seen again in Late Fee, where Raph and Donnie being the ones who formulate a plan to return the DVD. Again, in the season 2 finale, E-Turtle Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (god that is long), Leo doesn’t come up with a plan to defeat the Shredder, he instead made everyone turn to Raph for one [2:15]. This all follows a pattern that Leo admits in Battle Nexus: New York, "And we'll do it with our special brand of teamwork: where my brothers do the work but we share equal credit" [1:10]. He’s very lazy (I mean this affectionately), and prefers to follow someone else’s lead. The final nail in the coffin is the movie, where Leo is very distinctly not the one who comes up with the plan to lock away the Kraang. While admittedly that moment is from him learning to build others up rather than try to do everything himself, Leo is clearly characterized to not tend to strategize.

However, there are episodes where he does plan. A notable example being Many Unhappy Returns, where Leo planned ahead around Big Mama to trick her into giving them the mystic collar. Another is The Hidden City Job, where Leo pretended to be a statue to get into Big Mama’s vault in her auction. There’s also Origami Tsunami, where Leo briefly took the leader position, and planned the fake paper shop to catch the paper thieves. Smaller examples include, Man Vs Sewer (two attempts of snapping Raph out of his savage state), Bug Busters (freeing his brothers), and the movie (teleporting Kraang Prime into the portal). However, one commonality in all those schemes is that they’re all deceptions (okay, except for Man Vs Sewer but I have a whole other reason for that). In Many Unhappy Returns, Leo isn’t so much as being strategic but manipulative, understanding who Big Mama is, foreseeing that she’ll shove him in the arena with his dad, and planning around that by appearing stupid. He tricked her into cutting a deal in his favor (allowing him to have a weapon in the arena [17:25]). In The Hidden City Job, Leo’s plan is basically tricking Big Mama again, pretending to be something valuable enough to belong in her vault (almost worked too well there). Origami Tsunami, Leo surmised that the bad guys would want more paper and created the fake paper store. All of those plans involved tricking the opponent based on what Leo understood of them, and they worked. Of course, planning moves around an opponent could be qualified as strategic, but these events highlighted Leo’s skill in reading and manipulating others, not as a tactician.

Again, I’m not saying Leo can’t be strategic. In Flushed But Never Forgotten, Leo’s plan to fighting Piebald is to camouflage himself with sewer sludge (gross). That’s strategic. In Bug Busters, Leo distracting the guards with an empty laundry bin to trip them into a portal he created behind them is strategic. Leo’s whole stunt with Kraang Prime and teleporting them both into the portal was sick as shit, and strategic. Hell, his whole power with the teleporting/portals requires Leo to think tactically. But, in comparison with his brothers, particularly Raph, Leo doesn’t seem that much better than them at strategizing.

What Leo is characterized to be, is manipulative. Two main examples are Air Turtle and the infamous Lair Games, where, in both, poor Donnie gets tricked by Leo to do something for Leo’s benefit. In both stunts, the emphasis was put on to Leo’s deceptive nature. In the Lair Games, Leo intentionally put his room up as a prize with the knowledge that his brothers wanted to take something important away from him, hiding the fact that that was exactly what he wanted [12:45]. In Air Turtle, he lied to Donnie’s face that he could make the last shot in order to get his own opening/spotlight [10:16, and 11:14]. Unlike with strategizing, these events are made out to be points of distinction for Leo. He’s also shown to be extremely perceptive, as @/our-happygirl500-fan user pointed out in their post of him realizing Splinter had some history with Big Mama. And being the only one to suspect Raph throwing his fight with Donnie in Sparring Partner [9:54]. This all lines up with Leo's role as a faceman, somebody who's good with people. Combined with his performance in Many Unhappy Returns, Leo is shown to be someone extremely skilled in deception, and reading others.

Tldr, I think Raph is the strategist of the group, closely followed by Donnie. And Leo’s actual strength lies in his ability with people, his perception and manipulation. He’s not a strategist, but a trickster. A lying liar who lies (I love him).

Of course, I could be extremely wrong so I would love any input or commentary, especially regarding Leo's strategist status, because I could be glaringly missing something. Thanks.

[helloalycia]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 [𝐓𝐖𝐎] — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑

one / masterlist / wattpad

summary: when you find yourself in a situation where you want to kiss Jackie, you're not sure you can make the first move. A fact made even harder when Nat is there to tease you about it.

warning/s: none really.

author's note: here's part 2! hope you like it whilst i sort through a ton of wips lol

I nodded along as Taissa was telling me about a colourful bird she'd seen earlier. We were eating some deer stew together outside the cabin, with the other girls settling down for dinner too, and it was basically a five star dinner with what we had out here.

"It was so pretty," Taissa finished. "And I swear it was following me."

I tried not to laugh. "Tai, I think you might have officially just lost it if the highlight of your day was a bird following you."

"Oh, shut up!" she said with a laugh, smacking me on the arm.

"Hey, don't take it out on my dinner!" I said lightheartedly, clutching my bowl of stew tightly with my one good hand.

"Idiot," she mumbled, but was smiling still.

"Hey, guys," Jackie said, joining us. "What did I miss?"

"Tai here was telling me about a pretty bird that wouldn't stop following her," I said with an amused smile, and it wasn't even an attempt at teasing her, but she nudged me again anyway.

"Quit it!" she warned, before giving Jackie a look. "It was so cool, Jackie."

"She's lost her mind," I told Jackie as she sat down opposite us with her dinner.

Jackie chuckled as she let Taissa tell her the story, and I stayed quiet as I heard it again. After Jackie gave her surprisingly positive input that didn't make fun of it, we all finished dinner and were about to get up together when Van called for Taissa, wanting her for something.

"It's okay, you go, I've got it," I told her, holding out my bowl. "Just put yours here."

"Thanks, Y/N," Tai said with a smile before stacking her bowl in mine, then looking to Van. "I'm coming!"

Joining Jackie, the two of us walked to the washing up area together when, suddenly, someone – I think it was Javi – ran past me and made me stumble backwards into Jackie. I bumped my broken arm in the process, making me curse as I inhaled sharply at the shooting pain up my shoulder.

"Watch where you're going!" Jackie yelled after Travis, who was running after his brother for God knew what reason.

"Come here," Jackie said softly, leading me to the steps of the porch of the cabin to sit down.

She took the bowls from my hand and set them to the side before leaning down before me, her hazel eyes searching mine worriedly.

"You okay?" she asked.

I breathed out slowly, trying to imagine the pain leaving my body, but the abruptness of the shove had hurt pretty bad. "Yeah, I think so."

She sighed, shaking her head. "They're jerks."

"It's fine," I said dismissively, knowing it was an accident.

She frowned, eyes flickering between mine, and I was forced to look away because I hated the sudden attention, my cheeks flushing at it. After what felt like forever, she grabbed the bowls from beside me and stacked them in hers.

"I've got this," she said, squeezing my knee comfortingly before standing up.

When she walked away, I let out a quiet breath of relief, not realising how nervous I'd been. So maybe this crush thing wasn't so fun anymore.

—

With crushing on Jackie meant wondering if she even liked me back, a question I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer to. Sometimes I'd feel like she did, whether it be her lingering glances or ability to make me flustered, but then I'd second guess it as her personality and feel stupid for even considering otherwise.

For example, one time I was playing cards with Coach Scott when the blonde found me, asking to join in. So, we let her and played a few rounds of Go Fish before coach's leg was hurting and he left to take a nap.

"You wanna play acorn soccer?" Jackie asked with a playful glint in her eye.

I chuckled at the immediacy of her question. "Sure, why not?"

As we packed the cards away and left them on the side, I glanced around, noticing a few of the other girls were free.

"Should we ask the others?" I asked Jackie before we headed off.

She pretended to consider it. "We could... or we could save the hassle and just stick to us two?"

"Jackie!" I scolded lightheartedly.

"What?" she played along, flashing me a smile. "Someone's just gonna complain and then they'll spoil the fun. I like when it's just us."

I sighed, but gave her a small smile. "Fine. Let's go."

She grinned and led the way, and I had no choice but to follow her. It warmed my heart to know she enjoyed our time together too, but it was also one of those moments where I couldn't tell if I was seeing more into it than there was.

Luckily for me, I received an unbiased opinion on the matter without even asking for it. After Jackie and I played some acorn soccer together, we returned to the cabin before dinner and Jackie left to go catch up with Shauna. As I hung around to help with the fire, Nat found me.

"Hey," I greeted her with a smile. "You just come back from hunting?"

"Uh-huh," she said, before studying me curiously. "I have a question for you, Y/L/N."

Intrigued, I nodded encouragingly. "Shoot."

She knitted her eyebrows together with curiosity. "Since when did you and Jackie become so friendly?"

I shrugged, tossing some wood into the fire.

"Ever since she's been hanging out with you, she's been... nicer," she decided. "What d'you do?"

I gave her a disapproving look. "She was never mean, Nat, c'mon."

Nat weighed it up. "I guess, but sometimes she could be a real b–"

"Nat!" I smacked her arm gently, making her laugh.

"Look, all I'm saying is that girl is different," she said, motioning to the blonde who was chatting with Shauna, thankfully not in earshot of us. "And she definitely likes something about you."

"What can I say? I'm pretty likeable," I said jokingly.

She smirked knowingly. "Not like that, Y/N."

I lost my smile as she left me to it, wondering if she was right. I'd always thought it, but maybe if Nat was seeing it too then I wasn't going insane?

—

A few days later, I was helping Mari to hang some wet clothes on the washing line we'd strung up when something caught my attention.

"And where've you been?" Van asked someone, and I wouldn't have been intrigued if it weren't for the nonchalant response.

"Nowhere," Jackie replied, clearing her throat.

Curious, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Jackie returning to the cabin from somewhere or the other. The strange bit was seeing her clothes a little dirty, earth staining her denim shorts and white shirt. It was very unlike her to be so unkempt and dishevelled, from the mess of her hair to the mud on her nails. As the only one of us who seemed to actually still care how she looked, this was very out of the ordinary.

"Seriously?" I asked, reading Van's thoughts.

Jackie shrugged, wiping her hands on her shorts before heading around back, no doubt to wash off. I exchanged confused looks with Van before resuming with my job. Weird.

—

Struggling to sleep was something that hadn't really gotten better as time went on. You'd think it would considering it had been a month since we'd crashed here, but it was quite literally a hit and miss to whether I could actually fall asleep or not. And even then, at most, I'd get around five hours.

Tonight wasn't any different, and I was getting tired of the tossing and turning and forcing my eyes closed, so I accepted defeat and got up from my spot to sit in front of the fire. It was getting a little chillier in the air, the nights a little colder, and I feared what would happen when summer was over. But I tried not to overthink it right now, instead watching the wood burn a hot orange, embers crumbling off in the fireplace.

I sat there, hoping I'd succumb to fatigue soon enough, and then ten minutes passed and I heard movement from behind me.

"What are you doing?" It was Jackie, and she was yawning as she took a seat beside me, blanket hugging her.

Feeling bad, I said, "You don't need to–"

"Are you in pain?" she asked, waking up some more as she studied my expression.

"No," I breathed out, to which she relaxed. "Just couldn't sleep. Did I wake you?"

Another yawn, this time she tried to stifle it, and she shook her head. I wasn't stupid though, a frown on my lips.

"You can go back to sleep," I reassured her, in case she felt any moral obligation to be here.

Sly smile on her lips, she tilted her head to look at me. "Eager to get rid of me?"

I rolled my eyes, a smile tugging at my lips, and she chuckled quietly as to not wake anyone.

She nudged me with her shoulder, taking on a serious approach. "What's up?"

I stared back at the fire, finding it easier to tell the truth when I wasn't looking at her. "Just a lot on my mind."

"Like?"

Sighing quietly, I said, "This. My arm. Being rescued. It's been a month, Jackie."

She fell quiet, exhaling softly. "I know."

I wasn't sure why, but hearing the defeat in her voice only confirmed my fears – that we might be stuck here forever. Frowning, I looked down at my arm, remembering the day we crashed. The day everything broke down. The last day of our old life, but the first of our new one. How depressing.

"I had a dream about a cheeseburger last night," Jackie suddenly spoke, surprising me at the randomness of her comment.

"What?"

"Yeah," she continued like it was normal, nodding, "it was fresh from the grill, had cold lettuce, pickles, onions, tomatoes, that really good burger sauce with the bits of pickle in–"

"Jackie," I stopped her.

She looked to me, confused and almost offended that I'd interrupted. "What?"

Bizarre, that's what she was, and it made me laugh. Worried I'd woken up the others, I looked around, thankful that everybody was still fast asleep, and looked back to Jackie with a stifled smile.

"What are you going on about?" I asked her in a low voice.

The fire was casting shadows across her face, making the glimmer of gold in her hazel eyes shimmer as she spoke. "There were fries too. Hot and crispy and perfectly salted."

"Thanks," I said sarcastically, though smiling. "Now you've just made me hungry."

She laughed quietly, looking to the fire with approval. "Better than sad."

My smile didn't disappear as I admired her profile, the curve of her jaw, the soft smile imprinted on her face, her hair that was still messy from being asleep. I could have watched her forever, sat there like that, but then I noticed something stuck in her hair. A remnant of a leaf or something.

"You've got something in your hair," I said in a hushed voice, and she lifted a brow as she glanced at me.

"Huh?"

Figuring it was easier to get it out myself, I leaned forward and used my fingers to gently remove the leaf from behind her ear. She stayed still as I did, then I flicked it in the fire before looking back to her, realising she was watching me closely. It could have been the quiet of the night, the crackling of the fire, the proximity between us, but I was amazed by her beauty, eyes taking in her whole expression.

I was close enough to make out the freckles dusting her nose, her earth-coloured eyes which were focused on mine, even the pinkness of her lips as she licked them subconsciously, making my heart race in my chest. It would have been so easy to lean forward, to close the gap and kiss her, but I was terrified. What if Nat was wrong?

What if she was right?

No, I wasn't bold enough to make the first move. If Jackie wanted this – which, the longer she didn't move away from me made me feel like she did – she'd have to do it. Like the wimp I was, I pulled back, looking away. She sighed as she looked back to the fire, and if I couldn't sleep before, I definitely couldn't now.

"Thanks for staying up with me," I said, "but you should sleep."

"So should you," she retorted.

"I promise, I'll try," I said, before standing up and returning to my bed.

She did the same, the two of us tucking ourselves in a few beds over from one another. My heart was hammering away as I laid down, thoughts of Jackie infiltrating my head.

"Goodnight," she whispered.

I swallowed thickly. "Goodnight."

—

If wanting to kiss Jackie Taylor one time wasn't bad enough, having Nat tease me was even worse. She never outright said anything to me since telling me what she thought that one time, but she was certainly enjoying watching me squirm. Especially one evening, when we were all settled around the campfire.

I had my blanket wrapped around me as I sat close to the fire, appreciating the warmth. It wasn't super cold out tonight, but it was comforting nonetheless. Nat was sat on my right, a space between us, and then Jackie appeared, glancing down at me with a smile.

"This seat taken?" she asked.

Before I could even answer, Nat glanced at me with a stifled smirk, and I knew what she was thinking which made me embarrassed all over again.

Trying to ignore Nat, I answered Jackie, "No, go for it."

She grinned and sat in the space between us, and I gave her the other side of my blanket which she wrapped around her shoulders. It wasn't huge though, and she was forced to sit a little closer, close enough for me to make out the smell of the perfume she still spritzed on every morning for a sense of normalcy. It was distracting, as was the feeling of her arm and leg pressed up to mine, and I willed myself to snap out of it.

Suddenly, some of the girls were cheering on the other side of the fire, and then I tuned in when I realised they'd agreed to play a game of truth or dare. Nothing like a typical dumb party game to get everyone's minds off being stranded in the wilderness, right?

Admittedly, it was a little funny going around the circle and watching the stupid dares involving the girls drinking moonshine and flashing themselves, or listening to the amusing truths about someone stealing money from their parents or lying on school tests. For a moment, it was like we really were just at a dumb party.

Then it was my turn to go and Mari asked me if I wanted to pick truth or dare.

"Hmm," I thought aloud, being sure to choose wisely. "I guess I pick dare. I mean, how bad can it be when I only have one working arm?"

"Wanna bet?" Van threatened playfully, a devilish smile on her face which made all the other girls laugh.

Smiling with amusement, I didn't doubt her ability to make a fool of me, broken arm or not. "Damn, truth it is."

Everybody fell quiet as they thought of something to ask, and I wasn't worried in the slightest until Lottie decided to speak.

"This is such a go-to, I'm surprised it hasn't been asked," she said with a chuckle, before looking at me. "Do you have a crush right now? Maybe a long lost love back home?"

My smile was still on my lips, though wanting to disappear as I blinked and became acutely aware of everyone's eyes on me, especially the blonde beside me who was very much the root of my crush.

"Nope," I said as convincingly as I could, making everyone groan at my boring answer.

I truly believed I'd gotten away with it until I looked to Jackie beside me as she was next, but instead caught sight of Nat's mischievous grin beside her. Swallowing thickly, I pretended she wasn't there and looked back to Jackie who was already considering her answer as Mari asked the question.

"Truth," she chose excitedly.

"Oh, I've got a good one," Van said eagerly, before fixing Jackie with a curious look. "What's the most disgusting thing you've done since being here?"

A few girls snickered, and I hid a smile as I awaited Jackie's answer. Everybody knew Jackie acted like a princess, so this must've been good.

Jackie thought about it for a moment, looking up in consideration, before she scrunched her nose with disgust. "Okay, nobody kill me," she disclaimed, piquing everyone's interest, "but I accidentally used someone else's toothbrush one time."

Almost instantly, everybody began to talk over one another, demanding to know whose toothbrush she'd used, but Jackie wasn't having it.

"I don't know whose brush it was!" she exclaimed, embarrassed and avoiding everyone's eyes. "I answered your truth and there's no follow up questions. Also, you should really keep your things out of the communal areas. Just saying."

I suppressed the urge to laugh as a few girls scoffed with disbelief. Jackie glanced at me, both embarrassed and amused, a smile on her lips.

"Okay, Nat, you're up next," Mari moved on. "Truth or dare?"

Nat leaned back on her hands as she answered nonchalantly. "Truth."

"I've got a good one," Shauna said, entertained smile aimed at Nat. "Who do you think has lied tonight?"

Everybody began to 'ooh' at her question, knowing it would be the start of some drama which we had so little of out here. I didn't consider it much, until Nat answered without missing a beat.

"Y/N."

I widened my eyes at her response, looking past Jackie and to a smirking Nat. Everybody was watching the two of us like a tennis match.

"What? Why?" I asked Nat calmly, not wanting to betray anything.

Nat only shrugged indifferently. "Dunno. It just can't be true that you don't have a crush."

I kept my cool as I said, "Well, it is."

"Maybe," Nat said, "but I don't believe it."

"Well, you're wrong," I said a little too quickly.

She laughed, unbothered by my defensiveness. "Okay. It's just my opinion."

My cheeks were flaming as I looked to the fire with embarrassment.

"Doesn't matter anyway," Nat added as an afterthought, enjoying tormenting me. "There'd be no way of you letting your crush know. It's not like they're here, right?"

I hoped Jackie couldn't feel the heat exuding from my skin as I sat there silently, distracting myself with my bottle of water and unable to respond to Nat's teasing. Thankfully, the subject was changed with the next person's turn, and I reminded myself to kill Nat later. She was enjoying this a little too much.

Once we'd gone around the circle once, it was getting late and a little nippy outside, so a few girls began to leave. Nat was one of them, winking at me playfully as she walked past, and just as I rolled my eyes, Jackie looked to me with confusion.

"What was that about?"

"Just Nat being Nat," I mumbled.

Unconvinced, she continued to stare at me with furrowed brows. "What was she doing earlier? Why did she say you were lying?"

"What?" I said, hoping to buy some time as I thought of a reason, because I definitely didn't expect her to say anything about it. "Oh, nothing. She was just trying to be funny."

Jackie licked her lips before pursing them. I thought she'd drop it, but then she narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously.

"Is it Nat? Your supposed crush?"

I almost choked on my spit. "What?"

Her expression softened. "Is that why she was teasing you? Because you like her?"

Shaking my head instantly, I said, "No, no. That's literally not it at all. If anything, Nat is a pain in my arse."

Jackie hummed quietly, looking back at the fire which was on its way to burning out. I exhaled with relief, finding it ironic that she thought it was Nat who I liked. Oh, how wrong she was.

"So, whose toothbrush was it?" I asked, changing the subject, knowing she was lying earlier.

She paused. "Misty's."

I snorted with amusement. "Yeah, she would've killed you if she found out."

Jackie smiled in agreement, hiding her laugh. I couldn't seem to look away, lost in her stunning profile, lit up by the fire. It was deja vu. Her blonde hair appeared golden, her eyes a kaleidoscope of green and brown, and her lips... they were pink and soft and I wanted to kiss her again, just like last time.

She suddenly turned to look at me, soft smile gracing her lips, and I was too warm in this blanket, our bodies so close that I wouldn't be surprised if she could feel the heat from my skin, a consequence of how nervous she was making me with a simple glance. All I had to do was lean in, but I couldn't.

"I think you're lying too," she muttered with amusement.

Dumbfounded, I asked, "What?"

She clarified, "About not having a crush."

I raised my eyebrows, making her chuckle quietly before patting my leg.

"C'mon, it's cold," she said, before standing up and leaving me with me the blanket, probably assuming I would follow her.

But I was too surprised at what she'd said. That was a hint, right? She knew? She knew I liked her?

Should I have kissed her?

—

I wet some scrap material in the lake, my only source for something cold in the wilderness, and carefully wrapped my broken but healing arm in it. It acted as a terrible ice pack, but I sighed with relief at the cool feeling.

It had been a month and a half since we'd been stranded, a month and a half since my arm broke. I couldn't be sure it was healing correctly, since it still hurt when I moved it and looked a little weird, but the swelling was gone and I didn't need to rely so much on the limited medication we had.

Still, I couldn't do everything I wanted to and I really missed having two working arms. Even now, as I looked out at the lake and saw some of the others swimming in the water, I was jealous. God, I was so bored. Even a swim would be nice, but I physically couldn't.

Instead, I took a spot by the shore and laid on my back, using my arm to shield the sun from my eyes and have a little nap. I didn't completely doze off, just enough to tune out my surroundings for a little while, but then I felt a shoe gently kick at my leg.

"Huh? What?" I asked tiredly, lowering my arm.

Jackie was stood above me, eager smile on her face. I hated the way the butterflies began to swirl in my stomach, all because the sun crafted her silhouette so perfectly. Stupid. Crush.

"I've got a surprise for you," she said.

I sat upright, rubbing my eye. "What does that even mean?"

"Come find out," she exclaimed, before grabbing my hand without warning and pulling me up.

"Jackie–"

"Close your eyes," she instructed with a suppressed grin.

I gave her a disapproving look. "Seriously?"

She shook my arm encouragingly. "C'mon! You're gonna love it. I hope."

Very curious and also still a little out of it from my nap, I decided to entertain her and closed my eyes. She didn't let go of my hand as she dragged me somewhere carefully. I wasn't sure where at first, but then the ground was full of grass and sticks, and leaves were skimming my bare arms the further she led me, and I guessed we were back in the woods.

"Okay, we're here," she said suddenly, stopping abruptly. "Open."

I sighed, opening my eyes and blinking a few times. We were at the usual spot we played acorn soccer in, and I didn't know what the surprise was, but then I saw it. It was some sort of goal or net made of sticks twisted together in an awkwardly shaped dome, about the height of my knee and the width of my outstretched arms.

"What is this?" I asked with an amazed smile, running forward to study it closely.

"You gotta have a target, right?"

I laughed. "This is sick, Jackie!"

She chuckled from behind me. "I'm glad you like it."

"Wait," I realised, turning around to look at her. "Is this what you've been doing?"

It explained why she would sometimes return to the cabin looking a little messy, but I never expected her to be building this. DIY wasn't really her thing.

"Why? You been keeping tabs?" she teased, crossing her arms.

I sighed softly, thinking back to the first time I'd said that to her. Funnily enough, in this very spot.

"You're such an idiot," I said, rolling my eyes playfully, before moving forward to hug her.

She returned it before asking, "Wanna test it out?"

I stared at her with an obvious look. "Duh!"

She grinned and we returned to our usual positions for acorn soccer, though this time we had an actual 'net' and it raised the stakes in the best way possible. I still couldn't believe she'd done this for me.

As I dribbled the acorn 'ball', throwing in some fancy footwork just to annoy Jackie, she put her foot out and I tripped over it, hitting the ground instantly. It didn't hurt, though was definitely surprising, but I thought it would be funny to make Jackie feel bad anyway.

"Ow!" I shouted, rolling onto my back and pretending to clutch my broken arm.

Her expression transformed into one of concern as she gasped. "Oh, shit, are you okay?! I didn't mean to–"

I pushed my foot out slightly before she could finish, easily knocking her forward onto the ground, landing right next to me with a thud. Laughter spilled from my mouth almost instantly, only increasing when she lifted her head to playfully glare at me, a dirt mark on her cheek.

"You asked for it," I said knowingly, before sitting upright.

I offered her my hand as she sat up too, legs intertwined with mine as she wiped her hands onto her shorts.

"Did I actually hurt you?" she asked, tilting her head towards me with a smile.

"You did not," I assured her with amusement, making her sigh with defeat.

"Not funny," she pointed out, which was hard to believe when her eyes were sparkling with anything but seriousness.

I snickered, before my eyes fell to the dirt mark on her cheek. "You've got a little something..."

Motioning to my cheek, she furrowed her brows and lifted her hand to her own to try and get it, but she missed.

"What?"

"Just right–"

"Here?"

I scoffed lightheartedly before using my thumb to get rid of it for her, wiping it away in a few swipes. I had to cup her jaw as I did, not even realising what I was doing until she exhaled softly and her breath dusted my lips. I paused, eyes flickering to hers, and that feeling came back, along with the nerves that always accompanied them. She looked between my eyes before hers fell to my lips, and mine did the same. I wanted to lean in, so so badly, but as usual, my body became paralysed with fear. Why was this so hard?

Like the wimp I was, I was about to let go of her jaw and pull away, ready to pretend this never happened. But she surprised me when she spoke up.

"Just do it."

I blinked, surprised, briefly meeting her half-lidded gaze, and that was all the confirmation I needed. Pushing away my fears, I finally leaned in, kissing her. She sighed into my mouth, moving her hand to the back of my neck to pull me even closer, and I had goosebumps all over at the feeling of her lips on mine. It was slow, long-awaited and wonderful, and I regretted not making a move sooner.

When we pulled apart, my heart was racing and I opened my eyes, only to be submerged in pools of hazel.

"Getting a kiss from you is like pulling teeth, I swear," she murmured, lips curving into a satisfied smile.

Flushing with embarrassment, I cleared my throat and let go of her. "Nothing stopped you from making the first move, y'know."

"And do all the work?" she asked rhetorically. "I left so many hints. I thought you would've taken them."

"I wasn't sure," I admitted, lips still tingling. She rolled her eyes teasingly, but I continued, "I couldn't be sure. Not with you. Not for me."

"You still sound doubtful," she noticed, smile fading a little.

I wasn't sure what to say because a small part of me still was. Accepting that Jackie Taylor had wanted me to kiss her was something I wasn't sure I'd ever get used to.

Suddenly, she kissed me again, brief but enough to have me second guessing my own name. When she pulled away, a knowing smile was on her lips.

"How about now?" she asked, and all I could do was swallow hard with warm cheeks.

She laughed before helping me up off the ground. We dusted ourselves off and then she held out her hand towards me.

"Let's head back," she said, and I smiled as I accepted her hand.

We walked back to the cabin, me personally feeling like I was on cloud nine because the girl I liked actually liked me back.

"So, the thing with Nat," Jackie brought up as we headed back. "The crush and the lying thing. That was about me?"

Oh, God, why was everything so embarrassing?

"Yes," I admitted reluctantly. "She was teasing me because she knew I wouldn't make a move."

This made Jackie chuckle. "She wasn't wrong."

I shot her a sideways glance. "Thanks for the reminder."

"Oh, c'mon," she said between laughter, "don't pout."

I rolled my eyes lightheartedly. "It's fine, don't worry. Let's just all laugh at Y/N because she couldn't kiss the girl, ha, ha, ha."

Jackie kept laughing, though I knew it wasn't out of spite. Besides, at least I'd finally made a move. That was all that mattered.

At least, it did for the next two minutes until we reached the cabin and I saw Nat sat on the steps, taking note of the two of us holding hands.

"And here we go," I whined to myself.

Jackie's smile, still on her face from the amusement of my inability to make the first move, faded as she glanced between Nat and I.

"Hey, Nat!" she called to the blonde, confusing me and earning her attention.

As soon as Nat looked our way properly, Jackie let go of my hand and kissed me, cupping my face between her hands  and taking her time. I was so surprised when she pulled away, as was Nat, not expecting her to be so outright with it.

"What–"

"Anything to add?" Jackie cut me off, instead looking to Nat with a quirked brow that dared her to tease me.

Nat shook her head. "Not at all. Huh."

Satisfied, Jackie smiled sweetly and I was sure my face was hot with embarrassment. I probably should've seen that coming, but also, how could I have?

"Good job," Nat said to me as she walked past us, impressed smile on her lips.

I blinked, before looking to Jackie. "Erm, thanks?"

"Hey, she may have been right, but only I get to tease you about it," she said in a way that sounded like she was joking but I knew she wasn't.

I breathed out, small smile on my face. I may have been the shy one, but at least I had Jackie to rely on. It's not like I'd ever have to make the first move again anyway. The hard part was over.

[onlycosmere]

REGARDING AUDIBLE

Brandon Sanderson: Hey, all. Brandon here, with what I consider to be some pretty exciting news. Many of you may remember when I wrote last year about my worries regarding audiobook royalties (particularly for independent authors). You can read it HERE, but some of the main bullet points are as follows:

I seriously worried about the opacity of reporting to authors about audio sales. We didn’t know what a sale meant, how much of an Audible credit was given to authors when a book sold via one, and how royalties were being accounted.

I felt that the industry was taking advantage of authors because of their lack of powerful corporate interests to advocate for them. While video game creators and musicians get 70–80% (88%, in fact, on two major platforms) of a sale of their products in a digital platform, Audible was paying as low as 25%–with the high end being instead 40%.

I felt I could have gotten a better deal for myself, but the entire state of this industry was seriously concerning to me. So, I made the difficult decision NOT to release the four Secret Projects on Audible, costing me a large number of sales, to instead try to bolster healthy competition in the space, highlighting some of the smaller Audible competitors.

I hoped this wake-up call would prompt change. I didn’t refuse to put my books on Audible out of retribution or to declare war; I did it because I wanted to shine as powerful a light as I knew how on a system that highly favored the audio distributors over the authors. I was convinced that the people at Audible really did love books and writers, and that with the right stand taken, I could encourage them toward positive change.

I’m happy to say that this stand has borne some fruit. I’ve spent this last year in contact with Audible and other audio distributors, and have pushed carefully–but forcefully–for them to step up. A few weeks ago, three key officers high in Audible’s structure flew to Dragonsteel offices and presented for us a new royalty structure they intend to offer to independent writers and smaller publishers.

This new structure doesn’t give everything I’ve wanted, and there is still work to do, but it is encouraging. They showed me new minimum royalty rates for authors–and they are, as per my suggestions, improved over the previous ones. Moreover, this structure will move to a system like I have requested: a system that pays more predictably on each credit spent, and that is more transparent for authors. Audible will be paying royalties monthly, instead of quarterly, and will provide a spreadsheet that better shows how they split up the money received with their authors.

This part looked really good to me, as I understand their decisions. I tried poking holes in the system, looking for ways it could be exploited, and found each issue I raised had already been considered. This doesn’t mean it’s going to be perfect, and people smarter than me might still find problems that I didn’t. However, I think everyone is going to agree the new system IS better. We will better be able to track, for example, how Audible is dividing money between books purchased with a credit and books listened to as part of their Audible Plus program.

It’s all very technical, but I have to say I’m impressed with the effort they have made. The people there listened to my complaints, and have tried to improve. I’m not at liberty to explain in its entirety their new structure right now, as they’re still tweaking it, but they did say I could announce its existence–and that I could promise new, improved royalties are on the horizon.

Now, before we go too far, I do anticipate a few continuing issues with the final product. I want to manage expectations by talking about those below.

What I’ve seen doesn’t yet bring us to the 70% royalty I think is fair, and which other, similar industries get.

Audible continues to reserve the best royalties for those authors who are exclusive to their platform, which I consider bad for consumers, as it stifles competition. In the new structure, both exclusive and non-exclusive authors will see an increase, but the gap is staying about the same.

Authors continue to have very little (basically no) control over pricing. Whatever the “cover price” of books is largely doesn’t matter–books actually sell for the price of a credit in an Audible subscription. Authors can never raise prices alongside inflation. An Audible credit costs the same as it did almost two decades ago–with no incentive for Audible to raise it, lest it lose customers to other services willing to loss-lead to draw customers over.

These are things I’d love to see change. However, this deal IS a step forward, and IS an attempt to meet me partway. Indeed, even incremental changes can mean a lot. When I was new in this business, my agent spent months arguing for a two-percent change in one of my print royalties–because every little bit helps. These improvements are going to be larger than two-percent increases.

Because of this, I will be bringing the Secret Projects to Audible very soon. I consider Audible to again be a positive force for the industry, and I have decided to shake hands with them. Audible has promised to release their new royalty system for all authors sometime in 2024, though I should be testing it in the next month or so.

And…if you’ll allow me a moment, I’d like to say that this feels good. It isn’t what I wanted, but I’d begun to think that nothing would ever change–that even my voice, loud though it can be, wouldn’t be enough. Yet change IS possible.

I know that there are plenty of people out there who are tired of hearing about me and my works (I’m sorry–I do have quite the group of evangelists, and we can be an enthusiastic lot). However, for better or for worse, I am one of the bestselling authors in the world. Historically, one of the best ways to change things in my industry is for authors like myself to force it to happen.

Feeling this responsibility, when I was first talking to Audible about these issues in 2022, I made it very clear that I wasn’t just seeking some quiet deal that gave me an individual advantage. I wanted to see positive change for all authors. And while I don’t think I can take sole credit, I do feel like my efforts this year have had a significantly positive effect. Soon every independent author who publishes on Audible (and maybe, eventually, traditionally published authors with the huge publishers–depending on what New York decides) will be getting a larger cut of the profit, with more transparency about how that cut is allocated.

So, for those who have been waiting until Audible had the Secret Projects, you’ll get your chance soon. I hope you’ll support them, and support Audible for their decisions. And thank you to all of you who shared the news about my problems with the audio industry last year; I believe that pressure really did help. This is a victory for all of us, because happier authors able to make a better living (particularly those authors who are struggling in the midlist trenches) make for a more vibrant world for everyone.

[grogumaximus]

As a performance engineer, he is the man who keeps an eye on all the data in a complex world like Formula 1 and leaves no stone unturned to see how to get even more speed out of the RB20. “For example, I can see how the tires behave individually, how high the temperature of the brakes is and how the hybrid systems of the engine behave,” says Hart in the Red Bull hospitality area.

Together with Lambiase, Michael Manning and David Mart, he is part of the regular group of engineers around world champion Verstappen.

“And GP is the one who talks to Max during sessions, so he has to filter all our information and assess what he finds relevant to pass on to Max. And then as a driver he now has an enormous library of experience. Max is ultimately the best sensor. He senses what he is up against and can make it very clear whether he wants to try something different and what exactly. He is very direct and knows what he wants. There is no room for politics or bullshit.”

In order to be able to empathize with Lambiase's work, Hart occasionally takes his position as race engineer, as was the case on Friday during both training sessions in Imola. Hart explains how a weekend is broadly divided.

“First we have to make sure that the car behaves as we expected. Then we look at how we can get more out of the speed over one lap. Where do we lose time in the bends, does Max feel limited somewhere at the beginning or at the end of such a bend? We then look at the longer runs and how we can protect ourselves against possible dangers.”

With the help of his engineer, a driver can adjust the necessary things on his steering wheel, for example when it comes to the brake balance or the differential. As far as Verstappen and Red Bull are concerned, the Azerbaijan Grand Prix last year is a good example of this. For Verstappen, that race in Baku was the turning point in the season.

“In those first four races, Checo (teammate Sergio Pérez, ed.) and Max were close together. But in terms of setup and the tools he uses, Max has gone in a completely different direction since that race in Baku. He has twelve so-called switch positions that he can use. He tested many of them in Baku, while normally you use two or three in a weekend. Max learned a lot then, and so did we."

Since that race in Baku, more than a year ago, Verstappen has not won only three races. While the Dutchman himself is almost never completely satisfied with how a race weekend is going, this also appears to apply to his engineers.

“Coincidentally, we were still talking about it together on Thursday evening. We as engineers are a bit like the goalkeepers in football. It's only when we make a big mistake that it becomes noticeable. We have to keep pushing to see if we can improve anything in areas where we are not yet performing optimally. And even if we are faster than the rest in every corner, we are still not satisfied and we look at where we have left something behind. Everything worked great in China, and then in Miami with the same car we didn't have the speed. And then afterwards you can understand so well why that is, here in Imola there is a completely different asphalt, the conditions are different and the tire compounds are also different.”

Given the immense pressure and expectations, Hart considers Verstappen's victory in 2021 in front of his own audience in Zandvoort as his personal highlight. The Englishman started working as Alex Albon's performance engineer in 2020 before being transferred to Verstappen the following year.

“With Alex we mainly looked at how we could close the gap with Max with the same material. With Max you look less at the other side of the garage. His experience, not only in Formula 1 but also with other cars, helps us. Actually, after a racing weekend I am also a kind of translator. In the debrief Max tells us what his limitations were. Drivers speak their own language. We then look at his words with the people in the factory in combination with the collected data.”

And yes, Verstappen may be the most important sensor, but he also sometimes has to rely on the information from his engineers on the pit wall and in the garage. They now have the complete overview.

“Especially in races where we play the longer game ,” says Hart. “We can see what the lap times of the other drivers are and how the different tires are worn. For example, if we say that Max needs to change something on his handlebars, he may well think: the balance is now just right. But then we have to prepare for later in the race. If you wait until the front tires are on, you will be too late. We always have to think one step ahead, otherwise you go too slowly.”

[cosmicjoke]

Levi's Gratitude as Proof of His Innate Goodness

I was talking about this on another post with someone, but it's something important that I wanted to bring up on my own blog, too, as a separate thing.

I think Levi’s memory of his mother is vague, at best. I brought this up in my analysis post of "Bad Boy" as well.

When recalling his memory of Kuchel, Levi talks about how he thought, against the filth and rotten air of the Underground, his mother's "elegant posture" stood out all the more.

He says, specifically, "I was born in the Underground, and have only ever seen things that are Underground. So I thought... It's hopelessly dirty here. Even the air here is rotten. The more I realize this, the more I feel that mother's posture is so elegant."

And we see a panel showing only a partial image of Kuchel's face. We never see a fully realized image of her.

Levi then says on the next page, “That’s all I remember clearly”, referring to her elegance.

This story is told entirely from Levi's perspective, so I think it's plain from us never getting a full picture of Kuchel's face, and from what Levi says about her elegance being the only thing he "remembers clearly", that he doesn't have a solid or vivid recollection of her.

I think he was probably too young when she died to have any clear or solid memory of her. He likely doesn't remember what she actually looked like at all, really. All he’s left with, then, is the impression of her elegance against the backdrop of filth and rottenness he was surrounded by growing up. And I think he probably only remembers that elegance because of how sharply it contrasted with everything else in his life. That’s also why we see him fixate on it so much.

And it serves to truly highlight just how deprived Levi was of anything good in his life, that something so vague and even intangible became so meaningful to him, almost to the point of obsession.

He literally had no other anchor point of positivity, no experience or memory of anything good, than this hazy and uncertain impression of his mother’s beauty. That truly is heartbreaking, and it only serves to highlight further how extraordinary it is that Levi turned out to be such a good man.

Because the fact that Levi is so grateful for even that single moment of fleeting good in his life, a moment he barely even remembers, shows his own, innate goodness and the extraordinary strength of his character.

Most people would be bitter and resentful at having so little, (take, for example, Zeke), and even want to lash out at the world by making others suffer in the same ways they did, or take from others to fill the void of their own deprivation, but Levi instead cherished this one, good thing he had, and tried so hard to hold onto it, and preserve it. He appreciated it endlessly, and never lost that appreciation, no matter how bad his life got, no matter how horrible everything else was, how bleak and worthless his existence must have seemed, or how profound his loneliness.

I think that's a testament to Levi's innate goodness, to his innate kindness, that he holds such gratitude for something so small, especially in the face of the deluge of misery that was the rest of his life, and how he tries in turn to give people more than he had, to actively prevent them from suffering in the same ways he did, even to the point of sacrificing his own comfort for others, as in the case of him giving Petra's badge to Dieter, or rescuing Ramzi from that crowd in Marley, letting the kid have his own spending money, or holding that dying soldier's hand, even as Levi couldn't stand the feel of blood on his skin, just to comfort him in his last moments. I think we see Levi's gratitude for even the smallest kindnesses reflected, also, in the way he always goes out of his way to express his gratitude to others, always thanking his comrades for their efforts, always making sure to let them know that their efforts matter and are important. Like when he thanks Nifa for riding all night to bring him Erwin's instructions, or when he thanks Eren for saving them all in the underground cavern beneath Rod Reiss' estate, and tells Eren that it's thanks to him they can retake Wall Maria. Or when he tells Erwin that it isn't him he should be thanking for helping to capture the Female Titan, but all the soldiers who died in the effort.

It takes an extraordinary strength of character not to let the emotional devastation of his upbringing and life overwhelm him, and to still have the strength and desire to want to help others, when I'm certain there were times when Levi just wanted to lay down and die. Or when he wanted to hide away and protect himself from any more hurt or loss. That's why I always talk about how selfless Levi is. Even when he knows it's going to bring him more pain, he still does all he can to try and help others. He's never able to stay detached from people, or remain unaffected by the pain or loss of others, even as he tries to keep his distance, because he just cares too much, he has too much compassion and empathy in his heart, and too much generosity, even for people he doesn't really know.

I just think it's extraordinary how grateful Levi is for something that, for so many, would seem so insignificant and insubstantial, especially if they had lived a life as hard as Levi's own, or had experienced even half as much deprivation and despair as he had. I think it's proof of the fact that Levi was born with a good and generous heart. That he's an innately good person.

[aiura-stan]

I love the idea that Teruhashi might be thinking this. (I know she isn’t Teruhashi, but still.) It’s so outright aggressive and mean, instead of her more low key “Saiki should be obsessed with me!” thoughts as in canon proper, lol.

Also notable that the first mention of Saiki being markedly different from other people is here: “If a normal person heard them he would undoubtedly have a mental breakdown after three seconds.” Maybe it’s true, probably an exaggeration on Saiki’s part, but it definitely highlights that what he deals with, mentally, is on another level, and he is able to deal with it.

LMAO. this one made me laugh… it’s like yikyak but worse!! like yikyak but including things people wouldn’t even say on there, read out loud… phewww.

Saiki says his powers are “in the wrong” rather than peoples’ thoughts. However, the way he words the second part about how you can’t dress up what’s on the inside strikes me as odd. I was trying to think of the reasoning behind this sort of sentiment that Saiki expresses here, because it repeats later in the manga proper. And I think, it boils down to this incorrect assumption he has, that people’s thoughts are their true feelings. My guess on where comes from is probably either Kuniharu or Kuusuke, who both express a lot of resentment for him. In each of their cases, that really is how they feel, and they make no effort to change it, and there’s not a lot of positive emotion thrown in there either. At least as a child, Kuusuke spent a lot of time actively trying to hurt his brother. And Kuniharu probably did too, if we take all of the examples of him trying to get “revenge” on Kusuo into account.

So it never occurs to him at first that people might have intrusive thoughts, or have thoughts they don’t necessarily believe pass through their heads, or thoughts they ultimately challenge and thoughts that directly contradict their behavior.

Okay angsty rant over lol

‘nother thing that strikes me as funny, not in a good way this time… really now. I have never met a girl who was that jealous of another girl’s boobs. If anything, I’ve met girls who got them too young and wished they hadn’t because of teasing.

Maybe it’s a cultural difference, maybe it’s the fact that a male author wrote this who doesn’t really know (or care) about accurately depicting teenage girls’ concerns in a comedy… anyways.

I beg to differ Saiki… that IS an incredible tattoo and I want to see it… I want that tattoo.. haha. And who cares if some people are bald?? and trans people exist?? Saiki likes to complain about things that do not matter at all. I guess he probably feels like it’s a burden to keep other people’s secrets, or something. He is just a teenager after all.

tbh I kind of wish that Asou had kept this if only for dramatic effect

come on… look at this…

Sigh. I love examples of Saiki interfering with fate just to help someone.

Okay, that’ll do it for part one of this post. Part two in a bit. 💕

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Breakfast in Margate (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Modern AU

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: A grumpy Papa Solomons (yes, that is a warning) and a whole lot of tooth-rotting domestic fluff

Summary:

Mornings aren’t always easy. For example, it’s terribly difficult to not be caught making breakfast for your fiancé, a workaholic who always takes the task upon himself.

However, what makes it harder today is the fact he loathes food made with recipes found online. Fortunately for you, though, Alfie isn’t the only one who’s good at playing games when he wants to push his own agenda.

Especially those that concern a sweet reward.

Author’s note: I've kept Alfie's adherence to his Jewish heritage quite loose. Nevertheless, I hope that the aspects I did incorporate in this work have been done so properly. If not, let me know and please don't hesitate to educate me (in a polite and respectful manner) because I love learning about different cultures and religions.

Tag List: @potter-solomons @zablife @wandawiccan60 @dreamlandcreations @liliac-dreamer @buttercupsandboys @vir-tual @rose-like-the-phoenix @hoodeddreams13 @mollybegger-blog @solomons-finest-rum @hecatemoon87 @babaohhhriley

TH Masterlist

Mornings like this are rare, these quiet moments unbroken by the usual ruckus in the kitchen. Now, it’s solely my bare feet on the wooden floor and the waves crashing onto the shore. No clanging of metal, no muttered curses in Yiddish or Russian, nor the scent of freshly brewed coffee. 

In the living room, Cyril lays in front of the hearth. The first rays of sunshine fall over him like a warm natural blanket, highlighting the ginger undertone in his fur. One of the many features he shares with his owner. 

As soon as I pass by, he lifts his head, tilts it in wonder, and lets out a low bark. After all, it’s Alfie who’s more often than not the first one to wander around the house at the crack of dawn. That is, if he’s slept at all. However, recently he’s started properly adhering to the Shabbat. Although, as much as he allows himself to because if Alfie Solomons is one thing, it’s mighty stubborn. Moreover, he’s an incurable workaholic. As hard as he works at The Old Rum House Bakery to let the business flourish and maintain his position as the fearsome Mad Baker of Camden, just as much effort does he put into our relationship. In fact, it’s not only towards Cyril and I his attention goes, but also to the house.

Our home.

Alfie has become a lot more domestic since we started dating, shortly after meeting one another on a train to London. Disregarding his tendency to walk around naked, he cooks and cleans, assuring me time and again I don’t have to help. When we go out for our weekly grocery trip, no matter how tired he is, he carries the bags to the car so that I don’t have to. Neither do I have to put away what we got, more often than not shipped off to the luxurious red sofa in the living room with a cup of coffee or tea to pair with whatever he’s baked at night. 

Nevertheless, regardless of the otherwise very loose relationship with his heritage, Ollie and I are glad he’s at least taking a day off in the week to rest up. The bakery has recently started taking its toll thanks to an influx in customers, which means extra stock as well as staff is needed. In turn, this means more part-timers to train and more admin work. In other words, everyone has to pick up the pace to meet the current demand. Such is the power of marketing, especially on social media. Alfie is loath to admit it, but Ollie and I can tell he’s secretly grateful we managed to convince him to let us handle the bakery’s socials.

We don’t get cinnamon buns on Monday anymore, though.

I stop in my tracks, turn to Cyril, and put a finger to my lips. “I know, love, but Papa is still sleeping. It’s finally Mama’s turn to make breakfast again.”

Seldom do I get the chance to experiment in the kitchen, let alone try a recipe I’ve found online. Or worse, via Youtube or Instagram. Now, that’s usually enough to make Alfie bristle. Nevertheless, mention the word ‘viral’ and a scowl will twist his lips.

Sometimes I wonder whether or not Alfie and Cyril are the same person because he lowers his head onto his paws and lets out a deep sigh that sounds like sarcastic resignation.

Thanks for the faith, buddy.

“It’s gonna be okay. No fire in the pan this time, I promise. How about we go stretch our legs after brekkie, hm? That sound good?”

Cyril huffs in agreement and closes his eyes, back to enjoying his luxurious pillow. 

We bought it for him when we went antique shop hopping in London last week. Although, perhaps it’s better to say I bought it after convincing my grumpy companion we should occasionally pamper our adopted four-legged child and I couldn’t fix his old pillow anymore. Of course I could, but I was more than done with constantly needing to fix the seams and re-stuff the thing.

Borough Market has become a regular stop on our weekly grocery trip, mostly because I used the splendidly efficient strategy of batting my lashes and pouting. Artisan goods and fresh produce can be luxuries, something to only occasionally splurge on. After all, why spend a fortune when there is a cheaper alternative that’s just as good? 

Nonetheless, Alfie developed a taste for supporting local businesses soon after our first visit. To some he has proposed contracts, offering them a position as a supplier to his bakery. Granted their goods are kosher, of course.

Yesterday, we got some wonderful fresh bright yellow bananas, eggs from a local farm, and oat flour from a mill a little ways away from London. Alfie thought little of it when I plonked them triumphantly in our grocery bag, having occupied himself with the fresh stock one of the florists was setting out. I glance at the colourful bouquet of wildflowers on the table and for a moment I’m back to him holding out to me, face full of the warm tenderness that stands in stark contrast to the stern and unpredictable persona he portrays when I’m not there. 

Right then and there, he wasn’t The Mad Baker of Camden, the fearsome King who rules the borough.

He was a sweet and caring gentleman.

Simply Alfie Solomons.

Nevertheless, in spite of these small moments of tenderness, he can still be awfully grumpy.

Especially if he hasn’t had his coffee.

“Mornin’, dove.” Two big warm hands glide over my hips towards my lower stomach. Those very same palms pull me flush against a naked chest grown soft with neglected muscle, slightly clammy with the remainder of last night’s late summer heat. Alfie presses his lips to the side of my neck and hums, tightening the embrace as he does so. The sonorous trill in his voice sends a shiver down my spine and rekindles a familiar heat. Nonetheless, the way he leans on me betrays he isn’t entirely awake yet. The slight slur in his words serve to confirm the lingering drowsiness, sounding like they’ve been pulled out of bed only moments before too. “That shirt looks good on you.”

“I’m glad you think so because you’re not getting it back any time soon.” I briefly stop mixing the batter to scratch his beard. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch as a content sigh escapes him. “You slept in.”

“Still woke up to an empty spot, though. If you want me to sleep more, yeah, which you know I find a terrible waste of time, I’ll need my wife to ‘old.”

I pat his hands to placate him. The thin gold band inlaid with a modest diamond around my ring finger matches his. I had thought Alfie would pick something elaborate for himself, but instead he chose a simple thick gold ring and got it engraved. It says: Ani l’dodi, v’dodi li; I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine. “Don’t get hasty. We aren’t married yet.”

“Let’s just go to the courthouse today.’’ He slips his hands beneath the fabric of the shirt I stole from him, letting them rest on my stomach after a brief caress. It’s a gesture he often makes nowadays. ‘‘Sign the paper, right, and be done with it so the desk eaters are ‘appy. We can always celebrate it later. Throw a party as big as the whole of bloody Camden, like a proper coronation ceremony to celebrate our union.”

“Tempting as it is, I’ll have to refuse. Besides, it's Shabbat today and you need to take a break. I promise I can wait a little while longer to officially become Mrs Solomons.”

“You ‘ave been from the start, Y/N. I don’t need a ring to call you my wife. ‘Sides, you well know ‘ow I am. Which reminds me, breakfast is my job, innit?” A wary tone creeps into his voice as he leans away to check what’s in the mixing bowl. “Is that edible?”

“It will be,” I say, continuing to mix the ingredients until they’re well combined.

“I’m not eatin’ that goo. Looks fucking awful, that stuff.”

“It’s healthy goo! Uses the bananas, eggs, and flour we got yesterday.”

Nose scrunched, Alfie peers at me. “Oh, so yesterday was all a little scam to get me to eat whatever this is?”

“You aren’t the only one who can lie. Although, it’s not really a lie, is it? More like a half-truth.’’ I shrug. ‘‘I simply never told you my plan. Would ruin the surprise.”

“Which is?”

“Baked oats that taste like cake. They just haven’t been baked yet.”

“Where’d you get the recipe?”

“YouTube…”

He groans, wide awake now that the conversation has taken a turn towards a point of absolute irritation. “Fucking ‘ell, dove, ‘ow many times ‘aven’t I told you not every recipe on social media-’’

“Don’t judge before you’ve tried it.” I put the spatula down, turn around in his embrace and steal a kiss off of his lips. “Said so yourself, didn’t you?”

“Don’t use my words against me.”

“Oh, I will. If only to keep things fair. Have a little faith in me. It’ll be fine.”

I hope.

A warning finger raised and pointed at me, he leans in until our faces are mere inches apart. “Fine. But I’m gonna make us coffee, right, so we’ll at least ‘ave something to get us fucking started.”

I can’t suppress a chuckle at the grumpy gesture. “Sure.”

The threat turns into tenderness when he cups my cheek. His palm has grown rough with the hours spent at the bakery, proof of his hard work. Tenderly, he presses his lips to mine. “Ikh hab dir lib.”

“I know.” To show I accept his usual indirect apology for his bad mood and avoid coming across as being cross with me, I run my fingers along his jaw. “I love you too.”

Resting his forehead against mine, he nudges my nose with his. “Mhm.”

“Why don’t you take Cyril for a brief walk, eh? The oats have to bake for twenty-five minutes anyway.”

“We can take ‘im on a walk later together. I’ll go set the table.”

“First put on a pair of knickers.”

“No.”

“You know the rules, Alfie. No buns on the chairs during summer.”

“I ain’t sweating.”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe you’re the one who isn’t.”

I cock an eyebrow, fighting the smug smirk threatening to break out. “That so?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, “first we’ll ‘ave coffee, right, ‘cause otherwise neither of us functions. Now, ‘ow about after we’ve started the day proper I’ll fuck you like last night, hm?”

Until I black out. 

The prospect of it mixes with memories of last night. Sea blue eyes, usually so steady and full of hidden temperaments, barely able to refrain from going cross-eyed. The fight with the stutter in his hips, gradually growing closer to the edge of pleasure but also exhaustion. Big hands reminiscent of wolf paws gripping the headboard for support while I was already lost in a satisfied delirium. The absent-minded glance to the bruises on my thighs adds to the steadily growing heat between my legs, perversely longing for more.

For him.

Nevertheless, the haze clears in an instant with a single sharp thought. I take a step back, crossing my arms as I search his expression for confirmation. However, as usually is the case, Alfie keeps his true motifs to himself. And this time, behind a mask he tends to put on when he wants something from me in particular. “So you can make breakfast. That’s what you’re getting at, aren’t you?”

“No,” he purrs, stealing a kiss as soon as he has bridged the distance between us, “not at all, dove. I just want my wife. I wanna make love to you.” We softly start to sway, slowly making our way out of the kitchen. “Let me make love to you.”

We come to a halt on the threshold. “Later. After you put on a pair of knickers and we’ve eaten.”

He blinks, the cheeky smile grown stiff. I can feel his muscles tense, unconsciously causing him to grip me a bit tighter than before. “But-’’

“Knickers, Alfie.”

“One round.”

“Alfred Solomons Jr, knickers. Right now.”

The use of his full name provokes a menacing snarl, the kind which is usually preserved for those who cross him. “Those oats better be fucking worth it, yeah, ‘cause otherwise you’re payin’ for lunch.”

I trace his cock, the skin hot and hardening beneath my fingertips with every sharp intake of breath. Perhaps this game won’t go on for as long as it usually does before he loses control. “Somehow I don’t think I will.”

He roughly grips my face, the thrill of every low-voiced word against my lips travelling throughout my body. “I ought to do somethin’ ‘bout that attitude of yours. Big fucks small, Y/N, always.”

Game over.

Except for the one card I have left to play.

“I know,” I wrap my hand around him, barely able to grip him properly, “but first some knickers. Please, Papa?”

“Clever bird, ain’t ya?” He growls into the kiss when I lightly squeeze him and let go. “Maybe I should carry out my own personal form of stigmata later. Add to those pretty bruises.”

Like snow in the spring sun, his attitude melts and changes. Alfie gently nudges my cheek and makes for the bedroom. A few moments later, he returns and starts setting the table while I pour the batter in the ramekins and plop them in the oven.

Despite the promise to make coffee, I reach for the cupboard to grab a mug. After all, old habits die hard.

Nevertheless, I find myself cut off by a hand that gently lowers mine, away from the handle.

“I said I’ll make us coffee,” Alfie grumbles. “Let Papa Solomons do ‘is job, yeah. Go sit in the livin’ room. I’ll be there shortly.”

I nod at the baking aftermath in the sink. “I got some washing up to do.”

“Nah, that can wait. Coffee and, ‘opefully, food first.” He places his hands on my shoulders and kindly coerces me out of the kitchen. “Go on.”

I let him guide me, feigning defiance by pouting. Yet, the act quickly falls apart with a lighthearted giggle. I suppose I still have a lot to learn from him concerning the art of masks. “Alright.”

Soon after he joins me on the porch, where I’ve settled down with Cyril to enjoy the salt air. The beach across the street is still empty, devoid of the plethora of towels. The breeze is silent, not yet filled with the chatter of tourists and locals alike.

These hours are ours.

This is our Margate.

“'Ere you go, love.” Alfie hands me a steaming mug of cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso, the milk soft and foamy, before he sits down next to me. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes as I take a sip. “Nice, innit?”

“Mhm.”

Thus we sit in comfortable silence, enjoying the view and each other’s company. Cyril has started to doze off, although he tries in vain to keep his eyes open. One glance to the side tells of Alfie fighting the same battle. Occasionally he pulls a face or lifts his hand to stifle a yawn. It’s strangely funny to watch him continue to take a sip afterwards, a small gesture of hope. Surely he should be readily awake before his cup is empty.

Because sleeping isn’t an option.

He’s tired of the nightmares.

The faint sound of the oven going off disturbs the domestic bliss.

Alfie groans as struggles to get up, glad to have my arm to use as support while he pulls himself to his feet. I say nothing, knowing full well how his sciatica influences his mood.

And it’s already rotten enough in the morning.

As Alfie washes his hands, I get the baked oats out of the oven and place them on the plates. Meanwhile, Alfie warms up a few slices of babka and the challah bread we made together yesterday. “Just so we ‘ave somethin’.”

He sits down while I wash my hands. From the corner of my eye, I see him poke the oats with his fork. “It’s kosher?”

“It is,” I say, drying my hands before I sit down across from him. “Shall I go first?”

“Very funny.” He scoops a bit of the oats onto his fork and puts it in his mouth. His brows knit together, contemplating the taste.

“And? Do you like it?” 

Remaining silent and gaze fixed on the ramekin, he pokes his oats again. 

I swallow hard, my excitement crushed under the stones of dread. A nagging voice in the back of my head feeds into the fear of his judgement. Funny how one connects their self worth to food. Then again, it was that which started our relationship. A cup of coffee, a slice of babka, and a slice of plant-based carrot cake. Back then, though, my stomach didn’t quiver this badly nor did my ribs feel like they were caged in a very tight-strung corset. “You don’t.”

“Dove,” he begins, but doesn’t continue. 

Not until after he’s had another bite. “It’s good.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or simply trying to appease me.”

“I’m serious.”

“You are?”

“I am,’’ he says, raising his voice ever so slightly in spite of the effort to keep it even. Alfie finally meets my gaze and I can tell he’s being sincere regardless of the way he accusingly waves his fork at me. ‘‘But I still don’t like 'ow you got this off of the internet. ‘Ow many times ‘aven’t I told you, hm? You should know better by now.”

I chuckle as I at last taste the baked oats myself. They’re chocolatey with a subtle banana undertone, which is warmed by the cinnamon. “I gotta find new recipes somehow.”

“There are cookbooks.”

“Too limited and they take up too much space.” While nibbling on a piece of challah bread, I take a sip of coffee. “Can I make this more often?”

“It does taste like cake,” he reluctantly admits, spooning up another bite. “Yes, you can.”

“Why do you make it sound like there’s a condition?”

“You can make these oats, yeah, if I get to serve you something sweet in return.”

Something not to be had in the kitchen.

‘‘Deal,’’ I lean in, biting my lip as I play my final card, ‘‘Papa.’’

Alfie clenches his fork upon hearing his favourite nickname, the title he is secretly proud of. A dark haze clouds his eyes, the gloss in them highlighted by the morning sun. The smirk on his lips has evened out, his jaw tightened with the effort to practise self-restraint. 

Game over.

I won.

And the prize is something sweet with lots of cream.