#Créme de la Créme

[imvietnamesenotchinese]

My Créme de la Créme MCs -- Ethan & Celeste Dalton

I played CLDC by @hpowellsmith and enjoyed it quite a bit, so I got a commission of my MCs from OyenPaws on IG <3

Spotify playlists:

More info under the cut!

Ethan Dalton and Celeste Dalton are siblings. However, they're total polar opposites. Celeste is bubbly, outgoing, flirty and dramatic. Meanwhile, Ethan is introverted, reclusive, quiet and stoic.

I added lots and lots of headcanons (sorry), so in my mind, their playthroughs happened parallel with each other.

Ethan is very academic and studious. He stays in his own lane, does his own thing, unbothered. Celeste is popular and is involved with everything and everyone. She's a flirt, for sure. Florin Kraemer, eat your heart out.

Ethan decided to pursue higher education at a prestigious university, while Celeste decided to have fun with an art gallery apprenticeship. Her end goal is to become a fashion designer and start her own haute couture house.

In both playthroughs, Gallatin won. None of them ended up married. Lady Renaldt got exposed, and the good Dalton family name was restored.

Ethan got thrown in the mines (yikes!) while Celeste was busy fooling around with her boytoys. You'd think that she'd notice her brother being gone, but it's kind of hard when there are so many guys fighting for your attention :/

I scoured the author's blog to find any clues about the fashion in CLDC. I didn't want to put them in their school uniforms (which would've just been easier honestly), and since the zeitgeist of the CLDC universe is actually... not THAT set in stone (I even looked at other people's MC to make sense of what the fashion should look like) I just ended up taking inspo from dark/light academia, old money and coquette aesthetics. Can you tell that Celeste is very Lana Del Rey coded? :)

Their parents accidentally supported a corrupt political candidate.

Celeste is incredibly arrogant, vain and bold. For better or for worse. Ethan also has a tendency to look down on people he deems to be less intellectual than him.

Celeste had a hate-love thing with Blaise. Ethan wondered why she needed two snarky dark-haired dudes in her life. He pretty much avoided everyone, and the closest thing he had to romance was with Prince Rosario of all people!? So much for trying to be low-profile.

Ethan has to constantly drag Celeste out of dumb situations of her own making. Celeste has to constantly remind Ethan that people, even him, need human interaction.

Honestly the only reason why they managed to save the family's reputation is because Ethan was working behind the scenes and cleaned up Celeste's love scandals.

They're part east/southeast asian, part middle eastern and part european.

Ethan loves birds, especially corvids. He spends more time with birds than he does with people. His earring is supposed to resemble a raven.

Celeste is part of the Prefect Committee. Ethan is a member of the Birchmeier Society.

Ethan is 5'11, Celeste is 5'5.

Their mom is another OC of mine, Darcy Angelis <3

Had to restart the playthrough because of this, but in Celeste's playthrough, she decided to dance with Auguste at the ball. After that chapter ended, it triggered multiple consecutive scenes, one after another, where literally ALL of the characters had the "what are we???" talk with her. Can't believe the harem found out.

#créme de la créme #cdlc #cog #choice of games #ethan vibes #celeste vibes

[windouzukid]

Vermilion Pleasure Night Vol.3: Créme de la Créme (Japan volume 5 + "THE COLOR OF LIFE")

Vermilion Pleasure Night (バミリオン・プレジャー・ナイト, Bamirion Purejā Naito), or VPN, is a Japanese late-night variety and comedy skit TV show created by Yoshimasa Ishibashi. The program mixed animated and live-action segments (often parodying TV series) in a fashion similar to SCTV. The show premiered on July 2, 2000 on TV Tokyo and aired 25 episodes.

Official English Website

(Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vermilion_Pleasure_Night)

#Vermillion Pleasure Night #Vol. 3: Créme de la Créme #Créme de la Créme #Adv Films #バミリオン・プレジャー・ナイト #Yoshimasa Ishibashi #石橋義正 #2000 #Japan

[nosamyrag]

#créme de la créme #valee #pink siifu #mvw #spotify

[fkinavocado]

remind me never to reinstall dating apps again

#men are literally trash as is #but the créme de la créme are on these apps #literally makes me wanna stay single forever

[stellasolaris]

was scrolling through my "winx brandon" tag and got disappointed in myself for the lack of content I've created for him because despite what my blog might suggest I adore him just as much as I adore stella, and it's a shame I haven't written about him more. will try and make an effort to create more content for him because I have a lot of thoughts about him

#same applies to riven #these three are my créme de la créme #liv speaks #personal #winx brandon

[numerolock]

I adore all Choice of Games games made by Hannah Powell-Smith because those B-plots just hit so hard

Like I don't really pay attention to them in the beginning cause I'm here for the romance but then suddenly I find out my principal is running a child-trafficking ring or my ward accidentally killed somebody in a cultistic ritual

And all I can do is just stare for a moment because wow that's bonkers but actually makes sense

And that's just great storytelling honestly

#choice of games #spoilers #créme de la creme #noblesse oblige

[brotherblaze]

quicksand —gojo satoru + geto suguru

summary: Five months after exiling yourself from jujutsu society and fleeing Japan, Gojō and Getō finally track you down. And they’re not going to let you slip through their fingers for a second time.

word count: ~3,5k

warnings: n/a

The evening breeze is cool.

You’re sitting on the grassy area, just in front of the small strip of sand on the shore, legs outstretched in front of you, heels digging into the sand. There are cows grazing a stone’s throw away from you, fenced in and kept up by the city council. The newspaper said they’re here annually, every summer from April to late September. Waves lap at the shore.

The hair on the back of your neck rises on its ends. Familiar cursed energy wraps around you like a vice. You don’t look back to meet their eyes, instead you look at the cows. There are a few calves amongst the herd, fluffier than the fully grown cows.

Footsteps approach and a warm body stops right behind you. Warmth emits from him like he’s a furnace and his cursed energy is all too familiar, almost suffocating, and oh, the irony of forgetting how formidable a person the Gojō Satoru is.

“Get up,” he says. His voice is stern. Cold, even. What a contrast. He’s like a siren, luring you in with body heat to chill you to the bone with his words. You ignore him at first, and instead, take a long breath in, hold it for a few moments, then exhale. It does little to soothe the buzzing in your veins and stop the thoughts racing through your head. Too many to keep count of — all of them centered around them. There’s a headache blooming, too.

Slowly, you unfold your legs and stand, dusting the sand off your pants. You turn to him, keeping one foot rooted on the corner of the yellow picnic blanket to keep it from flying off with a gust of wind. You raise your eyes to Gojō, then over his shoulder to where Getō stands, just a few strides away. The bitter taste of shame crawls up your esophagus as your eyes meet for a moment and you quickly avert yours to stare at the Jujutsu High button on Gojō’s uniform. Uniform. Straight from a mission, then. But it’s hard to tell; they have an uncanny ability to evade the blows of the opponent, never looking disheveled — no, not uncanny, a testament to their prowess, of their ranks as Special Grades. The créme de la créme of the jujutsu world.

“Well?” Gojō’s head is cocked to the side ever so slightly, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes obscured by bandages. Still, the feeling of being watched overwhelms you. You level your gaze with his and attempt not to get spooked by the intensity of his gaze and yet you’re unsuccessful. He definitely notices the subtle flinch of your shoulders. So, you raise your eyes to the treeline behind both of them. He calls out your name and you ignore the instinct to look, to give him the satisfaction of yet another flinch.

“I was a danger to everyone around me. So, I ran.” Cool wind from the sea caresses the back of your neck. You grind your foot deeper into the sand as the edges of the picnic blanket curl up. “It doesn't concern you, by the way, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

“It does concern us when you disappear for months!” Gojō argues, swinging his hand to the side.

“How’d you find me, anyway?”

“You took my credit card,” he says, “three, actually.”

You swear under your breath. That fucking donut shop in town, right. Great donuts, no way to pay in cash.

“So you had to run over here? I’m fine, I was fine, everything was fine. You should’ve just moved on with your lives.”

“I think we have a right to know what’s going on, no?” Getō speaks up. Your eyes meet again but this time it’s harder to look away. In fact, you can’t force yourself to avert your eyes. “We tried to do right by Amanai and we’ll extend the same courtesy to you.”

Unlike Gojō, Getō’s voice is soft. It curls around you invitingly, like it wants you to spill all the secrets you keep close to your heart.

“No,” you say. The word is so bitter in your mouth you almost want to drink down handfuls of salty ocean water to taste anything, anything other than that. You ignore the intensity of Gojō’s gaze, ignore the twinge in your body that’s pulling you back towards them but that ache somewhere deep in your bones, the one that wants you to step closer to chase the warmth of human intimacy you’ve deprived yourself of for the past five months — that crawls up your spine and you almost take a step closer. “Just… leave.”

Gojō grabs the collar of your jacket and yanks you up to face him. You hiss a ‘no’, one hand clawing at his bare wrist, toes barely scraping the ground to kick up a clump of grass and dirt. You expect not to reach him, only Infinity, yet you do, and sink your nails into his flesh. He doesn’t even flinch. This is Gojō Satoru, the very peak of everything, he doesn’t skirt around the subject and he doesn’t accept any efforts at skirting around the subject.

“What do I have to do to make you trust us—”

His right hand collides with your left, already reaching for his throat, and fire licks up the length of your forearm. The distinct sound of metal snapping under immense pressure bounces against your eardrums. The next moment, the glint of the evening sun off metal shards, and the next, a piercing pain in your left cheek. Your knees give in.

Three of your fingers are lying on the pasture grass, glowing blue liquid seeping out of each one.

He seems to realize when you do because his grip on you goes slack and your knees collide with the ground. Your vision is blurring with tears as you reach out to gather the pieces of metal that were your fingers only moments ago and stuff them into your jacket pocket because they were organic once. They can be slotted back, right? They’ll be fine, right?

You reach around yourself for the yellow picnic blanket, shake it free of the stray grains of sand, and sloppily wrap it around your left hand. The bright blue liquid begins to seep through the layers almost immediately.

When you stand, you pointedly ignore both Getō and Gojō, sidestep them both without even glancing at them, and begin the trek back to civilization down the forest trail that leads to the daycare at the edge of the woods. Their footsteps, so silent you almost miss them, follow. They don’t speak, either, as if that will make you forget about their presence and the suffocating force of their jujutsu. Your headache is now fully present and making itself known, wrapping around your brain like barbed wire.

The forest trail melts away abruptly into a stone-paved road. It runs along the perimeter of the daycare and diverges in two up ahead: on the left, the daycare itself and its adjacent indoor swimming pool, on the right, more woods and the parking lot.

You continue ignoring your shadows and climb into the passenger seat of your car. Something vaguely human-shaped is sitting in the driver’s seat, its body littered with eyes. It just stares at you as you pull the car door closed.

YOUR DIVINE MAJESTY…

“What now?” You pinch the bridge of your nose and squeeze your eyes shut to clear your vision.

APOLOGIES FOR MY INTRUSION, BUT WOULD IT NOT BE BEST TO HAVE THEM ON HAND? It tightens its grip on the steering wheel for a moment as if it's forming a nervous habit. Maybe. You’re not sure if they can even feel human emotions.

You glance at the side mirror. They’re still standing there, a few feet from the car. They don’t have any intention to move, either, you think.

THEIR DIVINE MAJESTY NEED NOT WASTE TIME OR ENERGY ON COOKING AND CLEANING. THEY CAN FOCUS ON REVERSING THE BARRIER.

“What barrie—”

You bury your face into your free hand with a loud swear. The headache pulses behind your eyes and your vision blurs with tears. Fuck. You push the car door open and slide out—

“You!” A few long strides are all it takes to reach Gojō and you rear your fist back for a swing at his blurry face. Something catches it and you yank yourself out of Getō’s hold, yank yourself away from both of them, and take two steps back. Gravel crunches under your feet. “I told you to leave, but no, you’re Gojō Satoru and you know better than everyone, right?”

“How is any of this my fault?”

“I asked you to leave! If you’d just left, we could’ve all left and gone our separate ways but no, of course not!” You turn on your heel and stomp back to the car, pulling the back door open. “Shut up and get in the car.”

You don’t wait for their answer and climb into the front seat.

They’re willing to hear you out, you’ll give them that. The curse in the driver’s seat growls from its throat when Gojō and Getō sit and buckle in.

“I need a driver, not a dog,” you remind it. It spits a swear under its breath and puts the car into drive. It jostles as it drives over the speedbump at the entrance of the parking lot and you lay your left hand onto your knee.

Blue bleeds through the picnic blanket and stains your pants and fuck, does this mystery liquid even come out of clothes? Can you even throw it into the washing machine or will it carry the disease onto the washing machine? You groan, imagining a washing machine with a sonic cannon mounted on it. What if this thing is corrosive instead, and by the time you arrive home to wash it out, it’s eaten through both fabric and skin, maybe even muscle, or bone? Will it spread there, too? It shouldn’t, it should be non-viral by now, but maybe its virality only applies if it’s hopping host organisms and won’t spread in its’ first host even if it is viral. And fuck if you have to quarantine yourself in Limbo again—

“Hey.”

A hand lands on the junction between your shoulder and neck, digging into it with just enough force to feel relaxing. Getō presses down on the muscle knot and you place your free hand in front of your mouth to stifle the groan that wants to escape. You lean your head to the left, temple resting against the seat headrest to give Getō’s hand more room to work. Human contact is one hell of a drug.

“You’re panicking.”

You make a noncommittal sound in the back of your throat.

“Breathe.”

“We’re trapped here.” The hand that’s moved on to pull the knot out of your shoulder abruptly stops its administrations. “I read the Book of the Damned, I set a boundary spell. It triggered when you grabbed me.” You turn your head slightly to find Gojō in the corner of your eye. “And I have no idea how to undo it.”

“How’d you put it up?” Gojō asks. His voice is even, but it’s missing the edge it had earlier. More than anything, he sounds tired. You shake your head slowly.

“I don’t remember.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Satoru,” Getō says.

“What does the barrier do?” Gojō ignores Getō’s warning and leans forward in his seat. He’s fully in your field of vision now, all-encompassing. There’s something about him that draws the eye.

“Loser dies, winner gets out.” You shrug your shoulders. “I panicked and the Book gave me a spell; ‘s how it works.”

“Stop reading that cursed thing,” Gojō says, falling back into his seat, arms crossed over his chest. You blink once, twice, then turn straight in your seat, too, and pull away from Getō’s warm hand.

The rest of the drive is silent. Street lights are flickering on the farther you drive. Stores are long closed by now, neon, and lit brand signs hanging on the front of the passing buildings. Dusk paints the sky in a soft lavender. June is nice here.

Eventually, the curse behind the wheel parks the car in the half-finished garage adjacent to a small blue house. Silence lingers in the car as it’s shut off, and the key is deposited in your open palm. The drenched rag that was once a yellow picnic blanket squelches in your lap as you adjust your hand and fire licks up your left arm. You stifle the sound of pain that wants to escape, and turn to the curse. It stares at you with the array of eyes littered throughout its entire body.

“Get lost.”

The figure blinks at you with its many eyes and then slowly, like a sandcastle destroyed by the waves, it melts away.

You climb out of the car, digging into your jacket pocket for the house key and spare a moment to curse under your breath. If the barrier really is impenetrable, you’re all stuck here. They will probably refuse a hotel or whatever to keep an eye on you. That means two more copies of the key, more food, more cooking and cleaning, and more reasons for your shitty neighbors to spy on you. All that on top of trying to piece your fingers back onto your hand — a very, very not human hand — maybe you’ll get lucky and your body will reject the repairs and kill you of lead poisoning or something. You stare at the now-dripping ball of fabric. Is there even lead in this?

Pain twinges again when you forget and try to grab the handle with that hand. You pull away with a hiss but the door cracks open nonetheless and you finish the job with the nudge of your foot. They’re so close you can feel the heat of their breaths on the back of your neck and you hurry inside, teeth gritting together to keep yourself from making a stupid comment that will earn you their hovering for the rest of eternity. The door creaks when Gojō pulls it shut behind him and you wince at the sound. You toe your sneakers off and wander into the house. The flowers strung along every interior wall of the house bloom when you approach. They cast just the right amount of illumination without melting your brain into soup.

Gojō and Getō are still lingering in the open hallway, taking in the interior of the house. It’s more spacious than it looks on the outside. There are two doors to their right, one up ahead, right next to the brick oven, and an open kitchen and a living room to their left. The glass coffee table you seat yourself behind is well within their line of sight.

The fingers clink when they hit the glass table. You slowly unwrap the blue-soaked picnic blanket and place it on the farthest end of the coffee table. It leaves a dribble of blue liquid on the glass.

There is movement in the corner of your eye. You ignore it to stare dumbly at the fingers. You place your metal hand on the glass and attempt to align the fingers to their respective stumps. The movement sloshes the blue dribble around and smears it along the glass surface. Can glass be corroded? It would be a pain in the ass to have another glass table delivered.

Getō gathers your hair and ties it back. You fight to keep a sigh from leaving your lips and instead, swallow around the lump in your throat. His touch is soft and doesn’t tug on any strands and you tilt your face down the moment he’s done, ignoring the lurch in your heart when his warm hands leave your skin. A few strands of hair fall in front of your eyes and you huff. The hair dangles back and forth as if it’s mocking you and you narrow your eyes at it.

“You got a headband somewhere?”

“Shelf next to the bathroom sink.” You jerk your chin forward. “Straight across from the front door.”

You watch him until he disappears behind the brick oven and turn back to the table. Your heart shoots into your throat when Gojō’s face appears in front of yours and you realize he’s crouched down on the other side of the table. He moves quietly, you remind yourself. Be aware of your surroundings, you remind yourself.

Gojō picks up one of the fingers lined up on the glass and slowly turns it between his own. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, his attention solely on the metal digit in his hand.

There are hands on your head and you jump again. Getō makes a soothing hush as he fits the headband over your head and then pulls it up over your bangs. He brushes a few stray baby hairs back with his fingers but they spring up again almost immediately.

“Thanks,” you say stiffly and reach to pluck your finger from Gojō.

“What happened?” He asks and you glance up at him just as he’s pulling the bandages over his head. His hair falls down over his eyes. Beautiful eyes — terrifying eyes. You think you might get lost in the depth behind them if you don’t look away immediately. So, you do, and clear your throat.

“Some piece of shit curse user infected me with some sort of transmutation virus; anything organic becomes animate technology.” You wipe away more of the pooling blue liquid, and line the fingers up again. It seems off somehow. You swap the middle and ring fingers. Still off; it’s hard to tell which finger belongs where and you grit your teeth together and swallow the taste of tears in your mouth.

Gojō leans in and carefully swaps the pointer and ring finger. You want to argue, tell him that you know your own body better than he does but this thing buried into your flesh is new and confusing. Inhuman. Maybe his Six Eyes allows him more knowledge than you will ever have.

In the corner of your eye, Getō moves to the space between you and Gojō, and sits down on the rug, too.

This might be the most people this house has seen since you moved in. Something about it feels right, something about it tears a gaping hole into your heart.

The headache pulses behind your eyes again and you squeeze them shut. When you open them, the world is swimming again. You force down the discomfort of Gojō and Getō’s silhouettes fraying at the edges and return your attention to your hand. Where there once was muscle, hidden by layers and layers of blood vessels and skin, there is a layer of softly illuminated cables hidden under a layer of thin metal with grooves and dents that adjusts itself as you move your arm. You take a breath in and wait for your vision to focus again before you pick up a finger and press it against its corresponding stump.

The cables underneath the metal plating mold together with a low hiss. blue liquid dribbles onto the glass tabletop. You repeat the action once, then once more.

Slowly, you crook one finger, then the other, and the third one. It’s not quite the same as your still-human hand, but it’s a feeling of sorts. It even emits warmth. The luminescent cables bend under the movement.

Gojō lets his impulsive thoughts win and reaches out to press a finger against the soft tissue with his finger.

“Do you go around shoving your dick into people’s gunshot wounds, too?” You slap his hand softly and he pulls back.

“How far does it reach?” Getō asks. You purse your lips and shrug your jacket off, and fold it onto your lap. The metal runs all the way up to about mid-bicep, where it burrows under the scarred skin.

Getō’s hand jerks on his thigh, as if he wants to reach out to you. Instead, he balls his hand into a fist around the fabric of his pants until his knuckles turn white. You don’t want to look up to face him, so you pointedly ignore his eyes as you shimmy closer and raise your arm towards him. There’s a moment of hesitation from his end before his fingers uncurl and ghost over your skin. His touch is gentle, like he’s terrified you’ll shatter if he exerts the smallest amount of pressure.

“Did it hurt?” He asks, the pad of his thumb smoothing over the scar tissue.

“Worse than the sorcerer killer.”

His fingers trace the metal plates of your arm, over the exposed cables in the crook of your elbow, all the way down to your hand and the newly re-attached fingers.

“Satoru, have you seen anything like this before?”

Gojō leans in and takes your left hand in his. He turns it one way and then the other, silent all the while. You glance at Getō who shrugs his shoulder minutely.

“Never,” Gojō says finally. He turns your palm to face him and laces his fingers between yours. He gives your hand a squeeze. “But we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

part two.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk imagines

[mochademic]

100 Days of Productivity [Day: 57] || 100 Jours de Productivité [Jour: 57]

different shades of créme. chasing the feeling of "never better".

the weather feels a little moody. cloudy enough to be grey, even with the blue sky visible. it stays like that until the early evening when we're given precious few hours of golden light. then we must wait until morning.

there's a different taste to the air these days. something is around the bend, and the world becomes almost congested. this is all in my head, of course.

essay proposals started

applications sorted

cleaning sorted

plants fed

freelance project planned

currently listening // ASHAMED by HEALTH

différentes nuances de crème. à la poursuite du sentiment de "jamais mieux".

le temps est un peu maussade. assez nuageux pour être gris, même si le ciel bleu est visible. il reste ainsi jusqu'au début de la soirée, lorsque nous avons droit à quelques précieuses heures de lumière dorée. ensuite, nous devons attendre le matin.

il y a un goût différent dans l'air ces jours-ci. quelque chose se prépare, et le monde devient presque congestionné. tout cela est dans ma tête, bien sûr.

début des propositions d'essais

demandes triées

nettoyage terminé

plantes nourries

projet freelance prévu

chanson // ASHAMED par HEALTH

#100 days of productivity #day 57 #100dop #100 jours de productivité #jour 57 #100jdp #studyblr #study motivation #studyspo #study aesthetic #study blog #bookish #gradblr

[nextnewsnow]

Créme de la créme

#flowers #botanical #flower #plant #art #nature #beauty #scenery #cute #photographers on tumblr #cottagecore #cottage aesthetic #naturecore #inspiration #motivation #alternative #flower aesthetic #aesthetic #travel #photography #landscape #paradise #adventure #explore #traveling #style #forest #forestcore #cottage #pretty in pink

[greenapplebling]

*Superboy, Impulse and Robin on stream*

Kon: *reading a comment* "Don't do coke"

Kon: Don't tell me what to do. I do coke since I was... born

Bart: We're a bad influence

Tim: Tragic

Kon, looking at his phone: Pfff- Guys, look at what my dad sent me *shows his screen to the camera*

Screen: *Superdad sent a text: Don't say that*

Tim: *shoves Kon's hand away* No, idiot! What if it shows his number or something?

Kon, putting his phone away: Sorry, dad *fakes crying* I'm so sorry, I swear the guys pressured me-

Bart: *holds Kon in a headlock* Don't worry, sir! *points to the camera* I'll make sure your son leaves this place as a straight A gentleman, example of the example, la créme de la créme-

Tim, amused: Cuz you're so trustworthy

Bart: I am!

#dc #tim drake #batman #batfam #robin #red robin #kon el #conner kent #superboy #superman #clark kent #superfam #impulse #bart allen #kid flash #flashfam #teen titans #young justice #young just us #incorrect dc quotes #incorrect young justice quotes #source: a stream made by Lit Killah with Tiago PZK and Bhavi #i saw this on a short on yt

[magicalgirlagency]

What’s your absolute favorite magical girl series?

Here's the Créme de la Créme tier of my tierlist to give any ideas:

In this tier, we have (in order of placement):

Cloudy Wondrous;

Dame Daffodil;

Magical Warrior Diamond Heart (I didn't had the opportunity to play it yet, but the amount of dedication in the production of this VN is something to be admired);

Fushigi Mahou FunFun Pharmacy;

Hirogaru Sky PreCure;

HeartCatch PreCure;

Go! Princess PreCure;

Healin' Good PreCure;

Kirby Star Allies;

Little Witch Academia;

LoliRock;

Machikado Mazoku/Demon Girl Next Door;

Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne (Finn Fish did it first, not Kyuubey. Shut up);

Majo no Takyuubin/Kiki's Delivery Service;

Himitsu no Akko-chan (I'm most fond of the second version from the 80's);

Kabushikigaisha MagiLumiere/MagiLumiere Co. Inc. (it's getting an anime this year!!);

Magical Girl Critical;

FlipFlappers;

The Life and Times of Juniper Lee;

Flying Witch;

Magical Girl Problems, Magical Girl Solutions;

90's Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon (Classic, S and SuperS);

Sailor Moon Crystal and Eternal (FYI: By the time I made this tierlist, Cosmos wasn't out yet);

Tongari Boushi no Atelier/Witch Hat Atelier;

Houkago no Pleiades/Wish Upon the Pleiades;

Princess Love❤Pon;

The Owl House;

MASHLE: Magic & Muscles;

Hover Girls;

The Powerpuff Girls (OG);

Re:Cutie Honey;

Twitches;

Panel de Pon (known in the West as Tetris Attack);

Wimp Witch;

Tensei Oujo to Tensai Reijou no Mahou Kakumei/The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess & the Genius Young Lady (TenTen Kakumei, for short);

WordGirl;

Majokko Shimai no Yoyo to Nene/Magical Sisters Yoyo & Nene;

SpectraSpell;

Sabrina, the Teenage Witch;

Amethyst, Princess of Gemworld;

ArtisWitch;

Tokyo MewMew New (the OG series is good, but the way the reboot recontextualizes things and respects Ikumi-sensei's image is just magnificent);

Ojamajo Doremi (NO CUTS, NO CENSORSHIP, NO AMERICANIZATION);

Twinkle Star Sprites;

PuyoPuyo and PuyoPop Fever;

Ribon no Kishi/Princess Knight.

[lotsadeer]

I'd love to hear more of your ideas for the AU, if you wanna share? 👀

So my first question anon is how much do you know about Cirque du Soleil because that will inform how much you understand the idea of this au and its intensity as a theatre/circus au

For the people in the audience who know not the joys of a Cirque du Soleil show, consider a classic circus. It is entertainment, it is a close knit company of actors and performers and stage hands travelling for months on end, it is a family. They seek to thrill and awe an audience with their skills, their ability to draw gasps and fear and applause and joy in equal measure through the movements of their bodies in the center ring.

Now consider a theatre company, a typical playhouse. It is entertainment, it is a close knit company of actors and performers and stage hands in the confined space of a theatre for months on end, it is a family. They seek to tell a story to an audience, to draw them in and live the tale unfolding on stage through their way with spoken word and body language.

Now find yourself the masters of these crafts. The créme de la créme of clowns and tragedians. Of acrobats and ballet dancers. Of stage hands and technical engineers. Of choreographers and writers.

And you create a performance that is a showcase in the mastery of the theatrical arts. A travelling show like no other that will make the audience laugh and cry in equal measure. That takes the idea of a circus to the absolute limits, and then pushes past them.

You create Cirque du Soleil.

I have, tragically, never seen a Cirque du Soleil show in person. Someday I will! But many performances are available on their YouTube if folks want to go watch to get a proper idea of what I'm attempting to convey.

These shows have moving stages, practical effects, puppetry, pyrotechnics in some cases! Many of the performers are basically olympic level athletes as well as phenomenal actors. The mastery of mime work and traditional theatrical clowns is inspiring. The stories told through the performances are beautiful and moving in ways I cannot always properly describe.

I am forever grateful to my highschool Theatre Tech teacher for introducing me to Cirque du Soleil. Babby theatre nerd me's dream was to be a stage hand for Cirque du Soleil. I dont think I could handle the stress these days, but I can appreciate it from afar.

claps my hands together

So! Now that you understand the bedrock of this AU, lets talk about Treebark.

This is in its infancy and I am still noodling with how I want to do this, but right now...

So my thoughts are that Martyn is a tech hand originally but Grian convinces him to understudy for The Hand. Ren is one of the leads for The Death of the Red King part of the massive story performance.

The original person to play The Hand has to drop from the performance shortly before its set to start touring. So they have to very quickly make sure Martyn is up to snuff (and he is, he's done bit parts before and can act, and they wouldnt have hired him if he wasnt good at the necessary acrobatics).

And Martyn doesnt know Ren terribly well. Like they know each other. Like any circus, Cirque performers are a relatively close knit company. But Martyn doesnt KNOW know him. And this is their first time performing together.

And I havent thought PAST that beyond your typical theatre au tropes where their relationship develops off stage and it intensifies the on stage performance and then add in the circus au where during a performance one of them gets seriously hurt (Ren) and what comes from that. and the drama of everything behind the scenes which culminates in intensity on stage because character bleed is a THING even in acting and theatre.

Also something something audience participation is a thing in Cirque shows

#mcyt shenanigans #I need a tag for this sksks #right now we'll call it #treebark circus #I will make a better name #probably whatever treebark is in french so itll be cirque du (treebark) #or something #treebark

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Good evening, Mary, I am back with another request for a possible drabble for Riven! What about him and reader (girlfriend/fiancée, wife) having a soft evening and just cuddling after they practiced together?

oh my god I love this absolutely yes I can <3 also I'm sorry idk why I always turn this into "being (jokingly) annoyed at Riven" I seriously think I might have problem

(this man I swear)

You let out a deep breath, pushing back into his chest as you settled. It was comfortable like that - more than just comfortable. Pillows everywhere, a blanket thrown over your legs, pulled up to your chest, your feet wrapped in the fluffiest socks you possessed, the rest of you in one of Riven's old, baggy shirts, and a pair of your pajama trousers. And his arms around you, of course, which was just the crème de la créme.

"Where's the popcorn?", you asked with a yawn, your eyes fixed on the tv. The two of you were watching a film tonight, which was unusual.

"You ate it all", he grinned. You scoffed at him.

"Fuck you, first of all", you muttered, "And also, give me the popcorn, I'm not watching the film without my popcorn."

Riven chuckled, but reached for it and gave it to you without further comments. Sometimes, you just felt like slapping him for those. But without them, he wouldn't be Riven, of course.

"You're such a bully sometimes", you pouted, already shoveling a handful of popcorn into your mouth.

You didn't have to turn to face him to know that he was raising his eyebrows at you.

"Oh, you don't mean that", he laughed, pulling you tighter against him, his lips now right next to your ear. You shuddered involuntarily, just making him laugh more.

"See, that's exactly what I mean", you complained, pushing away, grabbing the remote and pausing the film before you scrambled off the blanket and got up, seating yourself again on his lap, just the other way around this time. "You're an absolute bully."

The grin on his lips spread.

"Yeah?", he asked, his hands on your waist, pulling you closer towards him. "Am I?"

Without thinking about it, you bit your lip, watching his gaze travel down to your mouth, even though you'd really tried your best to stay serious, not to fall for him this quickly.

"Mhm", you breathed, meeting his eyes as he looked up again. That stupid grin was still on his lips. God, how you hated that grin. Well, you tried to convince yourself that you did. "The worst."

Hesitating no longer, you finally leaned forward, put a finger to his jaw and kissed him, dragging it along his cheek. His kisses were heavenly. You lost yourself in them every time.

"I love you", you mumbled against his lips, already pulling him in again.

"I thought I was a bully?", he laughed, barely the length of a single finger in between your faces.

You just rolled your eyes at him.

"Fuck you, Riven", you muttered, closing the distance again.

"Gladly", he whispered, meeting you halfway. Had you not already been kissing him, you would've hit him.

#winx riven #riven x reader #fate riven #riven winx #winx riven x reader #x reader #winx #fate winx saga #fate series #ftws

[princess-lilura]

"Cum" is such an ugly word.

I prefer Créme de la Penis.

#bd/sm daddy #bd/sm dom #bd/sm blog #bd/sm community #bd/sm relationship #bd/sm lifestyle #bd/sm dynamic #fill my holes #bd/sm brat #bd/sm breeding

[leleaulait]

dans mon vague souvenir (à vérifié quoi) plus tu lave et met des truc sur ton visage et du coup irrite t'a peau plus tu risque d'avoir d'accné. (et je crois que beaucoup de créme n'on aucun effet positif prouvé sur le sujet?)

Bah ouais j'ai l'impression aussi, sachant que j'ai une peau à chier de base, je peux pas mettre grand chose dessus ni faire de gommage par exemple, ça empire le truc même quand c'est fait par des pro, donc je rejoins ton avis. Ça m'évitera de mettre une fortune dans des crèmes bio à la con 🤷

#ask

[pesquisa-celebrity]

spoiler !!

Em um mundo altamente conectado, em que muitos preferem o online ao invés do offline, não deveria ter sido surpresa para ninguém o surgimento de pessoas de influência, capazes de formar opiniões públicas e influenciar grandes massas. Marcas fazem uso desses para aumentar sua presença de mercado, enquanto alguns indivíduos podem até mesmo aproveitar a fama de conhecidos para virarem famosos eles mesmos. Outros, por sua vez, dizem preferir os bastidores, quando na verdade dependem das ações e falas daqueles nos holofotes para construirem sua própria base de seguidores. A cidade de Seul, na Coréia do Sul não é uma exceção, e dizem as más línguas que, aqueles que têm o carisma ou até mesmo os visuais bons o suficiente e não se deram bem na indústria do entretenimento, acabam virando suas ambições para o âmbito da internet - algo que, de primeira impressão, parece ser mais fácil e certamente requer menos esforços para viralizar… Certo? Em uma hierarquia em constante mudança, como fazer para se estabelecer como a atração principal, o créme de la créme? Como influenciar as ovelhas e como se manter relevante? E quanto ao outro lado da câmera? Qual o preparo necessário para alguém chegar ao topo ou, melhor dizendo, em quantas pessoas você precisa passar por cima para tal? Quantos segredos são escondidos, rumores são criados e fotos são fabricadas? O que é preciso para se estabelecer como referência nessa nova indústria? Afinal, a verdadeira pergunta a ser feita é: até onde você está disposto para alcançar a fama?

Ficou curiosx? Quer mais? Vem cá na nossa ask!

#krp br #rp br #rpg br #pesquisa rp #krpbr