I love introducing new people to princess tutu because you have to be completely poker face yeah this fakir guy sucks and he has zero redeeming qualities 🙄👎 like you are not about to watch him go head over heels for a duck(!!) in real time

These hands may be bloody (but they're still mine and I'm still yours)

Blood nose and a crooked tongue (I always wanted to be someone) - series masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.3k

genre: fluff, sort of hurt/comfort

warnings: there's some talk of timmy being able to hurt reader, but the point is that he doesn't

a/n: hmmmmm actually this is a really good one enjoy <3

"You know, my front door works very well," you point out without looking up, your eyes still trained on the case file in your lap as you sit on your couch, listening to your balcony door click shut and heavy boots walk across your living room.

"Aw, but where's the fun in that?" Red Robin drawls as he settles on the arm of your couch, leaning over to try to look at your file before you snap it shut and throw it onto your coffee table.

"There are a lot of apartments to break into around here, Red. You should start branching out." You quip. 

"Those other apartments don't give me what I need."

"Which is…?" You prompt. He extends his hand, dropping a flash memory drive into your lap. You look at him witheringly. "I should start charging you."

"I don't have the time to keep eyes on all the leads I need to. Help me out a little." Red Robin smiles, a sharp grin that seems to glint in the darkness of your apartment.

"I did," you emphasize. "I've helped you out for weeks. When are you gonna have enough of me, Red?"

"You watch the news, I'm sure." He ignores your question. "The intel you're helping me get is doing real damage to the drops trade. You're making Gotham a better place. You're doing something good here."

"Should I pull out the pompoms or are you done with the cheerleading speech?" You shoot back dryly. 

"C'mon, please. Just… give me a little something. Help me out here," Red Robin slides off the arm of your couch so that he can kneel in front of you, propping his chin on his hand and looking at you imploringly through his mask.

"Don't grovel. It freaks me out," you say. He laughs. Your heart thumps at the sound in a way you hate. 

"Please…?"

"Fine. Just - get up, will you?" You snap as he pulls himself up to his feet. The way he stands in front of you, towering over your sitting form with his arms crossed menacingly, you faintly remember in the back of your head that you should be afraid of him. The moonlight from your windows lights his silhouette like a halo, his face hidden from you as you stare up at him. He could hurt me, you think. Why hasn't he, yet?

"I'm not going to hurt you," he says plainly.

"Excuse me?" You shift, wishing you had a mask of your own.

"You can say no to me. Give me back the drive and I'll leave. You'll never see me again." Your eyes flit over Red Robin's face at his words, wishing desperately that you could see his face so that maybe you could begin to guess what's going on in his mind. But he stays standing, shrouded in the darkness of night as he looks down on you, his posture straight and his muscles taut. He's… offended, you think maybe. Huh. 

"If I thought you were going to hurt me, I wouldn't be so apt to keep letting you into my home," you say softly. The muscles of his forearms tighten where his arms are crossed and you wince internally at the words you chose. Wrong answer, you think. Somewhere fuzzy in the back of your mind, you consider the possibility that you might make him angry enough that he does hurt you.

"Are you letting me in? Really? Could you find a way to keep me out if you wanted to?" Red Robin points out. You freeze, your mind spinning at the insinuation of his words - at the reminder that the two of you are inherently on uneven footing. No matter how much he tries to hide his teeth behind a wolfish grin, you are still a lamb led to slaughter every time he slips through your balcony door.

"Yes," you say stubbornly. "I would ask you to leave… and you would. That's all I ever need to keep you out." Your fingers tangle in the blanket that's thrown haphazardly over your couch as you wait for his response. Tell me I'm right, you think pleadingly. Tell me you'll listen when I tell you to stay or go. 

Red Robin's shoulders slouch, his posture deflating as he sags, bending to sit perched on the edge of your coffee table and look at you. He reaches forward with a slowness that has to be deliberate, using gentle fingers to brush a stray strand of hair from your face before he pulls back quickly.

"Yes," he says, and his voice rings with a conviction that you haven't heard from him before. "That's all you'll ever need. Say the word and I leave. Or… or say the word and I… stay." You release a breath at his words, leaning back to sag against your couch and look him up and down.

There's a silence that hangs between the two of you, bated breath held by Tim as he waits for your response. Please tell me to stay, he wants to beg. Please tell me you believe me. Please let me keep you safe. He watches as your eyes flit over him, mulling over his words as you make your decision. I'm a dog with a bloody muzzle, I know, but it will never be your blood on my teeth.

"Leave the drive with me," your words snap him out of his inner spiralling and Red Robin straightens, the wood of your coffee table legs shifting slightly under his weight. "I'll let you know when - if I find something."

He nods stiffly and stands, stepping over your legs easily to make his way back to your door. Your hand shooting out to grab onto his stops him in his tracks, though, and when he looks down at you, you pull back, opening your mouth to utter an apology. Before you can, though, he crouches in front of you again, reaching to take your hand back into his, his brow furrowed in sudden worry.

"Next time you come around…" you begin, and his heart thumps at the over-confident, teasing tone that's made its way back into your voice. "Don't sit on my coffee table like that. You'll break it. The couch arms, too. I have real chairs for a reason." Red Robin laughs and squeezes your hand before letting it go and standing, moving back towards your balcony door.

"I'll keep that in mind… for next time," he says, sliding the door open. Before he slips through it and into the darkness, though, he stops to look at you one last time.

"It's your fault, you know," he says plainly.

"What?"

"You never told me what your rate is."

"What are you talking about?" You sigh.

"I can't pay you… I don't know how much I owe you. You haven't told me what you're charging," he points out. You stare back at him, and although the shadows obscure his masked face once again, you find it doesn't bother you so much.

"...you don't owe me anything, Red. You never will," you say gently. He doesn't smile this time - instead, an emotional little noise gets punched out of his lungs before he nods his head, slipping out into the night and closing your door silently behind him. As you sit on the couch, turning the memory drive over in your hands, you hear the faint click of the door being locked again somehow from the outside and you smile to yourself. It doesn't seem too bad to have a wolf at your door some nights.

Demon Gaz, who's looking for a pretty little plaything to corrupt. Maybe a priests daughter, or someone who (somehow) has never sinned before.

<3

hopefully you enjoy this crime against christianity <3 cw dubcon, religion.

looking like such an angel, kyle finds his job incredibly easy. his beautiful brown eyes look like they're incapable of hiding a single sinful thought, never mind an entirely devilish being.

his smile is so bright the local god-fearing women think it could ward off any ill fate that could befall the town--if only they knew the reason for their downfall was their darling local charmer. 

you and kyle had been friends for a while now, he was new in town and took a shine to you immediately when you sat next to him in church one day.

from that moment on, he knew that he would make you his. 

it was easy to get you alone, under the guise of bible study, of reinforcing your father's teachings. the sessions started with quiet, companionable reading. kyle would keep you company, answer simple questions you had, and ask you about your life. 

no boys, no parties, no sin. 

he couldn't ask for a prettier, more innocent little thing to corrupt. 

your descent started slowly, in a way he couldn't have even planned. he didn't have to seek you out, as you followed him around like a lost lamb, unknowingly leading itself to slaughter. you tried to spend as much time with him as possible, obsessed with the way he looked at you like no one had before. 

you could sense his desire, even if you thought it to be something simple and innocent--the kind of love and admiration your parents' marriage was built from, the kind of devotion you had for your god. 

you had no idea of the lust that lay within--the corrupting, all-consuming need. kyle garrick was a selfish man, used to turning girls like you on their heads and feeding off their sins before moving on to the next. 

something about you was different. 

perhaps it was because he'd never met one so pure and untainted, or maybe it was because, unlike the others, you had no sense of self-preservation. it could be that you always had this look in your eyes like you wouldn't really mind if kyle led you astray, you'd follow him anyway. that was something he quickly became addicted to.

the poking and questioning followed soon after, kyle subtly guiding you to question the gospel, your father, and everything you've ever known, all for him. he pretended to struggle with his faith too, though he supposed it wasn't a lie, as once upon a time he had. 

you were quick to follow, enamored by your guardian angel in every way, believing he could never steer you wrong. 

after all, questioning is normal, natural, why we were given free will--that's what kyle always says. and with the sweet way he says it, so earnest and everything... there's no way the two of you are doing anything wrong.

so when he pulls you into his lap one day, bible in hand, you don't question it. when he asks your interpretation on a particular verse, and leads you to a certain conclusion, you don't question it. 

when he takes you on a walk through the churchyard flowers and kisses you under the flower-filled pergola, lips against yours like he's devouring you, you don't question it. 

from there, the rest is easy. coaxing you into sneaking out late at night, straight into his arms, getting you to give up your vow of chastity, your commitments to the church, your devotion to god.

instead, you worship him. his name falling from your lips like a prayer as he drives inside you, taking you for him forever. spoiling you for other men, breaking all your oaths. 

he stretches you out, shapes you to him, claims you with his cock, his cum, his fingers, the way his nails scraping down your body carves his name into your soul.

you cry out for him when your pretty mouth is on the end of his cock, you cry out for him when he's gone--tears beading in your eyes either way. 

and when they try to take you away from kyle, to make you 'see the light', 

all the lessons you've been taught about vengeance and grace fall away, and you search for a new beginning--disavowing your church, your family, your upbringing. 

and with your fall complete, when it's time for kyle to skip town? there's no way in hell he could leave you behind.

When he was getting talked into joining the secret government program,  he knew that he was signing his entire life away at this very moment.  Still in a daze after surviving Raccoon City,  he didn’t have it in him to argue his way out of it.  But then again,  they weren’t leaving him a choice.  It wasn’t up for debate.  If they let him go,  sooner or later he would have to be eliminated,  so from their standpoint,  the best-case scenario was recruiting him to forge him into a soldier,  who would be there at their every beck and call;  no questions asked.  Leon was young,  impressionable,  and most importantly,  bizarrely skilled  (  not to say suspiciously  )  for someone who just graduated from the academy.  Even if they were to let him live his life as if nothing happened,  it would be quite a waste to allow such a flourishing talent to end up in some department,  where he’d most likely end up handling petty crimes.  They could shape him how they desired and so they had,  successfully.

From the beginning,  Kennedy was a lamb sent to slaughter.  Somehow,  he always comes back in one piece.  Almost unscathed.  Drenched in the metallic stench of blood  &  merely donning a brand new layer of self-loathing.  As long as he’s doing his job and accomplishing the missions one by one,  they don’t care.  In truth,  he is all apart.  Always a single step away from completely losing control over everything around him,  over himself.  So he resorts to the vices within reach to keep pushing himself forward,  because there’s no real escape that would finally cut him free.  Does he want to be free,  though?  He’s like a dog chained,  familiarised with the perimeter of his enclosure.  He doesn’t know much beyond it,  he isn’t too sure what’s behind the fence they built around him.  Existing in a world constructed on scant assumptions and mangled unreliable memories,  being free is a concept and not a realistic perspective for the future.  Sometimes he sees more than they want him to;  he keeps it to himself and he stays silent.  For the false idea of the greater good.

They engineered a toy soldier.  Disposable.  Just another number in their database,  a pawn tailored for their high demands and elaborate strategies.  They don’t need him to be a person,  they don’t want him to be a person.  If the toy soldier breaks,  he will be glued back together again  ( and worse comes to worst,  they’ll put him on stronger meds ).  Rinse and repeat.  One of their best agents,  sure,  but not the best.  Many others can come to take his place,  be the next super agent.  However,  his experiences  &  knowledge relating to what happened back in 1998 will always be the factor that sets him apart from the rest.  And they have no doubts that he will keep fighting.  It was never about the glory and the meaningless medals…  Guilt makes the best soldiers.  He’s wearied and tired of this enduring battle leading nowhere.  Leon doesn’t want to fight anymore,  but he has to  —  he doesn’t have a choice.

Could we get some Lamb head-cannons?

Little eepy gets some headcanons! I use He/Him pronouns for the lamb, but in canon the lamb is non-binary as to fit the player of the game!

Warnings: None

This is one BUSY little lamb. He is always doing something, no one can remember the last time they saw him sit for more than 10 minutes. But not needing to sleep and running an actively crusading cult would do that I suppose.

Though he might be short in stature, his aura from the red crown always makes normal people take a step back. Any being that is more powerful doesn’t have the flight response, they are always curious. The lamb is used to it, but it always comes handy in crusades!

I think that the lamb is either extremely vengeful about the slaughter of his kind or has completely accepted that he has a new life and has moved on. And there is not an in between. Given his personality depends on the player that is playing him, I feel like the two sides the game leads you would lead to a vengeful lamb, or a lamb fully prepared to reach God hood and forget his mortal life for good.

Acts 8:26. “Now an angel of the Lord said to Philip, “Rise and go toward the south to the road that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.“ This is a desert place.” (ESV)

Acts 8:26-38. “Now an angel of the Lord said to Philip, “Go south to the road—the desert road—that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.” So he started out, and on his way he met an Ethiopian eunuch, an important official in charge of all the treasury of the Kandake (which means “queen of the Ethiopians”). This man had gone to Jerusalem to worship, and on his way home was sitting in his chariot reading the Book of Isaiah the prophet. The Spirit told Philip, “Go to that chariot and stay near it.” Then Philip ran up to the chariot and heard the man reading Isaiah the prophet. “Do you understand what you are reading?” Philip asked. “How can I,” he said, “unless someone explains it to me?” So he invited Philip to come up and sit with him. This is the passage of Scripture the eunuch was reading: “He was led like a sheep to the slaughter, and as a lamb before its shearer is silent, so he did not open his mouth. In his humiliation he was deprived of justice. Who can speak of his descendants? For his life was taken from the earth.” The eunuch asked Philip, “Tell me, please, who is the prophet talking about, himself or someone else?” Then Philip began with that very passage of Scripture and told him the good news about Jesus. As they traveled along the road, they came to some water and the eunuch said, “Look, here is water. What can stand in the way of my being baptized?” And he gave orders to stop the chariot. Then both Philip and the eunuch went down into the water and Philip baptized him.” (NIV)

“Tell Me, Please” By Kurt Selles (Today Devotions):

“At Cove Mountain on the Appalachian Trail I had shelter from an all-night rain. The next morning I was back on the trail. No one needed to tell me where to go. I headed north, as I did every other day of my three-week trek.

Philip, however, whom the Spirit called in our story today, had instructions on where to go. An angel of the Lord told Philip to go south to the desert road leading from Jerusalem to Gaza. There Philip met an Ethiopian official who was returning home from Jerusalem. The Spirit then led Philip to stay near the man and to help him understand a passage he was reading from Isaiah. Philip explained that the passage was about Jesus, the Son of God, who came to die for our sin, and then Philip baptized the Ethiopian, just as the man asked him to do.

Through his Spirit and the Word, the Lord still commands us everyday. God calls us to walk in his ways, loving the Lord with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and loving our neighbors as ourselves.

Does God speak to us in other ways, such as the way he spoke to Philip? God certainly can speak to us in dramatic ways, but more often the Spirit of God speaks to us in quiet, subtle ways through his Word and with the help of other believers (like Philip). We should always be following God’s Word and listening for his voice, especially as he nudges us to share the love of Jesus.

Lord Jesus, help us to listen for your voice and to share your love with the people we meet every day. Amen.”

One day, the church decided to open the window

i'm a writer. sometimes i even write things. when they're not very good, i put them on tumblr. read, my children, read.

Is there anything I would not give to have you well, my heart? You think I pile on the praise because I am expecting a reward. Can't you see it? Haven't you ever caught that smile in a mirror? You are here already. Now I only need to keep on being worthy of you. It is so often viewed as a desperate effort. Nothing about loving you is hard. I have been told only the falsity is easy, the surface, the self-gain. I have found you the most yielding thing to hold in a universe of possibilities and I do not think I'm missing anything. Maybe I can't see the hard parts because for me, the joy's in the labor. I am ecstatic to do the work. If you need me to carry you, that's just more time spent with you in my arms. In what world would that be taxing? What version of my heart could ever say no? You are a dear little lamb and with care I lead you away from the slaughter. I don't forbid you glancing back. There's things worth seeing amongst all the rubble and bodies. Love once resided there. Now it has moved. We are walking towards its new house with no hurry in our steps. For all my care, I trust you. You are breakable. I've put you together before. Fragile never meant a thing in need of locking away. Cages are harsh. My hands are soft, around your throat they remain soft, they are warm, they are all you know of the new world. They are all you need to. All love ultimately corrupts, makes you fight against what is palatable, what comforts and what sells the lies. If I love you in a broken world and I'm tired, that does not place a duty on you to start being kissed by the splinters. It is on me to heal the earth, to mold the clay into something that will not wound what I am bored of tending to. Could you trust me if I told you there is more in your heart to attract the butterflies that carry you through this all? Be not afraid. The cocoon is a bed to melt into. The wings weigh air. Metamorphosis only hurts if you kick. Come back for me before you fly off, well-loved dove. Promise me a soft resurrection. Promise me you will not cut yourself on every shard of stained glass. The martyr needs blood, you say. The martyr has plenty of his own. Shed your tears, whether crystal or crimson, on a softer kingdom. I can swear on all kinds of tomorrows. I can swear on one that will not see you afraid. On a hundred that will see you happy. On any and every that will see you loved.

Hey! So since you want prompts, got a bit of angsty one for you. Maybe you could write about a point where for some reason Tav/durge/or an origin character isn't able to bring back a dead companion. Withers refuses to help, the revive scrolls aren't working, no divine help occurs. You can pick the companion (lover, friend, friends with benefits, go wild lol), but maybe explore either what leads up to it or the aftermath. If you want something more light let me know and I can think of something else

oh I love the way you think!!! thank u for this request!!!

I decided to write this about my wild sorcerer durge Salome :) also this was supposed to be a drabble and it's a bit longer than anticipated because I made it a little fluffy at the end (oops)

It all happened so fast.

Salome and her party were approaching the mountain pass, on their way to finally enter the Shadow Cursed Realms. Lae’zel saw a group of githyanki, her people, her own kind, and rushed to their side. She knew they would help direct them to the creché, to get the damned tadpoles out of their heads. 

She trusted her people to lead her to safety.

Instead, they slaughtered her, like a lamb on an altar.

"Only in death are the infected cleansed."

These were the words she heard as the image of the githyanki warrior piercing Lae'zels heart with her sword replayed over and over in her mind.

“Lae’zel! No!”

Salome found herself falling to her knees in front of her companion’s corpse. Around them, the githyanki that had turned their backs on Lae’zel lay strewn about, having met their own grim fates. Usually, the alluring smell of blood and the sight of guts would have her urges running rampant, begging her to play with these new-found toys scattered all around her.

But that urge never came. She only felt the urgency to bring Lae’zel back.

“Shadowheart, come quick! Please!” The half-drow commanded, hearing heavy footsteps coming from behind. The cleric was already conjuring up a spell, the familiar blue glow in between her fingers.

“Already on it.” She replied, her anxiety straining her voice.

Shadowhert knelt beside Lae’zel, muttering a few words under her breath as she released the magic into the githyanki fighter’s body. The blue light encapsulated her body, lifting it slightly up in the air before she fell back to the ground with a sickly thud.

But she didn't wake up.

With a furrowed brow, she tried again, speaking the incantation a little louder this time. Just like before, she was met with the same outcome.

Nothing.

“Dammit, it’s not working!”

“What do you mean, it’s not working?!” Salome yelled.

“I-I don’t know…” Shadowheart stammered, her hands shaking, “My revivify spell has never failed me before…”

“Nine Hells below… Does anyone have a scroll we can use?” Salome looked upwards to face her remaining living companions.

Astarion and Shadowheart shook their heads begrudgingly.

“Gods above…”

Salome grabbed La’zel’s shoulders and shook her aggressively.

“Wake up, dammit! We need you! I need you! Please!”

As she heard her cries echoing in the mountain pass, she felt the tears spilling out of her eyes, hot and salty, trailing down her cheeks. She may not remember much of her past life before the tadpole was put in her skull, but she knows she’d never cried over the death of anyone. She’s seen so many people lose their lives, and was also the reason others lost theirs, so why would she be shedding tears now?

Why was she so devastated?

“We need to get back to camp, as soon as possible.” Shadowheart’s voice pulled her back from her thoughts. “Withers should be able to help bring her back.”

Salome wiped the wetness from her face, nodding her head in agreement. “You’re right,” she said, “if there’s one thing that weird skeleton can do, it’s bring her back to us.”

The sorcerer was not a strong woman, but with all the adrenaline running through her, she was able to pick up Lae’zel’s limp body and throw it over her shoulder. As quickly as they possibly could, the party made their way back to camp, praying to whatever god would hear them for a miracle.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What do you mean, you can’t bring her back?!”

Salome didn’t mean to shout at Withers, especially after the sun had already set and her party members were getting ready for bed, but she couldn’t help it. He was her only hope of bringing Lae’zel back to life, and he refused her wishes.

“Their soul is in a place even I cannot peer into.” He stoically replied. 

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

Salome fell to her knees once more, burying her face in her hands. There was nothing she could do, it was all out of her control. It was hopeless. Her body shuddered as she sobbed, the loss of her companion almost too much for her to bear. 

“Why… Lae’zel…”

Withers looked down at Salome as she wept, his eyes gazing upon her with a twinge of empathy.

“Pray tell, Salome, why art thou so troubled?”

She paused, pulling her face away from the palms of her hands. 

“Thine Urge yearns to end the lives of many, yet thou shed tears over your fallen comrade?”

“I… I don’t know why, Withers.” Salome whispered, looking up at the skeleton, “I’ve never… felt this way before.”

“Hast thou ever had… a friend?”

A friend?

The thought was almost laughable to the half-drow.

“I doubt anyone would want to be my friend, Withers.” She confessed, softly. “Not with these urges plaguing my conscience.”

He shook his head with a knowing smile.

“Thou hath thine companions right here in thy camp.” He gestured towards Astarion and Shadowheart’s tents. “They would not stay with thee if they did not find thou as a friend. They trust thee with their own lives.”

She sniffled as she gazed over at their tents, slowly realizing that he may be right.

“Did… did Lae’zel..?”

“Of course.” He replied, “And that is why thou heart aches. Thou hath lost someone close to thee, a true friend.”

“A true friend…” she repeated. 

Salome had never thought she could have a friend before. 

And now, she realized she had friends all along.

“Now, go,” Withers ordered, “rest. Come morning, let you and your companions grieve your loss. Then, take care of thou companions on your journey. Let the loss of the githyanki be a lesson to you.”

She sighed, standing to her feet once more. “Thank you, Withers. I…”

“Say no more,” he interrupted. “Thou thanks is enough.”

With a small smile, Salome nodded to the skeleton, and turned to make her way to her tent for the evening.

Her heart was still broken that she was unable to bring back Lae’zel. The loss weighed heavily on her, and she wished there was a way she could have stopped the githyanki warriors, prevented them from fighting, even found allies from their forces. She would not be able to sleep that night, imagining all sorts of scenarios that could have saved her fallen friend.

But come morning, she would devote herself to make sure she kept both Astarion and Shadowheart safe, no matter the cost.

Новый тип человека

Вырос в России.

Баран двадцать первого века

В России всесилен.

Хочет - идёт с войною на Украину.

Хочет - находит в поле свою могилу.

Слушаться пастуха -

Задача баранья.

Вот и ведёт баранов пастух на закланье.

Чтобы из них сделать кровавые тушки,

Осуществляя планы свои пастушьи.

Вспомним Германский фашизм - там всё это было.

Только могила может исправить дебила.

И никакого особо ума не надо,

Чтоб из народа сделать послушное стадо.

Вам баранину с перцем

Или же солью?

Пастух по имперски

Рецепт шашлыка мусолит.

Новый тип человека

Вырос в России.

Баранов нового века

Там в изобилии.

#####################

A new type of person

Grew up in Russia with syndrome of Down.

Twenty-first century fool

Omnipotent now and coming to town.

Kind of fool that may go with the war against Ukraine.

Kind of fool that may dig in gunfire his dirty grave.

Sheep main task is listen to the shepherd orders

So the shepherd happily leads sheeps to the slaughter.

In order to make bloody carcasses out of them,

He carries out his sly shepherd's plans.

Remember fascism in Germany - it happened in the past.

Only the grave can fix a moron applying the dust.

And no special mind is really needed,

To make an obedient herd out of the people.

Do you want lamb with the salt or pepper?

New kebab recipe is in action by imperial shepherd.

A new type of person

Grew up over years in Russia.

Donkeys of the twenty-first century

Triggered off by the shepherd in action.

for asphodel angels. all for one is a hero? does that mean Shigaraki is a hero too? and what is 1-As whole thing?

All For One is a hero in the Asphodel Angels au and he goes by the hero name Athos, based on the Three Musketeers!

His "official" Quirk is called "Roulette", a Quirk that is said to randomize different effects at random times. It does it spontaneously and can range from incredibly powerful to mildly powerful. It definitely isn't another Quirk entirely and definitely isn't related to the cases where people lost their Quirk on a whim. Nooooo. Definitely not.

Of course, just because All For One- sorry- Athos, is now a hero, doesn't mean he isn't less of an asshole as he once was. He enjoys watching the public flock to him like the lambs they are, unaware that they are simply being lead away for the slaughter. He always did have an idea in mind but this? Oh this is so much better than he ever thought it would be.

----

For Shigaraki, yes. He is a hero as well and his name in this universe is Shigaraki Tenko. A young one who is up and coming and a protege for Athos. I'm sure that won't go wrong whatsoever.

He's still very much Shigaraki but he's slightly more chill here. I say slightly because several civilians have been reported to cry after he saved them. It's his feral vibes and him being rude and blunt. He means well he just doesn't have tact. He's good at his job though so that's great.

Backstory remains very much the same with some more...minor adjustments and a new hero to look up to. Was his childhood happy? Eh. Happy as it could be considering he accidentally killed his entire family. But he has to say that his UA years and his time as a Pro Hero is one of the best years of his life.

----

Class 1-A's whole thing is complicated. They're villains yeah but they would probably also argue that they are just doing what needs to be done. The hero world is sick. It's all sick and they believe they're doing society a justice by getting rid of those corrupt heroes and shady businesses. And so they made the Children’s Angels. An organization made to expose the injustices and right them.

They mean well it's just. They’re very violent and destructive in the ways to do it. The media is still not allowed to talk about the grape incident.

Said methods include: Murder, “Accidents”, Blackmail, Heists, Destruction, Fear Tactics, Breaking And Entering, Threats, and much much more in terms of crime.

All of their civilian identities are kept in the dark and no one knows who they are exactly. There are many theories on who they currently may be but no concrete evidence.

Now of course, because Class 1-A are the- ahem villains, there obviously have to be someone to oppose them right?

So who would be better than- Wait a minute those aren’t the Protagonists Athos was expecting. All of them are some sort of flavor of neurodivergent and mentally ill. In fact three of them aren’t heroes at all.

Well, it seems that group won’t be the “Heroes” after all. Although it would be rather interesting.

You have the grandson of Shimura Nana, the eldest son of the Number 2 hero, the Sidekick with a weak mutation quirk, the UA alumni with a rather nice Cloud Quirk and far too many secrets, a Hero with major identity issues, a Third Year Support Student with a craving for blood, a Criminal charged with Accessory to Theft who sticks around to laugh at her friend, and a World-Class Thief who is currently on parole of all things.

Yes they won’t be the heroes that would strike the Children’s Angels down but Athos has to admit. It is incredibly entertaining watching them flail around trying to carve their own place in the world.

Not to get meta on main, but I was thinking about tboi Repentance's endings- both of them, but mainly the polaroid one. This isn't what I'm working with for MY blog's canon- but it's I thought I had for the actual potential Isaac canon. Needless to say, SPOILERS FOR REPENTANCE. ALSO, LONG RAMBLE AHEAD.

I'm assuming everyone who clicked on the read more, knows the ending. You go back down, fight Dogma, internalize Dogma (very subtle Edmund (but actually such cool visuals, thank you Edmund)) and then fight the Beast. The ending has this bright light cracking from the sky, the beast is vanquished, Isaac floats up and goes back through his memories and dies. Pretty explicit. Except then his dad asks him if he REALLY wants his story to end like this. Now, I've seen people say "that's it, Isaac is dead and in heaven, be satisfied". But I'm a bit of a dreamer and I like to be optimistic. Plus, I have seen a theory going around- namely that the "crack in the sky" is the chest opening, bright light shining on the poor Isaac, who gets picked up in his delirious state, remembering it all. His dad was the one to find him and vanquish the beast (holy father vs the beast, who's model wears the clothes of Isaac's mom) Can't take credit, but it's a good theory! Working with it all being just a story, that has made me think- what if Isaac's dad got the story the same way we did? Think about it. The expansions. Layers of trauma Isaac first told a very simplified version of the story in the vanilla game. Pretty easy- Only six characters! The final boss was ONLY mom. Isaac opened up about his mother being scary to him- to be expected. His dad let him tell his story, over and over again- already pulling the first few layers of trauma back. "I find a wooden spoon." "What does the wooden spoon do, Isaac...?" "It makes me run faster."

Cut forward. Wrath of the Lamb. Isaac has both grown more confident in his creative abilities, as well as in the safe space of the story time. More items, with more implication. Naturally- not all of them were deliberately trauma related, some Isaac just put in because he thought they'd look cool or do something fun! But, some where. New floors. Shoel and Cathedral. "There's evil. I must defeat it. I'm just not sure if it's in me (cathedral) or out of me (sheol). There's anger (Samson) in me, I'm not sure who to aim it at." I think it's a fair call to assume Isaac has TROUBLE expressing anger, seeing it as destructive- but not outright evil, just like Samson wasn't evil. Which is a good thing! 

Rebirth Azazel. So Isaac IS afraid of the anger in him. Afraid of being evil. Strength, but at what cost? But there's Lazarus and Eden. Hope to be remade? Rebirth in general feels optimistic! Isaac is starting to reflect on his time and the very, VERY painful process of thinking back and trying to sort something. The good times and the bad times. It's easy for abused kids to think "my mom was SOMETIMES nice, so she must have loved me and I was the problem". It's fucking TOUGH. But Isaac is allowed to go down both routes of thinking without punishment or being lead. Polaroid, the ending of "it was all my fault, my family was good, I did something wrong", going up and meeting his maker, thinking about the suffocation and wishing for it all to have been different, HIM having been different. Negative, the ending of "my family was the problem". Meeting the lamb (wolf in sheep's clothing? Perhaps another visage for his mother, or him condemning the facade, or maybe condemning having been a lamb to the slaughter). This fantasy ends with him imagining about disappearing, but from the outside, wishing that it leads to sadness and pain and that her troubles be many. Also, Lost being his sense of powerlessness- and honestly, the way the lost was discovered? Couldn't be more perfect for this theory. The lost is this vulnerable creature, fragile, needing help, needing luck, not even helped by things that are usually good! Like perhaps a kid would feel when therapy (that they're told will help them) does nothing for them and makes them uncomfortable... And then the Lost being MINED for? FORCED out? MADE to appear? Huge step back. Canon or not, the way Isaac's Lost appeared was harmful to Isaac, leaving him even more vulnerable.

>I'm don't want this to be too long, so I'm just going to touch up on the later parts, PLEASE feel free to add to this with more in depths analysis, reblog or just in the notes. I'd gladly elaborate myself to any questions about this

Afterbirth(+) But yeah, with time, Lost got the D4 and a Holy Mantle. Which is good, despite the way it did happen, Isaac regained a bit more confidence, even at his lowest. And now we finally come however to Isaac REALLY making it out, REALLY facing things. Though- I do argue- it also shows Isaac off to have more FUN with the game! Greed mode is VERY video-gamey. Lilith is VERY gimmicky. He made them, enjoyed them, the thought about them. Greed being so prominent- and so closely associated with Isaac via an ARG- just shows the next breakthrow. Isaac learned to access his fear of himself as a sinner. An actually vile creature, a mangled corpse full of spiders. Not gonna go too in-depth, like I said, but sometimes abused kids can feel "greedy" for wanting better from  their parents. Wanting more. Feeling need. Isaac tells his father that he really sees himself not only as a sinner and demon (like Azazel), but as an outright MONSTER. A mindless creature. A mob. Hush here would suppression. Being silenced. The part of him still buried beneath. It scares him, there's so much still buried that wants OUT, wants to SCREAM, wants to UNLEASH. Meeting your own suppressed memories is terrifying. But it leads to Delirium- that is where Isaac puts the pieces together. First mangled, but he's putting it together. Finally. All these different places and thoughts, and feelings, a whole. A jumbled whole, but whole nonetheless. Which then leads to:

Repentance Okay, just to wrap it up nicely, I'll address only the bosses. Mother - I don't think Mother was ever supposed to depict mom in the way Edmund implemented it. But what Isaac created was a coping attempt- gone horribly wrong His mother saw his way of coping and punished him, like she punished him for coping with Bumbo. Maybe not malicious. Maybe she was just scared. She wasn't the best mother, but I think she loved him and fear+helplessness made her do terrible, terrible things. Regardless: she punished him for copying, for pulling parallels, causing the repression in the first place. But now he's safe. Allowed to cope. The memory gives him strength about how different things now are. And then the Beast- which I think is actually Isaac coming to peace with what his mother did. The good and bad. He extends empathy towards his mother WHILE being angry with her. Like her, he allows Dogma to consume him, fear of this giant horrid creature to show up, a creature he knows nothing else than to destroy, even if he knows he probably cannot (without help). And yet, the beast is also his mother, the edges of her dress, a vile creature chasing him, so overwhelming and scary and so self-destructive, that you almost want to feel bad for it, if it didn't totally deserve this. And then- the end. And it's an end he doesn't have to write alone. That he can retry. That he can fall asleep to. His dad helping to tell the story. It's hard to hate someone you love. Especially if it's your mom. Especially if you're a child. Especially if she's your whole world and stayed with you when your dad left. It's hard to hate someone you've seen good in. That you've seen unfair suffering afflicted to. That you still want to be around and help. It's painful to let yourself be consumed by hatred. By fear. It's painful to try and destroy all the good memories you made. It's agonizing to try to denounce all you used to admire and what used to help you. You don't need to. Isaac, in the end, didn't need to. There was a bit of both in him. Understanding. Perhaps forgiveness. Righteous anger. And fear. He explained it to his dad He explained it to himself He learned about what it's like to be bad. To be good. To be fickle. He came to his own conclusion, because his father was patient and let him tell the same stories, over and over and over- until Isaac felt good enough to tell something new. I really wish that is how the story goes. Healing takes long. Ten years. Or perhaps longer. For the full story to be told. >Well, in Isaac's case certainly less, seeing how young he sounds- but my point stands. Layers... patience and allowing someone to tell THEIR story at THEIR pace, without interjecting. Sometimes that is all we need.

I knew I needed to go to this as soon as I heard that Shadows Fall, who had regrouped in 2021 after an indefinite hiatus that lasted seven years and saw drummer Jason Bittner join Flotsam and Jetsam and eventually Overkill, and lead guitar GOD Jonathan Donais join Anthrax, intended on performing their 2004 CLASSIC, The War Within in its entirety. That was fucking huge news! But for those of you who might be clueless, let’s discuss why! The Importance of The War Within The War Within, the band’s fourth album and third with vocalist Brian Fair, is the most important album in the band’s entire catalog. It was released on the heels of their previous album, 2002’s The Art of Balance, which went on to sell over 100,000 copies in a time when album sales were steadily declining. You bet your ass I was one of those 100,000 people who actually bought the fucking record! I even saw Shadows Fall live for the first time a year later during an Ozzfest off-date. Having come from the New Wave of American Heavy Metal scene that was largely based in the Northeast and spawned bands such as Aftershock and Overcast – those two bands being the roots of Shadows Fall and especially Killswitch Engage – alongside All That Remains (Phil Labonte was actually the vocalist on Shadows Fall’s 1997 debut, Somber Eyes to The Sky), God Forbid (more on that band later!), Mastodon and Lamb of God, the sound was largely a mix of Hardcore breakdowns and Metallic intensity. Unfortunately, this became Metalcore. But Shadows Fall were different. Via Brain Fair’s roots in Overcast, especially after he joined Shadows Fall for their second album, 2000’s Of One Blood, the hardcore influence could be heard. But thanks to those riffs that scream Iron Maiden AND Morbid Angel, along with Jon Donais’ Randy Rhoads meets Zakk Wylde lead guitar style, they were far more Metal than Hardcore. By the time The War Within was released, the press at large had been calling them the next Metallica for two years, thanks to The Art of Balance. With TWW, the guitars were even stronger than on the last album, the drums were harder hitting, the production was clearer, and the song writing was even stronger. The album had debuted at #28 on the Billboard charts. I was a first day buyer, taking to bus to Sam Goody right after I finished with class for the day. It’d earned them sales of almost 400,000 copies – a FIRST for Century Media Records! – their first main stage slot on the next year’s Ozzfest (the last time I saw them live), and eventually, a major label deal with Atlantic Records. I still remember driving from Staten Island to Starland Ballroom to see Mastodon in May of 2005. I was on Rt 9, driving over the water, WSOU (more on them momentarily) on the radio, when the DJ announced that The War Within had sold 200,000 copies. The was incredible to hear; it meant a lot to the fans, I’m sure, and it meant a lot to the underground Metal scene, especially with Lamb of God releasing their major label debut nine months prior, and Mastodon very close to signing their own major label deal. The Show The show, I’m pretty sure was organized by WSOU, the top college station in terms of playing underground Heavy Metal for DECADES. My first exposure to WSOU in the early months of 1997 happened by mistake. I was looking for another station when I came across this one station that happened to be blasting Death Metal, the likes of which my 7th grade, dumbass self had never heard before and I’d assumed that this had to be the station. It wasn’t, but I clearly still listened up until they were forced to change their format right at the beginning of 2002. They eventually were able to revert back to their prior format; but they had to fight hard to make it happen. It’s been my first show at Starland since I saw Zakk Sabbath in 2017. And before that, the last time I’d been there was most likely the 2008 Summer Slaughter tour, with such a shitty lineup that I totally forgot that it was the last time I saw The Black Dahlia Murder! But I spent a good thre...

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A Hungry Heart by jacaranda_bloom (E) word count: 27,601 Harry Styles, florist and Great British Bake Off contestant, loves many things. He loves his flower shop, he loves baking, and there’s also that little crush he has on pop star Louis Tomlinson. But when Louis arrives on set as the surprise guest judge, Harry’s worlds collide. Throw in a cup of cuteness, a teaspoon of teasing, and a pinch of pining, and there’s all the ingredients for an epic love story, or absolute chaos.

7 Up by cherrystreet (E) word count: 51,973 Very loosely based on the British TV Show "The Up Series" and somewhat inspired by "Something I Need by One Republic." We follow Harry & Louis in an interview setting every 7 years. They fall apart & come together, their lives & emotions recorded. Harry calls it a time capsule. Louis calls it a pain in the arse.

This Wicked Game by cherrystreet (E) word count: 70,010 An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

we are ghosts amongst these hills by orphan_account (M) word count: 84,172 Harry spontaneously buys a house in Yorkshire because the universe, or fate, keeps leading him to it. What he didn’t know, is that his new house comes with a past that seems to be mysteriously tied to his own life. Before he knows it he finds himself travelling back in time, stuck in the middle of a century old love story. Featuring Louis as a farmer with a passion for gardening, Zayn as the heir to the local manor, Niall as a pub owner with a secret, and a truly underappreciated Liam. Based on Mariana by Susanna Kearsley

Home For The Holiday by Larrysmomfics (M) word count: 86,789 Harry needs to run away. In an attempt to get out of his own routine and his own life for a while and get over his extremely toxic ex, he decides on an emotionally fueled whim to do a house swap with someone in LA who's itching to get out of his own routine and get away from his best friend and business partner for a bit. In a quirky turn of events the best friend Liam was so desperate to get away from happens to be the most lovely, kind, and beautiful man Harry's ever met. What ensues is a self healing journey with the help of a found family, a wonderful man who becomes his home, and above all love. OR A "The Holiday" inspired AU where Harry meets Louis after agreeing to swap houses with a stranger on the internet for three weeks over the holidays.

House of the Rising Sun by Itsmotivatingcara (M) word count: 101,928 “It wasn’t me.” Louis said after they’d walked a block in silence, Harry glanced over in surprise but this time Louis didn’t meet his eyes, instead looking ahead. The moonlight cast shadows under his striking cheekbones, and not for the first time, Harry thought he was eerily beautiful - though immortality would likely have a hand in that. “It was supposed to be, but I got caught up in something else.” “Something more important than murdering a witch” Harry snarked, “Will wonders never cease.” He felt Louis’ irritation before he spoke again, “Careful, little lamb.” He murmured. Little lamb. Harry despised the nickname Louis had given him when they’d first met nine months prior. Little Lamb to the slaughter, Louis had said mockingly. Or The Originals AU that no one asked for.

got the sunshine on my shoulders by hattalove (E) word count: 124,165 five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn't have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone. now, harry has everything he could possibly want: he's rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he's forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who's spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him. (or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama.)

Take My Breath Away by RealityBetterThanFiction (E) word count: 153,658 There is a prestigious school in the British Royal Navy classified as Premier Delta - or as it is known by its flyers, 1D. These select pilots are an elite set of Naval lieutenants who are trained in the skill of aggressive aerial combat. They are instruments of war, trained in times of peace. They are dogfighters, relentless and fearless in their mission to protect their beloved country. From their lofty vantage, they are always watching, waiting, and ready to lay it all on the line.Lt. Harry Styles, call sign Sparrow, is a prodigy when it comes to flying. The owner of an unrivaled Naval pedigree, being a pilot was always written in the stars for Harry. With his trusty RIO, Lt. Niall Horan, Harry has made an unprecedented ascension in the ranks of the Naval aerial combat elite, and has been recruited to the esteemed Premier Delta flight school, carrying on his family’s legacy. What he finds there are unexpected friendships, perilous challenges, and something beyond what he ever thought possible. Because as his father had always told him, before the great Captain Styles went tragically missing in combat, you don’t fall in love with the sky, you fall in love with what keeps you on the ground. - Top Gun AU

my heart is breathing for this moment in time by usedtothebeach (E) word count: 159,845 When Louis first saw Harry at the 2010 X Factor Auditions, he thought he was watching a peculiarly special stranger. But Harry has known Louis ever since he was five years old. Because Louis has a rare genetic disorder that causes him to Time Travel to important moments in his past and in his future - and to Harry, always to Harry. When they're put into a band together, it seems like everything Harry has been waiting and wishing for has finally come true. Except for the small fact that Louis doesn't know that Harry is in love with him- that Harry's always been in love with him. Fate, it would seem, is just getting started. A story about growing up and growing together, and the impossible love that makes it all worthwhile.

The Afterlife Fic (The Best I Ever Had in My Entire Life... Or Death) by LovingCup (E) word count: 491,253 AU- After dying in an accident, Louis Tomlinson arrives in the Afterlife. Not Heaven and not Hell, Louis finds himself in Judgment City UK: a pristine city where the food and entertainment are divine and the newly departed must undergo a Review of their life on Earth to determine if they have lived a life worthy of advancement in the universe, or if they must be returned to Earth to be born again in a new body. On his first full day in the Afterlife, Louis meets Harry Styles, and the two have an instant connection. Over the course of their Reviews, they fall in love and begin to find that even though they didn't know each other on Earth, they are nonetheless linked to one another in perfect ways. Both are hoping to move ahead in the universe together, but they are challenged with the threat of separation if one or both of them is sent back to Earth to be born again. Loosely based on the Albert Brooks' film "Defending Your Life" starring Brooks and Meryl Streep. One scene in particular is drawn from the movie, but other than that scene and the general concept, this story veers far away from the film. There were no blowies in the 1991 movie, I swear!

@mal0dramatic continued from here

dolly had one thought when she found out that her ‘husband’ was taking another young wife. peace. she felt a tremendous sense of guilt because she remembered what it was like to be in their shoes. but at least she wouldn’t be the youngest newest thing in his eyes. she’d be put on the back burner and given some reprieve from his disgusting desires. his nightly need for her would dwindle and the burden would fall on someone new. for five long years, she had been the apple of his eye and he’d been the bane of her existence. eventually, his eyes started to wander just as every man's did. the more children she bore for him and the older she got, the more he lost interest in her. she wasn’t stupid and she knew this wasn’t the end. her childbearing days were far from over, she was still very young and fertile, and she’d bring many more babies into the world. the celestial rising brethren demanded it of her and it was her obligation to them and the lord. it didn’t mean she wanted it. she hated it and felt nothing but the same disgust that mallory felt towards the life they lived. it was the fear not only of god and the threat of hell but of david himself that kept her in line and compliant. she just wanted a break and this was what the new wife would provide her with.

there was an internal struggle in dolly that she tried to ignore and that was her sexuality. she never desired men - even those that were her own age - and there was always a detachment to her children. she'd never wanted to a man or a mother to his children. there was always a void she couldn’t fill with anything that she was told was supposed to bring her contentment. marriage, motherhood, bonds with her sister wives, church. none of those things made her feel anything but emptiness. she knew that mallory felt it too and for that reason, she was more drawn to her than she had ever been to another person in her life. the more time they spent together, the more those unnatural feelings towards the other woman grew. she tried to pray for god to forgive her and lead her on the right path. that never worked and she was convinced it was just another lie fed to her. each prayer muttered fell on deaf ears and she desired what she couldn’t have even more. she just tried to go through the motions because it was all she could do. 

the brunette looked out the window when she saw mallory’s eyes divert from the chore they were completing. the way that vile man kissed that poor girl made her hate him even more. it made her relive the misery he'd put her through. that child was just another lamb for the slaughter to be dragged into david’s web of misery. blue eyes were wide with fear when her fellow wife spoke up in a way that would get her beaten or worse if she was ever heard. dolly immediately moved towards the window to make sure it was closed. “be careful what you say. he has eyes and ears everywhere.” the window shade was pulled down. she’d figure out how to explain it away if questions were asked. after a long pause, dolly nodded. “i know, mall.” escape was nearly impossible but it had been accomplished. “i want out too.” she wanted away from it all. the church, david, the other wives and even the children. “but how?” just the thought of wanting freedom that would be hard to obtain made her even more desperate for it.

cheese part 3 Production

In 2014, world production of cheese from whole cow milk was 18.7 million tonnes, with the United States accounting for 29% (5.4 million tonnes) of the world total followed by Germany, France and Italy as major producers (table).[29]

Other 2014 world totals for processed cheese include:[29]

from skimmed cow milk, 2.4 million tonnes (leading country, Germany, 845,500 tonnes)

from goat milk, 523,040 tonnes (leading country, South Sudan, 110,750 tonnes)

from sheep milk, 680,302 tonnes (leading country, Greece, 125,000 tonnes)

from buffalo milk, 282,127 tonnes (leading country, Egypt, 254,000 tonnes)

During 2015, Germany, France, Netherlands and Italy exported 10–14% of their produced cheese.[30] The United States was a marginal exporter (5.3% of total cow milk production), as most of its output was for the domestic market.[30]

The carbon footprint of a kilogram of cheese ranges from 6 to 12 kg of CO2eq, depending on the amount of milk used; thus it is generally lower than beef or lamb but higher than other foods.[31]

Consumption

France, Iceland, Finland, Denmark and Germany were the highest consumers of cheese in 2014, averaging 25 kg (55 lb) per person per annum.[32]

Processing

Main article: Cheesemaking

This section needs additional citations for verification. Please help improve this article by adding citations to reliable sources in this section. Unsourced material may be challenged and removed. Find sources: "Cheese" – news · newspapers · books · scholar · JSTOR(February 2013) (Learn how and when to remove this template message)

Curdling

During industrial production of Emmental cheese, the as-yet-undrained curd is broken by rotating mixers.

A required step in cheesemaking is separating the milk into solid curds and liquid whey. Usually this is done by acidifying (souring) the milk and adding rennet. The acidification can be accomplished directly by the addition of an acid, such as vinegar, in a few cases (paneer, queso fresco). More commonly starter bacteria are employed instead which convert milk sugars into lactic acid. The same bacteria (and the enzymes they produce) also play a large role in the eventual flavor of aged cheeses. Most cheeses are made with starter bacteria from the Lactococcus, Lactobacillus, or Streptococcus genera. Swiss starter cultures also include Propionibacter shermani, which produces propionic acid and carbon dioxide gas bubbles during aging, giving Swiss cheese or Emmental its holes (called "eyes").

Some fresh cheeses are curdled only by acidity, but most cheeses also use rennet. Rennet sets the cheese into a strong and rubbery gel compared to the fragile curds produced by acidic coagulation alone. It also allows curdling at a lower acidity—important because flavor-making bacteria are inhibited in high-acidity environments. In general, softer, smaller, fresher cheeses are curdled with a greater proportion of acid to rennet than harder, larger, longer-aged varieties.

While rennet was traditionally produced via extraction from the inner mucosa of the fourth stomach chamber of slaughtered young, unweaned calves, most rennet used today in cheesemaking is produced recombinantly.[33] The majority of the applied chymosin is retained in the whey and, at most, may be present in cheese in trace quantities. In ripe cheese, the type and provenance of chymosin used in production cannot be determined.[33]

Curd processing

At this point, the cheese has set into a very moist gel. Some soft cheeses are now essentially complete: they are drained, salted, and packaged. For most of the rest, the curd is cut into small cubes. This allows water to drain from the individual pieces of curd.

Some hard cheeses are then heated to temperatures in the range of 35–55 °C (95–131 °F). This forces more whey from the cut curd. It also changes the taste of the finished cheese, affecting both the bacterial culture and the milk chemistry. Cheeses that are heated to the higher temperatures are usually made with thermophilic starter bacteria that survive this step—either Lactobacilli or Streptococci.

Salt has roles in cheese besides adding a salty flavor. It preserves cheese from spoiling, draws moisture from the curd, and firms cheese's texture in an interaction with its proteins. Some cheeses are salted from the outside with dry salt or brine washes. Most cheeses have the salt mixed directly into the curds.

Cheese factory in the Netherlands

Other techniques influence a cheese's texture and flavor. Some examples are:

Stretching: (Mozzarella, Provolone) the curd is stretched and kneaded in hot water, developing a stringy, fibrous body.

Cheddaring: (Cheddar, other English cheeses) the cut curd is repeatedly piled up, pushing more moisture away. The curd is also mixed (or milled) for a long time, taking the sharp edges off the cut curd pieces and influencing the final product's texture.

Washing: (Edam, Gouda, Colby) the curd is washed in warm water, lowering its acidity and making for a milder-tasting cheese.

Most cheeses achieve their final shape when the curds are pressed into a mold or form. The harder the cheese, the more pressure is applied. The pressure drives out moisture—the molds are designed to allow water to escape—and unifies the curds into a single solid body.

Ripening

Main article: Cheese ripening

Parmigiano-Reggiano in a modern factory

A newborn cheese is usually salty yet bland in flavor and, for harder varieties, rubbery in texture. These qualities are sometimes enjoyed—cheese curds are eaten on their own—but normally cheeses are left to rest under controlled conditions. This aging period (also called ripening, or, from the French, affinage) lasts from a few days to several years. As a cheese ages, microbes and enzymes transform texture and intensify flavor. This transformation is largely a result of the breakdown of casein proteins and milkfat into a complex mix of amino acids, amines, and fatty acids.

Some cheeses have additional bacteria or molds intentionally introduced before or during aging. In traditional cheesemaking, these microbes might be already present in the aging room; they are allowed to settle and grow on the stored cheeses. More often today, prepared cultures are used, giving more consistent results and putting fewer constraints on the environment where the cheese ages. These cheeses include soft ripened cheeses such as Brie and Camembert, blue cheeses such as Roquefort, Stilton, Gorgonzola, and rind-washed cheeses such as Limburger.

Favorite Lyrics from Beetlejuice

Prologue: Invisible- Is it being greedy to need somebody to see me, and say my name?

The Whole “Being Dead” Thing- ‘Cause we’re all on a hitlist, might not live ’till Christmas, choke to death on triscuits, hey, that’s just statistics / That’s the thing with life, no one makes it out alive.

Ready Set, Not Yet- Soon enough, our hopes and our dreams will be crushed but not yet!

The Whole “Being Dead” Thing, Pt2.- The good news is you and your spouse died in your own house, that gives you clout, that means the two of you should stick around.

Dead Mom- I’m a bunch of broken pieces, it was you who made me whole / Take me where my soul can run, or I’ll be in my bedroom, wake me when I’m twenty one!

Fright of Their Lives- I know that beggars can’t be choosers, but did they have to be such losers? / ‘Excuse me, Mr. Betelgeuse, we can kinda hear you’ ‘Yeah? Well, that was a soliloquy, so you’re the one who’s being rude’

Ready Set Reprise- We’re ghosts damn it let’s… haunt this bitch!

No Reason- ‘Life coaching!’ ‘Nailing it.’ / ‘Be prepared to take your eggs and freeze em’ ‘Is this still about me?’

Invisible (Reprise)/ On the Roof- Banished, disavowed! I vanished like a cloud of dirty hipster vape…

Say My Name- I may be suicidal, but Beetlejuice it’s not as if I’ve lost my mind! / So he wants the perfect daughter, I’ll lead that lamb to slaughter!

Day-O- No! You’re supposed to be scared!

Girl Scout- Distract me from the fact that my heart could stop from tetralogy of Fallot in my pulmonary artery! / Just gonna ring the bell of this creepy looking house / But it’s so cold and you’re not mean and no one gets molested by a gothy teen so okay, it’s fine, alright, I’ll come inside!

That Beautiful Sound- A sound that says 15 years, full-time therapy / A sound that means no more condescending adults hanging around

Barbara 2.0- We can be fighters, with fire inside us, we’re more than detritus, we’re finally alive! / We’ve got nothing to lose, we can finally begin!

What I Know Now- Everyone here is alone, so if you are breathing, go home! / So before they lower the curtain, be certain to enjoy the show, that’s what I know! Life is short but death is long

Home- The nothingness ahead of me, is this the end you meant for me? Every living minute, there’s no home without you in it / I’ve burned all my bridges and games / Mom, I don’t wanna forget you, I promise, I’m never gonna forget you!

Creepy Old Guy- Wanna see a tear in every eye as I pass by / I know on the outside he’s disgusting and even on the inside… he’s disgusting / Give it up for my, underage bride!

Jump in the Line- But Mama I’m home!