#--and on that note‚ i think it only did that because being Michael changed its nature as an entitiy

[theokusgallery]

YES !!!!! YES THAT IS THE POINT THE DISTORTION IS NOT MEANT TO BE MICHAEL AND HAVING A NAME IS COMPLETELY ANTITHETICAL TO ITS VERY EXISTENCE AS AN ENTITY!!!

It's supposed to be unknown because that's where all the horror comes from ! It's just Creepy Doors That Make You (Feel) Insane !!!! If you know what it is, if you know it's Michael, it loses most if not all of its horror, because now not only do you have a (nice, reassuring, grounding) name to call it, you're aware of what it is and of its danger which means you're never going to open the damn door !!! That's why Helen doesn't survive it -- because she doesn't know that Michael isn't human, and doesn't know what to look for!!

Calling The Distortion "Michael" in the same way people give names to their appliances. Michael The Distortion = Basil The Microwave. That's not really its name and if you call it that it doesn't really fit

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/753405110589259776/note-spoilers-on-this-ask-for-anyone-who-hasnt

I’m this anon, and using your anon box to reply to a bad take in the reblogs of it lol.

1. aO3 treats the show and book series as separate fandoms for Bridgerton. My friend’s genderbend fic though is based on the books — thought I made that clear here. And yes book fans were being genuinely homophobic in her comments, not just her interpreting them not shipping it as “homophobia.” It was full of “get out of OUR tag” and claiming just writing a female character in a male version or shipping her male love interest with a guy was “misogyny,” exactly as I said. It’s a huge problem in the fandom. The main Reddit sub is so full of homophobia that queer fans had to spin out a separate inclusive sub called r/bridgertonlgbt. I’ve heard of people on TikTok being called “bourgeois degenerate” and “groomer” just for questioning why it’s supposedly such a dramatic and horrible change to make Michael into Michaela in the show.

2. Can we finally fucking retire the really tired, knee jerk “book is always better” attitude that has never been universally true anyway lol. The books Bridgerton are based on are pretty middling het histrom that repeat plots so much between them that that’s one of the big changes the show has had to make — just not have seasons 1 and 2 follow the same plot beats like books 1 and 2 did. The show has had to make a lot of changes just because it has a bigger audience than your average het histrom reader and while I haven’t loved every shift, it is overall better for it. Or just like, focusing on more than just each season’s main couple like the books only do — also better! The subplots are some of the most fun parts of that show, but also, it makes sense that people are going to continue to want to follow their favs from season to season and not just zero in on each couple. Yes I’ve read all the books. They simply are just not that great, TV is a different medium than books anyway and so certain changes are necessary, and frankly most of the loudest parts of the “book fandom” online who complain about the changes are people who read the books because of the show anyway. They’re all wildly inconsistent in what they consider acceptable changes: they’re largely on board with making the universally white books more racially diverse, but not adding queerness and gender diversity. Why is one ok but not another? Especially when a lot of them are ok with sad or bittersweet queer stories in subplots like Brimsley’s but not happy stories for main characters. Why is that, I wonder? A lot of people are pretending to be “book snobs” as a mask for bigotry, or just have bad taste, but regardless I think we need to get over the idea that stalwart defense of some mediocre and overly tropey romance novels is more elevated or intellectual and like the show isn’t an improvement in being less lazy about the cliches of that genre than the original author. (Seriously, I read a lot of romance novels, so this is not a knock on the genre as a whole or its readers — but the Bridgerton books are SO lazy and SO repetitive. Honestly I think a lot of the book defenders need to read more histrom themselves. Then maybe they’d see how weak and lazy those books can be compared to what else is out there.)

Fandom please learn basic things about how adaptation between different mediums works 2k24 also stop assuming that consuming a story in text form over another is an inherently intellectual activity

--

A pretentious friend of mine who loves Shonda Rhimes was going on at me a while ago about how she ~always reads the book first~ and then waiting for applause as if that's unusual!

She then tried to launch into how shocked she was by the books being... well, lowbrow trash, but she had some complex and boring way of explaining this.

I was like "Honey, you do know what a regency romance novel is, right? Right?!"

I mean, there are adaptations that are nearly exactly like the middle tier of romance novels. They're movie length and they air on Lifetime. This was a change not only of medium but of overall target audience and vibe.

[evita-shelby]

Pls I need more dad!Jack 🙏 Preferably something about him interacting with his girls, being the protective father. I hope you feel inspired to write this bc I’d love to read it!

Omg your request took life on its own and even included Gina dhdhbd

I hope you like it

Cw: mentions of racism, mention violence and ableism

Papa Bear

1929

He barely had a damn clue what it was to be a dad when he was given partial custody to his teenage niece. He didn’t think he’d be doing much when he started looking for a blue-blooded wife to marry and now Jack likes to think he’s doing a good enough job as a father.

Seven fucking kids.

Three daughters, four sons.

He loves all his kids, but he’s got a soft spot for his girls. Rosie, sweet little Rosemary who is a living testament that the fucking quack who said she should be put away like an unwanted decoration didn’t know what he was talking about.

Rosie’s a quiet little thing with big brown eyes with Jack’s brutal honesty and Eva’s attention to detail. Loves the piano most of out of all other instruments she plays, has a collection of dolls from all over the world threatening to swallow the house and does not like big gatherings or foods that touch each other on her plate.

“Was looking for you, kid.” Jack isn’t surprised to find her playing by herself in his home office. The door had been locked, but he’d taught her how to pick locks just like his old man did before he got his brains blown out when Jack was 10.

She hides here when she gets overwhelmed from all the noise and sensations and anything that shifts out of place in her perfect routine. Now that Gina and her husband were back in the States, it happened more often.

Gina had lost some of her teenage shittyness, but now that Michael had been tossed out on his ass and her position in her own family tainted by his failure in England, her bullying had returned. As if it was Rosie’s fault that she backed the wrong horse by marrying Michael.

It wasn’t the only reason Gina picked on who she perceived as the weakest opponent, Jack knows he spoiled the fuck out of her because she was his only niece and him having kids was a blow to her despite being 16.

“You knew I was here, daddy.” She gives a small smile ducking her eyes as always while she puts down the pen with which she writes the notes to the simple solo he taught her on the margins of his notebook.

They could tell her mood by the song she wrote down or played. Jack prided himself on knowing how to read her mood perfectly despite the placid face she tends to have on.

The song his mother used to play for him was when she just needed space: The Last Rose of Summer.

He used to sing it to her as a baby, to all his girls, but she was his first daughter, his little Rosie. Something that Gina has long pretended she’s not bothered by but shows in her irrational jealousy towards Rosie in particular.

“Gina left already, if you want to come back to your piano and finish your duet with Junior. Your mom was looking forward to it, you know how much she likes Clair de Lune.” That was another song she would write or play when she needed Eva more than him.

His nine-year-old girl perks up at the magic words and leaves his chair talking his ear off at how she and her brother ---her favorite brother in fact--- tweaked the melody for their mother and asked him if he thinks she’ll love it.

“How could she not, kid?” Jack takes off his coat from the girl’s shoulders and puts it back in the coat hanger before they return to the music room together.

1934

Where Rosie is sweet and quiet, Kitty is all fire and chaos.

A bullheaded girl put on this earth to give him an aneurysm. Loves sports, good at everything she sets her mind to, and nothing is ever enough for her.

But he loves his fiery little girl with his dead mom’s auburn hair and that ring of brown at the center of her eyes just like his. Wouldn’t change her for the world.

She is so much like him that he wonders how the fuck his mother managed raised him by her lonesome.

There’s much of Eva about her too, the pout, her wit and inability to sit still.

“Why’d you hit him?” he asks knowing too well that the school principal had been lying her ass about why Kit was getting expelled.

A student, they would’ve let it fly with the right amount of money. Old Pat had paid two hundred dollars in 1910 to keep him from getting expelled from curb stomping an idiot who called him a a potato-digging charity case. He’d done it because he saw a future for him, and that future was Harvard.

Katherine Drusilla Nelson had kicked a teacher in the balls. Jack had been so proud of her and would find a way to spin it for Eva who could not come in, thank God.

“Fucker called me a spic.” The eleven-year-old girl fumed in the passenger seat unaware that they’ll be stopping for ice cream and candy because Jack thinks kicking a bigot in the nuts merits a reward.

Eva would agree.

Eva would make a whole shitshow for the school because God forbid anyone hurts her babies. He would help her, especially now that they are no longer pretending to be fascist bigots after confirming how deluded Mosley and his ilk are in England.

Shelby had jumped ship too, and without their contract and Gina’s own disgust at having to fuck Mosley for information, Jack could tell the rat faced bastard to go fuck himself.

“Did you kick him like mommy taught you?” Jack asks, knowing his Kitten took Eva’s lessons in self-defense to heart. Jack had once been hit with a baseball bat thinking he was an intruder one night, if she’d gone to England with them, he would’ve loved to set her loose on Mosley.

“Yes.” The girl answered with a sniffle.

The little girl gets home happy as a clam and only half-hears her mother’s disappointment at her behavior knowing her dad agrees Mr. Burke deserved all the pain and embarrassment he got at her hands.

1933

Eunice Jane Nelson was something.

A perfect mix of his two elder daughters but a witch like her mother. Named after his Aunt Euni who had been his godmother and himself.

The four-year-old girl had pointed her toy gun and ‘shot’ Michael right between the eyes. Everyone had laughed thinking it was just Euni, Eddie and Laurie playing cowboys and robbers, but the pig-tailed girl had then said in a sing-song voice, “Tommy’s gonna kill you.”

“A crazy like the other one.” Gina had brushed it off refusing to consider her husband’s been marked for death.

“Don’t push it, Gee.” Jack warns as the children are taken upstairs by Eva and the nanny. “Kid takes after her mother, that’s all.”

Eva had not told him how unsettling she’d been as a kid.

Prophetic night terrors didn’t affect your childhood much, his siblings had all been rather normal beyond that. Junior and his other kids weren’t like this, either.

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one told they’re getting murdered by their fucking cousin by a four-year-old.” Michael said in his wife’s defense. He used to be more tolerant of the kid, said his mom was like that too, but he’d gotten worse after his mother’s death. At any age your mother’s death was guaranteed to fuck you up, Michael Gray and Jack were proof of that.

“You’re under my roof, watch how you talk about my kids, or I’ll do the job myself, Gray.” Jack warned tired of their bullshit.

Michael was desperate to prove himself a big dog. hates knowing he’s still not one of them after five years of pulling his weight in his service.

Thing is, the boy is not a man, his overconfidence always does him in when the shit gets tough. Gina was just as desperate to prove her place here too, only she knew she could get away with worse shit for being the boss’ niece.

“Oh, goodie, now you’re in papa bear mode.” His niece rolled her eyes like she was sixteen again. “So, what are we gonna do about Tommy Shelby? Or are you gonna wait until he comes after your kids because Michael and I are fair game?”

“You are my blood; Shelby wouldn’t kill you ‘cause he doesn’t want to fuck with me. I can give some protection to your husband while he’s in American soil, like a good old papa bear would, but if he can’t handle his own affairs when the time comes, then he’s shit out of luck, kid.” The gangster doesn’t let her taunts get to him, its more of an annoyance than anything, but serves to get his point across.

He protects his family, even Michael. Like a good old papa bear.

[kcyars99]

This is Imane Khelif. She is a boxer from Algeria. 🇩🇿

You're probably going to be hearing a lot about her from your bigoted uncle this weekend, especially now that everyone's least-favorite bigoted aunt, J.K. Rowling, has offered her incredibly worthless opinion on today's fight between two cis (aka BiOLoGiCaL for y'all that need that) women.

Things worth noting: 🇮🇹 The boxer who quit today's fight--Angela Carini of Italy--said her quitting wasn't political and that she was not passing judgment on Khelif's eligibility. She said the shot to her nose did something different to her than most hits she's ever taken.

🇹🇼 Last year, Imane (along with Taiwan's Lin Yu-ting) faced a ruling by the International Boxing Association that they--despite being cis or 'BioLoGiCaL🥴' women--had "advantages" of a genetic nature, leading to a decision not to let them fight.

🇺🇸 U.S. swimmer Michael Phelps, celebrated as the greatest swimmer of all time, has a genetic condition where his body produces half of the lactic acid of a normal cis man. For this biological quirk (along with his hyper-mobility) he is lauded.

🇩🇿 Algerian sports officials and other Algerian athletes have spoken in Imane's defense, including national team soccer player ​​Ismaël Bennacer who said Khelif is "suffering a wave of unjustified hatred."

🥇 The Olympics do not recognize IBA or its rulings and carried out their own set of testing standards which every athlete you see competing had to pass.

🇯🇵 Imane also fought at the Tokyo Olympics in 2021, where she was beaten in the quarterfinals by Irish boxer Kellie Harrington--another 'BioLoGiCaL🥴' woman.

🥊 For the weirdos who obsess over genitals, this person was born with a vagina. Meaning that by y'all's weird rules where you want to check in kids' pants before they compete, Imane would be deemed "girl athlete."

🏊 Meanwhile, Katie Ledecky today became the most decorated women's swimmer ever by pulling in a silver medal, after yesterday continuing her long streak of dominating everyone in the world in the 1500, where she holds the top TWENTY best times. Ever. And people on the internet spent the day calling her a man.

🧨 This should be a nonissue, but JOANNE and Elon and your bigoted uncle are latching onto it because they want to continue to push the deadly narrative against trans folks via any possible means. Even in a case where the person they're demonizing isn't trans in the first damn place. If she as a cis woman has more testosterone than other cis women athletes, well, that's not all that uncommon. Y'all wanna tell women with PCOS that they're not really women?

🩺 I don't know how many times I've shared that Open Ocean Exploration thread, by a literal biologist, explaining how common it is that people have sex variations that they don't even know about. I'll share it again since it's just about the most concise look at X/Y diversity I've ever seen. It's really wild to watch folks who copied off of my in high school biology act like they know more than actual scientists and doctors every single time I post it. --Find that post here:

#ParisOlympics2024

#OlympiansMadeHere

#olympicsboxing

(This originally called Joanne a bigoted uncle while still using her correct pronouns which I think conveys that she's basically the living embodiment of everyone's metaphorical racist uncle, gender be damned, but a few people felt it was misgendering her which was very much not the point so I changed it just to stop infighting since there's already plenty enough fighting with actual bigots to be doing.)

[ynisreal]

wires (8) - michael afton x reader

author´s note: helloooo tumblr! so, i've already uploaded these two chapters to ao3, because my main fan work consumption is on the site… sorry for the delay in posting them here :P summary: Michael tells you part of the truth. You and Michael clean up the establishment. Where is Ennard?

"You know what his goal is, right?" Henry's voice echoes in Michael's memories. Of course he knows, that same goal was hinging and hammering on Michael's memories all the way to your house. "Ennard must be looking for a new body to camouflage himself with again," Henry reminds the younger man of each metallic limb entering his stomach and wearing his skin like a coat. Michael wasn't going to forget the animatronic's purpose, having experienced first-hand what the big robot intended to do.

"I know, but he won't be able to find one so quickly. The person he chooses has to be injected by Remnant through the scooper before he dies or, anyway - during, as happened to me," Michael's answer to Henry's question pops into his memory, reminding him of the seriousness of the situation they were in, "I don't think Ennard knows about this, so until he finds out, there will be other bodies just like Noah's, failed attempts to find a puppet for this piece of shit."

That's Michael's fear. It's the same fear that makes him hold on a little tighter to the hands that are intertwined on his torso. You notice the change in his grip, finally understanding that you weren't the only one afraid of going back to the establishment. All along the way, Michael has been giving you these little indications that he was also afraid of what had happened, even though he didn't want to show it to you. The sudden grip on your hands, the slightly controlled breathing and the tension in the broad shoulders of the man in front of you. When there was a red light and Michael's motorcycle stopped, the man's hands brushed against your thigh, his anxious fingers tapping out a frantic rhythm on your skin. Honestly, you feel a little guilty for not comforting him, but you know how serious Michael is about his secrets and what he decides to share, so you don't want to force an opening and end up fighting with him again. You don't have the strength to get into a fight about who yells the loudest with Michael right now, with the vivid images of Noah's organs racing through your head.

"Thank you for coming to pick me up," you thank him, trying once again to distract yourself and Michael from the fear you were both feeling on your way back to the establishment. "Sure, I promised I'd help you carry the weight on your back, and I'm going to do just that," Michael replies, in a slightly happier tone than his demeanor showed. He was trying to reassure you and show confidence, which you could appreciate in him.

You smile under the large helmet that surrounds your face, "Is this the extra helmet you use when you offer girls a ride?" you joke, trying once again to ease the tension in his shoulders. However, this seems to have the opposite effect when you feel his shoulders tense up once again, perhaps even a little more. This makes you open your mouth in shock, "Wow, here I was just joking, and little did I know that I was another one of your victims," you imitate an angry tone, wanting to hear what Michael's response would be.

"Calm down, it was only two," Michael replies quickly, turning his helmeted head slightly in your direction, keeping his eyes on the road. "Apart from you, of course," the last comment being added in an obviously teasing tone, the man clearly amused by the little jealous tantrum you were throwing. "Hm, I see, should I assume that they also worked with you? Or that you also wrote them notes?" you add, continuing to dramatize the situation, amused by the lightness in which you and Michael were chatting, which completes its task in distracting both of you from the fear hanging over both your minds.

"No, that was just you," Michael says seriously, which surprises you a little, given the joking tone the subject was taking.

It's true. You feel it almost immediately.

"I didn't used to get too involved with the people I had sex with or talked to, that only started with you," Michael adds, not really caring what his words meant or what they suggested.

True. Again.

Your cheeks immediately blush. Shit, how Michael had the ability to dominate your thoughts and make the problems surrounding your head seem like ants next to his magnitude. "Well, what's in the past doesn't matter, I'm glad you've changed. You're the kind of person that everyone would love to meet," you replied awkwardly, not knowing how to react to Michael's sudden confession, letting the first words that came into your mind take over your facial muscles and spill out of your mouth.

Michael doesn't answer. After all, that clumsy little reply of yours brought a light into Michael's mind. He had changed, after meeting you, after so many months locked in the silence and darkness of the establishment, after dying and having to drag his own corpse out of a dark alley, Michael had changed. And this change was a good one, of course he still had certain reactions or behaviors that were already automatic in his brain, but even unconsciously, he had opened up to you, he wanted that opening. Michael was willing to open all his scars for you to look inside, through all the blood and pain.

"We're here," Michael says, seeing such the familiar establishment lurking on the sidewalk. You raise your head to look through the tinted window of the helmet, feeling your stomach rise in your throat and threaten to come out of your mouth. Days passed, Noah's case was still open, analyzing suspects, the sun still rose and fell the same way as before, but your fear was still there. Michael's company made you feel safer, knowing that neither you nor he would ever walk those same corridors alone, but it was inevitable that you would create various scenarios in your head about how the two of you would end up dead in the same way as Noah.

Michael noticed your hesitation, so he squeezed your hand that was still wrapped around his torso, signaling that he would be entering with you. He would help you carry the tiring weight of fear, even if his hands were growing calluses from having carried the same fear alone for several years.

The engine noise ceases and you look around the parking lot, unaccustomed to the scenery belonging to the establishment. You remove your helmet awkwardly, wrinkling your nose as you feel some of your hair being pulled along with the material. Your eyes meet the dark glass of Michael's helmet, and you wait a few seconds, a little confused by your companion's delay, when it finally hits you.

"Do you want me to go in first?" you ask, your voice soft and your head tilting slightly in sympathy. Michael's gentle laugh makes itself known and he lifts his hand to stroke your cheek.

"No need, just wait for me at the exit to the parking lot," he replies, knowing that you would feel uncomfortable entering the establishment alone, but you still wanted to make him comfortable. Michael still had no plans to show his face to you, that hadn't changed, so he appreciated your respect for his secret.

You nod and give him a small kiss on the hand that was hidden in a glove, which you assumed was part of the bike's equipment. Your footsteps echoed through the establishment as you walked up to the large red door that marked "Exit" in black letters. Michael waited until the footsteps were far enough for him to take off his helmet, wrinkling his nose when he felt bits of skin from his face getting stuck in the material. Shit, he would have to buy a wider helmet to avoid the cracks that were forming in his face, leading to some black patches from the necrotic muscles. He picks up the backpack he had brought, reaching for his hoodie and the black surgical mask he had brought. After lifting the hood from the hoodie, the upper part of his face was hidden, along with the lower part which was covered by the mask.

After a few minutes, you hear Michael's footsteps echoing through the garage, signaling to you that he was coming to meet you. "Is this the exit?" you ask, given that he's been working in the establishment longer than you. Michael saw the red door next to you and made a positive sign with his hands, showing you the new bandages that covered his fingers and hands. The famous mask and hood you were used to seeing every week are back, and you finally realize how much you had missed Michael. Honestly, you were grateful. A lot of feelings went through your head these last few days, especially with Noah's death and the story Henry told you, which helped you realize that: life is grey. It doesn't judge, it doesn't help or facilitate nor does it hinder or slow you down. Life gives what it can, and now, you were extremely grateful for what little Michael shared with you. Whether it was a blind kiss, a faceless figure or sweet words that were muffled by the mask. Life gave it to you, and you felt grateful for what seemed so little to other people, but was immense to you. And for Michael too.

"And the wage earners always come back to collect their wages," Michael said casually, letting out a theatrical sigh as he opened and held the large, eye-catching door for you to pass through. You let out a small laugh, "True, the chocolates my sister likes are very expensive these days," the same joking tone in the man's voice is heard in your own, enjoying the light mood you were starting the shift in. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's just your sister who eats them," Michael says sarcastically, calling the elevator as he pushes the button that instantly lights up. You let out another laugh, pushing the man's arm a little too hard, just to provoke him. But honestly, with the short contact of your hand on his toned arm, you realize that even if you had used one hundred percent of your strength, Michael might not have moved at all.

The elevator finally opens its doors, making a loud noise, as apparently all the doors in this establishment do. Michael lets you in first, extending his arm between the open space of the doors to prevent them from closing. As you enter that familiar environment, the reality of the place you're returning to makes itself present in your stomach again. Memories of you running through the corridors and praying to any entity that would listen to you so that you wouldn't be the next victim return to your mind, letting the discomfort begin to grow in your body. You are not alone is what you try to repeat to yourself, as an attempt to stabilize your anxiety. And it was the reality, you weren't alone, Michael was with you, the man who always tried to help you and ease your worries, why should this time be any different? It wouldn't.

The man next to you found your sudden silence strange, imagining that the memories and traumas of that night must be tormenting you. He still didn't know the details of what you had done or what you had thought on that day, only receiving the narrative through indirect sources—via Henry and the reports the older man had brought home. His imagination filled in some of the gaps, relying on the fact that Michael had been through similar experiences a few times to make accurate assumptions. "Close your eyes," Michael says impulsively, his voice coming out hoarse, surprising even himself as if his body had taken action before he realized what he was about to do.

You hardly needed time to react, immediately complying with Michael's request and allowing your sight to be stripped away. Your swift response exuded desperation, a realization that left you a little embarrassed. It became clear how effortlessly Michael could read your body language, especially in your most vulnerable moments. Your other senses took over, enabling you to listen to Michael's movements. You heard the elastic of the mask being stretched and the friction of the material against the man's skin, indicating that he had removed the object. Almost immediately afterward, your sense of touch allowed you to feel Michael's lips meeting yours. The kiss was slow and sweet, the small cuts on the man's mouth adding a subtle tickle, especially when you reached out to grab the material of his hoodie, bringing the two of you even closer. The affirmation you sought was present in the shared kiss—Michael was here. The same Michael who had promised to help you, no matter how challenging things became.

The sound of the elevator doors opening echoes through the closed room and you feel Michael's hand cover your eyes, even though you've kept them closed. The sweet taste of the man's lips disappears, replaced by the cold breeze that envelops the bare lower part of your face. "We're here," Michael whispers, his husky voice close to your ear. You nod positively, a little nervous about your prolonged lack of sight. The hand covering your eyes finally leaves, allowing your vision to return, the dim lighting of the establishment invading your eyesight again, irritating you slightly.

You glance at Michael, who already has his mask back on. The affirmation you were repeating was now firmly in your mind, so you didn't hesitate to take the first step, making your way towards the heavy, noisy doors of the main hall. This time, the loud sound didn't startle you, showing how determined your brain is to ignore any kind of fear, focusing solely on the mantra hammering away at the back of your mind. Michael follows you, satisfied that the little bit of encouragement he provided in the kiss worked, pleased with the image in front of him: you attempting to move forward. It won't be easy, but he can try to make it easier for you.

Michael follows you, noticing how you're walking a bit too fast through the main hall, searching for the cleaning utensils to organize the chaos that the police and investigators had left behind. Michael's strong arm appears in the corner of your vision as you reach for the mop bucket.

"Doll, slow down, I'm here to help you," his voice is once again close to your ear, "I'm glad you're determined, but don't forget that I also have my role in helping you," he continues, grabbing the bucket with ease and placing it on the floor in front of you.

"Okay, sorry, I'm just afraid this wave of motivation is gonna leave too soon," you express, rubbing your hands on your uniform, a sign of your sudden hyperactivity. "So don't use it all up within seconds, just take a deep breath and calmly use up your motivation battery, so you don't go into total denial about everything that happened," Michael says calmly, raising his arm to pick up the other utensils. "Honestly, denial would be a good way to deal with all this," you admit, watching as the man in front of you, once again, gathers up all the items and then leaves you empty-handed.

Michael turns his head towards you, letting the dim light illuminate the upper part of his face. With so many emotions over the last few days, you'd forgotten: Michael's eyes were completely dark. A dark black that consumed all the light in the room and didn't reflect a single glint. You remember the drawing you made that associated this feature, which at the time you thought was imaginary on your part, with the eyes of a powerful villain. It's true, it was a look that would make any villain envy the darkness and emptiness that his gaze conveys. But you couldn't possibly think that about his gaze, knowing that Michael wasn't a villain, at least not in your eyes. You looked away, not wanting Michael to find out that his eyes were uncovered. After all, if he kept secrets, you could keep yours.

"Don't say that," the man's voice is serious, "Denial won't do any good, in fact, reality will only hit harder afterwards," Michael says. Truth, you feel it again. Damn, you wish you could tear your insides apart so you could stop feeling these intuitions. Feeling your body betraying you and agreeing with Michael.

"Yeah," you reply dryly, in denial about being able to stay in denial, basically. "I hate to be cliché, but time heals all wounds, and well, justice heals other wounds too," Michael looks back at the shelves, reaching for the cleaning cloths and gloves.

"Have you experienced this before?" your voice comes out hoarse, a little frustrated with Michael's advice, not wanting to accept the reality that you would have to cope with your emotions and fears. The man doesn't stop in his movements, continuing to throw the cloths he found into the bucket in front of you. He takes a few seconds to respond, as if he's thinking about what to say.

"Yes," Michael says, "Noah wasn't the first death in this establishment."

Well, what the fuck? Isn't this kind of information usually shared with new employees?

You don't answer, your body speaks for itself, your eyes going wide and your hands clenching your uniform. "What do you mean?" your voice comes out a little broken, your fear returning almost instantly. Michael realizes this, so he makes the decision to tell you this story in another manner. "I'm going to tell you, I just need you to close your eyes so I can comfort you," he says, his voice heavy with anxiety. Shit, it was hard having to be careful about the secrecy of his appearance and keeping you physically close at such times.

You sigh and close your eyes again. Michael brings you close, covering the top of your face once again with his hand and letting his other hand caress the fabric of your uniform that was covering your shoulder. "It's been a while since that body was found," Michael is careful with his words, not wanting to scare you or expose himself too much, "Henry, the man you met, was the one who found the body, but the killer was already identified in that case, so you don't have to-"

"Did this man come back to life, or did something happen to him after death?" you ask curiously, remembering the tale Henry had told you. You really didn't believe that the man had come back to life, so you assumed that it must be some kind of lesson or significance that the employees of this establishment shared. Well, you were partly right.

"What do you mean?", the hand on your shoulder stops abruptly, surprised by your question. "Henry told me that he knew a story about a man who had another chance in life after he died," you explain, your hand reaching for Michael's to return the caress on your shoulder that was helping you to calm down, "Well, I assumed that it was a well-known tale in the establishment, and since Henry found the body, he may have tried to pass it on to me," you conclude, a little confused by your own statement. "Forget it, I must look crazy," you add, finally finding Michael's hand as you feel the familiar bandages around your fingers.

Michael smiles beneath his mask, evidently Henry must have shared the story of his death with you. "Would you like the story to end like that?" Michael asks, resuming his caress on your shoulder, "For the corpse that Henry found to come back to life?". You think for a few seconds, not understanding Michael's question, but regardless, you decide to answer: "Yes, it would be less gruesome than ending up with Henry running around the corridors afraid of being the next one, just like me," you shrug, the sincerity in your voice making your speech seem a little too casual for the reality of your statement.

"Okay," Michael smiles, a smile so big that he's afraid the necrotic tissue on his cheek will tear deeply. "You mentioned that the killer was identified, is he under arrest?" you ask.

That's going to be impossible to explain, Michael thinks.

"No," the man replies sincerely, not wanting to delve into who, or rather what, the killer was. "That's why I'm here with you, it's safer for both of us, and believe me, I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that these same stories don't repeat themselves with you or your sister."

"My sister?" you vocalize, your hand that was stroking Michael's bandages quickly ceasing. "Michael, what does my sister have to do with this?", your voice sounds irritated, which makes Michael hesitate in his movements. Shit, he said too much.

"She has nothing to do with it, Y/n, calm down," Michael blurted out as he felt your hand grip his tightly. Not that it was actually hurting, but he could sense the desperation in your tone. "I only vocalized my concern for both of you, I know how much you love and care for her."

"Okay, but why should the murder in this establishment worry my sister?" you asked once again, the irritation you felt still not subsiding.

"There's a killer on the loose, Y/n, that's what I'm saying, we don't know where he is," Michael knows that what he's telling you is the opposite of comforting or calming you, but it's the truth. He didn't want you walking the streets carefree or letting your sister come home from school completely alone. Ennard was still on the loose, and he was testing bodies until he could find one that would hold up, which won't happen until Ennard realizes that the corpse needs Remnant.

You sigh, letting the depth of Michael's statement settle within you. He was presenting facts that were difficult to accept, the realization that your sister or other people could be in danger. You couldn't afford to let fear paralyze you, to be as openly vulnerable as you were being, you needed strength and courage in this moment, especially since your little sister depended on your protection and care.

While Michael could bring you comfort and motivation, this line of thinking brought you courage and determination. You had to control your emotions, after all, it wasn't just your life that depended on it.

It worried the man when he didn't hear any response from you, but soon after, he listened to your breathing become more controlled, as if you were trying to calm your thoughts and stabilize your heart. "I understand, thank you for clarifying that to me," you finally reply, your voice strangely calm, "I needed to hear that, thank you Michael," you add, raising your hand to caress his other hand, which was still positioned over your eyes.

Michael smiles, satisfied with the conclusion of the confusing and unexpected conversation you two shared. So he carefully lowers his mask, sealing the discussion you two had with a small kiss, just to bring you and him a sense of comfort and closeness after a sensitive conversation for both of you.

When you feel the hand being removed from your eyes, Michael is already wearing his mask and standing at the same distance he considers safe. Your gaze falls on the utensils already positioned in the bucket, apart from the mop and broom in Michael's hands. You crouch down to pick up the bucket with the cloths and cleaning products, but Michael's arm reaches for the item before you can grab it.

"Why do you still try?" Michael's voice is laced with teasing, totally different from the tone you two had been talking in a few minutes ago. You let out a hearty laugh when you saw that Michael was practically hugging the broom and mop with one arm, squeezing them tightly against his body so they wouldn't fall off, while his free arm was carrying the bucket. "If you'd rather contort yourself to carry the bucket than let me handle a broom, honestly, you're crazy," you smiled, holding out your arms, hoping that Michael would make an exception for today.

"Call me crazy all you want," he says, ignoring your offer and starts walking through the corridors in search of the mess made by the investigators. You roll your eyes, amused by Michael's extreme insistence on being a gentleman, but you still follow him down the corridors to start your day shift.

"Fuck, couldn't those jerks collect their damn tapes?", Michael's voice rings out through the corridors until you reach Ballora's gallery, where you were. Hearing him get angry about this makes you laugh as you organize some boxes that the cops had emptied during the investigation. "Damn it, just put that shit in the garbage can, did they have to leave it on the floor?", Michael finally makes his way to the door of the room you were in.

"Michael, it's our job to manage the establishment, their only job is to investigate," you explain, without taking your eyes off the task you were doing, sorting out the items that were for the decoration box that ended up on the floor due to the policemen's carelessness. "But it's also their job to have the minimum of human dignity and throw garbage in the garbage can," Michael replies, still frustrated by the mess that had established itself in the Funtime auditorium: badly cleaned blood, torn yellow tapes on the floor, empty coffee cups everywhere and, to complete the humiliation, the staff toilet near the auditorium was clogged. Not that Michael needed it, he no longer has a functioning digestive system, but you did, and the asshole cops apparently didn't think about your digestive system while they clogged up the only fucking toilet in this establishment.

"Are you going to unclog the toilet? I can finish the boxes quickly and get it done," you asked, turning your body towards the door. You saw Michael standing in the doorway, holding two transparent garbage bags, both visibly full. "No, I'll do it," Michael replied in frustration, not at you, but at the mess. As much as he found the months he spent alone in the establishment frustrating, he had created a sense of home for the place. For him, seeing this messy and untidy place that he'd practically lived in for months would burst a vein, well, if he had veins with blood pumping through them.

"You're already cleaning the auditorium, which I believe has been left in a mess of blood and other filth," you plead. Michael had immediately offered to clean the auditorium, knowing that it would be uncomfortable for you to relive your memories there, even more so with the blood barely cleaned up by the investigators who collected the body and the various tapes written "Crime Scene".

"No, I'll clean the auditorium and the bathroom, no problem," Michael put the bags down, sighing at the effort he'd been putting in all afternoon. It was strange, to spend the whole afternoon mopping the floor and walking back and forth through the corridors to carry bags of garbage, and not break a sweat. He felt hot and breathless from the hard work, but he couldn't sweat anymore. "I don't want to kiss you later and have you smell like stale coffee and bleach," Michael explained, putting one hand on his waist and the other to loosen the hoodie he was wearing, shaking the fabric of the collar so that a breeze of air would cool his dead body.

"Oh yeah, then I'll have to smell that on you later," you laugh, not at all convinced by Michael's explanation. "I don't want your sister to be traumatized by the stink she'll smell when you get home," Michael says, his voice carrying a provocative tone, which makes you smile once again.

Michael looked extremely attractive right now, even with his face covered. The fabric of the hoodie really helped with the masterpiece in front of you, making no effort to hide the man's physique, apart from the fact that, with the movement he was making with the fabric, you could see a bit of bandage around his abdomen. You had discovered yet another feature of your sexual preference with Michael, finding the bandages he wore on his hands extremely attractive, even if you didn't understand why he wore them. A good amount of time had passed since the episode in the control room, and honestly, all you wanted now was to have the opportunity to feel Michael like that again.

"Doll, I'm going to throw this shit away and finish the auditorium tomorrow, I need to sort out the fucking toilet by today," Michael announces, picking up the bags again. You nod positively, "I like it when you call me that," you say with a fond smile on your face, happy to have Michael working with you, it really managed to distract you from the fact that the two of you were cleaning up the mess of the policemen - policemen who had come to investigate a murder.

"Brings back good memories, right?" Michael's voice echoed through the corridors, the malice evident in his tone, but he missed the opportunity to see your cheeks blush and your eyes close in shyness. But your face bore a smile, good memories indeed.

You took the opportunity that Michael had taken on the task of cleaning and unclogging the toilet to check the Scooping Room. Over the last few days, you had called the company a few times, explaining the situation of the robot forgotten in the establishment. The secretary had been polite to you, but she repeated that there was no record of the animatronic you were describing, an animatronic with several exposed wires and white plates forming a face that held a hat on top. You were confused by the situation, which she tried to explain could be some robot from another establishment or an export error by the construction company. The secretary explained that they were swamped with demands from the redesign of this facility and the lawyers who were handling the lawsuit over Noah's death, so she couldn't give you a definite date of when someone would pick up the lost animatronic.

So, walking quickly through the Funtime auditorium, avoiding looking at any traces of blood or, frankly, anywhere other than the small door of the Scooping Room, you decide to check on the animatronic, even to see if the police had removed it or done anything to the robot. When you enter the dark room, the animatronic is no longer next to the door, which makes you think almost immediately that it must have been removed, but as soon as your eyes get used to the darkness of the room, you can see the animatronic standing next to the large scooper in the middle of the room.

The animatronic was positioned in a creepy way, its arms, which were tubes and tubes of wires, were next to its metallic body, with its eyes turned towards the door, where you were standing. Next to him was the large scooper, which you assumed was for rebuilding or destroying the robots. "Well, it looks like they left you right here," you vocalized in a low voice, making sure Michael didn't hear any noise coming from the auditorium. The animatronic was submerged in the darkness of the place, the open door with the low lighting of the auditorium didn't do your vision any justice, you could only see the white plates that formed the robot's face and the long tubes that escaped from the metal body. Some dark spots were on the animatronic's white face, which made you think that the policemen must have moved the robot and let some coffee drip onto the plates. You were still amazed at the lack of care the investigators had shown with the establishment.

When you hear footsteps in the corridor and Michael's voice calling your name accompanied by some complaints about the smell in the bathroom, you immediately close the door to the scooping room and practically run through the auditorium, taking care not to bump into anything and cause a loud sound that would attract Michael's attention. "Y/n, let's close up and leave, I can't stand that stink any longer, tomorrow I'll bring a gas mask to keep cleaning the bathroom," Michael says, as he walks towards Ballora's gallery, but quickly notices that you are no longer there. "Y/n?" Michael says louder, wanting to hear an answer from you before he turns this establishment upside down, creating more chaos than the policemen left behind.

"I'm here," you reply as you run down the corridors to meet Michael. "Where did you go? Finished with the boxes?" the man asks as soon as he sees you running towards him, his hood hiding the frown of concern that has formed on his eyebrows. "I went to have a look in the auditorium, but I came running when I heard your call," you explain, placing your hand on the old walls of the corridor, trying to calm your breathing. Well, it wasn't entirely a lie, but you still felt bad about lying in front of Michael, especially about a subject he clearly felt strongly about.

"Hm, you could have told me," Michael replied, crossing his arms, "It's okay, next time, just let me know before you go to the auditorium, I don't like the thought of you alone in that place," the man explained, his husky voice filling your ears with a tone of distress.

"It's okay, Michael," you responded, smiling awkwardly due to the shortness of breath you were still feeling. "Let's go, you need a shower," your attempts to calm your breathing allowed you to inhale deeply of the reek that covered the man at that moment. Honestly, you were relieved that he had offered to clean the bathroom, you wouldn't put up with that smell for a second before vomiting.

"Wow, look what a gentleman gets for cleaning the bathroom for a girl," Michael imitates a sad voice, "Get used to the smell, doll, you'll have to cling to me on the bike on the way home," the man adds, letting out a small laugh while your face contorts into a disgusted expression. "Honestly, I'd rather walk," you admit to the man in front of you, who, upon hearing your statement, lets out another laugh, this time more sincere and louder than the first.

"I'll walk with you then," Michael starts heading towards the auditorium, moving past you, while your figure is still leaning against the same wall, trying to rest your body from the effort you've exerted today. "I'm going to lock the rooms, wait for me here so we can head down together," he said, stroking your hair gently as he came across your clumsy figure, still leaning against the wall. Your gaze was on the floor, giving Michael free access to run his fingers through the strands of your hair, which were shiny with sweat and a little messy. For Michael, it was another reminder that your body was alive, your body was warm, sweating and flushed red, unlike the cold, purple fingers of the dead man.

You nod positively at him, feeling the touch of careful fingers in your hair go away, accompanied by the sound of Michael's footsteps once again echoing through the corridors. The wall was strangely comfortable for you, so as Michael had asked, you didn't move, letting your whole body lean against the wall as you waited for Michael to return and leave.

The man does his task quickly, locking all the rooms that had been opened in the investigation and checking if the ones that remained locked were properly closed. Arriving at the auditorium, Michael moves in hurried steps towards the door that was so familiar from his nightmares. Now he and Noah shared the same place of death. No matter how much his steps faltered or how much his dead heart screamed at him to get away from that door, he always checked to see if it was closed. It seemed that his soul recognized the place, as all the organs that were no longer active in his lifeless body twitched and writhed in pain. Michael unconsciously raised his hand to protect his abdomen, an unnecessary and useless action for his current situation. His stomach had already been ripped open, all his organs had already been expelled onto the floor, Michael's survival instinct had nothing left to protect.

Even though his hand was shaking, he reached out for the handle, which, to make matters worse for Michael, was open. At that moment, the fear ceased, the feeling of rage and revenge taking over Michael's entire body, already expecting to find Ennard behind that door. He couldn't risk leaving that door open, not with you here, not with your figure standing a few meters away from this room. The door swung open abruptly and violently, the dust that guarded the entrance flying everywhere given the room's lack of use.

There was no one there. Or rather, there was no animatronic. The room was dark, but Michael could draw this room with his eyes closed, he didn't need light, the memory that terrified him every night would help him navigate the room. The man wasn't stupid, he knew and had experience with the way animatronics hid, so he made a point of checking every corner or square meter of the small space. Michael felt his soul almost jump out of his body once again as he stood inside the Scooper Room, recognizing that it was here that he had lost his life, it was in this small space that Michael didn't see the light, Michael didn't hear, see or feel anything for the first time in his life. At least, he couldn't feel anything after he felt the large piece of metal puncture his stomach. He couldn't hear anything after his ear almost bled from his own screams. Ennard was the last vision he had.

Ennard wasn't here. Michael felt selfish for being relieved, at least, he didn't want to imagine how he would deal with knowing that Ennard was in the establishment at the same time as you were. However, that meant it was somewhere else, loose on the streets of this city in search of a corpse to dress, just as he had done with Michael.

The man quickly closes the door, locking it before going to meet you.

[beechicory]

Seb, a few days before his final race, did a fascinating interview discussing many, many things, including:

his decision to retire being for him

the World Cup in Qatar (and when, or if, sports should go there)

sportswashing and flowery words, and

the need for F1 to put its money where its flowery words are in terms of improving human rights

that human rights, and projects to improve human rights, require funding $$$ and actions, not words and photo-ops

that F1 must be be a) transparent, and b) accountable about the money it gets and where that money goes

It's a really good discussion, and he's really thoughtful - I think that even if one were to disagree with his conclusions, you'd leave recognising his logic and sincerity (and moral conviction).

The interview, with Philipp Schneider of Süddeutsche Zeitung, was difficult to get access to (here's a link to it on archive.ph) so I'm posting the google-translated text behind the Read More. (As always when something is google-translated, we're probably missing some nuance, etc)

I really recommend reading it!

Tw for discussion of homophobia, etc.

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

Conversation with Sebastian Vettel

"I want to experience happiness without having to drive for it"

Nov 18, 2022 at 6:51 p.m

Before his last race, Sebastian Vettel talks about the reasons for the end of his career, the driver's dependence on the car and material - and makes demands on Fifa and Formula 1.

SZ: Mr. Vettel, a face-to-face meeting was originally planned. Now we can at least connect by phone. That saves CO2 emissions and should be in your interest, right?

Sebastian Vettel: Absolutely. That's how it works wonderfully.

Your Formula 1 career ends on Sunday with a final race in Abu Dhabi . And a lot of people get excited because they want to know what you're going to do in the future. Does that surprise you?

Luckily, my decision doesn't affect the people, it affects me. And it's not like I got up in the morning and thought: like that! Now is the time to stop. I've been thinking about this for a long time. And even if I can't say exactly what comes after that - I'm looking forward to what comes after that!

Good to hear.

At some point, every athlete reaches the point where their career can no longer continue, for whatever reason, whether self-chosen or not. I'm not super special in that regard. The big task for me will be to find something that gives me the same level of satisfaction as I did in the years in Formula 1. One thing is certain: the big adrenaline rush and the feeling of sitting in the car will no longer exist. But that was clear to me.

We have a theory as to where the keen interest in your post-career life comes from.

How does it look?

We don't know of any professional athlete who has ever pushed his career with so much momentum during his active time. Lately one had the feeling that you are more often in the beehive than in the car and more of a political ambassador than a racing driver!

yes, good Maybe that's because there's not much to celebrate for me on the track at the moment. The sporting success in recent years has not been so outstanding that one could have said or written much about it.

You are not only leaving Formula 1 as a four-time world champion, but also as an important eyewitness. What do you think has changed the most in the past 15 years?

I think the sport, the genetics or what defines the sport is probably unchanged since Formula 1 came along. Yes, cars are changing, and so are people. But the core of Formula 1 has remained the same. I still love this sport, since I was little I've done nothing else, dreamed of nothing else, nothing else has ever really driven me. So what's different? The dimensions of the sport have grown enormously in recent years. So internationally, in Germany Formula 1 has shrunk.

Is that how you perceive it?

Formula 1 was far bigger in Germany when I started. And of course it was greatest when the boom years around Michael (Schumacher, editor's note) were around, in the mid-nineties, early 2000. Then there was another strong wave at my most successful time. But after that, interest in Germany decreased significantly.

Why is that?

On the one hand, because not all races are broadcast on free TV. But there is another important point: I am afraid that Germany is only a pioneer in terms of its view of Formula 1. There are simply more and more important issues that are coming to the fore. And that's why the question of the relevance of Formula 1 arises for many people.

But are you still a fan?

Naturally! I'm totally euphoric about our sport! That's exactly why I see how important it is to look at him critically. The way we deal with resources is not a role model, we should be much more economical. If that is not the case soon, the question will quickly arise around the world as to whether Formula 1 is still viable. And then interest should decrease everywhere, as has already happened in Germany.

Exciting theory. The general perception is rather: Formula 1 is going through the roof everywhere, just not in Germany and Brazil, because people there don't want to spend money on pay TV.

The problem is deeper. We as a society do not want to underestimate the emergency we are in. In the decades to come, we will increasingly have to ask ourselves the question: What is still possible, what can we still afford? And every sport then has to justify itself for the way in which it is played.

So not just Formula 1?

Not at all. Us first, of course, because in our sport we drive around, burn resources and still need fossil fuels. But a football World Cup, the Olympic Games, the Bundesliga too: every major event has to reinvent itself and see how it can leave a smaller footprint.

From ecological to sporting criticism: The season began with a technology amendment that was announced with great pomp and aimed at pushing the field closer together. Why has the season turned out to be the most one-sided in years?

After big rule changes there is often a gap between a top team and the rest. The goal was to make overtaking and the show better and to make it easier for us to overtake. It's gotten a little better, but the big revolution that was announced with the new rules didn't materialize. It would have been better for the sport this season to have left the rules as they were. However, a process has been started that has the potential to bring the field closer together in the coming years. Also thanks to the budget cap, not only the teams with a lot or a lot of money will win in the long term, but also the smaller teams. However, this will only happen in a horizon of five years.

It was far more exciting in 2010: you only snagged your first title in the last race. Has Abu Dhabi been a happy place for you since then?

(laughs) Well, the racetrack and what happened on the racetrack, yes! I have many fond memories of winning the 2010 World Cup. It doesn't feel like yesterday. And a lot has happened since then.

Red Bull boss Dietrich Mateschitz then said that the way to the world championship title in the next few years would only be through you. And adds: Provided he's in the right car. The sentence was prophetic: it included all the titles that followed, but also your sometimes dreary years in worse cars. A driver drives the competition to the ground in the Red Bull and fails to win a title after switching to Ferrari and Aston Martin . Do you understand critics who say: what kind of sport is that?

The dependency of a driver on the team and material is actually enormous. But even in the Bundesliga you don't really have a chance of winning the championship if you're not FC Bayern.

The difference, however, is that while a player can shine on a bad football team, it's much harder on a Haas or Aston Martin.

Formula 1 has always been like this. In the fifties, in the seventies, and it's still like that today. From this point of view, however, the past few years have been very instructive for me. In the beginning, my aspirations in Formula 1 were very much focused on success. And then success came, very quickly and very powerfully. I rode the wave for as long as the wave was available.

A wave called Red Bull , on which you won four world titles...

Well, and then in the last few years the water has been under my board (laughs) ... or the wind has been taken out of my sails. But that doesn't mean my efforts are any smaller. I learned that there is a midfield and a backfield that I didn't bother with that much before because it was too far away. In any case, something interesting also happens there: the efforts are just as great, but the reward is completely absent.

Completely?

I would say yes. And that is of course a very, very hard bread for the motivation of the teams and also the drivers. They bob around in the back for years, go unnoticed and hope that they will take the small chance to shine when they present themselves. They are not only dependent on their motivation, their skills and talent - but also on the surrounding environment. It takes a bit of luck to be in the right place at the right time. The past few years have shaped me in this respect and taught me a lot, including about myself. In that respect, I don't want to do without them, even if I could have given them all away from a sporting point of view.

When we spoke in 2018, you said: your dream isn't finished yet, you still wanted to be world champion in a red car like your role model Michael Schumacher. Do you now console yourself with the belief that you had no chance of winning the Ferrari title?

We did not make it. So I could say: We didn't stand a chance. Or I could torture myself and ask: what was missing from the car? What slowed us down in development? What was perhaps structurally not ideal? You could have recognized some things and saved yourself some mistakes. But it wasn't like that. We tried everything as a team and gave everything. Even in hindsight, it doesn't feel like I left anything behind or that I was completely off track. Yes, I think unfortunately we didn't have a real chance to fight to the end.

Because Mercedes was too powerful?

You have to be fair enough to accept that the Mercedes- Lewis Hamilton package was the best. They had a better pace of development and therefore drove better than us. Which of course is a shame. I think I can live with that now as well as with the question of whether this is the right time for me to say goodbye. Or whether it might have needed another sense of achievement.

The question then arises as to what a sense of achievement in the Aston Martin could even look like.

What is the right time? Do you need a title to finish? A won race? A fastest lap? Any climax? Those are all questions I asked myself. It's not my fault if people expect something just because it would have been a nicer story. Or when they nag because they think my career is not smooth because I drive around the back and quit anyway. I'm the only one who has to live or deal with my situation. And after all these years I know exactly what I can do. I know what it takes to win races. And I know I don't have any of that right now. I'm still so confident in myself that I say: If I'm in the right package and have the right attitude, then I can get back up there at the front. Still.

When Nico Rosberg retired after his only title, not everyone was pleased either: critics said he fled because he felt he would never defeat Lewis Hamilton again.

Even. The length of time after your career is so infinitely long. Definitely wanting to win another title is not a recipe for success for the 40 or 50 years that follow. And I was lucky enough to be able to celebrate so many titles that I don't even know which one was the best. Just because you stopped with a title doesn't mean your career after your career will be 100 percent great.

After all, Nico Rosberg made it into the TV show The Lion's Den. But because you so often talk about your career after your career and recently said in Der Spiegel that you wanted to do it like Stefan Raab: just finish and then go underground. Anyone who has followed your activities beyond the race track will understand: you want to do things differently than Stefan Raab. They create a new stage for themselves so as not to disappear afterwards.

(laughs) Time will tell. I just said that I admire it when someone manages to transform their life in such a way that they say: I don't need any of this anymore! Maybe you can now simply bring your experience, your strengths and also your knowledge, which you have brought to bear in front of the camera over the years, behind the camera. So maybe you still work in the same profession, but you don't need the limelight as much anymore.

Fortunately, more people work behind the camera than in front of the camera in Formula 1 anyway.

Honestly, I wish I could find something I'm happy with. I want to experience good luck without having to drive (laughs) .

But to your legacy as a critic of Formula 1: Formula 1 is expanding into more and more countries where human rights are not respected. Football fans are protesting in the stadiums against the World Cup, which begins in Qatar on Sunday . Are motorsport fans less political?

Good question. In controversial countries like Qatar, football was kicked off ten years ago. There may not have been a World Cup yet, but that's where clubs held their winter camps.

FC Bayern has been going to Qatar regularly for years.

For example. We as Formula 1 have been organizing races in these countries for a long time. I think our world should keep evolving. That's why certain things can no longer be considered okay.

Qatar's World Cup ambassador described being gay as "mental damage" in front of the camera in a ZDF documentary.

That is not how it works! This is outrageous!

The mantra of the Qatari whitewashers that society is becoming more liberal, you just have to keep going there, organize big events and wait a few years - isn't that obviously a misconception?

Might be. But Formula 1 is booming internationally and is opening up to a younger audience thanks to the Netflix series "Drive to Survive". And when these young people come to the races, they may hear from other spectators that unbearable tone that many women, for example, suffer from. Then the young people can raise their voices and say: Hey, that's not possible! And this is how debates may arise that will help society as a whole. What is definitely no longer possible: that someone in a country where there are human rights violations talks their way out; For example with the argument: "That's just the way it is with us. Get over it!"

Isn't it naïve to believe that such a change is taking place?

That's why I specifically demand that sport should give itself a compass, set up a moral code and then stick to it. There it is then precisely determined what the basic political requirements must be in order for sport to be allowed to take place in a country. Certain things and certain countries are simply no longer there. Too much is too much. And then we say no as Formula 1 or FIFA . And don't just nod politely and take the money or help us with any other perks the country might offer.

For example, it could say: Don't drive in countries where critical journalists are cut up with bone saws. Formula 1 has signed a ten-year contract with Saudi Arabia.

Again: homophobic comments like that of the World Cup ambassador are absolutely unacceptable. And it puts the athletes in an extremely difficult situation: us drivers in Formula One, but also the players who will take part in the World Cup. You all have to ask yourself a very difficult question: Can I or am I even allowed to practice my sport in this place?

Your Answer?

You can't expect the players to get together and decide: We're skipping this moment, this unique feature in our lives, playing a World Cup, for political reasons. On the other hand, that would be an extremely good sign. It's difficult for the players, but easier for the spectators. You just couldn't look. I myself really enjoy watching football and I love European and World Cups. But sometimes I think: If I don't watch now, don't I also punish all the players who do their best for themselves and their team and are passionate about their sport? But when I think about it that way...

Then?

If statements like those of the World Cup ambassador are made, then we simply shouldn't go to Qatar! The saying was more than backward-looking. The sport, the whole association should say: This is not the right place to do sport there.

Especially since the ambassador still gets money to show as friendly a face as possible to the outside world. He proves that nothing gets better just because sport is organized.

There's a chance. Even our Western societies have not eaten wisdom with spoons and can now say: Dear country XY, do everything as we do and everything will be fine! We also have things that should be significantly better. But if you want to accelerate change in Qatar or Saudi Arabia, then as a sport we need transparency: we have to publish the unembellished numbers of how much money we collect from the countries. And we have to clearly communicate how much of it flows back into projects that then really drive change there on the ground.

A very large and a very small number.

Allegedly. But as long as these issues remain in the background and are veiled, as long as no one knows how much money is being spent and what is being done with it, we will remain stationary. It also doesn't help if you meet somewhere and take a picture of banging a spade in the ground or planting a tree.

You went karting with young women in Saudi Arabia and published photos of it.

That was only a small gesture, but social change does not come for free. Many important projects cost money. And if a country has plenty of money to attract big sport, then some of it, even a large part, should be used to improve people's lives.

Some problems in Qatar cannot be solved by projects. Homosexuality is forbidden, the ambassador only said what is the law. So shouldn't the code you're asking for it say: don't drive in countries where same-sex lovers are jailed?

Just as. Fifa, Formula 1 and other sports associations should also consistently demand the implementation of the demands that they formulate in flowery words. And then say: You can bid as much money as you want, but we won't come. At the moment it is unfortunately still the case that as an organizer you can get away with it if you take a few nice photos. The fundamental problem is another.

That would?

There is still no authority that can demand consequences if an association does not meet the requirements it sets for itself. Formula 1 has set itself the goal of being climate neutral by 2030. Nice and good. But why can't it be checked by an independent and critical body along the way? To then live with the consequences and possible penalties, whatever they may look like? What happens if Formula 1 takes a wrong turn on the way to climate neutrality and doesn't meet its own demands? Or FIFA on the way to more equality and diversity? Unfortunately, at the moment it's like this: Formula 1 controls Formula 1, and Fifa controls Fifa.

But who should control the big associations?

There are independent instances that deal with all kinds of tests that could be won. But it would help if you didn't just set an abstract goal, but divided the way there into transparent intermediate stages. And then there's the general public, the fans in the stands, journalists reporting on it. And wouldn't that be a very, very broad, international and good control body? So I don't see why a lot of problems can't be solved with transparency.

It's a pity that you drive your last race. Actually, because of your sense of mission, you should be forced to continue to circle until retirement age.

Oh, I do not know ...

With all his love for Fernando Alonso, it is unlikely that he would be interested in anyone other than Fernando Alonso in his old racing days. And there is no one to be seen growing up as a political driver.

Every driver has his or her own issues... Maybe some drivers are still too young. But the climate issue will also come to the fore with them. Even if they don't want to.

After leaving Haas a year ago, Mick Schumacher is without a cockpit in Formula 1. Various driver's seats have become vacant in the past few weeks, but no team boss has thought of Schumacher. How do you explain that his services are not in greater demand?

It would be a shame for the sport if it lost Mick. We talked about the fact that in some cars you can't shine as a driver. And sometimes a driver and his car don't go together at all. Mick has had a difficult year, but has set his highlights and accents. As high as you sometimes fly in Formula 1, you can quickly fall again. Basically, you are never as good as people say you are. But you're never as bad as people say you are. Of course, I wish that Mick stays in Formula 1, because that would be very, very important for Germany's motorsport scene .

Nevertheless: You won your first race in the defeated Toro Rosso. Michael Schumacher amazed the world in a Jordan. How do you recognize a talent? And how do you recognize when a talent isn't that great after all?

It's a difficult subject for me: I know Mick better than most drivers and have known for a very long time. He has a lot of potential. Although he may not be the type to get in the car and run into everyone like some people are. Mick is someone who can always improve. This is his gift. But will it then come to the point where he regularly wins and competes for the title? I don't know that. Mick is still too young for such an assessment. I can only hope he gets the time to find out.

[cherubchoirs]

I like to think that when V2 gets revived, it just takes over the neighbouring apartment, claiming that there is no way its living under the same roof as V1 but it ends up spending most of its resting time hanging in their living room anyway because it gets very lonely in its own space and they are the only ones that talk with it because it wants to use their terminal to cybergrind.

OK can use this opportunity to talk about v2's relationship with v1 and gabriel after the initial phases that i've already gone over a bit!! v2 definitely does have an apartment right by theirs in fraud and while it's fairly icy with them at the beginning, it also finds having company much better than nothing and this becomes especially true as it gets more comfortable with gabriel. there's a lot about him that it understands, and he's the most human thing that will interact with it besides. and like. it GUESSES it owes him its new life or whatever. they begin talking fairly regularly, mostly about things that don't particularly matter but that they both have no one else for - much about aesthetics and the natural world (although v2 finds gabriel is much less philosophical than it would have thought an angel would be. so it goes). sometimes, given their verbosity, their conversations carry on and veer into deeper, more uncomfortable territory (their lost place, their respective falls from grace), but one or the other will find a reason to leave before it gets anywhere. v1 is a more complicated issue though.

despite gabriel's insistence that they're like family, v2 not only believes their objectives to be fundamentally at odds, but it also just. hates v1 for what it did. not just killing it, it could rationalize that out to it's own failure, it's own fault, but that it stole from it twice, that it destroyed the dreams that had carried it so far through hell. it knows as a machine, personal grudges like this are an oddity and likely show its ever-multiplying coding quirks, but its psychology has never aligned well with its kin. it does note v1 has changed with its exposure to gabriel, and it easily recognizes that it does love him, it shows him affection, care, and admiration in a way v2 never would have predicted. he changed something in it, it can see how they've moved each other and now are a part of one another...and v1 is making an effort on his insistence. it's certainly not being kind to v2, but it would hate it if it was - they trade sniping insults and constantly get into little scuffles, but the unfeeling hostility once present in v1 is gone. they can exist side-by-side, even swapping some inside jokes between them, and over time v2's reaction to it isn't so visceral....but there's a wall it refuses to take down. it doesn't trust it. maybe it does love gabriel and maybe it will keep loving him, but that's an extreme exception for v1, it knows that better than anyone. it knows how hard it must work against its own code to treat him the way it does, and it can't imagine it ever making so much effort for anyone else. it's inefficient. it's pointless. and so v2's convinced that thing would kill it still if it came to it. if it or v2 let their guard down.

still, it begins coming over more and more as it reaches a level of comfort it can accept - watching its back always, but spending entire afternoons or nights over at gabriel and v1's apartment. i like to think it gets them access to more human entertainment, bringing them movies and video games as an excuse for its presence (or otherwise definitely saying it just wants to cybergrind). it's sometimes gone for a few days at a time, off to a different "home" it has on one of the higher layers or even popping up to the surface, but it inevitably returns...and gabriel's glad to see it's ok every time. this leads to some concern on his part when v2 begins seeing michael more regularly, leading to much more significant lengths of time before it shows back up in their living room. v1 personally doesn't think much about it - maybe it's bored of them lol but gabriel pesters it a bit, making it realize that maybe it actually like. has a friend in gabriel. he worries about it, thinks about it when it's not there, and wants to know if it's ok. it's a weird feeling for it, but nice to consider. well. nice until gabriel comes poking around one of its other properties just to "check in (because it's been awhile and even v1 is wondering if you're dead so!!!)" and mike needs to immediately teleport while v2 tries to keep gabriel from coming in so it doesn't have to explain why it's growing multiple test fungal colonies!!

[wildpeachfarm]

ehh i will say that while dream fans were pretty awful in the earlier years, a lot of stuff did get misattributed to them because the fanbases were a lot more melded together then they are now. now theres very clear divides but especially with the dsmp a lot of fans were mixed together. also i will say, at least dream tries to call out his fanbase when he can, hes not perfect but at least he does it.

something that always frustrates me with the argument of stans being the reason why ccs are bitter is that yeah, i can see why they would be angry, i would be too, but not a single one of these ccs will call out their own fans. they will be angry that dreams stans attack them and direct that anger towards dream yet lack the self-awareness that their own fans do the same thing to other ccs and yet strangely, they never take the hit for it. for example, tommy, ranboo, and tubbo. their fans were fucking awful at the height of the dsmp, with attacking ccs over the prime path, michael, literally Anything. but somehow only dream takes the brunt of his fanbases actions, tommy, ranboo, and tubbo do not face the same bitterness from other ccs. like these ccs will sit and watch their fans call someone a pedophile, be queerphobic, etc. etc. and say Nothing but then turn around and complain when dream stans get pissy at them. it just seems a bit unfair to me.

fair argument tbh and I definitely think the "dream stan" title does get attribute to vile people in other fanbases unfairly but I have seen my fair share of actual dream fans go after people for very little reason just because there might be a /possibility/ that they are talking about Dream. Not 100% comparable but still something to note.

And yeah CCs have such an issue with not calling out their fanbase but personally to me, that seems like a good reason to stop engaging with them and giving them the reaction they so clearly want. We already know that the internet is unfairly against dream and his fans and for years now they have not budged in that. So to me, I don't really know why people are still putting in insane amounts of work to try to change the opinions of random people who have stayed strong in their dumb haterisms for years at this point. idk maybe that's just me.

I understand things like clearing up harmful misinfo or things like that, but when its CCs being vague at best or random stans being shady and hateful, I just don't see the worth in it when it could be unnecessarily dragging Dream's name into a weird position. idk if that makes sense 😭

[cheeseandbretboy]

the painting i continued (from longer than a year ago) has too bright white highlights so i need to get rid of them AND quite possibly it would be nice to just give up and do whaeter and get on the train just ot look at all the stations i havent seen before nd cvt and listten to whip your kids on repeat again and again and have no money to afford to eat and find someone who is just so ?? and mean but not in that non self absorbed self absorbed way and stupid because everyone has too much to look forward to and too much to complain about and that makes everyone so yucky and hypocritical and ughghurejne me whenni have work tmr ALSO need to print out more movie photos AND anyone i meet gets so human and i get sick of them so easily but not myself so i will always be alone and thats a good thing unless im not listening to music then it is not so good bc i can hear my breathing an feel my skin also what even is life without music its just ------------------ no ty i do not want to be like amber or ritchie but oh i did thrift their shoes and also jasons but hes kind of an L WAIT that makes so much sense anyway that scene where they are walking in the store with the heavy combat boots that have been discontinued (why?) and a shotgun wow! imagine being tricked by a soda can what a loser anyway the sehleves ive built are really nice and after doing that with hands blistered and joints sore i realised i can fit everythign insdie it and oh god im gonna lose absolutely everything! and thn something even WoORSE hit me that none of this even means anytnign, what the flip, imagine this format will stop and we only live in the real world what then maybe just maybe musicals make sense and then i bash my head into my desk HOW COULD U FOR A SECOND THINK MUSICALS ARE OKAY blood is spurting just likein that scene in longlegs dilf, jokes no maybe nicholas cage hes too pasty this has gotten long uve recently discovered this rly underground and unpopular artist michael jackson yea nobodies really heard of him sigh WHY DO I HAVEA FRENCH BOOK OH GOD IM GOING TO HELL people should put everything ive ever ever made into a bible because that is all i am and i am so happy that is true so yea put this in as well and all my assigmnets and paintings and digital art from 2019 and old drawings and scribbles and south park doodles and short stories ad gore and all the deleted notes of measurrements (sigh why phone) and dont forget all the photos and the annotations i rubbed out later cuz they sounded dumb and too personal remember always to make ur writing as obscure as possible because people always look to make everything about them hey emotions are really stupid our brains are amazing at finding information so much of it but our conciousness is preoccupied with other stupid stuff like education and being horny so all we get is emotions that have been processed information so hey our thinking brain really is in the back seat and we cant change it yk im bnad! im bad! u knowit really really bad megamind... evan peters is eyeing me rn.. i did a really good job of diverting my mental problems its actually really good but i am hoping we can get back to them once they get fixed and maybe this dependence wiol go away too right maybe and wait a darn second are you telling me i wont find myself a tim burton anti hero what the flip unbelievable may i get a refund never sell your doc martens just break them in please the blisters and pus and blood will pass and they will be great i swear unless theyre the max platform types then u might have to keep getting pain but thats okay god dont tell me i need to work in the future although when i watched the movie for the 2nd time in cinemas there was 3 seconds where there was a doctor with a mask and wowww maybe i shld become one of those but i dontthink i have the right motivation maybe neurobiology maybe quantum mechanics mabe maybe even both like quantum mind god thats interesting but only after biology i need to get worried abt climate change and then realise OH MY GOD NOTHING MATTERS BUT OUR MINDS and thats

[missielynne]

I agree so much that having Fran be anything other than truly in love with John is a slap in the face and eliminates a major part of what made the book arguably JQ's best or at least most poignant.

First of all, someone not loving their first spouse is already sooo common in romances, because for some reason writers think we'll only buy into the second chance love story if it turns out that this was the first and only time they ever REALLY loved someone. So JQ having Fran totally in love and happy with John was an incredibly refreshing, interesting deviation from the usual romance cliches.

Secondly and more importantly, if Fran wasn't really in love with John, that strips away all the emotional resonance of the story! The entire point of the book is that she struggles to let herself love someone else, that she feels like she's betraying John and even her own heart by letting herself be happy with Michael. And it's not just because Michael and John happen to be cousins, but because since pretty much the moment John and Francesca met, John was IT for her -- the only man she ever expected to love her entire life. If the increasingly disappointing Netflix series writers have decided to at least imply that she was just lukewarm about John to begin with, there's no tension, depth, complexity etc left to the story and therefore no point in telling it! Francesca would simply do what others widows in initially loveless marriages did and wait a "respectable" amount of time before marrying someone else (in her case, Michael) without feeling any emotional ambivalence, guilt or pain.

I agree with you about changing Michael to Michaela being a bad idea too, but that's getting a lot of attention---most people aren't bringing up the John thing (probably because they're normal and don't care like I do!) so I just wanted to say how happy I am that you agreed that's also a huge betrayal to the novel. I'm honestly wondering if I'll even keep watching.

It's great to know I'm not shouting to the wind either cause notes like this make me feel better about feeling bad, you know? And I literally read Franny's book recently enough that it's clear in my mind what happens so...yeah. Between that and it being one of my favorites, this change was not gonna go over well for me.

I just...I loved the Fran/John/Michael dynamic in the books and how its not just some trumped up rivalry over Francesca with Michael being jealous all the time and stuff like that. Michael and Francesca's feelings about each other and about John were so wonderfully described that yeah...that makes the change a slap more than anything. I wouldn't watch it if it wasn't something I was doing with a friend, but I have to keep telling myself that I have the book and that's where the real, genuine, GOOD version of Francesca's story is.

[originemesis]

@multipalz xxx

It had been a longer excursion than most the commanding archangel brought members of the 778's mortal-made on, and an unexpected but not unwelcome fray from a band of demonic mercenaries if only because their uncontestable leader was always one to welcome experience gathering for those that marched in the collosal shadow of his wingspan.

Of course, even when they were briefed beforehand to expect engagements with hell's forces, Abel never really understood the reasons why each battle unfolded as they did, nor did his absence of interest drive him to implore Michael later about what warranted an engagement in the first place. He wasn't one to perform optimally with too many working parts to consider when his own talent of detecting and transporting the wounded with him to a mending distance was so far removed from understanding why things happened other than the human translation that simplified it down to 'a reason'. An abstract concept like that was one's best defense against a being that tended to take words at their literal meaning. After all, it is easier to say no thank you to a walk with one's brother when the walk was actually something else entirely.

So when Michael told him to 'while we're down here-' go and see his Ma, well- he didn't consider the notion that he ought to clean up first. Still begrimed with the battle, he'd headed right over to where he now knew was his mother's dwellings nestled in a quiet corner of the hellscape and left the imprint of his fist in blood on the front door after giving it a couple of inquisitive knocks. Before it swung open, he noted some potted plants on the porch..tropical and still wilting a bit. To be expected in the overly warm temperatures, he surmised. The couple of cactuses looked healthy though.

Still eyeing the collection when the door finally parted its jamb, Abel only snapped to attention when another hesitant knock curled his knuckles through the air beyond the doorframe. With a blink, he met the startled gaze beyond nearly equal with his own and felt the patter beyond the breastplate of his armor miss it's pitter. Perhaps he...should have washed up first.

"...bad time?" He wondered, armor clinking with the subtle slump of his shoulders. "I can come back-" Or maybe not-...not with her grasping the plate over his elbow and tugging him along into the humble stead she'd made in the depths of hell. And now he was tracking the slimy outlines of his boots along it as he followed her, half limping, in. He remained quiet, but his gear clanged in protest as she finally turned and tugged an arm to drop him onto the nearest chair in her kitchen. The urge to tuck his legs up under him and rock the seat between its front and back supports like he'd done in the past while watching her create something remotely edible for dinner passed quick enough, though it takes the chill of a cold rag pressed to the drying blood on his temple to coax the spacey blank canvas in his gaze and cause the light of recognition to blossom back in familiar golden hues.

"You really don't have to do that-" He added, a hand poised as if to catch her wrist, but then unfolded and raised between her dabbing and his cheek like an unconvincing shield. "We usually hose off back at base, but I didn't think they'd let me back down after the fact."

A sheepish smile wormed it's way into the guilty corner of his lips, though a sputtery 'pluh!!?' dismisses it when the grimey rag drags over his mouth after his hand repelled the cheek cleaning a few times too many.

"Ma-aaa...! Really now-" But he lets her anyway, gripping the edges of the chair tight to endure the fate tied to the end of a mother's spitty napkin he didn't really mind if it meant spending what little time there was left before the withdrawal of the commander's squadron. "Who's Tired? You have a roommate now?" He mused, turning his head out of range from each dabbing attempt as he used the opportunity of a quickly changing line of sight to observe the little points of domestic interest around her place.

When he spots a miniature model of a lighthouse on a shelf above her sink, he finally holds still and lets her quiet fussing take him whichever direction she sees fit like the ever changing currents of limbo's sea around its collection of souls.

"Sometimes I think that maybe it chose me." The thought spills through as hapless as beams of light breaking the rough surface of a churning ocean in an attempt at coaxing the lost above water for a breath delayed. "Commander Michael did come for me after all. I owe him that much."

A sad smile nettles across pursed lips upon hearing her concerns. As it stood, there wasn't much either of them could do to alleviate those worries. But he'll catch her hand once it pauses against his temple and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "Come on, Ma. You can't lose me if you put me in your pocket." Yes. Yes he did just poke a finger into her pocket. "See~?"

[gracesshelves]

Jurassic Park (1993)

            Jurassic Park (1993) was based the book written by Michael Crichton. While this was not my first time watching Jurassic Park, I knew quotes from this movie before I ever saw it. In my opinion, this is the biggest blockbuster we’ve discussed so far. I would rate this four and a half out of five stars. As someone studying the Save the Cat method for my novel, it was so cool to see how clear the beats are in this film. The moments of building and releasing tension were so well crafted. I found myself getting stressed, even though I knew the characters I cared about would live. The characters feel so alive and even those who had smaller arcs, such as Dr. Grant learning to like children, had me emotionally invested. Speaking to the hubris of humanity, I believe Jurassic Park will always be relevant.

            As a new horror writer, I wanted to take notes while watching this movie. This comes as no surprise as the film was directed by Steven Spielberg, who’d already had a massive number of hits under his belt by 1993. The writing, acting, directing, and cinematography work together seamlessly. I particularly enjoyed how we switched between the two main groups in the most dramatic scenes. The camera work during the scene where the visitors are attacked by the T-rex heightens the fear by focusing on different characters' reactions and switching rapidly between them. I felt like we as the audience were looking around frantically with them, unable to see the dinosaur, yet experiencing its impact on the environment. The horror is hidden until we are at the edge of our seats, and then lighting strikes, revealing the dinosaur as it eats the goat. Spielberg maintains our fear by switching between Hammond and his employees in the office, and the people being attacked. We have moments of respite, but during that time we are thinking about what is happening to the kids. He does the same thing later in the film when Dr. Grant climbs over the electric gates with Tim and Lex, as Dr. Sattler turns the power back on. Seeing both perspectives makes it more stressful because we know how close she is to turning it back on, versus how slow the other three are climbing. At one point Dr. Grant told the kids to take their time and I yelled out loud: “No! Go faster!”.

            I admired so much the way this movie was structured, however, there was one thing that bothered me a little bit. You can only do so much character growth in a movie with this big of a cast, but I would have liked to see more from Dr. Sattler, Ian Malcolm, and Tim. I picked up on three arcs of change: Hammond realizing his hubris, Dr. Grant learning to like kids, and Lex being able to face her fear to save her brother. These arcs were done so well and did not take time away from the story to complete, that I wished we had seen growth from the other three. If they’d had less screen time, I would be more okay with them being flat, but they were in so much of the movie that I wanted more. Again, this is a very picky complaint, but I think it would’ve just leveled up this already great movie even higher.

            The whole theme of humans getting their hands on a power they don’t know how to control reminded me of how we treat technology today. We are making progress in so many fields, especially AI, but I don’t think we are spending enough time considering how this will affect our society. Tech companies may have some good intentions, like Hammond did in the film, but ultimately what they are creating has the potential to hurt a lot of people. Already people have used AI to create sexually explicit images of others as a way to harm them. We’ve seen so many cautionary tales, and yet we do not seem to be taking their advice. Hopefully, before anything else happens, we can sit and think about potential consequences. Personally, I do not want to be eaten by the AI “dinosaur”.

[goldenfreddys]

you can ignore this it's for my own terrible convoluted reference <3

where did I put my math. I need to start writing dates and ages down of shit in the AU because I never remember what I said.

erm. gonna figure that out one sec

auuugh in 1979 William and Henry are like. mid 20s (William is 24, Henry is 27) and they meet at university and hit it off. question one what are they majoring in and what level of degree are they trying to get + how long would that take.

(tentative date) 1983 EDIT sorry it was 1982 I had written down they open fredbears. Sammy and Charlie are born a year later in 1983

BEGRUDGINGLY EXPANDS THE CANVAS FOR THE TIMELINE BACKWARDS

Michael was born in Newcastle upon Tyne, England, in 1977 and I can't move that around too much without moving the rest of the dates around too which is TOO COMPLICATED. He's like 2 years old when William moves to Massachusetts and unfortunately he has to come because he's a baby and even more unfortunately William is his only parent. (note: no longer have to worry about british accent Micheal because he does not remember britain he was too smalls) (he probably still picked up William's various slang and linguistic habits though)

William was like. late teens early 20s when Michael was born one second also gotta check the legal drinking age in england. its 18 (and it doesn't seem to have changed at all since the mid 60s at least) (SORRY MY ASS IS MAKING SHIT SO COMPLEX RN)

okay so say he's 22 years old when Michael is born which means HE was born in. 1955. okay

I'm gonna say Henry was born in 1952 so he was a couple years older than Will (27 when they met and 30 when they opened Fredbears) (I think this actually works out hold on)

Henry met Martha slightly after he became friends with William and they got married a few years later (he didn't really register that William being so horrifically down bad for him was even a thing until after he married Martha and well now it doesn't matter how either of them feel about it because he's a good honest married man and he'd never ever betray his wife)

uhhhh .... is that everything I needed to iron out?? hopefully. prpbably not

[where-theres-smoak-2]

Okay so that SaB S2 ending! The show runner—Eric Heisserer(sp?)—is a big crows fan but he said that they just loved Jessie so much. Alina and she have really become the “bedrock” of their mother show—Shadow and Bone and they had to keep her. I’m sure they had other reasons. One of them being that they know how lame her ending was in book 3 but they’ll never admit that. He also said that Mal needs to go find himself, now that he’s lost his purpose. I laughed because dude, just admit that he had no personality beyond nice guy who helps Alina. Not to mention bland love interest. Finally, he said that regarding Alina’s turn for the dark, the Darkling has been “quite honest with her” about the cost of power and that she’ll realize that everything he’s prophesied that will happen to her very well could come true.

Whatever the reasons behind the change, I’m happy for the change because it opens the door for so much—including Darklina! Just imagine, in S3, as she grapples with the corruption and darkness growing in her, she starts yearning for Aleksander, maybe reluctantly but she still starts looking for him. She could go back to that fountain, hold his ring, visit his old chambers etc etc, thinking about him, what he would say, the advice he’d give and just generally wishing he was there because he’s the only one who truly KNOWS, though she’d never admit her longing. Even if Nikolai is also infected, no one will truly truly know other than Aleksander. It’s the whole no one is like us thing. Think of the possibilities! The angst! The drama! Not to mention the possibility for a darklina endgame! Or do you think they’ll have her overcome that darkness (with or without Aleksander’s help) and ultimately still end up with Mal? I do think that the Darkling will be back because Ben Barnes is the most popular fan favorite on that show even more so than Alina or the crows and besides, it’s canon that he comes back in KoS. But still I think they’ll go for the latter unfortunately and have Mal and Alina reconnect in the end. Eugh. I mean why even keep Mal around? But who knows! I never imagined that they’d change the ending for book 3 so much and hint at a corruption arc for Alina. That’s pretty ballsy! So…maybe? Maybe they’re down for a complete endgame change. I dunno, what do you think?

(Ok weird spoiler alert but spoiler alert for vampire diaries, roswell/roswell new mexico and shadowhunters books and shows ships and endgames. It'll make sense when you read it I promise.)

I think anything is possible. They did drastically change the ending of the third book for the show so that does kind of leave it up in the air. I do think that the showrunners are aware of how unpopular the ending was which likely influenced their decision, of course they can't say that. But I also think they are aware that malina is not a very popular ship that doesn't generate much or any buzz really, not like darklina and other ships on the show do. Its also worth noting that there are other shows that changed the end games from their book counter parts. The Vampire diaries books for example, as written by the og author, ends with stefan and elena together but the show went for a delena endgame, which I believe was the more popular ship. In shadowhunters Luke ends up with Maryse Lightwood in the show but in the books its Jocelyn he ends up with. Then you've got the Roswell books and tv shows who take the cake for swapping ships about all over the place. In the books Max ends up with Liz, Michael with Maria, and Isabel has something going on with Micheal's brother trevor who doesn't appear in the show. There are other love interests in the books that don't show up in the og show as well, nikolas, adam and cameron for example. Then you have the og show where the ships end kind of similar with max and liz, Micheal and maria but Isabel is married to Jesse although similar to isabel and trevor in the books Isabel and jessie though they love each other go their separate ways, there is also a whole romance between Max and Tessa who is a character that was not from the books. Honestly when it comes to the newer Roswell New Mexico series I don't know what's going on with it anymore because I stopped watching it like halfway through season 2, but that adds new ships as well like Alex and Michael. The point is when it comes to shows and ships you never know what they are going to do. Sometimes they stick with the books, sometimes they put characters that are in the books together but in different pairings and sometimes they invent whole new characters to act as love interests.

I don't know whether they will go for a darklina end game but I don't think its out of the question especially if they are going with the corruption arc for Alina. It really could go either way they could have Alina and darkling go down a darker path together but then both redeem themselves at the end by sacrificing themselves for ravka, it could be just Aleks sacrificing himself, it could be that Alina is redeemed and ends up with mal after all, after he's gone off and discovered himself. It really is a anything could go situation so I would say don't give up hope for a darklina endgame. I won't until I see the last scene of the last season.

Irregardless I do think the change at the end of season 2 is going to open the door for alot of darklina content which I am really excited about. I did like what you said about Alina pining for Aleks and revisiting the fountain, the war room, his chambers and playing with his rings, honestly I would love to see that. If she also thinks she keeps seeing him about the place or even dreams about him, it would be even better.

[noendsonlymeans]

i just have some thoughts to dump .

i first heard of wednesday a few years ago and "fate is..." was definitely in my top 5 most listened to songs on spotify in 2021 or 22. i didnt know til recent that mj lenderman was a member and didnt know til like yesterday that they might be even better (to me!!!!!).

my first full listen to their live album they put out in later 2023 was yesterday and it changed things for me. embarrassingly enough i only took interest in tyler childers a few months ago. after this neocountry ( i know thats not what its actually called ) awakening within me ive been on a quest to find a good country sounding band that fused with my other genres of interest well. like better than pinegrove well. a honky tonk shoegaze project would be an incredible thing to stumble on, though no im not sure how its going to work with time keeping and all that whatever, no ones proven to make it happen since. but mj is the closest i have ever gotten.

about halfway through the album, i was able to identify something about mjl's familiar vocal... cadence? and place it with neil young. from referencing dylan, john daly, rodeo clowns, michael jordan, tom brady, jack nicholson, jackass, and rust on a grill left in the rain, american citizenship and our often borderline-unbelievable and ever-entertaining popular culture in the digital age help define mjl's sound, especially on this combination of previous releases. from ethel introducing gen z coastals to dale sr. to realtree camo being in casual rotation in an urbanites closet for work or dive hopping, americas "middle" aesthetics are becoming more recognized and thus more commodified. as someone raised in the rural midwest to now residing in the urban midwest, the sudden "trendiness" of articles of clothing or topics of conversation that used to embarrass you if your dad sported either in public, is both affirming and maddening. if you have ever been to a meat raffle, if the deer and fishing openers were treated like holidays in your hometown, or if youve ever resided at a residence within 1 mile of a "trump store", then you know there is a certain valor that comes with it. it wasnt pleasant. it wasnt comfortable. but it was something you did, you survived, and you still probably feel like home there. im getting incredibly off topic and wil probably revisit this concept in a seperate manor........

anyways all that above is to be said because i need you all to know that i do recognize the sin i am committing in this next statement which is to refer mjl's voice with noneother than ontarian neil young. their tenor-ish ranges, along with each of their tendencies to undermix in favor of a raw, though mjl isnt pushing any major life lessons or reflecting on their 20s in any of this album (yet).

knockin, the second track, is where i officially got hooked. i love bob dylan. i love obscure interpolations used within songs. but the only other artist to reference a lyric as common as "knocking on heavens door" that comes to mind IMMEDIATELY is lana, and mjl did it complete justice. on similar note, rudolph was able to become a highlight for me for, once again, a dylan interpolation.

screaming "you are very girl to me!" doesnt have the same affect as passively referring to a love gone as simply "a sunday", but mjl's lyrics immediately reminded me of a few childers lyrics. i cant help but think these asheville guys are childers fans due to the addition of the cover of 'long black veil'. yeah sure its a classic country!, but mjl's lyricism suggests to me that this is more of a reference to a reference, of course referring to "jersey giant" (ORIGINALLY BY TYLER CHILDERS).

dunno how to wrap these. i was just so so impressed with this album and happy i finally bit the bullet and took the internets suggestion to give them a chance.

8.5/10, id like to listen to their discog and hear the studio versions of each song as well.

[cccrhirdb1]

week 3 tangata whenua notes in class

first of all in class we reflected on the homework - catherine realised her mistake in telling us not to read the 18 page reading now since I only did a half baked method of the reading I do not have as much understanding as some of my peers who read much more (in terms/context of the article Mere Roberts (Ngāti Apakura, Ngāti Hikairo). et al. Whakapapa as a Māori mental construct: Some implications for the debate over genetic modification of organisms.)

reflect/mindmap about what is whakapapa

we had a brown piece of paper that was really hard to read because we used both sides of it to do mindmaps!!!! so I do not have a copy of that photo but we were basically asked

what is whakapapa

and in our group we said well whakapapa is relation to the whenua (land) and mana whenua (people who are from a specific location) and tangata whenua (people of the land).

we also said its about lineage and geanology, being able to locate where you are from (which is where catherine gave us the work papa to mean layers (which links to papatuanuku earth mother and whakapapa))

we talked about how in terms of the kumara whakapapa as an idealogy is violated because the dna is changed which means you can no longer locate where it is/where it should be.

there was this quote from the article "to know something is to locate it within whakapapa"

whakapapa is something that applies to all beings, whether human or not human it matters on some level. because in western society we are so human centred our science is so removed from people.

Discuss: Now go back to the artwork your group discussed. How does this information extend or develop your initial discussion? Is there a key quote from the source that helps you make this connection?

our mind map on the lighthouse by michael parekowhai - it says/notes the things we discussed about the work, especially noting on the statue of james cook with the reflected stars which both he and kupe (and other maori navigators) used to be able to find their place in the sea and get to New Zealand.

talked alot about how the work references displacement to maori from their land because of colonisation and how in turn this takes them away from their whakapapa and then how the government then needs to build houses to help these people they have impoverished (is that the right use of the word)??

I liked hearing how the artist also views the work as taking up space in prime real estate as a way of fighting back through art. taking back his land and coming back into connection with his whakapapa (even though he is not from Tāmaki Makaurau) taking the land back on behalf.

Assignment preparation: Share the examples of design/art you found for your own assignment for independent study.

You can do this as a 'cold reading', that is; see if others can work out what key term/s from the brief they relate to, and what your key points about the example might be.

Or, you can present your ideas so far and give each other feedback on ways you could extend these.

Take notes of ideas, connections, suggestions that might help you extend your initial thinking around the example.

we did not do this.