#Beyond the 49th

[rottenpumpkin13]

oh no, someone has hacked into the system and replaced everyone in Shinra’s ringtones with rickrolls :)

Sephiroth: Unfamiliar with the concept of a rickroll. He assumes someone swapped his usual ringtone with an oddly catchy song. He gets a call, hears the song, feels unexpectedly intrigued, and picks up, though part of him wants to let it play. The next time his phone rings, he listens longer, bobs his head and enjoys the song. He's nearly tempted to keep it and is utterly baffled by why Zack yells "DAMN IT!" every time his phone goes off.

Zack: His phone rings five times, he gets rickrolled five times and the reactions are: 1) "Aw man!" 2) "Dang it! I thought I changed it back!" 3) "WHAT THE FUCK?" 4) *sobbing* HELP WHAT DO I DO!?" 5) *screaming as he throws his phone from the 49th floor*

Genesis: The first notes catch him off guard, so with a knee-jerk reaction, he sets his phone on fire. The music somehow persists through the flames, which is how half of SOLDIER witnesses Commander Rhapsodos fleeing into the men's room with a flaming phone in hand, before flushing it down the toilet.

Angeal: Entirely convinced this is Zack's handiwork and flatly refuses to change it himself. Every time it rings he shouts "ZACK!" and waits until Zack shows up to protest his innocence. Zack's been lectured fifteen times.

Kunsel: Amused beyond words at Zack's repeated scoldings because he's the one who set the whole thing up.

Lazard: He took it all in fun until a crucial board meeting when his phone went off. Everyone was silent, the president looked unimpressed, and Reeve began nodding along to the music.

Reno: Unbothered, delighted even. He lounges in the Turks' break room with a list of every contact he has. He rickrolls everyone. He calls Tseng 28 times in ten minutes.

Tseng: By the twenty-eighth ring, Tseng calmly hurls his phone into Rufus' coffee. Rufus stares at him as though Tseng's just lost his mind.

[railwayhistorical]

Manhattan Night

[I've posted this before, but had another go at optimizing the scans of the medium format negatives.]

These two views were taken from the roof of a Manhattan building, on 22nd Street, looking uptown. Beyond the main subject here, the Empire State Building, another icon of the Manhattan skyline can be seen—the RCA Building. It is just to the left of the Empire State Building, bathed in light, but also lost in fog.

At the time of this photograph, the RCA Building had been renamed the GE Building, and would eventually come to be known as 30 Rockefeller Plaza. Also at this time: the ESB stood out almost in a singular fashion between the downtown cluster of skyscrapers (around Wall Stree) and the midtown cluster. Since then, the skyline has grown considerably to take away from this prominence.

The Empire State Building is located between 33rd and 34th Streets, and the RCA building between 49th and 50th Streets—while both lie between 5th and 6th Avenues.

Two images by Richard Koenig; taken in December of 1994.

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 4, Chapter 3

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness? Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 4 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

————–

PART 4

Chapter 3

Several days later…

The streets were quiet. Again.

Matt perched on the rooftop of one of the new residential buildings on West 49th street, and took the pulse of the city spread out below him.

It was quiet. Eerily so.

The drug pushers that usually worked the streets near the convention centre were gone. The network of muggers and pickpockets around the bus terminal had been disbanded. The smugglers and traffickers who ruled the docks were out of business.

Matt had spent the the last week intercepting the odd car jacker and petty thief, but the organised crime gangs that used to keep him busy on patrol were just…gone. According to Karen, a mysterious figure named Ronin had cleaned up the neighbourhood - and the rest of New York - soon after ‘The Vanishing’. He’d been so effective in his methods that no one had dared rekindle any sort of criminal enterprise in the years since.

Which meant Ronin had done in 6 months what Matt had failed to do in 3 years: make Hell’s Kitchen safe.

Unfortunately, he’d done it through a whole lot of brutal slaughter and intimidation. And no matter the end result, Matt could never condone those sorts of means.

Besides, he knew it wouldn’t last. Not now that all of the career criminals and would-be underworld rulers who’d disappeared five years ago were back. Once they figured out the lay of this new land, they’d start trying to claim their piece of it. They’d fill the voids left by those before them, undeterred by urban myths about a hooded samurai. Criminals would once again infect this city, and Matt would be there, ready to stop them.

Including Landon Cross.

All the money and influence in the world hadn’t stopped him from falling victim to the random fate of Thanos’ snap. He’d disappeared five years ago, upending the entire timeline of his grand plan of revenge against his family. The criminal empire he’d been building had tumbled down without him at the helm…but he’d be back too. Once he licked his wounds and found his new footing, he’d be back. Men like him - entitled, narcissistic sociopaths - didn’t have the capacity to admit defeat and slink off into the night.

He’d be back. And in the meantime, Matt would wait. And use the time to re-familiarise himself with his home.

His first venture out as Daredevil had been disorientating. He was used to New York real estate changing - it was constantly in flux, with buildings being demolished and new skyscrapers being erected all the time - but those changes were slow and gradual. Easy to adapt to.

They didn’t usually happen in the blink of an eye.

Right now, Hell’s Kitchen felt like a stranger. The streets he’d grown up on, lived on, worked on, walked on…they were all alien to him now. Storefronts were boarded up. Dozens of new businesses had replaced the ones he’d frequented his whole life. The silhouette of the skyline had drastically changed, as if someone had picked up buildings like they were lego blocks and shifted them around. 

Earlier tonight, Matt had ventured beyond the streets of his neighbourhood, too ‘see’ for himself how much New York had altered. Citi Field - once home of the Mets - was now weather-beaten and crumbling, with hundreds of rusted cars abandoned in the parking lot around the vacant stadium. The harbour around Ellis Island was filled with boats, their waterlogged cabins sloshing with the tide, and the rotted wood of their hulls creaking. The normally manicured gardens of Central Park were overgrown jungles. Times Square - normally buzzing with tourists and the sounds of thousands of neon lights - was vacant. Silent.

Everywhere he turned, there was decay and neglect. As if life hadn’t moved on at all after 2018.

As if the whole world had ended, instead of just half of it.

Matt found it all depressing as hell. This wasn’t the resilient, irrepressible city he knew.

Where was the fight? Where was the tenacious spirit? The unbeaten strength?

Had everyone really just…given up…five years ago?

———

There was one bright spot among the grey and lifeless remains. A small beacon of vitality and warmth that had escaped the apathetic, subdued and defeated air that seemed to permeate the rest of the city. It was the house that Karen shared with her daughter, Izzy, in a quiet residential area just north of Brooklyn.

Matt visited for the first time just over a week after his return. He stood on the porch, gift in hand, shifting on his feet as he waited for Karen to answer the door. He touched the paper in his pocket, smoothing his thumb over the now barely perceptible ink as if needing to take strength from the words. And he did need a bit of strength - he felt nervous as hell.

Which was ridiculous. Karen was one of his closest friends. They’d had dinner numerous times over the years. And when she’d called him up yesterday to invite him over for a home-cooked meal, the offer had been a casual one.

But he was still nervous. Because he wasn’t just having dinner with Karen - he was meeting her daughter for the first time. And, for some reason, it felt vitally important that the almost 2-year-old girl living in this house liked him.

The door opened before he could psych himself out any further.

“Hi! Welcome!” Karen’s happy greeting sounded a little too forced, her voice pitched a touch higher than normal. To his relief, Matt realised she was just as nervous as he was.

“Hey, Karen.” Matt stepped closer and brushed his lips against her cheek. “Thank you for having me over,” he replied.

Karen frowned. Then she covered her face with her hand and laughed. “This is weird, isn't it? We’ve had dinner so many times, and we’ve been in each others’ apartments loads other times, but suddenly we’re acting all formal with each other.”

Matt shrugged as she ushered him inside. “This isn’t like before. Not really.”

“I guess. But I want it to be. I don’t want there to be any weirdness between us. I want us to be friends again.”

“Hey,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll always be friends.”

“I know. I didn’t really mean it like that. I just…I feel like we need to re-learn our rhythm. To get back to how we used to be.” She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m not explaining myself very well.”

“No, you are. I get it.”

He did get it. And ‘re-learning the rhythm’ was a good way to put it. It described the way Matt felt about the whole world these days - like he was slightly out of step with everything around him.

Off kilter, and out of place.

Dancing to a beat that hadn’t been heard in five years.

He touched the note in his pocket again, knowing it was part of the reason he felt so disoriented by this new reality. One of the other reasons - the literal personification of the changes that had taken place in his absence - chose that moment to make her presence known. “Momma?”

Karen looked up as the small voice called out to her. She smiled. “Someone’s awake from her nap.”

Matt swallowed, the nerves returning. He’d faced off against gangs of thugs and an army of ninjas. He’d taken down a cabal of immortal tyrants, and a Kingpin who’d terrorised the city. And yet he was scared to meet one little girl. “I’ll wait down here while you see to her,” he said.

“Don’t be silly,” Karen replied, grabbing his arm. “Come on.”

She led him up the stairs to the small nursery at the front of the house. She pushed open the door, and an excited squeal sounded from inside. Matt could sense a crib up against the wall and a tiny figure gripping the bars, bouncing up and down on her little legs. “Momma!”

“Hi, Izzy-Bizzy,” Karen murmured lifting the little girl into her arms. “Oof, you’re getting so big.”

“Big!” Izzy repeated.

“Soon you’ll be able to climb out of this thing yourself, and then what will I do?” She nuzzled into the toddler’s neck and Izzy laughed. The two of them seemed lost in their own little world, a world of coconut-scented hair, and stuffed bears, and the stars that spun on a mobile above the crib.

Matt felt so out of place, a lumbering shadow in the corner of the room. He tried to edge towards the door, but Karen noticed before he could escape. She turned around and brought her daughter closer. “Izzy, this is a friend of mine. He’s called Matt. Can you say ‘hello’?”

Matt expected the little girl to shy away. To bury herself in Karen’s arms, safe from the dark figure looming over her. But she was as fearless as her mom. She reached out one arm and waved at him. “Hello! Hi!,” she greeted him, not a hint of fear in her piping little voice.

Matt smiled and touched the tip of his finger to her outstretched palm. “Hi.”

She grabbed his finger and wiggled it up and down. Karen laughed. “She just learned about shaking hands,” she explained.

“Oh, in that case” - Matt arranged their hands until they were clasped together properly, his large hand swallowing her fragile little fingers, and gently shook up and down - “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Isabelle.”

The little girl burst into giggles, and Karen joined her laughter, pressing a kiss to her sleep-tussled curls. Karen shook her head at Matt, and smiled. “Another female charmed by Matt Murdock.”

Matt smiled, knowing he was the one who was thoroughly charmed.

———

The charm offensive continued throughout dinner, and afterwards when they all retreated to the cosy living room. As evening bled into night, and as Matt reclined in one of the softly-cushioned sofas, comfortably full from Karen’s cooking, Izzy toddled over to him. “Read?” she asked, thrusting a large book at him.

Before he could respond, she scrambled up onto sofa and wriggled into the space beside him, getting comfortable for what must be her nightly routine.

Matt smiled ruefully as he turned the book in his hands. “I can’t read this to you, I’m afraid.”

“Why?”

Karen saved him from having to try to explain the concept of blindness to a toddler. She entered the room, coffees in hand, and noticed his predicament. “Oh honey, Matt can’t read books like that. His eyes don’t work like yours and mine do.”

Matt could sense Izzy looking up at him. Then she clambered into his lap, reached up and removed his dark glasses. Pudgy little fingers pressed against his face as she tilted it one way and another, inspecting the eyes in question.

“Izzy!” Karen admonished. “Sorry, Matt, she hasn’t grasped the concept of personal space yet. Let me get her off you.”

“She’s okay,” he replied, submitting to the little girl’s scrutiny. He didn’t mind the weight of her on his lap, or the none-too-gentle exploring fingers. Warmth radiated from her skin and her breath smelled like the tinned peaches she’d had for dessert, and he had the sudden urge to take her in his arms and cuddle her close.

He’d never seriously thought about having children. Growing up, it had seemed like too far-off a possibility to contemplate. Then, when he reached the age of contemplation, his lifestyle had been too dangerous and chaotic for children. And when he discovered Calina couldn’t have kids, he’d put any and all thoughts of fatherhood away.

But sitting here, with this bundle of energy and sweetly mischievous innocence in his lap, he finally understood the impulse. She was a little miracle. He could sense fragments of Karen’s character within her, but she was her own little person, bravely exploring the world around her.

Having finished her exploration of his ‘different’ eyes, the little miracle grabbed the book from his hands, and turned around to face Karen. “Momma?”

“You want me to read instead?”

Izzy nodded.

“Do you want to come sit with me?”

She shook her head, and flopped back against Matt, settling into the crook of his arm.

“Okay then,” Karen smiled. She sat back in her own chair and started reading the tale of Kevin the Koala. Her voice took on a soft, slow, lilting tone - one which had a dramatically soporific effect on the little girl in Matt’s arms. Within minutes, her eyes fluttered closed. Her little breaths got deeper and her negligible weight got a little more tangible as she drifted off to sleep. 

“Is it always this quick?” Matt whispered. The only thing he knew about babies and sleep was that it was usually a struggle.

“Not always. But she had a swimming lesson this afternoon and that tends to wear her out.” Karen’s voice was shaky as she replied. A little broken. As if she was holding back tears.

“Are you okay?”

She laughed quietly. “Just a little overwhelmed, I guess. Seeing you two together, it’s kind of surreal. I thought about this so much when I was pregnant, and when Izzy was a baby. Of how you and Foggy would be with her…I just never thought I’d get a chance to find out.”

Matt smiled sadly, the spectre of those missing five years raising its head again. It was impossible to escape, even for a moment. Everything around him was a haunting reminder of the time he’d lost. From this house, and the journey here earlier tonight - down streets he didn’t recognise - to the toddler asleep on his lap, and the note burning a hole in his pocket…

“How are you adjusting?” Karen asked, as if sensing the direction of his thoughts. “We haven’t had a chance to really talk about that - Izzy takes up a lot of the air in the room.”

“In a good way,” Matt smiled.

“In a very good way - it’s hard to be depressed or worried when she’s around. But I want to know how you’re doing.”

Matt huffed out a laugh. “I’m still waiting to wake up, if I’m honest. It doesn’t seem real.”

“It’s a lot to take in. But it’s only been eight days - it’ll get easier.”

Matt wasn’t so sure. He felt like there was only one thing that would make this easier, and it wasn’t time.

“Have you heard from Calina?” Karen asked, reading his mind again.

Matt sighed and fished the note from his pocket, careful not to wake Izzy. He held it up to show Karen.

“What is that? Braille?”

Matt nodded. “I found it shoved under my apartment door a couple of nights ago.” He rubbed his thumb over the raised dots on the piece of paper. He knew the pattern of those dots - and the short message they conveyed - by heart now. “‘Calina is alive and safe. She’ll be with you in a couple of weeks’,” he recited.

“Why does that sound like a badly written ransom note?”

Matt laughed. “I’m hoping it was written by one of the more…socially inept…Widows, and it wasn’t meant to come across so-”

“Vaguely threatening?”

“Yeah.”

“But its good news, though. Calina’s alive. She’s safe.”

That had been his first thought too, when he’d discovered the note in his hallway after returning from a night of patrolling. He’d collapsed to his knees with relief, his head bowed as he fought back tears. The confirmation that she was still out there, still breathing, her beautiful heart still beating…it was all he’d been praying for after returning to this strange world to find her gone.

But over the next few days, as he carried the note in his pocket - his fingers constantly drawn to it like a talisman - he realised the message carried with it far more questions than answers.

“If she’s so safe, why didn’t she contact me herself?” he asked Karen, voicing one of those questions.

“She could be on a classified mission, way off the grid. That wouldn’t be unusual for her.”

Matt nodded. It was one of the possibilities he’d considered. Although the idea of it just served to remind him how different her life was now. She’d been on missions - dangerous ones - multiple times over the past five years. She’d risked her life God-knows how many times.

And she was still off somewhere unknown, instead of here with him.

“What was she like, after it happened?” he forced himself to ask, not sure he wanted the answer.

Karen sighed. Then she was silent for several long moments, as if trying to order her thoughts - which made Matt even more hesitant to hear the truth.

“She struggled at first. A lot,” Karen finally replied. “I worried about her those first couple of years. She tried to hide how much she was hurting, but not very well. Then…”

“Then what?”

“Something changed. She seemed to get better. Stronger.”

Something in Karen’s voice worried Matt. “What aren’t you saying?”

“She became…not cold, exactly. But…more reserved. More remote. She was still kind and caring - you should see her with Izzy, the two of them adore each other - but a large part of her seemed walled off. I think she took all her pain and grief and buried it so far down inside that that she ended up burying some of her heart along with it.” Karen winced at what she must have seen on his face. “I’m sorry. I’m not saying this to hurt you-”

“I know.”

“But I think…when you do see her again, you need to be prepared for the change in her.”

“I don’t care how much she’s changed. I just want to see her. Talk to her. I need to. I miss her so much, Karen.” He felt like he was floundering in this new world. Adrift without his anchor. He could put on a good act when he needed to - like tonight - laughing and talking as if he was adjusting to this upheaval. But in reality, it felt like only his body had returned a week ago…

His heart and soul were still missing.

————–

Chapter 4

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @sio-ina-bottle @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy @chezagnes

If you’d like to be added - let me know!

[ecargmura]

Frieren: Beyond Journey's End Episode 12 Review - What Makes A Hero?

What makes a hero? To be chosen by a legendary sword? To help people in need? To be the one who defeats the demon boss? There aren’t any specific requirements, honestly. However, in this world’s case, Himmel fit two of those categories and he was revered as a hero for the rest of time. Which option does not apply to him? The first one.

Frieren and her party reach the Village of the Sword where they meet the 49th village chief, a little girl. She was a bit upset that Frieren took too long to return to the village, as she promised she’d be back; though, this was in her grandmother’s will. Basically, this part of this episode emphasized a lot on Himmel’s sword, which was said to be the legendary sword, but his is a replica. Himmel set off on a journey to become a real hero because a boy named Heiter told him he’d only be a fake hero if he wielded a fake sword; said Heiter is the same Heiter in the party. Despite Himmel becoming revered as the hero after defeating the Demon King, it turns out that he did it without being the chosen hero; yes, the legendary sword has yet to be pulled out from the stone slab. Himmel actually failed to pull it out, signifying he wasn’t the chosen hero, but still became the hero everyone needed. Frieren’s words about heroes being romanticized is correct. That was why the legendary sword tale was passed around, so that people would assume Himmel was the one who pulled out the sword and defeated the Demon King without knowing the full truth; it’s like saying “history is biased” in a way.

Anyways, I thought Stark was going to pull out the sword, but it makes sense why he wouldn’t. The main reason being that he doesn’t have self-worth; it wouldn’t make sense for someone with rock-bottom self-esteem like Stark to suddenly have the courage to pull out the sword. The second part of this episode emphasized this. As Fern contemplates on what to get Stark for his birthday, Stark tells her a bit of his past and how he was the runt of his family and how he was never valued by his family save for his older brother Stolz. In fact, before the second part came, Stark stared at the sword and thought about his brother and how heroic he was. He probably thought if someone was a good candidate to be the hero and pull out the sword, it’d be Stolz.

Stark’s low self-esteem came from how his father viewed him as a failure. Fortunately, Stolz was a very good older brother and treated Stark kindly. He didn’t care if Stark got his pure white cloak muddied, he still taught his little brother how to stance properly when wielding a weapon. He didn’t care if he told Stark to run away and only save himself; as long as Stark was alive, that mattered most to him. He didn’t care if he was the only one celebrating Stark’s birthday by making him a large hamburg steak; as long as Stark enjoyed his birthday meal then that mattered most to him. It clearly showed that while he was the village’s pride and joy, he was still human enough to value Stark as both family and a warrior. At least Stark finally realized as he had his birthday patty that he was actually valued by both his master and his brother. It’s ambiguous if Stolz is still alive or not. If he is dead, then Stark has a reason to go to Aureole as he can meet his brother’s spirit there. I’m glad that there was at least someone kind in Stark’s life before he met Eisen. Stark really needs a confidence booster; I hope that the more he travels with Frieren and Fern, the more confident he becomes.

Though, I do wonder why Fern keeps accusing Stark of being a pervert when he’s anything but. Okay, he did make boob and poop jokes when it came to the clouds, but Stark is just a childish and immature person. He was only trying to be nice to Fern but gets called a pervert three times. You know who’s the real pervert? Frieren. It makes sense she’d have some perverseness in her as she’s lived for a millennia. The way she smugly looked at Fern as she tried to hand her a clothes dissolving potion was hilarious in execution and payback. Frieren is the first person to get naked in this show, albeit by force.

The animation in this episode was really good from small details like Fern’s dangling sleeves to intricate stuff like the fight against the monsters. Madhouse really does deliver when they want to. Also, there’s also that scene where Frieren looks at a ring in her bag. That ring appeared in the opening and she did hold onto it in an early episode. I can tell it’s an important item later on.

Overall, I did like the lesson that this episode told: not all heroes are chosen. Some heroes step up when they are needed and become the ones everyone needs. I don’t mind the chosen one stories (and I still do like them), but it’s nice to have fantasy stories where the hero wasn’t a chosen hero. I do wonder if the chosen hero in Frieren’s world will appear one day. If they do, will they join her party? What are your thoughts on this episode?

[asnowfern]

Shouting Down The Void

Summary: In a world where all men have been drafted to fight an off-world war, Feyre decides that she’s done waiting at home. Sci-Fi/Modern AU.

A/N: Don’t ask me what’s going on. I’m not sure🙃

CW: NSFW content

Read on AO3

Feyre instinctively tilted her head to the side, giving better access to the warm mouth pressing kitten kisses down the side of her neck. Her lips parted to release a breathless gasp as strong arms snaked around her middle. 

Feyre turned her head to meet her husband. Violet eyes twinkled as he captured her into a heart melting kiss, sucking on her lips, his tongue pliant against hers. Paint brushes clanked against the soft wood panels of the floor as her hands busied themselves with the back of his neck and hair. She sighed into the kiss, "Rhys". 

Feyre opened her eyes, her hand palmed the cold cotton surface next to her. The lack of warmth spread the chill into her. Even after six months of waking up alone, Feyre didn't think she could ever get used to this. 

She shrugged on her silk bath robes, absently tying a knot as she padded her way down the corridors of her house. The home system automatically came to life as it recognised her presence.

"Senator, what is your view of the recent uprising regarding the mandated draft? That this isn't Earth's war to fight?" A smooth, well rehearsed voice blared through the speakers.

"Shut it off," Feyre snapped as the tension in her chest build. 

She couldn't listen to another slimy politician's speech on the importance of the fight, why her husband had to travel tens of thousand miles away from her where she couldn't reach him. The reminder tightened the band and restricted her breathing. She scrambled to get a glass of water and downed it in one go, anything to relieve the iron grip around her lungs. 

She dropped the glass into the basin and whipped open the back door, stepping out to breathe in the crisp cool air of the devil hours. The stars winked at her from their place in the vast pitch black blanket. Somewhere out there was Rhys, fighting nameless enemies.  

Was this going to be her life? An endlessness of waiting and agonising? 

The stars blinked at her. 

Come, they said.

Join us, they beckoned. 

Because why not? Feyre looked back into the void. She was a lot of things but meekly and helplessly waiting for her husband to return from war was not one of them. She was Feyre Archeron and she was done with this. 

Having made up her mind, Feyre returned to the house. Its emptiness less jarring, and slowly but surely, the death hold around her chest loosened.

***

"Feyre Otieno nee Archeron," Major Devlon drawled, his eyes narrowing at her, "Your husband is Rhysand Otieno, first lieutenant of the Illyrian air force unit in the 49th battalion, yes?" 

"Yes," Feyre acknowledged, her brows furrowing into a frown at the implication of his opening question. She swallowed the emotion down, repeating, 'Yes sir."

The major hummed noncommittally as he scrolled through her application on the tablet, heaving an exaggerated sigh when he was done.

"Mrs Otieno, you are aware that there is an actual war happening outside the comforts of Earth?" He asked as he turned a steely disapproving gaze on her, "That the camps are just that, war camps. Not a couples mediating centre?" 

Her cheeks heated with indignation as she forced out a reply, "Of course, sir. I just thought-"

"You childishly thought you could apply to enter the 49th battalion and no one would guess your true intentions?" He interrupted sharply, drawing himself to his full height to stare down at her, to intimidate her.

Well, it's just too bad he picked the wrong person.

Feyre's anger flared within her, a beast trying to claw its way out, "Yes, I applied for my husband's battalion. Yes, of course I want to see him," She stands to level her gaze back at him, "But as my record clearly shows, I am the reigning champion shooter of Velaris in the cross gender category. I have value to this army beyond the simpering housewife you are clearly making me out to be." 

The edges of Devlon's mouth twisted into a mocking smile before he summoned the corporal seated outside his office, ordering him with a bored expression, "Bring Mrs Otieno to the simulation room and show her how the room works. Ten minutes of practice before the full hour sniping exercise."

He silenced the protests from his subordinate, killing the words before it had a chance to be born, "Now, get out. Both of you." 

The corporal dutifully led her out of the room, throwing the major a crisp salute before stepping out himself. Only speaking once they were walking down the corridor, surrounded by nothing but the clicking of combat boots against the metallic floor, "Are you really Rhy- first lieutenant Otieno's wife?" 

Feyre narrowed her eyes before nodding in affirmation. To her surprise, the younger man grinned as his demeanour shifted to a more friendly countenance. "Seems like there was some truth to the endless bragging of his beautiful wife then."

Despite herself, she felt her lips twitch upwards into a smile because wasn't that just classic Rhys?

The male dipped his head as he turned them into an open hall, overhead lights blinked on as they entered. The army personnel swiftly made his way to the control panel, his hands sliding smoothly across the surface. Almost immediately, the hall shifted before them. 

The ground transformed into a burning orange and a wild terrain of red rocks appeared. Behind them, a wall displayed a variety of rifles and blasters. Feyre found herself gravitating towards the wall, her hands hovering over the weaponry.

He gestured towards the wall, not looking away from the control panel, "Pick a long rifle you can easily familiarise yourself with."

They spent the next couple of minutes running through the simulation exercise. Conceptually, it was quite easy. It would replicate a battlefield and she was to cover the frontliners. Her performance would be assessed based on the number of frontliners who died on her watch. 

"Just be careful," the soldier advised as a parting gift before he left, his voice dropped to a low range as his eyes took on a strange glint,"The simulation plays dirty."  

Feyre frowned but nodded, still testing out the rifle in her hands after the room had been emptied. Darkness enveloped the room and signalled the start of the exercise. Almost immediately, Feyre followed her instincts and took off in a sprint, heading towards a large boulder with a higher and better vantage point. Below her, opaque holographic forms of soldiers proceeded forward. 

She quickly scanned their surroundings with the rifle scope for the scaly enemies. 

Nothing. 

Feyre swore under her breath as she swiped the scope back into the gun, opting to continue her survey with naked eyes, her sweeping gaze moved to the sky. 

The realisation struck her the instant she spotted it. It was an aerial attack. 

What the hell was a sniper supposed to do against that? Feyre thought angrily as the black dot increased in size with each second, revealing the aerodynamic form of the attack cruiser. She turned her attention back down to her assigned unsuspecting unit. Her mind raced as her fingers twitched anxiously. 

She flicked up her scope and observed the cruiser through it. Her jaw clicked audibly as a wild idea hit her. 

It would be near impossible, like throwing a needle into a cyclone. But what did she have to lose? Throwing caution to the wind, she rested her rifle on the boulder and angled it towards the sky. Her fingers deftly switched from phasor to a physical ammunition. 

A needle through a cyclone. 

She peered into the scope, taking a deep breath to slow the heart that was beating wildly in her chest. She clicked the trigger with her next exhale and watched it pierced through the air. 

One, two. Target reached. 

A smile crept up as her bullet unleashed a second explosion into the engines upon impact. It wouldn't be enough to bring down the cruiser but sure enough, spots dotted the sky as fighters sailed down in their parachutes. Feyre wasted no time in picking them off one by one. 

A sharp cry beneath alerted her to separate land-based strike forces on her team. The scaly warriors of Mars ruthlessly advancing on them. She quickly adjusted back her rifle settings. 

A bullet whistled past her. The shock of the pain from the shot grazing the side of her face caught her unaware. She raised a finger to lightly trace the wound and stared at the blood coating her fingers. The numb realisation incited a chill down her spine. The injuries are real. 

The grim knowledge settled deep within her as she retreated behind the boulder, her gun held flushed against her body. The true fight begins now.

***

The view from the window of the transport carrier was jaw droppingly spectacular. Earth glowed in the bright city lights, a streak of aurora centred over the tip of the Europe continent in a swirl of mesmerising green waves. A sight so beautiful it wiped one's mind clean. 

"Specialist Otieno," the nasally voice of Major Devlon pulled her back to reality, to the blooming ache in her muscles and sharp pain in her arm where another shot from the simulation grazed her. He handed her a tablet, "Your standard issue. All the documents that you need to memorise before the briefing tomorrow have been loaded within. Officer Otieno will pick you up from the hangar later." 

Feyre went still, her breath held in suspension at the commander's words, digesting them almost belatedly. Her head turned mechanically.

"Report for the orientation briefing at oh eight hundred tomorrow," Major Devlon gave a grimace that could almost pass off as a smile, "Welcome to the 49th battalion, Specialist."

Feyre gave him a sharp salute as she thanked him sincerely. She turned back to the view outside her window, a small smile creeping on. The stars twinkled at her knowingly. 

Her heart pounded excitedly as the doors to the carrier slid aside, giving way to the grey metal alloy surfaces of the camp. Her eyes located her husband instantly. 

Rhys's form was rigid, a tension held the body captive in a manner that Feyre had never seen before. The muscle in his jaw feathered as violet eyes landed on her. It vanished in an instant as his head snapped towards the Major, throwing up a sharp salute in greeting. The commander snorted and waved his hand in dismissal, striding out of the hangar without another word.

"Rhys," 

He cuts her off coldly, "Not here." 

She barely kept the flinch out of her face as she schooled her expression into neutrality. But Rhys knew her. He could still read her like a book even after six months apart. His voice was gentle when he ushered her into the winding hallway, "Your room is this way."

They entered the small room, the door closed with a click behind her. The room was simple, a slim cot was pushed into the inner right corner, the desk sat facing the wall on the left, next to the locker. 

"Why are you here, Feyre?" 

Feyre settled her bag on the desk before spinning around to face him. She whispered into his chest, "Because I couldn't take it anymore." 

They stood mere inches apart, confined by the narrow space between the sparse furniture. The close proximity revealed the effects of war on him, dark purple rings beneath his eyes and the gaunt angles of his cheekbones. Worst of all, a hauntedness that had taken residence deep within the recesses of violet eyes. 

"You would have been safe down there," he muttered, his hands tracing her features reverently. He frowned as he clocked in the graze on her cheek, "Faraway from the brutality of this place."

"Faraway from you," she added as her fists clenched, the tightness of her chest returning, "So far that it was like shouting into the void. I could yell and scream until my voice was gone and it wouldn't make a difference. It could never escape the void. I could never reach you." 

Rhys took her closed fists, gently prying them open. "This place, this war. It changes you. Stay long enough and you could become a monster just like it. I-" 

"Then we can become monsters together," she said passionately, her hands closing over his as she met his gaze, "I know there are rules. You fight your battles and I'll fight mine. But then we return from it and meet each other here." 

"Feyre" 

Her name slipped out of his lips like a prayer. His composure, his facade, crumbling into dust as he crashed his mouth down to hers. His lips were demanding, desperate for a taste after so long apart. Feyre returned it fiercely, sweeping a tongue against his bottom lip and thrusted it in. One arm closed around her waist to bring her closer, enveloping her in the familiar scent of rain, salt and citrus, while the other slipped behind her neck. 

Her legs weakened, knees buckling as the back hit the edge of the cot and sent them falling gracelessly towards it. Their lips remained fused together as she eagerly undid his pants and threw it aside, freeing his awakened cock.

Her pants and underwear were barely down her thighs when Rhys thrusted, sliding home in a single motion. Feyre gasped as her walls deliciously stretched around him, the discomfort quickly giving way to pleasure. 

"Move," she ordered.

Rhys chuckled above her, cutting off further words as he captured her lips once more and rolled his hips. They moved seamlessly, meeting each thrust perfectly. Rhys brought one hand down, circling her clit in time with his hips. The ache in her centre building with each stroke.

"I'm close," he whispered into her ear as he withdrew all the way to the tip, "Come with me, Feyre," He slammed back in, a practiced finger pressed roughly at her bundle of nerves. 

Her world shattered into a thousand stars, pulling him off the edge with her as she clenched and pulsed tightly around him. He pulled out, spilling himself on the cot. 

He pushed himself up to open the locker, taking out a packet of wet tissues. Without thinking, Feyre rolled on her side, wincing as her weight rested on her wounded arm. 

Rhys's face sharpened at the sound, assessing eyes swept over her form. "You're hurt," he said almost woefully. 

He buttoned his pants back up with impressive speed, exiting the room with a quick, "I'll be right back." 

Feyre sat up, slightly taken aback at the sudden absence. She reached for the packet of wet wipes and was just done cleaning herself up when Rhys returned, clutching a small first aid box in his hand. 

He wordlessly made his way back to the cot and laid the box open on it. "Show me, please." He pleaded. Feyre rolled up her sleeves, hissing as she peeled the fabric of her shirt off the wound, uncovering a deep gash.

He patched up her arm before moving on to her face, disinfecting the wound and applying a clear gel on it. The actions were so tender that her heart squeezed tightly. 

Rhys rested one hand on her uninjured cheek, stroking it gently, "No more shouting into the void. I'm right here." 

Her vision blurred as she wrapped her arms tightly around him, burying her face into his chest. The worry and tension from the past few months ebbed away. Feyre sighed in relief as she answered, "We are right here, together. Just as we should be." 

War might rage outside those doors, forcing them to do unspeakable deeds. But here, just the two of them, there would always be peace. 

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Active Authors Masterlist (10)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 /

***Active (on this blog) is defined as a blog/writer who has updated within the past year. Inactive (on this blog) is defined as a blog/writer that has not been updated at all in the past year+. On THG Writing Hiatus (on this blog) is a blog/writer who has updated within the past year but has not posted a fanfic in the fandom in the past year BUT they may return to writing in the future. Lists will be updated as needed based on activity. ***

Created: February 10th, 2024

Last Checked:-----

atleastmymomlikesme-ao3, ff.net, tumblr

Popular Fic: Respect the Grayest Pile (For the Departed Creature’s sake) Summary: Against his better judgment, Haymitch has accepted responsibility for both a revolution and two teenagers who will surely be the death of him. Probably sooner rather than later. Just his luck that the only way to save them both involves landing himself back in the arena. Catching Fire AU

ellizablue-ao3, ff.net, tumblr

Popular Fic: Where Soul Meets A Body Summary: "Sometimes I think they reaped you because they knew I would love you." Annie and Finnick's full story, starting with Annie's Reaping and ending after Mockingjay. Annie's POV. Canon.

LastLeaf :: ao3, ffnet, tumblr

Popular Fic: Beyond the Fence-Divorced with a failing business, Peeta Mellark doesn't think he can sink any lower. Until he finds himself attracted to his neighbor's 20 year-old niece.

Littlefroid-ao3, tumblr

Popular Fic: The old familiar sting Summary: Maureen Trevi won the 49th Annual Hunger Games, and has now been a victor for 11 years. Dealing with her own demons for a decade now, alongside her victor duties. Now that the 60th Hunger Games is here and she is forced to be mentor for this year's game. However for the first time she actually get a tribute that think he has a chance to survive the games. Trying to write a backstory to the two Morphlings in Catching Fire because I needed to know more about them when I reread the series.

Meadowlark27 :: ao3, tumblr

Popular fic: The Meek Shall Inherit the Eldest Everdeen-The boys all wanted Katniss at the slag heap. But Peeta Mellark just wanted Katniss.

morgswrites/booklover2019-ao3, wattpad

Popular Fic: Blooming in the Spring Summary: I am empty and want nothing more than to drown it all out--all of the fear, the guilt. The guilt. There is so much of it, all the time. Guilt for those I've killed. For those who I could not save. They haunt me every second of every day, always there, always in the back of my mind clawing their way forward. Today, it is Finnick. Yesterday, Cinna. The day before that, Castor. Prim. Always Prim. ~ In the months following the fall of the Panem's Capitol, Katniss Everdeen is continuing to fight a battle-this time against herself. After surviving two Hunger Games and leading a revolution, losing countless loved ones along the way, Katniss is forced to learn how to live on with her trauma and how to navigate a new life with the boy that saved her life.

Pookieh :: ao3, ffnet, tumblr

Popular Fic: First Impressions-Her whole life, Katniss Everdeen had been raised to believe her only goal in life was to find a suitable husband and marry. Upon meeting the standoffish Peeta Mellark, she could not be more put off by the notion of marriage. However, unbeknownst to her, there is a reason behind Peeta's demeanor, if only she chose to look beyond her biased first impression. Hunger Games/Pride & Prejudice cross-over.

rarepairheathen :: ao3, tumblr

Popular Fic: Positive-In AU Panem after Katniss winner of the 74th reality TV show “The Hunger Games” she finds herself in a world of trouble.

sakurakyouko-ao3, tumblr, main blog

Popular Fic: As Long As I'm Burning Summary: Johanna Mason-centric, canon-compliant fic, spanning from the 71st Hunger Games all the way through to the end of Mockingjay. Mostly gen; the romance is a feature, but not the central focus

winryofresembool :: ao3, tumblr

Popular Fic: Cheese Buns and Garlic Cakes-Peeta finally gets a chance to talk with his childhood crush when she shows up at his door to sell some ingredients for his pastries.

[scarletwitchie2]

FlashbackFriday - FashionFriday

1. 2001 - premiere of Lara Croft: Tomb Raider in Los Angeles.

2. 2002 - Golden Globes in Beverly Hills

3. 2003 The 49th Orange British Academy Film Awards in London.

4. 2003 - premiere of Beyond Borders in Madrid.

[diamondeyes-deluxe]

So, I was quite stupid in high school.

That's not true. A lot of the people I know say I'm really smart. I have certain, specific topics that I am really, really good at. I got like 95%-100%s on every test I *actually* studied for.

But I graduated high school with a 1.7 GPA.

I mean at least I graduated?

I was... going through a lot in high school. (I truly don't think I'll even feel sad whenever my dad does die.) It's not just that I was sad. We were poor, and i wasn't getting enough food. I was also disillusioned because he kept telling me school didn't matter and was fascist or whatever, and scared of the world he was leading me to believe laid beyond childhood, full of satanic cannibals and pedophiles. I also just could not pay attention. I dont know why. It never clicked with me that I should. Not that I was *supposed to*, I understood that, I just never saw a reason *why I should*. It didn't interest me.

I guess when I list shit out like that, it makes me feel better that I am as functioning now as I am.

Anyway. I spent all of my classes sleeping (and spent every night binging TV until 4am), socializing, or making up little stories in my head and doodling. I learned very little.

Now I'm 25, and... I want to see what I missed! In my adulthood (and newfound stability), I want to learn! I don't really have an objective, like, a college or career path, I just Want. To. Know!!! For myself! For fun?

So I am!

I didn't know where to start... probably the 4 core subjects is my best bet? There's nothing I want to specialize in..I. yet! Maybe something will grab my interest!

I've got some textbooks. I've got The Penguin History of The World, Openstax's ap Biology (I probably retained enough to start with ap at 26, haha...), The Art of Problem Solving's Algebra 1, and... no English (I was always pretty good with English)... but I've got some open source Spanish 1 text book, which I've already gotten a decent way through! (¡Puedo comer vidrio, no me hace daño!

Then I'll branch out to more specific parts of history, like certain times or countries, Geometry, Algebra 2, eventually Calculus (which I don't think I ever even took? The state I went to HS in is 49th in Education....), and introductory chemistry and physics.

And then I'll teach myself college level things!

I'll also probably delve into things like psychology, philosophy, sociology... I love, y'know, *people*.

Of course, this is very embarrassing. Two days ago, my boyfriend taught me how to multiply and divide fractions by canceling. I'm 25. That's, like, mortifying to admit.

But at least I'm doin' something about it instead of never admitting it and then continuing to not know forever!

Grifjejf. I don't want to count my chickens before they hatch but. I'm really looking forward to this journey tbh. Learning is fun to me now! I want knowledge. Yay.

[kujiraoka]

『Kay』(2020)

This is a story between Kay and her father, Taichi. Taichi, grown up at a ready-built cheese-box house with perfect family, started to be in business world with Rock. He had tried to live hard tossed by the ups and downs waves of the business, and passed away with exhausted heart and body. After 49th day ceremony of his death, Kay was given an old style guitar by her mother, Takako, as Taichi’s keepsake. Kay, carrying it on her shoulder, starts thinking of who he was over beyond time. What Taichi wanted to leave to Kay? Now, we are facing issues that both parents and children hurt each other, physically and spiritually, by seeking “happy family” as ideal. (23 min./ HDTV/ 5.1 Ch.)

『Kay』&『終点は海』- HP

[rottenpumpkin13]

Someone tell Sephiroth it's his mom's birthday!

It being Lucrecia's birthday makes everything more poignant for Sephiroth even if he's unaware of it. He doesn’t know his mother beyond her face; he’s unaware of her interests, likes, and dislikes, or how she looked when she was angry. He doesn’t know how she cradled her face when she was deep in thought, or how her smile was never toothy. He goes about his day on her birthday, waking up and drinking his coffee, oblivious to the fact that he's drinking it exactly the way she liked it, and that if she were alive, she would be brewing it for him while chastising him about inconsequential things like how much sleep he was getting or warning him about catching a cold.

He heads to his office, thinking about the mission he's scheduled to leave for later that day. He walks past a painting in the hallway depicting yellow carnations, not knowing they were her favorite flowers and that he would be getting her a bouquet of them on her birthday if she were here. He passes several yellow things—a folder in someone's hand, the color of someone's shoes, the details on a coffee cup—not knowing that yellow was her favorite color. He never got to have the experience of excitedly filling one of those handmade cards kids make at school, proudly declaring, "That's my mom's favorite color!"

He runs into Genesis on the 49th level and stops to chat. Genesis offers him a slice of his orange, and Sephiroth doesn't know that Lucrecia disliked oranges because they made her throat burn, or that the song playing overhead is the one that was on the radio when she sat on her bedroom floor doing homework, the day she decided to pursue science as a career.

He walks to his office and will never know that the pattern on the hallway carpet resembles the baby blanket Lucrecia selected for him, but never got to use before her life took a different turn.

Sephiroth sits at his desk and takes a moment to breathe. He doesn’t understand why his heart aches a little more that day, or why thoughts of her spill into his mind despite his efforts to manage them. Today he chooses to indulge just a little and smiles at the thought of having her near, holding her close. He doesn’t even know that to Lucrecia, that smile of his would have been the greatest birthday gift he could give her.

[padderley14]

In My Opinion of Ted Dekker

In My Opinion,Ted Dekker is one of the best Christian fiction authors today.

In my opinion, Ted Dekker is one of the best Christian fiction authors today. His books always keep me riveted. I have never read a book by Ted Dekker that I didn’t like. More than that, though, he always weaves some sort of biblical truth woven into his stories. This is especially true of his series- Beyond the Circle. The first book is The 49th Mystic came out in May 2018 and the second book,…

[dfroza]

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures

for the 9th of november 2024 with a paired chapter from each Testament (the First & the New Covenant) of the Bible

[The Book of Luke, Chapter 4 • The Book of 1st Samuel, Chapter 16]

along with Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms with Proverbs 9 and Psalm 9 coinciding with the day of the month, accompanied by Psalm 49 for the 49th day of Astronomical Autumn, and Psalm 14 for day 314 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 3rd revolution this year)

A post by John Parsons:

Heeding the Call...

I had mentioned that "lekh-lekha" (לך־לך) can be understood as a command to "come to yourself," that is, to turn and reconnect to your spiritual essence, though it can also be understood as a command to "go out of yourself," that is, to escape from the bondage of your carnal ego... This corresponds to teaching in the New Testament where we are commanded to both "put on" our new spiritual identity as God’s beloved, and to “put off" the old self by being revived in our minds (Eph. 4:22-24). Both “movements” are the heart are necessary: we must turn to the Lord and receive his blessing (inward), and we must turn away from what has previously defined us (outward). We die to ourselves and come back to life; we cross out the old and walk into the new...

The Jewish philosopher Emanuel Levinas said that the reason it is hard to "go out of yourself" has to do with an overwhelming sense of inertia that collapses into passivity of the soul. We get “comfortably numb” and resist waking up. When the heart miraculously becomes "elected," however, as when Abraham heard and believed God's promise, it comes alive before the Divine Presence, and by extension, it is empowered to go out of itself in blessing others. The process of sanctification puts away the old self that is lost within itself by consciously turning to spiritual reality and truth.

There has to be a starting point, however, a "conversion" of the heart that marks the transition from old to new. Abraham is our model. He did not simply make a journey away from home that eventually circled back to what he knew before - the security and history that had defined him. No, his break from his former life was radical and changed his direction forever. It was a "crossing over" into newness of life. Beyond the dimension of the physical world, Abraham's journey was one of inner transformation, and therefore it was a journey into the unknown. He was made a "stranger" and a sojourner in this world. Unlike the Aristotelian view that sees an "end" or telos (purpose) embedded within natural processes, God revealed to Abraham the glory of the transcendental world, incalculable in its beauty, depth, goodness, and holiness. Being "elected" or "chosen" by God is to bear witness of the sanctity of life by "forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead," striving to attain the high calling of God in the Messiah.

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Psalm 4:3 reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm4-3-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm4-3-lesson.pdf

11.8.24 • Facebook

from Today’s email by Israel365

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

[noisycowboyglitter]

The Legacy of Vice President Kamala Harris

Kamala Harris made history in 2021 when she was sworn in as the 49th Vice President of the United States, becoming the first woman, first Black person, and first person of South Asian descent to hold this office. Her election alongside President Joe Biden marked a significant milestone in American politics and representation.

Buy now:19.95$

As Vice President, Harris has taken on several key responsibilities within the Biden administration. She has been tasked with addressing complex issues such as immigration reform, voting rights, and broadband access. Her role often involves diplomatic missions, representing the United States in meetings with foreign leaders and at international forums.

Harris brings to the office a diverse background in law and politics. Prior to her vice presidency, she served as a U.S. Senator from California, the state's Attorney General, and the District Attorney of San Francisco. This experience informs her approach to policy and governance in her current role.

In her capacity as Vice President, Harris also serves as President of the Senate, casting tie-breaking votes when necessary. She has used this position to advance key legislation aligned with the administration's agenda.

Buy now

Throughout her tenure, Harris has emphasized themes of unity, equality, and the importance of American democracy. She frequently speaks about breaking barriers and encourages young people, especially girls and people of color, to aspire to leadership roles.

As Vice President, Harris continues to navigate the complexities of national and international politics while carrying the hopes and expectations of those who see her role as a step toward a more inclusive America.

Buy now

LGBT Gay Pride Rainbow is a powerful symbol of diversity, inclusion, and celebration within the LGBTQ+ community. The rainbow flag, created by artist Gilbert Baker in 1978, has become an internationally recognized emblem of gay pride and LGBTQ+ rights.

The flag's six vibrant colors - red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet - represent different aspects of the LGBTQ+ experience: life, healing, sunlight, nature, harmony, and spirit. This colorful symbol is prominently displayed during Pride events, parades, and celebrations worldwide.

Buy now

Gay Pride events, often held in June to commemorate the 1969 Stonewall riots, are joyful gatherings that celebrate LGBTQ+ identity, promote visibility, and advocate for equal rights. These events feature rainbow-adorned participants, floats, and performances, creating a festive and inclusive atmosphere.

The rainbow symbol extends beyond flags to various forms of expression, including clothing, accessories, art, and even corporate logos during Pride month. It serves as a beacon of hope and solidarity for LGBTQ+ individuals and allies alike, promoting a message of love, acceptance, and the right to live authentically.

[dtba]

🌟 Get Coachella-Ready with Me: Insider Tips and Must-Have Products! 🌈

Apr 12, 2024

Follow me on Instagram | TikTok | YouTube

Coachella season is here, and it’s time to slay all day, every day! But with so much going on, from pre-festival events to after-parties, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. That’s why I’ve got you covered with my ultimate Coachella glam guide, featuring long-lasting looks from some of my favorite NYC spots!

First up, let's talk lashes. I hit up the Wink Bar for a set that's pure magic! These lashes are lightweight and natural, giving me that effortlessly chic vibe. Now I can wake up and slay without even trying – talk about #lashgoals!

Next stop: nails. I headed to thelaqlab, a luxury nail salon near Barclays Center, and let me tell you, they nailed it! 💅 With a mermaid theme in mind, I got a dazzling nail set that's straight out of a fairytale. It's like having a piece of Coachella magic right at my fingertips!

And finally, let's talk lips. My go-to? The new Candy Glaze Lip Gloss Stick from YSL. 🍭 My favroite shade is color number 6. This baby has quickly become my signature look, giving me the perfect pop of color and shine for Coachella vibes all day long. Trust me, you'll want to snag one ASAP!

So there you have it, babes – my secret weapons for Coachella glam that lasts from sunrise to sunset (and beyond)! 💖✨ With these must-have products in your arsenal, you'll be turning heads and stealing the show at Coachella – no filter needed!

Wink Bar

Radiant Renewal: Beauty Blooms

Instagram: @wink.bar

Website: www.winkbarnyc.com

Visit to Wink Bar for their Signature Lash Extension Experience, and leave with Wink Bar's Eyelash Shampoo. Post your own lash wash with your beauty routine and Wink will repost your reel to go with our Radiant Renewal Beauty Blooms campaign.  Don't forget to tag @wink.bar  #SpringBeauty #WinkBar #RefreshRenew

Visit www.winkbarnyc.com or any of their 3 NYC locations for gift cards and Wink Bar’s Eyelash  Shampoo and Wink Bar’s Eyelash Adhesive products. 

Wink Bar Locations:

142 East 49th Street | 30 East 13th Street | 36-34 Union Street, Flushing 

thelaqlab

IG: @thelaqlab

A luxury nail salon near Barclays Center, and let me tell you, they nailed it! 💅 With a mermaid theme in mind, I got a dazzling nail set that's straight out of a fairytale. It's like having a piece of Coachella magic right at my fingertips!

Located at 41 5th Ave. BK, NY 11217

Candy Glaze Lip Gloss Stick

$39

This supercharged formula infuses hyaluronic acid, vitamin E and cold-pressed mango oils into a high-shine gloss that locks in moisture for 12 hours. The formula is also infused with Moroccan pomegranate extract sourced from the YSL Beauty Ourika Community Gardens and mango oil. Candy Glaze smoothly melts onto lips for indulgent, comfortable wear. The signature Yves Saint Laurent packaging is a couture object of desire and ensures freshness with each click for a deliciously sweet and glossy shine.

LOVESHINE Lip Oil Stick

$45

The iconic oil infused lipstick from YSL Beauty now with modern neutrals, a new formula and elevated pack: introducing YSL LOVESHINE Lip Oil Stick, now enhanced with rich fig pulp helping lips look plumped and our signature 6 oils delivering up to 24-hour hydration and protection. This lipstick oil hybrid delivers creamy wet shine with a silky-smooth feel in 20 buildable shades. Treat your lips to the color of a lipstick with the slip of an oil.  

Follow me on Instagram | TikTok | YouTube

[blogger360ncislarules]

A real, close family -- on screen and off! Many members of the cast and crew of Young Sheldon came together last week to watch the emotional series finale together at co-star Annie Potts' home.

The 71-year-old actress -- who stars as Meemaw, the maternal grandmother of the Cooper family -- took to Instagram on Wednesday to share a video of the special night.

"The #YoungSheldon family gathered at Meemaw's to watch the finale," Potts captioned the sweet post. "Great job, EVERYONE, and THANK YOU to all of you who tuned in."

Notably absent from the festivities was Montana Jordan -- who plays Georgie Cooper, and will be starring in the forthcoming spin-off series, Georgie and Mandy's First Marriage.

On Tuesday, Jordan announced that he and girlfriend Jenna Weeks welcomed their first child together -- a daughter named Emma Rae Jordan.

Meanwhile, Iain Armitage, who starred as the titular Sheldon Cooper, was seemingly unable to attend, but shared his love in the comments under Potts' post.

Meanwhile, Revord, 16, remarked on how special the experience was of watching the series finale with her TV family, commenting, "I didn't want that night to end. I love being with all of you. ❤️"

On Tuesday, ET spoke with Revord on the red carpet at the Alliance for Women in Media Foundation's 49th annual Gracie Awards in Beverly Hills, where she reflected on spending some time with her co-stars after production wrapped on the finale.

"We were wrapping, a lot of guest stars and... we pulled the couch off of set. It was the green couch that's in the living room -- we pulled it off the set and I actually posted a photo of all of us sitting on it," Revord recalled.

"We were just hanging out and we were just piled on the couch and it was so much fun," she shared. "For like three hours, we were just hanging out and laughing, and it was great."

The series finale aired last week, and while Young Sheldon has come to an end, CBS announced that a spinoff series, Georgie and Mandy's First Marriage, is set to premiere in the fall.

The series stars Jordan and Emily Osment, who will reprise her role as Georgie's wife, Mandy McAllister.

"I'm so happy for Montana and Emily! They deserve it, above and beyond," Revord marveled to ET. "They're so talented and they're some of my favorite people ever, and I'm so excited to see where the show goes."

[ricmlm]

Essayist, fiction writer and university professor, Nuno Júdice was one of the main authors in a time of transition in Portuguese poetry, from the 1960s to the 80s and beyond.

The President of the Republic has already mourned this death. Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa refers to the poetic work and the work of decades in different institutions that were a major contribution to the uniqueness, cosmopolitanism and projection of Portuguese literature.

Nuno Júdice was born in Mexilhoeira Grande, in Portimão, in the district of Faro, in 1949.

He was an associate professor at Universidade Nova de Lisboa, an institution where he received his doctorate in 1989 with the thesis "The space of the tale in the medieval text".

Poet, essayist and fiction writer, Nuno Júdice was, until 2015, a professor at the Faculty of Social and Human Sciences at Universidade Nova de Lisboa.

Júdice served as director of the literary magazine Tabacaria (1996-2009) and was commissioner for the Literature area of the Portuguese representation at the 49th Frankfurt Book Fair.

He served as cultural advisor at the Portuguese Embassy in Paris (1997-2004) and director of the Camões Institute in the French capital.

He organized the European Poetry Week, within the scope of Lisbon'94 - European Capital of Culture, and directed the Revista Colóquio-Letras, from the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation.

Literally, he made his debut in 1972 with the poetry book "A Noção de Poema".

Throughout his literary career, Nuno Júdice was awarded several prizes, including the Queen Sofia Prize for Ibero-American Poetry, in 2013, the Pen Clube Prize, the D. Dinis Prize from Casa de Mateus.

He received the Grand Prize for Poetry from the Portuguese Writers Association, for "Meditação sobre Ruínas", a finalist for the European Literature Prize.

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