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mccfilm · 1 year ago

Text

Dear USA Today:

Here is “The Patriot”:

Based on the American Revolution, Roland Emmerich’s “The Patriot” is a 2000 feature film starring Mel Gibson in the role of Benjamin Martin, a fictitious American Revolutionary peasant whose peasantry went from family to national status. Set during the 1776 Revolutionary War, “The Patriot” is an enthralling work of art presenting the best adaptation and dramatization of a biopic having gone adaptable as opposed to actual; the South Carolina heritage in its actuality is re-enacted by the best costume designs of the so called “redcoat” and “boot camps��. The re-enactment of the “redcoat” and “boot camps” is widely remarked for its recollection of a supposedly British colonial rule of the past. The supposedly British colonial rule of the past is widely border regional to all of South Carolina and Maine stretching across one another. The border regions between all of South Carolina and Maine have lead directly to the groundbreaking results in all of the thirteen colonies. Each groundbreaking result are of a certain resultant in the sought out independent nation. The resultants are of a widely remembered Declaration of Independence in the signing of an independent nation situated in the biopic having gone adaptable as opposed to actual. Jason Isaacs plays the role of the antagonist Colonel Tavington, whose redcoat is competed against that of the boot camp of Benjamin Martin. Heath Ledger plays the role of Gabriel Martin, the eldest of the younger relations to Benjamin Martin.

The story is set in Charleston, South Carolina, USA. Widely remarked as the ORIGINAL DESTINATION OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION, the ORIGINAL DESTINATION OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION in its EARLY DAYS has served as a PLANTATION. Most notable of NATURAL SELECTIONS has always been WHEAT. The WHEAT DISTRIBUTION under MODERN STANDARDS has often resolved to MACHINERY. Each MODERN MACHINERY having sought NEWER GRINDING has seen to each WHEAT EXPORT AS WELL. The so called BUTTERFLY EFFECT is most notably SITUATED IN CHARLESTON. The more the WINGS of the BUTTERFLY, the more the TRANSITIONAL TUMULTUOUSNESS. The OPENING CREDITS to the 2000 feature film thoroughly present WHEAT FIELDS in an INTERSPERSE AND INTERTWINE with each other. That by ITSELF is typical SOUTH CAROLINA HERITAGE.

The voiceover of Benjamin Martin spoken by Mel Gibson is a remnant of the past that speaks to the peasant, whose past life has turned to dreams of an American Way, and the American Way is uniquely embedded within the peasant whose recollection to early settlement has turned out to be that of South Carolina heritage. The remnant of the past may to the AMERICAN DREAM, but, REALISTICALLY SPEAKING, the EDUCATION METHODS are widely BRITISH OPPOSITIONAL. Each BRITISH OPPOSITIONAL EDUCATION METHOD is its OWN UNIQUE VOICE to be seeking, in which AMERICAN TRADITION IS ALL METHODICAL WHEREAS AMERICAN INNOVATION IS ALL NEW OPPORTUNITIES. The more the AMERICAN TRADITION, the more the AMERICAN WAY. The more the AMERICAN INNOVATION, the more the AMERICAN DREAM. While it is true INVENTION is avast, INVENTIVE qualities are an EXTRACT of each FUTURE DIPLOMACY. In order to shape up AMERICAN INVENTION, EVERY OTHER AMERICAN WAY AND DREAM have to STAY TRUE to their GENERATIONAL GAP. The more the AMERICAN WAY AND DREAM on their OWN, the more the AMERICAN TRADITION AND INNOVATION. The more EVERY OTHER AMERICAN WAY AND DREAM, the more AMERICAN INVENTION.

Due to repeated scorning to the name of King George, loyalists have been returned to their native England to retrieve each document once consigned by George Washington. Ever since the days of NO TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION, the frequently extracted TEXTBOOK KNOWLEDGE demands GREATER ACCESS TO THE CONSIGNMENTS OF GEORGE WASHINGTON. Each STATE AFFAIR amongst the THIRTEEN COLONIES have had to STAY SUBDIVIDED to determine each REGIONAL AND PROVINCIAL TAXATION. To determine each REGIONAL AND PROVINCIAL TAXATION, the FIRST COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF has come to BREAK THE GROUND AND SET THE STANDARD. Each REGIONAL AND PROVINCIAL TAXATION at the SURRENDER of the NATION’S CAPITAL in all of MODERN STANDARDS is almost the same as RENEWED CONSIGNMENTS ON AND AFTER THE DAYS OF WASHINGTON. RENEWED CONSIGNMENTS ON AND AFTER THE DAYS OF WASHINGTON have all turned to REVIVAL TO ALL TAXABLE WITH REPRESENTABLE. The ROUTINE is that of GREATER ACCESS OF AND BEYOND ITS TIME; must be 18+ to see into the ROUTINE. The TAXABLE WITH REPRESENTABLE begun back during the days of the DELAWARE STATEHOOD AND THE STATEHOODS TO COME. In order to BYPASS each TAXABLE WITH REPRESENTABLE, each BYPASS has to get APPROVAL from the ELECTORAL COLLEGE.

The transition into the 1776 Revolutionary War begins with a simple conversation between Benjamin Martin and Gabriel, his eldest younger relation: a close friend of Gabriel, Peter Cupping, has enlisted himself in the continental army. The UNSEEN CHARACTER serves as a METAPHOR for the closest COMPANY AND COMPANIONSHIP AND RELATIONSHIP BUILDING. The METAPHOR often leads to COMPANION SEPARATION that is NOT taken as a THREAT in comparison to the FAMILY SEPARATION. Frequent COMPANION SEPARATION are an EXTRACT of the 1776 Revolutionary War AFTERMATH. Each 1776 Revolutionary War AFTERMATH have often lead directly to each sought out INDEPENDENT POLITICAL POSITIONING. The INDEPENDENT DEMOCRAT seeks GREATER WESTERN REGIONS. The INDEPENDENT REPUBLICAN holds true to EASTERN REGIONS. EITHER WAY, whichever PORTION is of LARGER POPULATION is determined by UNITARY RULE. The ORIGINS of the UNITARY DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC is already FORMULAIC: EITHER UNIFY EACH INDEPENDENT DEMOCRAT AND INDEPENDENT REPUBLICAN, OR SEEK OUT THE GREATER PROPORTIONAL REGIONS.

Gabriel has prenotified his father for a number of times as to his wishes to not indulge in the comfort of indoor coziness but seek out the duty over himself. Often times, the choice phrase “servitude above the self” is taken as a DUTY OF ITS OWN. The sought out UNITARY DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC AND PREDECEASING INDEPENDENT MAJORITY are typically MINORITY SYNCHRONY. The ORIGINS OF MINORITY SYNCHRONY had all begun with INDEPENDENT MAJORITY. EITHER INDEPENDENT DEMOCRACY AND UNITED DEMOCRACY OR INDEPENDENT REPUBLICANISM AND UNITED REPUBLICANISM. It was because of that that ALEXANDER HAMILTON OBJECTED TO THE OBSTINANCE and DEMANDED UNITY SUBDIVIDENDS, thus leading to LIBERTARIANISM. As FAIR as it is to engage within LIBERTARIANISM, INDEPENDENT DEMOCRACY AND UNITED DEMOCRACY OR INDEPENDENT REPUBLICANISM AND UNITED REPUBLICANISM are indeed OBSTINANT NOT IN TERMS OF BEHAVIOR BUT IN TERMS OF POSITIONING. Each MINORITY SYNCHRONY AND MAJORITY INDEPENDENCE are bound to STAY PARTIALLY SYNCHED. The more each PARTIAL SYNCHRONY, the more the MINORITY SYNCHRONY AND MAJORITY INDEPENDENCE; stay true to COMPLETE DESYNCHRONIZATION, LIBERTARIANISM may begin to apply.

One fine evening, Gabriel makes his way back home from a lengthy journey of military training; the return home has turned out to be an UNEXPECTED turn to the life of his FATHER. TS2: (Disfigured) TS3: (Disfigured) TS4: (Disfigured) TS5: (Disfigured) TS6: (Disfigured) TS7: (Disfigured) TS8: (Disfigured) TS9: (Disfigured)*

The preliminary to the American Revolution could be seen as widely narrative; in the case of Benjamin Martin, the narrative is centered around his family separation. It due to family separation of or related to American Revolution preliminary that each U.S. citizen have their own story to tell. The more the reflections, the more the distancing from each behavioral change. The more the distancing from each behavioral change, the more the counter-reflections of the U.S. heritage. Each counter-reflection to the U.S. heritage is deeply embedded within the THIRTEEN-YEAR THIRTEEN COLONY SEPARATION OF TERRITORY AND FRENCH AND INDIAN TERRITORIES. The FRENCH AND INDIAN TERRITORIES in their ORIGINAL AND ABORIGINAL destinations are widely RESPECTABLE under MODERN standards. The ORIGINAL AND ABORIGINAL FRENCH AND INDIAN TERRITORIES are supposedly TRIBAL ORIGINS to the U.S. REGIONS who are well preserved AND deserved to GREATER POPULATION. To spurn to GREATER POPULATION, PRESERVATIVES have to apply. Most notable of the ABORIGINAL is that of the CHEROKEE.

Captain Wilkins, played by Adam Baldwin, has come to report to Colonel Tavington of a number of missing militia; the spread of some ghostly figure has all turned to wildfire whose appearances are that of a peasant. The Captain himself is meekly portrayed by Adam Baldwin whose portrayal has proven to have garnered negative reviews when compared to the overall rating. When compared to the overall rating, the Captain carries the LEAST APPEARANCES, whose dramatic efforts are NOT as well executed as the OVERALL RATING. The execution of dramatic effects has turned to mostly MONOLOGUE and NOT as much VOLUME. The Captain is known for his BRIDGING FACTOR between all of COUNTRYSIDE AND CITY SIDE. In light of his BRIDGING FACTOR, the Captain serves as TRANSITIONAL between each LANDSCAPE AND HORIZON. The TRANSITION between each LANDSCAPE AND HORIZON is widely ILLUSTRIOUS to the extent of COLONEL TAVINGTON SITUATED on the TWO FAR SIDES OF THE CAMERA. The more the TRANSITION between each LANDSCAPE AND HORIZON, the more the CAPTAIN. The more the TWO FAR SIDES OF THE CAMERA, the more the COLONEL.

Much of the transitional sceneries between Benjamin and Gabriel have meandered across Colonel Tavington; the intimacy between father and son has come to stir up debate as to whether women should go to war or the eldest of younger relations in modern standards; the latter clearly wins through. The cinematography of the background to the American Revolution thoroughly presents INTIMACY between MARTIN AND GABRIEL. The INTIMACY they have come to associate themselves with are of the finest OIL PASTEL BROUGHT ALIVE. Each CHARACTER that seeks IDENTITY DEVELOPMENT need to IDENTIFY their IMAGE in the middle of a REVOLUTIONARY WAR. The sought out EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION is far from arrival, and the WASHINGTON PRESIDENCY is also far from arrival. The supposedly POTOMAC RIVER HERITAGE that lead directly to the finding of the FIRST STATE OF DELAWARE is where the FIRST STATEHOOD had all BEGUN. The STRETCH has had to venture between all of NEW ENGLAND DOWN TO THE CONFEDERACY. Much of the UNDERTAKING is that of TRIBAL SETTLEMENT. Each TRIBAL SETTLEMENT seeks its OWN LATER SETTLEMENTS in each INCREASING POPULATION.

Charlotte, the in-law of Martin, is a pure conservative and is unhesitant to stay true to her housekeeping. The CONSERVATIVE FEMINIST thoroughly shows through her CONFINEMENT: ALWAYS COMMITTED, NEVER LETTING GO. The CONSERVATIVE FEMINIST sees to her ROUTINES MORE THAN EXCITEMENT. The FAMILY WOMAN is frequently seen attending to her relations MORE THAN THE FAMILY MAN. Martin has seen to his OUSTING almost all of the time to the brink of INDOOR ACTIVITIES; each MODERN STANDARD extracted from the CINEMATOGRAPHY is of an INDOOR AND OUTDOOR ACTIVITY GENDER EXCHANGE. Each INDOOR AND OUTDOOR ACTIVITY GENDER EXCHANGE under each MODERN STANDARD are determinant of each ELDEST YOUNGER RELATION to each FAMILY HERITAGE. Whichever MARRIED OPPOSITE SEX has seen to GREATER SHELTER PROVIDES THE SHELTER. Charlotte is mostly close to Gabriel; her CONSERVATISM has held true to DISTANCING from him. During times of LIBERAL FEMINISM, she would always see to GABRIEL’S WELFARE.

Gabriel returns home from the recent Civil War. The HUMID SUMMERS full of MOIST have all turned to UNBEARABLE SWEAT GLANDS, especially during times of SOUTHEASTERN REGIONAL TRANSITION. Each SOUTHEASTERN REGIONAL TRANSITION carry their own HUMID SUMMERS stretching across each BORDERLINE. The more the BORDERLINE SOUTHEASTERN REGIONS, the more the MID-ATLANTIC HERITAGE. The more the MID-ATLANTIC HERITAGE, the more the SOUTHEASTERN REGIONS are bound to MOISTURIZE more so often. The more the SOUTHWESTERN EUROPE, the more the DRY SUMMERS. The HUMID SUMMERS across each SOUTHEASTERN REGION and DRY SUMMERS across SOUTHWESTERN EUROPE are widely identifiable CLIMATE DIFFERENCES. As UNFORTUNATE as it is to exhibit CLIMATE DIFFERENCES between each SOUTHEASTERN REGION and SOUTHWESTERN EUROPE, they are the MOST FREQUENT DESTINATIONS FOR CLIMATE CHANGE ACTIVISM AND ADVOCACY. The more the MOST FREQUENT DESTINATIONS FOR CLIMATE CHANGE ACTIVISM AND ADVOCACY, the more the SOUTHEASTERN U.S. AND SOUTHWESTERN EUROPE.

Charlotte, the in-law of Martin, intakes the younger relations to Gabriel and provides them the meals they need; most notable of the natural selections is bison. The WILD CALF of distant relativity to the CATTLE is typical POST-REVOLUTIONARY SELECTION OF AND BEYOND ITS TIME. Each WILD CALF has got THICKER TEXTURES than the DOMESTIC COUNTERPART. The NATURAL FLAVORS of the WILD CALF are widely STRINGY NOT IN TERMS OF EXPIRATION BUT IN TERMS OF PRESERVATION. What may sound like CONDESCENDENCE from FIRST IMPRESSION is all PRESERVATIVES. The DAILY PRESERVATION AND PRESERVATIVES have to lead to GRINDING each BONE MARROW and LOOSEN OVER THE PROTEIN. This kind of ROUTINE could be seen as some SETUP FOR VEGETARIANISM OR VEGANISM amongst MODERN FLAVORS. It is EXACTLY the BISON that has proven to be the EARLIEST DISTINCTION TO AMERICAN AGRICULTURE that has had to seek PRESERVATION AND PRESERVATIVES in order to TAKE SHAPE more so often. Most notable VARIANT to the BISON is that of the RANGOON.

Martin is sailing towards British cargo with Gabriel disguised as their own pretense redcoats. The TEA FLAVORS encased within the cargo are EXPORTED directly from ENGLAND ever since the days of the BOSTON TEA PARTY. Ever since the days of the BOSTON TEA PARTY, the most QUALITY TEA EXPORTS typically begin with BOSTON, MA, USA as the U.S. REGIONAL IMPORT DESTINATION. To seek GREATER EXPOSURE to each FLAVOR, the DELICATE TEXTURES have to be FACING UP IN EACH PACKAGE, NOT FACING DOWN. The extracts of each flavor are namely GRASSROOTS. To abide by each GRASSROOT, each IMPORT belongs to ALL U.S. REGIONS, each EXPORT belongs to ALL HEMISPHERICAL REGIONS. The more the IMPORTS, the more the U.S. REGIONS. The more the EXPORTS, the more the HEMISPHERICAL REGIONS. Each PROGRESSIVIST DISTRIBUTION has to begin with BOSTON, MA, USA.

Nathan, one of the younger relations to Martin, is profoundly exposed to the invading redcoats and is unfortunately glared by Colonel Tavington. TS2: (Disfigured) TS3: (Disfigured) TS4: (Disfigured) TS5: (Disfigured) TS6: (Disfigured) TS7: (Disfigured) TS8: (Disfigured) TS9: (Disfigured)*

Gabriel has come to reunite with a longtime early childhood girlfriend, Anne, whom they have come to propose marriage; Martin has come to consent both under his guardian and on behalf of his deceased wife. The marital consignments under traditional values are all up and running, and refusal to stay secular is not an option. Refusal to stay secular is the exact breaking the mold that has to lead directly to freely selective or postmarital relationships. The more the breaking the mold, the more the freely selective or postmarital relationships. Each polygamy opposition is the same as widely scattered secularity. Often times, when ranging across an entire MARITAL SPECTRUM, the spectrum usually PINPOINTS polygamy opposition AND scattered secularity on the TWO FAR SIDES. Each and every MARITAL SPECTRUM are their OWN PINPOINT. The more the polygamy opposition, the more the RELATIONSHIP BUILDING. The more the scattered secularity, the more the INBUILT RELATIONSHIPS; each marital consignment is purely ANTI-LGBT; the PRO-LGBT immediately spells OPPOSITIONAL POLYGAMY ENTIRETY.

In light of female dismissal back during the days of the Revolutionary War, the intimacy between Martin and Gabriel of quality cinematography thoroughly presents the eldest of younger relations seeking military training. As fashions change over time AND as tyrannies fall over time, every once in a while, opposite sex omission MAY HAVE GOTTEN RECONSIDERED, but, for MOST OF THE TIME, ELDEST YOUNGER RELATIONS are bound to see to the INTENTION. For MOST OF THE TIME, the ELDEST YOUNGER RELATIONS are widely PROTECTIVE AND DEFENSIVE of EVERY OTHER YOUNGER RELATION. EVERY OTHER YOUNGER RELATION are widely SHIELDED by the ELDEST YOUNGER RELATIONS. Each GROWING PROCESS of the ELDEST YOUNGER RELATIONS are LESS IDENTIFIABLE whereas the GROWING PROCESS of EVERY OTHER YOUNGER RELATION are MORE IDENTIFIABLE. Each OLDER RELATION OF PRIOR GROWING PROCESS are bound to REEVALUATE NOT BEHAVIOR BUT PRIOR EXPERIENCES AND GROWING EXPERIENCES TO COME. Each PRIOR EXPERIENCE AND GROWING EXPERIENCE TO COME under EVALUATION were once fully PROTECTED AND DEFENDED by the ELDEST YOUNGER RELATIONS. Each EVALUATION under PROTECTION AND DEFENSE by the ELDEST YOUNGER RELATIONS is a GAMBIT. EITHER THAT, or it is entirely up to the ELDEST YOUNGER RELATIONS how to SET FREE OR TIGHTEN OVER EVERY OTHER YOUNGER RELATION.

Martin and Gabriel build a campfire dining on biscuits; the widely natural selection of modern U.S. eastern regions is reminiscent of British agriculture. The HANDMADE WHEAT BREAD has to ensure QUALITY SURVIVAL, though NOT the best FLAVORS. Though NOT the best FLAVORS, each HANDMADE WHEAT BREAD has to become WETTER OR DRIER, NOT MOIST. The more the WET OR DRY WHEAT BREAD, the more the WET has to stay true to SOUP BASE whereas the DRY has to stay true to DAIRY. The more the WET SOUP BASE and DRY DAIRY, the more the BUTTER EXPORTS. Each export had all begun with WHEAT BREAD under HANDMADE QUALITIES. Each HANDMADE QUALITY has to lead directly to EITHER CORN STARCH OR WHEAT DISTRIBUTION. The CORN STARCH ENTIRETY is mostly of AMERICAN AGRICULTURE. WHEAT DISTRIBUTION ENTIRETY may have returned to BRITISH AGRICULTURE.

Jean, a French militia, played by Tcheky Karyo, is lieutenant to the continental army who serves as commander to the continental army side-by-side with Benjamin. The French militia is an example of EARLY ANGLO-FRANCO; the EARLY ANGLO-FRANCO is how the ANGLOPHONIE AND FRANCOPHONIE have sought INTERMIX. The INTERMIX has come to EXCHANGE DIALECT UNDER U.S. REGIONS AWAY FROM ENGLAND AND FRANCE. While it is true CANADIAN CANADIENNE ANGLO-FRANCO are their OWN INTERMIX, the EARLY ANGLO-FRANCO are of the NEW ENGLAND SUPPORT AND OPPOSITION. The more the CANADIAN CANADIENNE ANGLO-FRANCO, the more the TOTAL SEPARATION from the NEW ENGLAND SUPPORT AND OPPOSITION. The more the NEW ENGLAND SUPPORT AND OPPOSITION, the more the MAINE BORDERLINE CROSSING. The TOTAL SEPARATION between the CANADIAN CANADIENNE ANGLO-FRANCO and the NEW ENGLAND SUPPORT AND OPPOSITION is of widely CONTINENTAL CROSSING AND INTERCONTINENTAL BORDERLINE. The CONTINENTAL CROSSING AND INTERCONTINENTAL BORDERLINE are widely CANADIAN REMOVABLE AND REPLACEABLE AND MEXICAN REMOVABLE AND REPLACEABLE. In structural similarity, CANADIAN REMOVABLE AND REPLACEABLE AND MEXICAN REMOVABLE AND REPLACEABLE are a frequent extract of TIJUANA-SAN DIEGO PARTIAL SEPARATION AND COMPLETE SEPARATION OF ANGLO-CASTILLO U.S. REGIONS AND FEDERATION.

One of the militia of Afro descendants has come to head count a number of missing militia; in light of the inability to master literacy, the head count is already clear. The Thirteenth Amendment is under development in the aftermath to the First Amendment; in light of the inability to master literacy, diversity and comprehensive education are widely intermixed to the brink of modernization. Each modern standard in the diversity and comprehensive education are widely stretched into the value of each other. To stretch into the value of each other, each modern standard has to range across skin color dismissal, or skin color predominance. If skin color white or dark were to be predominant, take it the way it is and leave it the way it is; if skin color dismissal white or dark were to be subdominant, take it the way it is and leave it the way it is. The more the skin color predominant and subdominant white and dark, the more each modern standard. Each modern predominant and subdominant white and dark are their own population change. Each population change is determinant of the modern predominant and subdominant white and dark. The determinant WITHOUT deterrence should ought to be ETHNIC MAJORITY EDUCATIONAL SUB-CLASSIFICATION AND CLASSIFIED ETHNICITIES.

The French and Indian War in the background to the American Revolution has often served as oil pastel; the cinematography thoroughly captures the oil pastel. Each polytheist opposition and oppositional belief system are extracts of one another to the brink of leading away from each monotheist venue. While most oppositional belief systems are bound to restore venues, each polytheist opposition may have turned to greater soul searching than before. Often times, soul searching may have begun with polytheist opposition due to repeated monotheist intermix and denominational nonsectarian subclassification. The more the denominational nonsectarian, the more monotheist intermix. This is contrasting in nature to the denominational sectarian, always searching for matching descriptions BOTH in terms of belief systems AND in terms of variable viewpoints. Much of irreligious society under modern standards are shaped up by the POST-REVOLUTIONARY AMERICAN. In light of the SUBSIDING belief systems there ever were, the denominational nonsectarian are of GREATER POPULATION than the denominational sectarian. There is NO expecting of BELIEF SYSTEMS WITH MATCHING VIEWPOINTS TO OUTNUMBER BELIEF SYSTEMS WITH VARIABLE VIEWPOINTS.

Colonel Tavington sets a trap for Gabriel. The eldest younger relation to Martin journeys into his quest for his father’s vengeance. He unfortunately loses the battle and is slain by the Colonel. Martin has arrived at the scene after the Colonel manages to make an escape. He schedules a time to mourn over his son’s burial. In the meantime, the rise to Confederacy has just begun. Martin carries into preparing for battle with each tin having been molded into grenades. The molded tin reminds him very much of his past life. The voice of Mel Gibson in the role of Martin reflects on his past life directly from the death of his eldest younger relation.

The development of the Confederate flag has reached its final touches and has come to be raised by Martin. The PRELIMINARY AMERICAN FLAG has turned to PRIOR REGULARITY apart from SECESSIONIST AND SUCCESSION STATEHOOD. The PRELIMINARY AMERICAN FLAG is all about CLASSICAL LIBERALISM AND CLASSICAL CONSERVATISM. The FIFTY STATEHOODS, on the other hand, are widely MODERN LIBERAL AND MODERN CONSERVATIVE. In order to strive towards a POSTMODERN LIBERAL AND POSTMODERN CONSERVATIVE, it is ESSENTIAL to chose between the CLASSICAL AND MODERN. EVERY OTHER LIBERTARIAN may apply. Each and every CLASSICAL AND MODERN LIBERAL AND CONSERVATIVE are of EVERY OTHER TIMESPAN. EVERY OTHER TIMESPAN are restorative of the LIBERTARIANISM on its OWN. It is because of that that MODERN LIBERALISM AND CONSERVATISM inevitably OUTNUMBER the CLASSICAL LIBERAL AND CONSERVATIVE.

Martin has finally arrived at the scene of the battlefield, chiefly remembered for its infamous portrait of the 1776 Revolutionary War. As the Confederate flag is raised, the CLASSICAL LIBERALISM AND CLASSICAL CONSERVATISM begins to come forth. The frequently MISCONCEIVED AND MISLEAD SYMBOL of inciting WARMONGERING should ought to be CONDUCT AND COMPOSURE extract of the PAST. Each CONDUCT AND COMPOSURE extract of the PAST is of a POST-REVOLUTIONARY AMERICAN INFLUENCE. The more the POST-REVOLUTIONARY AMERICAN INFLUENCE, the more the REFLECTIONS OF AN AMERICAN HERITAGE. It is because of that that FIFTY STATEHOODS are bound to carry GREATER HERITAGE THAN THE POST-REVOLUTIONARY AMERICAN. The more the POST-REVOLUTIONARY AMERICAN, the more the FIFTY STATEHOODS. The more the CONDUCT AND COMPOSURE extract of the PAST, the more CONFEDERATE. Martin wins the battle over the Colonel, and, this time, the war is over.

The finding of a brave new world having been envisioned by Gabriel has finally come forth; the long lost timespan that came prior to Lady Liberty was that of the French and Indian postsecondary. Each POST-REVOLUTIONARY AMERICAN ANCESTRY is where each CIVILIAN has their own story to tell. In light of the fictitious plot to the 2000 feature film, each POST-REVOLUTIONARY AMERICAN ANCESTRY are their OWN HERITAGE having LEAD PASS one another. Each POST-REVOLUTIONARY AMERICAN ANCESTRY lead directly to the finding of a BRAVE NEW WORLD once envisioned by the AFTERMATH ITSELF, in light of the fictitious plot to the 2000 feature film. Each Lady Liberty preliminary and French and Indian postsecondary are the exact TIMESPAN that serve as TRANSITIONAL from the OLD TO THE NEW. The TIMESPAN that serves as TRANSITIONAL from the OLD TO THE NEW in the case of the AMERICAN REVOLUTION had begun as Lady Liberty preliminary. In light of the frequently remarked “viva la France,” the remark “viva la liberté” has proven to be of GREATER LEGACY. The SIBLINGHOOD that UNIFIES each NATIONAL DEMONYM to each other need to have a valid MOTTO. One way OR another, there is NO REVERSING OR RECIPROCATING ANY CULTURAL REVOLUTION OTHER THAN THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION OF THE PAST.

Sincerely,

Michael Chang

* (access restricted policy and guidelines on IMDB, YouTube, Netflix, Instagram, or TikTok (18+))

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heavenboy09 · 2 years ago

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25 Years Ago Today

On May 20th, 1998

Something Happened That Changed The World 🌎 As We Know It Forever

In 1998

The World Bared Witnessed To A Unprecedented Event That Took The World By Storm

What If The Arrogance Of Man & The Their Way Of Building Weapons of Global Destruction

Caused A Rift In The Earth's Natural Eco System

Instead Of Destorying Matter Of Life itself with such a Atomic Weapon

It Recreated Something Else Entirely

& In Time

It Grew To Become

THE WORLD'S GREATEST NIGHTMARE THAT IT BROUGH UPON ITSELF

In The 1940's To 1950's

During a nuclear test, the French government inadvertently mutates a Species Of Animal in The French Polynesian Islands 🏝

They Thought Nothing Survived The Nuclear Testing ☢

THEY THOUGHT WRONG

Out In The South Pacific Ocean 🌊

A UNIDENTIFIED OBJECT CRASHED & DESTORY A SHIPPING CONTAINER

& LATER ON

GIGANTIC FOOTPRINTS 👣 WAS FOUND OFF THE COAST OF JAMAICA 🇯🇲 & PANAMA 🇵🇦

NOW A TRAJECTORY OF THIS LARGE UNIDENTIFIED ORGANISM

IS HEADING OFF TO THE COAST OF EASTERN SEABOARD

AND IT'S DESTINATION IS PRETTY MUCH CLEAR.

ITS HEADING

TO THE CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS

THE BIG APPLE 🍎

NEW YORK CITY 🗽

DR. NIKO TATOPOULOS

AN EXPERT ON THE EFFECTS OF RADIATION ON ANIMALS, IS SENT BY THE U.S. GOVERNMENT TO STUDY THE PHENOMENON OF THIS CREATURE & FIND OUT WHAT IT WANTS & WHAT IT IS DOING IN NEW YORK

AS THE CITY OF NEW YORK WITNESSES THIS UNBELIEVABLE & TERRIFYING CREATURE OF UNSPEAKABLE POWER 🔋

1 THING COMES TO MIND

THE WORLD 🌎 HAD THIS COMING

FROM TRISTAR PICTURES & CENTREPOLIS ENTERTAINMENT PRESENTS

IN ASSOCIATION WITH TOHO.COMPANY

A ROLAND EMMERICH FILM 🎥

STARRING MATTHEW BRODERICK

& JEAN RENO

DONT LET ANYONE TELL YOU DIFFERENT

SIZE

DOES

MATTER

BUT ONLY IF IT'S HIM

GODZILLA 🐲

HAPPY 25TH ANNIVERSARY TO TRISTAR PICTURES

GODZILLA 🐲 #Godzilla1998 #Godzilla #Zilla

#Godzilla 1998 #Godzilla #Zilla #Spotify

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monmonstres · 7 years ago

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ship tags

#mack & cade༻with marks so deep we got tiger teeth #cade & sonya༻you’re my anchor #ikenna & bonnie༻there’s always time for second guesses #andy & atticus༻don’t get it twisted #andy & grim༻no one’s gonna hurt you love #andy & rory & emmerich & warren༻best friends i’ve ever had #shir & destin & gisila༻we’ll always have each other’s backs #joliette & lorette༻lay us down we’re in love #emmerich & rory༻whether near or far #rory & grim༻you’ve found me #mari & oswald༻better for yourself #rory & circe༻you’ll be in my heart #hecate & circe༻you’re a witch now act like it #andy & gwen & circe & blair༻the same stardust runs in our veins #andy & alison༻i am always yours #mari & shir༻you better thank the stars you’re useful #rory & oswald༻you’re my best friend #destin & joliette༻that if you had thrown yourself down into the lion's den my brother I'd follow you in #squad༻i never had any friends later on like the ones i had when i was 12 #grim & jason༻you’re bad and you should feel bad #jason & circe༻well you are the only exception #boo & emile༻words have the utmost power

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racheyace · 3 years ago

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Moon (GT)

New characters, new story, don’t know if there will be more but please tell me what you think, maybe I will continue with it.

Short story of Moon and Emmerich here: That’s something you don’t see everyday

Word Count: 4305

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

“You’re a waste of space”

“Why don’t you just run away freak”

“Did you honestly think you would make any friends”

The laughter echoed off the walls of the library at the latest school that my mother had enrolled me in. For the longest time I can remember we have bounced around school and towns, mum struggles to keep a job and I struggle to blend in and so we are constantly on the move.

Travelling to a new town was always my favorite part of our ritual, I would usually be sitting in my room crying after the latest torment of bullies from school and mum would burst in the door with a glint in her eye.

“Flowers give me the most wicked hay fever, how about we beat it?” her last job had been at a florist, she spoke for days about her wonderful flower arrangements she had come up with, usually they were very abstract and apparently the owner did not approve. It didn’t matter what the excuse was, the job didn’t fit, the school wasn’t right for me, so we beat it. On a continuous loop of fresh starts, yet they all seemed to play out the same.

Once in the car we would laugh and play a game called ‘drop the pin’ we laid out a map and let a pin drop onto it and wherever it landed was where we would go next, didn’t matter how far away it was or how outrageous it was, that’s where we would go. And then we spent hours singing loudly in the car just enjoying each other’s company. We would talk about everything and nothing or sit peacefully in silence.

And so when I came home from school today I sat in my room with my notebook and charcoal pencil and began to scribble the pain away. Mum had a new job as a beauty stylist for dogs, yes it’s as random and amazing as it sounds, and my new school was the same as it always was, the whispers and judgments, no one ever spoke to me, they would take one look at me and decide I was not normal, I didn’t fit in or I didn’t belong.

My choice in clothes was seen as ratty, I saw it as creative. I make all my own clothes from bits and pieces I find at secondhand shops, mum taught me how to sew and make clothing and it immediately become my creative release. Something I could make for myself that was so uniquely me.

“Your so very talented Moon” my mother would say.

My name was another reason people tended to think I was a freak, Moon wasn’t a very common name and maybe it seemed kind of witchy to people or just too out there. I loved my name, I was born during a full moon and my mother had said the moon spoke to her that night and told her that I was destined for magical things and so she couldn’t find a better suited name for me other then Moon. My mother always had a way of making the smallest things seem incredible and full of adventure.

I looked down at my notebook, I had drawn a troll with a large nose and covered in warts, this troll also had long curly hair and way too much lipstick, it reminded me of a particularly nasty girl at my new school. I titled it Natalie as the drawing definitely suited her and then I slapped the book closed as if giving her a slap in the face.

I huffed loudly and laid back on my bed staring at the ceiling and waiting impatiently for my mother to come home.

As if I on cue, the door swung open, and my mother popped her head in with a smile on her face. Her deep red hair curled and bounced around her face and shoulders, giving her the look of a mad scientist’s wife, but it suited her so well.

“I’ve discovered that dogs in this industry tend to be just as pompous as their owners” she stated and laid down beside me.

“Is that so” I said hiding the smile in my tone “groomed one too many poodles?” I asked her and giggled.

She rolled her eyes “Yep, let’s beat it kid” she sat up and left the room. I could hear her digging around in her suitcase, we had been here for about 3 weeks and hadn’t unpacked, we never did.

She came back into the room and laid out a large map on the carpet and sat cross legged in front of it.

“Care to do the honors?” she asked with a wink holding out a pink pin for me.

As was custom I sat beside her and we held hands and closed our eyes, with my free hand holding the pin in a fist, I silently prayed for a fresh start and acceptance, I dropped the pin. When we opened our eyes, we had a new destination set for us.

Jaeville was across the border into giant territory, we had once landed close to the border where more giants were frequent in the town, but we had never crossed the border before. Of course, giants and humans live all over the country nowadays, but the border still stands and its common knowledge that you will find more of a particular species on the appropriate side of the border. More humans on the human side and more giants on the giant side.

Of course, I had seen giants before, gone to school with them but just like everyone else even they tended to think I was weird and kept their distance from me

My mother smiled at me “Well this will be very interesting”, I laughed at her “What kind of work do you even think you’ll be able to get there? I can just picture you trying to serve a giant a cup of coffee”.

“Sounds like a challenge I’m willing to except, plus I kinda like the idea of being a tiny assistant for a big-time banker” she winked at me, and I rolled my eyes.

We packed the car that afternoon and were on the road almost immediately, we often stayed in cheap motels that mum would pay for day by day in case we wanted to leave with little notice. We stopped by a MacDonald’s and had a greasy dinner and then pumped Bon Jovi singing at the top of our lungs to ‘It’s my life’.

We drove through the night until morning, I stayed up with her, I always thought it was unfair that I got to sleep while she had to drive, so we often played number plate games or eye spy to keep each other entertained. This year I would get my license so that we could finally share the driving, or so I hoped.

It was 4:30 in the morning when we began to notice the change in the scenery, the trees became taller, the road became wider and instead of rows of human houses and a few scattered giant ones, there were rows of positively ginormous houses and only a few human sized ones. We noticed a patch of daffodils a way up the road and as we pulled up to them, they grew in size and towered over our car.

We stared at the magnificent plants for a while and then got out of the car, we walked up to the stalk of one daffodil and stared up in awe. Mum shook her head snapping out of the trance and smiled at me, without a word she grabbed my arms and began to spin and dance in and around the bases of the flowers.

When we grew out of puff, we collapsed beneath the flowers our crazy hair splayed around us, my multicolored rainbow hair mixing with her deep red and we just watched the sky grow lighter and lighter.

“Now we are ready for Jaeville” mum said still staring at the sky above us.

I only smiled in response, I definitely felt ready, the daffodil dance inspired me and made me feel like I belonged to the environment around me even if it was dramatically out of my proportions. Mum always had a way of making things particularly special.

We drove for another hour or so until we came across a large building with a sign high above us that read ‘Jaeville motel – Giant and Human accommodation available 24/7’. Mum pulled into the directed human car park, and we sat in the car in silence for a moment.

“Ready Moon?” she asked.

“Ready” I said.

We got out of the car and collected our suitcases from the boot and followed the white outlined human path into the motel, through the human entrance we took an elevator up to reception that came out on the front desk with some chairs and a bell line dup against the wall to wait for reception staff.

Mum rang the bell and a few seconds later we could feel the footfalls of a giant approaching the desk. A young giantess approached us with a gentle smile on her face, she looked to be only a few years older than me, maybe in her early twenties.

“Welcome to Jaeville, how can I help you?” she asked politely, she looked at us politely and paused on me for a moment too long “Oh my, your hair is…. Interesting” she said with a nervous laugh.

My hair was naturally a deep red like my mother’s, but when I was a child she noticed I would develop lighter and darker streaks, she said it made my hair look like a rainbow when the sun shone on it. So naturally I decided to make it that way, I dyed my hair all colours of the rainbow and worked really hard to maintain it. No one else but me and my mother appreciated it and I guess that’s why I kept it that way, even if I was judged for it by others, it was another special reminder of my relationship with my mother.

“We would like a room for two please, I’m not sure how long we will be staying, can I pay by the day?” mum skipped over her comment about my hair and was straight to business, I think she just wanted to get to the room, have a much-needed shower and sleep the day away. Me too.

“Of course,” said the giantess, she went over the details with my mother and handed her a key, we were directed to go up the elevator to the 2nd floor and follow the human path to room 39.

We discovered upon exiting the elevator that the human path was an elevated platform with railings that stretched above the doorways of the giants’ rooms with the human rooms located above the giant ones. I guess that avoids any unwanted accidents. Of course, looking down there was also the same white markings of a human path on the floor far below, I guess we could use it if we wanted to, but I would be nervous someone might not see me way down there.

“Well my sweet Moon, I’m going to get some shut eye for a few hours, then how about you and me explore the town a little and find a nice place for dinner, yeah?” mum had already claimed the twin bed closest to the window and dumped her suitcase beside it, she gave me a squeeze and twirled her finger through my curly crazy rainbow hair and then kissed me gently on the forehead before closing the bedroom door.

I thought about going to sleep but thinking about our dance with the daffodils made me feel energized, I wanted to explore, now. I left mum a note in case she woke up and took the key with me and headed back down the hall, my first plan was to explore the motel.

First, I wandered the human platform and found it to be pretty boring, it only led to more rooms that were seemingly empty beside a couple that were staying in a room two doors from us in number 41 who were arguing loudly. I retraced my steps to the elevator and went up floor by floor and found the elevator only ever took me to more human platforms that lead to more rooms. Very uninteresting.

Finally, I made it up to the top floor which opened up into a very large room where there were no human platforms, I was at floor level with any giants who may be wondering around. But there were none. There was a breeze that blew through my hair, and I noticed that the far end of the room was open, no window no doors just open into the air, the rest of the room was filled with small gardens, flowers, fruit, and vegetables scattered around the room with a few trees here and there and benches appropriately sized for humans as well as giants littered about as well.

This must have been the roof of the motel and they definitely took advantage of the space, it was quiet and still, open, and free and the scent and moisture in the air from the plants around me calmed me to my core. As I wondered around, I came across a lemon tree that was relatively skinny for a giant-sized tree and decided it was bendy and twisted enough for me to climb. And so, I did.

I made it to the top of the tree where it was covered in leaves and fresh lemons ripe enough to pick and found a groove in the branches that was comfortable enough to sit in. I pulled out a book from my colorful patchy shoulder bag and began to read quietly, embracing the peacefulness of the space.

I didn’t even realize that I had fallen asleep until a loud honk suddenly woke me up, I flinched and sat up too quickly and lost my footing, I began to fall.

The beautiful garden room rushed by me as I prepared myself for the harsh impact with the floor that would surely significantly injure me if I was lucky or kill me if I was not. But it never came, instead I fell on a kind of fabric that bounced slightly underneath me as I landed on it.

Carefully I got my knees trying to figure out exactly how I managed to survive, the surface beneath me was blue and rough but warm and gave a little as I pressed my hands and knees into it.

“Woah” a voice somewhere above me seemed to echo around me, immediately I stood up but lost balance on the weird surface and fell back on my butt looking up at a giant boy with striking green eyes and crazy ginger hair staring down at me with his mouth hung open in shock. He had both hands in the air almost in surrender, or surprise, one held a golden trumpet, the reason I suspected for my rude awakening and the other just hanging in the sky.

We stared at each other for a long time in shock, unsure of what to do or how to even get down from the boys jean clad lap I discovered I had landed on. Hey at least I was alive.

“I’m sorry!” he finally blurted, he quickly placed his trumpet down on the wooden bench beside him and then his hands descended on me. I backtracked, quickly sliding myself further and further away from his oncoming hands, it probably should have occurred to me that knees come to an end.

“Watch out!” he shouted as my hands touched air behind me and I fell backwards, plummeting yet again, this time a warm and very unfamiliar surface caught me and I was immediately halted in my descent and instead raised upwards closer to his face.

I rested in the center of his two cupped hands, it was warm and slightly humid, leathery, it was such an alien feeling. My heart started to pound the closer I got to his face, he watched me with the same kind of astonishment and fear perhaps, or maybe it was concern, I couldn’t be sure.

“L-let me go!” I stuttered, I had finally found my voice, there was nowhere I could go I was stranded in his hands held who knows how high off the ground.

“Right, right, I’m sorry” he said, he had an English accent I noticed.

His hand descended and I was lowered to the ground at his feet, maybe I didn’t think this through. He laid his hand out flat on the ground and I immediately jumped off, I wanted to kiss the ground but decided to hold off on that extreme gesture.

I looked back up at the giant, deciding to avoid staring at his black Van covered feet, his face was now so far away, and his body seemed to stretch for miles, I had seen giants before, even interacted with them from the safety of human railings, but I had never ever been this close before.

He seemed to sense my nervousness and stood up. Not helping giant! Though he then immediately sat down on the ground cross legged in front of me as if that might put me at ease if he wasn’t so obviously tall. I just stood there watching him cautiously, I shouldn’t be so scared, giants are people just like humans, but just much larger.

I fell on him, really, I should probably be the one apologizing.

He broke the staring contest by reaching for something on the wooden bench he had been sitting on, oh god not that trumpet again, but he didn’t pick up the trumpet, instead he held something positively miniscule between his thumb and forefinger, I realized what it was straight away.

“Um I believe this is yours” he said holding it out in front of me, I reached towards his fingers and plucked my book out of his grasp.

“Oh, um thank you…. Giant?” oh I’m so stupid, obviously his name is not giant, great job Moon, you’ve probably offended him.

He laughed, a low thundering sound that I could feel in my chest, it felt... strange.

“My name is Emmerich and it’s no problem, I’m sorry if I startled you, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here let alone hiding in a tree” he smiled softly at me, and I could see the freckles splattered across his nose and cheeks.

I blushed from embarrassment, why would I call him giant, maybe I really am a freak, no social etiquette whatsoever, he must think I’m so rude. Introduce yourself, that’s the next thing to do, or maybe that might make things worse, though Emmerich isn’t really a common name either.

“Moon” I blurted, oh inward face palm “My name is Moon” good start moron.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted you, I must have drifted off in the tree, um I didn’t mean to fall on you…. twice” I laughed nervously and scratched the back of my neck, maybe I should leave him in peace now.

“Yeah we uh don’t get many human guests here and I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen any humans wonder in here before, I guess because this room has no safety railings, I didn’t even think to look around, I truly am sorry, I assumed I was alone” his eyebrows scrunched in concern and he leaned down closer to me “Are you alright, that must have been pretty frightening”.

Without thought I took a step back away from his face, the closeness overwhelming me, I nodded my head in acknowledgment of the seemingly empty room and at my wellbeing, I really was fine, just a bit shaken.

He pulled away again giving me space, his eyes scanned over me and his lips twitched up in a small smile “Moon is a very unique name kind of like your hair” he extended a finger towards my head and I took several steps back.

“Sorry” he said again and clasped his hands together in his lap as if to restrain his fingers from reaching for me.

“I’m not a very social person, forgive me for being so intrusive” he looked down at his lap, he resembled a shameful puppy.

“No your fine, I’m still a little jumpy I guess, I’m not particularly social either” I hesitated for a moment “Um well I can go if you wanted to continue playing your trumpet, sorry again for disrupting you” I turned to leave.

“You don’t have to go, I mean” he paused “Obviously you can go if you want to, but I um wouldn’t mind the company, we don’t generally get kids my age staying here, usually it’s just old, retired travelers” I turned to look at him, his striking green eyes seemed hopeful for companionship.

“I guess I could hang around for a while” I said making up my mind, perhaps I would make a friend for once, so far, he hasn’t been unkind or judgmental of me, he didn’t even seem that concerned about my name or hair colour, maybe this would be a good thing. Maybe I was putting in too much hope.

“Okay, brilliant” he says smiling, he places his hands on the ground either side of me “I’m just going to lay on my stomach, then you wont strain your neck” he explains.

I watch as he slowly lowers himself down and crosses his arms under his chin, he is a few feet away from me but still feels extremely close, or maybe he just looks magnified. I can see every freckle on his face, I can see the slight anxious blush in his cheeks and the light and dark hues of green in his eyes, his curly red hair hangs around his face in bouncy little spirals. Everything is just so…. Big.

To stop myself staring too much I sit down in the grass and cross my legs, I pick at a few strands of grass and fiddle with them in my lap.

“So how long have you lived here for?” I ask wanting to break the silence.

“Me and my Dad moved here when I was six, Dad’s dream was to run a bed and breakfast so he bought this motel, we have made some improvements but it’s still a long way from the cozy bed and breakfast he really wants” looking around this room in particular you can tell that a lot of love and time has already been put into making the place feel homey.

“What about you, what brings you to Jaeville?” he asks bringing my attention back to him.

“Mum and me kind of just bounce around the country, mum picks up jobs where she can but we are sort of just going wherever the wind takes us I guess, it’s nice” I fiddle with my long patch work skirt and busy myself with fraying the hem, I would fix it later, this skirt in particular was a favorite of mine and has been fixed and modified many times, its due for another touch up.

“That seems kind of lonely, do you keep in touch with friends?” he looked sort of sympathetic like he pitied the lifestyle my mother and me had chosen.

“Don’t really have any, my mother and I are really close, I don’t feel very lonely, at least not often I guess” I began to mumble, maybe I was lonely, I never seemed to fit in no matter where I went. And when mum was at work I would sit alone, drawing in my notebook and dwelling on the hurtful things people say about me every day. It does sound kind of lonely.

He seemed to pick up on my feelings, he looked so sad for me but there also shone an understanding in those eyes as well “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to upset you, I don’t have a lot of friends either. Perhaps we should change to a lighter subject, I did notice you were reading, what is it about?” he smiled reassuringly.

I pulled out my book and sat it in my lap “For the 3rd time I’m reading ‘Graceling by Kristin Cashore’” I said proudly, it really was a wonderful story and one of my favorites.

His eyes widened “I love that book, I’ve read it twice so far myself” he smiled again, he seems to do that a lot.

“Perhaps you could read it out loud? I didn’t bring my copy with me, but if that’s too we-“

“Emmerich! Room 26 needs fresh towels! Could you see if we have any clean pressed ones ready!?” a loud shout filled the room coming from the giants’ entrance to the roof, I couldn’t see the man who had spoken as we were a fair way into the room, but his deep voice shook the very foundations.

“Sorry Moon, I’ve got to go, perhaps another time and I’ll bring my book too, are you staying here long?” he lifted himself up into a crouch ready to go.

“At least a few weeks” I said quickly.

“Great I’ll see you around then” and just like that he stood and ran off shaking the ground beneath him.

I walked back towards the elevator with my head reeling, what a day. First, we arrive across the border into giant territory, dance around giant daffodils, I climb a humongous lemon tree only to fall into a giant’s lap, then fall off the giant’s lap, said giant saved my life twice and I may or may not have made my first ever friend. Definitely not a normal day for Moon.

#gt #gtfluff #sizedifference #giant #tiny

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pipocacomcafe · 4 years ago

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Onde Vivem os Monstros (2009)

Where the Wild Things Are

Dire��ão: Spike Jonze;

Roteiro: Spike Jonze e Dave Eggers; baseado no livro de Maurice Sendak;

Gênero: Aventura; Drama; Família; Fantasia;

País: Alemanha, Austrália e EUA.

Esta fantasiosa fábula de Spike Jonze, baseada no livro infantil de Maurice Sendak, descreve uma aventura ambientada no aparelho psíquico de uma criança de nove anos. Max (Max Records) é um garoto extremamente criativo, mas introspectivo e melancólico. Sentindo-se preterido dentro casa, onde vive com sua mãe (Catherine Keener) e sua irmã mais velha (Pepita Emmerichs), e após uma acalorada briga com a mãe, enciumado com o namoro dela, Max foge num ato de rebeldia. Vestindo uma fantasia de lobo, ele corre pelas ruas até chegar à beira de um lado, onde uma embarcação o espera; tão prontamente ele embarca, a lagoa transforma-se num oceano e Max é transportado para a ilha onde vivem os monstros - ou, “as coisas selvagens” (wild things), seguindo a tradução literal do título original. Cada habitante da ilha dos monstros tem personalidades bastante definidas que são, num plano significativo mais amplo, manifestações de facetas emotivas do próprio Max: impetuosidade, criatividade, agressividade, melancolia, etc.

Com a promessa de espantar terminantemente a tristeza e a melancolia dentre os monstros, Max é entronado o rei da ilha. Porém, com o tempo, os monstros percebem que Max não é verdadeiramente um rei e não tem poderes para manter afastados a tristeza e os sentimentos negativos. É nesse momento que ele decide voltar para a casa e, neste sentido, a despedida da ilha dos monstros representa imageticamente o amadurecimento psíquico de Max: o abandono da egocentricidade infantil e a percepção de que não tem poderes para modificar as coisas que não estão ao seu alcance.

Onde Vivem os Monstros constitui-se numa bela, porém triste, metáfora sobre amadurecimento. Um filme que aborda com ternura a tentativa de uma criança em compreender as mudanças físicas, emotivas e psíquicas em seu redor e em si mesma: cada diálogo que Max trava com os monstros da ilha, neste sentido, representa verbo-imageticamente uma tentativa de compreensão. O filme no entanto, funciona melhor com adultos do que com crianças e este é, talvez, seu ponto mais franco: uma vez que sua produção destinou-se ao público infantil.

⭐ 3.8 / 5.0

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pamphletstoinspire · 5 years ago

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Hell Is Real — and It Isn’t Empty

Bishop Robert Barron, the auxiliary bishop of Los Angeles and a pioneer of online evangelism, is hardly prone to controversy. Yet the telegenic prelate stirred something of a firestorm back in June that continues to spill ink today. In fact, it isn’t a new debate at all. Commenting on the Gospel reading for June 25 (Matthew 7), Bishop Barron noted that, “from time immemorial,” people have asked who will be saved and who will be damned. In response, Barron argues:

The official answer of the Church is that we don’t know. We are clearly warned about the real possibility of damnation. We do indeed know that there are many in heaven, for the saints are formally declared to be so. But there are no anti-saints in the Church; there is no one whom the Church has formally declared to be a denizen of Hell.

Therefore, without succumbing for a moment to anything-goes presumption, we are permitted to hope that all people might be saved. Indeed, St. Paul writes to Timothy: “God wants all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.”

Bishop Barron’s meditation was widely compared to a famed (or infamous) question posed by Swiss theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar: “Dare we hope that all men be saved?” (Barron is a well-known fan of von Balthasar’s.)

Barron is also by no means the first widely respected prelate to flirt with a kind of universalism. The great Avery Cardinal Dulles also claimed that orthodox Catholics may answer von Balthasar’s question in the affirmative. Before him, St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross — widely known by her secular name, Edith Stein — postulated something similar. Her argument goes like this: if God loves everyone (which we know he does), and if everyone can open themselves up to his love (which we know they can), then it’s possible to hope that God will find ways of outsmarting human resistance to him.

Yet, if one thinks that to “hope that all men be saved” means that everyone who has ever lived will evade hell, I would argue that this position is contrary to Holy Scripture, Holy Tradition, magisterial teaching, and personal revelations to saintly Catholics through the centuries.

First, Scripture. Jesus and the authors of the New Testament mention hell more than a few times, and some of these verses certainly seem to suggest it’s populated. Jesus tells us that the way to destruction is wide and easy. (Matthew 7:13-14) Elsewhere, he speaks of sheep and goats, the latter being destined for everlasting punishment. (Matthew 25:31-46) In Luke’s Gospel, he warns: “Depart from me, all you workers of iniquity. There you will weep and gnash your teeth.” (13:27-28) The Book of Revelation teaches: “But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters and all liars—they will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur. This is the second death.” (21:8) Are we to interpret all of these warnings as empty threats — as if, in this one case, our Lord will not follow through on his word?

There is also consensus among the early Church Fathers about hell being populated. St. Ignatius of Antioch declared that “corrupters of families will not inherit the kingdom of God… A man become so foul will depart into unquenchable fire: and so will anyone who listens to him.” The second epistle of Pope St. Clement I reads: “If we neglect his commandments, nothing will rescue us from eternal punishment.” St. Justin Martyr likewise taught that “we believe that they who live wickedly and do not repent will be punished in everlasting fire.” St. Irenaeus wrote that God will “send the spiritual forces of wickedness, and the angels who transgressed and became apostates, and the impious, unjust, lawless, and blasphemous among men into everlasting fire.”

Such consensus is also found in magisterial teaching. The Councils of Lyon I (1245), Lyon II (1274), and Florence (1439), as well as Pope Benedict XII’s bull Benedictus Deus (1336), teach that everyone who dies in a state of mortal sin suffers eternal punishment in Hell. Several local medieval councils also state that some who died in a state of sin have been punished by eternal damnation. The Catechism (CCC §1022, 1035) affirms this teaching.

Finally, many saints and other Catholics have received visions of hell as populated. Among these are St. Teresa of Avila, Servant of God Lucy of Fatima, Blessed Catherine Emmerich, St. John Bosco, and St. Faustina Kowalska. Lucy of Fatima described “a vast sea of fire. Plunged in this fire, we saw the demons and the souls” of the damned. St. Faustina meanwhile wrote of the tortures suffered by all the damned together, but that is not the end of their sufferings. There are special tortures destined for particular souls. These are the torments of the senses. Each soul undergoes terrible and indescribable sufferings, related to the manner in which it has sinned.

The question “dare we hope…?” might best be classified as a useful theological exercise, but we simply lack the evidence to answer with a definite “Yes.” The famous phrase of the Fatima Prayer, “lead all souls to heaven,” should probably best be interpreted to mean all souls alive right now, who could certainly exhibit supernatural faith in Christ at any point prior to death. The challenge for every individual person, from first-century Palestine to 21st-century America remains the same: which path will you choose?

BY: CASEY CHALK

From: https://www.pamphletstoinspire.com/

#hell is real

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iamwhelmed · 6 years ago

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Win One, Have Two: Chapter 13

Okay, it has been 9 long months and I haven’t updated. For that, oh my god I am so, so sorry. I knew I was feeling uninspired but that’s really no excuse! It’s okay, it’s summer now, so I can focus a little more on writing. Hopefully you guys still have interest ^^’ Anyway,

Here it is on AO3

It'd taken them the better half of thirty minutes to collect what they'd need for what Miss Rose was referring to, for the moment, as a "field trip"- no parental release forms necessary because, as she'd made abundantly clear, "I am the only adult you need to be worried about". Except for Crawford, who spent the fifteen minutes it took everyone else to get ready standing outside smoking a cigar with an unbothered look on his face. Clara was the first of the three students done, and waited next to Crawford with her messenger bag full of supplies slung over her shoulders. She looked to him, and he lazily glanced at her from the side.

"You know smoking is horrible for your lungs, right?"

"If anything's gonna take me out 'for my livin' does, I'm gonna die a happy man knowin' it was my vice."

Clara's lips pursed into a straight line.

The front door creaked open; Hardy stepped out first, unzipping his backpack to slip the dagger through its army green folds. Isaac was right behind him, arching an eyebrow at the very functioning door that he, quite frankly, was surprised was still on its hinges after last night. He frowned and grabbed Hardy's wrist, twisting it around to look at his watch. Hardy remained unbothered, trapping his bag between his legs as he used his other hand to close the zipper the rest of the way, concealing the dagger safe and sound in a multitude of pockets. Isaac huffed through his nose- 5am. Correction, then; the attack happened *earlier this morning. Adrenaline and the primal need to not get his head torn clean off of his shoulders had kept his sleep-addled brain at bay, but now that it had time to process that the world had settled again, it was urging him to rest.

There was a hand at his shoulder. Isaac jumped, but he saw the streak of purple in raven hair and found the nerves of his brain settling. It was just Miss Rose. She caught his gaze and gave him a small smile, soft, though he could tell she was strung a little higher than usual. She brushed by him and turned only to lock the door behind her. "Is everyone ready to go?"

"Yeah," Isaac watched as Hardy slipped his bag onto his shoulders. "So, how exactly are we planning on finding our friendly neighborhood home invaders?"

Rose smiled, this time more like she usually did, bright and reassuring. "Same way I look for spectral artifacts! I let Magnus lead the way!"

Isaac raised an eyebrow, and god help him, he swore the top half of his face was going to get stuck that way someday. "Magnus?"

Crawford took another puff, rounding his lips so that the smoke took on a circular shape. Miss Rose waved it away and gave him a look- the kind wives give their husbands over shoes left at the front door- and he grimaced, but dropped the cigar and put it out with his heel anyway. "Well, don't keep 'em waitin', Rose." Clara moved closer to Isaac and Hardy, eager to get a look. Isaac glanced at her and Hardy, and the looks of curiosity so plainly painting their crinkled noses and furrowed brows. Must be new to them, too.

Rose rolled her shoulders in a semi-committal, but ultimately nonchalant shrug. "Yeah, yeah. I'm just not looking forward to the lecture I'm gonna get." She reached into her back pocket and procured what appeared to be a compass. Small, silver, sat perfectly in the palm of her hand, like it was sculpted especially for her. Her eyes fluttered shut, and Isaac could tell from the small rim of purple aflame under her eyelashes that she'd connected with her spirit.

"What is it this time, Mari?"

Rose opened her eyes, finding beady black staring into the abyss that was her soul- or, rather… maybe staring into the abyss that was her curious nature. It made her good at artifact hunting, maybe not the best spectral partner, though. "Okay, okay. I deserve that. But it's important this time!"

Magnus turned and flew a few feet away, back of his body (a long eel-like tail covered in fur) brushing vaguely against her nose. He looked a lot like a basset hound, one that a particularly squealing-prone Sherlock Holmes fan had dressed in a deerstalker and matching coat for a cute scrapbook. She remembered meeting him the first time, back when she was still greener to the spectral world.

Before she knew that spirits were typically averse to hugs and scritches, no matter how much they looked like a good boy.

Magnus huffed from his throat, gave her a look that only an elderly butler with far too much experience and Magnus himself could level her with. The expectant kind. The kind that dared her to make her case. "So you're admitting you were using me for fun before?"

She abided. "Well no, that stuff was important too, but this is…"

Magnus sighed, the sign he gave her, every single time, to signal he was acquiesce. "What do you need?"

Right, down to business, then. She sobered and stripped her hand of her black glove, holding it out for Magnus to sniff. "There should be a saliva sample on this glove. Can you track it for me?"

He hovered closer, inching his wet nose toward the glove. He sniffed once, then twice, and nodded. He registered the smell, compared it to the large database of scents and stenches he'd picked up on in his near-infinite lifetime. She watched him in silence, but took the moment to slip her glove back on. If she knew Magnus, which she did, then he'd give her a destination, maybe a word for warning. He took a few moments, then did something she hadn't seen him do before. He paused. "This could lead you into Consortium territory, you know…"

"What?" She would have hid the trepidation in her voice, but Magnus had known her too many years for her to play anything cool ever, not that she ever got it by him before. She had a feeling he was a little more a detective than he'd like to admit. Magnus glanced at her with droopy eyes, big ears flopping as he floated in place, like there was an undercurrent breeze that blew from below. "Why?"

"The scent you're handing me matches somebody long lost to the Consortium, I'm afraid. One Catriona Barrett." Rose glanced down at her hand, squeezed her fist around the glove that still had traces of saliva on it. "Disappeared after the Consortium eliminated her lover, which I'm sure you know was a spirit by the name of Emmerich."

"That doesn't make sense. The dagger is perfectly capable of killing humans, but it's just as capable of killing spirits. What would she want with it?"

"A conundrum not meant for me to solve, I'm afraid." Magnus hummed floated away from her, cracking only an eye open to glance at her. He must have seen her frown, because he sighed and momentarily moved closer to her, moved around her in a circle so that his tail could brush up against her cheek and make her nose wiggle. "We were lucky that the dagger was within Cousinhood territory, but you know I'll be leading you-"

"- All over god's creation. Yeah, I know." She smiled his way, gave him a scratch under his chin either to calm herself down or to annoy Magnus. She had no plans to ponder which it was. He glared at her, unamused as always, as he faded from her sight. "I'm afraid that's a risk we're going to have to take."

The compass hovered in mid-air, faintly radiating with the same purple that surrounded herself and Magnus. As the last of Magnus's spirit world faded from view, the compass itself pulsed, like a heartbeat. She held out her hand and waited for it to fall into her palm, cold detailed silver against the fabric of her glove. The pulsing became faster, a more constant stream of vibration until it was buzzing in her hand, meaning Magnus had decided precisely what direction to go in. She nodded south and said "Let's go."

Clara, Hardy, and Isaac glanced to Crawford, who only tipped his hat as confirmation before following closely behind Rose. Hardy exhaled, shoulders slouching as air deflated him like an old balloon. "This should be fun…"

He trudged after Rose and Crawford, Isaac and Clara close behind.

She walked beside Isaac, but he felt her eyes watching him as though they were on his back. He tensed up. "You know, if we pass your hometown…"

He grimaced. "I wouldn't say a word."

He hurried hurried to catch up with Hardy, ignoring the set of eyes that were now definitely watching his retreating frame.

Sewing, as any 18th century woman would tell you, is the cornerstone of femininity. Women practiced the art often, and with the persistence of anybody who had to live their entire life without video games or sports. Sewing also, as any of these 18th century woman would tell you, is a real pain.

Isabel pricked herself for the third- or fourth- time, tried once more to stitch the two pieces of cloth together, and instead decided she'd had quite enough of whatever purgatory she'd found herself stuck in. Sleeping Beauty only had to get pricked ONCE to fall asleep, she'd say that she more than earned a nap. "This is so-!" She flicked her tired wrist around, trying to find the right word. How to best describe the ludicrousness of her current task without lowballing her grievances or insulting her teacher. Ah, yes. That's the right word. "Stupid! This is so stupid! How is sitting here sewing going to save anyone?"

Dimitri glanced up from his sewing job, cool eyebrow raised. Zarei, too, glanced up from her task, reading a book which, comparatively, was a favorable task to whatever this nonsense was. Zarei herself looked bored, but not surprised. She'd most likely been anticipating Isabel's outburst, as was customary once every class. Not every period, no, every class that Isabel had to be subjected to some of the most boring, menial tasks she'd ever had to do for a grade. Zarei's class. "Isabel," Zarei started, and she could already hear the routine disinterest. "In a life or death situation, you may have to temporarily sew and dress or cauterize a wound." She adjusted her glasses and mumbled, in equal irritation, "they wouldn't let me have fire in the classroom, so this will have to do."

"This is a waste of our time!"

Dimitri, as chill as always, lifted one hand, a motion he seemed to carry out every time she had these routine outbursts, as though she was a wild spirit and needed to be tamed and reined in. "Isabel-"

"No! I'm sick of this! The traitor who released those monsters is still out there and we have no idea who they are or what they want!"

Zarei seemed unperturbed, though she shut her book with one snap and set it off to the side of her desk. "Isabel-"

"What are we sitting here sewing for? We're just wasting time-!"

"Isabel!"

She choked, instinctually stepping back as Zarei's hands slammed upon the instructor's desk. This… this was not part of the routine, but she supposed her outburst had been more emotionally-charged than her others had been. Zarei usually took her complaints in stride, even snarked about setting up a suggestions box for Isabel to leave comments in (that way she could dispose of them easier). This time, though, Zarei looked her dead in the eye, unblinking, unmoving. Isabel looked to her left where Dimitri sat at his desk, found his hand still raised cautiously, though it'd moved some to avoid her flaring aura.

Fine.

She growled to herself, sliding back down into her seat, but unwilling to continue stitching. Instead she glared at the two bits of cloth and used the needle to take small jabs at her desk. Zarei wouldn't say anything, would probably just be happy she wasn't complaining. She'd just have to deal with her restlessly squirming in her seat until class was over in another handful of minutes. God, she hoped Max was having a better time.

The gym was larger than the auditorium their Training 101 class typically monopolized. Once the bell had rung and all the class had been seated, when Spender announced that they'd all be transferring to the gym for the day, Max had almost felt the collective sigh of relief that hung like the usual unease in the atmosphere. He glanced at Collin, who had taken to walking the very thin line between the waking world and the unconscious one with his chin rested in his hand, eyes slowly inching shut before they popped open again after a restless three seconds of shut-eye. Johnny sat at his other side, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. Probably the least claustrophobic the psychopath has felt in weeks.

Spender stood at the bottom of the bleachers, raising his hands in a sad attempt to get his large, voluble class to more of a hushed whisper. Because Spender was a quiet man naturally, and passive normally, his voice was lost in the sea of early-morning chit-chat, the kind that was kept in-check by smaller class periods. Max watched with varying degrees of amusement as Spender circulated through every trick in the book to get a bunch of confused, aggravated, loquacious middle-schoolers to shut their overused traps. He first tried to clear his throat. When that didn't work, he tried to drop his teacher's guidebook on the gym floor- when that was stifled and dulled in the vastness of the gym walls, he resorted to yelling at the top of his lungs. That still didn't work, and Max could see the man struggling to figure out how else to reign in a hundred or so students. His calloused hands were clawing at his face, eyes visibly heavy with exhaustion, even behind his shades. When all hope seemed to be lost, Coach Oop set one heavy hand on Spender's shoulder, gave him a pitying look, and got the attention of every student the way only a gym coach knew how- screaming and just being louder than the normal teacher.

Chatter seemed to fade almost instantly, and Spender shot Coach Oop a grateful look.

He cleared his throat as Oop retreated to his office. "Class, today we are going to begin working the physical aspects of your new abilities, rather than your minds." Max could practically feel Johnny vibrating in the seat next to him. He shot the red-head an eye that he ignored entirely. "Now, I've always been more focused on the intellectual end of training-"

"Couldn't tell!"

Spender picked Max out in the crowd immediately, glared at him, and received nothing but a grin in response. "... So I've asked an old master of mine to stand in for me." An elderly man stepped forward, huge and terrifying for being gray in the face. "This is Master Guerra. Say hello, class."

"Hello, Master Guerra…." Roughly a quarter of the class even bothered, and those that did were unenthusiastic at best and downright resentful at worst, clearly not knowing what was ahead of them. Max swallowed hard; he'd heard stories from Ed about Isabel's grandfather, stories that Isabel had commented "didn't even graze the bottom" of just how tough Master Guerra could be. And that was on his granddaughter… what would he be like with kids he had no attachment to? Max felt his spine shiver preemptively at the possibilities. Collin leaned over, now much more awake than he had been two minutes prior, and whispered.

"Hey, is that Isabel's dad or something?"

Max cupped a hand over one side of his mouth so Collin could hear him better. "Grandpa, actually. And probably the embodiment of abuse of power…"

Master Guerra's eyes roamed the crowd, but there was something about his gaze that felt like he was simultaneously singling out every single child in the bleachers. Max had the crazy theory that it was because he was, in actuality, seeing every one of them, judging them, assessing them, what they could do. He clearly didn't like what he was seeing, because he took a step forward and his eyes were no less calculating. "Spineless, each and every one of you. Hardly spectrals, hardly able at all. If you want to be worth anything, you will do as I say, and you will do it the first time!"

The class, silent before, fell deathly mute.

Spender stepped forward, chuckling with a nervous edge as he set one unsure hand on Guerra's shoulder- er, tried to. He decided against it last moment. "Master, these children still hardly understand the concept of tools, perhaps you should tone it down just a little-?"

"You asked for my help. This is what you receive."

"Ah."

Isaac cringed. The little cabin he'd taken shelter in was just as creepy and run-down as when he'd last seen it. Creepier, in fact, now that he'd bled all over its floors.

Crawford stopped at the front door and puffed on the last bit of his cigar. Rose passed him by and reached for the handle, eyes on the compass in her hand. "Should I do it?"

Rose shook her head. "Don't waste the energy yet, Crawford. We know the story here pretty well already." She pressed the door open with a sickeningly loud creak, a sound that made Isaac shudder. "Catriona left this place in a hurry in the dead of night. If we want Magnus to keep her scent, we've gotta find something that will lead us to where she went next."

The group pushed on. Crawford went first, one arm protectively extended in front of Rose, other hand cocked with one of his guns. Rose glanced around, looking for anything that may emit a trace of Catriona's aura, careful to let Crawford open doors. The place should have been abandoned, but the odds of Consortium pawns and antagonistic spirits were a possibility she was unwilling to overlook. Clara clung to one of Hardy's sleeves. They were switching off who was looking out in which direction, leaving Isaac to keep his eyes straight ahead. More of a challenge than it may seem, with the cabin's darkness spanning well past Rose and Crawford. He tried to keep in pace with them, but his legs were shaking and he wasn't sure if it was because he was three different kinds of dead the last time he was here, or if the draft of the run-down walls was getting to him.

Clara edged closer to Isaac, willing herself to feel calmer with somebody on either side of her. "There's so much blood, everywhere…" Her breath hitched and trembled with every word, hot breath running down his neck. Miss Rose looked back and found his eyes. He frowned and glanced away. They made it to the end of the hallway, what Isaac remembered as the bedroom he'd taken residence of that night. He was right; Rose raised the compass and the light of her aura illuminated the very edge of the bedpost, rotting and covered in, what Isaac assumed was probably, more of his dried-up blood.

Hardy's foot made contact with something at his feet, and he leaned forward to pick it up. "Oh hey, a diary!" He said one second. "Ah!" He said the next.

Clara glanced over Hardy's shoulder to see the page he'd opened up to by chance, and stifled the scream she instinctually reacted with behind her interwoven fingers. The page was yellow with age and slick with dust from infrequent use, though it had clearly been handled somewhat recently, the way fingerprints edged the pages. The page Hardy had opened up to, the one Isaac now glanced over Clara's shoulder to see, was covered in nothing but pen- and a lot of it. Frantic. Some unlegible. Dark and as black as a widow drenched in the blackest of inks. Words scribbled next to sketches of spirits, of auras and eyes that seemed to watch from behind the safety of the page.

Why can't he see them

I'm not crazy

Help

Hardy screamed and accidentally tossed the book a foot in the air, only to start juggling it with unsteady hands the moment it came back down, whimpering the whole time. Isaac snorted and held out his hand so Hardy could pass it to him- and he did, by using one juggling hand to smack the book mid-air in Isaac's general direction. Isaac caught the diary by the spine in his open palm, flipping it back open with relative ease. "This is her's?"

Just as soon as he opened it, a gloved hand snatched it from him. Miss Rose grinned and raised to compass to the diary, humming at the confirming buzz of her tool. "This is the next piece in Catriona's puzzle, kiddies!"

Kid after kid lined up in parallel with the bullseyes across the gymnasium floor, each new frontrunner as confused as the last. Guerra and Spender stood to the side, eyeing individual auras as they hit or missed the targets- and they rarely hit. Guerra was grimacing, looking every bit terrifying as Spender felt. He kept switching from watching the students to watching his master, frequent enough to keep an eye on his reactions, but not frequent enough for Guerra (hopefully) to notice.

Max was third in one of the first lines. All the better, in his opinion, for getting this over with as fast as possible. He aimed at the target a few feet away, concentrated. He'd had so much on his mind lately. Isabel, Spender, Ed…. His eyes narrowed as blue crossed his vague vision- the kid next to him, but it was enough. He took one quick breath and took his shot. Black gas, perfectly rounded, perfectly paced, hit the bullseye head-on, nearly knocking it over in a clash of red and white against a crawling web of black that descended over it.

Spender's eyes widened, a small smile inching across his face. He'd been worried that all of the attention he'd had to put into training these classes had denied his original students somehow of the attention he felt was vital to truly learning to hone their new powers, but if Max's spectral shot was any indication-!

"Don't get so excited." Guerra was watching the children still, but Spender could feel the disappointment in him radiating from his drilled eyes. He pretended not to notice. "Spectral shots are child's play. That your student is capable of such a feat places him on par with Isabel at five years of age."

The next group of students stepped up. Max met Collin's eyes on his way back to the bleachers.

Collin looked panicked, gesturing to the targets, then gesturing back to the hands Max was well aware would be unable to conjure up any aura at all, let alone get a spectral shot off. Max winced and shrugged at him. Can't help ya there, man.

Collin got up to the bat and mimed for dear life, found other kids doing the same thing. Each pointed and breathed and stood there waiting for auras that never built and shots that never burned through the distance. They turned to each other, confused, some agitated, some lackadaisical about the whole thing.

Guerra turned to Spender with a glare in his eye, and all he could do was smile nervously and swallow the fear gnawing at his throat like acid.

Nature walks were run-of-the-mill for Master Hashimoto's dojo. Ed never quite got the importance of them, and when he asked for clarification the answer was always "something-something peace" or "something-something tranquility".

Aka, "Something-something Ed isn't interested."

But alas, they were required. Every student in the dojo would wake up at roughly 5am, clothe themselves, then walk a mile-long hike through the woods before they could all return home to feast upon the breakfast Hashimoto no doubt would have laid out for them when they got back. As beautiful as the scenery was this time of year, Ed was far more interested in getting back so he could settle the uncomfortable tugging and gurgling of his stomach.

The start of the day was always the hardest. He knew this. And like always, he'd get through it. That didn't mean he felt like trekking up a mountain of flowers today, though.

He sighed and carried onward, barley giving the beautiful red roses he passed a sidelong glance. Well, he almost didn't. The vibrant red caught his eye, and he fell a few steps behind admiring the way the morning dew dripped from the soft petals.

Red was supposed to be the color of aggression, of hunger and anger and danger, but it was also adventure, passion…

Love.

A laugh he knew better than his own crossed his mind's ear, and he almost hated the way he instantly drew the connections to tan skin and red, so much red. Ed shook his head clear and turned away, transitioning into a light jog to catch up to the rest of his peers. This was crazy, he was being crazy. What that girl said meant nothing. What Dimitri said meant nothing, just people being people and misunderstanding his relationship with Isabel. They were like siblings! She was his best friend! He shook his head clear with finality.

He caught up with the rest of the group with ease, not that it was difficult. It seemed like he was the only one eager to get back to food, because his peers had taken a decidedly slower pace. He'd lightly jogged like an old man who'd just watched his small weiner dog steal his slipper, and still, he'd managed to catch up in about thirty seconds. Ed huffed, shoulders slumping in the way that usually got him a fist upside the head from Guerra and a small scolding from Spender.

"Guys, look! He's letting me feed him!"

One of the other students had paused to bend down a few feet in front of him. A quick side-step confirmed that she'd palmed a nut from the ground, and that a small squirrel had taken interest in it. A few other students coo'ed and some bemoaned not having their phone to take a picture. Ed felt himself smiling despite his grouchy mood. The squirrel was, after all, pushing the boundaries of cute. Big beady eyes, tail twitching, head tilting as it tried to communicate with his fellow student in a language it didn't know she didn't understand. Part of his heart, which he found had somewhat frozen over the last few weeks, melted on the spot. She opened up her palm, and the squirrel readily sprinted for it, pausing on her fingers to test the nut and see that it was real. Chestnut brown fur, spots of darker hair that looked black in the early morning sunrise-

-- brown eyes under long lashes, squinting with mirth as he made her laugh, his favorite sound in this world and the next.

Ed froze mid-thought, eyes widening so much he thought they would fall out of the sockets. He'd done it again, the same thing he'd been doing the past- how long had it been? Too long! Too long for this to still be a problem! Ed took several deep breaths, one hand pressed to his chest as he hyper-ventilated, or something close to it. He was just tired, that's all. He was busy a lot of the day training to become a man worthy...of… his mind trailed off again, and Ed felt his hands tearing his hair straight off of his head before he even registered the deep-seeded hand that felt like it was tugging twenty different chords of his heart.

I do not like Isabel! I do not like Isabel! I do not like Isabel!

"Get out of my head!"

There was a silence around him, and he couldn't help but think that it was a little odd, considering all the cute-animal-fawning that'd been happening a few seconds ago. He opened his eyes, which had been screwed shut in his agony, to find his entire class staring at him. Even the squirrel, which had been so content with its nut before, had turned its curious eyes on him as if waiting for an explanation. Ed blinked. "I yearn for the sweet embracing heat of my gaming console."

His peers seemed to shrug it off, nod, mumble "yeah, yeah that sounds about right".

#Paranatural #Isaac O'Connor #Isabel Guerra #Maxwell Puckett #Edward Burger #Richard Spender #Pnat #Edsabel #Maxaac #Imaax #Hardy Deering #Clara Appleby #Miss Rose #Crawford #The Monster Trilogy #WOHT

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fallenrazziel · 6 years ago

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Les Chroniques de Livaï #374 ~ CHAQUE VIE FAIT SON DESTIN (août 845) Mike Zacharias

L'histoire de Livaï comme vous ne l'avez jamais lue. Le personnage le plus populaire de L'Attaque des Titans, le soldat le plus fort de l'humanité… Qui est-il vraiment ? Qu'a-t-il dans le coeur ? Qu'est-ce qui a fait de lui ce qu'il est ? Je me suis mise en devoir de répondre à ces questions en vous livrant ma propre vision de sa vie, de ses pensées, des épreuves qu'il a traversées, ainsi que celles des personnes qui l'ont côtoyé, aimé, admiré, craint, détesté. Si j'essaie le plus possible de respecter le canon, quelques libertés seront prises sur les aspects de sa vie les plus flous. Quelques personnages seront également de mon invention. Livaï, un homme que l'on croit invincible et inatteignable… Est-ce bien sûr ? Jugez-en par vous-mêmes.

Mes nouvelles fonctions me plaisent bien. Créer une équipe à mon image, dotée de qualités équilibrées, cela risque de me prendre du temps mais Erwin ne m'a pas pressé. Je revois encore la tête de Livaï quand il nous a nommés chefs d'escouade ! Il n'a pas encore formellement accepté à ce qu'il semble, il y a donc une chance pour que j'hérite de l'escouade d'élite. Je dois garder ça en tête en observant les recrues potentielles.

Je pourrais piocher chez les vétérans, mais ceux qui m'intéressent ne sont pas disponibles. Il y a les jeunes, bien sûr. Servir sous mes ordres leur apprendrait la vraie discipline. Je les scrute depuis la réunion dans le bureau d'Erwin, en essayant de déceler avec mon nez lequel d'entre eux a une faculté cachée. A part Emmerich, aucun ne sort vraiment du lot, c'est bien dommage.

J'ai décidé d'assister à un exercice de vol avec les mannequins aujourd'hui, et de donner des notes. C'est la meilleure façon de trouver l'élite. Je ne connais pas encore les nouveaux, et je ne veux pas les laisser à Livaï s'il y a des prodiges. Je vais avoir du mal à tous les voir à l'oeuvre, à moins d'y rester toute la journée. Livaï a le don pour se retrouver partout à la fois ; on peut tomber sur lui en train de nettoyer les dortoirs, le bureau d'Erwin, ou ronchonnant sur le terrain d'entraînement devant les faiblesses des cadets en les notant impitoyablement. Je dois le prendre de vitesse et mettre la main sur les perles avant lui.

Je me dirige à cheval vers les bois où patientent les instructeurs du jour. Les élèves ne vont pas tarder. J'aperçois Gelgar et Nanaba, en attente, leurs cahiers à la main, le soleil dans le dos. Ils sont assis sur une grosse souche et discutent de façon animée. Nanaba donne une claque dans le dos de son chef d'escouade - Gelgar n'est pas du genre à la réprimander - et ils se mettent à rigoler tous les deux. J'aime leur compagnie. Ils savent quand il faut être sérieux et quand on peut plaisanter. Même si Gelgar a la main toujours un peu lourde sur la bouteille, même en service... Il faudrait qu'Erwin lui serre un peu la vis là-dessus.

Je les salue de la main et ils me répondent. Je ne les ai pas vus depuis un moment et leurs odeurs familières me parviennent avant leurs voix. Celle, fruitée et acidulée de Nanaba, et celle, capiteuse, de Gelgar. Ce sont des parfums francs, simples, qui reflètent leurs personnalités agréables. Eh bien, vous aussi, vous allez noter aujourd'hui ? Dites-moi un peu, vous avez repéré des choses intéressantes chez les recrues ?

Gelgar me demande pourquoi ça m'intéresse, et je me redresse, très fier de moi. Figure-toi qu'Erwin m'a nommé chef d'escouade il y a deux jours. Alors je fais mon marché. Il me faut les meilleurs des meilleurs, pour une équipe de choc, tu vois le genre ? Nanaba frappe dans ses mains pour me féliciter et Gelgar me regarde avec des yeux ronds. Eh, tu ne m'en crois pas capable ?

Il rétorque qu'il m'en croit tellement capable qu'il envie ceux que je vais choisir. Ne te fais pas d'idée, ce ne sera pas la rigolade tous les jours, loin de là. Cette escouade sera soumise aux missions les plus dangereuses et les plus importantes, c'est très sérieux. Je dois donner mon maximum et ceux qui me suivront aussi. Gelgar rétorque que ça lui ferait pas peur du tout. Ah oui ? Tu serais capable d'arrêter de boire pendant plusieurs jours d'affilée ? Il prend un air penaud et souffle bruyamment. Nanaba répond à sa place qu'il en serait capable, il faut juste qu'il se bouge un peu.

Au fait, Gelgar, tu dois toi aussi reformer ton équipe, tu as eu des pertes lors de la dernière sortie. Il hoche la tête mais ne se sent pas décidé à s'y mettre. Tu devrais t'y coller où tu n'auras que les restes. Car Livaï est aussi sur les rangs ! Oui, Livaï et moi avons été promus ensemble et celui qui formera en premier la meilleure escouade aura le premier rôle ! Enfin, Erwin ne l'a pas formulé comme ça, mais admettons...

Gelgar serre les poings et saute de la souche pour se planter face à moi. Il me dit que ça l'emmerde d'être chef d'escouade, qu'il en a pas la carrure ni la discipline. Que moi, en revanche, j'ai la tête de l'emploi et que rien ne le botterai plus que de servir sous mes ordres. Tu es sérieux ou tu as encore bu ? Son haleine ne sent pas l'alcool, il a l'air sobre. Nanaba approuve en disant que la paperasse n'a jamais été son fort et que c'était toujours elle qui devait s'en charger, quand elle n'allait pas le chercher ivre mort dans une taverne du coin.

Mmh, attends un peu, tu veux dire que tu démissionnes ? Non, qu'il répond, il veut être rétrogradé. Redevenir un simple soldat aux ordres d'un autre, c'est dans ses cordes. Et puis il boirai sans doute moins si son chef lui tirait les oreilles de temps en temps. Tu as besoin d'être encadré, c'est ce que tu veux me dire ? Je vois... Et le salaire ? Tu seras moins bien payé si tu quittes ton poste. Il ne semble pas s'en soucier et hausse les épaules.

Si j'ai bien compris, tu veux redevenir un simple soldat et entrer dans mon escouade ? Ils hochent la tête tous les deux. Nanaba ?... Elle affirme que si Gelgar prend cette décision, son équipe sera de toute façon dissoute, et que rien ne lui plairait plus que de faire partie de mon escouade. Ils me saluent, la main sur le coeur, et une onde de fierté traverse ma grande carcasse.

Je n'en reviens pas. Je cherchais encore ce matin, et cet après-midi, j'ai déjà deux recrues de choix !

Tandis que je tente d'assimiler tout ça, les élèves s'avancent derrière nous. Nous devons les mettre en position et leur faire vérifier leur harnachement avant le décollage. Gelgar et Nanaba restent collés à moi en me couvant des yeux, et je lis dans leurs regards qu'ils iraient en enfer avec moi sans hésiter. Ca fait chaud au coeur. Je ne pouvais pas imaginer deux subordonnés meilleurs que ces deux-là. Ils sont l'élite. Je devrais juste discipliner un peu Gelgar et il sera au top.

Et bien, je dois en parler à Erwin. Si c'est d'accord, il me restera juste deux autres recrues à dénicher. Mais vous deux, au moins, Livaï ne vous aura pas !

Un doigt impatient tapote mon épaule, et je me retourne pour me retrouver nez à nez avec Claus Emmerich, haussé sur la pointe des pieds, qui m'informe que les vérifications sont faites. On va pouvoir y aller alors. Mets les en position, puisque tu es si investi. J'en profite pour lui glisser au creux de l'oreille si ça l'intéresserait de faire partie de ma nouvelle escouade. Il sursaute presque comme si je l'avais brûlé, se frotte l'oreille énergiquement et s'éloigne à grands pas, rouge jusqu'au front.

Ben quoi, qu'est-ce que j'ai dit ? Il est vraiment timide quand il s'y met, celui-là !

#lc374 #mike zacharias #levi chronicles #les chroniques de livaï #fanfiction #fallenRaziel #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

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