#antonin;2

[r-lestrcnge]

Open Starter: please, starting with 1x character per RPer! (feel free to DM if you'd like more!) Where: the Malfoy/Black wedding When: flexible

As a child, Rabastan had loathed weddings. They were far too noisy, too crowded, and pointless. Times had changed - at least to a certain extent. He didn't mind them so much, these days. He recognised the importance of the ceremonies; the joining of two families, committed to each other for the benefit of their futures. But most of all, they were generally decent affairs, with worthy company and excellent surroundings. The best families did so enjoy trying to outshine one another. He'd expected nothing less from the Malfoys and the Blacks, and they had not disappointed. It was simply a pity that they had chosen to marry in the middle of a war. Some might think it unwise or indecorous; Rabastan merely thought it inconvenient. He could have been elsewhere, doing something more valuable for the cause. But he was happy for the couple - his friends - and he committed himself to making sure their day proceeded smoothly.

Presently, he'd taken residence beside the alcohol, where he'd helped himself to a glass of champagne. Since no one required him, he was content to linger quietly alone, though he scanned the surroundings and observed the other guests as they milled around.

[rottenbones0]

[She bites God in the wrist] - stage direction from Antonin Artaud's The Jet of Blood

Image: The Conjuring 2 (2016)

[sbnkalny]

Antonin Scalia claimed to be pro-life and DIED ! twas a fun pet game with Added reality you treat me like a Dog get me down on the streets of a town in every downtown drinking friends who've drunk in bars whose drunken friends in drinking bars, waiting for the bus in the Rain in the rain

[ingolds]

@vilestblood. — sender kisses receiver’s knuckles.

     since their initial meeting in the great white north, a crop of dark trees observing them silently and snow crunching underfoot, theo had tried to spend some time getting to know antonin. they’ve learned that vampires are a secretive sort, playing their cards close to their chests, as if information was meant to be shared only among them or taken with them beyond their undeath. theo doesn’t blame them for that, werewolves similarly tight-lipped, moreso with vampires than anyone else. they’re grateful for the information they are given, whether it’s about antonin personally or his species as a whole, and it’s painting a picture for them that they’ve enjoyed tracing back over when they separate again. as it happens, they’ve learned more about antonin than about vampires, but that doesn’t bother them; why look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say? pleasant company is hard to find, supernatural pleasant company harder still.

     they figure they know enough about him not to be surprised by anything he does. how wrong they are.

     when they spot him already seated beside the fountain, they lift their hand in a wave. they’d chosen a park at dusk, the sun already set, violet and pale pink stretching languidly across the sky. it’s a nice scene for a conversation – clear, bubbling water, an array of colors over the treetops, people beginning to filter out of the network of trails as the hour ticked closer to stars twinkling bright above them. they’re a little thrown to see antonin’s beaten them there, theo arriving close to half an hour early, but they take it in stride – as they do most other things.

          most.

     the greeting dies on their lips as antonin sinks down to one knee, cradling theo’s hand gently in his own. they feel a beat of AMUSED, alongside a much stronger, much warmer, pulse of SMUG. antonin’s mouth brushes over their knuckles, not quite cold on the scars mapped over the back of their hand, and theo’s brows crawl up towards their hairline. pale eyes meet theirs, antonin smiling from beneath his lashes, and he releases theo’s hand, straightens up like it had never happened. for a simple greeting, it’s a lot. for an introduction exchanged between friends, it’s a lot, and theo still feels the imprint of his mouth on their skin, like ice so cold it burns. they’re aware that that’s impossible, but they can’t shake the sensation completely. they think their fingertips might be tingling.

     i thought i was the charming one, they say a little dumbly, and antonin’s chuckle is warm, airy, like ringing bells. shall we? he says, stretching an arm out towards where he’d been sitting at the lip of the fountain, and theo, too shocked to parse through any of the million thoughts racing through their head, simply nods.

varying kiss prompts / accepting

[meret118]

In a landmark case, the U.S. Supreme Court has ruled that the so-called Chevron doctrine would be overturned.

It is a 40-year standard that the conservative court eliminated with a 6-2 decision, in which Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson recused herself.

Lower courts have relied on this doctrine over 18,000 times to determine environmental regulations that stopped multinational corporations from polluting. The High Court has deferred to the doctrine 70 times, agreeing that they should defer to a government agency’s reasonable interpretation of an ambiguous statute

The decision seriously limits the power of the executive branch and gives it to the courts.

. . .

Speaking to MSNBC after the ruling, former solicitor general Neal Katyal noted that it's a little-known case to everyday Americans, but “this is going to change government as we know it."

"It is impossible to overstate how damaging to governance--and to protections for air, water, food and drug safety, worker rights & so much more--the SCOTUS' overturning of (Justice Antonin Scalia's) Chevron Doctrine is.

[wht-am-i-doin]

Driver's Ranked by Year

Ok, this is going to be a long one because I don't want to spam, so everybody buckle up

Disclaimer: This is not my personal ranking of the ships, this is purely based on how I view the historical event that takes place in the year that the numbers make up. I will happily further explain any of the events, my analysis of the events with the ship, and why I ranked them that way if anybody is interested. I tried to get a variety, but I am better with western history so there is more of skew towards western history. I have used both CE and BCE years to create more variety. As with everything with RPF, I do not believe any of these drivers are together and this is all in good fun, if you don't want to view it as ships view them as teammates! All images are pulled from google.

okie dokie here we go, Hope you enjoy!!

*means that it is in the area of that time period and do not have exact date or may occur over multiple years

1. Maxiel - 31 BCE

Jesus was crucified in 31 BCE

2. Simi - 75 BCE

Julius Caesar was kidnapped by pirates and demanded a higher ransom in order to be saved

3. Lestappen - 1633 CE

Galileo was convicted of Heresy for saying the earth goes around the sun

4. Brocedes - 644 CE

Zenkoji temple is built by Empress Kogyoku

5. Zhou + Mick - *4724 BCE

Earliest form of photo-writing in history

6. Yukierre - ~2210 BCE

Hale Bopp comet is seen and won't be seen again until 1997 CE, about 4,000 years later

7. Landoscar - ~814 BCE

Homer was born

8. Fernando + Esteban - 1431 CE

Joan of Arc is burned at the stake

9. Zhou + Valtteri - ~7724 BCE

Tollmann's hypothetical bolide which led to global cataclysm, i.e. the great flood

10. Loscar - ~812 BCE

Olmecs began to build their pyramids, earliest pyramids from mesoamerica

11. Lewis + Charles - 1644 CE

one of eight years to contain each roman numeral once- MDCLXIV

12. Oscar + Zhou - ~2481 BCE

Construction of Stonehenge

13. Esteban + Pierre - ~3110 BCE

Narmer reigns and unifies Egypt for the first time

14. Carlos + Max - 551 BCE

Confucius was born

15. Sewis - 544 BCE

Sun Tzu, author of The Art of War, was born

16. Esteban + Lance - 1831 CE

Victor Hugo publishes the Hunchback of Notre Dame in Paris

17. George + Lewis - ~6344 BCE

Great Britain and Ireland separated from the main land and became Islands

18. Oscar + Max - 181 CE

Lake Taupo Volcano erupts in New Zealand and is seen in both China and Rome

19. Max + Lewis - 441 BCE

Sophocles writes Antigone, one of the first greek tragedies

20. Lewis + Valtteri - ~7744 BCE

Agriculture starts to develop in the Americas

21. Fernando + Lance - 1814 CE

The Great Stock exchange fraud is exposed in London

22. Logan + Alex - 232 BCE

Gaius Flaminius distributes land to Plebians after the Punic Wars in the North

23. Lando + Daniel - 43 CE

Roman conquest of Britain

24. Lando + Max - 41 BCE

Mark Antony meets Cleopatra VII

25. Charles + Pierre - 1610 CE

Tragedy of Macbeth's first performance

26. Nico + Kevin - ~2027 BCE

The Epic of Gilgamesh is written

27. Galex - ~2363 BCE

Hekla 4 eruption with a VEI 5, explosive eruptions, but nobody was hurt

28. Charles + Lando - 164 BCE

Halley's Comet makes its appearance, occurs once every 75 years

29. Checo + Max - 111 BCE

Spartacus was born

30. George + Lando - 634 CE

The Siege of Damascus

31. Carlando - 455 CE

King Generic sacks Rome

32. Charles + Carlos - 1655 CE

Saturn's largest moon, Titan, is discovered

33. Charles + Sebastian - 165 CE

Antonine plague decimated the Roman Empire and China

[lesorciercanadien]

Folk Ways for an Acadian or French Canadian folk practitioner

I want to start an ongoing list of Acadian and French Canadian religious and popular folk ways that I've been learning about for the last two years. My references will be at the end for further reading!

Blessing a candle on Candlemas (Feb. 2) with holy water will allow you to have a light whenever there is sickness and storms hitting your home. Traditionally on Candlemas, the light is lit and guided through every room in the house to bless all its corners for the year. It was even paraded in the farmer's fields. (Dupont)

The 25th April, on St. Mark's Day, is the ideal day to bless your fields or garden before putting in the first seeds. This ensures the growing food to be blessed by this saint. (Maillet)

Animals have been known to speak in human tongues on Christmas Eve. (Maillet)

If you feel that nothing is going right in your day, your homemade bread sours, or general bad luck assails you, simply boil some holy medals. (Dupont)

The first three days of the month of August, the ocean waters are known to have healing properties, and it wouldn't hurt to dip your feet in it. (Chiasson)

It was customary to trace crosses on windows using holy water when a storm would hit. (Lacroix)

To find a lost object, simply toss a rosary or a pocket metal rosary over your shoulder. The foot of the cross will point in the direction where your lost object might be located. (Dupont)

To have good weather on your wedding day, be sure to hang your rosary on your clothes line the day before. (Dupont)

Maillet, Antonine. Rabelais et les traditions populaires en Acadie. Les presses de l'université laval, quebec. 1980.

Lacroix, Benoit. Folklore de la mer et religion. Editions Leméac, 1980.

Dupont, Jean-Claude. Héritage d'Acadie. Collection Connaissance, editions Leméac, 1977.

Chiasson, Père Anselme. Chéticamp: histoire et traditions acadiennes. Editions des Aboiteaux, 1972.

[murmiss]

Insane and brain-dead.

pairing-Simon 'Ghost' Riley/You. Very little John 'Soap' MacTavish/You

Chapter WARNING- Description of blood, cruelty, tin.swearing, partial description of decomposition, mention of suicide. My vision of the characters

Summary - 'There is no love'-that's what Simon thinks. BUT what if two traumatized and mentally wounded people meet in a hellish apocalypse and find solace in each other?Hundred what if what happens to them connects them?.

(the end will be good)

This is the first, introductory chapter.

Part one.

It is no secret that viruses and bacteria mutate at an amazing rate, either changing their genetic code and causing mutations, or changing so much that there is already a problem of a new strain. Today, viral mutation is a common phenomenon that does not scare people in the least. Many people do not even think that someday this microorganism can cause harm, ignoring all those stories of fatalities, great and terrible epidemics that have happened to mankind, naively believing that if it happened a thousand years ago, it certainly will not affect you.

How many people know about the Antonine Plague? Although, by the way, it was the most horrifying epidemic in history, which killed more than 5 million people, and according to records, killed 2 thousand Romans a day.And the bubonic plague? It's frightening when you think of the descriptions in books: fever, nausea, hallucinations, pus-filled buboes, death, and people in bird masks. So what? That's right, nothing. Remember when the coronavirus wasn't taken seriously? A lot of people thought it wouldn't reach the regions, states and cities, but it did.

Just like this time, no one took it seriously when dozens of reports were projected from a small town about a sudden outbreak of "rabies", forcing the sick to die in hellish agony within minutes, and then rising up like stereotypical zombies to bite everyone they came across, succumbing to the virus' natural call to multiply.

Really, who'd believe it? And for nothing. After the first newscasts, a wave of memes and jokes started among the schoolchildren, while the adults, lost in the cycle of work, family, and household chores, paid no attention as the small town of Corrins struggled to cope with the sudden and unknown threat. The town government was going crazy-people were refusing to work, refusing to go outside, and even the patrolmen were going on strike. But the infected were unstoppable. Even a hundred people were already tangible, and where there were a hundred, there were a thousand people, and where there were a thousand, there were two.The city was slowly dying until no one took it seriously. Why didn't anyone move out? The answer was simply that they couldn't. Corrins was quarantined, a total lockdown, no entry or exit. When did that ever work? There's not even a movie where a flimsy gate and guards stopped a horde of infected.

The infected huddled together, roaming the streets like mindless, attacking anyone they could catch.

The virus was spreading as fast as anyone could have imagined, and seemingly in ways never before recorded in history. In just a week, the city of Corrins had fallen into oblivion, along with three other towns in the vicinity, followed by the entire region.

Dim light shone through the thick navy-colored curtains, softly illuminating the room. Simon Riley, a former British mercenary who had just awakened from another night of nightmares, sat in the kitchen chair, leaning back casually, foot on foot and hand under his head, staring into the void. For the third time he was dreaming episodes from his past. Dreams about his goat father no longer frightened him, no longer made him nervous like the dreams about the team that Simon had grown accustomed to during his ten years on the job. Now, after the severe injuries, the difficult and sometimes deadly missions, the adrenaline that bubbled in his blood day and night, life in retirement seemed like hell. For the first few days he, like his guys, was in a depressed mood, not understanding why they were forced to retire so early, but none of the superiors explained anything, giving a completely stupid answer that was the same for everyone: "We changed priorities". That day was hard for everyone. but, nevertheless, the guys did not forget each other. Living in the same city, they often gathered in the bar "Ricky and Mickey", discussed personal matters, tried to rebuild their lives on a new way. And for Riley, worrying about what to cook, trying to build relationships, job hunting, and constantly changing activities were hated, so his thoughts often returned to the days when he and John and the guys worked together. When adrenaline was bubbling in his blood and his brain was working on emergency decisions and tactics. Being on the rope gave life an unrealistic drive, helping him forget the horrors of his childhood. Sometimes, however, he was afraid - those were the rare occasions when things didn't go according to plan and his companions could get hurt. Simon wasn't afraid for himself, he wasn't afraid of bleeding out on the battlefield, getting shot, or even losing a leg or an arm, but the image of a bleeding comrade made him shudder inwardly, still vivid in his mind's eye: He'd been shot in the head-unfortunate and nearly fatal, if it hadn't been for the plate in his skull-the miracle that had saved Johnny from certain death in this cold and filthy place.

That day Simon Riley almost died for the third time. The first time Riley had experienced such deep emotions was in his childhood, when his father, an alcoholic and deeply addicted to drugs, had mocked him. The image of his father with a viper in his hand and the devil-like image of his older brother would haunt Simon's dreams and visions for a long time. The second time it was the image of his mother. The fragile woman who was pulling the whole family on her own back, tolerating her abuser of a husband day after day, humbly going to hard work, trying to earn at least some pennies, couldn't stand it and put a bullet in her temple. She lay on the old and creaky couch for almost twenty-four hours before her husband paid attention. Simon remembers like yesterday her small, thin body lying stiff and stiff on the couch, with a humble face like a painting of The Death of the Virgin Mary by the artist Caravaggio. She was dressed in her pale pink robe, and her thin hand rested on her breast. Mrs. Riley tried her best to hold on for little Simon's sake, but she could not endure her eldest son's abuse and her husband's hatred, killing herself and finally achieving the peace and quiet she so desired. Little Simon sat with her all day, trying his best to wake the lying woman, covering her face with a damp cloth, gently stroking her icy hands. He was only six years old then, when he stood over the pit where the old wooden coffin containing the body of his beloved mother lay.

And then, when Johnny had been injured, Simon felt again like he did then at six years old, next to his mother. He, lost in emotion, grabbed Johnny's head, his hands trying to cover the bullet wound, roughly grasping like a child trying to help as best he could. The ghost doesn't remember Price dragging him away from Johnny's unconscious body, giving room for the paramedics to arrive.

John 'Soap' MacTavish was taken to the medical unit and underwent emergency surgery, Sitting in the dark and empty corridor, Ghost was out of breath as Gaz and Price tried to support him. "John's a tough guy, he'll get over it." And the this jerk turned out to be fucking resilient. And lucky too.

After that the band didn't last long-quite a couple months later they were dismissed, without reason or much explanation, taking them out of their positions. Of course no one expected it, but what was to be done?

Simon picked up his phone, checking messages, secretly hoping for another invitation to a bar, just to avoid the domestic routine, but instead of the pleasant words "let's go for a cognac," he came across a sweet and sweet message from Amanda, the girl Ghost had tried to meet at his leisure, when Soap was once again blowing his mind about the need for a relationship.Amanda was undeniably beautiful-blonde curls, blue eyes, and charmingly pouty lips, but the problem was that as soon as she opened her mouth, everyone wanted to shut her up. Amanda Hess was a meticulous Shopping Fanatic, and "miss fucking amazing ideas." In places, undoubtedly, the idea of going to fuck in the park at one o'clock in the morning excited Simon, but frankly, he lacked enthusiasm, and for the fifth time, hearing an unusual idea, his eyes involuntarily rolled with stupidity.

Simon and Amanda had been talking for about three months now, and he didn't know if he liked her or if he liked her ass, or if he even needed these dates.

"Honey, can you pick me up at eight pm?" -said the message, and attached to it was a nude photo of a girl sitting on the edge of a bed with her feet up and taking a picture of herself through a mirror, wearing only black lace lingerie. Beautiful, but unimpressive. When you see the same tits and hear the same things, you get used to it and the panties photo is no longer arousing. Inwardly Simon wished for soulfulness and some kind of domestic affection, maybe a cozy lady dressed in his huge warm sweater and striped socks, making hot chocolate.

"I'm busy," Simon answered rudely but habitually, but no sooner had he sent a message back than someone slammed the front door, forcing him to look up and away from the phone.

"Fuck," Soap said, panting and trying to catch his breath, leaning his hands on the walls. His eyes darted around the room, searching for the scowling lieutenant and finally seeing his comrade, Johnny rushed over to him, speaking quickly and nervously. "Hey L.T., did you see what the fuck is going on? We're fucked, we're fucked up a bloody fucking ass that can't be compared to Makarov's ugly face."

Simon grinned wryly as he listened to MacTavish and sat just as casually in the kitchen chair, watching Mr. Mohawk walk around his kitchen, looking for the TV remote and finally finding it, turning it on as he continued to mutter-"Fucking lunatics flooding the streets! I thought I'd never bloody get to you-the police are shutting down the city, ambulances everywhere!"

And as John spoke, Simon lowered his gaze to the phone again, wistfully noting that Amanda's message was from yesterday and apparently he hadn't noticed it. Soap snatched the phone out of Simon's hands, carelessly tucking it away on the table, speaking seriously, frowning his bushy eyebrows. "Buddy, can you hear me? I'm dead serious right now."

"You can't be serious about piles of zombies roaming the street," Riley replied, looking up at his friend again. Behind him, while no one was paying attention, the coffee was frothing, running off and dirtying the stove, leaving a bitter burnt odor that Simon sensed and immediately moved the coffee pot. "Bloody hell, John."

"Leave your fucking coffee, this isn't a joke, Lieutenant," John shrieked, finally turning his attention back to Simon.

On TV, a slender girl in a business suit with a serious face and a monotonous voice was giving an interview; in the background, behind her were several police cars, ambulances, and even a SWAT team flashed in the frame. Somewhere very far away there were shouts of people, special forces, passing information to each other. The girl's voice was steady and didn't even shake as she broadcast almost robot-like.

"Today, around six o'clock this morning, a group of unknown assailants attacked the locals. It's probably an outbreak of rabies. The patients have pale skin, cloudy eyes with red spots and gritted teeth, some cases of hemoptysis, poor coordination and slurred speech. If you find such symptoms in yourself or your relatives, call the number 'xxx-xx-xx-xxx'. We urge all citizens to stay in their homes until the next announcement. You are also reminded to lock your windows and doors and do not let anyone suspicious in."

"You heard her, it's just an outbreak of rage," Simon waved his hand nonchalantly, to which John, eyes wide, shouted again, trying to reason with his colleague.

"You don't fucking understand." -MacTavish clutched the remote tighter, rewinding the videotape of the interview to the very end.

"I don't understand what?" -Ghost raised his eyebrows skeevily.

"She's dead"-John said sharply, including the very end of the video, where a man in an ambulance corpsman's uniform comes at the journalist from behind. He sinks his teeth into her neck, biting off a large chunk almost immediately, his bloody hands grasping her shoulders as the girl screams frantically. Simon's eyes slowly open as his brain's mechanisms process the information. It's as if he believes it, but the other half of him screams "It's all a lie, a joke. April 1." Unconsciously he looks at his phone, checking the date and realizing to his horror that the first of April is long gone and it was June. The information and realization pressed on his brain, causing goosebumps to crawl across his skin. A slight fear bubbled in his stomach as he watched Soap's actions as if mesmerized. John frantically opened every drawer in the kitchen, looking for any canned goods and bars.

"Shit, LT, what are you eating? Don't you have any?!" exclaimed Soap, panic-rushing through the rooms while Simon came to his senses.

"Bottom drawer on the right"-as Riley answered mesmerized. John, opening the cabinet and seeing five cans of canned chicken and pork, exhaled, immediately pulling them out and placing them on the table.

"Don't delay, Ghost, get the damn things together. I was able to get a hold of Price, he and Gaz will be waiting for us on the outskirts of town at the cottage plots. Price is trying to contact Laswell and the department." Soap rummaged through the drawers, pulling out matches, knives, and anything else he thought might come in handy. Recovering and hearing shouts outside the door, Simon jumped up and immediately began grabbing his belongings and dumping them at speed into his hiking backpack. The screams were getting closer and it seemed like the entire apartment building was shaking with people running, panicking and screaming. Simon's apartment was right in the middle of the building, on the fifth floor, and it was damned inconvenient.

At last, Ghost jerked the curtains aside carelessly, peering out the window and watching in horror at the sheer chaos. He had never seen anything like this even in the army. From the neighboring apartment building, people were falling from the balconies, one was already infected, and the other, Simon's acquaintance, Edgar, a man with three loans and perpetually bawdy jokes, had thrown himself out of the window, not wanting to fight, nor to be infected and converted. Unwittingly, Simon remembered how they'd sat at the bar and the jerk with the black, curly beard would see any girl off with a meow, stretching out his catchphrase, "Your pussy's in danger next to me." Then, for Riley, it was a show, at the end of which Edgar was guaranteed to get slapped by some extravagant girl.Now he was dead. In the sky we could see helicopters crashing one after another, one of them crashing right into the house, partially destroying the building. The wreckage flies down where the crowds are, and at first glance it's hard to see what the crush is all about: screams and heartbreaking cries from everywhere, and the special forces are trying to get everyone out of the way, but they, too, the men in uniform and ammunition, suffer the same fate as the civilians - to be bitten. Suddenly Simon is yanked away from the window. Jonny, hearing something going on outside the apartment, realizes it's time to run. - "Damn! We're all going to die in here!"

The ghost followed Soap, and as the other opened the door, the growling grew louder. At the end of the corridor was a small flock of zombies - apparently residents of neighboring apartments that were infected.Without thinking long, the Comrades rushed to the stairs-an escape route. Suddenly, the door swings open in their faces and an older woman falls out into the hallway with a loud hiss. John reflexively shoves the old woman away from him, and Ghost reflexively hits her with the bat he'd brought just in case. "Oh bloody hell, I'm sorry Mrs. Ruzzet," Simon says nervously as he hurries forward, almost flying down the stairs, missing the steps. The zombie old lady lets out another clanking of teeth as she tries to crawl after them, but they've already broken away. Floor after floor flies by at speed, with only a door ahead. John pushes that one open, but it's like it turns out to be locked. "The fucking lock's jammed, Simon, help!" The sounds of zombies are coming closer, and Riley could swear she can hear them dragging their feet on the floor. Strike one. Nothing happens. Second strike. The smell of stinking zombies is getting closer and old Ruzzie is already sliding down the stairs with broken legs, dragging herself with her arms. Third strike. Simon stands behind Soap with bat in hand, the wooden handle cracking from his grip. Four. The door opens and John reflexively grabs Simon by the collar of his shirt, pulling him outside.

It's fucked.The smell of burning, blood and decomposition was everywhere, the dead trying to get to the last survivors who dared to go outside. A girl ran past Simon, clacking her high heels with a loud squeal while three well-fed zombies with bloody mouths with blood dripping from them, staining their clothes, almost ran after her. John rushed towards the cars, picking his way through them with a slight ducking, while Ghost followed behind him, looking back and keeping an eye out for single zombies. The path through the yard was relatively clear, if it weren't for a pack of zombies in suits crouching over a corpse and ripping apart their once office colleague. "That's what 'eating the boss's brains out' means," John grinned grimly, and Simon only chuckled.

"We can walk along the edge and hope the bastards are too focused on their coworker," Simon suggested, and John nodded, slouching, hunching over and almost pressing himself against the wall. The zombies, too focused on their food, wouldn't have noticed him if it hadn't been for John's sudden cry of, "Fuck!" With a snarl, they turned their heads toward the living humans, slowly rising, moving their hollow-headed bodies forward. Simon turned to John, who was swearing to himself as he tried to kill the crawling zombie: it was half a body, the upper half, and from the stomach on up, there was nothing, just part of the spine, but it was tough. Hurriedly, Simon grabbed his friend by the wrist and swiftly dragged him away from the alley.

They made their way to the outskirts of the city, but they couldn't stop there because all the neighborhoods were crawling with zombies.

"I'm damn glad your attraction to life on the outskirts cut us a hell of a lot of slack. It wasn't as shitty when I got to you as it is now," John tried to catch his breath. How many kilometers had they run? It wasn't clear, but it was a lot, though they were used to long runs, and their goal was to get to Price's country house as fast as possible, even if it was a hell of a long way.

[malichev]

I believe that tomorrow, regardless of what happens, will be the way to separate who is really with the federation and who is not. I saw some posts saying that since qAntoine can shapeshift, he would be the guard who spoke to qCellbit. It's a strong possibility. But I question whether qAntoine really works for the federation. There are two cucuruchos, perhaps Osito is the one Antonine was talking about and it is possible that they both dislike Cucurucho. Cucurucho is 100% faithful to the Federation's style of control. And that's why he makes enemies even at work. We know that workers like Walter Bob are allied with the revolution, so there may be other workers in the federation who think the same. So maybe tomorrow's mission isn't simply someone trying to trick qCellbit, maybe it's actually a way to separate who is truly for the Federation and who is against it. I don't think they'll be able to kill Cucurucho, but the bear failing at something is already an achievement. Another point is that someone is mounting a revolution and is trying to know which members of the island to call to the team. This event will provide some answers. And if the mission is successful, Cucurucho may want to use qFoolish now to arrest the rebels. I just wonder how qJaiden will react to the possibility of the 2 Cucurucho hating each other. Because she wanted to protect both of them. Quackity was right when he said that tomorrow the QSMP could change completely. A new, less peaceful arc.

[r-lestrcnge]

Owl for: Antonin Dolohov @xantoninxdolohovx about Tiberius McLaggen @tiberiusxmclaggen Delivered by post office owl, on unmarked parchment devoid of any family insignia. It is plainly written in a magically disguised hand.

Dear friend,

I met with the acquaintance we discussed. As I expected, they were not willing to assist. But I have made an arrangement that will work well for all of us. It should help with my enquiries.

I hope you are making progress with your studies.

With best wishes.

[umgeorge]

george russell and lewis hamilton in parc ferme on sprint day, brazil - november 2, 2024 📷 antonin vincent / alamy

[rindough]

no idea what dreamcore/weirdcore is but flying by YUKEE and antonin reminds me of jing yuan and its lowkey ruined the song for me bc now every time i listen to it i remember how fucking depressed and tied down by his position that man is. had it playing in the bg while i read an amazing jy angst fic by coincidence and it was a blursed occasion. also now that i'm here Just Wait Til Next Year reminds me of boothill but mostly just cause i'm obsessed with him and that song encapsulates me more than it does him

HI ANON!! Weirdcore/dreamcore is, from what i get abt it, is like the aesthetic for things that r nostalgic but have a hint of uneasiness but also comfort at the same time? I often associate being in liminal space to these 2 aesthetics, an example of songs from these cores r 7 weeks and 3 days, and six forty seven!!

ALSO i listened to flying n i. Can. Agree. This song reminds me of how jing yuan wouldve felt esp while he was younger when the gang went downhill, oh how he wished to escape the never ending feel of drowning, seeing his friends go one by one, drifting apart and becoming exiled/fallen/etc

Jing yuan def feels hopeless whenever he's in thought of them, occasionally indulge in wishful thinking of what he couldve done back then to prevent all of this and to get his friends back. The ache never leaves his chest, you know? I just wanna give him all the love and affection he needs to help him bear the pain 🥹🥹

And anon i agree with just wait til next year for boothill because the whole vibe of the song is just filled with boothill for me. But what im imagining is kinda sad sobs cuz its like images of him getting shot at by other cowboys or cowboy cyborgs, him riding his horse back home, or him adventuring through the windy desert, just... trying to get home. To get back to the safety and comfort of his home, he might be rowdy and loud and brash but not everyone can withstand chaos ALL the time.

He just needs to be away from all these chaos.

--;

which hsr characters and what weirdcore/dreamcore/any songs do u pair them together with?

[posttexasstressdisorder]

'Evenin', folks...Mr. Baggins back with you for what I've decided to call "Sunday Serenade": Music to soothe and make ears happy as we head into next week. So to launch this inaugural edition of the program, I didn't have to think too hard, I mean, what else could we begin with, not one but two serenades: the music of Antonin Dvorak, his Op. 22 (Serenade for Strings) & Op. 44 (Serenade for Winds). Both played quite handily by Neville Marriner and The Academy of St. Martin in the Fields, on a Philips recording made in the early '80s. The sound is nothing less than sumptuous. Enjoy.

Shifting to more of an introspective vein, here is one of the most soothing albums I've ever owned: Harold Budd and Brian Eno's ground-breaking Ambient 2: The Plateaux of Mirror, from 1980, followed by their later collaboration, The Pearl.

We continue now with the music of Sir Edward Elgar, his beautiful Serenade for Strings, performed here in a live recording by the Norwegian Chamber Orchestra, earlier this year, in April 2024.

And I thought I would end tonight's Sunday Serenade with the music of Vaughan Williams, his "The Lark Ascending", once again, Sir Neville Marriner conducting the ASMF, with violinist Iona Brown.

Mr. Baggins signing off until tomorrow. Be kind, babies, be kind.

[slaviclore]

pls choose the best option & elaborate in tags if you'd like.

some endings are cut off to meet poll limits...

Context below the cut, but please answer first :)

this is the opening sentence of a letter written by fryderyk chopin to his friend and/or boyfriend tytus woyciechowski in 1829. he's 19/20 years old (we're not sure about his DOB), and he's been spending some time with prince antoni radziwiłł and his family at their palace in antonin (near Poznań). radziwiłł is a huge music nerd, and chopin is having a great time over there. the mood of the letter is mostly positive and upbeat, and you can probably expect him to be at his cheekiest.

there are 3 published english translations of this letter. none of the 3 translators are native polish speakers. here are their takes on this sentence:

full original sentence from chopin's november 14 1829 letter:

Ostatni twój list, w którym mi każesz się ucałować, odebrałem w Antoninie u Radziwiłła.

EL Voynich, Chopin's Letters (1931), pg 73:

I received your last letter, in which you send me a kiss, at Antonin, at the Radziwiłłs'.

Arthur Hedley, Selected Correspondence of Fryderyk Chopin (1962), pg 36:

Your last letter, in which you send me your warmest greetings, reached me at Radziwill's place at Antonin.

David Frick, Chopin's Polish Letters (2016), pg. 143:

I received your last letter, in which you tell me to give myself a kiss, in Antonin at Radziwiłł's.

why is this important?

1) it's an interesting grammar problem where the combination of a referred statement (FC is summarizing what TW said), a command, and a reflexive (się) makes it unclear who is to kiss who.

2) we don't have any letters from TW to FC, so it's useful to piece together the way he may have written to him.

3) FC has a habit of teasing TW for not liking to be kissed, which historians have taken a bit too seriously, if you ask me.

4) we'll talk about arthur hedley some other time, but yeah... i know.

i read this letter in polish first, and i didn't realize this sentence might be ambiguous. when i started reading the translations, i was surprised to see the different takes. my reactions ranged from "?" to "????" i like remind myself that my perspective is also biased, though -- by the fact i speak modern polish, and this is a 200 year old letter. i think this is a good example of how subjective translations can be. you ask 4 different people to translate something, you might very well get 4 different translations.

[legok9]

Gods and Monsters: Phase 2

Cutaway Comics continues its quest to make spin-off comics for the most Doctor Who obscure characters ever!

Drax: London Calling

Drax: L.A. Woman

Iris Wildthyme: Partners in Time

Losko of the Antonine

...who? Why, Loko the unnamed Antonine Killer from the novelization of Warriors' Gate!

You can support the project on IndieGoGo:

[laeana]

Those moments where the French biathletes acted suspiciously,

or like we like to call it, those real life moments where fanfics write themselves.

Here is a non exhaustive lists of moments that got us raising eyebrows and be blinking, wondering if it wasn't, even a tiny tiny bit, a peculiar situation.

Emilien waiting for Eric in the sauna (I mean, who am I to judge?)

2. Oh look just a picture of two teammates helping each other right? It would be if there hadn't been a joke about them proposing to one another.

[In the comments : Anna : @Eric you proposed to @Emilien 😱🤪/ Emilien : no it's actually me 😏/ Eric : you jealous 😌😉/ Anna : not if I can be the bridesmaid 😌😉]

3. Eric's hand on Fabien's torso (yep. Same Eric, same.)

4. I, too, love to passionately hug my teammate for several seconds with my full body at the end of the season, right Quentin, Emilien?

5. why. are. you. almost. naked? Where are your clothes? Why is most of the French team exhibitionists? (Also wtf get off the ground Oscar😭)

6. Emil getting on his knees for Quentin (sounds like a fair way to celebrate, I'll admit.)

7. Fabien, about Eric and him sharing a bed.

8. yes. That is Emil's ass. Just because.

[Appeared in one of Antonin's vlog, I guess Emil sometimes sleeps naked, even if he's rooming with someone-]

9. Last but not least, generally, the amount of pictures where they are naked or almost, or showing their asses/their teammates' asses. Pretty sure in Anto's vlog you got at least Quentin's and Antonin's during physio session.