#but this monumental film played before my eyes

[katkalis-the-fanartist]

I was trying out the classic hunger games sim online cause its amusing to me and I'm planning to do a bigger retry with it tomorow with more characters etc etc

This demo round though...broke me right before bed..so I'm showing yall the angst and hurt too

If you like submas, be ready. Summed up, this happened:

For context, Lorian is a Dark Souls 3 boss and is also probably one of my biggest comfort characters if not my top one. So this is super conflicting and I WASNT PREPARED FOR THE HEARTBREAK-

Someone HAS to have made a fanfic similar to this tho...and it would have been worse if Ingo and Emmet switched places imo

[siena-sevenwits]

Some live reactions to the first scene of An Illusion of Wings by @scarvenartist

“Mist rose from the icy canal, fog swirling around the eight ghostly monuments arrayed on both sides of the bridge.” – WHAT a wonderfully atmospheric opening! The tone – the visual! And the rest of the paragraph is a cut gem too – I can see this, I can feel this. It gives a remarkable sense of city’s age and the time of year. And given what I know of this story, that shapeshifting into animals is a feature of the story, it’s very fitting to start with these images of heraldic beasts. Reminds me ever so slightly of the opening montage of shots in the film adaptation of A Man for All Seasons.

Man. The way you plummet us straight into this duel situation while evoking all these hints of the broader worldbuilding. I’m impressed.

I had to look up “sable hat” and am pleased that I now know the name for those things. I am now educated.

“But I had been wandering the streets for hours in a futile search for my thieving feral sister, and these privileged gentlemen had decided to settle some insult on a public thoroughfare, inconveniencing everyone else. It offended me.” I love how voicey she is – this is so expressive of someone just done. Just absolutely done. “Thieving, feral sister” – the frustration in those words! And now these chaps dare to block up a public footpath with their stupid potential-murder-tiff – it’s just rude, it is.

Gonna call it now – this is going to be all my favourite things combined. (I have an advantage in that I read an older version of the first chapter of this story once before, but I still feel justified in calling it now.)

Yeah, Cazda, you’re taking all the angsty brooding out of the situation! Have some manners, dear!

As someone who struggles with finding smooth ways to slip a character’s age in organically, I applaud the way you got the fact she’s sixteen in early in a way that further characterizes both Gospodin Spectacles here and Cazda – he’s condescending in his elation, she’s touchy (though understandably so just now.)

Again, I’m at an advantage having read another version of this part, though it was some time ago and it’s only coming back to me as I read. But in light of that advantage – masterfully done, dropping that hint about how he wasn’t there when the initial offense that gave rise to the duel happened – that he’s not the man he appears to be. His remarks about “believing he had to be restrained” and all. And when Cazda catches that it’s a strange thing to say, he plays it off in words that might make us assume he was drunk at the time, and not wonder about it any further.

The description of his eyes turning “brittle blue” is very striking.

Cazda seeing the guardswoman and picturing herself similarly is a good character establishing moment – glimpses of what she values (“authoritative, confident, independent”). what she aspires to.

Oh, whoa, Officer, you’re putting a sabre to a young girl’s throat? You mean business! Yike!

I’m so curious now – her father was arrested? She was interrogated? She felt a confused guilt? There’s intriguing stuff here to be uncovered.

A teen girl wearing her father’s old coat – another hint about her circumstances and her family’s.

Swallow-man (Kiro, I know it’s Kiro, and I’ve loved him for years now even before my earlier reading foray because he’s so characterful in the art) is well-known to the police – at least his tendency to disappear as a swallow is. Oooh, and not just to the police it seems. OK, the Firebird, sure, he’d probably like that better than “Swallow-man.” Cazda doesn’t seem so inclined to be impressed, and indeed seems eager to disillusion her siblings. It will be interesting to see how much of this is a temporary fit of frustration and how much is her normal character.

Just the sight of the coin makes her stomach churn with hunger- yes, she and her family are in a bad way.

Nezka! I don’t really remember her much from the previous read, but I know she’s feral Magpie younger sister!

Hm – having a different human face is more serious that shapeshifter duelling. Yeah, I can see why that would be considered more dangerous to society in the eyes of the law.

And we're ending the scene with a return to Cazda's envy of the guardswoman - significant, foreshadowing.

[queenshelby]

OSCAR SPECIAL (PART THREE OF FOUR)

Given Cillian’s recent success, I decided to jump ahead a little in my fics and give you a little Oscar Special. But don’t worry, I will cover off everything in between in due course and, for some fics, this Oscar part will hopefully get you guessing, while for others it will constitute a happy ending!

The Director (Oscar Special)

18 months later....Media Snippet -  E! News

"Cillian Murphy has just arrived at the red carpet, looking absolutely dazzling in a black suit and bowtie. Simple but exquisite nonetheless," one of the reporters said to another, a microphone hoisted between them.

The other beamed, while staring at the earpiece, where notes were fed to her. "And I can confirm that he arrived with Oppenheimer assistant director Y/N Y/LN as well as close friend Enda Walsh, both of whom he had worked with last year on his most recent movie called "Small Things Like These," she said, equally envious and enthusiastic as she watched the actor stroll down the red carpet.

"There is no sight of his wife Danielle Murphy which has sparked rumors afloat that they might be having marital troubles," her partner chimed in with, positioning a camera and focusing it commendably on Cillian without causing a scene.

"According to sources, it was rumored already last year that Danielle Murphy has moved out of their joint home shortly after filming of 'Small Things Like These' wrapped up, although no official statement has been released confirming it," she responded before the other reporter chimed in, announcing the arrival of yet another actor who was no other than your husband James McKibben. 

"There is James McKibben, dressed in a white tuxedo! He's looking utterly fabulous as well!" the other reporter said, noting James' presence on the red carpet. The camera flashed as he walked down the glossy red surface, charisma and self-confidence emanating from him with ease as security held him back from where you were standing with both, Cillian and Enda. 

"And here is a bit of trivia for you," the same reporter then announced quietly, pressing the microphone against her lips as if she was telling a secret. "Word has it that Murphy took out a restraining order against McKibbin following an incident at Universal in July last year," she paused for dramatic effect before going on. "It's not entirely clear what happened, but my guess is that involved Y/N Y/LN who, just earlier this year, filed for divorce from McKibbin," the reporter stated, feeling a little too much glee for having what seemed like an inside scoop before she went on to assess Cillian's chances of winning. 

"Well, let's just say that everyone in the industry is rooting for Cillian this year. He has been nominated for an Oscar for his portrayal of Robert Oppenheimer in the film "Oppenheimer", a true masterclass in acting," the other reporter gushed, addressing the first one.

"You've got it. All eyes are on him tonight and whatever the rumors floating around may be, none of them will matter once he holds this statue in his hands," his colleague responded, sounding equally enamored with Cillian's acting range and talent that could very well help him win. 

Hours later, he did, indeed, win the Oscar for Best Actor, and just like the reporter said, all eyes were on him as he accepted the award with grace and humility.

"Oh my god," he stammered almost nervously as he was handed his trophy. "Thank you so much for this great honor. Thank you Christopher Nolan and Emma Thomas for giving me the opportunity to play such a monumental role, one that I am still trying to process as the words come out of my mouth, and to all the cast and crew for their unwavering support throughout filming. I wouldn't be here without them," Cillian said with perhaps a slightly trembling voice.

It was not every day you get to be nominated for an Academy Award, let alone win one and, with that, his final thanks went to his adult children who believed in him along the way.

As expected though, Cillian did not mention his wife Danielle, whose absence after almost twelve years of marriage sparked rumors of ongoing troubles between them.

An usher arrived to signal him off the stage and waved to the audience before taking a seat again right next to you. 

"I am so proud of you," you whispered in Cillian's ear, your lips brushing against the delicate outer shell in a way no one noticed. 

"You know I couldn't have done it without you, right?" he then whispered back while, discreetly, taking your hand into his and giving it a firm squeeze, as if he needed you there just as much as you needed him.

The weight of the Oscar in his hand was surreal, the sheer scale of his victory even more so, but with you by his side, the feeling was no longer uncanny, but rather, comforting but what would come next, at the after party, was going to be an utter surprise for you both. 

Timeline Note for my fic:

Filming Oppenheimer - September/October 2022

Filming STLT - January/February 2023

Oppenheimer Release/Press Engagements - July 2023

Award Season 2024 - January/February/March 2024

To be continued...

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[ac3may]

“ the wag diaries ”

How You Met

~ Sam Kerr ~

~~~~~~~~~~

your first day working with the Chelsea media team started by meeting the staff

a player of the men's team your younger brother refused to leave your side 

you proceeded to have lunch with the men’s team

until Connor Gallagher and Ben Chilwell physically dragged him away to training

and you continued your day by eloping with interviews of the women’s team about the past season

you weren't sibling-less long though as you moved to the other side of Cobham

your sister just finishing her own training session

although your first experience with Enya’s team wasn't the most professional

it was more watching them rehab…

post-training 

shirtless!

rippling muscles covered in water droplets

how could you not look and admire?!

Sam’s first impression is mid-interview though, captured on camera and saved for eternity

you had stepped out for a glass of water, returning with a tray for the whole team 

Sam could do nothing but double-take, surely you weren’t real

she could’ve sworn she’d just seen an angel enter the room

her first thought is ‘who is this girl? And how come I’ve never seen her before?’

she had never seen anyone pull off the basic blue training kit the way you did

how did you manage to make training joggers look good?

it wasn't until she returned to her teammates in a daze that she found out who you were, and that you’d be around for the foreseeable

your first impression wasn’t quite as monumental

you were surrounded by good-looking sportswomen all day, and trying to make a good impression on your first day 

your second however? much more so

you had been called in to film a ‘Matchday Unseen’ video for the Chelsea YouTube channel last-minute

most of the day was spent trying to find your way around 

accidentally stumbling into the wrong place a number of times

falling through another door you find yourself in the changing room rather than the cafeteria 

the sight of Sam Kerr in her underwear certainly wasn’t what you were expecting on your way to find a bacon sandwich

your one saving grace was that she was the only one in the room

but even that didn’t stop the red face you wore as you did everything to avoid eye contact 

while spluttering apologies

a spluttering mess was something you never were

but somehow that’s the only side Sam saw of you for the first few weeks

and she revealed in it, she lived for teasing you, getting flirty and watching you freeze up

catching your eye and seeing you stumble over your camera settings

her favourite was when she pushed her luck by playing it up for the cameras

the fans loved what they thought she was giving them and she loved what response she got in your pink cheeks

after months of open flirting and help from your siblings, she finally gets you alone to ask you on a date 

one that you end up missing… not on purpose!

~~~~~~~~~~

So for anyone familiar with my blog this may seem like a repeat.

That’s because essentially it is.

But I have so much more to build on this whole concept and relationship that I felt it would work better in wag diaries than as a stand alone reader piece.

Sorry if you came hoping for something new, I promise it will develop into new stories soon!

[fsbc-librarian]

WIPs Word Search

I've been tagged in two of these now - thanks @thisonesatellite & @xoxobuckybarnes - so I am going to combine the two into one (but I only have two WIPs to work from, so it'll be interesting to see if I can split the prompts down the middle or not).

Green: There’s something about planning, filming, and piecing together video clips that’s always excited Bucky, and it’s pretty much exactly what the opening video for their Glastonbury performance is - just a longer video clip. It’s pretty much fully filmed - the solo parts were mostly filmed on a soundstage in front of a green screen anyway, and all of the group shots were done in London either on location or with more green screens. There’s no talking by any of the band, so that made it easier, and it had actually been a lot of fun to film because they’d had enough explosions to rival a Hollywood blockbuster. All that’s really left now is to make sure the scenes look good, and the music matches the action.

Spoon: Breakfast is a bowl of cereal. He eyes the kettle with suspicion, but decides that’s a battle for another day. He’s not entirely sure how to use the coffee press, and there’s no room on the tiny counter for a coffee machine anyway. He drops the bowl in the sink, and is three steps away before he remembers that there’s no one else to actually wash it for him anymore. He wonders if there’s any point in filling the whole sink, small though it might be, for just one bowl and one spoon. Surely not. A couple of drops of detergent in the bowl, and a rinse with hot water later, he leaves the now-clean bowl on the tiny drying rack and heads for the bathroom.

Art: He knows Steve loves art galleries and history, and that he refuses to watch the news in case he learns of another art gallery or historical monument being destroyed. He knows Steve had asthma as a kid, that his ma was a single omega in a rough neighborhood and they couldn’t afford a television so he would sneak into the old movie theater which only played black and white films, which is why Steve knows next to nothing about pop culture except for some very niche references to movies from the 40s. 

Everything: Steve can only stare, heart thumping as he soaks it in as best he can, glad he’s comfy as all hell on his couch in their living room with the AC on even as he wishes he could be there.  He listens to the tracks, everything sounding even better than he had imagined that it could live, the performance not marred by any bad sound technician issues - though Steve had been sure it wouldn’t be.  The 107’s team were damn good, and Bucky was too much of a perfectionist to allow anything but the best, especially for something so important as this.

Sharp: Bucky cuts him off with a kiss, biting down on his lower lip with sharp teeth, soothing the sting with a swipe of his tongue. “I trust you,” he whispers against Steve’s mouth. 

Interesting: “It was certainly interesting to see you getting a dressing down like that,” Maria admits. “Every time I’ve seen someone try in the past, you’ve just walked away from them.”

“It was Steve,” he says, as though that explains anything. 

Eyeroll: “Cinderella lost her shoe, not her feet,” Wanda says from behind them, making Darcy jump. 

“I told you!” Bucky laughs. “I told you it was Cinderella’s shoe, but you didn’t believe me!”

Wanda rolls her eyes goodnaturedly. “Are you hungry? Logan made a stack of snacks earlier; they’re in the kitchen.” 

Well, this certainly made me realise that I use some phrasing more often than I'm overly happy with (and also using the search function on a 400+ page document in google docs on an older model laptop will almost make the laptop sieze up), but it was fun to look through my work.

No pressure tags for @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy @zenaidamacrouras1 @oh-i-swear-writes @musette22 and anyone else who wants to join in. Your words are: patch, behave, loud, genuine

[dragonoffantasyandreality]

Of Fear and Statues

Based on some of my fears manifested by watching a certain analog horror series :')

(Enjoying a lot of fun for the upcoming Halloween season 😅)

Hey, at least Gordon will suffer with me XD

@teapotteringabout @skymaiden32 @knyee @janetm74 @the-original-sineater @amistrio @thundergeek59 @riallasheng @katblu42 @yarol2075 @mariashades @room-on-broom

-0-0-0-

Virgil had always wondered why Gordon - a once military man within WASP and a fearless rescuer of International Rescue - was too darn nervous when around statues. More specifically, ones from their mainland.

It was something that he noticed since the Little Squid was a teenager.

He remembered the first time that happened: when Alan wanted to look at the Statue of Liberty, the 16 year old Gordon turned pale as a ice.

"Don't go! T-There's a giant ass horned snake in there! He'll zap you out of dimensions!"

What the heck?! Was everyone's first thought.

What was that "snake" was he talking about?

And why freaking out over a monument that just stand there? And existed for a very long time and representing the liberty of their people... for a certain time.

Usually, strange rumors and scary stories that his school friends would tell him just give Gordon something to make the old age "Unsolved Mysteries" joke.

But, since then, he was terrified for even seeing a face of one of those legendary pieces of sculped art.

Thankfully, his fear had eased for the poor Little Squid. And it seemed - at least what Virgil thought - that his phobia was long forgotten...

Until recently.

Coincidentally, Virgil was sculping a beautiful gargoyle based on a Kirin, when he heard a scream booming through the Tracy Villa!

It was Gordon's...

With wet clay on his face, hands and art apron, the pilot of Thunderbird 2 rushed out of his art studio towards his wing-man's room.

When he eventually arrived, another scream nearly made the poor Virgil deaf for a moment.

Then there was a loud crash.

And then there was silence. The Fish and the Tank simply stared at each other.

Beside a trampled Gordon, lay a film box that used the house a file cylinder, a discarded bowl of caramel-flavored popcorn, and some spilled spinach juice on the floor.

On the screen of the television, was a rather terrifying looking menu screen. The visuals replicated that of analog film nearly half a century ago, the colors were black and white. A certain statue of a warrior lady with a sword in her hand, flickered in and out in the background of the static. Along with some other strange anomalies in the semi-dark sky and a muffled vintage music was playing.

The older brother reached for the remote, convientely thrown at the edge of the doorway and turned the TV off.

"Gee Wiz, Virgil!" the aquanaut broke the silence, finding his breath, "that face paint of yours made me think you were 'Freedom' coming to chop my head off, bro!"

After another moment of awkward silence, the artist slowly put his hands on his hips, with the most deadpanned expression that rivals that of Scott's.

"Gordon? What on Earth were you doing?" he stood before the curled up joker for a brother.

"Trying to face my fears... The last ep of season one still killed me!" Gordon smiled with embarrassment as he gave the Tracy Puppy Eyes.

Virgil took the box and glanced at the cover. And then suddenly, all of the puzzle pieces just clicked into place!

He had found culprit of Gordon's odd fear, written in two words:

Monument Mythos

[petsgrief]

cont. @ncghtshifts

“would it be cheeky of me to say I wanted to hurry back to you?” a confession teasingly phrased through a fond grin and stacy should thank their luckiest stars his skin is already flush from the heated water beating down on him some minutes ago, having took to a shower as part-routine and to give her some time and room to settle in for the morning without his, surely, suffocating affections - little intimacies they’ve allowed each other; withheld and yet, simple physicality that both ache (deliciously so) and soothe (deliriously so). something wholly new to stacy love saller; keeps him. present. grounded. gentle-minded. nothing went beyond the touch of his shoulders, the brush over freckled cheeks, a million and one endless kiss and the comfortable dip in his bed and yet, it was everything he'd ever craved; it all felt rather monumental with rosa. fateful, even. all he'd held in his heart for her was always bound to reach her eventually. he'd cloak her with it if he could and had. flush as he beams again eyeing the book in her hands as he sat close, patting the towel perched at his shoulders into his dampened curls. “thank you, it’s my favorite.” a projector film of a flashy childhood in long island, the heydays of mrs. saller and to his own delayed surprise, the usual bitterness evades his tone. “my, uh, mom gave it to me way back when I was maybe, fifteen? yeah,” stacy then scoffs when he catches his own slip, reverse-freudian, she was never that intentional or even remotely aware of any grand potentials of her career. “gave, more like she tossed it away when plans of that godawful play they wanted to make of it fell through. seemed impossible, she said – well, sarah snook says otherwise.” it takes him a minute to be disturbed by what he'd casually indulged, a layer of intimacy he's yet used to so he resorts to what he's comfortable with; what she discreetly and shyly grants him when he swipes her hand into his, brushing his thumbs gently across her knuckles before bring them to his lips and pecking them twice. “so, breakfast?”

[juliasdowntonstuff]

Chapter 52

Chapter 52 is out now on ff and ao3 and I'm back with some Rosamund content in this one before focusing more on Cobert in what's left to come :)

Also: the third film has finally been announced and I could not be happier about that!

"What is my dear brother showing your Mama there? Surely it can't be about the flowers — he hasn't learnt about flowers and their significance within the last month and he certainly never had much interest in that sort of thing when he was younger. Mama tried to teach him a thing or two, hoping it might one day help him find a suitable match. Luckily for my brother, Cora has never been too bothered by all that."

Rosamund was quite casually sipping on her cup of tea, her eyes not leaving her brother and his wife standing near the folly even just once as she addressed her niece who was sitting next to her at the table. She followed them with her gaze as they slowly walked around the side of the imposing structure, Cora holding fast onto Robert's arm while they both appeared to be looking at the ground where flowers were beginning to sprout. Mary could not blame her aunt for finding this odd, but she also did not know about the additions she and her father had had made.

Mary, who had been rather preoccupied with watching George and Caroline play in the sun with all their cousins, then turned to look first at her aunt next to her and then at her parents a few metres away. It always amused her when her father was being addressed as her aunt's dear brother because she never quite knew whether Rosamund was being sincere in her use of the endearment or not. The chances were always quite high that she was being sarcastic, even more so when talking directly with him.

"No, he has not found himself a new special interest, he's showing her another addition we had the builders include to give the folly more meaning, to make it a bit more personal for Mama."

"And what might that addition be, pray tell? The folly itself is quite impressive and beautifully made. I am honestly surprised at my brother's inventiveness with this present. This is already a monument to honour your Mama for several generations to come."

"I think I should just show you," Mary said quietly in reply to this, getting up from the chair with some apparent reluctance. What she was about to show her aunt would not be easy and she somehow dreaded it. A small part of her had hoped to wait a bit before showing this to her aunt, at least until after the party when everyone had gone. There was no way she could predict her aunt's reaction.

One eyebrow sceptically raised, Rosamund followed Mary to the folly. However, instead of following Robert and Cora who had gone to the left, Mary went right and began to round the new building.

"You are really making quite the mystery out of this, my dear!" Rosamund said, the waning of her amusement evident in her voice. Mary could still hear her smile, though, which caused her to be at least slightly hopeful about her aunt's subsequent reaction and not only scared.

[lewisibarra1512]

Why 2024 has been the best year in my honest opinion

• Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown and Penny's Big Breakaway became monumental hits on Switch (the latter getting a physical treatment thanks to Limited Run) • A controversial figure named twomad died on the day before Valentine's • Ranno and Clairen got together again for Rivals of Aether II • David Zaslav from Warner Bros. Discovery made a huge tax write-off by shelving and deleting Coyote VS Acme for good • Slayer got reunited for live concerts after a five year hiatus • Toys for Bob went independent • An anthropomorphic potato named Archimedes Tracy-Yancy died at the immediate start of March, leading Glutko to abruptly end his campaign of being playable in a downgraded platform fighter • I livestreamed the NEW Woody Woodpecker Show and the Twisted Tales of Felix the Cat on Peacock • Did Chapagetti for the first time (best served with Monty's egg and Spam) • Out in the middle of nowhere, GAINAX went totally bankrupt after almost four decades of business • Made my extremely early Birthday / Christmas shopping successful for once • Universal Pictures reviving Woody Woodpecker back to the way he is • Illumination made fun of ay-eye and the majority of Marvel and DC films in their Megaverse spoof video (Huge respect for them!) • A sicko named Kyle got busted for being part of the Weinstein effect as of both 20 June and 13 July (Even if I've never seen Mighty MagiSwords on the telly) • Played Donkey Kong 64 on my newly downloaded Delta emulator via iPad for the first time ever • Capcom, Marvel and SNK revived their interest in both Marvel VS Capcom Fighting Collection Arcade Classics and SVC CHAOS, now playable on Nintendo Switch, PS4 PRO, Steam and GOG • Quiet on Set destroyed Dan Schneider's relevance and reputation thanks to Investigation Discovery • Microsoft Studios immediately got exposed before they accepted their true fate • Davide Soliani left Ubisoft, because thank goodness he didn't have to make a new e****c banana game since he noticed what Adi just blabbed out in the middle of my livestream • Kai Bear's Popcorn is open for business, and I love it! • Went to Two Hands and did Potato Corn Dog with 100% mozzarella filling and it was the best thing imaginable • Barbie won nothing while Oppenheimer made Universal even more profitable at the movies over Warner Bros., all thanks to the Oscars • Black Myth Wukong quickly became a hit seller via the Steam store with no BS excuses or nonsensical stuff in sight • Pizza Tower surprise dropping on Switch motivated me to revive my Fangamer account • Celebrated 20 years of Mtn. Dew's Baja Blast... by drinking it while doing it • Nikocado Avocado... lost weight? No experience with him, but okay. • Atari bought the Intellivision brand, with Astrosmash now relaunched on Atari 50 as an Atari 2600 port • Linkin Park is back with a new singer Emliy Armstrong and it's actually... good? • Argonaut Games (formerly Argonaut Software) is revived with a little help from Croc: Legend of the Gobbos • Aaron Greenberg from Microsoft Studios said "nobody cares about Banjo-Kazooie", which in turn made Croc more playable than it is • I transformed an Oogie Boogie plush from my local Spirit Halloween into a Santa-fied hugger • Donkey Kong Country came to Nintendo World as my extremely early birthday present in time for the 10th anniversary of the Game Awards • Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer made a return to NBC after 50 years making daywalkers even more irrelevant than ever • Jackal Salami got busted by South Koreans and went to jail • Procreate and Pepsi said no to generative ay-eye in an awesome way • LL Cool J returned to Def Jam with the FORCE, this time with Virgin Records • Arzette: The Jewel of Faramore was released on all platforms with stellar gameplay and a fun homage to CD-i animation (and YouTube Poops) • Both Ufouria the Saga 2 (Hebereke 2) and Gimmick 2 are huge examples of Sunsoft's highly anticipated revival under the new name Sun Corp. • Astro Bot became PS5 Pro's best seller, with over 1.5 million copies sold worldwide • Both Astro Bot and Black Myth Wukong won the Game Awards

[bleedingbeneathamantilla]

excerpt from The Libertines (2019)

June

2012

My lucidity died in the house I grew up in. I was raised in an arcane Hitchcockian mansion with a cupola. There were no servants due to my guardian, Scarlett Freeland’s, illicit exploitation, and her fear of it being discovered. Therefore, she let everything collect dust. Her mansion was tall and monumental. It reminded me of a Halloween sticker decoration one puts on a windowpane. On our street, Cupola Avenue, named for the cupolas on each house, I suffered many seasons of violent turmoil at the hands of Scarlett. She owned a video camera that she balanced on top of a tripod and told me it was my “surveillance.”

On several occasions, since the age of thirteen, I was raped by a multitude of strange men that Scarlett invited inside. She would put 80s hair metal on the stereo while they raped me and she sat in a red armchair, smoking numerous cigarettes. Sometimes, I wouldn’t get raped and instead it would be my deed, according to every person in the room, to kill a person in front of me. I’ve killed 37 people in Scarlett’s house, each one dissolved with acid in the cupola on film, and killed on film as well, before being doused with acid. Each time this event happened, it was recorded and burned onto a disc to be viewed on Scarlett’s TV.

There were only two other houses on Cupola Avenue: the Tarringtons’ house and the Miltons’ house. Clyde Tarrington lived in a two-story house painted white with black shutters. He lived there with his daughter, Blithe. On their front door was a poster of a symbol that held a cryptic enchantment for me: a cross with an hourglass in the center of it. It always reminded me of their time running out. I had wanted to kill Blithe for so many years. I felt her to be prettier than me with her lustrous black hair and piercing green eyes. She always loved to remind me of how I would have been killed by my twin sister, Adele, had she lived. Adele was called the alpha and I was, mentally, the omega. On a rainy day when lightning split the sky into slices, Adele and me were playing dress-up with red velvet gowns and silver high heels. We were twelve. I convinced her into a “baptism,” holding her head underwater. My newfound strength prevailed and she soon ceased to breathe.

When Scarlett found out, she didn’t seem to care. Neither did the rest of the neighborhood; they were always killing people. We melted her body into the floor of the cupola with acid.

My name used to be Lillian Freeland, but once my twin was dead, I uncontrollably became someone named June. She came to me, like a doppelganger, looking exactly like me, but bearing no evil intentions.

“I am here, and I am not leaving you,” June told me. I regret killing Adele despite her greater knowledge of schoolwork. We were both homeschooled and Scarlett never told us what she did for a living. I learned later on that she worked for the federal government.

My liberation from Scarlett’s persistent and unyielding abuse came on the day of my eighteenth birthday, April 17. After she made me read Tennyson’s “The Lady of Shalott” to two men, who raped me when I was done, and when they had left, I waited for Scarlett to go upstairs and watch one of her movies. I sauntered to the garage and snatched an axe, the same one Scarlett used in satanic rituals when she was young. I made the predatory ascent up the stairs and into her bedroom. Then, as though she were a chopping block and as though her sanguine bloodflow was sacred, I swung the axe down upon her skull. Hard. She was watching The Caretakers, a black and white movie about women in group therapy. She fell to the side, writhing in pain. I went to the front of the chair and brought the axe down upon her back until her spinal cord was severed and her tenebrous heart gave out. I left her there and ran back downstairs, screaming the whole way.

Next, I opened Scarlett’s freezer and grabbed a carton of Marlboro 100’s, lit one, and burned the subtle swastikas hidden in the patterns of an Oriental rug. I gazed around me, took in the contents of the living room: the Kit-Kat clock shaped like a black cat with bulging eyes, the white topaz chandelier, the gutted hearth, the period furniture. I decided it was time to leave my home behind forever. I grabbed a pink backpack and shoved the carton of cigarettes inside, along with a drawer full of working Bic lighters. I threw in three shirts, six pairs of socks, six pairs of underwear, two pairs of pants, a journal, a pen, and a gun. I topped off the luggage with some rubber vampire teeth I endeavored to save for a malevolent purpose: murdering Blithe Tarrington.

I put my hand on the gun as I walked outside, holding it securely within the large pocket of my forest green trench coat. To my knowledge, the Miltons across the street were always killing people (Scarlett always said so.), but I didn’t know how they felt about Blithe. I didn’t care. I rang the doorbell, staring down the cross and hourglass on the door’s poster. Luckily, Blithe answered the door. I pulled out the gun, and her face became as stricken as one being lashed with a switch.

“Get inside,” I gnashed, pushing her onto the floor  and slamming the door behind me. “And don’t get up. Don’t even talk.”

She talked anyway. “Lillian, please don’t kill me. You don’t have to - “

“But I want to, and I can, and I will kill you and nothing will ever be able to resurrect you!”

“What’s going on with that Freeland bitch? Why is she in my house?” screamed Clyde, who had just descended the stairs. I shot him in the head, and he slumped over, instantaneously dead.

“You’ve been killing people in this house for years, and it’s time to go!” I vociferated over her harrowed wailing. “Now, put these in.” I unzipped my backpack and handed her the rubber vampire teeth.

She stared at me, wide-eyed with feral fear. She did nothing. She said nothing.

“Your mouth, dummy. Put them in your mouth.”

I handed her the teeth, and she took them from me and placed them over her own toothpaste commercial-white teeth.

“You look the very caricature of Halloween,” I said, laughing as I blew out her brains. The remains flew against the wall and painted an inkblot test of blood smears everywhere. I walked into Blithe’s bedroom after I was sure she was dead, and saw a purple canopied bed, a bookshelf filled with many classic and contemporary novels, among them: the Bronte sisters, Oscar Wilde, Theodore Dreiser, Jane Austen, Anais Nin, D.H. Lawrence. I grabbed Nin’s House of Incest, Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray and Charlotte Bronte’s Villette, and left the house.

I didn’t make it very far. I was down the road not very far when I was arrested.  I always feared them coming for me. I fell onto the asphalt, scabbing my knees and not feeling it. I denied what was happening. I muttered to myself incoherently.

“We know you killed some people, Lillian.”

“My name is June,” was all that I said before my mind shut off and I suddenly woke up, vegetative, in a jail cell.

*

Eventually, I was labelled not guilty by reason of insanity. The police found Scarlett’s recordings and the recordings that the Miltons and the Tarringtons made of their own killings when I told them about the neighborhood, and what Scarlett had done to me. One day, I will get out of the forensics services ward, where the criminally insane are housed. I have spent many nights here, remembering the death and ravaging, my hair coiling like Medusa’s on the pillow of the restraint bed, the leather straps leaving black bruises on my wrists. Every night, I pray to God and Jesus and all the saints that ever were that I’ll be forgiven for my killings, and be accepted into a realm I can call heaven.

My lucidity will live again, resurged.

2019

June and Marcelle &

Cathleen Carter

She led me to the house with the cupola

Where she stabbed me in the backyard

Blood flowed glowing red from my pale skin

Staining my white blouse

And my throat ached

I haunt the halls

And my voice resides within the walls

I’m a phantom floating through the inmates

Living in my killer’s group home

Eyes stare from the cupola

I don’t know who saw me die

I’m buried under a thorny bush

Bones hidden by woods and tiny baby teeth

She scattered

Covering my grave with evidence from her recent infanticides

She stabbed my baby

And cut me for giving birth

In her bed

My lover carved our initials in a tree

And we’ll always be in touch

I eat strawberries off a plate in his room

We hung a dreamcatcher to capture his nightmares

Of me being tortured by her ringed hands

Bag placed over my head

Cathleen Carter, the snuff film queen

(I have killed many)

Choking on film reel

Always having to be polite

In the morning light drinking tea

Deirdre, the killer, laced it with GHB

Putting me to sleep

Separated from my lover

Pillow soaked in warm tears

His tears and mine

We drink them in vials and kiss under stars

Soon he too will be a ghost

Swallowing pills on a blanket in the cemetery

Deirdre will find us and take our picture

Maybe she’ll capture my phantom on camera

*

With curiosity, Marcelle Trahern saw from the window Deirdre Carter and her niece, Cathleen, arguing. The infant was dead, that much Marcelle knew. Cathleen Carter had given birth to a baby girl now with stab wounds, lying in red and white rigor mortis in her crib with blood on the teddy bear, in the dolls’ hair and on the lampshade on the side table. Most of the inmates, as they were known due to the group home’s strict rules, were gone for the day at an event and June Freeland was downstairs. Deirdre Carter quickly took over June’s life after leaving her post as nurse at the asylum where June was housed. June was incompetent to stand trial, declared insane and sent away for many years. She had returned to Scarlett Freeland, her former guardian’s, mansion to live. It had been converted into a group home for women with trauma issues.

All thoughts of June vanished from Deirdre’s mind when the knife blade shone in the sun, an ominous metal glint that suddenly penetrated the naked pearl throat of Cathleen. She collapsed to the grass in the fenced-in backyard and as the earth was fresh from the rain, Deirdre found a shovel leaning against the toolshed and dug a fresh grave. Marcelle had never liked Cathleen much because she was always harping on the girls to follow the rules: don’t smoke dope, don’t invite boys over without permission, etc. She had gotten herself knocked up by Miles Sutherland, and Deirdre highly disapproved of him with his leather jacket and cigarettes. Marcelle only saw him once when he drove to pick up Cathleen for a date, his handsome face a silhouette in the dark window. Marcelle decided to keep quiet about the death. She watched Cathleen be tossed into the grave liked a broken doll. Deirdre had tied a plastic bag over her face and stabbed her in the chest. For ten minutes, Marcelle watched Deirdre extract Cathleen’s heart from her chest cavity, holding the dead, lifeless muscle in her palm, her calm blue eyes narrowed and focused on it like a witch in a black magic ritual. June suddenly appeared beside Marcelle.

“The bitch is finally dead,” Marcelle said, breaking her vow not to tell anyone. “What is she going to do with the heart?”

“I don’t know,” said June.

The girls, both in their twenties and too old for Cathleen’s trashy immaturity, watched with morbid fascination as Deirdre snapped a polaroid   (after turning off the video camera)

of Cathleen’s corpse before throwing dirt back over her and packing it in. She laid stones over it and from her pocket, she took something white and scattered it over the grave. When she went back inside the house, Marcelle and June left the cupola to inspect what Deirdre had spilled. Six tiny teeth in the front yard, taken from a toddler’s mouth. A previous killing. When the cops led Deirdre away after June called them, June put on a nun habit and took over the house.

They heard Cathleen’s whispers of love for Miles and reassurances that Deirdre was gone. They buried her baby in an infant cemetery labeled merely “Infant Cemetery” in iron above a fancy gate bearing an entrance to the graveyard. June called the cops by her own policy, knowing hiding a murder is wrong.

“Marcelle, she’s a psycho, bats-in-the-head bitch and she could have come after us, too. It’s better that she’s gone.”

“I guess so,” said Marcelle, her mind on Nanny Cravat choking on her milk laced with Drano. Marcelle had fled the world of Christian broadcast rooms and the sex trade. While the cops dealt with Deirdre, she hid in her closet. Nanny Cravat had invited several men over to force themselves on her, and she was glad she couldn’t remember it in great detail. Dissociating was so divine. Girls wore meretricious makeup to school and church and their naked limbs stuck out from cheap, mall-bought miniskirts. Marcelle would have given them all Drano in a cup, too, if she knew how not to get caught.

But she was far from their bratty voices now, with June Freeland, Anika White and Marilyn Sanders to keep her company. In the meantime, the house became less of a group home and June began paying the monthly bills with Deirdre’s leftover income found stashed in a safe in her room. Marijuana smoke soon filled the rooms and the girls giggled at the enhanced cartoons on the television, making funny faces at the ceiling. Then, Cathleen appeared in the mirror behind them in her prom finery, staring sternly with her stab wound, The blood withdrawing and disappearing into the gash. Anika screamed. When the others asked what was wrong, Anika revealed what she saw.

“You’re too high,” Marilyn said, running a hand through her rainbow hair. But Cathleen stood behind them, strawberry juice the color of blood on her mouth, back when Miles contacted her spirit. She came when summoned and manifested herself in the flesh.

Cathleen

My baby is gone

In an infant coffin underground

I wear black to mourn her

And place flowers on her grave

Miles embraces me in the cemetery

Where we have sandwiches and milk

He marvels as the food disappears from the plate

And the milk drains from the thermos

He can see me fresh as daylight

A rose haloed in gold

I am fragile dust and fairy winds and gilded blond hair

They find him dead the next day

By the gravesite of his daughter

His lips blue from the pills

His hair plastered to his head

In the spring rain

His indolent heart gave out and from her prison, Deirdre laughed at the television giving news of Mile’s suicide and the note he’d left:

I’ve gone to be with Cathleen, who drew me into hear heart forever, and our daughter Melanie’s, too. Deirdre couldn’t kill my love, though she tried very hard.

I saw Deirdre from the corner where I stood, staring at ladies dressed in orange watch the television and play cards. Now that I’m dead, I can go anywhere I want to in the world. I’ve explored the moors of England and I’ve been to Alaska, the northern lights illuminating the night sky and I didn’t feel the cold nor the heat of Death Valley, California. I flew and touched the top of the Eiffel Tower.

“Anything can be done in death, it’s like magic is yours after you die,” I told Miles.

Down he went with me and they buried us side by side. We go into earth, then Summerland, then back again. When I haunt the group home, I conjure nightmares for the girls who tormented me, especially June Freeland who told me I looked dressed as gaudily as she had for one of the snuff films her guardian she murdered made her do. I know many murderers: the worst of them being June and Marcelle. I read the evidence of Marcelle’s Drano murders in her journal and her revelations of sex with strange men who came when called by Nanny Cravat, Marcelle’s godmother. But something told me not to be a hypocrite and tell on her. I never had a mother like these girls. She abandoned me on the doorstop of St. Xavier’s Orphanage and Deirdre, the nun (she was a devout Catholic before she moved on to work for the hospital) who knew her sister’s face and knowing I was her niece, took me in and after years of her impossible violence and nagging, I am finally set free and better off, even if by her hand.

The Ouija Board

“Miles committed suicide,” said Marilyn to Marcelle. “It’s on the news.”

“Oh,” said Marcelle. “I bet Cathleen’s ghost dragged him down with her. Anika keeps seeing her everywhere and is freaking out.”

Anika was fast asleep in her room, having taken a dose of Haldol to help the hallucinations.

“But you aren’t hallucinating,” Cathleen had insisted when she came to Anika late at night. Sometimes she wore a nun habit like June, who had taken to smearing on red lipstick and blaring Courtney Love from the stereo. Sometimes, she sang opera with a crucifix dangling around her neck, and quite good. The girls loved listening to her sing her songs of lovers who lost their loved ones like Miles and Greek tragedies where Persephone became trapped for six months in Hades with the Lord of the Underworld and six months on earth. Gods and monsters fighting their battles to the death. The Ouija board they used to summon Cathleen worked. Anika revealed the messages to them of their conversation she heard in her head. Anika directed the board marker’s movement in their hands.

“Cathleen, where are you?” Anika asked, finally facing her fear of the unknown.

“In Summerland, with Miles,” was the reply.

Anika spelled it on the board and all were shocked.

“I knew it was real, like heaven but better than clouds and angels playing harps, waiting at the gates to judge you,” Anika said. “In Summerland there is no judgment, or pain or violence. Just love, laughter and magic. I learned all about the theory of the afterlife in Summerland from a Wiccan book I found in the used bookstore downtown.”

“Are you sure it isn’t fake, Anika?” Asked June, who doubted the paranormal.

“I heard her voice, just the way it was when she was alive!” Anika stormed out of the room, offended by June’s remark. The Ouija board remained still. Out of all of the girls, Cathleen found Anika most vulnerable to her presence. Cathleen enjoyed scaring them a little. But she never spoke to June, who ascended the staircase with a boy from the nearby prep school, holding a candelabra and smoking a Marlboro cigarette. Marilyn played 20 Questions with Anika in their room and listened to her account of what she read in Marcelle’s journal.

“I saw too,” said Cathleen. “She sent people to their death same as insane June. I wonder what sort of terrorism Deirdre endured at a young age.”

“Probably witnessed something violent, or had no parents like you. I didn’t,” said Marcelle, who stood behind them listening and hearing Cathleen’s voice just like Anika.

Deirdre

High on a precious hill stands my home for abandoned, unstable girls.

I can’t return to it.

I’m in prison garb in the women’s prison surrounded by barbed wire and a river runs past, saturated in pollutants spilled by the nearby plants and factories.

I used to be a nun, then a nurse, mercy-killing the elderly, smothering infants and pretending they died of SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome), immune to the wails of inconsolable parents informed by the doctor in the corridor.

I spent my early childhood in a ramshackle farmhouse in Louisiana, smothered by my mother and her hot back coffee thrown in my face. How her knives danced before my eyes. My baby brother died when I was fourteen. I hated babies. My mother told me to kill it, it was a sickly, weak little boy and wouldn’t last the year. I fed him to a hungry feral cat and watched the skin like ribbon over her bones from the cat’s carnivorous snacking. My mother, a widow always in grey with shadows under her eyes the color of her sweater, watched the baby’s decomposition.

I felt an affinity for June the most out of all the girls in my home. We had killed and had bad mothers who abused our bodies and sucked our souls out through crazy straws, leaving us bereft and insane. I couldn’t plead insanity the way June could, though.

I wish I were out of this stale air and away from these women, with their murderous stairs and rancid shouting, their fights that lead them to solitary. I won’t put a hand on these women. I won’t go to solitary.

June

I murdered this whole neighborhood besides Clinton and Mary Milton and their twin son and daughter. The parents went to prison for murder, and the kids live somewhere else now. The house is vacant.  I never enjoyed what Scarlett made me do. They housed me in an asylum, where I spent the majority of my time in restraints staring at the ceiling with vacant eyes and Medusa coils in my hair that snarled on the pillow.

I dreamt of black widows biting me and in my dreams, Deirdre, who worked there at the time as a psychiatric nurse, didn’t tend to my bites that reddened on my hand. When I wasn’t dreaming, Deirdre liked me. Now she’s in prison where she belongs. I no longer handle nitric acid or kill people or endure stiff baseball bats tearing open my cunt.

Scarlett watched my defiling from behind the camera, recording the rapes in the dark room. I was smothered in her cellar and remembered it, screaming, spitting out the pills, refusing to take them. Deirdre heard my whole story, decided to move into the old Freeland estate and take over as group home director. I moved out of my trailer to stay there. It’s weird I should live here after killing someone here. I used to hallucinate Blithe, who I shot and killed, but I don’t see her lately. I dismiss Anika despite my own experience. Sometimes, the ghost of Cathleen gets old as a topic and I think all should  remember the living and forget the dead that can’t reach us, gone to nether realms.

But what if she was there? What if she can reach us?

I’ll never know. One day I’ll be a ghost myself. I have faith that there is something prettier to see than this insidious earth after our bodies run out of time and our souls transcend.

There must be something better than what I had, what Marcelle had, what Cathleen had, what all of us had.

I think I just heard a voice. Is it the still, small voice of God, or is it a spirit coming from some divine region, holy or unholy?

I am a combined angel and demon. I want to drink absinthe and sleep with that voice.

[playermagic23]

1 Year of Gadar 2 EXCLUSIVE: Anil Sharma claims, "I told Sunny Deol that you deserved to charge Rs. 50 crores each project. This film will help you attain that."; discloses that his next project with Nana Patekar is named Vanwaas: A Journey Of Life.

August 11 marked the one-year anniversary of the all-time hit Gadar 2. On this wonderful occasion, its director, Anil Sharma, spoke exclusively to Bollywood Hungama about the much-loved sequel, his relationship with Sunny Deol, and his upcoming flicks.

Time flies. I can't believe it's been a year since the pandemonium unleashed by Gadar 2. (Laughs) Ji Bilkul. Aisa lag raha hai, bas kal hi ki baat!

How has your life altered after Gadar 2? Is the industry viewing you differently now? Public ki pyaar toh kal bhi tha, aaj hai. However, the perspectives of some people in the industry have undoubtedly shifted, as is unavoidable when one achieves success. Some perspectives shift when you fail. But, personally, I believe that main pehle mast tha and aaj mast hoon. There is no change in my life. The only change since Gadar 2 is that I used to do one film every two to three years. But when Gadar 2 was out, I immediately began production on my next film, which stars Nana Patekar and Utkarsh Sharma. Its shoot is already concluded.

Sunny Deol's life has altered in one year, and people have understood that he is a force to be reckoned with. Do you feel good that you played a part in his comeback? When I told Sunny sir about Gadar 2, I said, "You should do this film." You deserve to charge Rs. 50 crores per project. This film will assist you in achieving that goal.

The film was in such high demand that screenings began at 3:00 a.m. I awoke at 7:30 a.m., and I had no notion. My wife told me about it and showed me videos of the chaos in the cinemas. She had tears in her eyes. Mere aankh mein bhi aansoo gaye. I called Sunny, sir. He was also viewing videos. 'Ho gaya na?' I asked. He responded, 'Haan, ho gaya'! It was an emotional experience for us. Sunny sir deserves it because he's always been a celebrity. But people assess stardom based on box office performance, and I don't blame them.

Except for me, no one in the industry could have predicted Gadar 2 would be such a monumental success. I emailed Zee Studios a week before its release, stating that "Gadar 2 would collect Rs. 500 crores." I told them the same thing when I signed the contract with them. Mujhe bharosa tha iswar pe. Aur ishwar ne baat rakh di. If God wills, man will succeed. And the individual believes he is accountable for it.

According to sources, your next film with Nana Patekar and Utkarsh Sharma is named Journey to Vanwaas. Is this true? The film's title is Vanwaas: A Journey Through Life. The title Vanwaas is fitting for the film. In the Ramayana, the father sends his son to Vanwaa. Nowadays, it works the other way around. Har ghar mein vanwaas ho rahe hai.

 Vanwaas: A Journey of Life is an emotional drama. My previous films include Shradhanjali (1981), Bandhan Kuchchey Dhaagon Ka (1983), and Apne (2007). This film is in that zone. Many people asked me, 'Aap action film kyun nahin kar rahe hai?'. I used to say, 'Main woh film kar raha hoon jo mujhe banani hai'. Vanwaas mein feelings ka gadar hai, and I want to show them to the audience. It's the most relevant story of today, based on what's going on with the elderly in society. It features one of Nana Patekar's best performances. The scenes between Nana and Utkarsh are breathtaking! Duniya dekhegi iss film mein ki performance ka level kya hai.

When is it scheduled to be released? We intend to release it before the end of 2024. We'll set the date in September.

Are there any updates on Gadar 3? Work on Gadar 3 is underway. Jab mere paas emotion ka atom bomb ayega, tab main phodunga!

You mentioned that you had money concerns with Gadar 2. That would not be the case with Gadar 3, right?

Yes, it is within budget! What about apne 2? It is in the pipeline.

What plans do you have for Independence Day? I wish you and all of our readers a wonderful Independence Day. Many revolutions and sacrifices were made in the hope of a brighter future. It's critical that people understand this and love their country. As for my plans, I intend to watch an excellent patriotic film, perhaps one featuring Manoj Kumar.

[gothicprep]

to further detail what I really liked about this:

one thing i think is really special is seeing a superior version of something that’s been done endlessly. for example, plenty of artists are capable of writing pop songs, but when you hear something like “wouldn’t it be nice” by the beach boys, it dawns on you how difficult it is to do something like this well. the format has no limits of its possibilities, it just takes takes the right eye to see them.

nolan has played around with themes like memory, time, identity, and nuclear anxiety before, but admittedly his movies are entertainment first. they’re thrillers or fictional dramas. but him take his directorial techniques and apply them to a biopic – easily the most white bread, predictable, clockwork genre – the end result is really special. it’s like seeing for the first time what a medium can truly do.

yes, it does follow the three act structure, but the second act ends with the trinity test – both a scientific triumph and arguably the lowest point in all of humanity. not to mention it’s filmed with an imax, which makes a security clearance hearing in a small room, the most boring and bureaucratic thing you can imagine, feel monumental. not to mention the use of non-linear structure and occasionally surreal visual effects to convey that this is all taking place in oppenheimer’s memory while he waits to receive his fermi award, with the black and white distinguishing parallel events happening outside of it.

like. it’s not that I don’t have quibbles about this. it’s nolan. his movies always have dialogue that’s a bit thematically on the nose. and it’s annoying that the music is too damn loud in some of the normal scenes where it isn’t necessary. but he fucking knocked it out of the park with this one! it’s easily his best movie.

not to mention that there were some really cool historical easter eggs hidden in here. you have isidor rabi saying how he doesn’t want three centuries of physics to culminate as a weapon of mass destruction, “we’ve struck kyoto from the list because of its historical and cultural value to the japanese people, and also because my wife and i honeymooned there,” and of course “[he] didn’t drop the bomb. i did”. all of these are real quotes. not to mention blink-if-you-miss-them scenes that show the physicists’ real quirks, like oppenheimer salting the rim of his martini glass, or feynman using a severed car door as a shield in the pre-trinity explosive tests. it’s SO good.

wife & I saw oppenheimer. i liked it a lot. the attention to detail in it is INSANE. she thought it was alright, but found it sort of difficult to follow at times.

so, would recommend, but it helps to go into it with some knowledge of the manhattan project and the people involved in it for clarity’s sake. it covers a ton of ground and the story is told non-linearly.

my one really big complaint about it, though, is that the sound engineering is sort of a mess. there’s this bombastic hans zimmer style score playing over so much of it, to the point where it sometimes completely overpowers the dialogue.

[complicatedkiwi13]

To Love

Prompt: Harry and Y/n are big fans of each other.

Word Count: 1.5k+

Warning: None?

Raindrops drizzled on to Y/N’s perfectly curated outfit for the show tonight. She had worked hard on a few indie films and is in the process of starring in one with her long time friend and well known director, Y/BFF/N. She’s good friends with Florence Pugh and have been on numerous of the same projects. When Florence invited Y/BFF/N to her co-star, Harry Styles, concert in Brazil, where they happen to be filming, it was a no brainer to Y/BFF/N ask her to come along. 

Y/BFF/N had always known how big of a fan Y/N is of Harry, or H from what Florence calls him. There’s been times in serious conversations that they have that Y/N just had to slip in a Harry lyric or her not being able to hear the knocks on the trailer due to the volume she has Harry playing. 

Harry has been obsessed with Y/N’s work. He thinks she is such a powerful actress with great intention behind each scene and he can’t help but love her pretty face. When he found out that Florence was friends with Y/BFF/N and you two were well acquainted, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if Flo was going to bring you both. 

All of that leads to Y/N being at her favorite artist’s show in her favorite weather and one of the best things she’s ever worn. Florence has been kind enough to loan her a midnight blue dress that ended right before the knee that she paired with black fleece lined tights and classic converse with a nice jacket from her latest for warmth. Y/BFF/N was in a black trousers, Florence’s Love On Tour shirt, and a blazer while Florence opted for a black Pleasing crewneck over a floral Midi Dress and a pair of docs. 

Her outfit wasn’t anything out of the ordinary but it was just the fact that she’s wearing during this monumental time that makes it her favorite. 

They all watched Koffee open in awe. She just has this big appreciation for music. Music just digs and there's always a song for every situation. She thinks that this very moment is definitely a What A Feeling moment. Y/N is in awe. It's all so incredible and obscene. 

When Harry entered on stage, Florence laughed at how Y/N immediately froze, mesmerized by the shirtless man on stage. 

Y/N couldn’t help but look at his abs, how defined they are and how they would feel under her nails. 

Harry could feel her eyes on him and he liked it. Even though he was too shy to make eye contact just yet, he decided to put on a show. Shimmering his hips and being a little extra bold to make Y/N’s time worthwhile. 

“Boa Noite, Brazil! I am Harry and I’m here to entertain you for the next 90 minutes. I hope you have fun and feel safe to be who you are. Te Amo Brazil!” he said as he made his way towards Y/n’s side of the stage. 

“I have a few friends here tonight, can we give them a warm welcome?” Harry said as the  crowd cheered.

“Alright! That's enough!” Harry continues to repeat as Florence, Y/N, and Y/BFF/N wave as they are projected onto the big screens briefly. 

Harry continued the show and focused a lot of attention onto Y/N’s side of the stage. He couldn’t stray away from her beauty and was feeling bold, giving her a wink as well as blowing her a kiss during Love of My Life. He thought that she was beautiful and it made him want to pause and stare.

He did exactly that during Watermelon Sugar. Y/N couldn’t help but blush. HIs dance moves were exaggerated and little does she know, it's all for her. Florence and Y/BFF/N were amused the whole show. Flo knew how Harry felt and filled Y/BFF/N in on it. They just can’t wait to see it all unfold. 

Harry thanks his fans one last time before doing the whale at the end of Kiwi.As he rushes backstage, Florence grabs Y/N’s wrist and does the same.

She was confused but still followed her. Why are we going backstage, she thought.

Well it turns out that she actually said that outloud and Florence had to explain how H wanted to go out after the show, completely abnormal for him on tour. 

They all see Harry backstage, still on his adrenaline high, and he runs to give Flo a bone shattering hug. He shakes Y/BFF/N’s  hand and introduces himself before yours.

“Hi. I’m Harry. I hoped you enjoyed the show,” he giggled, feeling a spark as your skin touched his,”I’m a really big fan of yours,” He paused and furrowed his brows before letting out a breathy laugh and apologizing for how that may come off as creepy. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Y/N smiled, “I found it endearing. And thank you for having me. You were incredible up there.”

“You should be more worried about letting Y/N backstage, she’s a crazy big fan. LOVES your work,” Y/BFF/N said, earning a playful swat on the arm from you.

Blood immediately rushed to her cheek and she heard Harry’s cheeky laugh. 

“Is that right?” Harry asked with a cheshire cat smile, “My ego would love to hear all about it later tonight if you’re going out with us.”

Y/N looked at Florence and she had a ‘I told you so’ look on her face. 

“Yeah. Why not, ” she said as everyone else cheered. 

Harry had somehow convinced her to ride with him. She didn’t think that it would mean that he would drive. Florence and Y/BFF/N ended up driving the car they all took to the concert to the bar on the other side of town, so it was just her and Harry.

“You may be good on stage but I can’t say the same on the road” Y/N said in a serious tone that Harry knew was the complete opposite. 

With an playfun offended look on his face, “Oi! Give me a break! I just gave you a show and I'm driving you around an unfamiliar city.” 

“All I hear are excuses,” Y/N exclaimed, shrugging her shoulders and getting out of the parked car. 

Harry’s hand falls on her lower back as they make their way inside. Everyone had already gotten there. Harry got lost a few times, even with GPS. They make their way to the table before Harry asks what she wanted from the bar. Y/N went with her usual, a dry martini. 

She had gotten lost in her conversation with Sarah and didn’t even notice that Harry was back with their drinks and had been staring at her. Everyone else at the table noticed, so they thought it was a good time to play pool and darts in the back. 

As Sarah said her goodbyes and headed to the back with Mitch, Y/N looked over at Harry to see that his eyes were already on her. She blushed but also noticed that the beautiful man in front of her only had chips and what seems to be a club soda in front of him. 

“You’re not drinking tonight,” Y/N asked. 

“I don’t usually drink while touring. Just try to concentrate on being the best version of myself every night. I need to take care of myself so that I can give them the best every night, ” Harry explained.

“That’s actually very sweet,” Y/N said as she sipped her drink. She found it charming how much he cared and saw it earlier that night. “Why did you even want to go out tonight then?” she asked.

“Why not!” he laughed. 

“So you just wanted to go out to a random bar in a completely different country after stealing the hearts of thousands at your stadium show?’’ she chuckled. 

“Yup! Though I only wanted to steal the heart of one person in the crowd,” Harry said, leaning into the table to get closer to Y/N with his fingers folded. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. They may or may not be right in front of me,” Harry whispered. He just wanted to put how he felt on the table to see what happens. You only live once. 

“Interesting,” Y/N said, taking another sip of her drink, feeling an extra boost of confidence. She whispered into his ear, leaving HArry stunned. She walked towards the exit before Harry let out a breathy laugh. He  said goodbye to their friends, telling them that Y/N wasn’t feeling well and that he was going to take her back to her hotel since he was the most sober one, and quickly followed her out of the door. 

As believable as Harry thought his little white lie was, Florence, Y/BFF/N, and the rest of the band placed a bet on how long they will continue what they started that night for before they start dating. 

As everyone got their final drink for the night, ”Let’s all cheers to Y/N and Harry,” FLorence suggested. 

“To falling in love,” everyone cheered as they clink their glasses and head their own ways like Harry and Y/N. 

[darlingshane]

Sam Rossi x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+ // Content/Warnings: Explicit, Smut, Blow Jobs, Oral Fixation, Couch Sex.

WC: 1,036 // Prompt: Netflix & Chill.

Summary: Sam is trying to watch a movie; you have other plans in mind.

A/N: This is my first contribution to Bernthirst Spring Fling @bernthirst-events​. Let this be the beginning of a very smutty week with Sam in this blog :P

The Sweetest Distraction

“Would you stop that?” Sam chuckles, having you nibbling at his earlobe and playing with his curls while you watch TV on the couch.

It's movie night and the film you've chosen from the Netflix catalog is not doing a good job capturing your attention, hardly any of them ever do. About twenty minutes in, you tuck your legs over Sam's lap, threading his hair with your fingers, and let your lips and hands steal his interest from the flick.

“What? Stop this?” you suck his earlobe into your mouth and release it; then run your nails on his scalp, “or this?”

“Everything that you're doing right now. You're a menace.”

“Am I now?”

“You know you are, sweetheart. You do this every time you say you wanna watch a movie, and I always fell for it. I get invested and halfway through, you distract me like this, and I never get to see how it ends.”

You shrug, amused, “have you ever heard about the term Netflix and Chill?”

“'Course I have… I'm old, but I'm not that old,” he scoffs, reaching out with his hand to grab the phone from the coffee table to press pause on the app, “but just for once I'd like to get till the end.”

“Alright,” you pat his shoulder twice, and remove your hands off him at once, “I didn't know you were such a film buff. You wanna watch, go ahead, but I can tell you right now that the movie is not going to be nearly as interesting as what I wanted to do with you.”

Then, you promptly stand up to get a drink from the kitchen, but he quickly grabs your hand, pulling you back down onto his lap, with one arm secured around your hips, and the opposite hand framing your jaw.

“That's how you like to play, huh?” Sam's sweet, chocolate browns shed a spicier shade when he captures your gaze, “you can't say that and then leave without telling what you had in mind, sweetheart.”

Grinning big, you wet your lips, leaving him in suspense for a moment, “well, I was thinking of something that starts with a… Brazen B, and it's followed by a Juicy J.”

“Hmm,” his thumb brushes your bottom lip back and forth a few times, stating, “you're quite the temptress.”

“Maybe I am,” you purr, sucking his thumb into your mouth, pressing your lips and teeth above his knuckle, capturing the salty pad of his thumb that tastes like popcorn on the plane of your tongue.

He pulls it out of your mouth, nice slow, as one of your hands slides at the back of his hair, running your nails at his nape, harder than before, aware of how much that turns him on.

“Say, what's gonna be, old man?”

“I guess the movie can wait.” He lets out a long, pleased sight, head lolling at the stimuli as your fingers reach the curve of his neck.

Not wasting a second, Sam takes a good hold of your hips then, coaxing you to shift your position, so you're straddling his lap instead.

You draw some air and tilt your face closer to his, your noses bumping together, before seizing the taste of his lips.

Kissing him sensually, your tongue swims smoothly with his, as you bury all your fingers in his curly mop, grabbing fistfuls in a moment of passion when the kiss grows more heated.

His palms are spread across your legging-covered ass, desperately pressing you down to grind against the straining building up behind his jeans.

When you're ready, you break from his mouth and undo the buttons of his shirt, leaving a trail of open-mouth kisses down the valley of his chest, on your way down to the floor, where you kneel between his feet.

Locking eyes with him, your deft fingers work swiftly– unclasping his belt, unzipping his pants, and pulling back his underwear to uncover his monumental erection.

You curl your palm around the underside of his cock and collect some spit in your mouth in order to wet his dry skin before making any hasty movements.

He watches you, enraptured, behind the sheer gloss that has formed above his irises.

The eye contact is broken when your head bows, lips wrapping slacked around the flare of his head, letting the copious amount of saliva run freely down his length.

You use your hand to spread it all the way around, as you start working your tongue. It's then that he pushes his hair back and lets his head fall back against the edge of the couch, enjoying the depth of your mouth as it swallows him, almost, whole.

Sam's not big on dirty talk or praises, but he does let out a few curses at your name. Sometimes he just breathes in delight that – sweetheart – that you love so much.

He doesn't push you to go faster either, but both his palms frame either side of your head, following your pace.

The way he throbs and tastes in your mouth has you aching badly at your core as you take him deeper; having him surrender with ease at the mercy of your lips, nearing that sweet edge.

Without even thinking about it, as your head bobs faster, you part your knees and shove your free hand between your legs, pressing as hard as you can over two layers of fabric, making yourself moan lewdly around him, letting that be the catalyst that makes his cock twitch and fill your mouth.

You climb back to the couch, while his breath catches, cuddling against him as one of his arms curls around you, hand cradling the back of your head.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he says coarsely when he can speak again, flashing that adorable, post-blow job smile, “that was…”

You trap your bottom lip beneath your bare teeth, proud of having him sated, basking in his afterglow while he trails off.

“Was that a good distraction, then?” you question; knowing the answer.

“Oh, that was the sweetest distraction, baby,” he sighs, slowly coming down from his high, “give me a minute, yeah?” I'll take care of you as soon as I can move.”

[canyouhearthevoices]

HALAZIA: First Reactions

Many people are, justifiably so, saying this is a HALAteez song. At this point I am pretty convinced that actually, we haven’t seen any HALAteez yet, and that FEVERteez are their own thing, same with TEH WORLDteez (who need a better name). I imagine that one of them (most likely THE WORLDteez) become HALAteez after some kind of disaster/failure. I’m still on the ‘Precious’ hype train.

The thing i found most fascinating about this one (other than the world losing gravity) was the monument to HALAteez - perhaps the people of the city, and/or the underground movement, remember HALAteez and the good they did, and thus semi-worship them? It’s also kind of funny that it is positioned like a scarecrow and possibly scares away the Guardians/government. It also has banners and chains hung over and around it like Nepalese prayer flags, which i found interesting. 

I also wonder why the old man (I think his name is One-Eye?) doesn’t show up here.

Anyway, I’ll just point out the things my film student brain noticed - full initial reactions below the line.

The same megaphones from previous MVs - correct me if wrong but I think they showed up in The Real and THANXX?

When I die I want a HALAteez scarecrow over my gravestone - not some angel.

This is one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.

This is what I mean about it looking like a scarecrow and Nepalese prayer flags. The megaphone are also, of course, key to ATEEZ breaking the control the government has over people, and are used to play their music. 

This space mirrors the round building they were in in Guerrilla, but it’s not the same place I don’t think. Eithe way, it’s in the process of being destroyed, and this is our first image of gravity being a bit kooky. The impression that this gave me was that the government restricting people’s thoughts and feelings was so wrong that even the laws of nature started to go a bit haywire too. Or perhaps it is just another indication of the Cromer and its misuse/being broken destroying the world slowly. Think the dimension convergences and the gravity issues they created in Thor: The Dark World.

And Hwa is of course with the statue and the other followers of ATEEZ.

Please no this reminds me of the Maze Runner. Anyway, San (sue me I can’t quite recognise the members by silhouette despite my best efforts) is not having a fun time in this abandoned shopping centre (?) I mean shopping centres don’t ever seem to exist in dystopia for some reason - perhaps because they’re so essential to capitalism and a lot of dystopias emphasise dictatorships only? Either way, it’s dead. I don’t like that this leads me on the path of thinking ATEEZ think capitalism is good, however, I would agree that it is, to some degree, a form of self-expression which would also be stamped out by this government.

It also has this ball which floats because of kooky gravity - does anyone have any clue what this is except for it reminding me of the ball-shaped megaphone/speakers from Guerrilla?

It’s a horrid screenshot, but I spy with my little eye the room from ‘Answer’ - another connection to HALAteez (and Treasureteez but tbh I wonder if we’ll ever see them again).

I’m liking the Woo lone-wolf thing - it again reminds me of him knowing things and possibly being some sort of traitor. And of course, I don’t think anyone missed the Black Pirate hat he has (found???).

And of course the HALAteez flag.

Earthbender Yunho?!?!?!?!

More gravity, and note the speakers in the back. This is also a very royal-toned scene, with the gold chair and columns, but the sand makes it seem like this kingdom is past its prime. Also, can we just imagine a flashback to every time Yunho has been on a chair in a wonderous set in ATEEZ Mvs?

There’s definitely something up with Yeosang (but we all knew that). He’s been imprisoned and left alone a lot - this makes me think that he was chained before he became the symbol of peace from The Real. But nevertheless, he is chained - just like the HALAteez monument, and he watches the city burn. Or maybe it’s just pollution and Strictland loves its coal - it probably does, actually. 

Note that the background is all grey, but near Yeosang there are bits of grass and other plants. A key theme throughout ATEEZ’s Strictland journeys is that they have most of the colour in the MV, while the city is largely in grey - we can see this in the gold of Yunho’s scene, the cream colours from the ‘Answer’ set, and the grass in San’s scene + the matching gold of Seonghwa and the HALAteez statue. This also alligns with them calling the world a ‘grey city’. Or was that TXT? Shit, the struggles of following storylines with similar themes.

I’m certain they both used that description at one point - it’s just that TXT used it metaphorically and ATEEZ used it literally. 

Jongho gets to be the head of an army this time. I despise the weird white-eye effect they did on him - that’s the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Reblog of he’ll appear in your room at night.

Oooooh yeah, Woo.

He knows something. But we also knew that.

 I just love this shot.

Again - he is the only colour, other than the green building (which reminds me of a toilet block) and is also very close to him.

Yunho vision time. Being seen through the eyes of the Guardians? Or did he just eat some shrooms?

There are either pictures being taken or lightning going off as Hwa becomes the Black Pirate. Very dramatic - either the photographers or the lightning sends a cool message. 

And please do note the Jesus imagery.

Omg they’re all there. From here the ball reminds me of the earth, but it has been smothered by grey - pollution and the loss of individuality and the arts.

Omg okay.

Well Joong has his throne/stage - as he should. And, of course, note the broken telephone pole, the followers around him, and the broken down car - they’re also in the courtyard of the same building from San’s scene (and presumably the rest of the MV). The colour literally frames and backs him up. 

He also has his Captain’s mark.

Mingi also shows up in the ‘Answer’ scene and is wearing gloves and a black hat - they’re not quite the same as the HALAteez ones, but that’s not the point.

I love this shot of him. He is, again, surrounded by and makes the colour, with his hair. Also note the ‘freedom’ written on the side of the monument, and that the base is surrounded by speakers.

I am IN LOVE with the ink staining on Mingi’s fingers - it’s a symbol of a writer and a creative, but also potentially of someone who is going a little crazy. Does anyone know how to do this? I want to wear my fingers like this if I get an opportunity to go to an ATEEZ concert.

Well, rip for Yunho sitting in a chair. He still gets to sit though, and this mirrors a similar angle shot from ‘Say My Name’ (and also of Yeosang in INCEPTION and Turbulence).

Omg I’m only halfway through the MV.

I know that this is just where the statue is kept, but this makes me think that Yeosang is going to fight in the Colosseum - which I imagine is something that the director of the MV considered.

So now we have three of them with the statue - Yeosang, the symbol of peace/prisoner, Mingi, who was by himself in The Real, and Seonghwa, arguably the most powerful member. 

Omg Woo, why?!?!!?

Traitorous behaviour, my dude.

Perhaps the black pirates weren’t able to fulfil their quest - or they are moving on to the next step.

Okay, they’re all there now. But it’s also a dance scene, so the importance is debatable.

I do love the choreo tho.

Yes, Yunho, arson is the way to go.

Dang, okay, something really went wrong with the Black Pirates, and I guess this version of ATEEZ are taking over. 

All of the followers are trying to pull the earth down again - to protect it? Destroy it? Heal it or something else? Goodness knows with ATEEZ. I never thought they’d burn a monument to the Black Pirates but here we are.

Is edgy Joong with a mic my favourite Joong? No and it’s not close, but I still like it.

Dang okay San.

Note the water - which is often used in the storyline to show that something is a dream. Especially when it’s also with my dude San.

He’s gonna die!

Alright, nevermind. What was the point of that? Was the ball just a dream?

Perhaps he’s just reached enlightenment, or become the demon.

It starts (snowing?) and these dudes, who I assume are from the government, turn up, too late. Makes me think that the ball thing was some type of MacGuffin.

But we do see that there is at least one bird left alive in this world, which is definitely a good sign.

And that’s it! An interesting piece of music and art to say the least. 

As far as the lyrics - they are relatively typical - they have lost their voices, they have lost their emotions and need to fight to get their freedoms back, they want to reach utopia and feel the actual sun and waves, and to have actual dreams and the freedom to follow them. 

I’m feeling a prequel to HALA HALA, since they talk about wanting to be alive, but the whole point of HALA HALA is that they are alive (until the song is over....)

And no one still has any clue what HALAZIA stands for - I would honestly be surprised if ATEEZ know, either.

What do you think? I love hearing other theories!

[darke15]

Rhymieeee 😬😬😬 @rhymingtree

Based on prior hinting I know this one is going to hurt but I must soldier through the fear of emotional torture.

I already know you’re gonna be pissed 😀

And, in truth, he was thankful that she’d kept him alive this long. The men on this mission wouldn’t have kept him alive. Nor would they have listened to him.

You have a veeery funny way of expressing gratitude, Walsh.

He really does. Thanks for saving my life so many times…now I’m gonna end yours 😀

I'm wondering how they'd film all of this if it were a show... if they were to show the events from Ghost and Ollie's perspectives separately, how would they do it

👀👀👀

And knowing MCU and their weird secrecy, how would they hid it from the actors themselves what their scene partners would be doing... or would they really hide it that much? Would Ollie's actor be made aware of his character's intentions from the very start or would they let him play out the innocent inexperienced newbie, before dropping the bomb on him right before Ollie takes off Ghost's helmet in the Tower?

Listen, if I was in charge of the Aftermath Project, whoever played Walsh would know who he was right off the bat [kinda like alan rickman] everyone else wouldn’t know until the mask came off. 

Seems extreme to keep all of that in the dark for that long, but Feige has resorted to a lot of extremes to keep things under wraps, so…

Feige can kiss my ass 

I'm thinking for all the Wraith scenes where it's just his modulated voice, they'd have the other actors say the dialog in the scene and Wraith's lines would be VO'd... to make it trippier they could have Danny's actor VO him (and credit him) so no one would suspect Ollie at all. Kinda like how they did the Mandalorian, other people were in the suit and Pedro was cozy in the booth.

I would have the actors for Danny and Weston and Ollie do voice overs for Wraith and have them all compiled together. Danny’s would shine out a lil more but not too much but I wouldn’t credit any of them. 

BUT there would be a ‘leak’ of pictures of their actors on set 😈

I just realized Ghost's actor would either have lots of stunt doubles to do all the batshit crazy things she does... or she'd have to be played by Tom Cruise, who literally can do all the shit she does.

😂😂😂

But seeing Tom Cruise be lovey dovey with Sebastian Stan is not a fun mental image in my book. So the latter is an immediate no.

Noooooooooooooooo 😭😭😭

What the fuck, Oliver? Why are you tryna unhook straps in midair? You really wanna try and kill her now when your life is equally on the line?

He’s a douchebag, what can i say?

I think this was a missing piece to one of the puzzles you're tryna solve, Buckaroo. Just gotta slot it in and look at the bigger picture now.

He’s getting closer 

I'm terrified. Just so you know.

Good 😀

Ooh, why does Novak always write with a red pen?

Reminds me of blood. 

That’s it. 

That’s the reason

awww Jack went with Spidey to his second favorite building cuz he has something cool to show him???

They gonna be besties 

Yup. Now you're in charge of the child. You are his guardian and mentor. You are the Mando to his Grogu, the Joel to his Ellie.

😂😂😂

And if you know what happens to Joel at the end of the games, WELL. We don't talk about THAT.

😀😀😀

Honestly, Peter was far too unsupervised in his movies. Grown ups are so fuckin stupid.

IIIII KNOWWWWWWWWWWW 

His voice dropped to a whisper as he relaxed back with a shake of his head, “Don’t throw her around like that.”

Ow. Darke what the heck 

Wot? 😬

“You got this, Spider-Man. I’ll keep an eye on the city.”

Welp. This'll end well. Very well.

So.... sooooo well

Like, top of the Washington Monument well.

It’s gonna be great 😅

He swore he saw a shadow dart into the building, he swore he saw yellow eyes dip back into the darkness.

Nah man, that's just a really big rat, don't worry about it. Just Remy looking for a really big chef to control.

Don’t bring ratatouille into this 

Or... it is the chef already being controlled by a rat?

Here we go 🤨

omg was Remy the rat a HYDRA scientist

if you're wondering, yes I'm reading this at 2 am. Now you know why my brain went down that road

😬😬😬

“She’s going after you first.” Walsh paused, looking into the building after him, “Does that mean you want to lead?” “Nope,” he said with a curt shake of his head, “I’ll let her have you first.” “Great.”

I hate how funny they actually are together. It's inconvenient for them to have this kind of chemistry.

Right? I think it goes to show how manipulative Ollie is, which then leads into why the Avengers are falling for him. He really does act like a nice guy…

I wanna see fanart of Ghost with Perseus' orange glow in her eyes, like Jinx with the purple shimmer in her irises.

Saaaaaaammmeeeeeeeeee 

Omg what if her tears are orange too... unlikely, but a very cool visual 

Cool vis

But Bucky couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t hurt her.

Haha the way this felt like a fucking sword through my fucking chest. 

Sorry 😀

“Familiar, Ollie?”

Cinematic moment worthy of epic tiktok edits right there 

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i wish aftermath was reallllllll

“Doll,” he tried again, holding out a hand to keep her at bay, “Listen to me.” Her jaw clenched as she shook her head, trying to circle past him and back to Walsh, “Move.” “Baby, please—” “I said move,” she snapped, not listening to him as she lurched toward him.

Idk how to react to any of this do I cry do I laugh do I cheer what do I do

DARKE WHAT DO I DO

I don’t knowwwww 😭

“Don’t,” he pleaded with her, trying to step after her as she slipped into the darkness, “Please.”

He sounds so broken and tired in my head... I don't like that.

I’m sorry 🙁

reminds me of a video essay on the last of us i saw that defined Joel's tragedy as sort of like the journey impedes the journey and it's like, his humanity is the main obstacle that keeps him from the goal

👀👀👀

Also did she just parkour her way up from rubble? Woah…

Yesh 

“We can figure this out,” he promised, letting a smile stretch across his face as his hand landed on her hip, “I can take you home right now. You don’t have to do anything. I promise.”

hahahahah im not crying you are fuck you

Wot did i do?

oh this is like the perfect moment for something bad to happen

No shit 😀

Darke I will be yelling at you later.

Yeah…i know 

NONONONONONONONO

NO

NO NONO NO

DARKE YOU BETTER NOT BE CHANTING YES

🙁🙁🙁 i tried really hard to not to 

The Soldier didn’t care about you—not this version, at least. But, you? You cared about every version of the Soldier. You couldn’t hurt him.

how dare you write this

Why are you yelling at me?

how dare you be this good

I’m so confused are we happy or mad at meeeeeee? 😭

it's irritating

it's heartbreaking

fuck you

Again?!? Am confused 😭

i need to binge watch bluey after this

I’mma need to watch it after reading this reaction 

OH MY GOD

DARKE 

WHAT NOW???

“Payback’s a bitch.” You forced a pained laugh as you glared up at him, “I didn't know your mom was here.”

Did you seriously just

I told you i would 

will I be holding a grudge against you after this... I don't know

🤨🤨🤨

Like Orpheus walking into the jaws of death for Eurydice, huh...

I wonder what song he'll sing this time. 

Oooooof fr fr 

PUTANG INANG GAGONG PUNYEMAS AYOKO NA PUTANGINANG TO NAKAKAPAGOD NA

Go to sleep 

Gusto ko na lang matulog forever.

Just take a nap, you’ll be fine 

I need to go stab a hole into a pillow or something

#darke&rhymie go to the rage room 

“You hurt her. I hurt you. You hunt her. I hunt you.”

The scariest hottest thing I have ever heard a man utter. 

Hell yeah

Oh. Hi Boone. Hahaha I forgot about you for a minute there. Sorry 'bout that.

Things have been really intense, she doesn’t mind that you forgot about her 

But Steve was different, he was…Good. A good man.

He's also the only normal person you have ever dated, but I won't hold that against you.

Honestly, it's a flex that the bar went from being in hell to being Captain fuckin' America. 

If only i could upgrade like that 

he was…Good. A good man.

Good in bed, too, you gotta factor that in. 

She’ll be reminded of that a lil later 

After they took down Walsh, she was going to take time off. She was going to put as much time and effort into him as he had into her.

Yeah but there's always something else coming next isn't there?

shhhhhhhhhh

Oh what's that? The sound of Asgardian ships being blown to bits in outer space? Wha... big purple alien with stones?

Nah that's nothing that's just sleep deprivation and hallucinations. Ignore it.

For like a year. Ignore it for a year. Then worry about the big purple alien's army descending from the sky in a donut shaped ship.

They’ve got like two…

Yep which is why he's... currently letting a fifteen year old spider child handle it.

Shhhhhhh he doesn’t get how teens work 

Maybe she needed a nap. Or a snack. Maybe both.

You talkin about Boone or me?

Yes 

Ugh. I wish I was falling in love with Steve Rogers too. 

Same 

Ummmm no no no

Yes yes yes 

haha no

Hahahahahaha yes

you are not going to New York

Yes him is 

NO

YES 

oh yay. the voices are back. Hello, Jekyll. Hello Hyde. Did you enjoy your short break from existence?

They did not

You’re weak. You couldn’t even finish it. You’re almost there. Stay strong.

You two are so confusing.

They rarely get along, surprisingly 

“Please,” you finally managed, cursing yourself for showing weakness in front of him as a tear rolled down your cheek and you licked your lips, “Please, it hurts.”

This reminds me of that one test some psychologists did in the midcentury. Highly unethical but garnered some interesting results. You've heard of it, Harlow's studies on maternal impact?

Ohhhhhhhh go on 

They put baby mobnkeys in social isolation, gave them surrogate inanimate mothers to see if they'd choose comfort over food? Warmth over survival?

Novak is the mother made of wires, and Ghost is the starving baby monkey. He's dangling her bottle of milk above her head.

Ughhhh this hurts

“Fascinating. It was your Agent Cavanaugh, I presume. We tried to recruit her once, she took three of my men’s fingers.”

wait wait wait 

HYDRA... disguised as what tried to recruit her?

And by she took three of my men's fingers, do you mean she took three fingers from your men or... she took an indefinite number of fingers from three men?

Yes 

"...All the pieces across the board will crumble. Everything we’ve built will be gone. Your family. Your friends. My inventions. Everything. You must destroy him before he destroys you.”

The way you write his dialogue is so interesting Darke I fuckin love it.

Thank you 😌 And thank you for quoting it because i found an error i had to correct for him 

He's referring to her family and her friends and his inventions collectively, as one? Like he's implying she wouldn't have any of it if he didn't allow it in the first place? Like even the good things she had found outside of his control were because of him?

She wouldn’t be alive without him, therefore, all of her victories, relationships, everything, is his. She belongs to him. 

Also, I don't know if this is how you've always written him and I just missed it, or if it's because Silco is an inspiration for him now, or if this is a tactic he's using but he feels a bit more paternal

He’s def leaning that way because of silco but he’s also playing with her a lil 

Why did he put in the effort to put a fuckin' bow on the box 

He may be a psychopath, but he’s also a gentleman…kind of 

"Kill him and we shall start over. Kill him and you may go home.”

It's never that simple, it's never that easy, he's lying he's lying he's lying he's lying 

👀😈👀

“I did not order the ambush that killed your family.”

MEREK

Ohhhhhh first name…he’s in troubleeeeee

You don't just drop a bomb like that now...

what the fuck

WHAT

HE'S LYING HE'S LYING HE'S LYING HE'S LYING

😈😈😈

The dogtags...

The rings. 

I warned you that this will hurt 

JAMES B. BARNES 32557038…

i thought i was done crying... 

You were wrong 

Go home. Rest, mi amor. You’ve done enough.

I THOUGHT I WAS DONE 

You were not 

Let’s go home, mi amor.

STOP 

Nerp 

I'm going to bed. And I'm never waking up again.

You better be…we have stuff to talk about 

CHAPTER 93: ACHILLES’ HEEL

To all my live reactors,

Please, please, please, hide your reactions under a Read More cut. I don’t want any spoilers floating around. 

&

To all my Anonymous Avengers, 

If you want to react in my asks, feel free. However, I won’t be answering any of them until at least Wednesday if they contain spoilers. 

Thank you,

Darke

┍━━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━━┑

You laughed, “You tryin’ to protect me?”

“If that is how you want to see it,” he said, taking off his glasses and cleaning them on a handkerchief, “Then yes.”

“It’s not.”

“Then no,” he chuckled, sliding his glasses back up his nose, “I am not protecting you. But that changes nothing, Ghostie.”

“Doesn’t it?”

He was towering over you before you even knew he moved, his frigid touch chilling you to the bone as he wrenched you up to look at him.

“Look at me,” he snarled, every bit of composure he had left melting away in an instant, “Everything you hold near and dear to your little black heart, Wraith will destroy. He will annihilate everything you love. Demolish everything you have built. His patience is running thin, it will not be long before this game of yours is over. All the pieces across the board will crumble. Everything we’ve built will be gone. Your family. Your friends. My inventions. Everything. You must destroy him before he destroys you.”

┕━━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━━┙

» CHAPTER 93: ACHILLES’ HEEL

✪ Bᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ Sᴄᴀʀʀᴇᴅ : Aғᴛᴇʀᴍᴀᴛʜ

♜♠ Tʜᴇ Sᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ & Tʜᴇ Sᴘʏ

⧗ Tʜᴇ Rᴇᴅ Rᴏᴏᴍ

☞ Bᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ Sᴄᴀʀʀᴇᴅ: Oʀɪɢɪɴs

»Jᴏɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇ sɪᴅᴇ Tᴀɢʟɪsᴛ

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