#kenneth peach

[pfctipper]

ABOVE: Captain Andrew Haldane [left] instructs Lieutenant Thomas 'Stumpy' Stanley in the use of the Garand M1 semi-automatic rifle | BELOW: Extracts from letters printed in Bill Sloan, Brotherhood of Heroes: The Marines at Peleliu (2005)

V-mail to Bowdoin College President Kenneth Sills, Brisbane, 6 January 1943: ‘At present, I am taking a back seat & it seems good to get a night's sleep now & then. Gosh I wish I could tell you more but I'm afraid I might make some slight infraction of the regulations which is very serious.'

Letter to his sister Janet, Melbourne, 31 January 1943: ‘The women here are very fast. They are big gals & they can handle themselves very well. These girls remind me a great deal of the American girls. The other night I met a shop welder and she had bigger arms than mine. Some of the boys come back with the weirdest takes. One of my men took out a wrestler & she wasn't bad at all. What a life.’

Letter to Sills, New Guinea, 29 November 1943: 'I've often thought of what I could do after this war game is over and I've come to the conclusion that I would much rather be a civilian. It won't be long now for press reports as you know are very encouraging.'

Letter to former Bowdoin College football coach Adam Walsh, following the Cape Gloucester campaign: 'I can sincerely say your instruction and guiding ways have helped me greatly in this task I have of leading men.'

Letter to Sills, Pavuvu, 25 July 1944: 'This next one [the Peleliu campaign] is going to be a peach. Woe is me!'

Letter to his high school sweetheart Phyllis Stowell, aboard LST-661, 5 September 1944: ‘We are at sea again en-route to another enemy stronghold [Peleliu]. This letter will not go out until after we hit our objective but at least you know that I gave you thought on the way up ... Don't ever worry about me Phyllis for I'll be O.K. Just remember that I can't go wrong because after this blitz I'm coming back so wish me luck. I'll need it.’

[thatoneluckybee]

Homesick Propaganda Post

Because the hyperfixation has officially returned with a vengeance. I have three (3) ongoing hyperfixations help. Also I find this whole thing hilarious and must drag more mutuals down the rabbit hole (I’ve been here since Spring 22 I think?)

Main character is canonically Bisexual and the deuteragonist is canonically Asexual

Everyone is hot (I know what y’all’re about.)

Navy Blouin. (Yeah we like him here)

You get to support women’s wrongs (she bites a man’s ear off.)

There’s a guy named Kenny that we call Kenneth in the comments because it’s funny.

The series creator is amazing and feeds us with wonderful art a lot. She drew a bunch of them as the Mean Girls Jingle Bell Rock. She also drew the Peaches scene (You know what I mean the Mario thing) with the characters.

There’s a cat and his name is Ogre!!!! And he hates you!!!

There is a canon hijabi woman and she is hilarious and we love her

The color palette is amazing (mainly pinks and purples)

Gladiolus. (He likes ladybugs and doesn’t know how to ride a bike)

There’s a guy named Oak that we call babygirl in the comments because it’s funny (and accurate)

THE SEASON ONE FINALE HAS MUSIC.

Tomoha Kobayashi. (She beats the crap out of somehow and her hair is adorable)

Local Woman Kills and Looks Good Doing It

Guy gets almost killed and gets out of it by flirting. (Not spoiling though figure it our yourself.)

There’s a bird and her name is Karen.

Greasy Man “Discourse” (You hate loving him or love hating him it’s a win-win. We all want to beat up Greasy Man)

THE AAAAAAAAAART.

Look at my PFP. Do you like her. Then read it please?? You should like her

[thehyperrequiem]

Hypestars (Robots Parody) Cast

“In a world of sentient cartoons, striving young plumbers Mario and Luigi (Charles Martinent) wants to work for the avuncular Ford Cruller (David Kaye), whose Cruller Industries makes spare toon parts. But Ford has just been deposed as company head by the villainous Bowser (Kenneth W. James), who wants to make all toons submit to profitable forced upgrades. In this animated adventure, Mario, his bro and their friend Vampire Cookie (Jason Kaye III) go underground to fight Bowser's evil plans.”

Mario (Mario) as Rodney Copperbottom

Luigi (Mario) as Himself/Rodney’s Brother

Vampire Cookie (Cookie Run) as Fender Pinwheeler

Ford Cruller (Psychonauts) as Bigweld

Peach (Mario) as Cappy

Daisy (Mario) as Herself/Cappy’s Friend and Luigi’s Girlfriend

Rabbid (Raving Rabbids) as Wonderbot

Polterpup (Luigi’s Mansion) as Himself/Luigi’s Pet

Alchemist Cookie (Cookie Run) as Piper Pinwheeler

Bowser (Mario) as Phineas T. Ratchet

Kammy Koopa (Mario) as Madame Gasket

Kamek (Mario) as Monsieur Gasket

Bowser's Henchmen (Mario) as Madame Gasket's Henchmen

Lucrecia Mux/Nona Aquato (Psychonauts) as Aunt Fanny

Samurai Jack (Samurai Jack) as Crank Casey

Bear Hugger (Punch Out) as Lugnut

Henry Stickmin (Henry Stickmin) as Diesel Springer

Peppino Spaghetti (Pizza Tower) as Herb Copperbottom

Gustavo (Pizza Tower) as Lydia Copperbottom (With Brick as an Extra)

Tincan Zanotto (Psychonauts) as Tim

Sparkling Cookie (Cookie Run) as Loretta

Elder Custard Cookie (Cookie Run) as Mr. Gunk

Dr. Bones Cookie (Cookie Run) as Jack Hammer

Various Cartoon Characters as Robots

[charliemwrites]

Hi, if this is only a mutuals thing, feel free to delete unpublished.

But, I have one of those too, a COD oc!

Tech Sergeant Araceli Blackwood is a USAF Pararescuer.

She's one of three women to become tier one operators in US history.

She was born in Cuba and moved to the US in the fourth grade. Her parents did the work to make sure she was an american citizen before she graduated high school.

In high school she was a competitive swimmer and a distance runner for track and field. She never waffled about joining the Air Force.

During basic training, she discovered lifting heavy and never turned back. She's average height for a Hispanic woman in her late twenties. Black hair, brown brown eyes, and strong as an ox. She is constantly in trouble with USAF standards for BMI, but she constantly meets or exceeds physical fitness qualification standards. And, one could argue, that without the leverage of the average man's height, she needs the extra strength to do her job.

She had always wanted to do something with the air corps. But, she remained undecided in her MOS until she realized that she could already meet the standards of combat dive school without fins from her years swimming in high school.

When asked about how she learned to swim or how she can hold her breath so long she'll tell you she once had to swim 125 miles to get home when she was nine years old. The time it takes, the number of obstacles she faces varies from telling to telling. You should know: it was really only the last three miles that she had to swim. And, it was only one time, when she was first entering the country. But she likes to make the story interesting.

After her first mission with SEAL team Echo, she comes home and celebrates by closing down the bar with her teammates. The way she slurs PJ (a nickname of pararescue operators) turns into Peach. Master Chief Kenneth Jones, the SEAL team leader, turns this into Princess Peach. She's been 'Princess' ever since.

In honor of that very fine and upstanding moment, she got a princess peach crown sitting tilted on a red mushroom on the back of her neck, under her collar.

She's been kicking ass and saving lives with on and off with SEAL team Echo for the last five years now.

Kate Laswell, having a crisis of faith in the 141's ability to keep itself alive after losing Soap, brought Blackwood's name to Price's attention for an upcoming mission to the Falkland Islands. Price is resistant to filling Soap's spot.

Price, Vargas, Gaz, and Ghost take her on in their different ways to see what she's really made of.

But, maybe it takes the princess saving them, for Price to see the value of keeping her on.

(there's also a whole romantic subplot with Konig on this mission which I'm very excited for her to experience.)

-- <3 @quaritchscupquake

Hello hello helloooooo! Definitely not mutuals only and thank you SO MUCH for sharing. I absolutely adore this. That backstory is so detailed, I love the thought and design in Princess. Tough break to come onto the team after Soap is gone (would have loved to see them meet) but I have absolute faith in her ability to win all the boys over. That is a CERTIFIED badass if I've ever seen one.

[tonytonychopprano]

\\ ERIDANUS SUPERVOID - 1 //

Bruno finds Thomas dead in their home.

cw: major character death. graphic descriptions of a corpse decaying. mentions of cardiac illness. bruno refers to thomas' residual limbs as nubs 1x or 2x (this character is ok with it tho).

nb: im actively learning french so pls kindly correct my mistakes.

It's recycling day.

Bruno's familiar with certain human concepts, though it was centuries since he's been one--the holidays, festivals, feasts. He distinctly remembers Kenneth telling him about the traditions of l'États-Unis moderne: Thanksgiving feasts, trick-and-treating, an entire day spent sharing candies and chocolates taken from the Saint of Valentine (so many days set aside just for eating! he wishes he could visit such a wonderful place), and the superb bowl of roses that seemed, to him, something like their way of beckoning the end of winter.

He is certain, though, they couldn't compare to recycling day.

Elsee had arisen him early that day, startling him from his trance with frenetic rapping on the window of their bedroom. A clot of ferals milled around it, pawing at the joints in the wood, digging their fingers into the cracks and nibbling the chunks of mortar they yank loose. Bruno narrows his thoughts into a needle and strikes, an opalescent waver sprouting from his skull and whipping through thin air, lancing through the clot. They scatter, hissing and growling, screaming back at him in their own minds fuck you fuck you we are HUNGRY fuck you and the sound echoes in the well of his brain like the clanging of a church bell.

Beside him, Thomas huffs and shuffles deeper under the comforter.

Elsee!--stop them; they are eating our walls.

Come o-o-o-on, it whines. It's shrill and pierces Bruno's brain. Gonna eat 'em. Gonna eat your whole house. It starts slapping weakly at the glass. Despite the bastard tone it's taking Bruno can sense the desperation, the panic. Elsee is so hungry. The Unflesh fear not just the humans but also their own bellies.

"Minou," Thomas moans, rolling to his side and pulling the covers over his head. "Make 'em go away."

His voice still has that catch in it, that tremble. His words are thick and his breath comes in hoarse rattles. He's been sick for three days, now--a flu, perhaps, or an infection. He wouldn't say. Only asked that Bruno leave him be when he said so. Bruno lays a hand on his sweaty forehead, cards his fingers through his red-gold curls. Settles himself, hones his thoughts to a pin and sticks himself down the center and nails himself in place. At once the feelings of his fellows evaporate; everything vanishes, his vision tunneling to a single blue-eyed, fair-skinned point.

Yum, yum. Pepperleaf wood. Elsee peels a splinter out of a board and nibbles it like a French fry. Spicy house. Tommybaby's gonna be sad we had to eat your house.

Mon ami, sil vous. You can leave without me this once. Can't you? He brushes his thumb over Thomas' ashen cheek and watches his eyelids flutter. He coughs, a miserable hacking sound. Pity seeps into him like he's been draped with wet wool. Poor Thomas; what an awful flu.

Poor Tommybaby. Poor us. Poor Elsee, it gets no trash and no garbage and will starve. Crinkleback says--and here it begins slavering, scraping at the sill, an irritating beast--Crinkleback says Lord Hand-on-dick passed some new law. No more surface dumps. All comes down for us now.

That--does bring him pause. How many dead, human and antisoul both?--hundreds of millions? More? The thought of so much refuse makes him shudder; his tattoos wriggle, sprouting shoots and buds that swell and burst and ripen into shiny, heavy fruits--medlars, peaches, fat ears of corn with kernals like fists. Is that really all for them now? For what reason? Bruno douses the suspicion blooming within him and chooses to focus on the bounty.

Show me.

Immediately there's a wash of feeling as his mind links with Elsee's: the sharp pangs of hunger boiling in its belly, the background fear all Unflesh feel, the faint wants of the far-off moonsick ferals that gradually strengthened as his connection did until, with a discomforting ripple that turns briefly his skull to jelly, he became one with his fellows and for a horrifying second he had ceased to be Bruno at all, felt nothing but the need to run and the vicious fear of La Famine and the curiosity--there was a human in his bed, warm and alive and full of blood with soft pink lungs endlessly drawing breath--

And then it passed, and his soul solidified, and all he could hear was the excited chirping of Elsee as it mentally displayed the bounty being dumped down the Grand Doline and falling through hundreds of miles of darkness to land in the detritus fields: fruit and vegetable peels and old papers and and bottles both glass and plastic; broken scraps of surface-world industry, commercial robots soaked in rich-smelling motor oils, small home objects like his petit's miniature-wave cooker and his mixer, all held in shiny, sweet-tasting bags that stretched like taffy and melted deliciously in his mouth. The images are warped and malformed--Elsee must have been terribly excited to have such a poor recollection--but it's enough to make Bruno's stomach flip.

You like?

He does. Terribly so.

But--ami, I can't. Thomas is ill.

So what? There's shittons of humans. Fuck a healthy one.

With a flick of his ears a torrent of his thoughts spill from his brain and slam into Elsee's chest, sending it crashing into the dirt with a cacophonous screech. Thomas jolts, sitting straight up in bed, chest heaving under his thin singlet. When he sees the Unflesh outside his window he draws the covers up over his chest and crosses his arm, grimacing. His fingernails dig into the skin of his breastbone there so tightly they leave red crescents behind. "The fuck was that?"

"It--nothing, abeille. Please, rest. It is only my fellows. We--we are hungry," he says slowly. As if ashamed.

"So go eat, cher. Ain't no fuckin' fun right now anyhow." He gives a wan smile. His moustache is unkempt and several days of beard growth long since turned his sideburns into misshapen blobs. His grip has relaxed; his hand comes up to idly rub his jaw, his neck. Is he mad?--Bruno senses something like a…a wobble in his heart's normal rhythm. "Look at me. You been sittin' vigil for days and I'm still here. Go out and have fun."

"Are you mad? Petit, it is so dangerous here, and you are so sick--my fellows come and go all day, what if we hurt you by mistake? You are human--tu es fragile--"

Thomas gives him a hateful glare that chills the room several degrees.

"Désolé," he says quickly. That had been one of the things le thérapeute had warned him on--coddling him. "I only-- I want to keep you safe." Bruno smiles. "I ate yesterday." I'll be alright.

Well, I will NOT, and the noise of it is so loud and sudden he flinches.

Thomas notices. Before he can ask the question: "Elsee is--it is very angry this morning."

"All the more fuckin' reason to head out, then, huh?" Now it's his turn to cut Bruno off--"Minou, you 'member what I told you? 'Bout goin' when I asked?" He flops back onto the bed. His breath catches when he does. "All I'm gonna do today is sleep anyhow."

Is it wrong to be excited?--he already feels himself beginning to shiver.

"I--you are serious, ma crevette?"

"As a--I--yeah, minou. I am."

(Later, he'd think of the way his face changed, the flash of agony. The fear.)

\\\ /// \\\ /// \\\ ///

The detritus fields had been ripe with treasures. They took the six mile journey at a sprint, racing each other, screeching with joy, clots of Unflesh breaking off from their groups at the sight of running and, madly, instinctively, darting through the ink-black tunnels after them. The cave walls echoed with chirps and chatters, the karst slick and pearly with moisture from the thick heat of Hannick City's heart pumping electricity up through the rocky earth and into the tall leafless trees Thomas called utility poles.

Within thirty minutes Bruno, Elsee, and the forty or so zombies they'd collected as they ran had carved out a little spot for themselves, nestling among a towering pile of cardboard boxes reeking of cured meat and grease. He'd eaten his cardboard strips and watched the millions of his fellows dig through the trash, picking through piles of garbage as tall as buildings. Some scrapped over who got the most fruit peels or who had more printer ink than the other; a couple had drawn blood with the ferocity of their fights. The entire chamber was a deafening blast of squalling, screeching--among the more intact Unflesh, actual speech--and the air was so dense and hazy with thought Bruno had found himself more than once thinking with someone else's brain by mistake.

Some hours had passed before they'd all eaten their fills (Bruno alone had had eleven of those delicious boxes, as well as several tin cans and six peaches--completely fine except for some bruising and webbing near their stems. It maddened him what people would dispose of--all the more for them, he'd supposed.)

It wasn't until Elsee and Spinach were walking him home that he remembered--Thomas. His chest bucks, a sick facsimile of a heartbeat. He'd been gone nearly four hours.

He waves them off before they can get within a few miles of their home, watching them gallop off into the darkness of the tunnels. Guilt pools and burns in his stomach like he's sipped acid. How was he doing?--had his nap helped? was he hungry? Bruno was a miserable cook but perhaps he could trade some of the cardboard snacks he'd taken in his pockets for human food. A soup, perhaps. Bruno has been dead for several centuries but even he remembers the healing warmth of a hot broth in an uneasy stomach.

Bruno is still fiddling with his cardboard--dividing it up (rather selfishly) into enough strips to be tempting but not so many that he won't have anything for himself later--when he comes upon his front door. Locked; he twitches his ear, flicks out a single needle-thin waver, slips it into the lock and listens to the soft sounds of tumblers.

He freezes.

All he can hear is the tumblers.

Where is Thomas?--he hates the silence. Fears it so greatly he will sleep with a radio blaring simply to not be alone in the quiet, no matter how groggy it makes him the next morning. Why is nothing playing? No music, no sounds?

Bruno pushes the door open.

The house is dark. A faint hissing noise floats towards him from the back of the house.

He relaxes; he didn't realize how tense he was until his shoulders drop and he laughs, a nervous guttural sound like gravel rattling in a tin. He's taking a shower. After three days stuck sick in bed, that's the first place he'd go, too.

Well--surely he wouldn't mind some company?

Bruno makes his way down the hall, making sure to slam the door and call out Thomas' name (the last thing he wants is to frighten him) before he does. When he gets to the washroom door he slips his jacket off and lets the fabric puddle on the ground, the air hot and heavy on his skin. His tattoos are writhing and growing uncontrollably, lashing with excitement, making his skin itch; a cluster of purple lupines and tree orchids explode into bloom on his belly and their seeds burst forth in a torrent (obscenely, he thinks, and cringes).

"Thomas?" he calls out, knocking. He rubs at the place on his stomach where the lupines grew and forces them down. It's difficult to control his tattoos, but not impossible. "May I come in?" (Of course he can, but--c'est courtois.)

There's no response. Not even his customary answering knock on the tin walls of the shower.

"Thomas?"

"Abeille."

"Petit, are you alright?"

A moment passes before he opens the door.

It's absurdly normal inside. So much so that when Bruno walks up to the shower and draws back the curtain he stares dumbly at where Thomas' head should be before he can manage to look down at the metal floor of the shower and see

him

laying

in a tangled heap on the floor and his eyes are half-lidded, death-dulled and sunken deep in his skull, lips blue and parted and coated in a thin sheen of watery bile. His hair is dry and matted; half of him is out of the stream of water and the skin there is rapidly turning the wax-color of a corpse.

"T--Thomas?"

Thinks, stupidly: Why would you play such a horrible joke?

He reaches out; there's a sickening ripple as his tattoos rush up and over his chest and down his arms and crowd his palms. Bruno touches his face.

A spike of pain screams through him--it's empty, it's completely empty, there is no thought in him at all--and instantly he's diving under the icy spray, dragging his limp

(it is not a corpse)

form out of the shower and laying him flat on the floor, pressing his ear to his chest, and when he hears nothing there he simply freezes. The scarred skin on the nubs of his arm and leg are puckered and wrinkled from the water and his eyes are cloudy grey. He must be freezing, but he's so still. He can hear himself saying his name, over and over, stroking his face and his damp hair with shaking hands, like a chant, some prayer that will bring him

(not back; he's fine, what's there to come back from?)

to full wakefulness.

"N-non," he whines, an involuntary keening sound like a whipped dog. "Non, ab--abeille, petit, please--"

He shakes his shoulders. Bruno's fingers sink deep into the skin and he shudders, nauseous, head spinning, watching with wide-eyed horror as a wodge of his flesh deforms and melts, peeling off his shoulder and clinging to his wet palms like clay. His vision blurs.

"Dieu, fuck! Thomas, please," he says, sucking in breaths so deep it makes his chest burn. "P-please--this isn't funny, Thomas, Tommy," he sobs, "please--w-wake up. S-say--talk, say anything," and his voice is a hoarse rasp, grinding in his throat, and he begs for him to wake up again

and again

and again, for nearly a half-hour--a half-hour on his knees, staring into his petit's blank, empty corpse-face and begging for him to come back until the soreness in his rotting lungs is so severe he can no longer take breath to speak.

The hissing of the shower's spray and the clicking sounds of his crying are the only noises in the room. The spray gentles; soon the water tank has emptied and the room goes silent. Bruno gives out and collapses, lays his head down on his chest; he hears neither the beating of his heart nor the pulsing of his blood and it's so--it's so ugly, it's a disgusting thing--to be so quiet there--he pulls back and buries his face in his hands so he doesn't have to see the depression he'd left, the way his ribs had bent in like reeds--hear the sound of it--he quails, moaning.

"Thomas."

The word hangs in the air like a spider's thread, fragile and useless.

He should have been here.

If he'd been here, he could have helped.

This wouldn't have happened if he'd been here. There are hospitals--even down here, in the caves, there are doctors, clinics--he didn't even ask if Thomas wanted to go, he didn't--do anything, nothing at all for him--

He'd run off and left him to die alone.

It comes to him so suddenly he flinches, closing off his brain lest one of his fellows was near.

It--he'd left him.

The look on his face as he'd been going--that single second of panic--why hadn't he noticed until now? What had he said to him before leaving? What was the last thing Thomas heard?

Surely not what he wanted. Needed.

He sinks down, inches as close as he dares and rests his head near the remnant of Thomas' right arm. The hairs there tickle and it's so familiar, comforting, he nearly screams.

A pop echoes through the room. He roughly gestures towards the shower with a snarl, a waver snapping out and turning the handle so violently it snaps off at the joint and clatters to the floor. But it sounds again and he turns, head swivelling. The noise is colossal--God cracking his knuckles.

It's coming from Thomas.

Mute from horror, eyes so wide they sting, Bruno watches.

Thomas' belly bulges out in a nightmarish imitation of a woman quickening, fat swollen lumps welling under his skin, his body bloating, skin browning; his stomach doubles, triples in size before a torrent of foamy white-green liquid froths out of his mouth, eyes, ears, and the corpse-bile spilling from him soaks into Bruno's jeans and he screams. It reeks of cadaverine, the stink of dead flesh--he gags, stomach constricting painfully, scuttling backwards until he slams into the far wall, whimpering. He has to bite down on his wrist to stop himself.

His stomach caves in on itself. His ribs collapse. He's--he looks--like one of them. A rotten body, waxen skin stretched tight over the bone.

It's silent again. Only the quiet trickling of bile dripping from his face to the tiled floor.

"T-Thomas--?"

His body lifts its arm.

The skin there, purple and mottled with blood, withered to the bone--reforms. Fleshes out, thickens. Old dead flesh dribbles off in rivulets as new knits together, a golden sheen covering him; patches of his body shine and gleam like precious stones and from those spots blood and warmth flow freely, coursing through him. The scars at the end of his limbs and the ones etched into his skin stiffen and split as his body reforms, fresh scar tissue flooding the gouges left behind; in a moment they're shiny-pink, new.

Bruno scrubs his hands over his face, laces his fingers behind his head. This is--not happening.

He's--he was poisoned. It's happened before, dozens of times. The trash--it always has hemocides or bleach or foul-tasting chemicals mixed into it, to hurt them, kill them--this time it was something--else.

Thomas' body jerks like a marionette, a crazy dance, arm and leg twitching, hand curling into a claw and scraping at the wall. His chest bucks as his organs reshape themselves, bones cracking and snapping into place; after a few dreadful minutes the only movement is the swell of his breast rising and falling as he draws in breath after ragged breath. Even his face pinks up, takes on a healthy glow. The ashen cast is gone. He looks--healthy.

Like he was never sick. Never dead.

Cautiously, Bruno relaxes himself. Lets his brain wander, feel.

Energy.

He crawls forward, reaches out with a shaking hand and taps Thomas' cheek.

"Mm--quit. Quit it. 'M sleepin'." He makes to roll over and when he feels only his own nakedness he startles. He gives Bruno a look so wounded, so hurt, he feels it like a knife in him. "Oh, fuck, minou--"

"Y-you--you were dead," he says numbly.

For four blinks, there is silence. Thomas' face crumples.

"B-Bruno, cher, I'm--Bruno, I'm so sorry." He flails, shifts himself to a sort of half-sit, and leans forward on his intact leg as far as he can without toppling. He wraps his arm around Bruno, nearly in his lap. He's warm. Alive. Bruno lays a hand gently on his back and feels the blood rushing under the skin there; he feels hot tears splashing against his chest as well. He hugs him tighter.

He doesn't say anything. Why bother?--who cares? He's alive. If he tells himself it was only a hallucination, some horrible waking nightmare--couldn't it be? He's alive.

He holds Thomas while he cries, his shoulders trembling.

Bruno is shaking, too.

"Thomas--cher abeille, please--is this...." He swallows hard. "This is--real? You are alright?"

Perhaps he tries to say something. Thomas gasps, chokes on his own sobs. Bruno cups his cheek, brushes the tears away with his thumb, feels the faintest tinge of regret.

"Um--uh, minou, w-we need to--to talk, I think."

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue April 1, 1968

Editha Dussler in a dress, salmon pink. Norman Norell's large evening organdie, fastened with rhinestone buttons. The See-Through-Estée Lauder Lipstick updates in a shade called Peach Brandy. Suga ofsch Kenneth Hairdressing. Schreiner earrings.

Editha Dussler dans une robe, rose saumon. Le grand organdi du soir de Norman Norell, fermé par des boutons en strass. Le rouge à lèvres See-Through-Estée Lauder s'actualise dans une teinte appelée Peach Brandy. Suga de Kenneth coiffure. Boucles d'oreilles Schreiner.

Photo Alexis Waldeck vogue archive

[ratsoh-writes]

Beck sighs.

Beck: Yep. Family reunion... sorta.

Kenneth: Extended family reunion. Since the crash, many of my relatives just went to do their own thing. It took a while but we managed to track down every one of them.

Beck: Almost everyone.

Beck had a rather disappointed tone in the last sentence, but it could be because he was tired and didn't care to change his tone. He was at his second pie by now.

Kenneth: I am renting a place a tad far from here. But you wouldn't need to worry about driving all the way there, I can send someone to pick up the pies.

Opposite to his son, Kenneth looked rather excited, his tail was wagging and he had a delighted tone when he spoke.

Kenneth: So, about the chicks...

lol I think I can wrap this up with peaches selling a few mixed breed chicks under the counter, and securing an order for the event of course

[tavina-writes]

Tav, sorry for asking, but, Liu Ying's hair turns out white from grief. Does the same happen to Huang Yaoshi, after his wife's death??? Or is he just getting old?

sjkjg omg no worries Mar.

Liu Ying's hair does turn white out of grief! (in a single night even! talk about dramaticism.)

Huang Yaoshi on the other hand, is not mentioned to have had his hair color change because of grief over Feng Heng's death. We doooon't actually know his age strictly in the books (though he should also be the youngest of all of the Five Greats, with Wang Chongyang being the oldest) but he is at least 50-60 or thereabouts.

The book doesn't actually really mention his hair color! We have these clues about his appearance and mannerisms from Chapter 13 of LOCH where he first appears during MCF's fight with OYK before the incidents at Lu Manor on Lake Tai:

Ouyang Ke saw her alarmed expression and cursed secretly, “ What a brilliant blind bitch!” Fanning himself gently, he stood up and summoned his internal energy. He was about to strike out at Mei Chaofeng when he saw another person coming from the cliff. He hurriedly took back his strike and studied that person. He saw that the man was slim and tall; he was wearing a green robe and part of his hair was bound with a squared cloth. He looked like any cultured person but Ouyang Ke was unable to see his face clearly. The amazing thing however, was that Ouyang Ke was unable to hear any footsteps or breathing coming from that man. Even a highly skilled person like Mei Chaofeng would inevitably make some light noises when she walked but this person was walking casually, as if his body were floating, forming a somewhat ghostly image. It seemed as if nothing could cause him to make any noise while moving. That person glanced at Ouyang Ke before standing behind Mei Chaofeng. Ouyang Ke studied his face in detail and gasped unexpectedly. That person had a very weird face, besides a pair of eyes glancing around, the rest of his face was like a dead person’s. The skin of his face was stiff, it was not ugly but neither was it charming.

From Legend of the Condor Heroes, Chapter 13: "The Cripple of Lake Tai"

From this we can gather that HYS is tall, thin, wears green and has incredible qinggong. (Also the description of his hairstyle and the square cloth should be describing him wearing a futou. Which was the scholar gentry hairstyle accessory for men of this time period.)

This is corroborated by his first description when he shows up again in Chapter 14:

That person was tall and rather thin; wearing a dark green robe. His countenance was pale and expressionless. Other than his rolling eyes, the rest of his face was stiff like a wooden statue. He stood still and stiff like a standing corpse. As soon as everybody saw this person, a chill crept on their backs. They immediately turned their gaze away from this person, did not dare to look at his face anymore; their hearts thumping.

From Legend of the Condor Heroes, Chapter 14: "The Master of Peach Blossom Island"

HYS is tall, thin, ghostly, and terrifying!

The strange man let his left arm in Huang Rong’s embrace and lifted his right hand to slowly take off a thin mask from his face. He was wearing a genuine skin mask; no wonder his face was emotionless like that of a corpse. His true complexion was clear and good-looking, with a hint of sadness yet bore an aura of dignity around him; resembling the image of a deity.

From Legend of the Condor Heroes, Chapter 14: "The Master of Peach Blossom Island"

Except Mr. Jin Yong claims he's a total babe when the human skin mask is off lmao. Clear skin, good looking, with a hint of sadness, yet dignified, resembling a god, etc etc.

If you've read this far, you may be wondering: why does Michael Miu as HYS have a bleached hair wig then? Why did they make that design choice?

Well, for that I think their inspiration was based on Kenneth Tsang's iconic HYS look from the 1983 production, especially since Michael Miu played Yang Kang in 1983.

1983 Legend of the Condor Heroes: Huang Yaoshi (Kenneth Tsang) and Huang Rong (Barbara Yung). The only thing missing from the 2017 Huangs was NOT ENOUGH HUGS. (And not enough HYS going insane and screaming and crying, but I get it, Michael had a vibe and he was sticking to it.)

Michael Miu as Huang Yaoshi in LOCH 2017

Also Michael is much much hotter with his bleached wig. Turns the dilf persona up approximately 500% so. There we have it!

[artisticlegshake]

NUVO ORLANDO RESULTS 2023

I missed Nubie and Mini adjudications sorry!

NUBIE SOLOS:

1st Alyssa Horta - DANCE TOWN

2nd Isabella Fernandez - DANCE TOWN

3rd Annsley Huff - SOUTHERN STRUTT

4th Marlow Hess - NEW LEVEL

5th Kalei Hartwell - KALON

5th Marley Evans - SOUTHERN STRUTT

6th Kenneth Braga - NEW LEVEL

6th Isabella Prochazka - STARZ

7th Presley Ely - NEW LEVEL

7th Jane Peters - VIERA

8th Reese Yocco - CAROLINA COLLECTIVE

8th Kendall Shepherd - PEACHES

9th Amy Calzadilla - STARS

10th Isla Williams - CAROLINA COLLECTVIVe

MINI SOLOS:

1st Riley Borden - DANCE UNLIMITED

2nd Ashley Otano - NEW ERA

2nd Faith Sherwood - DANCE UNIVERSE

2nd Madison Harper - DANCE UNIVERSE

3rd Victoria Remon - DANCE TOWN

3rd Lainey Hess - NEW LEVEl

3rd Kaylin Jacobs - YOUR HAVE

4th Emma Bassel - NEW LEVEL

4th Amaya Rodriguez - DANCE UNLIMITED

4th Brinley Evans - SOUTHERN STRUTT

4th Lily Hackney - NEW LEVEL

5th Chloe Todman - 3 ’N MOTION

5th Bella Dyer - DANCEPLEX

5th Sloane Hall - SOUTHERN STRUTT

6th Khloe Chrisman - YOUR HAVEN

6th Sanaya Lester - DANCE UNIVERSE

6th Fiorella Mezzadri - DANCE UNIVERSE

7th Jayden Secall - PEACHES

7th Aleah Hartwell - KALON

7th Ariella Cousino - NEW LEVEL

7th Audrey Mikkelson - CAROLINA COLLECTIVE

8th Ashley Calzadilla - STARS

8th Kylee Kay - YOUR HAVEN

8th Katherine Harmston - STARZ ELITE

8th Bristal Boyer - 3 ’N MOTION

8th Adelaide - PEACHES

8th Brooklyn Roelofs - YOUR HAVEN

9th Amelia Burres - 3 ’N MOTION

9th Louise Cole - THE DANCE CENTRE

10th Avery Tatum - DANCE UNIVERSE

10th Einsley Hernandez - PEACHES

[alessia-photography]

Notes on a Summer (2023) in Portovenere

Every year we return to this house on Via Olivo in Portovenere. We sit on the terrace, look out over the bay & the boats. Time stops. "Time that is moved by little fidget wheels / Is not my time" wrote the Australian poet Kenneth Slessor. Listen to the water, be water my friend.

It's good to be back.

We have been coming here for two weeks in August for over a decade now. Porto Venere, a one-way-in-and-one-way-out-village on the Ligurian coast, in the Gulf of La Spezia, also known as the Gulf of Poets.

This place 44°3'19"N, 9°50'15"W has become like a super fast charger for my family. It's more than that reliable cocktail of sun & sea, fresh mussels & lemon, multi-coloured houses, pebble beaches, deep-fried anchovies and pesto. It's the time to stop. To sleep. To swim in the sea. To discuss the future. My father paints, my mother reads. We cook, we laugh, we eat out on our terrace on Via Olivo; sometimes we eat out in town. We heal.

This notebook has been coming here since 2016, filled with local illustrations, our gentle exploration of this part of the world, our routines & rituals, what we eat, what we read, what we do, how we feel. It only has a few blank pages left, so this year is its last year here.

The ancient Portus Veneris is believed to date back to at least the middle of the 1st century BC. It has been said that the name refers to a temple to the goddess Venus which was sited on the promontory where the church of San Pietro now stands.

In Roman times the city was essentially a fishing community.

Via Cappellini, a narrow multi-coloured thoroughfare sometimes packed with the Cinque Terre tourists, sometimes not.

An antique vintage book market in the main square, the scent of basil, water in my ears, sleeping in the sun all afternoon then a bit of CNN news while my father cooks guanciale, adding chunks of bread which cook in the porky oil, fried jewels in the salad we eat on the terrace under an almost full Harvest moon. Waxing (very) gibbous.

The Monday morning market in Portovenere - buying peaches & green beans, a pair of flip flops & a roast chicken from rude Riccardo.

The pebble beach in front of the American bar.

The rocks, and their mermaids.

Biting into a deep-fried anchovy in Via Cappelini. It's hot and steamy, my lips are salty, the air smells faintly of shit & lemons, sweet & sharp. We are in Portovenere and I'm so happy. This basil mojito is heaven.

There is lots to do in Portovenere. Look it up in an Eyewitness Guide. I have done everything there is "to do" in Portovenere and I really don't go to Portovenere to do stuff. I go for my August Super Fast Charge which gets me to Boxing day when I fly to Venice for a fortnight with my family for our other Super Fast Charge of the year.

Essential Summer Super Fast Charge ingredients: sun, sea, salt, basil, anchovies, lemons, books, a camera & notebook, family love.

[ragedaisy]

oc meme

Thanks for the tag @bokatan tagging: whoever wants to do this meme? Name: Kenneth (Jones? 87% sure I'm choosing that last name for him. Something in the surname top 5 of where he lives)

Nickname(s): (after August 10th 2077: RB-CA001, Catalyst)

Gender: cis male (somewhat agender-ish, but probably cis?)

Star Sign: Sagittarius (December 20th, 2058)

Height: 6'0''/ 183cm (Dutch ancestry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

Orientation: asexual (sex repulsed)

Nationality: American

Favourite Fruit: canned peaches, canned fruit in general. (It's sweet, consistent and dependable.)

Favourite Season: Summer

Favourite Flower: coneflower

Favourite Scent: the soap his mom buys

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: hot chocolate

Average hours of sleep: between 7-9 hours. Any less and he will burst into song start to annoy everyone around him.

Dog or cat person: either. His parents' place had a no pets policy, alas.

Dream trip: the radio convention he visited with his co-workers in 2076, at age 17

Favourite fictional character: The Inspector

Number of blankets they sleep with: two heavy blankets in the winter, one in the summer

Random fact: at the convention he met Kent Connolly and tried to argue about who the better Unstoppable is. Sweetie no -_-. You don't "well actually" this cinnamon roll. (Kent didn't take offence, luckily)

[fundiesimsfamily]

The Rogers family

Since I'm stopping with fundiechurch a bit of info of each family about their future.

Oliver and Dakota have only one child left at home. After years and years of paine and sorrow, mostly about Belle, they are somewhat happy again. They are enjoying all their grandchildren, have found peach in the fact that Jade isn't part of fundiechurch anymore and how Belle gives her life meaning. They will find it very difficult once Kenneth will live fundiechurch too but they will love the remaining children even more.

Leo and Zara currently have 4 children. She will be announcing another pregnancy in about nine months when Norman is a year and half. They will have plenty of children but won't have the biggest family since Zara won't be fertily into her 40ies.

Gavin and Anna currently have 2 daughters, Sabine and Lacy. In just three months they will be expecting again. They will have about the same size family as Leo&Zara.

Ayla and Alexander have already been discussed in the Goth's post.

Kenneth and Vivian have already been discussed in the Freeman's post.

Patrick's future has already been discussed in the Pancakes post since he will marry Barbera Pancakes.

[hatingwithfears]

BOOKS READ IN 2022

Here’s the complete list of books I managed to read in 2022.

168 books. 54,494 pages.

Renata Adler- Speedboat

Kendra Allen- The Collection Plate

Jonathan Alter- His Very Best: Jimmy Carter, A Life

Kenneth Anger- Hollywood Babylon

Jason Bailey- Fun City Cinema: New York City and the Movies That Made It

Peter Baker, Susan Glasser- The Divider: Trump in The White House 2017-2021

JG Ballard- The Atrocity Exhibition

Julien Barnes- Elizabeth Finch

Brit Bennett- The Vanishing Half

Charles M. Blow- The Devil You Know: A Black Power Manifesto

Anthony Bourdain- Medium Raw

Anthony Bourdain, Laurie Woolever- World Travel: An Irreverent Guide

Box Brown- Cannabis: The Illegalization of Weed in America

Mariah Carey, Michaela Angela Davis- The Meaning of Mariah Carey

Nick Cave & Sean O’Hagan- Faith, Hope, and Carnage

David Chang- Eat a Peach

Dan Charnas- Dilla Time

Leonard Cohen- A Ballet of Lepers

Lee Cole- Groundskeeping

Teju Cole- Black Paper

Ray Connolly- Being Elvis: A Lonely Life

Brian Contoir- Practical Alchemy

Antoine Cosse- Metax

Charles R. Cross- Here We Are Now: The Lasting Impact of Kurt Cobain

Daniele Cybulskie- How To Live Like a Monk

Travis Dandro- King of King Court

John Darnelle- Devil House

Michael Deforge- Heaven No Hell

Rita Dove- Playlist for the Apocalypse

David Duchovny- The Reservoir

Jennifer Egan- The Candy House

Robert Evans- The Kid Stays in The Picture

Scott Eyman- Cary Grant: A Brilliant Disguise

Nicolas Ferraro- Cruz

Mark Fisher- Ghosts of My Life

Mark Fisher- Capitalist Realism

Johnathan Franzen- Crossroads

Harry Freedman- Leonard Cohen: The Mystical Roots of Genius

Matti Friedman- Who By Fire: Leonard Cohen in the Sinai

James Gavin- George Michael: A Life

Lizzy Goodman- Meet Me in The Bathroom

Andrew Sean Greer- Less

Dave Grohl- The Storyteller: Tales of Life and Music

Joseph Hansen- Troublemaker

Joy Harjo- Poet Warrior

Robert Harris- The Ghost Writer

Noah Hawley- Anthem

Wil Haygood- Colorization: One Hundred Years of Black Film in a White World

Clinton Heylin- The Double Life of Bob Dylan

Andrew Holleran- The Kingdom of Sand

Michel Houellebecq- Serotonin

Sean Howe- Marvel Comics: The Untold Story

Dorthy B Hughes- In a Lonely Place

John Irving- The Fourth Hand

Walter Isaacson- Leonardo Da Vinci

Kazuo Ishiguro- Klara and The Sun

Junji Ito- No Longer Human

Robert Jones Jr- The Prophets

Saeed Jones- Alive at The End of the World

Stephen Graham Jones- My Heart is a Chainsaw

Rax King- Tacky

Stephen King- Billy Summers

Katie Kitamura- Intimacies

Chuck Klosterman- The Nineties

TJ Klune- Under The Whispering Door

Karl Ove Knausgaard- The Morning Star

Hideo Kojima- The Creative Dream

Milan Kundera- Slowness

Wally Lamb- I Know This Much is True

Yiyun Li- Dear Friend, from My Life I Write to You in Your Life

Thomas Ligotti- The Conspiracy Against The Human Race

Roger Lipsey- Make Peace Before the Sun Goes Down

Patricia Lockwood- No One is Talking About This

Ling Ma- Bliss Montage

Stuart B MacBride- Halfhead

Michael Mann & Meg Gardiner- Heat 2

Greil Marcus- Dead Elvis

Mike McCormack- Solar Bones

Jennette McCurdy- I’m Glad My Mom Died

Janelle Monae- The Memory Librarian

Ottessa Moshfegh- Lapvona

Leila Mottley- Nightcrawling

Alan Moore, Melinda Gebbie- Lost Girls

Grant Morrison- The Invisibles

Mannie Murphy- I Never Promised You a Rose Garden

Sequoia Nagamatsu- How High We Go in The Dark

Joyce Carol Oates- Blonde

Joyce Carol Oates- American Melancholy

John O’Connell- Bowie’s Bookshelf

Ryan O’Connell- Just By Looking at Him

Jenny Offill- Weather

Paul Ortiz- An African American and Latinx History of The United States

Hiroko Oyamada- The Factory

Hiroko Oyamada- The Hole

Helen Oyeymi- What is Not Yours is Not Yours

James Patterson- Hear No Evil

Larissa Pham- Pop Song

Brian Phillips- Impossible Owls

Stephanie Phillips- Why Solange Matters

Keith Phipps- Age of Cage

Michael Pollan- This Is Your Mind on Plants

Richard Powers- Bewilderment

Questlove- Music is History

Kristen Radtke- Seek You

Sue Rainsford- Follow Me to Ground

Claudia Rankine- Just Us: An American Conversation

George A Romero, Daniel Kraus- The Living Dead

Karen Russell- Orange World

George Saunders- A Swim in a Pond in The Rain

George Saunders- Liberation Day

Samantha Schweblin— Fever Dream

Leonardo Sciascia- Equal Danger

Mark Seal- Leave The Gun, Take The Cannoli

Seth- Clyde Fans

Alan Sepinwall- Breaking Bad 101

Zadie Smith- Feel Free

Won-Pyung Sohn- Almond

Bob Spitz- Led Zeppelin: The Biography

Elizabeth Strout- Oh William!

J Randy Taraborrelli- The Secret Life of Marilyn Monroe

Herve Le Tellier- The Anomaly

Manjit Thapp- Feelings

Olga Tokarczuk- The Books of Jacob

Jia Tolentino- Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self Delusion

Leo Trezenick- The Confession of a Mad Man

Stanley Tucci- Taste

Una- Becoming Unbecoming

Ocean Vuong- Time is a Mother

Chris Ware- Rusty Brown

WC Ware- Jimmy Corrigan

John Waters- Liarmouth

Peter Weiss- The Shadow of The Coachman’s Body

Missouri Williams- The Doloriad

Antoine Wilson- Mouth to Mouth

Sarah Winman- Still Life

Laurie Wollever- Bourdain: The Definitive Oral Biography

Kenneth Womack- Solid State: The Story of Abbey Road and The End of The Beatles

Hanya Yanagihara- To Paradise

Ed. Jelani Cobb & David Remnick- The Matter of Black Lives

Ed. Sinead Gleeson & Kim Gordon- This Woman’s Work: Essays on Music

[queermycelium]

I WANNA SEE YOUR GARDEN!!!!!

also happy new year!!!!!

Thank you!!! And also here we go:

THIS is Lup, Taako, Merle, and Magnus

The Queen and The Girls

Left to right:

Salad Fingers and Kenneth, Basil(pronounced like the name), Aloeicious

Peaches

Oliver

And Miles!!!

[sporadiceagleheart]

Today's joy with Rachel Joy Scott Friday edits is Rest In Peace to those famous stars & angels Verne Troyer, Richard Griffiths, Alan Rickman, Richard Harris, Michael Gambon, John Hurt, Robbie Coltrane, Helen McCrory, Roberts Blossom, Billie Burke, Frank Sutton, Jim Nabors, Judy Garland, Margaret Hamilton, Clara Blandick, Shirley Temple and baby Leroy, Paul Grant, Leslie Phillips, Robert Hardy, Timothy Bateson, Terence Bayler, Robert Knox, Sam Beazley, Paul Ritter, Dave Legeno, Peter Cartwright, Derek Deadman, Hazel Douglas, Alfred Burke, Jimmy Gardner, Elizabeth Spriggs, Bob Newhart, Tom Poston, Dean Martin, Mary Frann, Betty White, Rik Mayall, Brian Nickels, Jerry Reed, Matthew Perry, Raymond Burr, Mary Ann Jackson, Dorothy DeBorba, Mary Kornman, Mildred Kornman, Peaches Jackson, Peggy Cartwright, Darla Jean Hood, Jean Darling, Peggy Montgomery, Bob Barker, Lucille Ricksen, Michael Kenneth Williams, Pat E. Johnson, Richard Burton, Cyril Cusack, Roger Lloyd Pack, Peter Frye, John Boswell, James Walker, Shirley Rosemary Stelfox, Shirley Jean Rickert, Janet Key, June Marlowe, Virginia Weidler, Jane Withers, Peter Michael Falk, Bruce Kirby, Mike Lally, John Finnegan, Robert Culp, Vito Scotti, Val Avery, Fred Draper, Alan Fudge, Gene Wilder, Jack Albertson, Richard Belzer, Richard Bull, Jerome Guardino, Bill Zuckert, Steven Gilborn, Ed McCready, Paul Carr, James Avery, Parley Edward Baer, Sherman Hemsley, Ellen Albertini Dow, Carl Reiner, Alan Wolf Arkin, Michael Jeter, Debbie Lee Carrington, James Caan, Ed Asner, Ana Ofelia Murguía, Paul Newman, Madge Sinclair, Robert Guillaume, Mary Ethel Gregory, Michael Landon, Katherine MacGregor, Kevin Hagen, Dabbs Greer, John Heard, Leonard Stone, John Candy, Victor Edwin French, Robin Williams, Peter Fonda, Geoffrey Palmer, Olivia Newton-John, Eve Arden, Rose Joan Blondell, Alice Ghostley, Darrell Zwerling, Dody Goodman, Lance Reddick, Andy Griffith, Don Knotts, Anissa Jones, Bridgette Andersen, Dominique Dunne, Samantha Reed Smith, Heather and Judith Barsi, Fred Rogers, Olivia Twenty Dahl, Roald Dahl, Sofie Magdalene Dahl, Walter Elias Disney, Ruth Flora Disney, Denise Marie Nickerson, Louis XVII, Lois Janes, Marie Thérèse de France, Christopher Plummer, Eazy-E, Peter Cartwright, John William "Johnny" Carson,

[smartposh]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Kenneth Cole Reaction Shirt Size XXL.