#max terr

[veronicaleighauthor]

[alessandro55]

Terres Indiennes

Max -Pol Fouchet

Maison Héliographia, Lausanne 1955, 102 pages, 96 illustrations tirées en héliogravure, 2 pages d’illustrations en couleurs, 22,3x28cm, 10.000 ex.numérotés, ex.n 2031

euro 50,00

email if you want to buy booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

Max-Pol Fouchet, né le 1er mai 1913 à Saint-Vaast-la-Hougue (Manche) et mort le 22 août 1980 à Avallon (Yonne)1, est un poète, écrivain, critique d'art et homme de télévision français.

Une histoire illustrée des indiens d’Amérique du Sud. Les paysages, les portraits, la vie quotidienne et la culture de cette civilisations ont surtout été prises au Mexique, mais aussi en Bolivie, au Pérou, au Venezuela et au Costa Rica .

24/07/24

[little-mari-on-a-roof]

Frenglish differences in Miraculous - Episode 20

Guitar Villain/Guitar Vilain

In French, Jagged has a USAmerican accent and sometimes words things in an unusual way.

Jagged

En: Penny thinks everything I'm doing is rock star material. She thinks I'm killer.

Fr: Demande à Penny. De toutes les rock stars je suis le plus grand. Et Penny a toujours raison.

Ask Penny. Of all rock stars, I'm the biggest. And Penny is always right.

Penny is always right!!

In English, Jagged's catchphrase is something like "my music is killer". In French, what he says is "mon son fait trembler la terre", which means that his songs make the earth quake. He also sometimes says that his music "rips everything" (déchire tout), which is a French way of saying something is awesome, basically.

XY

En: Hey, Ragged, if you want to know what today's music sounds like, come to my concert. I'll reserve you a front row seat, old man. You know, in case your hearing is going.

Fr: Hey le dinosaure, si tu veux écouter un son actuel passe donc à mon concert. On te trouvera une place au premier rang, et on mettra ton sonotone a fond.

While one of Guitar Villain's power is called "awesome solo" in English, it is called "riff de choc" in French (lit. chock riff).

Hey dinosaur, if you want to listen to a present-day song, come to my concert. We'll find you a seat in the front row, and we'll set your hearing aid on max.

Chat Noir

En: Talk about being between a rock and a hard place.

Fr: J'avais déjà vu des ventes chuter mais jamais un artiste.

I had already seen sales plummet but never an artist.

Chat Noir to his Lady

En: Good job!

Fr: T'es trop forte <33.

You're awesome! (lit. "you're so strong" but it doesn't really translate the intent)

Ok so I'm the one who added the little heart but you can basically hear it when Chat is talking 🥰.

[bethanythebogwitch]

I am a survivor of Florida, having gone to college there for 4.5 years. There's a lot (a LOT) to not like about Florida, but the wildlife is not one of those things. So for this Wet Beast Wednesday, I'm gonna talk about the most famous Florida resident, the manatee. And why stop there? I'll discuss all the sirenians in one go.

(image: three manatees facing the camera. They are rotund, resembling a potato in shape. Their heads are smaller and end in squarish snouts. They have two flippers at the front of the head. The tail is flat, wide, and round. They are grey all over)

The sirenians are a taxonomic order of marine mammals consisting of 4 living members: three species of manatee and the dugong. They are the only herbivorous order of marine mammals, a trait that has given the the nickname "sea cows". The name Sirenia comes from the sirens of greek myth. In the original story, the sirens were bird with the heads and breasts of women, but later stories turned them into mermaids and that's the version that's stuck. There are unconfirmed stories that European sailors (the most common story uses Christopher Columbus) mistook manatees for mermaids, which is why they're named after sirens.

(image: a manatee facing the camera. Its face is visible, revealing two nostrils on a broad, flat shout covered in whiskers. It's eyes are located above the snout and are small and black. It is grey, but has patches of greenish algae growing on it)

Sirenians all have a pretty similar body plan. They are fusiform (bulky in the middle and narrower at the ends) and very bulky animals not built for speed. They don't ned to be fast (though are capable of short bursts of speed) because unlike other marine mammals, they are herbivorous. The vast majority of a sirenian's diet consists of sea grass and most of the rest is other aquatic plants. All species have been known to supplement their diet with invertebrates, mostly during times of poor food availability. When feeding, they move their snouts through the sediment, letting sensory bristles detect plants. They then use their flexible and muscular lips to pull up the sea grass, roots and all. While an individual can eat up to 15% of their body weight a day, they are known to seek out seagrass patches with higher nitrogen content instead of eating everything they can get. This reliance on seagrass limits the range of sirenians to shallow coastal areas, rivers, and estuaries in warm climates. Hearing and touch (with the bristles that cover their bodies) are their main senses. Their eyes are weak, making them almost blind. Sirenians are large, with the largest ever known, Stellar's sea cow, growing up to 10 meters (33 ft) and 11 tons. Mature sirenians are large enough to have no natural predators. Like all marine mammals not named sea otters, sirenians have a thick layer of blubber to keep them warm. Their bones are extremely dense and likely act as ballast to counteract the buoyancy of the blubber. In the marine mammal breath-holding competition, sirenians do pretty bad. They can hold their breath for about 15 minutes at max.

(image: a dugong. It is similar in appearance to a manatee, but skinnier. Its tail is a fluke with two points. Its head is larger and the snout and mouth point downwards)

Sirenian reproduction is somewhat poorly-understood. They only have a single calf at a time (with a gestation period of about a year) and mothers will raise them for one to two years. Calves mature quickly, reaching sexual maturity in around 2-5 years in manatees and 8 years in dugongs, though most females do not give birth until between 6 and 15 years. Their nipples are located behind the flippers, making a nursing calf appear to be sucking its mother's armpit. Sirenians are solitary animals who typically only congregate in groups when females are in estrus. Males are believed to compete for the right to mate and may engage in lekking. Lekking is when a male will claim a territory and mate with females in this territory while chasing opposing males out. Sirenians live long lives, with the oldest known individual being a female dugong that lived to 73. Despite how long they live, each female will only get pregnant a few times in her life.

(image: a manatee mother with calf. The calf looks like a smaller version of the mother and is suckling, making it appear to be biting the mother's armpit)

As with all marine mammals, sirenians are descended from land mammals. The study of sirenian evolution has led to a surprising conclusion: the closest relatives of sirenians are elephants. It sounds weird, but there is substantial DNA evidence supporting this conclusion. In addition, the tusks of a dugong (see below) and flexible and prehensile lips of sirenians are based on the same structures as the tusks and trunks of elephants. It gets better, the next closest relative of both groups are the hyraxes, who look more like rodents than anything that should be related to an elephant or a manatee. All three are part of a clade called paenungulata, which is part of a clade called afrotheria. The other main group within afrotheria is afroinsectiphilia, which consists of aardvarks and various shrews. The afrotherian family reunions must be wild.

(image: a scientific diagram showing a cladogram of afrotheria and the groups within it. source)

The dugong (Dugong dugon) is the last surviving member of its family, which also included the now extinct giant Stellar's sea cow. The easiest way to tell a dugong apart from a manatee is its tail, which is shaped like a dolphin's fluke instead of the round tails of manatees. Internally, there are also multiple differences, many of them relating to the skull. The skull has a very distinct shape, with the upper jaw bending down at a sharp angle. The tip of the upper jaw has two short tusks emerging from it. These tusks are found in moth males and females, but develop differently. In males, they emerge when the calf reaches sexual maturity, while those of females only emerge later in life and sometimes not at all. It is believed that these tusks are used by males to fight over females, as males are often found with scars matching the shape of the tusks. Dugong teeth as simpler than those of manatees, being simple pegs. While manatee teeth will be replaced continuously through life, dugongs only get one set and have to make it count. Dugongs reach an average length of 3 m (10 ft) and 420 kg (930 lbs). Dugongs have the largest range of any sirenian, stretching from east Africa to the Solomon islands east of Australia. This range is fragmented rather than continuous and dugongs are separated into multiple isolated populations. The largest population is believed to exist in northern Australia.

(image: a dugong feeding on seagrass, seen from the front. It's snout is being dragged through the sediment, leaving a cloud of dirt behind it. Small yellow fish surround it)

The west Indian manatee (Trichechus manatus) does not live in west India. It lives in North America. I dunno who named it, but you had one job. The species is divided into two subspecies: the Florida manatee (T. m. latriostris) found in the Gulf of Mexico and east coast of the United States, and the Antillean manatee (T. m. manatus) found in the Caribbean and down south to Brazil. The Antillean subspecies is much more poorly known compared to the Florida subspecies. The Florida manatee may be the most well-studied of all manatees due to the extensive conservation efforts regarding them since the 1970s. Like other manatees, the WI manatee has a round, paddle-like tail and fingernails on its flippers. Their diaphragms are divided into two hemidiaphragms, each of which contracts one lung. They have the northernmost territory of all manatees, which comes with some consequences. They are susceptible to stress and even death when exposed to water under 20 degrees C (68 F). They travel south during winter, usually to southern Florida, but conservationists still have to rehabilitate manatees harmed by cool water every year.

(image: tourists in transparent kayaks observing a west Indian manatee swim below them)

The Amazonian manatee (Trichechus inunguis) is the only sirenian that lives entirely in freshwater, residing in the Amazon river basin. They move seasonally inhabiting flooded areas during the wet season and lakes during the dry season. They fast during the dry season, subsisting off of their fat stores. There are believed to be multiple relatively isolated populations of Amazonian manatee, but studying them is difficult due to them preferring to live in areas away from humans. The Amazonian manatee is the smallest sirenian, reaching between 160 and 230 cm (5 ft 4 in to 7 ft 7 in) and 120 to 270 kg (265 to 595 lbs). Scientist Marc van Roosmalen has proposed the existence of a related species, the dwarf manatee, that lives only in one tributary of Aripuanã river, which is in the habitat range of the Amazonian manatee. Their existence is debated, but most manatee scientists think that they are misidentified juvenile Amazonian manatees.

(image: an Amazonian manatee with calf, seen from ahead and below. they have the same body plan as the above images, but are a darker grey with a white patch on the stomach)

The African manatee (Trichechus senegalensis) is the only species found in the old world, in west Africa from Senegal to Angola. They occupy the largest range of habitats of all sirenians, from tropical islands to flooded forests, to offshore sand flats, to lakes and rivers. They will swim up river during the wet season and back down during dry season. Some isolated populations live exclusively in rivers, never venturing out to sea. They are the most omnivorous of the sirenians, seeking out invertebrates to eat and stealing fish from nets. Many cultural groups in their range consider the African manatee sacred, some saying they used to be people and that killing one requires paying a penance. Mami Wata, a water spirit revered in throughout west, central, and south Africa, has been identified with manatees by some folklorists.

(image: an African manatee seen from the side in an aquarium. It looks almost identical to the west Indian manatee)

All sirenians are classified as vulnerable by the IUCN, except for the Antillean manatee, which is endangered. As they have few to no predators as adults, the primary threats for all sirenians come from humans. Boat strikes and getting tangled in nets kills and injures many individuals, possibly more than die of natural causes. This is not helped by them lacking fear responses to predators, meaning they don't flee from humans and boats. All species were historically hunted for their meat, blubber, and bones, reducing their populations. While all species are now legally protected, poaching and legal hunting by indigenous groups still occurs. They are also threatened by habitat loss as coastal development, pollution, and climate change reduces the range of seagrass. Damming has also reduced their ability to travel up rivers, cutting off valuable feeding ground. Learning about freshwater ecology will make you despise dams. In the United States, the west Indian manatee has become an icon of conservation, especially in Florida, where they have extensive legal protections. Controversially, the US government reduced their legal protections in 2017, much to the ire of many conservation groups. The manatee is the state marine mammal of Florida, presumably narrowly beating out dolphins and meth heads wandering around the everglades.

(image: two juvenile manatees who were abandoned by their mothers. They are being bottle fed by employees of the Cincinnati zoo. Ideally, they will be able to be released into the wild once weaned)

[jefaiscequejepeux]

L'invasion des profanateurs (Philip Kaufman, 1978)

Ça faisait 150 ans que j'entendais parler de ce film et j'ai vu la dernière scène du film par hasard en scrollant sur Instagram et loin de me faire rager (car je trouve que y a prescription chepa), le fait d'être ainsi spoilée m'a donné envie de voir le film donc vive le spoil finalement (non). En plus j'ai vu en cherchant où le voir qu'il était disponible gratuitement sur arte en ce moment donc je n'avais aucune raison de ne pas le regarder.

C'est l'histoire d'une gonzesse qui bosse dans un labo et son mec est un sale macho insup mais à l'époque c'est pas le sujet c'est normal sauf que du jour au lendemain le mec change de comportement genre il se lève avant le réveil (alors que j'imagine qu'habituellement c'était plutôt un feignant fini (comme le pape)) et il a comportement hyper froid donc elle en parle à un de ses collègues. Son collègue veut grave la pécho il est juste en mode "oui je t'ai toujours dit que c'était un gros naze tfacon quitte le" mais sinon il pige pas trop ce qu'elle raconte. Et quelques jours plus tard, elle lui dit qu'elle a l'impression que c'est pas seulement son mec mais plein de gens partout dans la ville qui sont plus vraiment eux mêmes. Et son collègue commence à la croire car il entend des témoignages un peu similaires de gens random genre le type de pressing. Bref, rapidement ils captent que les gens sont remplacés dans leur sommeil par une copie d'eux-mêmes créée par une plante alien tandis que l'humain original dead et peu à peu les aliens colonisent toute la terre de cette manière quoi. Donc pour éviter ça les personnages principaux essayent... de pas dormir. Je trouve ça complètement con parce qu'ils pourraient juste se relayer pour dormir mais à la place le mec est "tiens prenons du speed pour pas dormir" mdr on aurait dit qu'il attendait vraiment juste une occasion pour prendre un max de drogues en fait.

Aussi un truc qui m'a tuée c'est Donald Sutherland qui passe son temps à se cacher derrière des murs pour observer les gens de loin il le fait au moins 5 fois dans le film toujours voir la moitié de son visage en mode 🧐 ça m'a fait rire à chaque fois mais il m'en faut peu.

Bref bilan c'était cool j'ai bien aimé le côté tous les humains sont potentiellement des aliens et on ne sait pas à qui se fier. J'ai aussi bien aimé voir Jeff Goldblum et Donald Sutherland jeunes. Et j'ai trouvé les effets spéciaux vraiment pas mal pour l'époque c'est mieux que les trucs faits tout par ordinateur aujourd'hui (la meuf a 120 ans mdr) bref très contente d'avoir enfin vu ce classique j'ai passé un très bon moment devant !

[kiffeuse2baltrou]

J'suis giga anxieuse en ce moment à un point où ça m'empêche de dormir, déjà psk en juillet/août jvais devoir retourner taffer et vraiment j'ai pas DU TOUT envie (jpense jvais retourner dans un service civique c'est le plus simple) mais aussi parce que la dernière semaine de juin y a Raph qui vient à l'appart et je suis stressée de bz j'ai trop peur qu'iel me déteste pour jsp quelle raison 💀 (en vrai y a peu de chance jpense pas être la pire personne avec qui cohabité sur terre mais jsp j'ai peur).

Et le 19 y a un drag show où y a le système apo qui performe et jvais accompagné Max psk faut que jsorte un peu mais vas y, y aura sûrement tt le groupe ça va être giga cringe et comme on se sera tazer la gueule 3/4 jours avant (j'ai hâte) jvais sûrement être morte

[dropboxofcuriosities]

Maurice-Louis Branger, L'amphibocycle, bicyclette amphibie sur la Seine, Asnières, 1909

L'amphibocycle était une bicyclette amphibie conçue pour circuler aussi bien sur terre que sur l'eau. En 1909, une photographie prise par Maurice-Louis Branger montre un homme utilisant cet engin sur la Seine, à Asnières, illustrant l'ingéniosité de l'époque en matière de transports alternatifs. ​

Ce type de véhicule amphibie n'était pas unique en son genre. Dès la fin du XIXᵉ siècle, divers inventeurs ont expérimenté des cycles capables de naviguer sur l'eau. Par exemple, en 1895, l'ingénieur allemand Max Wenkel a testé avec succès un tricycle aquatique près de Hanovre, équipé de roues arrière munies de petites pales pour la propulsion. ​

Bien que ces inventions aient démontré une créativité notable, elles n'ont pas connu de succès commercial significatif, restant principalement des curiosités technologiques de leur temps.

[hanasnx]

“Oh, c’mon. You serious?” The distant voice of a former school yard bully grabs TERRY MCGINNIS's attention enough to pivot his head. Not only does he recognize the back of Nelson’s red head in the courtyard, but his friends too. He strides over, a hand on his pack slings and one in his pocket.

“What’s up with Nash over there?” Terry quips, coming to a halt after he invited himself to the group. From afar, they resembled zoo occupants, judging animals from behind thick glass. Up close he realized it’s more personal than that, and crueler too.

“Trying to get Blade back.” Max answers, inclining in Terry’s direction to keep her voice low. Her, Dana, and Chelsea couldn’t take their eyes off the arguing ex-couple. Blade clutching her comp-book close to her chest, and Nelson as irritated as Terry’d ever seen him. If he isn’t mistaken, a malicious curl to Blade’s lips has him deducing she’s asked her ex to prove himself.

Nelson emits a loud and jarring noise of frustration. Blade’s unaffected, but Dana clutches onto Terry’s arm out of habit.

Terry glances curiously between the girls. It’s not unlike Nelson Nash to cause a scene, and it’s not unlike Terry to remind people like that to cool off. “Maybe I should step in.” he suggests, that determined tone of his accentuated with his one stride toward the situation. Not only does Dana clutch tighter, but Chelsea catches his other limb, effectively arresting him.

“No way, McGinnis, you’ll make it worse!” Chelsea chides under her breath, and surprisingly meets his questioning gaze to place emphasis on her request. “Besides, Blade’s handling herself just fine.” She gestures her chin discretely towards how Blade’s countenance shifts to a mischievous shade.

“She’s makin’ him do something— what’s she makin’ him do?” Terry addresses the throng at and unacceptable decibel, and all three of them shush him in response. His brows upturn; he had no time to apologize before the girls exclaim and corral him elsewhere at the sight of Nelson’s head turning their way because of their noise.

The thrill of narrowly escaping had the three of them snickering to themselves. Not to mention the reminder of what Blade is asking of the bully.

Dana wraps herself around Terry’s bicep, closing in so she could confess the secret. “She’s making him wear a bra.” No sooner had she finished her sentence than they erupted in a fit of giggles. It’s a particularly innocent dare, yet they drew such joy from it.

Terry crosses his arms, cocking a brow as if to sell a playfully scolding persona. One that made Dana and Chelsea specifically think they’d stumbled upon comedy gold. “Why? ‘Cause he’s a chauvinist? It’ll teach him some sort of lesson?”

“I think the more appropriate term you’re looking for is ‘misogynist’, McGinnis.” Max corrects, unable to stifle her own grin. “You gotta admit, you’d’ve never thought Blade would make him think he’s got a shot, just for a silly little prank like that.”

“It’s so simple but he won’t do it.” Chelsea predicts, leaning back against a wall, shaking her head at the ordeal.

Terry’s morbid curiosity gets the better of him, and he maneuvers to peer around the corner, spying on the topic of their conversation. Blade doesn’t seem so amused anymore, and Nelson’s taken to gripping her wrist to keep her from running away. She yanks it out of his reach, and Terry’s jaw clenches. It’s better if they work it out, she’s not in any real danger. “If I were Blade I’d make him jump off the roof for me.” the phrase slips out, an exaggeration at worst, no way he means it.

Chelsea scoffs. “Oh, c’mon, Terr, he’s not that bad.”

Terry flashes her a look. “Maybe not.”

[biohzrdouss]

Terre des damnés, a new creative project.

Greetings! My name is Max, also known as biohzrd(ous). The following text contains a short teaser of one of my works in progress titled “Terre des damnés”. This translates to Land of the Damned in French. This story starts with a man named Davi Serrano who is one of the first outsiders to discover the remote land located in an unknown part of France in late December of 2007. Davi works for a worldwide foundation to research and handle those not of humankind who cause harm. As the world is sheltered from the knowledge of these kinds of things that live on Earth, special forces of people are trained to continue to control the balance between those of the supernatural and humans. While in this land, Davi discovers multiple important figures in the story. The lord of the castle, the maiden of the mansion, the priestess of the cathedral, and the captain of the bay. This story will contain vampire-like beings, spirits, the living dead, religion, gothic horror, the supernatural, and much more. My writing is heavily inspired by my favorite pieces of media like the Soulsborne games, the Resident Evil franchise, and classic gothic horror tales told across the world. This story is written not of the intent of a book or novel, but more in a videogame-like manner.  I hope you enjoy this teaser for my story and begin to look forward to the completed work!

Quick FYI : This story takes place in late December - early January of 2007.

As Davi moves through the town, an uncomfortable feeling running down his spine, something was off about this place and he wasn't entirely sure what it was. As his feet carry him through the snow, crunching beneath his feet as he made his way to the large bridge, leading upon the ever so ominous castle before him. He stands front and center on the bridge, his eyes glistening with the light of the torches that line and light the path forward. Large, shiny plaques made of metal with intricate lettering above the bridge read “Château d'Auclair” Something about reading those words made Davi’s hair stand up on his body. He scanned the large frame of the building, seeing how massive it was, it even made the mountains surrounding him appear small. Davi continued to drag himself through the snow, each movement leaving him with less distance from the castle. Its dark exterior left no hope of anything different to await him inside. The castle's multiple towers all made their way to sharp points, stone statues lined the rooftops and stared down at him, and lush amounts of trees lined the castle outskirts but ended due to the towering stone walls. Various windows from the castle glowed with light, providing a slight warmth to the view, but simply reminding Davi something was residing inside. The gothic architecture of the shadowing building was precisely done, beautiful indeed but still gave a sense of unrest. Snow lay on the frostbitten greenery outside the castle gate that was surprisingly not overgrown, but well gardened. Before arriving in this land, Davi had never heard of this place. He had traveled across Europe his whole life and hadn't ever been aware of this location. France was one he knew on the back of his hand yet somehow disguised this large area of land. Something about this land was different, he could tell there was a dark explanation for everything surrounding him. A large, Victorian-era mansion was not too far from the castle. It was the first thing he made his way to, but when he arrived all the doors were locked, and the windows were sealed shut. He was too set on addressing the largest building then to worry about entering the home. In the center of the valley was a medium-sized town. The locals were scarce, as the residents believed there was a curse placed upon them. Just a week before Davi arrived, one late night the local watchmaker was seen limping through the streets of town alone. A woman walked up to him to ensure he was alright but was immediately attacked by the man. Reportedly, he clawed at her face and bit a chunk of flesh from her neck. They continued to attack and spread the infection toward almost half of the village until Sunday when they all seemed to have disappeared. Later they found out they were all swarming the cathédrale de Sainte Marie-Christine. Their bodies were shredded of all hair, and their skin a pale blue, appearing frozen. Davi hoped to seek answers in Château d'Auclair, but would he? He asked this question to himself as he made contact with the stone flooring that connected to the wooden bridge leading to the castle entrance. Davi stood there for a moment, catching his breath in the icy air. Looking down, he shook the snow on his boots. As he looked back up, he took a deep breath & began to walk on the bridge and into the castle...

I hope this short teaser for what is soon to come sparked your interest! I am looking forward to creating this more and more. I will indeed be creating artwork and visuals for characters & locations. I already have vision boards located on Pinterest and even playlists on Spotify which I will be posting as well. Thank you for reading all of this if you have, Max <3

[mrprettywhenhecries]

i don’t think you notice (what you did to me) [b.h]

nine. | you give love a bad name

Billy Hargrove ✘ Win Lewis (ofc)

⇾ w.c. 4.9k words ⇾ warning(s). canon x oc pairing, f!oc, angst angst angst, domestic abuse, homophobic language, violence, break ups ⇾ a/n. this chapter has an unhappy ending, but it's not the end of the story, dw.

[ masterlist ] [ win lewis bio ]

Picking up her tube of mascara, Win leaned in closer to her vanity mirror to put the finishing touches on her makeup when the bright green corded phone at her elbow rang, making her jump.

“Jesus!” she hissed, reaching for the phone.  “Y’ello?” she answered, resting the receiver between her cheek and shoulder so she could finish her makeup while talking.

“Hey, baby.”  

Billy’s voice on the other end of the line, however, brought a grin to her face.

“What’s happening?  You about to head over?” she asked, giddier than usual for their date – it had been a while since they’d gone anywhere other than Lover’s Lake.

“Uh–” Billy hesitated, blowing an exasperated sigh.  “Not yet,” he answered, annoyance thick in his voice.  “Neil and Susan haven’t gotten back from their dumb shopping trip yet and I have to stay here with Max til they do,” he grumbled.

“Oh…” Win breathed, her grin slipping for a moment til an idea hit her.  “That’s okay, I’ll just get a ride there and we can hang out til they get back,” she suggested.

There was a beat of silence before Billy replied.  “You sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Win assured him, twisting her mascara shut and grabbing the phone as she straightened.  “I’ll just call Holly for a lift.  I’ll see you soon, kay?”

“Alright, see ya soon, Princess,” Billy replied before hanging up, sounding a little less peeved than he had.

As soon as she heard the dial tone, Win punched in Holly’s number, hoping her friend wouldn’t be too busy to give her a ride.  She half thought about searching for the key to the garage and borrowing the Chevelle, but Holly picked up before she could give it any serious thought.

“Hampton residence, Holly speaking.”

“Hey Hols, it’s Win, think you could do me a solid and give me a ride to Billy’s?” she asked, curling the phone cord around her finger idly.

“Yeah sure.  There something wrong with his car?”

“Nah, he’s stuck at home with his stepsister til his folks get back from Terre Haute,” Win explained.  “I figured I’d go keep him company til they get back and we can leave for our date from there.”

“Yeah, course!  I’ll be there in ten.”

It wasn’t long before Holly arrived in her dad’s car, her little brothers in the back seat.  

“You brought the whole family along,” Win laughed, turning in her seat to wave to Josh and Sammy.

“Yeah, they wanted to go to Dairy Queen after I drop you off,” Holly sighed, making a face at them in the rear view mirror before grinning.

“Where’s Steve?  I’m surprised you’re not with him tonight,” Win pointed out and Holly’s grin slipped.

“I dunno, actually.  I haven’t been able to get a hold of him all day,” she admitted, chewing her lip nervously.

“Oh," Win breathed, frowning.  "Well, I’m sure he’s just busy with something and he’ll call you as soon as he can,” she assured her friend, hoping it was true and that he wasn’t trying to win back Nancy Wheeler or something dumb like that.

When they pulled up in front of the Hargrove residence, Win noticed Neil’s car in the drive and relief washed through her.  At least now Billy would be free to leave.

“Thanks again for the ride, Hol,” Win said as she climbed out, waving once more to her brothers before she turned toward the house and made her way up the walk.

When she knocked on the front door, it was Susan who answered, her eyes going wide at the sight of Win.

“Hey Susan, I’m supposed to meet Billy,” she said, her smile slipping as Billy’s step mom didn’t move aside to let her in, instead glancing nervously back into the house and flinching.

“I’m sorry, dear, i-it’s not exactly a good time… Why don’t you come back later?  O-or I could let Billy know you stopped by and he could call you?” she suggested, her voice trembling slightly.

Win stared past her into the house, only half hearing her as Billy and Neil’s voices echoed from within.

“Where is she?  Where’s Max?” Neil’s voice demanded.

“I don’t know.”  

“You don’t know?” Neil scoffed incredulously.

“Look, I’m sure she just, I dunno, went to the arcade or something.  I’m sure she’s fine.”  Billy huffed.

“You were supposed to watch her.” 

“I know, Dad.  I was.  It’s just that you guys were three hours late, and well, I have a date.  I’m sorry, okay?”

“So that’s why you’ve been staring at yourself in the mirror like some faggot, instead of watching your sister?” 

Win tensed at the turn the conversation had taken, chewing her lip as she strained her ears to listen, Susan still blocking her way, her own head tilted as if she were listening as well.

“I’ve been looking after her all week, Dad.  Okay?  Look, she wants to run off, then that’s her problem, all right?  She’s thirteen years old!  She shouldn’t need a full time babysitter,” Billy exclaimed, his music shutting off.  “And she’s not my sister!” he spat.

The sound of something heavy slamming against the wall was followed by Neil’s level voice.  “What did we talk about?” There was a beat and then the loud crack of a slap, and Win felt her body move without thinking, pushing past Susan to run to Billy’s room, her heart in her throat.

When she reached his open door, she saw Billy pinned to the wall, his father’s hand gripping his chin, holding him in place more so with his sharp gaze than his grip, and she froze.  Billy’s cheek stung bright red and his eyes swam with unshed tears.

“What. Did. We. Talk. About?” Neil repeated slowly.

Billy swallowed, his eyes not leaving his father’s.  For a moment Win thought he wasn’t going to respond.

“Respect and responsibility,” he answered levelly, his voice low, almost hoarse.

Win felt Susan join her, hovering next to her anxiously, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Billy.

“That’s right,” Neil said.  “Now, apologize to Susan.”

“I’m sorry, Susan,” Billy ground out, staring straight ahead, a quiet defiance in his stare as if he were balancing on a razor’s edge.

“It’s okay, Neil, really–” Susan spluttered, her voice barely there, trembling pathetically.

“No, it’s not okay,” Neil snapped.  “Nothing about his behaviour is okay, and now he’s gunna make up for it.  He’s gunna call that whore he’s seeing and cancel their date.  Then he’s gunna go find his sister, like the good, kind, respecting brother that he is.  Isn’t that right, Billy?” Neil asked, expecting to be obeyed.

“A-actually, Neil, she’s a-already here…” Susan stuttered, but he ignored her, not even bothering to look back at his wife.  Billy however, finally shifted his red rimmed gaze, his glossy eyes meeting Win’s across the room.  As soon as he realized she was there, his jaw tensed, embarrassment radiating off him.

“ISN’T THAT RIGHT?” Neil yelled when Billy didn’t respond and his eyes snapped back to his father while Susan flinched.

“HEY!” Win cried, unable to hold back any longer.  Without thinking, she surged forward to grab Neil’s shoulder, hauling him back.  “Leave him alone!” 

Neil spun to face her, his expression livid, but Win didn’t back down, righteous fury running through her veins.

“Get. Out.” Neil ground out, his eyes flashing dangerously.  “This is none of your business!”

“You made it my business when you laid hands on my boyfriend,” she snapped, but Neil merely scoffed.

“My son, the pussy.  You need a girl to fight your battles for you?” he taunted, his voice dripping contempt.

At his words, Billy flinched, his mouth tightening as his eyes squeezed shut for a moment, as if he were fighting to keep it together.

“The only pussy I see here, is you,” Win replied coldly, and Neil’s head swiveled to her, silent rage painting his face.  

“A real man would never hit his wife or kids,” Win spat.  “Does it make you feel big when you scare them into submission?” she demanded, though she didn’t expect an answer, nor did she wait for one.

“Fear isn’t the same as respect, and no one here respects you, you fucking pig.”

For a moment, she thought she’d gone too far, her nerves close to snapping as she waited for all hell to break loose, but Neil merely stared her down, his hands balling into fists as his jaw clenched tighter, his muscles flexing.  Despite the fear that kept her heart in her throat, Win lifted her chin defiantly as she stepped between him and Billy.

“What’re you gunna do, Mr. Hargrove?  You gunna hit me too?” 

He held her glare for another minute before turning away, Susan scurrying back from the door to let him through.

“I said.  Get out,” he repeated, pausing in the doorway, his eyes fixing on Billy.  “And you.  Find your sister.”

Without another word, he strode away, not even waiting to see if he’d be obeyed or not and Susan quickly followed after him, her hands gripping her skirt hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

As soon as his dad left the room, Billy seemed to deflate.  The angry tears he’d been fighting back in his father’s presence finally spilled over, rolling down his cheeks as he shut his eyes, taking a shuddering breath before lashing out in frustration, slamming his hand against the wall.

“Billy… are you alright?” Win asked, taking a hesitant step toward him.

When he finally looked at her, his expression hardened, shame twisting his features at the reminder of her presence—the reminder of what she’d witnessed.  Hastily wiping his eyes, he sniffed, grabbing his car keys before his fingers circled her wrist, dragging her behind him toward the front door.

Once they stepped into the empty street he released her, turning on her, his pent up frustration finally finding its release, even if it was the wrong one.

“Why don’t you mind your own damn business!” Billy bellowed, throwing his arms up.  “I didn’t need your fuckin’ help!” he spat, his voice shaking with rage.

“Your dad’s a fuckin’ bully and someone had to stand up to him!” Win yelled back, her heart still hammering in her chest while her veins buzzed with adrenaline, her own anger rushing back to the forefront.

“You sayin’ I ain’t man enough to stand up to him?” Billy hissed, his voice dangerously low.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”  Win shook her head, standing her ground.  She managed to keep her voice level in the face of his misplaced rage.  “You don’t deserve to be treated that way.  It’s not right!”

Instead of soothing him, however, Win’s words only seemed to fan his anger hotter.  “I don’t need your fucking pity!” he screamed, his voice hoarse with emotion, but Win didn’t flinch.  Instead, she took a step closer, her gaze fixed on Billy’s flushed face, his eyes red rimmed and swimming, fighting to hold back more tears of frustration.

“This isn’t pity,” she said, her voice trembling softly.  “Like it or not, asshole, I actually give a shit about you, so you better get used to it.”

Her words seemed to knock the wind out of him, his next retort dying on his tongue as he tried to process how that made him feel.  Win took advantage of his stunned state to step closer, wrapping her arms around him.

“You’re not weak.  I’ve never thought you were,” she whispered, pressing her face to his chest.

In that moment, the rest of his fight dissolved and Billy hesitantly pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin.

Not trusting his voice, or maybe not finding the right words to say, he merely held her, letting the silence stretch.

“Come on, let’s go find Max,” he said, finally pulling away, rubbing the dampness from his cheeks as he slipped behind the Camaro’s wheel.

———

The first place Billy stopped in their search for Max was the arcade, but her telltale red hair was nowhere to be seen, and Keith confirmed that he hadn’t seen her there since earlier that day.  The next place Billy decided to check was Lucas Sinclair’s house, having seen him hanging around Max, despite his warnings for her to stay away.  His folks hadn’t seen her either, but pointed them in the direction of Mike Wheeler’s house, saying the kids usually ended up there to hang out.

Once more climbing back into the car to continue what was starting to feel like a wild goose chase, Win could sense Billy’s growing tension.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”

Billy let out a heavy breath as he ran his hands over the steering wheel.  “She’s the one who ought to be worried when I find her,” he huffed, pulling back onto the dark road, heading for Maple Street.  “That brat ruined our night and got me in hot water.  She fucking owes me,” he growled.

Win didn’t know how to respond, so she held her tongue.  If she was being honest, she was a little resentful that Max had snuck out, causing problems for Billy, though she knew not all of it was the younger girl’s fault…

By the time they parked in front of the Wheeler’s, the sun had completely set, blanketing Hawkins in darkness, a thick cover of clouds rolling in to blot out the stars overhead.  

Win circled the car, falling into step with Billy as they made their way up the walk, his hand lightly touching the small of her back as he rang the doorbell.  Several seconds ticked by and no one answered the door.  The light from the tv inside was visible through the lacy curtains, so it was obvious someone was home.

Billy’s frown deepened and he impatiently rang the bell again, shoving his hand back in his jacket pocket against the cold while they waited.  When the door finally yanked open, Mrs. Wheeler stood there in a robe, her hair messily pinned up and an annoyed look on her face.  When her eyes fell on Billy however, her expression quickly changed, a hesitant smile curving her lips and Win’s brows furrowed when she noticed Billy’s gaze fall to the exposed swath of the older woman’s chest for a moment.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Mrs. Wheeler asked, looking between the two of them, finally pulling her gaze from Billy.

“Billy, Billy Hargrove,” he answered, his voice lowering to a drawl as a grin stretched across his face, his usual self confident mask slipping into place.  “This is my girlfriend, Win,” he added, nodding toward her at his side.

“Oh, are you guys here to see Nancy?” Mrs. Wheeler asked, tilting her head.  “I don’t think she’s home–”

“No, no no no,” Billy cut in quickly, shaking his head.  “We’re actually looking for my little sister, Max.  Goes by Maxine.  She’s been missing all day,” he explained, his expression dripping faux concern.  “To be honest with you, I’m uh, I’m worried sick,” he continued and Win had to fight not to roll her eyes.  “I thought she was at Lucas’, but Mrs. Sinclair said your house is the uh, the designated hangout, so you know… here we are,” he said, spreading his arms.

“Oh.  Oh, I see,” Mrs. Wheeler murmured, glancing to Win and quickly away again before pulling her robe further closed against the chill.  “I’m afraid she’s not here.  None of the kids are at the moment,” she explained apologetically.

Billy’s expression tightened for a second, though Mrs. Wheeler didn’t seem to notice.  “Do you know where they might be?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice smooth and not let his facade crack.

“Uhm, if they’re not at the Sinclair’s, then I would try the Byers’,” Mrs. Wheeler suggested, stepping aside.  “Come inside, I’ll write down the address for you,” she offered.

Billy nodded, nudging Win ahead of him before stepping into the house, a cloying warmth engulfing them.  In the kitchen Mrs. Wheeler picked up a pen and grabbed a sticky note, leaning over the counter to scrawl the address while Billy pulled the lid off the nearby cookie jar, fishing a small vanilla sandwich cookie out and bringing it to his lips while he waited.

“The drive is kind of hard to see in the dark, so you really have to look if you don’t want to accidentally pass it,” she murmured, dropping the pen and lifting her head, her eyes once more seeming to caress Billy’s form and Win nearly snatched the note from her hand.

“Thanks, we’ll keep a look out,” she said tersely.

“You’re a real lifesaver, you know that?” Billy drawled, taking another bite of the cookie with a smirk.

Mrs. Wheeler had the audacity to blush, patting her hair nervously as she glanced away.  “When you see Mike, will you tell him to come home, please?” she asked and Win grabbed Billy’s arm, reminding him of her presence. “We will,” she grumbled, practically pulling Billy to the door with her.

As soon as they were back in the car, his grin fell away and Win rounded on him.

“What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” Billy asked, starting the car, his hand sliding over the wheel as he pulled back onto the road.

“You were awfully friendly back there,” Win huffed, hating how jealous she sounded.

“Oh please, I was just buttering her up to get the information we needed,” Billy grunted, carefully not looking at her.

“Yeah sure, like I believe that for a second,” she muttered.  “I saw the way you looked at her, Billy.”

“What are you trying to say, Win?  Huh?”  Billy finally looked at her.  “You think I wanna fuck that cougar?” he spat, waiting for her to respond.  “One, I’m with you, so no.  And two, I’ve got bigger shit on my mind right now,” he snapped, leaving Win internally kicking herself.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” she mumbled, watching the house numbers for the one they wanted.  

Silence fell, stretching for a long moment until she noticed the overgrown drive up ahead.  “It’s there,” she said, pointing, and Billy grunted, pulling off the road to stop in front of a dark run down looking house half hidden by trees.  Several dark shapes appeared in the front window before ducking back down again quickly.

“I think we found them,” Win said wryly, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“You stay here,” Billy muttered, kicking his door open, a dangerous glint to his eyes.  As he straightened, he pulled his Marlboros from his jacket pocket and pulled a cigarette from the pack with his lips, lighting it as he watched Steve Harrington step down from the porch, a dish towel draped over his shoulder as if he’d been inside doing chores.

“Am I dreaming, or is that you, Harrington?” Billy called, leaning against the Camaro.

“Yeah, it’s me, don’t cream your pants,” Steve sighed, as if Billy was the last person he wanted to see at the moment.

Billy held his gaze as he shrugged his leather jacket off, as if preparing for a fight.  “What are you doing here, amigo?” he asked, coating the word in as much scorn as he could.

“I could ask you the same thing.  Amigo,” Steve replied levelly, planting his hands on his hips.

“Looking for my step sister, a little birdie told me she was here,” Billy replied, his cigarette bobbing as he spoke.

“Huh, that’s weird, I don’t know her.”  

“Small, red head, a bit of a bitch?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry buddy.”  Steve shrugged.

Billy let out a derisive snort, shaking his head.  “You know, Harrington, this whole situation… it’s giving me the heebie jeebies.”

“Yeah, why’s that?” 

“Hmm, let’s see, my thirteen year old sister goes missing all day, and then I find her with you in a stranger’s house, and you lie to me about it,” Billy exclaimed, ticking off each point on his fingers.

“Man, were you dropped too much as a child, or what?” Steve scoffed, trying to brush the accusation off and redirect the conversation.  “Like, I said, she’s not here,” he insisted.

“Then who is that?” Billy asked, pointing to the window with his cigarette, where Max’s face flashed for a moment before disappearing  just as quickly.

Steve turned to follow Billy’s gesture and winced.  “Oh shit, listen–” he began, but Billy didn’t give him a chance to explain before rushing forward to knock him off his feet, sending him sprawling on his back.

“Shit,” Win breathed, kicking the door open and rounding the car as Billy leaned over Steve, a sneer on his face. 

“Thought I told you to plant your feet.”

“Billy–!” Win called, but he was already on his way inside, throwing the door open, murder in his eyes.

“Steve, are you okay?” Win asked breathlessly, helping him to his feet.

“Yeah, c’mon, before your boyfriend does something stupid,” Steve exclaimed, scrambling up; the two of them running into the house.  

Win barely noticed the mess of papers haphazardly plastering the walls and floors, covering nearly every surface and branching out down the hall like some dark system of roots.  Her stomach in her throat, she only had eyes for Billy who had Lucas pinned to the wall, his fists balled in the boy’s jacket as he leaned in to sneer in his face–the scene a near replica of what she’d witnessed earlier, the tables turned.

“Since Maxine won’t listen to me, maybe you will.  Stay away from her,” Billy growled, his voice dangerously low.  When Lucas didn’t respond, he screamed in his face; all the anger, all the frustration he’d swallowed down earlier was loosed now on a new target.  “Stay away from her!  DO YOU HEAR ME?”

“I said, GET OFF OF ME!” Lucas yelled back, his knee coming up between Billy’s legs hard enough to make him double over, loosening his grip on the boy’s jacket.

“You’re so dead, Sinclair!” Billy hissed, and Win gasped as Steve lunged past her, his fist connecting with Billy’s jaw while he was still distracted.

“No, you are!”

“Guys, stop it!” she cried, but Billy didn’t even seem to see her, his eyes wild as he turned back to Steve, a deranged laugh leaving his mouth.

“Looks like you got some fire in you after all, huh?” he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide.  “I’ve been waiting to meet this King Steve everybody’s been telling me about so much.”

Steve’s jaw flexed as his eyes darted from Billy to Win.  “Get out,” he said firmly, pushing Billy back by the tips of his fingers, clearly trying to deescalate the situation.  But Billy wasn’t having it.

Without warning Billy swung, his fist catching air as Steve ducked, hitting him back.

“Billy, stop!  Please!” Win cried from the edge of the kitchen with Max and the others, her heart still in her throat, fear holding her captive.

Pinned back against the sink, Billy reached out, grabbing a plate from the counter to smash over Steve’s head, leaving him dazed as he stumbled back.

“No one tells me what to do!” Billy growled, back on the offensive.

Before Win knew what was happening, Steve was on the ground and Billy was on top of him, aiming blow after blow to Steve’s face until Steve went limp, knocked out cold, and yet Billy didn’t stop, all his anger rushing out of him in a deluge with no signs of abating.

“BILLY!” Win screamed, finally finding her legs and rushing forward, trying to pull him away.  “Stop!  You’re gunna kill him!” she sobbed, but Billy didn’t want to listen, his elbow flying back in an attempt to shrug her off.

Pain bloomed behind Win’s eye and she stumbled back, holding her face, her trembling fingers coming away bloodied where her lip split.

In a flurry of movement, Max pushed past her, grabbing a syringe from the table.  “Wait!” Win gasped, grabbing the girl’s wrist as she pulled back to jab it in her brother’s neck.

Max’s head whipped around to gape at Win, the two staring each other down for a second before Max dropped the syringe, wrenching her arm out of Win’s grasp.  Instead, she grabbed a bat resting against the wall, several long nails jutting out from the end.

“BILLY!” she yelled before the bat whistled past his ear.

Surprised, he wrenched away from the bat, falling backwards as she swung again, his eyes going wide as she stood over him, holding the bat over her head.

“From here on out, you leave me and my friends alone!” she growled, her blue eyes flashing.  “Do you understand?”

Billy stared back at her defiantly.  “Screw you,” he ground out.

Without warning, Max brought the bat down between his legs, just missing his crotch, the nails biting into the wood floor beneath him.  “Say you understand it!  SAY IT!” she bellowed, bringing the bat up again threateningly.

Billy swallowed.  “...I understand,” muttered reluctantly, indignant resignation in his voice.

“Good,” Max breathed, her friends staring at her in shock.  “I’m taking these,” she said, crouching to grab the car keys from Billy’s pocket.  Surprisingly, he didn’t argue.  It wasn’t until the others carried Steve out to the Camaro and Max jumped behind the wheel that Billy pushed himself up, letting out a frustrated roar, and Win winced as he swiped his hand out, knocking the contents of the table to the floor.

It wasn’t til he took a deep breath that he turned around, almost having forgotten Win was there.  

“Are you alright?” she asked, hanging back, for the first time, she was wary of him, her face beginning to throb where he’d elbowed her.

“Am I alright?” Billy repeated incredulously, slowly stepping closer, the floorboards creaking under his weight.  “Let’s see, shall we?  My step sister just stole my car and left us here to go God-knows-where in the middle of the fucking night with a bunch of boys,” he exclaimed, his voice raising with each word.  “And guess who’s gunna take the fucking blame for it?  No guesses?” he asked, a dangerous tone to his voice.  “That’s right, me.”

Win felt ice drop into her stomach at the thought of what Neil would do to Billy if he showed up without Max in tow.

“We could call the cops,” she suggested, interrupted by Billy’s harsh laughter.

“Yeah, sure, the cops!” he snorted.  “I’m sure they’ll be a great help,” he taunted derisively, pacing around the room like a tiger in a cage.

“Billy–” Win murmured, but he turned back to her sharply, interrupting her.

“Nobody fucking asked you!”

“Billy, I’m only trying to help,” she muttered, wrapping an arm around herself with a frown.

“Yeah well, I didn’t ask for your FUCKING help!” he spat.  

For a long moment Win merely stared at him.  As much as she felt for him–her heart aching at the thought of the situation he was in at home–Steve’s bloodied face as Billy kept hitting him, the fear on Lucas’ face as Billy had him pinned against the wall, and even the predatory way he’d smiled at Mrs. Wheeler earlier kept replaying through her mind, twisting her stomach further.  And now this.  The way he’d turned on her when she was probably literally the only person in Hawkins who cared enough about him to try to help made something inside her snap.

“Alright, fine.  I’m done,” she whispered.

“What do you mean you’re done?” Billy asked, a frown pulling at his features.

“I mean I’m done, Billy.  I can’t do this anymore,” she said, shaking her head, her voice trembling.  “You just attacked a fucking kid!  You beat Steve to a pulp, and I know you didn’t mean to, but this—“ she paused, gesturing to her split lip and the purple bruise beginning to bloom across her cheekbone.  “You did this.”

Billy’s mouth fell open as he finally took in the state of her face, panic crossing his visage when he realized what he’d done, but Win didn’t let him speak, her own frustration spilling out like word vomit.

“I get it!  I get why you’re angry all the time.  Your dad is a fucking piece of work and you don’t deserve to be treated the way he treats you, but if this is how you channel it?  Lashing the fuck out like that?  I can’t do it!” she exclaimed.

Billy’s face darkened.  “So what, all that shit you said about how much you care so much about me, that was a fucking lie?” he demanded, his voice faltering.  “You gunna give up on me?  Walk out like my fucking mother?” he spat, gasping a shuddering breath and Win turned away so he wouldn’t see the way her eyes watered dangerously, her tears threatening to spill over.

“No, I fucking meant it.  Fuck, I care so much it hurts!” she cried, squeezing her eyes shut.  “But if you keep down this path, Billy, you know who you’re gunna end up like—?”

Billy’s silence was deafening, his blue eyes boring into her.  “Don’t you fucking say it.  Don’t you dare fucking say it,” he hissed, but Win set her jaw and spat it out.

“You’re gunna end up just like your father.”

She wasn’t ready for the look that crossed Billy’s face, the hurt in his eyes broke her heart in two before his rage returned, gripping her heart like a vice.

“FUCK YOU,” he roared, his finger jabbing at her like a viper.  “FUCK YOU, WIN.”

“Yeah,” she swallowed, a tear streaking down her cheek.  “Fuck me,” she whispered, her voice hard, fighting to keep it together though her lungs burned with the effort.

Billy gave her one last scathing look.  “We’re done,” he hissed, turning on his heel and stalking to the door.

“Yeah, we are…” she murmured, but he was already gone, her broken sobs following him into the night.

⇾ taglist. @super-unpredictable98 @b1tchygh0sts @heartbreak-sandwich @santacarlahorrorshow @vampyreddiemunson @wherethewitchersare @elliethesuperfruitlover

[mel-et-ses-histoires]

Alors Fallout est une série de 8 episodes diffusée sur Prime video et elle est une adaptation de la série de jeux vidéo du même nom.

Le 1er fallout est sortie en 1997 (et j'y ai joué, c'était trop bien, je suis vieille, au secours) et etait un jeux de role en monde ouvert dans un univers post apo.

La serie et les jeux partagent le même univers : une réalité alternative à la notre qui serait bloqué dans son imagerie et dans sa politique dans les années 50. La guerre froide ne s'est jamais terminée et le nucléaire est l'energie du quotidien.

En 2077 la guerre éclate entre les USA et la Chine avant qu'un tapis de bombes mette tout le monde d'accord.

Ceux a la surface vont se débrouiller pendant quelques centaines d'annees avec l'effondrement de la société et la radioactivité qui rend les bebettes très grosses et agressives.

Une partie de l'humanité a également survecue dans des bunkers souterrains qui sont prevus pour s'ouvrir dans quelques générations pour repeupler la terre.

La serie suis (surtout) Lucy, une habitante d'abri qui va devoir quitter son bunker pour explorer le monde et retrouver son pere qui a été capturé par des brigands.

La serie suivra également Maximus, un apprenti soldat d'une faction ultra militarisée "la confrerie de l'acier", ainsi que Cooper, un petit bonhomme de 200 ans, survivant de l'avant guerre tellement irradié par les bombes qu'il est a moitié immortel et plus qu'a moitié défiguré.

Le fait que le perso que l'on commence a suivre soit une habitante d'abri a un gros aventage d'un point de vue narratif : elle ne connaît pas le monde qu'elle explore et le decouvre avec nous, pas de dissonance entre le personnage et le spectateur.

La serie offre un bon développement des personages, chacun a droit a une véritable évolution, le parcours de chacun va le faire évoluer (cas particulier de Cooper qui ne va pas en soi évoluer, c'est nous qui allons comprendre comment il en est arrivé là).

La serie est bien filmé, la colorimétrie est sympa, j'ai bien apprécié que la serie ne fasse pas semblant d'avoir le budget qu'elle n'a pas. Alors il y a beaucoup beaucoup de budget hein, mais la serie n'abuse pas des effets spéciaux, et quand il y en a ils sont bons.

C'est gore (donc c'est bien) mais c'est sage.

Je m'explique, plus la serie de jeux fallout avance plus elle devient frilleuse (merci les réseaux sociaux qui font qu'on peut se prendre une manif d'évangélistes si tout le monde n'est pas ultra gentil). La philosophie du 1 était qu'on était tres libre dans ce mondz où la société n'existe plus. On peut etre canibale, esclavagiste, sacrifier des gens ou etre un super samaritain, mais dans tous les cas il faudra assumer les conséquences.

Dans la serie alors que le monde s'est effondré tout le monde semble globalement pas bien méchant, pas bien malveillant. On est loin d'un Mad max. La violence cherche a compenser mais une moralité un peu plus grise aurait été pas mal.

Sinon il y a un peu d'humour, qui marche tres bien, des références aux jeux de partout mais rien de soulants et surtout ce qui est tres sympa c'est qu'on sent que l'univers est très large. Il y a les communautés qui survivent, les brigands, différentes factions qui cherchent a recréer chacun un modele de société (la nouvelle république de Californie, la confrerie de l'acier, l'enclave, l'entreprise Vault tech a l'origine des abris qui n'a pas disparu, etc) et aucune n'est vraiment un "bon choix", chacune a sa vision du monde.

Bref c'est une bonne adaptation mais surtout c'est une bonne serie. Pas de romance à la con, pas de sexualisation des personages, un robot aspirateur central a l'intrigue (si si) etc.

Je recommande / 20.

[claudehenrion]

Bienvenue –si j'ose !-- en enfer...

Dans un délai qui risque d'être court, cette ''Fête de Pâques 2024'' restera comme la date officielle du début de la fin de ce qui fut la France : depuis le 15 novembre 2013, ce blog, s'appuyant sur mon arabophonie et ma connaissance de la civilisation arabe –c'est à dire, à peu de choses près, le Coran-- a répété, billet après billet, que nous allions vers une bérézina... Combien de gens de bonne foi et bien intentionnés m'ont écrit que j'étais pessimiste, que je voyais tout en noir...

Et soudain, voilà que toutes les boutiques de sondages se mettent à changer de discours et découvrent ce qu'elles refusaient de voir : les français sont inquiets à en paniquer, ils sont plus pessimistes que je ne l'ai jamais été, et les vrais chiffres sortent enfin des armoires où on les tenait cachés… Faut-il que tout aille mal, pour que nos armadas de vrais parasites/faux démocrates, nos laïcards de salon, nos soi-disant républicains, nosgauchistes d'opérette et nos révolutionnaires du ''Flore'' en soient soudain réduits à dire la vérité, comme de vulgaires hommes de Droite : neuf français sur dix osent enfin dire qu'ils ont peur, dans leur vie de tous les jours, et que l'insécurité progresse à toute vitesse... 72% d'entre avouent ne pas faire confiance au gouvernement pour les protéger (dixit Odoxa, devenue brutalement honnête), et 6 sur 10 ont décidé de se défendre eux-mêmes (alarmes, armes de poing, sports de combat).

Jusque là, on pouvait craindre qu'une passion pour le déni du réel, un attrait pour les idées de Gauche –toutes mauvaises-- et un refus de ce qui n'est pas conforme au grand mensonge qui sert de fondement à toutes nos idéologies mortifères, ne soient devenus de plus en plus difficiles à contourner : le ''système'' en place avait réussi à tout bloquer ! Des gouvernements peuplés d'aveugles et de nuls (mais tout puissants) nous interdisaient tout ce qui n'était pas ''pile-poil'' conforme à leur mensonge, via l'injustifiable (et démodé) enrégimentement à Gauche de 99 % des journalistes (qui doivent être tenus pour co-responsables de tous les maux qui nous tombent dessus). Ils ont été jusqu'à inventer des ''pandémies'' inexistantes pour nous cacher la seule pandémie (qui, elle, en est une, et ''mahousse'' !) qui nous menace vraiment : l'islam triomphant.... aidé dans sa marche par leurs silences et leurs mensonges ! Cet arsenal mortifère nous conduisait peu à peu là où ils voulaient que nous allions : en enfer. Nous n'y sommes pas encore, mais ''on n'en a jamais été aussi près'' !

Nos lamentables gouvernants, incapables --par système, mais aussi par absence d'intelligence et de référentiels culturels-- de désigner par leur nom toutes les horreurs dont ils ont fait notre quotidien, ont brutalement ouvert les yeux, et viennent tout juste de commencer à entr'apercevoir la série de catastrophes à laquelle leur impéritie et leur imprévoyance ne nous laissent que très peu de chances d'échapper : ceux qui ont vu clair ont baptisé ce drame ''le grand remplacement'', pendant que les idiots-utiles parlaient ''d'une chance pour la France''. Cherchez l'erreur !

On en revient toujours à Camus : ''Mal nommer les choses, c'est ajouter au malheur du monde''... sauf que nos faux guides ne nomment même pas : ils esquivent ! Dans un torrent de pensée à l'envers, ils essaient de nous faire avaler que si on est pour la paix, on est pro-poutine... si on est pour dire la vérité, on est complotiste... et si on aime la France en tant que ce qu'elle est (et non en souhaitant leur enfer-sur-terre), on est facho... Notre cas semblait sans espoir...

Devant ce changement, la panique de nos apprentis-ministricules si peu professionnels devrait faire de la peine à voir... sauf que, ayant fait tout ce qu'il ne fallait pas pour que le ciel leur tombe sur la tête, ils n'ont que ce qu'ils méritent ! Nous allons, nous, souffrir ''un max'', mais en ce qui les concerne... ''c'est bien fait pour leur gueule''. Et ils croient nous impressionner en ayant mis devant chaque église, pour Pâques, (''quoi qu'il en coûte'', ajouterait sans doute leur chef, s'il ne s'était pas réfugié dans un inutile ''sauvetage -sic !'' de la forêt amazonienne --qui, sans lui, est condamnée... tout le monde sait ça !-- en veillant à ce que ses costumes voyagent sur un siège ''First Class'', plein prix. Honte à lui !), des militaires lourdement (?) armés des quelques sarbacanes qui nous restent encore, après que nous ayons sacrifié nos arsenaux et nos réserves stratégiques au fantasme anti-poutinien du chef... La vérité ? On ne les croit plus, c'est tout.

Vous rendez-vous compte de ce que signifie cette déroute en rase campagne ? Au nom d'une ridicule ''laïcité'' résiduelle, vidée de son sens et de tout intérêt, seul le christianisme est interdit de pratique, de respect et de considération, en France, où seuls comptent les choix supposés de quelques minorités, surtout si elles ne sont représentatives de rien ou de quelque dépravation indescriptible... Des pouvoirs hostiles ont pris le pouvoir dans nos banlieues, dans nos villes, nos campagnes, nos villages... et nous avons de moins en moins les moyens d'assurer la sécurité dans nos rues... Si Jules Romains revenait parmi nous, il ne ferait plus de ''Ambert et Issoire'' deux ''trous de province'' où des ''Copains'' (joués, plus tard, par Philippe Noiret, Guy Bedos, Pierre Mondy et Claude Rich, accompagnés par Les Copains d’abord de Georges Brassens) exerceraient leurs talents... mais des lieux de ''points de deal'' ! Sic transit gloria mundi, hélas !

Aujourd'hui, la population française –qui n'ose même plus se revendiquer telle, tremble en permanence pour son intégralité physique (je ne parle même pas de son intégrité morale...) pour ses biens, pour ses femmes et ses filles, pour ses enfants visés par les drogues les plus immondes... Notre langue est battue en brèche et arabisée, notre magnifique culture est niée par celui-là même qui devait la promouvoir, nos modes de vie menacés par la violence la plus barbare, et notre histoire, si riche, remplacée par des enchaînements de bobards dont pas un seul ne tient la route, mais que des ''cavaliers d'Allah'' barbus et sales interdisent de mettre en doute, puisqu'ils sont archi-faux !

Au nom de notre gloire fanée, et dans l'irresponsabilité la plus totale... nous avons fait la danse du ventre pour organiser des jeux olympiques qui ne devraient logiquement plus être ni l'un ni l'autre : nous n'avons plus un kopek vaillant en poche, et ceux que nous jetons par les fenêtres vient de traites tirées sur le futur de nos enfants. La guerre rode partout –en partie par notre arrogance à raconter que nous sommes prêts à la déclencher ''pour de vrai'' sans en avoir le début de l'ombre d'un moyen... Au nom du beau mouvement olympique, nous refusons aux athlètes russes de se produire sous les couleurs de leur pays et d'avoir droit à leur hymne national … qui sont les deux strictes définitions-conditions de l'olympisme... Nous sommes inconséquents, irresponsables et provocateurs, en offrant notre gorge aux tueurs de Daech, du défilé inaugural (''Une folie criminelle'', d'après Alain Bauer) au défilé final... qui risque ''d'être de la revue'' !

Et s'il n'y avait que tout ça... Au fil des ans et des mauvaises idées, c'est par vagues successives que nos lamentables gouvernants qui, initialement nuls, se révèlent dangereux tout azimuts (dixit aussi Alain Bauer) détruisent le bel édifice, construit avec amour, persévérance et tellement d'intelligence par 70 générations de français (qui furent, par moments, gaulois ou gallo-romains) : ils croyaient bâtir un monde... et il a suffi de 2 mandatures de ''lumières éteintes'' pour tout foutre par terre... Oh ! Que j'ai mal, très mal, à ma France !

En rongeant les fondamentaux, ils ont fait s'écrouler les murs... et nous voilà offerts, sans défense, aux dangereux vents du large. Un exemple ? Au moment où le monde entier se réarme, fait des stocks de munitions, re-remplit ses arsenaux... nous nous sommes engagés à offrir, gratos, à l'Ukraine (à qui ça ne sera d'aucune utilité : les carottes sont cuites... et nous, avec ! Là encore, il serait sage de voir le monde tel que 7 humains sur 10 le voient...), la totalité de tout ce que nous aurions pu produire... mais que notre impécuniosité va laisser à l'état de ''rêves éveillés''. Pauvre France ! Lorsque les canons tonneront (ce qui est possible, avec les puérils excès présidentiels !), on pourra continuer à donner au monde ce que nous nous croyons encore capables de donner : de mauvais conseils... à surtout ne pas suivre... Dire qu'il suffisait de si peu... trois fois rien, peut-être...

H-Cl.

[sloshed-cinema]

The Gold Rush (1925)

No matter the era or setting, the leading lady in a Chaplin film always looks like the same flapper archetype. A little out of place in the rough Yukon Territory with her perfectly coiffed curls and sequined slip dresses, Georgia is the apple of the Tramp/Lone Prospector’s eye. Directorial indulgence has been a thing since the start of cinema, as Chaplin’s penchant for his down-on-their-heels self-insert characters ending up with the pretty lady in the end, but it’s nowhere near as ridiculous as, say, Quentin Tarantino’s thing for feet, which nears the point of self-parody with Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood. Put some shoes on, Margot Robbie! Perhaps the key to “getting away with it” is that Chaplin’s Tramp persona is such an endearing figure. Endless pratfalls prove Chaplin’s genius for physical comedy: he’s nearly blown out of a cabin by a strong wind, yet can also be light as a feather and stiff as a board when a chance at a hot breakfast is on the line. His desire for the attention of the leading lady isn’t creepy because he constantly disarms himself with everything, even the most simple task like keeping baggy pants up, proves difficult. There is also a poignancy to the Tramp, here exemplified in his loneliness. Entering the narrative as a solitary figure, almost any encounter he has with others seems to go wrong. Big Jim, starving in the storm-swept cabin with the Tramp, starts to see his fellow captive as a tasty chicken (though they eventually get over that). And most poignantly, the Tramp spends a New Year’s Eve alone after Georgia and company don’t follow up on their plans. Fantasy of company, merriment, and a dinner roll dance fades away to a lonely and cold cabin where the candles burn low and the party crackers go un-popped. Sure, he ends up a millionaire in the end AND gets the girl, but he has to go through quite the ordeal to realize these, and even slips on the stairs on the way to take his last photograph.

While Max Terr’s score for the 1942 re-release of the film garnered him Oscar attention, Carli Elinor’s original setting is truly something special. Combining cheekily rewritten extracts from the classical canon (and some not adjusted at all, as with Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Flight of the Bumblebee”), it creates a lush and romantic world for the Tramp to inhabit, tinged with frost. One of the highlights has to be the New Years Eve sequence, a warm chorale trading off between powerful brass and intimate woodwinds as the film cuts between the boisterous party and the Tramp’s lonely cabin, before dissolving into a version of “Auld Lang Syne.” This lacks the joy of something like its appearance in the end of It’s a Wonderful Life, instead introspective and small.

THE RULES

SIP

The word 'lone' appears in an intertitle.

The Tramp takes a fall.

Someone gets blown through a door.

BIG DRINK

Iris in or out on a scene.

Big Jim hallucinates something.

A new kind of animal appears for the first time.

[midwintermasque]

Companion Spotlight: Azza Azza is another of the angels that were sent to guide Blessed Elua back to Heaven. He chose to stay on Earth and share his forbidden knowledge of navigation. When Terre D’Ange was founded, Azza himself founded the region known as Azzalle along the northern coast. As the patron of navigation and travel, many view Azza as the guide for all people on journeys, with his sextant in one hand and the other outstretched to show the way. With his gift of navigation, he gave his name to the Northern Star that all sailors use to guide their way, calling it the Navigator’s Star. Let the Navigator’s Star guide you through the dark to the Longest Night! Azza’s Guidance will be honoured up to the door sales at the event itself on January 4th!

Buy your tickets here! Art Credit: Sextant, by Max-Kneht on DeviantArt

[e642]

Jsais même pas quoi dire, jsais même pas pk j'écris ça je vais le supp après quand la colère sera passée mais c'est fou comment mon mec s'en pète un rein de ma gueule. Purée quand il a un rhume il appelle sa famille pour leur faire ses adieux, moi quand jsuis à 47 de fièvre j'ai même pas un "ça va ?". Ptdrrrr ça fait 5j aujourd'hui qu'il me raconte comme sa vie est dure avec ses contrôles. Mec t'as jamais vécu une période de partiels, tes coincé dans un but, tes maths je les ai faites en spé maths au lycée, t'sais même pas faire une racine carré sur ta calculatrice primaire. La con de ta race réveille toi, si tes au max de ton potentiel intellectuel deja bien maigre maintenant, tu vas faire comment dans ta vie ? Une école dinge, c'est ce qu'il veut, personne n'ose lui dire qu'il sera pas reçu. T'as raison, après avoir passé 6 mois à te toucher les couilles, tu peux te permettre de stresser et de rusher sur la dernière semaine qui te reste pour tes tes contrôles. Jpp, jsuis comme lui j'étudie pas mais jfais pas chier la terre entière en disant que jsuis débordée. J'assume. Putain j'ai la dégaine d'un carnet de doléances ? Non, donc viens pas de plaindre. Mais heureusement que jsuis loin et couchée. T'sais pas le culot, il me dit "tu veux pas venir samedi soir et partir dimanche matin pour qu'on se voie ?". Existe-t-il une manière plus facile de me dire que t'as envie de baiser ? J'ai beau me creuser et nan hein. Jpense pas. Jme detache d'une force. Jprenais ces quelques jours comme des vacances de lui mais jsuis malade. J'ai le karma au trousse alors que jsuis clean. C'est pas moi qui ai trompé mais c'est moi qui prend tarif mais pitié

[sweetika]

~Deux cœurs, Deux mondes~

En 2141, la terre est ravagée par un gaz toxique nommé, "Le gaz mortel" qui a transformé à jamais le monde que tel qu'on connait. Ce gaz est omniprésent dans des zones extérieures des anciennes villes, rendant l'air mortel pour les humains. Invisible à l'œil nu, le gaz tue rapidement ceux qui n'ont pas de masques respiratoires. Il est à l'origine d'une nouvelle race, les géants.

Les humains vivent sous la protection des dômes, coupés du monde extérieur et ses dangers. Les dômes sont autarciques, avec des systèmes complexes pour recycler l'air, l'eau et les autres ressources vitales. Ils vivent sous un contrôle social étouffant.

Ceux qui ont survécu au gaz toxique, ils subissent soit une mort certaine ou une transformation terrible. Leur corps grandit de façon spectaculaire, ils mesurent environ 9 mètres de haut et leurs yeux sont vert émeraude, signe distinctif des géants. Dotés d'une force surhumaine, les géants vivent loin des humains en plein nature. Ils sont perçus, par les humains restants, comme des êtres dangereux et sauvages. Les humains croient que ces géants ne sont que des monstres.

Ou peut-être pas pour certains des humains ? 

____________________________________________________________

Les histoires seront en plusieurs parties, il y aura des plein de personnages en situation. 

Les paroles des humains seront en écriture -> Je suis....

Les paroles des géants seront en écriture -> Je suis....

Les genres 

Science/Fiction, Romantique, Famille et Amitié

Les histoires peuvent contenir des insultes et un langage grossier.

🍋Les scènes + 18 ans 🍋

Il y aura des passages qui seront présent donc je vous demande de ne pas lire les passages +18 ans ou même si vous êtes gêné par ce genre de lecture.

J'annonce l'alerte au moment de la lecture avec cet émoji 🍋

Je ne suis pas une écrivaine renommée, donc c'est possible qu'il y a des fautes d'orthographe, de grammaire, de conjugaison. Je vous remercie de bien prendre en compte. 

L'outil qui m'a beaucoup aidé est ChatGPT, il m'a beaucoup aidé à écrire et bien sûr que j'ai écris car ce IA n'est pas parfait.

Les personnages et l'univers m'appartiennent.