#might have to jump the gun and read it in English

[apesoformythoughts]

In classical Athens, one of the pupils of Plato's Academy is found dead. His idealistic teacher suspects that this wasn't an accident and asks Heracles, known as the 'Decipherer of Enigmas', to investigate the death and ultimately a dark, irrational and subversive cult. The second plot unfolds in parallel through the footnotes of the translator of the original Greek text. As he proceeds with his work, he becomes increasingly convinced that the Greek author has hidden a second meaning, which can be brought to light by interpreting certain repeated words and images. As the main plot and also the translation of the manuscript advances, there are certain sinister coincidences, and it seems that the text is addressing him personally and in an increasingly menacing manner...

[redivia]

'I think it's time for bed' Ghost x Reader

Summary: Simon fell asleep on the couch after coming home from work.

Authors note: Heyy! So this is my first ever story. I never thought I would write anything let alone post it, but here we are. Also it has to be said that I don't have a beta reader so if you notice any errors or mistakes kindly point them out in the comments. English isn't my first language so I might have missed some errors. Have fun reading! <3 This is also posted on AO3 .

You were sitting on the couch together with Ghost, or how he wants you to call him, Simon. Outside you could hear the wind blowing through the leaves of various bushes and trees surrounding your joint home. Since it’s been getting colder, the wind was accompanied by some light rain. Not the kind of rain that leaves you drenched if you even think about stepping outside, but the kind that makes the nicest pitter patter noises on your roof. If you listened carefully, you could even, make out the water making its way across the roof and cascading down the rain gutters that ran along the side of your home.

Simon came home a few hours ago, seemingly pretty tired and ready to go to bed, but his face lit up and adorned a fatigued smile once he saw you. You welcomed your boyfriend home with a much-awaited hug and a gentle kiss. Together you ate dinner. During your dinner you made sure to make light conversation with him. Talking about how the weather suddenly switched up on you while you were walking home, or how there was a sale on your favourite snack at your local store and you were therefore indirectly forced to stock up again.

Dinner wasn't really anything that took tons of effort, but it was still as comforting as ever. A simple one pot pasta had to make do for tonight, but for Simon, he might as well could have been at a Michelin star restaurant. Having to rely on MRE's as his main source of calories during his time at work, has set his standards for food very low. A warm meal? With his partner? At home? He might as well be in heaven. Simon made sure to show you his gratitude in the form of cleaning up the dishes afterwards.

Which in all honesty, could have just been shoved into the dish washer and called it a day, yet he insisted on doing them by hand. Meanwhile you were sat next to him on the countertop and listened to him complaining about some new recruits that were trying to turn everything into a competition.

Being able to look at his face and watch his emotions flicker across his face while he was telling a story has always been one of your favourite aspects of your relationship. Simon swore a long time ago that he won’t be wearing his mask around the house, and you’ve been grateful that he stuck to his promise. The privilege of getting to see his face wasn’t something Simon granted to just anyone, and you are well aware of the fact. Making it even more special to you.

The story about the recruits ended in them trying to sabotage and deliberately throw other comrades off of the obstacle course. Some poor rookie had to get stiches because he fell off of the wall they were meant to jump over. But Simon witnessed how the recruit behind him gave the guy in front a not-so-gentle push, because the poor guy was moving too slowly for his taste. It goes without saying that Ghost delivered a long and proper talking to and maybe some extra rounds of running for the saboteur.

While his story came to a close, Simon had also finished the dishes. You both agreed that you only had enough energy left for a movie before deciding on heading to bed.

So that's how you found yourself and your boyfriend sat on the couch in your living room, watching whatever action movie that was currently running on the TV. You listened to Simon ramble and rant about how inaccurate basically every single aspect of the movie was. How they held the guns wrong, shooting for 5 minutes straight without reloading once, not to mention the amount of ammunition they would need to carry with them for them to be able to shoot as much as they were.

All you could do was listen to him with a small grin on your face. Only Simon would be able to pick apart some movie that was clearly produced in some warehouse in Hollywood, with a plot that never even saw the inside of a writer’s room. But of course, you supported your boyfriend in his strong opinions and joined him in his rant.

It must have been about an hour into the movie when you noticed Simon had stopped talking to you. You risked a small glance over at him and saw he was properly passed out. The stress of the day at work must have finally caught up to him. Taking the liberty, you turned down the volume of the TV just a couple of notches, making it so that the movie was now just background noise.

When you were designing the living room you deliberately chose a three-seater couch, ensuring that there would always be enough space for you and Simon to stretch out without hogging the space from the other. Leaning into his side of the couch, your boyfriends arms sat limply at his sides, his right hand placed on your thigh just above your knee.

Normally he would be stroking his thumb gently from side to side as a reminder that he was still there. Honestly you should have noticed that he was asleep once his ministrations ceased. You took a moment to admire how is face changed depending on whatever light flickered across the screen in front of the both of you. In your opinion, he looked the nicest in a subtle orangish tone, the warm light bringing out his faint freckles and blond lashes. Although the universe refused to grace you with your all-time favourite feature of his, his eyes. You would have to make do with Simon’s for once peaceful expression.

Peaceful, but not relaxed, you noticed. There was still a light crease between his eyebrows, even while sleeping he still seemed stressed. Thinking of possibilities to diminish his stress, you gently picked up the hand that was previously placed on your thigh, without waking him up. Simon’s large and warm hand lay limply in yours, and you started to gently massage his hand.

Running your fingers across his knuckles and the back of his hand. Making sure to appreciate every single small cut and faded scar along the way. You carefully turned his hand palm side up and started to massage the palm of his hand with both of your thumbs. The rest of your fingers were supporting what was now the underside of his hand. Your thumbs dug into the muscles of his palm running across all of the folds and creases, before moving to his fingers.

Feeling his fingerprints underneath your fingertips made it feel like he was your missing puzzle piece you have been searching for all your life. Two separate people coming together to make a whole. You couldn’t stop the smile that was now plastered on your face.

Glancing back at Simon, his eyebrows seemed to have relaxed a bit, but not enough for your liking. You had to take drastic action. You lifted your dominant hand to his face you stroked your thumb across the space between his eyebrows in hopes of completely erasing his frown. Your mission was a success, he stopped frowning.

However, he was now blearily blinking awake. The universe obviously had chosen to show mercy today and decided to grace you with his dreamy eyes once again. Your hand slid a bit lower, now resting on his cheek, your thumb still lazily stroking the side of his face.

With a small smile you told him: 'I think it’s time for bed'.

[faretheeoscar]

Tire Tracks

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This is the first post for Moon Knight-Cember of this year, hosted by @crystaljelly64 I'll be participating mostly on the writing side, but might throw some art here and there.

Content: Steven Grant being chaotic!

A/N: English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there’s any mistakes, no proof read.

Word Count: 1k

Special thanks to @silvernight-m for the amazing header! ILY mi vida!

"Brakes, wheel turning, duck your head, avoid bullets, repeat."

The mantra was all Steven could cling to as he gripped the wheel with sweaty palms. His knuckles ached, fingers stiff as he yanked it to the left. The tires screeched like banshees as the car slid sideways around a corner.

"Brakes, wheel turning, duck your—bloody hell!" he yelped, barely ducking in time to avoid a crackling spray of gunfire.

The bullets sparked off the side of the car, punching holes in the battered frame. Steven peeked over the dash, his heart hammering so hard he swore it was trying to jump out of his chest.

He didn’t even know how to drive. Didn’t have a license. Didn’t particularly fancy cars at all, yet here he was, careening through city streets like he was a stuntman in some action flick.

What kind of lunatic keeps getting into car chases? Oh right. Me. Apparently.

Sleepwalking was one thing. Waking up in a different room—or outside, disoriented and groggy—was something he’d grudgingly gotten used to. But waking up behind the wheel of a speeding car, dodging bullets? That was a new one. A terrible, terrible new one.

"Brakes, wheel turning, duck your head, avoid—"

Another sharp turn sent the car spinning wildly, and Steven’s stomach flipped as the tires skidded across the pavement, leaving hot black streaks. He clenched his teeth and braced himself for a crash, but somehow, impossibly, the car straightened out.

When did he learn to do this? Did he learn to do this? His muscles moved on their own, as if someone else was yanking the strings. He tugged the wheel into another sharp turn, narrowly missing a fruit stand. A cacophony of shouts and clattering wood followed behind him, but he didn’t dare look back.

“Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks!” Steven hissed under his breath.

He risked a glance at the rearview mirror. Black SUVs were tailing him, headlights blazing like predators’ eyes. He could see the vague silhouettes of figures inside—men with guns. Lots of guns.

"What do they want from me?"

Another volley of bullets pinged against the trunk, and Steven flinched. His shoulders ached from tensing so hard. The seatbelt dug into his chest like a vise.

The streets blurred together in a haze of neon signs, lampposts, and the glowing windows of late-night shops. Steven’s vision swam as he darted down an alley too narrow for the SUVs to follow.

“Oh, that’s clever, innit?” he muttered, a spark of relief flickering in his chest. “Good job, mate.” He praised himself.

The relief lasted all of three seconds. A motorbike roared behind him, the engine’s snarl like a wild animal ready to pounce.

"Of course there’s a motorbike," Steven groaned.

He floored the gas pedal, weaving through another turn, then another. The car fishtailed wildly but somehow—somehow—righted itself. Steven’s hands shook as he fought to keep control. His breaths came in short, panicked bursts.

"This isn’t happening," he muttered. "This is not happening."

But the blazing headlights in the rearview mirror told him otherwise.

Suddenly, the motorbike drew alongside the car. A man in a helmet leaned over, gun in hand.

Steven panicked. He twisted the wheel hard to the left, slamming the car into the bike. The impact sent the biker sprawling into the street with a loud crunch. Steven winced.

"Sorry, mate!" he shouted, even though he knew the guy couldn’t hear him.

For a moment, silence reigned. The SUVs had disappeared. The gunfire ceased. The tires stopped squealing. Steven let out a shaky laugh, loosening his grip on the wheel.

Then he saw the barricade.

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no—”

A wall of flashing blue and red lights loomed ahead, police cars forming a jagged barricade across the street. Behind them, uniformed figures waved arms and raised weapons, their shouting muffled by the pounding in Steven’s ears.

His foot slammed on the brake, his hands yanking the wheel in desperation.

The car skidded wildly, tires shrieking as it spun out of control. Time slowed. Headlights swept across the chaos, illuminating the horrified faces of the officers as they dove for cover.

The vehicle tipped onto two wheels, balancing precariously as Steven clung to the wheel with a strangled scream.

The world tilted.

Steven screamed, a high, panicked sound that echoed in his ears. His stomach plummeted as the car seemed to hang in the air, suspended in a moment of weightless terror.

He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact.

Then he woke up.

Steven bolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat. His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding like a drum.

“Just a dream,” he muttered. “Just a dream, Steven. You’re fine. It’s all in your head.”

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, which was damp and matted to his forehead. The familiar sight of his flat was a comfort: the cluttered desk, the stacks of books, the glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the ceiling.

“Bloody stupid dream,” he chuckled, flopping back onto the pillows. He closed his eyes, hoping his heart would stop racing.

But as he closed his eyes and started drifting back to sleep, something again suddenly felt off.

The sheets were rougher than usual, and the mattress seemed... harder. Steven frowned, patting the bed beneath him. His hand met something cold and metallic.

His eyes flew open.

It wasn’t his bed. It was the seat of a car a different car.

Steven, looked around him, heart leaping into his throat. He was back in the streets, the engine idling, headlights illuminating a dark, empty street. Tire tracks streaked the pavement in looping patterns all around him.

A distant siren wailed.

“Oh, come on!” Steven groaned, slumping forward to rest his forehead against the steering wheel.

The sound of squealing brakes echoed in the distance.

"Brakes, wheel turning, duck your head, avoid bullets, repeat," he muttered under his breath.

Somewhere in the depths of his mind, a voice that wasn’t his own chuckled.

dividers credits to @sister-lucifer

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

@eyelessfaces @howellatme @ierofrnkk @silvernight-m @ingoldthewizard

[fibula-rasa]

Watch More Movies Notebook: September ‘24

(and a few things from August because I didn’t have the time to update last month!)

This month's blog journal features two contenders for best new-to-me films of the year (from Argentina and Brazil respectively), a handful of Depression-era shorts that range from absurdist comedy to Jungian fable to psychological actuality, plus one for the Sad Clown Hall of Fame (I've decided that's a real thing). Also included: a round up of recent posts and a preview of what's coming up this month.

Favorite New-to-me Films of the Month

(listed in order pictured above, L to R)

As always, if any other films catch your eye, but you need specific content/trigger warnings, feel free to ask and I’ll try to oblige!

READ on BELOW the JUMP!

I, the Worst of All / Yo, la peor de todas (1990)

[letterboxd | imdb | kanopy (US)]

María Luisa Bemberg’s film adaptation of Octavio Paz’s study of the life and work of Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz. Sor Juana was a 17th century polymath from (what is now) Mexico and the film recounts her struggles to continue her work and her relationship with the vicereine of New Spain.

This is easily one of my favorite new-to-me movies of the year so far. Biopics often feel formally stodgy to me, but Bemberg’s film is highly visual and plays with time, space, and symbolism, revealing emotional truths in ways that avoid going artificially melodramatic. The relationship between Sor Juana and the vicereine unfolds beautifully and both actresses, Assumpta Serna and Dominique Sanda, are fantastic. I would recommend checking this one out even if you haven’t read any of Sor Juana’s work—in fact, watching this movie will likely motivate you to get reading! 

——— ——— ———

La cartomancienne (1932)

[letterboxd | imdb]

An experimental short about a lovelorn young woman seeking advice from a fortune teller. Jerome Hill’s first directorial outing is a Jungian fable peppered with references to supernatural folk beliefs. It’s evocatively constructed and has a great rhythm to it (paired with Hill’s original score). It’s a real gem!

——— ——— ———

Little Geezer (1932)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Theodore Huff took a mess of New Jersey ragamuffins, dressed them up as grown ups, had them act out half-remembered scenes from pre-code crime movies, and gave us the gift of Little Geezer. I found it genuinely funny, but, even if you don’t vibe with Huff’s sense of humour, you might get a kick out of how clearly the kids enjoyed playing gangsters or the shocking novelty of the kids smoking, drinking, carrying tommy guns, etc. Greta Garbage’s impression of Garbo was surprisingly great though??? Might not recommend this one as freely as the two above as Huff so densely packed Geezer with references you may need to have seen all of the movies referenced to pick up what Huff is putting down.

——— ——— ———

The City (1939)

[letterboxd | imdb]

A short, five-part documentary about American city planning produced for the New York World’s Fair of 1939 might be a hard sell for some, but with its truly outstanding creative team, The City is more compelling viewing than you might assume! The City was conceived by housing advocate Catherine Bauer, written by documentarian Pare Lorentz (The Plow that Broke the Plains) and Lewis Mumford, directed by Ralph Steiner (H2O, Mechanical Principles, Surf and Seaweed) and future MoMA director Willard Van Dyke (Hands), assisted by Henwar Rodakiewicz (Portrait of a Young Man in Three Movements), and scored by Aaron Copland. I might have some personal bias here as I grew up in NJ and have lived in New York and Pittsburgh, but as a modern viewer, I found The City to be an interesting window into the past.

——— ——— ———

White Paradise / Bílý ráj (1924)

[letterboxd | imdb | Watch at Národní filmový archiv]

Looks like Christmas X Criminals also has a tradition outside of the English-speaking world! Anny Ondra plays Nina, a whimsical young orphan under the guardianship of a nasty tavern keeper. On Christmas Eve, Ivan, a man framed for a crime against Nina’s parents, escapes prison to spend one last holiday with his ailing mother. Together, Ivan and Nina with the aid of a travelling puppeteer uncover the true bandit, exonerating Ivan and freeing Nina.

Bílý ráj is a charming film shot on location in the Šumava forest in Bohemia. Don’t be put off by the overly literal English translation of the title, the connotations are off by modern standards! This will be a solid recommendation for the coming winter months and I’m thinking about putting together a little list of some of the best Christmas X Criminals movies out there. If you have any underappreciated/underseen instances of the trope please suggest them to me! Bonus: it has a wonderful poster!

——— ——— ———

Seeing the World, Part One: A Visit to New York, N.Y. (1937)

[letterboxd | imdb]

This cheeky short by Rudy Burckhardt is a mock travelogue about visiting New York City. Referencing both Traveltalks shorts and the city symphony films, Burckhardt playfully jumbles genres and the film’s acerbity doesn’t overstay its welcome with a ~10 minute runtime. Also, Seeing the World features Joseph Cotten’s first screen role!

——— ——— ———

The Golden Clown / Klovnen (1926)

[letterboxd | imdb]

The great Gösta Ekman turns in one of the best silent film performances I’ve ever seen in this. Ekman plays Joe Higgins, a talented young clown in a travelling circus. Joe is in love with Daisy, the stunt rider and daughter of the circus’ owners. A twist of fate results in Joe becoming a top performer, headlining his own theatrical production in Paris. Unfortunately, Joe becomes a workaholic and Daisy gets romanced on the side by a caddish fashion designer. Both of their lives fall apart after they decide to divorce. A.W. Sandberg does a phenomenal job of heightening personal tragedy to an epic scale. I was astounded at how smoothly Ekman performed twenty years worth of aging in two hours. As much as I enjoyed this film (and cried over the finale), it did leave me wondering if they make movies about happy clowns? CW/TW for suicide.

——— ——— ———

April Fool (1924)

[letterboxd | imdb]

An occasional habit of mine is to watch silent comedy shorts during my lunch break. One afternoon this month, I watched three Charley Chase/Jimmy Jump shorts. They were all winners, but April Fool was my favorite. On the first of April,  Jimmy Jump gets blindsided by pranks when he arrives at work. Jimmy swears he won’t get pranked again and makes a bet with his coworker (Noah Young). Chaos ensues. The other shorts I watched, Publicity Pays (1924) and A Ten-Minute Egg (1924), were also good, though not as tightly constructed. Publicity Pays features an especially sweet and well-behaved monkey BTW.

——— ——— ———

Footnote to Fact (1933)

[letterboxd | imdb]

A harrowing short by Lewis Jacobs documenting The Great Depression in New York City. Originally intended to be part of a series that wasn’t completed, Footnote to Fact survived on its own (thanks to Anthology Film Archives) as a stream-of-consciousness rhythmic portrait of the quotidian horror of the Depression. Honestly, I can’t believe I hadn’t seen this earlier, but I’m glad to have finally remedied that.  Worth checking out, if you’re in a place to handle it. TW/CW for suicide and depictions of real dead animals (in a butcher window).

——— ——— ———

The Hole in the Wall (1929)

[letterboxd | imdb]

After a major train accident, The Fox (Edward G. Robinson) and his crew are forced to rework their phony psychic scheme. When Jean (Claudette Colbert) knocks on their door, fresh off a prison sentence for a crime she didn’t commit, she takes on the role of their faux medium. Jean has her own revenge plot in mind: kidnapping the granddaughter of the rich woman who framed her. 

I came across this movie when reading about Robert Florey’s feature films and I’m glad I did—as a big fan of both Robinson and Colbert. Robinson doesn’t have all that much to do in the movie, but he’s very charming in it. Colbert gets the most to do with the conflicted Jean—a woman who chooses a life of crime only after a life of crime was chosen for her. But, the real reason this overlooked pre-code made this list is that the climax of the film was such a shock to me! I won’t give it away in case you decide to check it out yourself, but I never anticipated that!

——— ——— ———

Quilombo (1984)

[letterboxd | imdb | kanopy (US)]

I’ve had really great luck working through my watchlist lately. Yo, la peor de todas is certainly on my best new-to-me list for the whole year and so is Quilombo! Quilombo is a fantasticized telling of the true story of Palmares, a free community of escaped slaves in colonial-era Brazil. The film primarily focuses on the events surrounding the fight to remain free of Portuguese authorities while Ganga Zumba and later Zumbi led the settlement. As I’m not Brazilian, this history was largely new to me and it’s been enriching to learn more about it. To me, this film seems like a great entry point. It’s stylish in a meaningful way, has a fantastic soundtrack (which I’ve already listened to twice since watching the film), and the production design, editing, and performances are all super. Also, Quilombo is a film worth studying if you want to see how a filmmaker can artistically condense a large span of time to fit feature length without awkwardly hopping along a timeline of events like a slideshow brought to life.

——— ——— ———

Monthly Round-up

In case you missed it, I spent the better part of the last few months constructing and heavily researching “Cosplay the Classics: Nazimova in Salomé.” There were so many compelling avenues to go down that I split the cosplay into two and a half parts!

Part One: “The Importance of Being Peter” covers Nazimova’s creative decisions in adapting Oscar Wilde’s play for the silent screen—illustrating both her filmmaking techniques and her keen awareness of her core fanbase: young/independent women.

Part Two: “Artists United?” details the struggles Nazimova had in getting Salomé released and finding its audience. This part describes how the American film industry was growing and changing in the early 1920s and how Nazimova’s independent productions fit into (or didn’t fit into) that landscape. I also aimed to complicate the oversimplified narrative of Salomé as a flop by collecting and analysing data surrounding its release in comparison to her Metro films.

Part Two Point Five (a.k.a. Cosplay the Classics: Post-script) will be up soon. It’s a slightly shorter piece covering Salomé’s place in cinematic Orientalism. Stay tuned!

——— ——— ———

Since the last notebook installment, I made themed gif/still sets for:

The Golden Clown (1926)

Salvation Hunters (1925)

(which I talked about in the last installment of WMM Notebook)

Danse Macabre (1922)

Yo, la peor de todas (1990)

A Day in Santa Fe (1931)

(which I talked about in the last installment of WMM Notebook)

I also made some gifs of my Salomé cosplay, because I was so pleased with how the wig turned out I needed to show it in motion!

——— ——— ———

In addition to the follow-up to “CtC: Salomé,” I’m working on a quick how-to rundown of the cosplay, in case you need some Halloween inspiration! 

I’ve also got a slate of spooky-season appropriate gifs/stills to post here on tumblr for October. 

Until next time, Happy Halloween and Happy viewing!

——— ——— ———

☕Appreciate my work? Buy me a coffee! ☕

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Day 5: Gunshot Wound(s)

@the-three-shits-whump

Read on AO3 at the link above or find it below the cut:

It had been a normal day, Hank, Al and Trudy walking home from high school. Or rather, going to Hank’s house, since his mother was the most hospitable out of their parents. Al spent a lot of time there, more than at his own house. Trudy spent only half her time there since her dad was a good guy, just old fashioned. Ever since her parents divorced and her mother ran off with another man, she spent most of her time with her dad, who liked things a certain way.

The three talked about anything and everything as they walked down the street. The two boys had raggedy backpacks slung over their shoulders, ones that would get them by for the rest of the school year before truly needing new ones. Trudy, on the other hand, had a very nice cross-body knapsack her father had gotten her. “Only the best for my little girl,” he had told her. Truthfully, Trudy was spoiled, but she didn’t like to show it like the other girls did at school. In fact, she liked hanging out with Al and Hank more. The kids with no money were the most fun.

As they walked down the street, Hank sighed. “That math test was hard. I mean, did you guys read the third question? I couldn’t even understand it.”

“It was a geometric proof,” Trudy replied. “That’s like… literally the hardest thing in geometry.”

“I like those,” Al replied with a shrug. “They’re like a puzzle to me.”

Hank hummed. “Maybe you should do my tests, Al, you’re always better than me.”

“Me too, and I study hard for them,” Trudy added.

Al shrugged. “I dunno, it’s just… easy, I guess.”

Hank laughed, shaking his head. “I’ve gotta find my thing. It’s definitely not English or math.”

“You’re pretty good at science, aren’t you?” Trudy asked.

“Earth science, that’s it. That’s cause it’s all rocks. I think most people are pretty good at that.” Hank shrugged.

“Still,” Trudy replied, but before she could say something else, shots rang out. Three of them. Hank and Al jumped, looking around. Seeing a man with a gun on the corner, who started running away. They frowned, as the gun had been pointed in their direction. It wasn’t until Trudy fell to the ground, though, that they realized what had happened.

Trudy was on the ground, gasping and writing in pain. Blood soaked into her school outfit, coming from the three holes in her torso. One in the shoulder, one in the chest and one in the abdomen.

Hank and Al fell to their knees beside their closest friend, frowning. “Shit, Trudy,” Hank said, hands shaking as he took off his jacket, pressing it to her abdominal wound.

“Fuck,” Al mumbled, mimicking Hank’s action and using his own jacket to press into the hole in her chest.

Hank looked around, seeing people start to gather. “Someone needs to call 911!! We need an ambulance!”

Al looked down at a gasping Trudy. “Hank, I don’t think she can breathe.”

Hank frowned. “It must’ve hit her in the lung or something,” he said. “Maybe the… diaphragm?”

“It’s too high for that. Lung might be right,” Al replied. “What are we gonna do?”

“We can’t do anything. We just need to hold pressure and… and wait for the ambo.” Hank shook his head, looking down at Trudy. “Hey, Trudy, you’ll be alright. Come one, you’re stronger than… than a few damned bullets.”

Sirens could be heard in the distance. Hank pressed harder on her abdomen, making her groan in pain, but she still was wheezing, obviously having trouble getting a breath. Al did the same as Hank, pressing harder. Blood stained their jackets and hands, as well as some of their clothes.Hank swallowed hard. “Come on, Dee, stay awake for me.” He reached one hand up to cup her face as her eyes fluttered. It wasn’t good. “Come on, Dee! Come on!” He cried desperately. Everyone was standing around them, nobody helping. It made Hank angry. When the paramedics arrived, they pushed Hank out of the way. He got up and strangled backwards, frowning and watching them work on Trudy. They put a tube down her throat and attacked a bag to it to help her breathe, putting gauze on the bullet wounds.

A few cop cars showed up, working on crowd control first, then getting Hank and Al over to a quieter spot as Trudy was loaded into the ambo, being swept away to the hospital. Hank could barely hear the cops’ voices until they said his name. “Henry Voight? Is that you?”

Hank glanced up at the cop. “Y-Yeah?”

The cop looked at his partner. “This is Richard’s kid. Remember him?”

“Oh, yeah,” the other cop replied. He shook Hank’s hand. “I’m so sorry about your father, kiddo.”

Hank blinked a few times, but nodded as he shook his hand. “Thanks?” he mumbled, then shook his head. “Trudy Platt… she’s our friend.”

“Platt, alright, we’ll get in touch with her parents.”

“Robert Platt,” Al chimed in.

“Alright,” the cops walked off, a detective arriving on scene to talk to them now.

“Hey there, Henry and Alvin, right?” He asked, standing in front of them.

“Yes sir,” Hank replied, taking a breath and leaning against the brink wall. “Can someone take up to see Trudy?”

“We actually need to call your parents to come get you,” the detective replied. “But I need to talk to you about the man who shot you.”

“I didn’t get a good look,” Al replied with a shrug. “It was so fast.”

Hank shook his head. “Me either. He was at the corner though, when he shot her. No idea why… We were just walking home from school.”

“These damn gangs think they can just kill whoever walks on their territory,” the detective replied. “The two of you are lucky you didn’t catch bullets either.”

“I guess,” Al replied with a frown

—

Soon enough, Hank’s mom arrived. She was let through the scene, checking Hank over for injuries, then Al, then hugging them both. “Oh, my gosh… are you boys alright?”

“Trudy took three shots,” Hank said, the reality of the situation finally hitting him, tears coming to his eyes as he hugged his mother tightly. “Mom… is she dead…?”

“I don’t know, honey, but we’ll go to the hospital right now.”

Al frowned as his mother and father rolled up, his father getting out of the car and yelling at him as soon as he got close, then he pulled Al away and into the car, driving away as he continued to rant angrily at his son.

Hank sighed, hands shaking from the events. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Trudy beneath his hands, choking on the bullet. He sat beside his mom, staring out the window as they drove to the hospital, wondering if Trudy even made it to the building alive.

[jotadoul]

🥰 anka and i are sharing a prion disease right now so we're rewatching the JJBA OVA. and okay. maybe it was the weed but i think it might be... i think it's my favourite thing ever made. that's ever existed. for all time. it's my favourite thing that exists. my favourite thing that Is. it really does makes me feel exactly like the ending of HEAT... LOL and i'm serious about this. it's like a stun gun or like being sandblasted where i'm shot outside of my body helpless to what's happening. horrible feeling and i love it very much.

and i feel soooooooo fucking VINDICATED because i dug deep into japanese forums + blogs and found people celebrating it ;__; there are discussions from this year (2024) even! people agree that it's gorgeous and that if you're going to watch (or even read) any version, it should be this one. that it rewards you on rewatches... which is true. every time i see it, i find something new, some extra bit of care that goes toward the structure of the mood. so many subtle movements in the acting, so much elegance to the balance of exposition in the dialogue. mainly in the japanese version, but it's not like it's lost in the english dub, just different. the voice actors did an amazing job with tone— notably there's this shaky tightness in Jotaro's voice during moments of fear/stress that enhances his expressions, actions.

i found people talking about the tension, acting, a wonderful review on the use of shifting, dynamic lighting throughout the OVA, the way the sound design— engineered by Skywalker Sound with score by a very young (~19) Marco D'Ambrosio— fills in SO MUCH for the animation with tasteful specificity in implying things like unique weight for footsteps, for Avdol's rings, or how the sound of Geb is like a strange layered scream. and fortunately found many people talking about being in awe of n'doul's humanity and how he has serious rizz lol and that he, in any version, is the only serious sobering moment of the glory gods... WAAAAH then i come on twitter or whatever and people are like "looks like shit, worst fight in the thing," and it's like jesus h. christ get a LIFE. i'm sorry you were tricked and lied to, but bad taste can be fixed if you just open your heart a little.

i do not feel moved whatsoever to watch the rest of the TV series (i made it up to the hunting episode of DIU.) something can be faithful and also a major downgrade, by intending to be as faithful as possible, misses the elements that make it what it is. besides, modern anime looks like real shit right now and i won't force myself through it solely because it exists. but i love this adaptation. i would rather see a beautiful interpretation that prioritises an effective, effecting mood, that tries to compromise with purpose and synthesise the source into what an animated version— the short film that this is— can do for it. what the form can heighten. there are little movements, upticks in speed or anxious stillness. the breathless timing and gravity of jotaro touching down and star platinum ripping right out of him like a major leaguer performing another major league hit. n'doul reacting to iggy, jumping slightly while kneeling. jotaro wiping off his fingers with a hanky and then rubbing them together. the entire scene with polnareff on the crates. oh GOD and the opening with the inverted sun... the cane... the cane scene cannot Not destroy you, be honest.

why did they include the red granite obelisk, notably from aswan, one of which was at one time commissioned by hadrian for his boyfriend antinous who drowned in the nile? that didn't have to be there, but isn't it beautiful? (and they put the eye hieroglyph right where we can see it... uuugh.) never mind the actual canonical content, with jotaro and n'doul mutually captivated, delighted, by each other's skill until the end. it's so painful knowing the inevitable outcome but it still somehow sneaks up on you with the way it's paced and i love to be rocked by it every time. the only guy ever to be spared on purpose— respecting him that much! and the respect is mutual! jesus, his monologue! he's the only one to be mourned. THE only one to be buried. by hand. alone. the fight begins under high noon sun and the burial completes at dusk. he's 17. fuck me.

i love when a story is never allowed to fully wrap up into the typical "and it was all worth it!" sort of vibe, which, in a way, is what happens, but it never rises to the point where... where that positivity matches the intensity of what was shown to you previously, or that those losses are meant to be forgotten in the wake of righteousness. and as far as i can recall, this is something araki has perfected over time. i'm thinking about the brutal bit in DIU with josuke carrying? dragging? okuyasu, and the particulars of kira's fate. but i'm REALLY thinking of VA, with giorno &co. in the office, and the epilogue. and then obviously SO. and then SBR. and JJL. this approach, the bittersweet heartache or outright mourning, has become a precise weapon and i can see the through-line from SDC. now that i've watched HEAT i can see why araki said that he cries every time he watches it. it's wrenching. and a big part of that is that you don't necessarily expect it because of genre or style flourishes, and that's really special. to be caught unawares, because you were already caught, you've been caught this whole time and now you have to take it.

i now know that yeah. yes. this is The definition of a special interest. because i have to, must, rotate this object in my head compulsively and purposefully so i can see every angle and crevice. i intuitively understand that i shouldn't be so bowled over and bitchy about it after so many years, sooo many years, but i can't help it! you like what you like and this is the benchmark. it pains me that it is so finite. that i've confusingly hung my heart on something that no one on earth could give one (1) solitary fuck about, and therefor there is an abrupt end to material. so i AM left rotating shapes in my head sussing out indentations in the form. kinda crazy. but fighting against it is maybe more punishing in a way.

this fight was chosen as the opening to the OVA because it's one where everyone is present. this fight was also going to be the entirety of the OVA, but araki liked it so much he requested more episodes 🥰💕

[kippykasey]

Grace - Chapter 11: Crash and Burn

Pairing: Howard Stark x F!Reader , Bucky x Reader [Eventually]

Word Count: 1383

Series Summary: A young nurse is recruited by Dr. Abraham Erskine to join the SSR to assist on Project Rebirth. Following her work with the SSR she is drafted into the US Army Nurse Corps in the war against the Nazis…and HYDRA.

Author’s Note: Hey hey hey! Welcome back. 2024 is the year to start writing again... I hope haha. Anyway I have finished CATFA. I have a few ideas to do before starting CATWS but we shall see what my brain comes up with when the time comes!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the gifs they are either found on google or under the gif tag provided by tumblr. Any language other than English was translated using Google Translator, and translations will be posted in bolden italics after. I am not a nurse or in the medical field although I may do some research medical treatment written may not be correct.

Grace Masterlist | Snowdrop Masterlist | Masterlist

The plan wasn't exactly what she had expected. Letting Steve walk willingly into their grasp definitely wasn't something she thought highly of. It was an irrational plan but she was putting more trust in him than she probably should but they needed to finish this. The Commandos had talked her out of trying to physically go with Rogers in the first place. She had shown up ready to get on the back of his motorcycle and ride headfirst in the line of fire but it took all of the Commandos, Dugan specifically, to talk her out of it. Instead the nurse made sure she would be ready to join the guys to save that punk from Brooklyn from Hydra's grasp.

She readied her handlebar for the zipline, she wouldn't be missing her mark this time. No, as soon as she got the nod that her anchor was set she had jumped and was making her way down the line Jaques followed not far behind on one side. Grace kicked her legs out as she neared the window reading to break through. Her boots hit and the momentum shattered the glass, her hands released going straight for the shot gun wrapped around her torso, aiming and firing at the first person that she seen that wasn't on her side. Her eyes hardened and despite the ring in her ears from the multiple gunshots around her she kept locked on. She moved to the shield which had been taken when Rogers was captured.

"'Ey, kid! You might need this," The nurse called before she threw the shield to the super soldier who turned to face her, sparks from a stray bullet spraying behind him.

He shouted a thanks before following after Schmidt. The nurse followed the fellow commandos through the halls, humming the hymnal she got her moniker from. After all the hymn brought her a munch needed distraction from the bodies that vanish when hit by the energy from the Hydra guns.

“Ya know hearing ya humming right now is quite unnerving right now Gracie.” Jaques comments as he covers for Dugan who switches his gun out for one of the Hydra ones.

“Yeah well seeing people evaporate before my eyes is unnerving too but we all are witnessing it.” Gracie sighed.

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

The battle continued and for Gracie a gun fight turned into a physical fight that she wasn’t prepared for with one of the Hydra soldiers in all black tactical suits. Gracie swung the butt of the gun at the guy in the same way that Bucky taught her. The Hydra soldier blocked the hit and a deep chuckle startled her out of her focus.

“Ah, du kennst den Soldaten. Schade, was passiert ist. Aber er wird sich erholen.” Ah you know the soldier. A shame what happened. But he will recover.

Her head snapped to attention. Recover? Her chest tightened under the tags that belonged to someone else. Distance. She needed distance. Pulling a leg up between them she kicked him away and into the path of Phillips driving Schmidt’s car.

After hitting the agent Phillips looks to the nurse, “Get in.”

The nurse jumps into the car and Phillips picks up Peggy and follows Rogers who is sprinting after a plane. The car screeched to a halt and Peggy got into the back of the car as the nurse climbed out.

“What are you waiting for punk? Get in!” Grace snaps.

Before Steve was even sitting Phillips sped off to catch up with the plane. The nurse watched the car race after the plane. Her eyes slowly lowered to the pavement. The agent’s words replaying in her head. Did she mess up the translation? Was he talking about a different soldier? Bucky fell. Someone couldn’t live a fall like that. But maybe…

“Lieutenant, look alive!” Phillips’ command snapped her out of her thoughts drawing her attention up to the returning car and a stunned looking Peggy.

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

Phillips, Peggy, and the nurse joined Morita in the communication tower of the hanger. They were waiting for some kind of sign from Rogers, or worse, news of what Schmidt gets away with. There are still a few fights going on below them but there was already a clear winner there. The nurse pulled out her med kit and moved out to the hall to patch up injured and keep herself busy but that didn’t keep her from hearing the transmission come in. Rogers had defeated Schmidt. Steve needed to force the plane down before New York, without enough time to contact Howard for help.

“Grace, you might want to get in here. Some thing tells me Agent Carter is going to need you.” Jim hints, his melancholy tone showing that he knew what was about to happen just as much as everyone else that can here the radio.

“Peggy, this is my choice.”

The nurse enters the communication room. Her eyes land the dark waves of her best friend’s hair. She crosses the room her boot steps seemed louder than they should be, or was that her heartbeat in her ears? Grace reached a supportive hand out, resting it on Peggy’s shoulder. Peg, turned her head just slightly.

“Peggy?” Steve sounded dejected.

Peggy turned her attention back to the open line. “I’m here.”

“I’m going to need a rain check on that dance.” Grace closed her eyes as the slightest tug of a smile pulled at the corner of her lips as she listened to Rogers.

Peggy reached a hand up to rest over her friend’s her body tensing for a moment as she resisted the tears that wanted to fall, a few escaping her dark eyes. “Alright. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club.”

“You got it.”

Peggy wiped at the fallen tear. “Eight o’clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late. Understood?” Peggy’s hand closed over Grace’s.

“You know, I still don’t know how to dance.”

The fond smile on Peggy’s face was short lived, her voice nearly cracking, “I’ll show you how. Just be there.”

“We’ll have the band play something slow. I’d hate to step on your—” Steve’s voice cut out and all that could be heard in the tower was the radio static.

Peg pulled away from her friend, “Steve?” She struggled with her emotions her voice cracking as she called once again for Steve but she received no reply. Hopeless sobs joined the static and the tower was empty besides the two women. Peggy leaned over the control panel infront of her, shoulders shaking as she silently cried over the man she wouldn’t get the chance of being with. Grace rubbed her back softly, her mouth opened and she did the one thing she could think of to soothe her friend and she began to sing.

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound.”

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

Returning to New York was something bittersweet. The world was celebrating the end of the war. Yet the Commandos toasted to their fallen captain. Howard lead the search for the plane crash, his fiance alone in their apartment. Before her a diary with her scrawled writing. A soldier wouldn’t have survived the fall from the train. Maybe.. maybe a super soldier would. Could James had survived the fall?

Howard returned, nothing but the tesseract was found. He entered the apartment, the stack of unclaimed mail in his hand. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the woman staring at a large board of calculations and a single photo of Sergeant James Barnes. Her fingers clasped and tapping on the thin metal army issued ID tag that belonged to the same pictures soldier on the board.

The second thing that Howard noticed was the lack of ring on her hand or hanging from the chain around her neck. He would find it in a few minutes on the counter in the kitchen back in the box it came in a scribbles apology not under the box.

[simplynotcapable]

in honor of the end of my english class, here is a compilation of quotes from my english professor

a love poem about her first cousin! tantalizing! scandalous! kentuckian! my apologies carter i know you are from kentucky and i am sure you did not have relations with any of your cousins

please do not tell me about your UTI i am not held by HIPPA and i will tell my wife

i actually have a 100% pass rate because the students that fail are executed by firing squad. HA. i kid, i kid

and if you miss class five times, i take your head. HA. i kid again. i should stop joking about murder, i can’t lose my job in this economy

(after jumping repeatedly behind a glass screen and them back out) viruses are like birds, they can’t understand glass

(while in a karate position) get vaccinated padawan

if you do it this way i’ll pass you but i’ll think you’re boring and that’s worse than failing and having me think you’re an idiot

my friend is in a wheelchair and his plan was just to run him over with said wheelchair and so i said “gary that’s a damn good idea” but i was inebriated and we were in fact asked to leave

do you guys see the line on the wall? no? ignore me, i am obviously hallucinating because of the Illness

northerns mock us for shutting down the state for a little snow but i frankly think they need to be deported

some people think teachers should have guns. imagine me with a gun. (finger guns at the window) BANG BANG. see? that’s a stupid idea

i think the best way to prevent crime is to get rid of doors

i put this on the reading list because it’s basically about seventeenth century fuckboys and i thought you guys would resonate

this one is one the reading list because i like polar bears

i use the word dave instead of terrorist because statistically they’re probably white men

charles i has diehard fans even today! my friend travis got into a fistfight in his behalf

men named colombus are always “discovering” things that people already knew about. the guy who discovered the clit was named colombus

i like to look men who subscribe to the alpha male mindset in the eye and go “so you think there’s more than one kind of man” because yknow realistically they probably are also the type to think there are only two genders because spectrums confuse them and then when they get angry i just do the (does a little dance and starts talking in a king candy voice) you wouldn’t hit a guy with glasses would you

there’s a chemical spill in the—what kind of chemical? the toxic kind. obviously. keep up for the love of god

obviously eve was framed (points threateningly at someone who just raised their hand) don’t get catholic about this jason

but MOM!!! ALL the kids are crucifying the messiah!

(while telling us that we’re a week behind so it’s fine no one did the assignment) except one person. not to name names. (long pause as he turns to look at my classmate) do you not have hobbies buddy? go on a date or something

(while squealing and clapping) cookies!! (freezes mid movement, clears throat) apologies. i lost my cool

i’m supposed to talk to you guys about how to prevent sexual assault so uh…don’t assault people! it’s that easy. mind blowing i know

i think women should have rights but that was a radical take at the time

she is, how do you say, serving cunt?

there is no heterosexual explanation for being jealous of a tree

do you guys mind if i step outside i miss my wife and if i don’t call her right now i might weep and that would be awkward

it’s like if andrew tate could read and write

joseph svetnam was a bitch and that is the moral of today’s class

my most american trait is my disdain of the british

[motionjames]

Wake up girlies, it's time to return to the frontline!

Guess who has insomniaaaa! 🤗💕💕

A month of cramps, nausea, increasingly worse insomnia (but a strangely good mood) has lead me down the path once again. I caught wind of some strange "gfl2" thing and after being struck with nostalgia, I grabbed bluestacks and fell into hell once more. I'd deleted gfl off my phone simply because it took too much space but now that it's on my computer, it's become DANGEROUS...! Github and clip studio up front with logistics running forever in the background. Yes, the ideal working experience.

Anyhow, everyone say hello to Contender.

I've been making more progress in these past two days than I had in the entire two months I spent with my new account because I realized how to (partially) Not Be An Idiot. Turns out there's a thing called "anchored construction" and you can get some pretty nice units (eventually) if you realize it exists! Wow! I got the girly and now I'm working on grabbing Carcano because she is pretty but also insane skillz.

Also, there's a discounted gatcha running right now and that means I can finally get over my mental block and spend tokens... I was surprised at how easy it's been to acquire them, so I've just been shilling em out. My dorm was totally bare until now. I'm sorry, everynyan...

As for actual gameplay, I finally made it past 2-6. It might seem like a simple thing to most but I was yet again, being an idiot. I was under the impression that I HAD to have dupes of the girls to dummy link them when I actually was swimming in dummy cores 🤦🏽‍♂️ What's wrong with me... Well, I jumped over that hurdle, blasted through the emergency missions, and am finishing chapter 3. The first parts arent so bad when you learn how to read! 😃😃😃

First eschalon is good, it's the standard one that everyone seems to use to clear the early game. This second one is a WIP mess that I'm readying for night missions. You see, I'm really hurting for half-decent SMGs and rifles, the second one there is kinda lacking in defense/fire power... I wanna create a decent second eschalon and night mission groupie but I gotta figure out what units to invest in. I hope for Carcano soon. She is cute. Also, feel free to berate me for my bad decisions and suggest decent compositions. I am so lacking in SMGs that dont immediately explode (mpk you are so cute but so stupid). I'm currently looking at friend's compositions to figure out what formations work...

In completely different news and only further proving how dense I am, I only recently learned that Girl of the Bakehouse was related to GFL. I've had my eye on Reverse Collapse for a while now since it's a remake (of a remake?! I didnt play the previous one) of a visual novel I played in 2012 or so. The original vn was made in 2009 in like Kirikiri script and I was a young lad very fixated on all things with girls and guns (Gunslinger Girl was and still is a favorite of mine, I would've read it one summer at my Uncle's out on the front porch). There's an english patch now, but back then it was only in Chinese so I had to use text extracting and image translators, looking up the characters as I went. I got a cup of coco and opened up a patched version last night for old times sake. It's clearly a doujin work with those rough edges but it's so damn confident in its presentation you can't not get swept up in the presentation. The sound work make it very immersive. I highly reccomend reading it if you want a solid, emotional war story. Looking at the sepia soaked sketches, down-to-earth narrative, dense wordbuilding and general war otaku sentimentality... It really predicted a lot of my tastes, huh... 😅

Behold, teh wolfguy...

Back to work. Logistics still running. I can and WILL continue being stupid. The nostalgia is really strong, I'm tempted to draw fanart despite the sour memories of the past. Again, please berate me and tell me of your team compositions. I think my ID is 772030 but I promise you, I won't be any good on teh battlefield 😇 this machine runs off hopes and dreams, not realities!

[gerudospiriit]

[Alright. I finished the game a good bit ago, and I’ve been sitting on this thought for a really long time (i.e. almost when I started the game when it came out). So. If you want to read my brain go brrrrrrr about Nabooru and the Zelda series in general, keep going. Otherwise, scroll on. Nothing to see here.]

[I don't know if it's been apparent, but, outside of really enjoying Tears of the Kingdom on the surface and being super glad they improved by leaps and bounds from Breath of the Wild...it also made me super uncomfortable. I've made mentions of my hang ups with how inconsistent the story is when it insists on seemingly making historical references to past games while also erasing said games a few times. But that's...not really where the discomfort comes in. Like sure. I want consistency. I want the threads of history they sprinkle in to connect at least in some viable and valuable way. I'm an English major for fuck's sake. But, the deep down crux of it is more specific.

I've feared this since the first cutscene, and more prominently when I learned more about the new sages that fought with Rauru, and it only felt more and more true as I played through the game: Tears of the Kingdom has either replaced/deleted Nabooru or changed her. Ocarina of Time and basically every other game and that history became obsolete because...they can't happen. If the Imprisoning War is set at Hyrule's founding, and Ganondorf was sealed away all the way until Zelda and Link release him in TotK, we can't have OoT. We can't have TP. We can't have WW. And, if we don't have OoT, we don't have Nabooru.

Unless, with all the similarities to scenes and whatnot from OoT, this whole Imprisoning War is meant to replace the events of Ocarina of Time (and therefore every other game, essentially), which brings me to the second option: the Sage of Lightning from the Imprisoning Era IS Nabooru. Which is very possible because, judging by the cutscenes, AT LEAST this sage, if not all of the Gerudo, turned on Ganondorf for some reason (which may be him attacking their settlements for some reason??? That's an issue for another post re: The problems I have with Ganondorf in TotK, re:re: the mountain of reasons I hate Demise and his silly little curse). Just like Nabooru did in OoT.

Even going by the second less drastic read of what's going on there, it's still...uncomfortable. It means I have to pretty drastically change Nabooru's story to line up with this new telling of OoT (if that's what this is and I really see no way around it outside of what I'll mention later). And I'll be frank: it hurts. It hurts as a long time Zelda fan who ADORED the story it was trying to tell and who has adored this character for so long only to be left with these feelings about it all. It's frustrating to see the devs do so well and so poorly with the last like...three games when it comes to consistency of even the remotest kind when it comes to lore and story. Instead, like plenty of other games, movies, etc., Nintendo seems more concerned with the shiniest new gimmick within a game and cashing in on nostalgia than actually respecting Zelda's story. AGAIN. Tears of the Kingdom was a lot of fun and a top notch game. A HUGE improvement on Breath of the Wild. And if they had just...given the attention to the details of the story and lore to make it more cohesive and not like a big "we're literally retconning everything" which arguable kinda started with SS lbr), this game would have been perfect to me.

But to get off my bitterness a little and discuss moving forward with Nabooru and some just random thoughts about like...what to do? If anything? I might be jumping the gun, and I may not even make anything set in any kind of stone YET in case DLC gives us more to work with BUT. Here are my thoughts.

As much as it irks me because the devs are wishy washy and won't come out and just admit that, since SS, they've basically wanted to obliterate everything established and start anew with new lore, legends, histories of Hyrule, etc. and therefore keep making some serious links back to the old games they've imploded with their new lore without any real connection or explanation, the first option is to treat SS, BotW, and TotK as basically their own separate entity/AU. With so much changing from the lore and motivations to the religion and removal of the Triforce and other pieces of the story, essentially, it is just next to impossible to REALLY fit these together with OoT and pretty much the rest of the series in a cohesive, workable way.

Which means I would probably have to play two versions of Nabooru: one who follows the events from OoT onward, and another that follows the events of the Imprisoning War as the Sage of Lightning (and I still don't even know if it's HER aklsjdflkjaf) and everything else that entails.

The other option is to figure out a way to just...piece this monstrosity together like some poor, Frankensteinian beast and/or just ignore every ounce of logic and just ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, go with the flow, and wing the fuck out of interactions to bs something together for her. Whether that's playing the timeline card because fuck how many more did Zelda create anyway with her time traveling or something else? I'm not sure yet.

And I may be jumping the gun. Maybe we'll get so very lucky and DLC will explain everything for us and we can understand wtf is going on here. But for now, I guess stay tuned for more existential crises ft. Nabooru? Ahahha...]

[elk96]

~THINGS GO SOUTH IN THE SOUTHEAST~ Part One

Characters: Robert Fischer, Maurice Fischer, Uncle Peter (Inception), OCs

Warnings: angst, abduction, mentions of terrorism? Racial stereotypes, English is not my first language, and everything mentioned/ narrated is pure fiction, not an indication or a statement towards a particular race, religion and so on.

This could be read as an independent story, as it has nothing to do with the movie's plot/ scenario.

Prologue

Robert exhaled sharply, fighting to control his bouncing knee. He was at the verge of a panic attack, hadn't felt that way ever since his mother's death.

"Do you want some water sir"?, asked one of his guards.

"No. No thank you".

Focus! Focus Robert for fuck's sake!, his mind shouted at him. He had to keep his cool if he wanted to carry out his mission. Well, he didn't- hell he didn't, but what other choice did he have? Lead his company-sorry, his father's company to financial ruin, or die. Die in Abu Dhabi most likely, and get eaten by the flies.

He stuck his face to the plane's window, feeling the moisture radiate to his whole body. He didn't have a gun pointed at his head yet, but still, his life flashed before his eyes. Not his future. The past.

EXPLOSION DESTROYS MAJOR GAS FACTORY

MAURICE FISCHER FACES RUIN

HUGE CORPORATION SPOILED AFTER ACCIDENT

UAE AND USA COMPANIES NOW AT FINANCIAL WAR

He knew it. He had warned his dad at the council not to make deals with these people. Maurice had simply ignored him.

A sudden sound threw him off his seat. A continuous ringing. It took him a while to realize it was the phone in front of him.

"Should I pick it up"?, that same bodyguard asked him. He was forgetting his name. Could be Victor. Focus you idiot!

"Yes, hello"? Robert said breathlessly, holding the device close to his ear. Not too close. He was scared of who it might be. “Hello”!?

“Hello Robert”, his father answered, taking his time. ;I wanted to inform you that Carl will be waiting for you once you arrive.

“"I thought-I thought, he lowered his voice, "that mr Smith would send his men”

“"No, it’s too risky. Besides, it’s gonna be just a meeting Robert! Don’t be a coward and don’t mess things up ‘cause this is a very important situation, you hear me? I have to go now.

“Alright dad”, he breathed, but Maurice had already left.

“Tie your belt Rob”, his pilot said through the microphone. ;In half an hour you’ll be having three women jumping around you like eager puppies.

“They’re civilized people”!, Robert shouted. Just… a bit dangerous.

Robert Fischer was the son of one of the richest men on Earth, heir to a company successful like no other. His whole life revolved around custom tailored suits, important contracts and people who made him feel inadequate and alone. In other words, a business meeting meant -as his dear, beloved father had pointed out- nothing more than a long, boring night. Until that fatal explosion happened. The accident that threatened to put his father in a prison cell for terrorism and association with criminal activities against his country.

Chapter One.

Robert smoothed the fabric against his skin, taking in the warm temperature of Abu Dhabi. Stoicism was a key trait of his personality, and with stoicism he intended to carry out his mission.Or, rather, talk to the guests that filled that huge hotel salon.

The cold air of the air conditioning sent shivers down his spine, making want to sneeze. He put a timid smile on his face instead, and shook the hand of the man standing by the door.

“Mr Fischer. It’s an honour to meet you. Your father’s ventures are quite legendary”, said the man, who was, most likely, organizing this event. It must had taken him by surprise, meeting Robert in a place he hadn’t invited him in. Personally invited him, that evening when he had given the list of names to his secretary.

“Thank you sir”, Robert said, nodding politely. “And may I say that you are a worthy heir of your ancestor’s work. After all, what else could a man desire”?

The man smiled at him in agreement. Fuck, he needed to remember his name.

“Is this your first time in the Emirates”?

“Oh yes, business has never brought me here before, and I don’t travel much otherwise. Of course, though, I couldn’t decline your invitation. I actually arrived only an hour ago, so I haven’t discovered your country’s beauties yet”.

“I’ll gladly show you around Mr Fischer, provided that you stay long enough for a trip”.

“I’ll have to leave soon for Sidney I’m afraid. It’s quite a busy time of the year…”.

Robert wandered around the room, giving unsatisfied glimpses at the expensive furniture and luxurious lights hanging from the ceiling. He gave handshakes and charming smiles to the ladies, trying to escape their invitations for a drink. The noise and low music made the room feel suffocating, or, so he had said on his way to the men's restroom.

He locked himself in one of the toilets and answered his phone anxiously.

"Hello mr. Fischer", came the flat voice he'd come to know just a week earlier. "The target's name is Imran Youssef. Don't lose sight of him. Learn everything you can".

"Alright", he said, his voice trembling. "But how will I recognise him,"?

"They'll introduce him to you the moment he arrives- remember, he is the cousin of the company's owner. But you better behave a bit more confidently, if you wanna keep your head on your shoulders".

Robert gulped hearing his last words. "And you will keep your end of the deal"?, he asked, but John Smith had already hung up the phone. Again.

Robert ran his hand through his hair and opened the door. Even before he had seen him, he sensed the presence of a man, and flinched. Raising his head he was met with a blond, quite muscular male in a modest suit that made him look out of place and concept. It could be his sunglasses, but Robert thought he was looking at him rather suspiciously.

Robert washed his hands as thoroughly as every respected millionaire would, put a stray strand of hair back in place and left with a heavy sight. Thankfully the stranger didn't follow him. But why the hell would he in the first place? Fuck Dad. Fuck.

As he arrived at the main room again, the voices seemed to be a bit raised, people gathering towards the entrance. Robert guessed it would be his man, so he sat by the bar, ordered a martini of which the name sounded nice, and waited patiently.

After a while he saw the Arab coming to his way, accompanied by three men and two ladies, young enough for him to think they were his daughters.

He approached the man with the calm and confident demeanor he'd inhabited over years of practice.

"Mr Youssef. I'm Robert Fischer", he said steadily, facing the cold stare of the Arab.

"Your cousin's company and my father's company lead a corporation together".

"Yes, I remember. Until the accident happened and you let us down".

"You cannot lead an empire with sentimentality, Mr Youssef, as I'm certain you're aware. Nevertheless, we're terribly sorry for the damage done in your factory".

"I did not expect to find you here", Youssef continued. Weariness and dislike were carved on his face, but the woman on his left was flashing smiles.

"Ah well, how does the saying go… All roads lead to Rome", Robert said pleasantly. "I'm not on a business trip currently- I've been sent to my death, actually- I was hoping for a good two- day's rest and some sightseeing. The gentleman who organized this event had the kindness to invite me. I was actually hoping", he said after a reluctant pause, "that we could look past our business differences and have some fun".

"Are you sure you are ready for some fun, Mr Fischer"?, asked one of the ladies.

After a searching glimpse at Yousef's face, Robert smiled widely.

"I'm guessing we will find out soon miss".

Two hours later, shortly after Youssef had left, he politely greeted everyone and left for his hotel room. The warm air enveloped him in a suffocating embrace. He felt exhausted, while an unraveling feeling of worry was eating him up. He had talked to Youssef. He had made him laugh, drink, almost pat him on the shoulder. But he had not acquainted the information Smith wanted- he'd have to drug him in order to get that information!

Right after stepping out of the building, he was faced with two men, dressed in black.

"Mr Fischer", the one of them said, and in his voice Robert vaguely recognised a familiar tone. A black Sedan was parked right next to them. Robert nodded and followed them into the car eagerly, craving a long sleep, which he wouldn't have.

The slow humming of the machine was soothing, helping him drift off to a light sleep.

"Sir, we're here", startled him the voice of his guards. The door opened, and Robert thanked them for their service, only to be reminded that they would escort him to his room.

The hotel Smith had ordered him to go to couldn't be more different than the luxurious building he'd visited before. Dusty old rugs and ripped tapestries covered the walls, along with an unpleasant, vague scent of neglect.

"Stay here", Robert said, leaving his bodyguards standing by the door, his suitcase on hand.

A glimpse of satisfaction appeared in his eyes on sight of the dinner room. A buffet was waiting there for him with food of very questionable quality, but he wasn't feeling particularly picky at the moment. He walked up to the receptionist and leaned over the bench.

"Hello miss.I would like to rent a room".

The woman looked at him as if Octavian Augustus himself had come to talk to her.

Although she has no idea who that is, he thought to himself. "A room? To sleep in? Do you speak English"?

The woman kept her eyes on him, shaking her head slightly. Robert turned to his men for some help, but they looked just as miserable as he did. Robert sighted heavily and nodded at the board with the keys, then to the staircase to his left.

The receptionist came back to life, finally understanding what it was that he wanted. After she let some words in Arabic flow out of her mouth, she signed him to come with her. Robert followed her without second thoughts, eager to lay on a bed no matter how shitty the mattress was.

The weird duo snaked around dark corridors and through rusty doors with labels on them, of which Robert understood exactly nothing. After a while though, they reached a dimly lit room, where a man had fallen asleep on a chair, legs stretched on his desk. The receptionist woke him up placing a soft hand on his shoulder, and the man flinched, opening his eyes which laid directly to Robert.

“Hello sir”, he said with a hesitant, raspy voice.

“Hello”, Robert forced a smile. “I would like to rent a room for one night”.

The mancocked a brow in disbelief, and with disbelief and restraint he carried on the conversation with that obviously very rich, very out of place American.

Ten minutes later, Robert returned to the reception room, accompanied by the woman, who eagerly gave him the keys to his room. Robert’s eyes flickered to the exit of the building and back, scanning the space. No one was there. A threatening silence seemed to have fallen upon the room. Robert went on to ask the woman if she had seen anyone come or go, but then he remembered that she didn’t speak a word of English.

Dropping the keys on the παγκο mindlessly, he ran outside.

Darkness and dust covered everything in the city’s suburbs, the area being empty as far as the eye could see.

Where the hell have they gone?, the boy inside him screamed. Maybe they had orders to leave as soon as he was settled-after all, Smith himself had told him to go to that God-forsaken place, he should be safe. But they had taken his suitcase with them. He had personal stuff in that suitcase, which they knew he’d need for the night…

Fear was eating him alive as he called Carl with sweaty hands. All he learned was that the number he had called was deactivated, or did not exist.

Robert leaned against the wall, choking on the heated air and called John Smith.

“Fischer? What’s the matter”?

“My guards are gone. I went into a room for a moment and now I can’t fucking find them”, he answered, sounding surprisingly composed.

“Alright Fischer , listen carefully. Stay in your room, lock the door, cover up the window, and wait. I’ll send someone ASAP. The code is 58091”.

The phone call ended with a soft beep and a deathwish. Robert climbed up the staircase to his room, closed the curtains, breath erratic, he brought his feet to his chest and sat there, waiting for the monster to crawl out of the bed. Needless to say, his appetite had disappeared but nevertheless, he found calm in the darkness, the stillness of the night. Anxious though he was, he didn’t feel afraid anymore, or sad, or anything really. Because, he had come to realize a long time ago, he had nothing to lose. Uncle Peter, of course, would be sad, would grieve him appropriately. And right after the funeral and a deep sight, he would start searching for his replacement.

A quiet knock on the door pulled Robert away from his thoughts. He jumped on surprise, and moved slightly towards the door. The knock echoed again.

"58091", said a male voice and Robert was quick to open up. Three men waited outside of his room, their figures almost inseparable from the dark walls.

"Mr. Fischer, Smith sent us. We have men coming out our way, we have to hurry".

Robert nodded and silently followed the two men in front of him downstairs and out of the hotel. The air had at least turned a little colder. The men rushed into the car, forcing him into the back seat. A hint of uncertainty hit Robert, instinctively noticing something he couldn't pin-point. He sighed and laid back on the seat.

Patient as he was, he didn't bother asking any questions, remaining silent, arms crossed tightly around his chest. Up until his goddamn phone rang again, and a gun appeared. Pointing at his head.

Robert felt his whole body light and empty.

"Answer it", the man next to him ordered, and Robert shook his head reassuringly.

"Fischer", said Smith right away, and Robert put him on speaker.

"Yes, I'm here".

"Alright. My men are coming for you. Should be there in fifteen. Stay where you are and wait. Remember the code"?

Oh, of course he did. Along with twenty others, apparently.

"58091".

Smith was out, and Robert pinned the men with a look somewhat annoyed.

"Happy"?, he asked handing him over the phone.

"Shut up", the man growled, but at least he hid the gun away.

"May I ask what it is that you want"? Robert then said calmly. "Or…who are you"?

I suppose I'll find out very soon, he sighed. And gods help me cause no one else will.

[jessilynallendilla]

dear god we're steadily heading into Fahrenheit 451

“Picture it. Nineteenth-century man with his horses, dogs, carts, slow motion. Then, in the twentieth century, speed up your camera. Books cut shorter. Condensations. Digests, Tabloids. Everything boils down to the gag, the snap ending.” “Snap ending.” Mildred nodded. “Classics cut to fit fifteen-minute radio shows, then cut again to fill a two-minute book column, winding up at last as a ten- or twelve-line dictionary resume. I exaggerate, of course. The dictionaries were for reference. But many were those whose sole knowledge of Hamlet (you know the title certainly, Montag; it is probably only a faint rumor of a title to you, Mrs. Montag), whose sole knowledge, as I say, of Hamlet was a one-page digest in a book that claimed: now at last you can read all the classics; keep up with your neighbors. Do you see? Out of the nursery into the college and back to the nursery; there’s your intellectual pattern for the past five centuries or more.” Mildred arose and began to move around the room, picking things up and putting them down. Beatty ignored her and continued: “Speed up the film, Montag, quick. Click, Pic, Look, Eye, Now, Flick, Here, There, Swift, Pace, Up, Down, In, Out, Why, How, Who, What, Where, Eh? Uh! Bang! Smack! Wallop, Bing, Bong, Boom! Digest-digests, digest-digest-digests. Politics? One column, two sentences, a headline! Then, in mid-air, all vanishes! Whirl man’s mind around about so fast under the pumping hands of publishers, exploiters, broadcasters that the centrifuge flings off all unnecessary, time-wasting thought!” Mildred smoothed the bedclothes. Montag felt his heart jump and jump again as she patted his pillow. Right now she was pulling at his shoulder to try to get him to move so she could take the pillow out and fix it nicely and put it back. And perhaps cry out and stare or simply reach down her hand and say, “What’s this?” and hold up the hidden book with touching innocence. “School is shortened, discipline relaxed, philosophies, histories, languages dropped, English and spelling gradually gradually neglected, finally almost completely ignored. Life is immediate, the job counts, pleasure lies all about after work. Why learn anything save pressing buttons, pulling switches, fitting nuts and bolts?”

remember

“You don't have to burn books, do you, if the world starts to fill up with nonreaders, nonlearners, non-knowers?” 

“The problem in our country isn't with books being banned, but with people no longer reading. You don't have to burn books to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them.” 

“Coloured people don't like Little Black Sambo. Burn it. White people don't feel good about Uncle Tom's Cabin. Burn it. Someone's written a book on tobacco and cancer of the lungs? The cigarette people are weeping? Burn the book.”  (remember a few years ago when classic books were being "sensitivity read" for editing to a "modern audience")

keep in mind

“If you don't want a man unhappy politically, don't give him two sides to a question to worry him; give him one. Better yet, give him none. Let him forget there is such a thing as war. If the government is inefficient, top-heavy, and tax-mad, better it be all those than that people worry over it. Peace, Montag. Give the people contests they win by remembering the words to more popular songs or the names of state capitals or how much corn Iowa grew last year. Cram them full of noncombustible data, chock them so damned full of 'facts' they feel stuffed, but absolutely 'brilliant' with information. Then they'll feel they're thinking, they'll get a sense of motion without moving. And they'll be happy, because facts of that sort don't change.” 

“A book is a loaded gun in the house next door...Who knows who might be the target of the well-read man?” 

what is HAPPENING

[knowyourbmovieactors]

OCTOBER HORROR MOVIES 2022 (Q) QUARANTINE 2: TERMINAL

This movie unflinchingly explores a horror that I have not experienced in a long time: being on a plane. Watching all these poor dopes squeeze into an airplane with a group of people almost perfectly calculated to get on each other's nerves while one or two of them cough and sneeze in the recycled air and don't even try to cover their faces. Just horrifying. Oh, yeah, and then I guess there's the face-eating zombie people. They're pretty bad, too.

The original Quarantine was a remake of the Spanish film REC, wherein a bunch of people are locked up inside their apartment building after a new "super rabies" begins infecting people inside, and the government shoots anyone who tries to step outside. REC is one of the true masterpieces of the found footage horror genre. It's like you took 28 Days Later, stuffed it in a bottle and shook it up. It's great. You should watch it. Quarantine is the lesser English-language alternative that was made because most Americans can't be bothered to read subtitles. It's pretty good. You should consider watching it. Quarantine 2 is the even lesser version of that lesser version. It's fine. You can watch it if you want, I guess.

The filmmakers dropped the found footage aspect of the original, shooting instead with a sort of cinéma vérité style (otherwise known as our old friend, the shaky handheld camera). We barely have time to get to know any characters before the shit hits the fan, so almost everyone is hastily sketched in between all the biting and bleeding and screaming. We meet such bold characters as "moody 13-year-old boy", "foreign couple", "aggressive asshole with gun", "old lady with cat", "guy whose entire motivation is getting his laptop back", and "other flight attendant lady who is basically indistinguishable from our main character except she's not our main character." I really can't remember any of the characters' names. That's not to say that the movie isn't competently done. It keeps its pace moving swiftly; it's appropriately claustrophobic; and it doesn't lazily reach for jump scares all the time. (Also, Bear McCreary's music is not too shabby) It's just that anything you might like in this sequel was already in the films that preceded it, and the only difference is a change of setting, which really adds nothing.

REC went on to have its own series of sequels in Spanish, while Quarantine got this sequel that is in no way related to the Spanish sequels, probably because the guys who made REC were pissed that Quarantine was mostly a shot-for-shot remake of their film with a lot of the subtlety removed. Instead, this sequel takes place at literally the same time as the first movie. They even watch news footage of the apartment building being locked down, right before the outbreak begins on their plane. Since the super rabies can be transmitted in minutes between any mammals and not just humans, it's pretty clear that humanity is fucked in this universe, as are pretty much all land-dwelling mammals. Quarantine 2 is just here to assure you that the future will be ruled by birds.

[fromdevcom]

Diehard WordPress fans might not like this title or the idea behind it. But I assure them that by the time they finish reading this article, they shall be thoroughly convinced that the time has arrived to migrate to Joomla from WordPress. For many CMS users the whole idea of converting their website from WordPress to Joomla might sound preposterous and understandably so, considering the fact the WordPress is the most popular and widely used CMS tool. It commands 60% CMS market share with Joomla lagging far behind with its meagre 9%. WordPress is the automatic choice for professional as well as home based CMS users. Being well documented and having a long presence have ensured that online tutorials for WordPress are available in plenty. The same however cannot be said about Joomla. But wait before you jump the gun and draw your line. The reason why I say this is because the all new Joomla 3 is a CMS tool to reckon with. It is more responsive for site users as well as administrators. Released in 2012, Joomla 3 uses a Bootstrap framework and a LESS processor, making it ideal for front-end designers as well as web developers for creating consistent interfaces. What’s even better with Joomla 3 is that the team Joomla has tried to make a conscious effort of improving the overall user experience right from the word go. Its refinement starts with the instant installation process and continues up to its very core. A user is shown a variety of sample sites to choose from, before beginning. Even for those users who aren’t fans of Joomla or are radically dedicated to WordPress, maybe it’s time to give Joomla 3 a fresh look. Putting together a Joomla 3 based website on its feet hardly takes time. But in case you are still not convinced to switch over to Joomla 3, here are my 5 compelling reasons to do so. Joomla 3 Is Best For Multilingual Websites A WordPress site requires customization and add-ons for going multilingual. Joomla 3 on the other hand does not require complicated add-ons for creating multilingual sites, as it takes care of this problem during the installation process itself. All you have to do is to install other languages in addition to English during the installation process. Joomla 3 provides an option of choosing from 60 international languages. Supposedly you have a site in English and German, and you write and post an article, you will get the choice to label it either as “English”, “German” or “All”. In case you label the article as “All”, then it shall be displayed as it is and irrespective of whether a user is viewing the site in English or German. You can create a German translated version of the same article and label it as “German” and link it with your English version article. You also have the flexibility with Joomla 3 by not choosing the translation option, in case you need separate content for both language version sites. Joomla 3 based multilingual sites are easy to create, manage and understand. The Core Code Of Joomla 3 Has A RAD Framework Built On Top The (RAD) Rapid Action Development framework is a welcome addition to the core code of Joomla 3. This framework offers unique advantages as a user has to interface with the framework rather than with Joomla directly. The RAD framework has been built on top of the Joomla platform and acts as its extension, rather than replacing it. Writing Joomla extensions will be the same as it was earlier. While writing Joomla extensions, a web developer will have to write just about half the code due to the RAD framework. Extensions which are created with the framework require just half the files and code in comparison to the previous Joomla version, while ensuring backwards and forwards code compatibility. The RAD framework is built on the (DRY) Don’t Repeat Yourself principal. Bootstrap and jQuery are used in the framework which provides web services and JSON support. Mobile Responsive Sites The Joomla 3.3 is the first totally responsive CMS tool available today.

It uses the Twitter Bootstrap framework for creating mobile friendly and responsive sites. Bootstrap is a powerful front-end framework for developing websites in a faster and an easier way. A Joomla template prototype can be created without the need of a customized CSS or UI and thus a developer can focus his attention on features and user experience. The Version Control Feature The version control feature of Joomla 3 is a very important security feature which saves a copy of all your content every time you make changes to your site. By clicking on the version button on the toolbar you can browse and see the previous saved versions of the article. Every time you save an article a new pop-up opens allowing you to make changes to the article. Joomla also uses a clear cut colour scheme for editing. Removed text is marked and red while green denotes the text which has been added. Joomla not only stores the articles but also the settings of your content. In case changes are made to an article, Joomla stores the previous settings and a user can roll-back as and when he chooses to. Joomla also has a feature for creating a setting for limiting the number of versions it can store. This feature is more beneficial for sites with a large amount of database and where frequent changes are required. Install From Web Features The most innovative and unique addition to Joomla 3 is its install from web features. Joomla extensions can be downloaded from the administrator area of your Joomla site. The system works much like the Google play but the only difference being that it works only for extensions. Around 8,000 extensions are available for download and a user can review them, see their screenshots and ratings and then download them. You can find and download photo galleries, shopping carts and calendars from there. The (JED) Joomla Extension Directory, which was used in the previous versions of Joomla have formed the basis for creating the install from web feature. My Final Verdict Although WordPress is a popular and easy to use CMS tool, it has a number of shortfalls as well. It requires loads of plug-ins to enhance the functionality of sites created through it. Joomla on the other hand comes with built in plug-ins, requiring little botheration for users. Time might not be far when the market share trends of both CMS tools start reversing and more web developers start switching their loyalties towards Joomla 3. Many web development companies provide web design services in Australia. But the service quality Kristy Bernales provides is a class apart. She works at Webdesign Xperts, Melbourne as a web developer. She is a keen listener and an orator. Read her enlightening posts on Facebook and Twitter.

[namimikan]

i just. okay. i don’t like to be spoiled. in some ways i haven’t been, bc i lack context and don’t know what it entails, but some pop culture slipped through over the years, so i know a couple of details but they also mean nothing to me and i’d prefer it to stay that way.

i enjoy talking about it and speculating and jumping the gun bc all of that is fun. being wrong, being right, recontextualizing, remembering events, seeing how that mirrors story arcs

not everyone who stumbles upon a random post is going to know that i’m at a certain point and am oblivious at future events of the story

i truly cannot be bothered to write ‘no spoilers plz’ every single time i make a new op post post-sanji wedding arc.

i think if someone i don’t know them makes a reply to my post, i’m just going to have to say ‘hi i’m at x arc. don’t spoil future events/no spoilers plz’ first thing before making an actual response

like it’s fine that this happened, i’m not mad, i’m trying to figure out the best way to go about doing this bc i like tracking my thoughts and recording how i feel, right, wrong, confused but also being like spoil me and i will be furious

it was so so good to completely be oblivious to bartolomeo and think him kinda meh, before he reveals he’s luffy’s biggest fan and instantly adore him. how i forgot i don’t know but weekly reading makes it harder to remember tbh instead of binging, but it has been 10 years maybe and he wasn’t the most memorable character in the arc at the time, but as a result, it was super satisfying???

so. i’d like to keep it that way. clarification is fine. translation issues are fine, and i like being informed on stuff that has japanese cultural significance but not so much for english. sometimes i do ask for details i have forgotten about.

but i’m just getting close to uncharted waters, and that both excites me bc i don’t know what’s in store and terrifies me bc there’s a chance i could be spoiled and that could ruin the impact

so i think it’s good a timing as any, it’s not really supposed to be vaguing, but. i need to get this off my chest and be prepared for something that might happen but hopefully will not.

[ao3feed-ateez]

Might Have Saved Us Both

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/pNcKwd4 by fremmerforever2 Song Mingi is a normal 21-year-old guy. He likes singing, dancing, gaming, and music. But hidden under the soft exterior is just a boy who wants everything to stop. He makes up his mind one night and walks the seven miles to the closest bridge overlooking the city and starts to prepare himself for the jump. But he's interrupted as he's leaning over the rail. What looks like a tour bus barrels past him blasting a mesmerizing song. Mingi immediately wants to know the name of it, so he googles it and begins to listen. He gets sucked into videos upon videos and song after song from the same band. And before he knows it, the sun has risen, and people are bustling about. He doesn't want to jump in front of these people and take the chance of being revived. So, he decides to go back home for the day and come back later. As he's walking, his phone is still playing music. But little does he know that the bus that barreled past earlier was for the band he just discovered. And there on the side of the bus in white bold letters it read, "ATEEZ". Words: 138, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: ATEEZ (Band) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: M/M Characters: Song Mingi (ATEEZ), Jeong Yunho (ATEEZ), Kim Hongjoong, Park Seonghwa, Kang Yeosang, Choi Jongho (ATEEZ), Jung Wooyoung (ATEEZ), Choi San (ATEEZ) Relationships: Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi (ATEEZ) Additional Tags: yungi, Song Mingi Needs a Hug (ATEEZ), Guns, Idols, Dark ATEEZ Ensemble, Protective ATEEZ Ensemble, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/pNcKwd4