#moveover

[anitatad]

Move over, I need a nap too...

Image by Annette Meyer from Pixabay

[ricottapossum]

so I may or many not be making one of those cardboard wall sharks from tik tok.

I don't use tiktok but my cousin does and I was inspired to make one. The paper mache is drying right now.

Will post updates as they occur.

[merinsedai]

For @dreamlingbingo

Square/Prompt: A1: Sticks and Stones

Title: The Shepherd and the Stones

Rating: G

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Warnings: n/a

Additional Tags: fairy tale, shepherd Hob, faerie Dream, inspired by folklore, standing stones and treasure 

Summary: This is the tale of a lonely shepherd and a cunning sorcerer; of a stone circle and a faerie treasure.

One Midsummer Eve, the giant stones of the high plain will rise from their pits and leave their treasure unguarded, ripe for the taking .

But for a faerie's treasure to exist in the mortal world, it requires a human sacrifice...

Link: Read on ao3 here or below the cut :)

Once upon a time, on the high fells of England, there lived a lonely shepherd. Once, he had had a family and there had been love and laughter in his home, but a great sickness had come to the land and stolen his joy. Now there was just him.

Alone and sad, the shepherd had left his village and journeyed to the North, away from the memories and any who knew him. He settled in a small village, nestled amid the wild hills and the wilder weather.  He moved amongst the villagers like a ghost, quiet and unnoticed, taking his small flock up to pasture every day on a high and windy plain and every evening returning to his sad and silent home.

Upon the plain, one could see for miles in every direction: there was the village to the south, the far off mountains to the west, and in the north- a distant, winding river. And right in the middle of the plain there stood a circle of 7 giant stones. No one knew how they had gotten there: the villagers were afraid to approach as there were tales that the stones had once been giants, turned to rock and moss as a punishment; and that the fairies who dwelt amongst them, and whose duty it was to care for them, would curse or trick any mortal who dared approach. 

But the shepherd was not afraid of the stones, nor the stories of the fair folk. Each day he took his sheep to graze on the high plain and there the weather was often harsh. The stones were the only shelter when the freezing winds blew in from the East bringing the rain and snow in winter; they were the only shade in summer when the sun beat ceaselessly down upon him; and moveover they were familiar, comforting, and constant. The shepherd began to regard them as friends, and whilst he rested his back against their craggy sides to eat his meagre fare, he talked to them and told them tales of adventure and romance.  And though he was lonely still, there was a happiness of sorts to be had there, alone amongst the stones.

Then there came a day, in the fading warmth of autumn, where the shepherd found he was no longer alone. For whilst he was preparing to take his midday meal, settling in against the biggest of the stones, he sensed a presence above him and looked up. 

Before him stood a strange and ethereal creature, shaped much like a man but quite evidently not one, not if the large and delicate wings at his back were any measure. They were beautiful, waving slightly in the wind, and he stared openly. At first they looked black, but as the sunlight caught upon them, they shimmered in shades of purple and green. And the creature they belonged to was himself a sight to behold: his skin gleamed palely-perfect, like moonlight on new fallen snow, his hair was long and black as night, and his eyes… his eyes were piercing and blue as a clear midwinter sky, and glowed as if lit from within. He was barefoot and wore a flowing robe that gleamed with the same iridescence as his wings. 

“Hallo,” said the shepherd, surprised but not frightened. He babbled on a bit when the stranger merely stared at him. “I’m Hob. The shepherd. Bring my sheep up here a lot. Though I’m guessing you already know that. You’re one of the fair folk, right?  Lovely spot you have here. What’s your name?”

“I have been listening to you,” the stranger replied, not answering Hob’s question. “You like to talk. You tell… interesting stories.”

“Well, I’m glad someone’s been appreciating them.” Hob said. “Not sure what Old Mighty here thinks, but he’s a good audience.”

The stranger's eyes flicked to the giant stone, then back to Hob.

“You are bold, to linger here.”

“Am I?” Hob said unconcernedly, paring his apple carefully.  

“Yes. Most mortals fear to tread lands touched by fae magic. And yet, you are here every day and you are not afraid. Instead you treat our stones with reverence and bring us gifts of stories and song. Why is this so?”

Hob shrugged. “Never found anything to be afraid of. Not yet anyway.” he added with a chuckle. “And I love it here. It fills me with peace. Would you like some apple?” 

The stranger was wary at first, recoiling slightly from Hob’s outstretched hand. But Hob merely placed the slice of apple upon his kerchief and put them on a rock to his side, then continued talking. Gradually he drew the faerie man in to him as he spun another wild tale while continuing with his meal. He spoke to the rocks, the sky, the grass, eyes occasionally darting to his companion, who eventually settled on the ground a few feet away, listening intently.

When Hob eventually wound his story down, he found the faerie suddenly closer than he expected. Eye to eye, they stared at each other.

“A fine tale, Hob,” the stranger said softly. “I thank you for sharing.”

“Anytime, stranger.”

The stranger smiled, a small secretive thing. “My name is Dream.” he said softly, and between one blink and the next, he was gone. 

And when Hob gathered the wits to look round, so was the apple. 

From that day on, Hob would often find Dream awaiting him amongst the stones. And while Hob would share his stories and food, Dream would weave him crowns of moorland flowers (whatever the season, he had flowers of white and purple and yellow; of mouse ears, tormentil and willowherb) and teach him faerie songs. When they were together, the time passed more happily and Hob wasn’t lonely anymore.

For he had found he had a friend.

***

Living in the same village as Hob was an old sorcerer who could understand the language of the animals and birds. The sorcerer’s name was Burgess and he was a cold and cruel man, though that was well hidden beneath a veneer of charm and amiability. The people of the village were in awe of the sorcerer, but they did not fear him. He had dwelled amongst them many years, studying the ways of magic, and they came to him for healing and advice when their crops failed. In return they gave him what they could, and he lived a life of some comfort, though as with many men he desired much more: wealth, acclaim and power. 

One day in early summer, the sorcerer was busy with his arcane workings when he happened to overhear the excited chatter of two sparrows who were sitting on his windowsill. Burgess made a habit of leaving tidbits for the animals to eat so he could eavesdrop on all their tales.

“Did you hear?” said one of the little birds to the other. “The stones are stirring! This Midsummer Eve, at midnight, they will rise from their pits and go to the river to drink!”

“I know!” answered the second, fluttering its tiny wings madly. “The whole flock is atwitter about it. The stones have not risen  for many turns around the sun! And did you hear that there is treasure in the pits where the stones stand?”

“Everyone knows that, silly,” tutted the first bird. “It is the faeries’ treasure! The stones guard the treasure and the faeries tend the stones. The magpies were very excited, they would love to steal it. But of course, they will be fast asleep come midnight.”

“They would be very foolish if they did, but that’s magpies all over.” The second bird hopped along the sill, searching for the last of the scattered crumbs. “The faeries’ treasure will turn to dust come morning unless the stones are given a human sacrifice in return. No hope of that happening! Come on, we’ve finished here… I heard the miller’s wife has been baking again…-”

And with that, the two little birds flew off. 

Burgess snapped his book shut and rubbed his hands, a gleeful smile spreading on his face. Faerie treasure, as he had long suspected! And it was his for the taking… but what to do about the human sacrifice…? The sorcerer sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers in thought. Well, there was only one choice, really. Only one person in the village who had no family or friends to ask awkward questions when they disappeared. It would have to be the shepherd.

***

That evening, Burgess went in search of Hob and found him finishing shutting his flock away for the night. 

“Robert,” purred the sorcerer, lacing his voice with just enough magic to make the other man suggestible and not suspicious. “I have the most wonderful proposition for you. Let us talk.”

Spellbound, Hob invited Burgess into his home and, over a cup of braggot ale, the sorcerer told the shepherd all that he had overheard. All, that is, except for one small detail. He made no mention of the human sacrifice.

“It is agreed then?” said Burgess with his wicked smile. “We shall meet on the plain at midnight and when the stones go to drink we will have treasure beyond our wildest imaginings.”

With another flick of his power, he swore Hob to secrecy- “We must tell no one; this is our little secret, Robert.”- and then he left, chuckling to himself at his own brilliance.

***

At first, Hob was excited at the idea of the treasure, imagining all the things he could do with it- all the places he could go. But later the next day, as he sat in the shade of Old Mighty waiting and hoping for a visit from his friend, he began to feel bad about it instead.

It would be very unfair to steal the stones’ treasure whilst they are drinking and unable to protect it. They are guarding it for the fae folk, and Dream is my friend… I could never steal from him, he thought, beginning to feel angry at himself for even considering it. It was just that the sorcerer had been so friendly, so convincing…. He pressed his palm into Old Mighty’s sun-warmed side and sighed. I will not do it. I don’t care if I stay poor my whole life. I will not do it.

A rustling in the brambles announced the arrival of the faerie, and Hob looked up at him, chewing his bottom lip.

“You look very thoughtful today, my friend,” said Dream, eyeing him closely with his head tilted to the side.

“I..-” Hob wanted to tell Dream of Burgess’s plan, but the sorcerer’s magic kept the words locked in his throat. “I was just thinking it was a most marvellous day! And I found some wild strawberries on my walk up here today. I was hoping you would share them with me.”

Dream favoured him with one of his small, secret smiles, folding his legs to sit neatly beside him, both of them resting with their backs against Old Mighty. They shared strawberries and stories, and Dream taught Hob a counting game with dandelion clocks. It was a beautiful day, peaceful and still. As always, Hob delighted in his fae friend’s company. He wished he could tell him of Burgess’s plan but he could not, and so that evening he departed with the words unsaid and an unhappy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

***

A few days later, Hob was awoken from a restless sleep in the deep watches of the night by a touch to his dreaming mind that brought him gasping back to awareness. Dream was there before him, bending over the bed and drawing his hand back from Hob’s forehead.  Hob had never before seen his friend outside the vicinity of the stones, and never at night. Dream was more otherworldly here, his features sharper, his hair wilder. The moonlight painted his pale skin with an ethereal glow and his eyes- so blue in the day- were washed to full black. Hob had never been afraid of Dream but now he felt a thrill of fear to know that fae magic had been at work upon him.

“You are correct in what you think,” Dream said without preamble or explanation.  “It would be wrong to steal from us and from the stones.”

“I...I know,” Hob said, trembling slightly. He did not question how Dream knew of his conversation with the sorcerer: the ways of the fair folk were mysterious and always surprising. He could not read Dream’s expression and he wondered if even his brief consideration of helping Burgess was enough to condemn him in the faerie’s eyes. “I wasn’t-”

“But you are our friend,” Dream interrupted calmly, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “And we give you leave to take some of our treasure.”

“What-”

“But first,” Dream holds up a finger, forestalling Hob yet again. “You must cut a long trail of honeysuckle and lay it beside Old Mighty, and you must only take treasure from Old Mighty’s pit. For he is the stone that I tend, and it is by my invitation that you may enter.”

Hob struggled to sit up in the bed. “ Dream, I am not going to do it. I swear I am not! I admit I thought about it but I- I can’t do it. I’m going to tell Burgess tomorrow; try to persuade him of the wrongness of this deed.”

“I know you would try to refuse the sorcerer, my friend, because I know your heart,” said Dream.  “But Burgess’s magic sits deep within you still, and he will compel you whether you will it or no. To steal from a faerie treasure is the riskiest of ventures, and without the grace I now grant you, your death would be almost assured.”

Hob gaped at him. Dream sat down next to him on the bed, unexpectedly close. He pressed his hand to Hob’s chest and looked upon him with an unreadable expression.

“For the friendship you have offered me, I would give you a reward,” he said.

“I don’t need a reward-!”

“A gift then. One friend to another. Take it, please,” Dream said, pressing closer, his hand moving up from Hob’s chest to cup his cheek. Hob’s breath caught in his throat at the gesture, and the serious look in his friend’s eyes. 

“Yet one word of warning,” Dream continued quietly. “Do not let greed drive you, Hob. Be mindful of what you take. A faerie’s favour is hard won, and easily lost.”

Hob nodded shakily. He had no desire to lose this faerie’s favour. 

“But what about Burgess?” he asked after a moment.

Dream’s smile was back, only  grimmer now. Hob shivered.

“Leave the sorcerer to me.”

***

Late at night on Midsummer Eve, the sorcerer and the shepherd met on the plain to await the moving of the stones. Burgess performed some magic- a simple bending of the light- to make them invisible to any watching eyes, and in silence, they waited. As the church bells in the village began to chime out the midnight hour, clouds scudded over the moon and the earth began to tremble.  Hob watched in awe as the seven massive stones stepped from their pits and began to move across the plain, rocking gently from side to side as though walking on invisible feet. Peering closely, Hob could just make out some smaller, darker shapes flitting about amongst the stones: the faeries were escorting their charges to the distant river. Soon, only he and Burgess remained on the plain and all was silent once again. 

“Quickly,” hissed the sorcerer, pushing Hob onwards. “We haven’t much time.” They ran to the empty pits and Hob stopped dead- they were much, much deeper than he had anticipated.

“How will we get out?” he breathed, turning anxious eyes on Burgess who waved his worries away impatiently.

“Do not concern yourself with that,” he snapped. “Do you believe I came here so unprepared? I will lift you out with my magic, just as I will do with myself. Now go!” A sudden force propelled Hob forward and he stumbled, dropping down into the pit with a startled oath. The hard landing knocked the breath out of him, and he lay there gasping for a moment, listening to the sound of Burgess entering his own pit and the clang of metal as the sorcerer clearly began gathering his booty. 

The clouds cleared from the sky as Hob sat up and looked around. The sudden bright moonlight illuminated a hoard of treasure beyond Hob’s wildest imaginings. Gold and silver in every form: ingots and jewellery and goblets; gem encrusted scabbards and armour and torques; strings of diamonds and pearls; jewels in every cut and hue; and coins of every weight and denomination under the sun. Hob stared in amazement, picking things up and marvelling at their beauty. Then, mindful of Dream’s words, he gathered enough treasure to fill his pockets, whispering his thanks as he did, and settled down to wait for the sorcerer’s aid in escaping.  

Meanwhile, in a nearby pit, Burgess was shovelling treasure into sacks as fast as he could, heedless of what he stole. And all the time he was shovelling, he was smiling to himself and thinking that no one would miss that lonesome shepherd.

Time passed and Hob was growing nervous. He paced the pit, constantly looking up. He tried shouting for Burgess but heard nothing in response. What was the sorcerer up to?! Presently, there came the sound of a distant rumble which began growing louder and louder… the giant stones were returning from the river. 

Hob’s heart was beating triple time in his chest. I must get out of this pit, or I’ll be squashed by Old Mighty! he thought frantically. He began trying to climb out but the sides of the pit were steep and slippery, and he couldn’t gain a foothold anywhere. His fingernails were bleeding from his desperate scrabbling at the walls and over his own panting breaths Hob could hear Burgess screaming with fear, clearly unable to use his magic to escape his own pit.

Sighing, Hob resigned himself to his fate and sat down amid the treasure. It had been a decent life all told. His family had been a bright spot, and Dream… Dream was a bright spot still. Hob wasn’t ready to go, he wasn’t done with living yet. Blinking back frightened and angry tears, he looked up at the sky one last time…

… and leapt to his feet when he saw Dream peering over the edge of the pit.

“Dream!” he shouted, shock and elation both clamouring for dominance within him. “What-”

“Take hold of this,” Dream interrupted brusquely, and lowered the trail of honeysuckle which Hob had cut and laid beside Old Mighty earlier in the day into the pit. “I will pull you up.”

It was a very close thing. As Hob fell gasping onto the grass, Old Mighty stepped into the pit with a heavy thud. All around, there were echoing thuds as the stones returned home, and when the earth stopped trembling… Complete silence. 

“I apologise,” Dream said calmly, pulling Hob to  his feet. “I was delayed… and I have heard it is impolite to keep a friend waiting.”

Hob gaped at him, then laughed with the kind of relieved giddiness that only a near-death experience could bring. “You-! You mad creature!” he exclaimed. “I really thought that was the end for me…! And then you-! Oh, I could kiss you, I really could!”

There was a hand on his cheek, and his laughter stopped abruptly. Hob found himself caught in thrall to those gleaming black eyes.

“If you mean it…” Dream said quietly, “If you do not speak in jest or high spirits-”

“I have never meant anything more in my entire life,” Hob said somewhat hysterically and then he couldn’t say anything more because he quite suddenly had his arms full of Dream and his mouth thoroughly occupied. It was a glorious, beautiful thing. Dream tasted like starlight should and he kissed like Hob was the most desirable thing on the Earth. Hob would be quite pleased to do this forever: kiss his faerie love in the shadow of the great stones…

He pulled back, struck by a sudden thought. “Wait, what of Burgess? He had spells ready to get him and his loot out of the pit, but he never answered my calls and I heard him screaming…?”

“You stopped kissing me to ask me that?” said Dream petulantly, but with a smug smile tugging up his lips. “Worry not, the sorcerer is dealt with. His paltry magic was nothing compared to my own. The moment he stepped into the pit, he doomed himself, for I trapped him there and there he shall remain., until such time as I deign to remove his bones.”

From that day on, the sorcerer was never seen or heard of again. Hob, the shepherd, became a rich and benevolent land owner, beloved of his tenants. And although he never again took sheep to graze upon the high plains, he could often be seen up by the stone circle, resting in the shade of Old Mighty. And though mortal eyes could not see it, he was never, ever alone. He had found his happily ever after.

[katyspersonal]

Djura x Valtr divorce thoughts

Tbh the first thing I thought about when I've learned this bit was that Valtr commissioned this weapon specifically, rather than just used one of them cool Powder Kegs inventions, but it could be even so much more!

'Old hunter' is the term referring to the Hunters of Gehrman's type, the different kind than Church's ones, and we know Djura is one of the Old Hunters as well! It would only make sense that Valtr got in Yharnam around the time when they were pretty active, especially since the pieces of Constable Set (corpses of his dead friends) are picked around Hunter's Nightmare, which is specifically built around Old Hunters era! It is also easy to assume that in that era, Powder Kegs were not active and instead it was Oto Workshop since you get Firing Hammer badge in Hunter's Nightmare, but:

It is hard to tell! The Oto Workshop badge, the Firing Hammer one, is dropped by NPC Bestial Hunter, whereas Oto Workshop did not create the Boom Hammer (funny enough!), and yet Old Hunters all over Hunter's Nightmare are using this weapon! Reasonable to assume that Hunter's Nightmare captivated the timeframe after Oto Workshop already fallen, and was replaced by Powder Kegs. And so, Djura was already a big deal!

I also love the attention to the bit that Boom Hammer entailed an especially strong vitriol towards the beasts. This attitude easily could have been Djura's past prior and during the time of Powder Kegs burning the Old Yharnam, something he came to regret (not unlike Maria). And so, Valtr had an idea for a weapon that would kill in especially twisted and aggressive way - an approach Djura could sympathise with! And moveover, sort of take Valtr under his wing, since he'd have a hard time, really:

Valtr instantly caught extreme prejudice and mockery on himself for the ""awful crime"" of not reacting in the most sane way on having his companions murdered by this beast. Valtr already has an aggressive temper, and clearly companionship means everything for this guy as his dying words are about his confederates, so of course he was more fucked than maybe even another hunter in this same situation would be. He was not even a hunter at that time! The way it is worded, in my opinion, emphasises what the Yharnamites think of him: that eating beasts is "just" what he does, or all those whacky foreigners do for that matter, rather than exceptional moment of his life. I think the nickname of beast eater got glued to him because of that, like eternal reminder that what he experienced, and how he reacted to the traumatic event, now defines him in everyone's eyes, rather than like... he made a habit of eating beasts... Heck, maybe it does define him. Maybe it did change him forever, and this "aggressive manic" character is what replaced the person that died in that day.

It is only fair that Djura would want to give a hand. I like the idea of him being the first one to try to reach out instead of being weirded out or afraid or disgusted: something that even other hunters could have felt nonetheless, as in, 'he is like a beast himself now lmao'.

It is also a no-brainer but I doubt Djura would hate Valtr for eating that beast over "beasts are people tho" sentiment (in other words, what Valtr did was cannibalism I don't see the problem lol). It doesn't feel very 'kind but foolish' person-ish to fear or hate someone for a psychotic reaction in an exceptionally extreme event even after his 'epiphany' on nature of beasts. That would also be at least two layers of hypocrisy on Djura's end then, as not only he himself had regrettable past, but also he doesn't mind "cannibalism" that much if he threatened Paleblood Hunter to leave them as food for his beasts! Three layers of hypocrisy, actually, because even under assumption that Djura did not take part in burning of Old Yharnam himself and just returned to the disaster, he forgave at least two people who did; Djura's Ally and Djura's Apprentice NPCs, who are both wearing Charred Hunter outfits:

Though if Djura was hypocritical in regards to going "actually I now find what you did inexcusable, bye ✌️", that'd be interesting reason for falling out also! It would be a cool goodbye if Valtr addressed it and rage quit, leaving Djura with feeling of shame forever! After all Djura is not only 'kind', but also 'foolish'? Lol Though I'd say Valtr's general attitude was probably the bigger factor, and he is the more likely initiator of the breakup!

Valtr outright states that nothing impure deserves to live, whereas Djura is willing to spare the surviving beasts of Old Yharnam based on the fact that they can't harm anyone outside. He is not against the hunt entirely and is reasonable enough to acknowledge that outside of Old Yharnam seclusion, beasts are roaming the streets and attacking people; he sends Paleblood Hunter off to "make the best out of the night". And Valtr, in turn, could see this as a betrayal of their previously shared still naive ideals to "exterminate all bad things to protect everyone :3". Beasts are a dark concept, they are humans that failed to uphold their willpower and fell for the darkest, dirtiest side of humanity. Even if those in Old Yharnam basically got infected, are not they still "filth" in his eyes? So, Djura suddenly sympathises with the "filth", all after having been the Old Hunter so legendary that Hunters are still modelling their caps after his to this day!

But also, Valtr turned out to be reasonable enough to leave him be. He is not summonable in Old Yharnam, unlike Alfred, who you just can tell has THE fanatical mindset. But Valtr sure could grasp the concept of being pragmatic: Old Yharnam beasts, and Djura himself, are isolated now, right? If he was willing to protect the world from the "filthy" things, as far as he was concerned, it was protected from Old Yharnam. Djura is like a gaoler and beasts are like his jailed criminals, and definitely Valtr would recognise the concept, of all people!

So he and Djura parted the ways without hate but for the same reason why Paleblood Hunter and Djura part the ways. Because there are dangerous beasts 'out there', that need to be stopped. And dangerous people, too, but for Djura there is no difference, of course. I imagine it would still be bitter. Maybe Djura would prefer Valtr to chase beasts in Old Yharnam to get isolated within instead of murdering them, but Valtr would be upset at the suggestion. Leave out the Ashen Blood patients, but the beasts outside certainly, definitely became those due to their own dark impulses. And if some asshole long ago didn't fall for the dark impulses, his companions would still be alive! So how can Djura sympathise with that? Is he implying that Valtr should be (retroactively) sympathetic towards THAT beast too? Really bitter things like this on both sides, and Valtr would have stronger grudge, but they are grown men and can agree to simply never see each other again.

[clownpaws]

nomore of this tiktok therian shit. "don't worry I don't actually think i'm an animal lol"

Moveover, I do! BARK BARK BARK BARK-

[ingoodjesst]

when himeno tells aki not to die on her in chainsaw man episode 5, the warm tones of the hotel fall away into cool blues and grays.

aki meets himeno for the first time, and in each frame, we see himeno sectioned off from other people by the graves of fallen devil hunters. fitting for someone contracted with the ghost devil, she is so disconnected from the living world, because the spectre of death completely surrounds her. on the other hand, aki is framed by himself, off-center against a vast cloudy sky.

moveover, the camera angle keeps changing from shot to shot; although they've just become partners, they don't see eye-to-eye. in their own ways, aki and himeno are both alone.

even so, aki is not the one visually trapped by the ever-presence of death. because though aki has a tragic past of his own, he is yet unburdened by all the unending loss and suffering that comes with being a devil hunter. which is the cause of himeno's refrain: "don't die on me, aki."

[picopepin]

Cohost

Im actually a HUGE!!!! Fan of the UI for cohost and the layout... its blogging. BLOGGING. So here's my @-> https://cohost.org/Picopepin

I dont expect a huge moveover at the moment but Id be more than happy to spend more time on it... very comfy for sure

[redlightning1]

MoveOver Iron Man!

It's IronHeart Time to Shine!

[nickyfalconer2001]

hi all i hope you all enjoy my videos i work on and i think you all enjoy it to help ye moveover the time so you got somethin to look at well waiting or ae your just bore

[ptagtrucking]

PTAG Safety Tip : If your vehicle breaks down while your driving, then please DO NOT PANIC and get as far away from traffic or the road as possible. Your already in a frustrating situation, and panic and stress will only make that situation worse. Every year, more than 3,000 people are killed while trying to repair something too close to traffic. If you find yourself in this situation, keep yourself as safe as possible. 🚧🚛💨

#PTAG #PTAGSafety #Trucking #SafetyTip #MoveOver #GiveThemRoom

[ailtrahq]

A wallet owned by bankrupt crypto exchange FTX has moved $10 million worth of digital assets from the Solana (SOL) network to Ethereum, sparking concerns it could be the beginning of a series of token dumps amid the exchange’s bankruptcy proceedings. According to data from blockchain analytics platform Arkham Intelligence, since Aug. 31, the FTX wallet has transferred $6.23 million worth of Ether (ETH) and more than $4 million in altcoins.These included $1.2 million of FTX Token (FTT), $1.8 million worth of Uniswap (UNI), $1.3 million of HXRO (HXRO), $550,000 worth of SushiSwap (SUSHI) and $260,000 worth of Frontier Token (FRONT), to another FTX wallet by way of the Wormhole Bridge. FTX wallets on the moveOver $1.5B worth of $SOL, SPL tokens, and Wrapped #Bitcoin in FTX's Solana addresses are shifting‼️Looks like they're gearing up for potential sell-offs.Keep an eye on this, especially the ~$200M in #Solana Wrapped $BTC.#crypto #bitcoin … pic.twitter.com/sRDI6hvTJD— Pump House (@pumphouz) September 3, 2023 On Aug. 24 FTX proposed a plan to appoint Mike Novogratz’s Galaxy Digital Capital Management as the investment manager charged with overseeing the sale and management of its recovered crypto holdings. According to the plan, the FTX estate would only be permitted to sell $100 million of the tokens per week, however, that limit could be raised to $200 million on an individual token basis. These limits are intended to minimize the impact of token sales while simultaneously allowing FTX to make creditors whole. In addition to this plan, the exchange also filed a separate motion to hedge its larger holdings of Bitcoin (BTC) and Ether.While the propositions set forward in the filings are not yet legally binding, the case of FTX token sales is expected to come before the Delaware Bankruptcy Court on Sept. 13. In an April 12 hearing, FTX disclosed that it had recovered roughly $7.3 billion in liquid assets, with $4.8 billion of that sum being comprised of assets recovered as of November 2022. According to documents raised in the hearing, FTX held a total of $4.3 billion in crypto assets available for stakeholder recovery at market prices as of April 12. FTX assets available for stakeholder recovery as of April 12. Source: Sullivan and CromwellThe current reorganization plan for FTX includes a potential reboot of the cryptocurrency exchange, with FTX CEO John Ray III saying that the company had “begun the process of soliciting interested parties to the reboot of the FTX.com exchange.”According to FTX lawyers, the launch of the new exchange is expected to be completed sometime in the second quarter of 2024. Source

[suchananewsblog]

Moveover Butter Chicken: Indulge In This Delicious Punjabi Mutton Masala

Punjabi cuisine is known for its tantalising flavours. Whether it’s vegetarian or non-vegetarian, there’s no shortage of mouth-watering recipes to explore. Butter chicken, lemon chicken, Punjabi kadhi, and dal makhani are just a few examples of dishes that never fail to impress us. Punjabi cuisine is known for its bold spices and classic taste, making it the go-to for those craving a hot and…

[filmishine]

Moveover Butter Chicken: Indulge In This Delicious Punjabi Mutton Masala

Punjabi cuisine is known for its tantalising flavours. Whether it’s vegetarian or non-vegetarian, there’s no shortage of mouth-watering recipes to explore. Butter chicken, lemon chicken, Punjabi kadhi, and dal makhani are just a few examples of dishes that never fail to impress us. Punjabi cuisine is known for its bold spices and classic taste, making it the go-to for those craving a hot and…

[cdlhunter]

Who remembers this? #throwback #moveover #movebitchgetouttheway #rightlaner #cdl #trucking #truck #semitruck #truckstop #trucks #diesel #logistics #semi #freight #truckinglifestyle #largecar #bigrigs #truckstop #transportation #diesellife #18wheeler #bigrig #dieselnation #truckstop #cdldriver #cdljob #cdljobs #cdlhunter @cdlhunter https://www.instagram.com/p/CIbxXd2J-Gy/?igshid=5qrvadwlpd7x

[willbremanmusic]

Day 4 of getting the @spicegirls to notice me.⁠ #MoveOver has some really interesting 90s era sing/rap phrasing, so for me this took a lot longer than usual to get right 😅. ⁠ .⁠ #SayYoullBeThere is coming out on SEPTEMBER 23RD, and is now available for preorder on all streaming platforms! Click the link in my bio to peruse some options.⁠ #GetPsyched #LetsGo⁠ .⁠ .⁠ .⁠ .⁠ .⁠ #SpiceGirls #SpiceWorld #SantaBarbaraSoulMusic #SantaBarbara #SoulMusic #Soul #Music #Guitar #Guitarist #AcousticGuitar #Acoustic #TaylorGuitars @taylorguitars #Lofi #Bedroomrecording #Vocals #Vocalruns #JazzVocals @officialmelb @melaniecmusic @emmaleebunton @therealgerihalliwell @victoriabeckham https://www.instagram.com/p/CEmSpVagEZ8/?igshid=u980u162ejew

[secretgigglegirl]

Head up, stay strong, Fack a smile.....move on.