#rip spy magazine

[palomahasenteredthechat]

I’ve Seen Celebrity P.R. Tactics at Work. Blake Lively Is Not Alone.

By Elizabeth Spiers

Ms. Spiers, a contributing Opinion writer, is a journalist and a digital media strategist.

The actress Blake Lively is not someone I had a real opinion about before a few days ago, when the news broke that she had filed a legal complaint against Justin Baldoni, her “It Ends With Us” director and co-star, for sexual harassment and retaliation. But I saw a video a while back in which she appeared to be hostile to a reporter making a seemingly innocuous reference to her pregnancy. My impression was that she seemed a little rude and needlessly antagonistic. I saw the video thanks to a Daily Mail article suggesting that she was facing a backlash — one that, unbeknown to me, was allegedly the product of a smear campaign by a public relations firm hired by Mr. Baldoni to damage Ms. Lively’s reputation in order to pre-empt her accusations about his wildly inappropriate behavior on set.

Much of what we know about celebrities’ lives is shaped by P.R. professionals who are paid handsomely to create and spread stories that are flattering to their clients and unflattering to their perceived enemies. Reputation management is big business: The time and resources spent in Hollywood and New York to buff, polish and protect a star’s image can be greater than what’s spent to protect the reputations of some chief executives or senators. It’s a ruthless business, too. Dishonesty is often tolerated, on the dubious basis that entertainment is a frivolity and the stakes are low, and things like talent and truth can be tarnished with the art of the smear.

I saw the brute force of celebrity P.R. tactics up close early in my career after I co-founded the website Gawker in 2002 — which mostly covered well-known New Yorkers in the spirit of Spy magazine, which had christened Donald Trump a “short-fingered vulgarian” — and freelanced for The New York Post’s Page Six gossip column. In the first months of Gawker, in spite of having just around 10,000 readers a day, we got a cease-and-desist letter from Marty Singer, a well-known entertainment lawyer who insisted that we take down an unflattering story about one of his clients. The threat never went anywhere because we had not published the story but had merely linked to it. These were the early days of the internet, and many people didn’t understand how hyperlinks worked. It’s unclear to me even now whether his firm understood this perfectly well but sent the cease-and-desist letter to try to intimidate us anyway.

At Page Six, the P.R. apparatus of blocking and tackling was even more apparent because the gossip industry is so intertwined with celebrities. P.R. people wouldn’t just defend their clients; they would try to plant flattering stories, derail unflattering ones or pit celebrities against each other to redirect attention.

Most of the plants were fairly innocuous — a sighting of a celebrity at an upscale restaurant or a note about what a celebrity was wearing. Others were more strategic, and publicists would sometimes try to negotiate more flattering coverage of one client by offering a scoop about another or a tip about a client’s rival.

Sometimes publicists would use access to celebrities as leverage. On one occasion a powerful New York publicist was so angry that the head of the column wouldn’t kill a story about a friend and former love interest that she threatened to ban its staff members from all of her high-profile events. In retaliation, the columnist she threatened published a salacious blind item about her and called her parties “horrific.”

No one is more sensitive about celebrity image making and reputation management than the celebrities themselves. I was once on a panel with the actor Alec Baldwin at the Hamptons International Film Festival for a documentary that was partly about Gawker, and he more or less lit into me onstage because he was resentful about an item that the site published years after I left, reporting that he had called his then-11-year-old daughter, Ireland, a pig in an angry voice mail.

He suggested that entertainment journalists were leeches determined to invade his privacy and that he tried to stay out of the spotlight. I laughed because, in my view, this was obviously not true. Mr. Baldwin and other stars appeared regularly in Page Six — often because celebrity publicists called to plant flattering stories about them. (His wife, Hilaria Baldwin, a former lifestyle correspondent for “Extra,” a show about Hollywood celebrities, acknowledged to me at a dinner after a panel that this happened but suggested that their P.R. people did it without their knowledge.)

Now that so much reputation management happens on social media platforms and elsewhere on the internet, the sources of information — and ultimately, the truth and the manufactured lies about a celebrity — are harder to sort through.

This was something Mr. Baldoni’s P.R. firm is accused of exploiting on his behalf via coordinated posts on various platforms. They allegedly used a technique called astroturfing, in which they used social media accounts to create the impression that Ms. Lively was difficult to work with and betraying feminism in some way while playing up Mr. Baldoni’s credentials as a self-proclaimed feminist who cared about preventing domestic violence. And his P.R. firm was largely successful until Ms. Lively’s legal complaint laid out the alleged smear campaign. Her business suffered, and so did her reputation. (Mr. Baldoni’s attorney said in a statement to The Times that the accusations of a smear campaign were “categorically false.”)

Why are these techniques sometimes so damaging? Celebrities, actors in particular, traffic in narrative. People want to know about them because they see them play out human dramas onscreen and feel they can relate to them. Viewers develop what social psychologists call parasocial relationships with them — one-way relationships in which people identify with and feel they understand another person, who, to put it bluntly, doesn’t know they exist. They think they know something about who a celebrity is because they relate to characters the celebrity has played, and they’re genuinely curious about the lives of actors beyond their onscreen roles. Celebrities deal with this by hiring P.R. people to manage their reputations or simply keeping a low profile.

For stars like Ms. Lively and her husband, the actor Ryan Reynolds, keeping tabs on their public image is a necessity because the way people perceive them directly affects the success of their work. They are not just people who have a job in entertainment; they are brands. The machinery to protect or upend those brands is often as or more extensive than it is for large, high-profile companies, in part because people relate to stars very personally in a way that they don’t relate to institutions or products.

My 9-year-old son plays a video game called Fortnite and was delighted to discover Mr. Reynolds popping out of an A.T.M. in the game because he thinks Mr. Reynolds is hilarious and likable. (I agree, but I don’t know him personally, and this could be the work of very good P.R. people and a generally positive parasocial relationship.) These parasocial relationships are crucial to the business of Hollywood, where a popular actor can make or break a big-budget movie.

In this sense, Ms. Lively had another thing working against her: the particular line women have to walk in the public eye. They must be likable in a way that men don’t have to be. It probably says something positive about her that the worst thing Mr. Baldoni’s P.R. firm could produce in terms of smearing her were clips and social media posts that suggested she was unlikable and nitpicked about her posture and tone, which is easy to do with any high-profile woman, especially one who’s been interviewed hundreds of times. Everyone has an off day or a clip that can be unflattering out of context. If you have an impression of Ms. Lively and it’s generally negative, it may be because, like me, you saw one of those clips and the sprawling campaign that put those clips in front of you was invisible to you.

The allegations Ms. Lively makes in her complaint are chilling. Among other things, she says that Mr. Baldoni kept insisting that she perform sex scenes that were not part of the script, touched and kissed her without consent, suggested she was too fat and old to play the part and absurdly called for her to be nude for a scene in which she delivers a baby, because, she says he insisted, that’s what women do when they give birth. (Ms. Lively is a mother of four, by the way. She is not exactly unaware of what that process looks like.)

She dealt behind the scenes with all that she says happened, and the irony is that you and I would know nothing about it if Mr. Baldoni hadn’t allegedly tried to harm her reputation and was successful in doing so — at which point she felt she had little choice but to sue him and make it public.

The complaint itself is a kind of reputation management, one that’s far more effective than an astroturfing campaign because it’s transparent. You know who’s making the allegations and why. You know that a court will evaluate facts and evidence — not just viral gossip and planted stories about a given celebrity, often shaped by people you never see. You know the verdict can’t be reversed simply by the subterranean digital warfare of P.R. executives. And you know the reputations of all parties, in the end, will rise or fall not on celebrity image making but on something far closer to the truth.

[the-teufort-nine]

Arousal hcs for the support class? What are they like when they’re horny?

Support Classes | What Support Is Like When They Need To Go To Horny Jail

Obviously, NSFW below!

Sniper:

<3 This man will go to insane lengths for privacy to jork it. Like, he will straight up drive off into the desert before his belt even gets unbuckled.

<3 UNLESS he gets hot 'n bothered during battle, and he has the object of his infatuation nearby his nest. Then they're getting yoinked off the battlefield and into his lap.

<3 Listen. This man is gross. I know this. You know this. Don't lie to yourself. He definitely has a scent kink and will snag his partner/crush's underwear to help him get off if they're not around.

<3 Get's FERAL when he's horny. If he's alone, he bites his hand so hard it bleeds, and if he's with someone, they ain't leavin' till he breeds. Expect lots of growls and snarls and rough love bites.

<3 Want him to get horny immediately? Stretch and show your neck/midriff.

<3 Likes post-nut snuggles. Don't expect him to be vocal for a little while.

Spy:

<3 Despite being such a romantic person who clearly gets bitches, he doesn't get horny very often. Like, if he's with someone, then obviously he doesn't have any problems getting it up, but he doesn't usually pop a boner midday.

<3 When he does though? Insatiable. This man is not going to settle for any old porn magazine. No, he's going to get his material straight from the source. Is this an invasion of privacy? Yes. Does he care? Right now, not at all.

<3 Acts just as stuttering and clumsy as his son if the person he's interested in shows up when he's trying to take care of himself, before he get's hella snappy. Either fuck off or come help him!

<3 Really slow to trust and get comfortable with someone. Don't expect the mask to come off until you have a super strong bond with Spy.

<3 Usually quiet if he's masturbating, but he likes to praise his partners. Lots of petting and light hair pulling to guide them.

<3 Wanna give him a 'problem?' Put on a classy outfit and take the lead. Tease him a little, and if you're good enough, he'll fold like wet, hard laundry.

<3 Post-nut cigarette inbound. King of aftercare, but please treat him nice too.

Medic:

<3 Exhibitionism! Get your exhibitionism here!

<3 This man has no shame. He won't do it, like, in the common areas, but if you walk into his Medbay or Room after work hours, that's on you. Def has masturbated on the battlefield before. Man's is a FREAK for blood and gore.

<3 Also pretty insatiable, though he gets hornier more often than Spy does. He can take care of himself, but he prefers a warm body to help him out.

<3 He's into bloodplay, doctor/nurse roleplay, and probably wound fucking, if I'm being honest. Also, he decided that, out of all the things he could of done to get back at Team Classic, he decided to get them pregnant.

<3 What i mean here is: Medic has a breeding kink, and he will make it a reality, no matter the sex of his partner.

<3 LOUD ASS GERMAN MAN. People know when he's taking care of himself or getting some. Please gag him. PLEASE.

<3 Wanna make him think with his other head? Dress up in a nurse outfit and/or rip someone's organs out. Fair warning, though, if you take the 'and' option, you'll be walking funny for a while, if you can walk at all.

<3 Great at cleaning you and him up post-nut. Gets clingy afterwards and very possesive. Pray your teammates don't accidentally stumble across you, because they're gonna meet a bloody end.

[old-fandom]

College age Stanford Pines with a copy of "Hunky Drifters 1975" and seeing his brother on the cover. College age Stanford Pines buying it without so much as looking through it, horribly embarrassed, enraged, and turned on. College age Stanford Pines pulling the padge so hard to the magazine that he damn near rips his Lil IQ off. College age Stanford Pines falling asleep with the magazine because he misses his brother so badly yet still so angry with him. College age Stanford Pines talking to Stan in the magazine about his day in school, telling him about his professors, his courses, cracking jokes with him, updating him on the family. College age Stanford Pines coming close to murder when he sees Fiddleford looking through his copy while commenting on how handsome the guy on the cover is. College age Stanford Pines confessing to Fiddleford through tears and snot that it's his brother and it's the only physical piece of evidence that he's got that Stanley is not dead after being kicked out at 17.

Grad Student Stanford Pines bringing his copy with him through his entire academic career, pulling and talking to Stan. Grad Student Stanford Pines celebrating his graduation by showing Stan his diplomas, like he envisioned showing the real Stan, and how he would have been so proud of him, how he would have encouraged him, how he would made a joke, cracked a smile, and stole his breath away with a kiss.

Gravity Falls Stanford Pines, keeping his magazine in his bedside drawer, using it less and less as his time with the unknown, his research, Bill, then eventually the portal took over.

30's Stanford Pines putting everything he had with eyes into a locked storage area in his closet, placing Stan's magazine at the very bottom (the thought of Bill using Stan's eyes to spy on him made him sick.)

Sea Grunkle Stanford Pines spitting out his coffee as Stanley held up the old and beaten copy of "Hunky Drifters 1975". Sea Grunkle Stanford Pines desperately trying to get the magazine out of Stan's hands as he moves further and further away from him, teasing him about it.

Sea Grunkle Stanley Pines throwing the magazine into the trash while taking Stanford's hand, asking him if he wants to see some of those poses live. (He already has, multiple times, but who is he to say no.)

Sea Grunkle Stanford Pines digging through the trash for the magazine at night and hiding it somewhere for safe keeping then returning to bed with the model of "Hunky Drifters 1975".

[rabbittf2x]

mercs with S/O with sensory issues?

Mercs with a Reader who has sensory issues

Pyro💖

Pyro was very understanding and thoughtful when it came to your sensory issues. Whenever you had trouble with certain lights or sounds, he liked to lend you his spare gas mask. You couldn’t hear or see as clearly in it, which helped you calm down. You could also join him in Pyroland with it on! Pyro’s favourite thing to do was skip around with you there

But if he didn’t have an extra mask on him and you were feeling overstimulated, Pyro covered your eyes or ears with his hands. He got pretty protective over you, pulling you close and hiding you in his chest if you let him

Being snuggled up close to Pyro’s suit was super comforting. When things got bad, he loved nothing more but to let you cuddle up into him and rest your senses. The loveable little firebug would even hum you a song

Engineer💖

If you had sensory issues with loud noises, Engie tried to pipe it down when you were around. Because he liked it when you came to visit him in his workshop, and didn’t want to scare you away. So when you spent time with him while working, he steered clear of anything with loud bangs or zaps

Similar to Pyro, if you had trouble with any bright lights, he lent you his goggles to wear. They only dimmed the lighting down a tad, but it was the thought that counted. Engie also thought you looked so cute in them!

When with you, Engineer was always on the look out for anything that might trigger you. He was very protective over you, and it ripped him up to see you overstimulated

Spy💖

Spy understood your sensory issues. I mean, it was pretty easy to overstimulate while living with Team Fortress. He let you come hide away with him in his smoking room. It was the perfect place to relax if you had a sensory overload

You sat next to Spy by the fire, finally feeling some inner peace again. He was sipping on some scotch while passively flipping through a magazine. He was purposely trying to be quiet so you could cool off. You knew this and loved him for it

“Thank you, Spy… you’re a pretty great guy.”

Spy was kicking himself for it, but felt an unreasonably large amount of pride hearing you say that. Like he’d let you know that though

“De rien.” Spy muttered passively, not looking up from his magazine (he was giggling on the inside)

Heavy💖

You did not need to worry. Heavy would keep you safe. If he could, he’d crush every stupid little thing that gave you sensory issues to dust. Please tell him one of those stupid things was Scout. He’d love to crush Scout

You were lucky to be around Heavy most of the time. Because it was rare that anything he did would overload you with sensory issues. Er, well… unless you knew him on the battlefield. When at war, Heavy was loud, and fired this big, mean minigun. Being around that definitely wasn’t good for your mental health

Like said before, not to worry. Heavy never acted like that around you. With you, he became the softest, most gentle teddy bear of a man. He kept you close at all times, loving to snuggle or soothe you

Heavy may of acted like a saint when cuddling up with you, but if anyone rubbed one of your senses the wrong way? Dead :)

Sniper💖

“Nah, don’t worry, mate. Come hang out with me in the van!”

You could’ve considered yourself lucky that Sniper invited you into his camper… um, I think? It wasn’t like he ever let anyone else in there

Sniper felt for you. He didn’t like seeing you overwhelmed with sensory issues. It made him sad. :( so he often stole you away to come chill in his van. He kept the lights down low, as to not hurt your eyes. And he even offered you some coffee or a beer

Sniper kept stealing glances of you from across the camper, quietly taking in the subtleties of your beauty. He wanted to sit in this warm, comfortable silence with you forever. Little did he know, you felt the same way

“Thank you for letting me come in here, Mr Mundy. I really appreciate it.” You said softly

Sniper had to stifle the wobbly smile that tried to force its way onto his face

“No—no worries, darl.”

Scout💖

Scout finally learned how to keep his big mouth shut. It really hurt him the first time you flinched or shied away from him because he was being too loud. He felt so bad that he made you feel that way. Later, Scout caught up to you and set his hands on either of your shoulders

“I’m so sorry. I promise—I swear, I’ll talk less… loudly. I didn’t mean to scare ya like that.” He rambled

Your shoulders shook under his hands as you chuckled softly. “You’re so sweet, Scout. Thank you, but it’s okay.” You smiled

Scout was about to protest, to say he didn’t want to overstimulate you in any way… but you cut him off with a small peck to his cheek, making him blush deeply

“I like you just the way you are.”

Soldier💖

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’M TALKING TOO LOUD?”

It took Soldier awhile to understand your sensory issues. He didn’t get at all that him yelling right in your ear was making you feel bad. Some of the other mercs may of needed to explain it better to him

Once Soldier finally realised what his constant yelling at you was doing to your mental health, he was very sorry. He didn’t mean it in a malicious way at all. In fact, quite the opposite! It was one of his ways of showing you affection, believe it or not

Soldier now resorted to more… conventional ways of expressing his love for you. Instead of shouting or firing weapons near you 24/7, he tried being quiet! :0 to show how sorry he was for causing you grief, he hugged you a lot more. He also made a good habit of whispering sweet nothings in your ear

Demoman💖

Demoman felt a little useless when he first found out about your sensory issues. He didn’t know how to help you. He usually just tried to make you laugh, which wasn’t hard. Especially when he was shit faced

If certain lights or bright screens were hurting your eyes, Demo just yanked the eyepatch right off his face and gave it to you. He covered one of your eyes with it, then shielded the other with his hand drunkenly

“Is that better?” He slurred

You couldn’t help but find his hasty attempt at soothing you cute. “Yes, Demo.” You laughed. “Yes, thank you. That helps.”

Spending drunken nights with Demo were a great way to steer clear from all things triggering to your senses. After a certain few drinks, he grew quiet and sleepy; the perfect cuddle buddy. Demoman loved to snuggle up close to you in your bed

Medic💖

Medic came up with many experiments and concoctions to improve your sensory issues. Don’t take it the wrong way. He was only trying to help! (I wouldn’t take anything he actually gave you though)

Medic got super cranky with the other mercs if they accidentally gave you a sensory overload. Whether it be by their loudness, weapons or unnecessary explosions, there was always something going on that was gonna shake you up

Medic hated seeing you all upset over loud noises or bright lights. It killed him to know there wasn’t anything long term he could do to help you

“Medic, stop it.” You shook your head with a smile. You wrapped your arms around the doctor in a warm hug, nuzzling into his chest. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine! Everything’s all good.” You reassured

Medic pouted, throwing his own arms around you a moment later. “I know, dove. I just…” he sighed

[madame-fear]

Omg those three following Luke and y/n around would be like straight out of a sitcom! Those three losers antics to avoid being seen increase in ridiculousness as the night goes on. You see tall as hell Aemond trying to hide behind a tiny plant, you’ve got Jace ripping a newspaper/magazine out of some poor unsuspecting souls hands and tries to hide his face behind it, and then there’s Aegon literally diving into the fountain to avoid being spotted (ended up creating a huge scene bc it’s a fountain Aegon, what’s wrong with you?). Things get wild after the fountain bc now these three hooligans have mall security trailing them after causing such a public disturbance 🤣 and the shenanigans continue

Bonus points, Luke and y/n obviously see everything and go from doing cute couple things to increasingly weirder stuff just to get hilarious/confused reactions from the guys!

THEY ARE THE TREE MUSKETEERS OF FAILURE. They literally do look like taken out of a sitcom! 😭

I can imagine them doing the most weird, inconvenient shit just to get a little peek of whatever the hell Luke and you are doing out on your evening date together. For example, to pass unrecognised, they will literally enter the fucking shopping mall with sunglasses at night.

Hell, and that's not enough! I know Jace and Aemond would send Aegon to enter with sunglasses to one of the stores both Luke and you entered just to spy on you and don't be recognised by anyone. Though of course, he gets stared at more than he should because... sunglasses?? Inside a shopping mall store while visiting at night time??? hello????? Ofc one of the workers of the store suspect of him and forces him out, but he's not a robber, he's — all of them are — just dumb. And their excuses are even worse.

“Sir, may I ask, why are you wearing glasses inside the store?” “You wouldn't get it. People make too much eye contact with me and that just drains too much my energy and good vibes—” “Okay, sir, are you going to buy something or not? Otherwise get the hell out of here or I'm calling security on you.”

They ended up calling security on them, sooner or later. Their silly mode just got even more intense, to the point they had to escape from the claws of the shopping mall security.

Why? because they had no other better idea than to cause disturbance around the mall. When spotting both Luke and you hanging around the mall holding hands or entering a store or whatever, Aemond would hide in a tiny plant that's not even half the size of him, Jace rips the newspapers from an elderly man's hands only to read the news backwards while trying to hide his face behind of it, and Aegon just... dives into the mall's fountains, provoking an absolute mess of water all around him, and getting wet himself. So, since they are public disturbance — ESPECIALLY Aegon —, they all had to do a great runaway from the mall security, passing as three lunatics... while Luke and you stared from afar, laughing your asses off at these idiots.

But the security mall was never enough to stop them! They left the shopping for a while — while complaining to themselves like whiny bitches bc they can't spy on you —, only to return afterwards and spot that you two were still in the shopping mall! And you stood there, knowing they'd return. So you decide to fuck around them for a while more. From going to drink something at a random mall's coffee shop together while holding hands and kissing and calling each other sweetly sickening nicknames just to briefly stare at them holding their shit from afar and fangirling like little girls, to going together to the bathroom stalls and messing each other's clothings and makeups to make it look like you had something intimate in there. The last one would make them just stare at each other with a pale ass face, proceeded by public fangirl-gushing and whisper-shouting to themselves at what the hell did you just do.

Nor Lucerys nor you are stupid, so you like going to dates more often than you should just for the fun of messing around these three goofballs. It's like a hobby now.

♡ taglist : ♡

@jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @tickle-euphoria @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @dopepersonacloudllama @phantasyy @tasty-nutella

[helenofsimblr]

Cat: Kali and I never found any common ground. I'd force her to wine tasting events and art shows... but she would have been happy to just not go. She didn't really like my writing for the magazine that I do…”Why do you need to go there for a week to write about some pissant who doesn't matter?"

Francine: If she was just there to spy on you, then, I guess she wouldn't want you out of her sight or doing things that made you hard to keep tabs on.

Cat: Yeah, you're right. I never considered that she didn't want me to go anywhere because I was the job... something to watch and keep tabs on.

Francine: What a bitch. Pardon my candor. Her loss Cat.

Cat: No need to pardon! She was a rip roaring cunt. Especially when she had to go to something she didn't want to. It was her way… or no way! 

****

Francine: Kali is gonna learn what losing really is

Cat: I wish Kyleigh was still around to corroborate what she said over the phone during the station fall. She gave me some serious verbal abuse then!

Francine: Who was Kyleigh? Was she a friend?

Cat: No. I had only just met her through Robinson contacts. I needed a place to hide for the station and she offered me a space. She's Lyra's uh, twin… She had a place nearby and allowed me to hide with her. I called Kali to say I loved her and what not. She wanted me to come home that minute and called me a variety of horrible names and screeched over the phone so loud that Kyleigh heard every word. She's sadly deceased so she cannot help with that anyway.

Francine: ah ok, sorry to hear that. That one will be rather anecdotal, however, in context of the other things we can prove, it should still stand though not with the same uprightness, write down what Kali said.

****

Cat: I have plenty of evidence of her on my computer I can forward to you.

Francine: Excellent. Cat, in my opinion, I doubt this will go to court. I really do. If she was involved in some military programs or whatever, they will not want that going forward to court. All we need to do is get her in the room and sign papers. That should be easy.

Cat: From what I gather, the military won't admit to the tests... but a “Dr. Eichler” was involved in Kali's transformation. She met him at Fox college.

Francine: We will see what shakes loose then, I will have to go and speak to Lyra at some point. But it will be over for you, then you can head back to Sulani.

Cat: Hopefully you'll have some vacation time and you can come with me!"

Francine: I'd like to. I would like to, indeed. My boss wouldn't deny me a chance to visit some of my extended relatives I’m sure. And I best get back to the office, looks like we gave our tail the slip, I look forward to next time Cat.

Cat: Me too Francine. And thanks. 

[ariel-seagull-wings]

ANDRÉ LEBLANC

@thealmightyemprex @themousefromfantasyland @the-blue-fairie @princesssarisa @piterelizabethdevries @themetropoliskonboy @a-roguish-gambit @knivxsanddespair @professorlehnsherr-almashy @gravedangerahead @softlytowardthesun

Early life André LeBlanc was born in 1921 in Haïti as the son of a French mother and Honduran father. LeBlanc's path of life led him through several countries, spending many years in the USA, Cuba and Brazil. In a March 1972 interview with O Pasquim magazine, LeBlanc said he had little memories of his time in Haiti. During the 1920s, the family already moved to the United States, where André LeBlanc spent the largest part of his childhood. In New York, he got his artistic training at the Art Students League, while debuting in the upcoming comic book industry.

American comic books In 1939, eighteen-year-old André LeBlanc got a job with the New York City-based comic production studio of Will Eisner and Jerry Iger. There, he was initially an assistant doing backgrounds and inking on the team's comic book production - largely for Quality Comics and Fiction House - while learning the trade from Will Eisner, Reed Crandall, Lou Fine and other associated artists. Among his other influences were the magazine illustrators Harold Von Schmidt, Matt Clark and Tom Lovell.

When Eisner-Iger was dissolved in 1940, LeBlanc worked for production studios led by Jerry Iger solo (S.M. Iger, founded in 1940) and Jack Binder (Binder Studio, founded in 1942), and also directly for publisher Everett M. "Busy" Arnold, who ran Quality Comics. At Binder, LeBlanc worked alongside Lee Ames and Dan Barry, who became lifelong friends of his. During these early years of his career, LeBlanc did pencil and/or inking duties on features like 'Sheena, Queen of the Jungle', 'Steve Brodie', 'Famous Fighters', 'Kayo Kirby' and 'Rip Carson' for comic books published by Fiction House Comics. At Fawcett Comics, he worked on superheroes like 'Bulletman', 'Captain Marvel', 'Golden Arrow' and 'Spy Smasher', while his Quality Comics contributions included work on 'Destroyer 171' in National Comics and 'P.T. Boat' in Military Comics. As an inker, he regularly worked with pencil artist John Spranger. During the 1940s, André LeBlanc also illustrated pulp magazines and occasional comic book stories for Street and Smith publishers.

Around 1943-1944, LeBlanc had to leave the USA for Cuba to take care of the estate of his recently deceased father, who was growing sugar and coffee on a piece of land. After wrapping up his father's businesses, he decided to stay and settled in Havana, which at the time, as he recalled in the O Pasquim interview, was a blossoming city populated by intellectual fugitives, spies of all nationalities and Spanish exiles.

Intellectual Amos While in Cuba, André LeBlanc got an idea for his own comic feature, and submitted it to his former boss in the USA, publisher Everett M. "Busy" Arnold. Intended as a protest against the superhero genre, 'Intellectual Amos' (1944-1945) was about a boy who was abandoned at the door of a library. Growing up there, he read everything and became an intellectual, who fought villains with his childlike innocence, unusual powerful memory and knowledge gained from reading. With four pages a week, 'Intellectual Amos' ran as a back-up feature in Will Eisner's Sunday newspaper supplement 'The Spirit Section' starting on 21 May 1944.

André LeBlanc continued to produce 'Intellectual Amos' when in 1944 he moved from Cuba to Brazil. There, he married his Brazilian wife Elvira Telles and settled in Niterói, a residential suburb of Rio de Janeiro. However, mailing his weekly comic pages to the USA eventually became problematic. The packages were intercepted by US customs and heavily taxed as works of art. Publisher Arnold was not prepared to pay the thousand dollar fine, and as a result the weekly 'Intellectual Amos' feature came to an accidental end on 29 April 1945. It was replaced by Al Stahl's 'Flatfood Burns'. Between February 1945 and August 1947, longer monthly stories with Amos and his sidekick Wilbur the Goblin appeared in Quality Comics titles like Police Comics and National Comics.

Work in Brazil With his regular assignment in the USA coming to an end, LeBlanc began exploring the Brazilian market. One of his first publications there was the cover for issue #1914 of the children's magazine O Tico-Tico (May 1945). He then also illustrated double-page short story spreads for the weekly magazine O Cruzeiro, and contributed to the cultural monthly A Cigarra.

He later also did commercial art assignments through the São Paulo branch of the J. Walter Thompson advertising agency. For Editora Brasiliense, he made the interior illustrations for almost all the re-editions of the children's books by Monteiro Lobato (1882-1948); the cover drawings were by Augusto Mendes da Silva (AKA  Augustus/Avgvstvs).

Morena Flor One of LeBlanc's best-known Brazilian comic creations was 'Morena Flor' (1948-1951), a daily strip of 833 episodes, published in the newspaper Diario da Noite. Debuting on 16 August 1948, Morena was a Brazilian jungle girl who fought the despoilers of the Amazon. Through Luiz Rosemberg's Agência Periodista Latino-Americana, LeBlanc's ecologically-themed strip was also distributed to newspapers in Argentina, Chile and Mexico. In 1953, the stories were also reprinted as a back-up feature in Capitão Atlas, a comic book based on the radio serial created by Péricles do Amaral.

Edição Maravilhosa Between 1950 and 1954, LeBlanc was also a prominent artist for the comic book collection 'Edição Maravilhosa - Clássicos Ilustrados', published by Adolfo Aizen's publishing company EBAL (Edição Maravilhosa da Editora Brasil-América Limitada). The Brazilian answer to the American 'Classics Illustrated' series, the Edição Maravilhosa comic books adapted important titles of Brazilian literature into comics.

LeBlanc notably drew the installments with adaptations of works by the 19th-century Brazilian Romantic novelist José de Alencar ('O Guarani', 'Iracema', 'Ubirajara', 'O Tronco do Ipê') and the regionalist novelist José Lins do Rego ('O Menino de Engenho', 'Doidinho', 'Banguê', 'Cangaceiros').

He additionally adapted classic novels by Joaquim Manuel de Macedo ('A Moreninha'), Dinah Silveira de Queiroz ('A Muralha'), Gastão Cruls ('A Amazônia Misteriosa'), Maria Dezonne Pacheco Fernandes ('Sinhá Moça') and Herberto Sales ('Cascalho').

Among the other artists working for this collection were Manoel Victor Filho, Nico Rosso, Ramón Llampayas, Aylton Thomaz, Gil Coimbra, José Geraldo and Gutemberg Monteiro.

Traveling reporter During the 1950s, LeBlanc also worked as an illustrator-reporter for the Brazilian newspapers Correiro da Manha and O Globo. For the latter, he traveled to the East for a series of 36 illustrated reports, first visiting India (Bombay, Benares, Agra, Calcutta, Goa), then going through Pakistan and the region that is now Bangladesh. After six months, he returned home through Europe.

In 1956, LeBlanc moved back to New York, where his wife could undergo medical treatment for a complication in her spine.

The treatment lasted more than a year, and the LeBlanc family decided to stay. In 1969, they went back to Brazil once again, but returned to the States a couple of years later. In Brazil, LeBlanc was part of a select group of cutting-edge illustrators that flourished in the country, but the repression of the military dictatorship made life difficult. In interviews, he expressed concerns about raising his children in the country.

A polyglot himself, he preferred to have his children educated in English instead of Portuguese.

U.S. comic book work Already in the second half of the 1940s, LeBlanc had renewed his old contacts in the United States. Between 1947 and 1948, he assisted his old taskmaster Will Eisner on the inking of 'The Spirit'. In 1949, he also contributed to the single issue of Eisner's children's comic book Kewpies, drawing the 'Pito' feature. He was also back at Quality Comics, drawing the 'Poodle Mc Doodle' feature in Modern Comics. Between 1951 and 1953, LeBlanc drew stories for Quality's 'Plastic Man' comic book, following in the footsteps of the series' creator, fellow former Eisner co-worker Jack Cole. LeBlanc's closeness with Will Eisner persisted over the years. In 1983, he helped his old friend with the colorization of his graphic novel 'Signal from Space'.

During the 1950s, even before his return to the USA, LeBlanc continued to work for American comic book companies. In 1952-1953, he drew a couple of crime and horror stories for 'Authentic Police Cases' and 'Weird Horrors' by St. John Publishing.

A couple of years later, he was present at Dell Comics, drawing comic adaptations of 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame' (1957) and 'The Pride and the Passion' (1957) for the publisher's Four Color Comics line of one-shot books.

According to Jerry Bails' 'Who is Who' index, LeBlanc possibly drew episodes of features like 'My Paul, Alien', 'Spyman' and 'Super Surplus' for Harvey Comics in 1966. Between 1966 and 1968, he was working for Western Publishing, drawing about a dozen stories for the anthology titles 'Ripley's Believe It Or Not', 'The Twilight Zone' and 'Boris Karloff Tales of Mystery'.

For the 1967 'Wham-O Giant Comics' anthology - published by the Wham-O toy company - LeBlanc made the three-page World War I story about 'The Young Eagles'. Between 1966 and 1967, LeBlanc was a penciler and inker for the 'Mandrake the Magician' title of King Comics, the comic book imprint of King Features Syndicate. It was the first time he worked with one of Lee Falk's creations; more followed later in his career.

Ghost artist for newspaper comics For a large part of his career, André LeBlanc was happy to work in the service of others. Besides assisting Will Eisner, he spent long periods of time doing well-paid jobs as assistant and ghost artist for newspaper comics.

Between 1957 and 1959, he regularly helped his former Binder Studio colleague Dan Barry with the 'Flash Gordon' newspaper comic. During this same period, he ghosted for Dan's brother Sy Barry on large parts of the civil rights comic book 'Martin Luther King and the Montgomery Story' (Fellowship of Reconciliation, 1958).

Around 1976, he replaced George Olesen as Sy Barry's regular assistant on the newspaper comic with Lee Falk's 'The Phantom'.

One notable sequence penciled and inked anonymously by LeBlanc were the 1977 daily strips and Sunday pages detailing the Phantom's marriage to Diana Palmer.

LeBlanc continued to work with Sy Barry on an on-again off-again basis until the latter's retirement in 1994.

In the 1970s, LeBlanc also did some assistant work on the 'Mandrake the Magician' newspaper comic, another Lee Falk creation, drawn for King Features Syndicate by Fred Fredericks.

In August-September 1976 and August-October 1978, he additionally helped Alex Kotzky with the 'Apartment 3-G' strip and in the 1978-1979 period, he also ghosted on both Sunday and daily episodes of the 'Rex Morgan, M.D.' strip for Frank Edgington and Marvin Bradley.

Our Bible in Pictures LeBlanc's biggest claim to fame was arguably the Bible series he did for publisher David C. Cook. The origins of the project lay in the early 1950s, when Cook had Reverend David S. Piper write and Joseph Wirt Tillotson draw Bible stories in picture story format, added as "take home" supplements to Sunday Pix, a Christian comic book aimed at Sunday School pupils. By 1958, plans for a full Bible comic adaptation came about. Editor Iva Hoth was chosen to write the text to go with the pictures, while LeBlanc was hired as illustrator. Between October 1959 and 1964, 'Our Bible in Pictures' appeared as weekly installments of three to four pages in Sunday Pix. In 1964, selections of the feature were collected as the 'Life of Jesus' book, which appeared with editions in English, Dutch, Finnish, Indonesian, Japanese, Norwegian, Russian, Spanish, and Swedish.

In 1973, the first book version of the entire series appeared in black-and-white as the six-volume 'The Picture Bible for All Ages' collection. For reprints later that decade, LeBlanc was assigned to colorize the entire project. In 1978, a New Testament version appeared, followed in 1979 by 'The Picture Bible', containing both the Old and New Testaments in 750 full-color comic pages. Since then, the book has often been reprinted, becoming a worldwide hit. Interviewed in May 2001, the director of Cook Communications Ministries International, Ralph Gates, estimated that 75 million copies of the Picture Bible had been distributed around the world with translations in over 130 languages, including Russian, Spanish, Portuguese, Hungarian, Romanian and Tagalog. In 2010, David C. Cook Publishing released a new and modernized version of 'The Picture Bible', entitled 'The Action Bible', with scripts by Doug Mauss and artwork by Sergio Cariello.

Other work Following the immense success of this ambitious Bible project for David C. Cook, LeBlanc became a sought-after illustrator for other Bible-related projects, including work for magazines and Sunday schools. In the mid-1980s, he was hired by Hanna-Barbera as character designer for the animated direct-to-video series 'The Greatest Adventure Stories from the Bible' (1985-1992). Years earlier, he had already worked for Hanna-Barbera as an in-betweener on the animated TV show 'Space Ghost and Dino Boy' (1966-1968).

During the 1950s, LeBlanc also teamed up with former Binder Studio colleague Lee Ames to illustrate children's textbooks for publisher MacMillan. Represented by Ames' agent Mary Gerard, LeBlanc also landed jobs with other educational publishers, such as Allyn & Bacon. With Ames, he additionally collaborated on book projects like 'George Washington: Frontier Colonel' (Random House, 1957) and 'Draw 50 People from the Bible' (Watson-Guptill, 1995).

In 1959, LeBlanc was a contributing illustrator to the twelve-volume 'Picture World Encyclopedia' series, edited by Gene Fawcette. He illustrated paperback novels like 'Snow Treasure' by Marie McSwigan (Scholastic, 1958) as well as a mid-1980s sex manual, while doing commercial art assignments through the Ted Bates Advertising Agency. He was additionally an instructor at New York City's School of Visual Arts.

Recognition and legacy

In Brazil, André LeBlanc was awarded the prestigious "Southern Cross" - the highest honor that can be bestowed upon a Brazilian citizen - for his illustrations for classical literature.

After a long and varied career, André LeBlanc died in the USA on 21 December 1998, at the age of 77. Dividing his time between the USA and Brazil, LeBlanc worked in many fields and genres.

From the blossoming American comic book market to Brazilian journalism and youth literature, and from religious publications to newspaper comics. In articles, LeBlanc was described as a person with a great curiosity and intellect.

During his lifetime, he learned how to speak six languages fluently. He was also known for his keen understanding of science, politics, history and arts. These character traits he shared with his signature creation, 'Intellectual Amos'.

This boy genius can be considered a forerunner to later comic book whiz kids like 'Génial Olivier' by Jacques Devos in the Belgian Spirou magazine (1963-1988), and Alan Moore and Kevin Nowlan's 'Jack B. Quick' (1999-2002) at DC Comics in the USA.

André LeBlanc was also cited as an influence on Flavio Colin. 

[francesminos-tt]

I think we don’t have enough lucemond hp au, so here is my contribution.

Professor Velaryon is well liked by most of the Hogwarts population, students, faculties, even house elves. The only one who falls out of this category is Professor Targaryen, potion master, consultant of the Duel Club and head of the Slytherin House, which is not all that surprising because Professor Targaryen just doesn’t like people, period.

Professor Velaryon, or Luke, as he insists to be called, was the star seeker of Dragonstone United. He has three championships under his belt before he retired at the young age of 26. He has been teaching flying lessons in Hogwarts for just over a year. Hufflepuff is thrilled to learn he will couch the quidditch house team for the coming school year. We have Lucy! Hufflepuff captain exclaimed, Let’s beat them losers. He was caught by Professor Targaryen while swearing, and 5 points were taken from Hufflepuff.

Professor Targaryen (he doesn’t accept to be called otherwise despite there are at least 3 Targaryens in school), or Aemond (only Luke is allowed to call him that), is the youngest house head in a century. He only has one eye due to a tragic incident in his final year at Hogwarts that no one is allowed to speak of. He is able to spot me sneaking chopped beetles into that Gryffindor’s cauldron with only one eye. Who knows what he is capable of with both eyes. Reported an anonymous source.

Hufflepuff and Slytherin are not nemesis, no, but Luke and Professor Targaryen seems to be. They sit at the opposite side of the faculty table at meal times. No one dares to engage them in one conversation. They either want to kill each other, or fuck, commented by a Ravenclaw in her fifth year, current chief editor in the most popular school magazine, the gossiper.

Lucerys strides to the quidditch field, broom in hand. He is a little nervous about his first coaching session, but a certain someone assures that he will be just fine. Hufflepuff has booked the field from 6 PM, so Lucerys is not surprised to see his team gathered around the field. What surprises him is that several Slytherin players are also there, cornering a dark-haired boy in Gryffindor uniform

“What happened?” Lucerys asks his team captain.

“Apparently that boy tried to spy on the Slytherin strategy. As if they have enough brain capacity to actually use strategy.” The captain replies.

The boy is a first year, and Lucerys knows him. God. He hates Slytherins sometimes.

“OK, gentlemen, break it off.” Lucerys inserts himself between the group, shielding the boy from the snarling Slytherins.

“Playing favor here, Professor Luke?” One of the Slytherin beaters, a bulky seventh year boy says sarcastically. “Maybe you should ask why he spied on us.”

“I didn’t spy on you!” The boy shouts. He tries to stand up to three teenagers despite his small size. He reminds Lucerys of his own younger brother Joffrey.

“Yeah, you keep saying that, Stark. Didn’t your muggle dad teach you how to be respectful?”

Rickon Stark looks like he’s about to pounce and rip that Slytherin’s face.

“Stand down, Rickon.” Lucerys says, but his gaze is on the Slytherins.

“Yes, stand down, mudblood.” The Slytherin beater sneers. His lackeys bark out a laugh.

Lucerys pinches his nose, trying hard to stay calm.

“You crossed a line here, gentleman. I won’t tolerant such behavior.” Lucerys says with incredible authority, “Come with me. Let’s see what your house head will say about this.”

The Slytherin boys noticeably flinch from Luke’s serious demeanor.

“And you, Mr. Stark, don’t think I didn’t see the broom you hide under the stand. First-years are not allowed to fly by their own. Put that broom back immediately before I write to your parents. Believe me, you don’t want to get a Howler two weeks in the new semester.”

“Sorry! It won’t happen again!” Rickon Stark pales and runs at top speed before retrieving said broom that no one noticed, “Please don’t write to Jace!”

 Aemond is about to finish the wolfsbane potion when the door to his personal dungeon opens. Lucerys matches in, followed by three Slytherin boys on the quidditch team.

“To what do I owe the honor, Professor Velaryon?” Aemond says, continuing to stir the cauldron. He’s the only one who calls Lucerys that.

“Your boys called someone mudblood today, Aemond.” Lucerys replies, throwing those boys a dark look.

Aemond’s hand pauses for a second before resuming stirring. The boys duck their heads, not dare to meet their house head’s eye.

“That is inappropriate, I reckon.” Aemond throws in finely grinded snake skin and give the potion a final stir.

“Inappropriate? It’s a serious offense!” Lucerys stomps to the work table, stopping just inches before Aemond. He leans in, ignoring the acrid smell that stings his eyes.

“Let me finish this, Lucerys.” Aemond doesn’t seem to mind the proximity, which is odd because Professor Targaryen is allergic to human being.

Lucerys wrinkles his nose, but says nothing. He doesn’t step back either. 10 minutes later, the potion finally turns to the right color.

“Well?”

Aemond lets out a small chuckle before pats Lucerys on the head. The Slytherins gasp as if they just witnessed hell. There is no way, no way at all, that Professor Targaryen is capable of that fond expression.

“You three will serve detention for two months. And you won’t be attending the house cup match this weekend.” Aemond says in his usual soft but menacing tone.

“But we have to- We need to defeat these Gryffindor scums! “

“And the match next week. One more word and you will be expelled from the team. Don’t test me.” Aemond begins to fill the vials with wolfsbane potion.

“Professor, we know you don’t understand quidditch but- “

Lucerys breaks out laughing. He laughs so hard that his stomach hurts. This is easily the most hilarious thing he hears so far. Aemond? Not understanding quidditch?

Aemond huffs while running a hand down Lucerys’s back.

“Oh, you Slytherins. If only you look at your house medals.” Lucerys finally manages to speak.

The three unfortunate boys do get a look at Slytherin house medal in the end as they spend all their detention time polishing said medal which reads, Aemond Targaryen, Most Valuable Player in House Cup. There are four of them.

[lollystocks]

To Blossom

Ectoberhaunt 2023 Day 2: Botanomancy (and a lil dash o technomancy)

Sam tends to her houseplants, her mother tries to connect, and Amity feels the effects of its rip in space-time. Words: 5,087 CW: minor injury, blood, self-injury, possession (mentioned), dissociation, mentions of a firearm

---

Her plants were getting grumpy. Again.

Not that Sam held it against them. As much as she had tried to make her dark, brood-perfect bedroom a comfortable home for the waifs and strays she had picked up from Amity Park’s nurseries and garden centers, (and perhaps a private garden or two), she only had so many hours in the day. The best temperature and humidity control money could buy helped of course, but between school, ghost fights, activism, and deliberately spending as little time as possible in her parents’ house…

Well. The grumpiness was understandable.

But Sam had found a rare, spare, afternoon with no obligations. Her homework was mostly up-to-date (she was refusing to do any of Lancer’s reading until the English department unbanned The Bluest Eye); the protest at Axiom was on pause until Tucker had okay’d her security plans; it was a Sunday so there were no new updates for The Grand Speadsheet; and she had already published two blog updates this week with the next one fully drafted. (“The True Amity Park Horror: A Miniature Surveillance State; or, The Bitches in Cheap Bleach Could Do With Being More Subtle When Spying On The Entire Town, part v”)

The irony of calling out the GIW’s spying operation was not lost on her.

And seeing as ghost attacks didn’t stick to a pre-circulated schedule, there was nothing to do on that front except keep the pager on loud, and get on with one’s day.

So, following an oh-so-wonderful lie-in, Sam was playing her favorite kind of politics: horticulture.

Following certain complaints, Sam had abandoned the concept of a general fertilizer and had bought a whole series - one each for tropicals, leafy, flowering, fruit, and cacti. The succulents would have to just put up with the latter. Windows thrown open, a torn up magazine protecting her dark hardwood flooring, a series of expensive and totally unused mason jars usurped from her mother’s kitchen, and a large jerry can of water sat at the ready, she set to work mixing up some please-just-fucking-grow juice for her many, many children.

Or she would have, had her pager not chosen that moment to scream at her from her window sill. A grating, 8-bit version of Ghostbusters (“the most frighteningly accurate depiction of ghosts in any move ever Sam, it’s iconic.”) that served as their “Fentonworks scanners have picked up a big ol’ signal somewhere, perhaps check it out gang” signal. Louder than the beeping was the profound sense of alarm from her plants. Or so she imagined.

Sam leaped up to silence it before it reminded her parents of her existence, knocking the jerry can over as she went. She ignored the chugging spill, slamming the “dismiss” button on the pager and then scrambling to find her phone among her copious bedsheets. By the time she extracted it, there was already a message:

Fanny Dampton: already on it, boxy’s throwing a tantrum at walmart

That would at least save them some time. Accessing the Fentonworks scan system to pinpoint a location always lost them a few minutes.

Sam typed with one hand, and started donning her boots with the other.

Man Sampson: Woodsborough Park or Elm Rd?

Fanny Dampton: elm

Fucker Toe-ly: moms got the car gonna take me a while to get there on dads bike

Man Sampson: I can swing round to get you, meet me at the end of your road, do NOT forget the extra thermos this time.

Fanny Dampton: i think i got it guys!

Fucker Toe-ly: bestie how are you typing and fighting

Fucker Toe-ly: i didnt forget it how dare

Fucker Toe-ly: i was giving it a premeditated and intentional vacation in my sock drawer

Fucker Toe-ly: she was tired

Fanny Dampton: i think i got it guys

Man Sampson: No that’s a good question, how are you typing and fighting?

Fanny Dampton: im not

Man Sampson: So when you say “you got it”??

Fanny Dampton: i ran off to GG and by the time i got back jazz had thermosed boxy. i ‘stole’ it from her so mom and dad couldn’t take boxy for testing. hid it in my leg, will get it out later.

Fucker Toe-ly: bestie im still not on bord with you using random body parts as storage it cant be good for a growing boy its also nasty as hell and also what about ectocontamination from the thermos

Man Sampson: I’m not sure Danny needs to worry about ectocontamination, Tuck.

Man Sampson: It’s also so on brand for you to be able to perfectly spell .“ectocontamination” but not “board”.

Fucker Toe-ly: what are we if not our brands? - francis bacon, probably

Fanny Dampton: look it’s all good guys, just need to focus on the hard part now - the family walmart shop

Fucker Toe-ly: god gives his hardest battles to his deadest soldiers

Fucker Toe-ly: what yall buying

Fanny Dampton: mom wants a gun

Man Sampson: Jesus Christ.

Fucker Toe-ly: aaaaaaaahahahahahahahah

Sam flopped back onto her bed, giving herself a minute - the come-down from “ghost attack mode” would take a sec, even though the problem had solved itself in rather nicely.

Sam nearly cried out when the handle of her bedroom door rattled.

A muffled voice forced its way through. “Sweetie? What have we said about locking your door?”

Sam sat up, slowly. Took a breath, and made her way over. “I said I’d stop re-installing the lock when you learn how knocking works.”

“Samantha Manson you wi-”

Her mother’s impending monologue on respect, rules and roofs was interrupted with a wide open door and a dead expression. “Yes, Mrs Manson?”

Her mom blinked, swallowing her previous tirade. It looked like it tasted sour. “Sweetie, I know it’s a joke, but your dad and I have asked you multiple times to drop the “Mrs and Mr Manson” thing. It’s-”

“A pointed nod to the irony of your formal standards of familial respect, yeah.”

“Samantha, can we please not do this?”

How rich. “Mom, it might help if you tried to actually-”

“-’understand why you do this rather than seek to use the blunt instrument of parental authority to control you’, or something, right?”

Sam blinked. Her mom could barely hide her smirk.

“We do listen.”

Sam kept her face blank and said nothing. Pointing out the obvious would do nothing but lead to yet another argument in a doorway, ripe for door-slamming and possibly injured fingers. These things always happened in doorways.

Breathe, Sam. Your silence will say enough. 

Her mom broke eye contact first, glancing into the room, eyes widening the slightest bit at the soaked magazine pages on the floor.

“Oh Samantha, you really need to take more care in here. The floorboards…”

“It’s just water, Mom, and the paper got most of it.” Her heart rate was ramping up again. Her hands were flailing. “It’s fine, and you know what, why would you assume I wasn’t being careful? Like why is carelessness and thoughtlessness your first thought? I’ve clearly set up precautions against filtered water you can literally see that, but you couldn’t consider that maybe it was you trying to barge in here that could have startled-”

“-I assume a lack of care because I know you Sam, I’m your mother, and as much as I love you even you must admit you’re prone to impulse, undue planning, you take your possessions for granted as you know your dad and I will simply replace them for you at the dro-”

“-What did you want, Mom?”

This time it was her mother who prolonged the silence, maintaining eye contact, breath firmly controlled. Sam made a note of it, but would sooner die than admit who she had learnt her most effective habits from.

“What I wanted, Samantha, was to invite you down to the garden to do some gardening. Together.”

Sam rolled her eyes.

“Why is that such a shock to you, Sam? I’m elated you’ve taken to botany so well. God knows I tried to get you into it as a girl, not that flowers or weeding held any sway over you. But now you’re entering a new phase of your womanhood, you’re developing a sense of aesthetic taste, domestic pride, a new sense of responsibility, shedding your teenage fascination with the gloomy and macabre-”

“Literally what gives you that impression? I’ve got 3 animal skulls right there on my shelf Mom-”

“-Well you’re not wearing that awful makeup-”

“-Because it’s a Sunday and I only woke up an hour ago! Don’t tell me we’re two minutes into our first interpersonal interaction of the weekend and ‘cause I’ve not put my eyeliner on yet you think I’m, what, I’m ‘shedding the goth’-”

“-You are developing more refined tastes Samantha and I don’t see why you would deny that!”

It was taking all her willpower not to scream. She felt that if she turned around now, every plant in the jungle of her room would be giving her a menacing thumbs up. Tear her a new one! 

“Oh my god Mom it’s just a bit witchier! Subcultures have fashion cycles too! Like yeah I’ve put my old band posters into storage and bought an oil painting at that auction we-”

Sam stopped. Breathed. Why did every conversion with her mom get so derailed?

Well because her mom found ways to sneak insults into every conversation, that’s why. Because she could do that. When Sam tried, it got her grounded.

It also tended to derail their conversations even further.

There were two ways to deal with Mom when she was like this. Way one, give her what she wants - a fight. Rise to the bait, throw some back, speak her truth, let the conversation switch between radically different topics at a whim.

Way two was de-escalation, and was far harder. It required a metric fucktonne of self-control, but mostly, just three ingredients.

Ingredient one: Stay On Track.

“Thanks for the offer Mom, but I’ll stick to my bedroom plants, thanks.”

“And while they’re looking lovely - besides that weeping fig of course - we are fortunate enough to have plenty of garden space, where plants can actually thrive. Are you unappreciative of that privilege?”

Ingredient Two: Don’t acknowledge insults that have nothing to do with the topic.

“I just want to focus on my bedroom, Mom. I don’t like the garden that much, you know that.” Not totally the truth - the greenhouse was pretty great. Mostly because it was firmly her territory. The perfect lawn and perfect flower beds were her mother’s.

Mom sighed, and set her shoulders. She was gearing up to say something. Something hurtful, no doubt. Sam braced, and prepared for Ingredient Three - when it gets really bad, disengage entirely. Shut the door. It wasn’t running.

Her mom said, “Well, we can do something about that. What would you change about the garden?”

Sam blinked.

And stalled.

“Samantha?” A nervous laugh. “Anyone in there?”

Sam frowned. “Um. Sorry?”

“You don’t like the garden. That’s a little hurtful as I put so much effort into it, and I think it’s rather beautiful, but I want you to like it too. So. What should we change?”

This was entirely new. Sam had no plan for this, whatever it was.

“Is it that it’s too “neat”? You’re “rewilding” attempts in the greenhouse are far from what I can deal with in the garden, and your father only convinced me to allow it was the greenhouse is mostly out of sight, but perhaps we-”

“Are you being serious?”, asked Sam. It wasn’t said with spite, or even incredulity. Just suspicion. Maybe even hope.

Her mom carefully folded her hands in front of her. She’d understood perfectly. “Dead serious, Sam. I- I want us to share something. We’ve never had something we could do together, except maybe swimming when you were little (but then you wanted to stop), and now that you have this wonderful new hobby, and it’s something I like too! So even if it means ceding some ground, if it means being able to spend some time with you that we both enjoy, even if it’s not really my company your enjoying but I get to see you enjoying yourself with me, then that woul-”

“It’s too much of a monoculture.” interrupted Sam, who had taken a small, defensive step back into her room.

“I’m sorry?”

“The lawn. It’s not just “too neat”, or “too perfect.” Like yeah I think it looks ugl- no, actually, it’s not that, it’s like it genuinely makes me uncomfortable. Those perfect lawn stripes are, they’re like this symbol of America but only in this really gross, plastic-and-fructose-syrup way, you know?”

Her Mom hesitated. She began to speak, but Sam barrelled onwards.

“And it’s not just how it looks, ‘cause like, turfgrass lawns are just such an issue. Like you have to put so much effort into keeping it up because it’s an invasive species and not meant to grow in the US so you have to keep it going with just so much fertilizer and even paint which runs off into rivers and causes eutrophication but then you also have to douse it in pesticide which kills of pollinators and you have to aggressively mow it with that massive fuel-guzzler-”

“Okay you hate my lawn, but you can’t ask me to lose the whole lawn!”

“Why not? We don’t use it for anything - you entertain on the patio, we don’t use it for games or even walking, it’s just there!”

“I won’t have our beautiful land just be mud-”

“Mom you asked for my opinion!”

Her mom blinked, and, for some reason, shut up.

“You can’t do that you can’t come to me with a sob story about bonding and ask me something point blank and get angry at my response without letting me finish the goddamn thought.”

Her mom opened her mouth, closed it, and gestured with her hand. Please, finish the goddamn thought. She folded her hands in front of her again.

Sam nodded. “Thank you. Look I can send you articles, there are alternatives, if you want to do that and if you want to take my mere suggestion seriously. Like, moss, or clover, or wildflowers. Or maybe even do something with all the space? You’ve got the planters crammed up against the patio. You could fill the space with more planters and have paths fill that space if you wanted to do something really cool. And make habitats for the pollinators. Like the botanical gardens.” 

Her mother’s eyes registered that. Their trip together for her thirteenth birthday had been her mom’s suggestion and she hadn’t given Sam much of a choice. Sam had reluctantly adored it all the same.

The small succulent from that trip had stayed on her desk ever since. Alone, until earlier that year. When it suddenly gained a whole host of siblings.

Time to disengage.

“Look Mom, I’ve got to finish this. Mopping up the water. I’ll send you those articles if you’d like, though.’

Her mom straightened, smiled with lots of teeth. “Of course, Samantha. I’ll read them.”

Sam nodded, and went to close her bedroom door. Her mom gently stopped her. “I’ll be in the garden, if you need me.”

A thin smile. “Sure thing, Mom.” She closed the door with a soft click.

Sam liked to imagine the plants were angry on her behalf. They’d seen the whole thing, and obviously they’d be on her side. 

Sam grabbed a dirty t-shirt from her laundry basket and set to mopping up the remaining water. As she worked, she counted all 38 plants her in room and noted their locations, light levels, water levels, obsessively-

God, she just couldn’t make her mom understand. That it wasn’t about looks and aesthetics and beauty, it was about the- the- the inherent sanctity of plant life, the codependent relationship between flora and fauna, the exchange of air and breath, the nutrient cycles, that her own

daughter you are mine the daughter of green the daughter of ultraviolet the queen of roots uncountable through the ground the city the planet

you are ruler you are monarch the flowers the leaves the vines these are your children these are your subjects these are your responsibility

you understand child you understand my daughter that humanity is infection is gnats is too-much-water is invasive grass it must be purged this pest

is yours to feed on to take their nutrients they are flies in the trap you will do my bidding my sweet greendaughter they will do yours you are chlorophyll you are ectoplasm shed your meat dissolve the juices of your flesh you-

…

Sam gasped and clutched her hand. She had somehow managed to find a sharp-enough pencil with which to stab her palm. She looked up, brain catching up to the fact that she had managed to drag herself to her desk, even amid the episode.

That was good. New, but good. Her body was able to act to pull her out, now. Even if she didn’t remember it.

Just another example of feeling eerily disconnected from her flesh body.

She fell into her office chair, and her head fell into her hands. She breathed. Always fucking breathing, like it’s a chore. Fucking oxygen. It never felt quite right, these days.

She needed to center herself. She knew the steps. Couldn’t remember the fucking steps. They were in the notes app on her phone. Where was her phone?

On the ground, by the jerry can and the mason jars and the magazine pages. Okay. Easy.

She sat up, walked, then half crawled to the same spot on the floor. Crossed her legs, sat upright, faced the desk, keeping the pencil in sight. Flexed her injured hand, and reached out for her phone.

She found the list quickly enough - she’d put the shortcut on her homepage.

5 See

Sam spoke aloud to the room. “I can see my phone; my desk; the window with the tree in full bloom. The raccoon skull on the windowsill. And the jerry can, it’s still got a bit of water in it.”

She shuddered a breath out. Unlocked her phone again and read the next line.

4 Touch

Sam closed her eyes and concentrated. “I feel the small stab wound from the pencil in my left hand. It fucking hurts. I feel that my right leg is a bit damp from sitting on the floor. It’s cold. I feel my boots on my feet, because I never took them off. I feel my pajamas on my skin.”

A longer breath in, and one out. She carried on, no longer needing the list.

“I hear the air conditioning, even though it’s not very hot. I hear the odd car on the road. I-”. Sam hesitated. How honest are you meant to be during these things? “I still hear the echoes of the voice. I hear words like ‘daughter’ and ‘queen’ and ‘flesh’ and ‘green’. But not with my actual ears. It’s a metaphor, kinda.”

“I can smell the lemongrass candle I’m burning. I can’t think of a second smell. Maybe my own body odor? I haven’t showered yet.”

“And I can taste my own ass-mouth, as I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

Sam sighed, and opened her eyes. A bird chirped from the tree. She furrowed her brows and stared.

“You couldn’t have done that earlier buddy? I had to admit I heard his voice instead, you tardy bastard.”

The bird probably didn’t laugh. But it sure sounded like it.

Before she could forget, she opened the Grand Spreadsheet on her phone, and went to the “SAM” tab. She logged the time, with the note “short episode. Mild self injury broke it, no memory of that bit.” and hit ENTER.

Five seconds later, her phone rang - the screen flashed the caller ID “circuits mcgee 🌱 🤓✌🏾🧑🏾‍💻🍑”

He started talking the moment she accepted. “Ohmygod Sam are you okay??”

“I’m calm enough to have filled in the spreadsheet so let’s say yeah.”

“FUCK. You were doing so well, it’s been weeks, thought we’d left ‘em behind for good. What’s the injury?”

“Stabbed my palm with a pencil. Not very hard, I don’t think? There’s a bit of blood but it stopped already.” Sam opened her hand to inspect the little puncture. A small spec of gray left by the pencil and some dried blood, and it stung to hell, but she had had far worse.

“Yeah but Sam, you know as well as I do that around here, an injury healing fast doesn’t necessarily mean ‘all is well’.”

He had a point, there. “You’re right, but I’m being honest actually, it really is tiny. I can send a pic if you want confirmation I’m not just bei-”

“Don’t you fucking dare send me a picture of your wound Samantha Manson.”

Sam let out an honest-to-god giggle.

The line beeped.

“That’s Danny, wanna-?”

“Yeah add him in.” said Sam, as the texture of the background noise changed with the opening of a new line.

“Oh my god, Sam are you okay?”

“She’s good man, sounds like a small one.”

“They’ve gone down in severity and frequency, I honestly think we’re coming to a close on that.”

Danny’s voice again. “I know you don’t like talking about it over the phone, want us to swing by for a debrief?”

“Honestly there isn’t much to it that isn’t what I’ve covered before. I’m his daughter-queen again, we love plants, we’re eco-fascists, yada yada.”

“It’s not the info that’s important Sam, it’s you saying it.”

Sam nodded, before remembering they couldn’t see her. “Good point. Even so, a full debrief feels unimportant. I can just…” Sam hesitated, then completed the thought. “I can just tell my plants.”

A short, but uncomfortable silence over the phone. She had hoped that comment would land better.

Tucker spoke first. “So no change on that front?”

Sam reached out a hand above the pothos hanging near her desk, and with a slender finger, beckoned it upwards. It rolled, like it was stretching itself awake, and a leafy vine reached up to her fingers. Curling around it, not dissimilar to a cat.

mother, she imagined it crooning.

Her thumb gently stroked a leaf. “No change on that front. If anything…”

“It’s getting stronger, isn't it.” asked Tucker.

Sam didn’t want to answer that. But Tucker’s correct conclusion was unnerving. “Was that a lucky guess, or…”

“...It might be the same for me.” He said, in a small voice.

“For fuck’s sake guys, there’s a tab on The Spreadsheet for this! Why is this the first I’m hearing that you’re both getting… more?”

“Well sorry Dr Fenton-”

“Don’t call me that-”

“-but what with updating it with all the spying I’ve been doing on half of fucking Caspar High-”

“Tucker tracking your symptoms is more important than tracking Dash’s-”

“Guysguysguys, let’s all pipe down, kay?”

The conversation went quiet, again. They all took a moment, planning their words.

Sam broke the silence. “I’ll go first, if that’s okay?”

Their noises of assent came through simultaneously.

“Okay so point one: Danny, you’re probably right about Tucker and I not being totally on it with documenting our developments.” Sam twirled around in her office chair, eyes darting about her room. “I can only speak for myself, but it’s mostly just that not much has changed? Or more that it’s changing gradually? Like I have an episode, I can log that. But ‘I think I’ve got a bit more control over my houseplants this week than last week, and a tree might have tried to talk to me yesterday’ feels like an unimportant update. I dunno. What about you, Tuck?”

There was an awkward silence. Some shuffling. Neither Sam nor Danny stepped in.

It was something of a habit amongst them. Thinking space didn’t always need to be filled with noise, especially when it was obviously someone’s turn to talk.

Eventually, “Ah man. It’s less that, more like, I guess you’d call it denial? Like… okay, skipping a bunch of keystrokes when hacking the GIW and using your brain instead is something I can probably brush under the carpet until I put it into words in The Spreadsheet which is either ironic or fitting I guess.”

That was new. Tucker had been developing… some sort of connection to his networks and cybernetics. At least enough to have rare insight into how those systems functioned, and sometimes being able to intuit novel solutions, or just know when something would bug. And one time, he may have granted his phone partial sentience. But a direct input into his code? New.

“Well that, and, agh. Right okay, full cards on the table. Sometimes, I go to put something about myself in The Spreadsheet, and I get this itching feeling. One high up in my chest that’s too deep to scratch. Not sure what to make of it, but I don’t like it. So I avoid triggering it, okay. Probably just anxiety.”

Another silence. Sam froze.

Danny asked, “A kinda itch that’s like, ‘stop that right there’?”

“Well yeah.”

Sam’s heart rate spiked, all the plants on her desk standing to attention. “Wait, you get that too?”

“Not you too, Sam.” came Danny’s voice. He sounded small, defeated.

“Okay this wasn’t me covering anything up, I’d just never like, consciously thought of it like that before?”

“Okay, you both get an itch that makes you not want to do something - in your case Tucker, it’s when you’re like, compromising your own security?”

“Yeah. Or like, my privacy, or data.”

“Sam?”

“Well it doesn’t come up very often? Can’t even think of a time, just that what Tucker said rings a bell?”

The sound from Danny’s line had changed. He must have found somewhere away from the shopping crowds.

“Okay. Tuck, what kind of feeling do you get when you, I dunno, patch in a new security protocol to The Spreadsheet?”

“Well I feel satisfied, obviously.”

“Yeah but is it a different kind of satisfaction to like, doing well on a test? Is it specific to when you’re hacking something?”

Sam could hear Tucker processing that. She had to process it too.

Tucker eventually managed an eloquent “Fuck.”

“Is it like, like a slight vibration? Feels like a warm cat purring on your chest?”

“Yes, Sam, that is exactly what Obsession feels like.”

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

“Well I guess we can stop speculating that the denizens of Amity Park are slowly developing ghostly traits, if Sam and I are developing Obsessions.”

Because that was the crux of the whole matter.

For the last year, the three of them had been doggedly tracking the changes in the population of their little town. People acting just a bit stranger, a bit more compulsive. Heart rates and breath rates decreasing. No obvious reactions to blatant ectocontamination in the cafeteria food.

Voices just a bit more distorted over the radio, or tv. Heaters turned down, AC turned up. Tucker had even set up a bot to analyze the blinking rate at Caspar High and some local offices to compare with similar places elsewhere in the state. Unsurprisingly, the citizens of Amity Park didn’t feel the need to blink as much.

Shrugging off the voices in the cornfields, the apparitions in the woods, the shivers down your back when you look at a cemetery sideways. These adjustments had come quickly to the population due to their sheer frequency - The Horrors only hold sway when they surprise you. But the blatant unease the town residents gave to outsiders wasn’t just shrugged off amongst themselves - it was firmly, blatantly, ignored.

“No but you guys are special cases, you both had prolonged, individual overshadowings by powerful ghosts and your obsessions are related to them. Most of the town have either been mass-influenced, or just had quick stints as meatsuits. Like we’ve known for a while something’s happening but it feels like it’s speeding up for some people - Paulina’s never been this concerned with being pretty, or Wes with being up in everyone’s business. Then there’s the school building itself which is a whole ‘nother-”

Sam cut in. “Okay okay, we definitely need a big meeting to talk this through. Today?”

“Probably not, I’ve got mom’s actual normal gun to deal with…”

“I found a weakness in our backdoor to the Mayor’s Office’s security and it’s got me paranoid, I gotta patch it before something happens…”

“Okay, tomorrow after school? Yours, Tuck?”

“Sure thing, I’ve got the car tomorrow too. I’ll pick you up on the way in, Sam.”

Sam scribbled the reminder on a note. “It’s a date, gang. I’ll try and put together like, a report, I guess.”

Danny said, “I’ll catch up with you guys on the school steps tomorrow. Stay sa- Mom Jesus Christ that’s not how you- guys seeyousoon.” and his line went dead.

“Talk soon, Sam!”

“Talk soon, Tucker.” She hit the red phone icon.

The pothos, without encouragement, had continued to climb into and around Sam’s hand, gently holding a leaf against the pencil wound. The rest was clamped tightly around her wrist and forearm. Too tightly. 

With the feeling of being watched, Sam turned her head, glancing around the rest of her bedroom. Every plant had shifted slightly, reaching for her, leaves and stalks fighting gravity to be closer to her. 

mother, she imagined, again.

She extracted her hand, and walked briskly to the door. She strode quickly down the bright hallway, and down the grand staircase, grabbing her father’s set of keys from the hallway bowl. Reaching the front door with the full intention to shut herself in the plantless, steel, diesel and chrome deathtrap that was her father’s car and just drive, she stopped with the door handle in her hand.

A slight tickle filled her chest. An itch.

She turned to look through to the kitchen, and could see her mother in the garden beyond. Her usual hairspray-hard hair had rare flyaways, and a streak of mud marred her perfect neutral makeup. She knelt by a flowerbed, a tray of poppy seedlings on a paving stone beside her. Babies that Sam didn’t know yet. Her mother gently teased aside the soil with her trowel, placing each seedling bundle with care.

Sam’s chest warmed as she watched her mother. It hummed. She let go of the door handle, set her shoulders, and went to join her mother in the garden.

[clownsalot]

ok so anyway double first impressions and observations!! idk if ill be repeating any points other people have already brought up since im typing this without having looked through the milgram tag. and this probably won't be all that organized despite my attempt of neatening it up but ah well. i tried grouping my observations by point at least, but they're not in an order that follows the sequence of the mv.

also id like to preface this that firstly a) i don't have any personal experience with DID whether it be in myself or with people i know so please be patient with me if i say something wrong and b) for now please assume im going with the 2koto theory? not because i dont believe in the trikoto theory but because i haven't really dug that deep into it and so id be bad at spotting evidence of it myself

also im mostly going off of what i see visually in the mv since i haven't gotten to analyzing the lyrics yet

for now im referring to host mikoto and alter mikoto as bokuto and orekoto respectively.

the rest of the post under the cut!!

1. magazine/print(?) texture

the first thing i took note of was the magazine/print(?)(there's definitely a better term for this because just saying 'paper' doesn't fit. someone please help) texture that shows up when the mv kind of fragments. there's a lot of text that shows up like printed letters on a newspaper/print(?) that floats around.

how i find this interesting is actually in contra:st to the magazine texture on cat and the magazine/scrapbook format of this is how to be in love with you:

whereas kazui and mahiru center more on the clean perfect 'advertising' feel of magazines, mikoto's texturing in double feels more like the kind of crinkled old magazines you rip and mess up for collages in primary school.

it's kind of interesting, actually: with kazui and mahiru, it's their portrayals of the idealized romanticized forms of love and romance they're being sold. so with mikoto, is it the shreds of the idealized 9-5 grind he's been sold? since it seems to be implied in double and also one of the shots in undercover that mikoto is pushing himself too far for the sake of his work, and it's well known that the work grind in japan is crushingly brutal and overtime is not only expected but actively encouraged (i may be reaching with this one though? i dunno man).

2. the eye imagery

the next thing i noticed was that double has a lot of eye imagery. it's really interesting because it's like it's carrying over the feeling of surveillance from MeMe by replacing the camera povs that feel like spying on mikoto with more straightforward eyes on him.

what else is interesting to me though is the way the eyes watching mikoto in double contrast with the eyes watching fuuta in backdraft. as far as i can tell mikoto and fuuta are the only ones in milgram with eye imagery? but there's a difference in that while fuuta's eyes are disturbing partly because of the fact that they're semirealistic, mikoto's in contrast are a lot more abstracted in comparison. i wonder what exactly the eyes in double are supposed ro represent, since fuuta's are meant to represent judgement. given the stylistic differences between them im really curious as to what the similarities and differences would be between how they both view being watched? i can't come up with anything concrete at the moment though.

3. across the train carriage

i think throughout double there's a kind of shot composition/framing that shows up a few times, and it's that orekoto and bokuto seem to be across the train carriage from each other.

in the first image, it looks like bokuto is being reflected in the window behind orekoto, meaning he'd have to be sitting across from him in the train carriage. in the second, an identical pair of hands are overlapping orekoto's image, and since i doubt there'd be a mirror cutting right through the middle of the carriage in front of the doors, it'd have to mean that they're mirroring each other's actions from across the train carriage.

(you'll have to forgive me for it being in still images, i wish i could get it in motion but i am. not a gif maker. it's at roughly 2:16 though for anyone who needs it)

it also shows up in this scene which i like a lot!!! where the camera starts from a mikoto leaning haggardly against the train door looking at something behind the camera, who im assuming to be bokuto, before it pans up towards the ceiling and down again to the mikoto holding onto the bloody bat, who im assuming to be orekoto.

the Across the Train Carriage framing is really really really cool in and of itself and i love it!! but that panning shot has me rolling it's so good and i love it so much. the way it pans back down to orekoto so he's upside down makes it so disorienting and difficult to process especially with the scribbly effects over it. this could be reflective of how bokuto feels about this whole thing himself, but i donthave much of an analysis for this point, i just wanted to point it out because i think the directing of it is really really really damn cool

4. phone call home

yea i don't have an analysis for this part either, i also just find this sequence of events really really cool. just—the calmness of the phone call over the flashes of orekoto violently 'taking care of' the things troubling them!!!! it's the juxtaposition of the mikoto who calmly tells his mom that everything is alright and he's fine vs the mikoto that takes care of things for him that allows that kind of calmness to exist in the first place. it tickles my brain

although there is the thing of: if people are right that the mv visually distinguishes between bokuto and orekoto through the presence of eyebags, it is a little odd that the mikoto on the phone also has eyebags, implying that the him on the phone is also not bokuto. and i don't know what that's supposed to signify, but it's a little interesting to think about.

5. glitching Next Station screens

it's interesting to note that as the mv progresses the screens that show the train route and what the next station is get glitchier and glitchier. do any of the train station names correspond with actual train stations on the japanese train system? do they mean something else? im really curious, but my japanese isn't great and consists of only the 2 duolingo units i did like years ago, so could anyone please give me a hand with translating or point me to someone who has already translated it?

the constant appearances of trains in both MeMe and double is really interesting to me and i wonder what exactly it could be representing or what the significance of it is, especially since mikoto apparently bikes to work and doesn't commute on public transport

anyways, that's about it for all the things i took note of upon watching double the first two times, and i haven't done any especially deep analysis or anything. i haven't touched on all the mannequins either, mostly because im not reslly sure what they're supposed to represent and so don't really have much to say about them.

also hanae natsuki delivers a banger vocal performance once again!! ive never heard him miss in any of the roles ive seen him in, but he once again knocks it out of the park with mikoto. i haven't listened to mikoto's t2 voice drama neoplasma yet, but im sure hanae natsuki did amazing work on that once again, so im really excited to give it a listen!!

as for now though, i think ill have to look at everyone else's analyses of double to understand mikoto better, since even though i love him as a character and i like doing analysis im not as great at theorizing

[nuka-nasty]

MacCready's Biggest Mistake

Part 1

MacCready was Nate's shadow - that much everyone knew. Where you see the one the other wasn't far. You'd think the Merc was the one clinging to the walking legend that is the general of the minute men and notorious 'vault dweller', but try to split them up and see what happens.

"Mac is with me. That is not up for debate." Nate's eyes, usually so kind and friendly, had steel and fire in them when Danse insisted he alone accompany Nate on the brotherhood mission. "If he isn't welcome then neither am I, Paladin."

It was Nate who - when push came to shove - bared his teeth possessively when someone tried to hire or take Mac from him. So for the past 6months whatever mission or job or wander Nate was one, and whoever he was doing it with or for, Mac had his back.

In Sanctuary Nate had taken two weeks to build homes for his companions with three sharing a living room. Piper, Curie, and Cait in one - Valentine, Danse, and Preston in another - Strong, Dogmeat, and Deacon in the last (Dee asked to room with them as neither slept indoors so the spy actually had the entire house to himself and his wardrobe). At the end of the street, however, stood a two story building with a workshop with displays downstairs, and a stairway up to a huge shared bedroom overlooking the valley, carefully designed with floor to ceiling glass windows high enough to not see into On the one end of the floor stood a comfy couch and armchairs with magazine stands, the corner had a desk and shelves with a scatter of mementos, Mac's ammo and pictures drawn by a child's hand, and Nate's Minutemem and Brotherhood holotapes and paperwork. In the centre a huge soft bed and one big chest of drawers. If you didn't know Mac you'd think this could be a commonwealth couple's dream home - but the Merc was as straight as a rifle.

That being said, their friends noted the way Nate would flinch and busy himself with his PipBoy whenever Mac flirted with Piper or Cait. They kept it to themselves but didn't miss the way Nate's eyes softened when Mac got excited over a new comic, a new gun, or letter from Duncan. Nate was smitten, but only his closest friends could tell and they respected the man too much to say anything. With all the pain he had lived through, if the Merc made him happy so be it.

Till it wasn't a secret anymore.

"No... Please, no!" Mac pleaded as he tried to staunch the bleeding. "Help is coming, Nate. You need to hold on!" Blood, so much of it. "FUCK! What is taking them so long!"

They were close enough to Sanctuary to see the the distant lights when not one but two Deathclaws jumped them. A mating pair. They'd put up a good fight, but their supplies were low, planning to restock at home.

Mac put a hole in the one beast's head when the other got a lucky swipe at his back. He cried out in pain and dropped his gun. The last thing he heard was Nate's desperate cry, distantly thinking he's never heard him like that. His best friend and he's never heard that rage and despair in his voice.

Then he felt the familiar sting and 'pissht' of a stimpack he knew was their last.

When he came to a few moments later once the stim did it's job knitting his back closed, he turned to see two downed Deathclaws, and a limp bloodied body between them. In the neck of one beast was Nate's modded shotgun, the blade of it's muzzle embedded in it's throat with enough force to break the stock.

Nate's PipBoy had been equipped with an emergency distress pulse that would alert Minutemen to their location. Mac activated it before he was even on his knees.

So here he was, pleading with every god he could think of to keep Nate alive till help arrived with stims and medical supplies. "C'mon Nate," he croaked through the tears choking him. "I need you. Don't leave me alone, please. Please!"

Nate's eyes fluttered open with a groan as Mac ripped off his scarf and pressed down on the hole in his stomach to staunch the bleeding. His hands, scarf, and the ground beneath his knees now the same shade of dark, wet red. "Hey.." Nate whispered, clearly trying to comfort Mac, and didn't that just make him start sobbing harder.

"Shh, don't speak. Just stay with me, okay? You need to promise you won't leave me!"

Nate gave a weak smile, a trickle of blood on his lips. "Wish I could... Stay forever.. but I think this is it for me, Bobby."

"No no no no, don't you call me that now!" Mac cried out, somewhere between anger and affection. "You only call me that when you want something or feel you need to comfort me! Now is not the time for either!"

Nate smiled, a laugh broke into a cough and more blood painted his lips. "Im sorry Mac. I'm...coward. Never even...got to tell you...how much I love you..."

Mac paused for a moment, his heart skipped and clenched painfully till the reminded himself where he is. "I love you too buddy, but you need to pull through so I can tease you about it okay?" He sniffled.

Nate was flagging. In the distance Mac could heard Preston and Cait calling. "WE'RE OVER HERE!! HURRY!!" He called. "They're here, Nate. You're gonna be okay."

Nate shook his head, eyes fluttering closed. "Love you, Mac... Wish...I told you.."

When Nate opened his eyes it wasn't to MacCready's beautiful blue ones, but to Curie sighing in relief and muttering something that sounded like a curse in French. "Monsieur Preston! He has awoken!"

Preston's face appeared above him with a rushed scuffle of footsteps. "General! You had us terrified there!"

"where-" was all he could croak.

"You're at the RedRocket. You were gone... But Curie managed to bring you back with a pulse of a Zeta gun and 5 stimpacks. So take it easy."

The first clear thought in Nate's mind was "Mac?"

"He's fine," Hancock responded and joined their little peanut gallery next to his bedroll. "Just shook up. I called him but he's outside pacing around. Sure he'll be happy to see you."

Against Curie's advice Nate slowly sat up and stumbled to his feet. He needed to see for himself - see that MacCready was whole and alive before he could really allow himself to breathe.

Hancock helped him limp outside where he insisted he could walk (stumble) on his own over to where he could see Mac leaning against the milk machine.

He really was alive. Nate smiled and limped to him, "you're okay." He said with such relief his eyes teared up.

But the look MacCready gave him instead left ice down his spined. Mac looked at him with an expression of fear, distrust, and disgust. Nate had only seen that expression one before when he stood before Barnes and Winlock. The night he put a bullet in their heads Mac had broke down and told Nate of the 'sick' things they made him do, how they used him for their own pleasure till he managed to escape.

(That was also the night Nate swore to himself he would never, ever make a move on MacCready.)

But here stood the Merc looking at Nate like he was one of those men who used and abused him. Nate had to take a moment to swallow down the irrational tears that now threatened for a different reason as he wracked his brain for why, what did he do!

"Bobby, what's wrong?" He took a cautious step forward but froze when Mac flinched and backed into the shadows a bit.

"Don't call me that."

His words triggered the memory. He called Mac Bobby, he was begging him to stay with him...and he told Mac he loved him.

"...I'm sorry." Was the only words Nate could get out.

MacCready tossed his cigarette to the grown and sneered. "Whatever." With that he walked into the darkness towards Sanctuary.

Nate felt like he couldn't breathe. Tears rolled silently down his cheeks, cooling on his neck where his pulse was hammering. A pain sharper than any he had ever felt - be it bullet, knife, or betrayal - laced through his chest with enough force that his legs gave out.

Of all people, Deacon appeared out of nowhere to catch him. The spy said nothing as he helped Nate to the dirt and held him as quiet sobs shook his broad shoulders. He quietly held him close, angling his head to his cries were muffled against his shirt. He then silently helped Nate to the nearest sleeping bag in one of the little shacks that lined the fence around the settlement, getting up to inform the others that their fearless leader was sleeping and to not bother him.

[toshiro-taichou]

A relaxing evening

Toshiro sat up straight in his seat and stretched his stiff arms, popping his bones. His hand moved his hair out of his face as his bright turquoise eyes glanced over the clock in his home office. 

6:00

“Is that the time already?” Toshiro thought. “You do tend to lose track of time when you’re working, master.” Hyorinmaru rumbles in his mind. Toshiro hummed and nodded, getting out of his seat, his knees cracking from being in his chair for hours. He adjusted his t-shirt and headed out of his home office.

Although he was the captain of the tenth division, Toshiro was stationed in the world of the living. Ever since Ichigo Kurosaki moved to the Seireitei to start his full Shinigami life, dangerous hollows began appearing when Karin and Yuzu grew older. Kyoraku decided for Toshiro to be stationed in the world of the living until further notice.

However, that was a planned situation to have Toshiro in the world of the living as Kyoraku found out about Toshiro’s crush on the black-haired Kurosaki. Toshiro was allowed to live in the world of the living, being with the woman he loves, as long as he keeps the human world safe. That was the deal and Toshiro continues to do so all the time. Toshiro does the paperwork side of things and goes to the Seireitei every month to report and check on the Division, Rangiku looks after the Division. 

When Rangiku found out Toshiro’s “secret” plan, she agreed to be more serious and responsible when looking after the tenth division. In her eyes, she truly believed Toshiro deserved to have happiness after suffering so much. Plus she has ALWAYS teased Toshiro about having a crush on Karin ever since she found Toshiro spying on Karin back during the Arrancar situation many years ago.

Toshiro walked into the homely living space and smiled warmly. His eyes lit up at the beautiful sight in front of him.

His step-son/bonus son, Ryunosuke Kurosaki, was sitting in the corner of the corner sofa, reading a manga magazine. Ryunosuke is a seventeen year old high school student. Ryunosuke is an introvert at heart, the complete opposite of a Kurosaki. He has black spiky hair, which looks messy around his face and covers one of his eyes. Ryunosuke has a rare eye condition, he has heterochromia eyes. He has one blue eye and one red eye. The red eye is constantly covered. He gets his eye colour from his father but Ryunosuke prefers to never hear a word about his biological father. The teenager has pale skin and is 5’11, or 181cm, in height. He has a slightly muscular build but not that much. He wears a dark red loose jumper and blue ripped jeans with a silver chain. The silver chain often holds his Quincy cross. His right hand is covered by a black fingerless glove and his left hand is wrapped by blue tape. He usually has black boots on but due to being inside, he is wearing white socks. He also usually wears a black face mask outside of his safe zone but as he is at home, his safe zone, he doesn’t need to wear it. Over his ears were some headphones which connected to his phone, he was listening to music as he read his manga magazine.

Toshiro’s eyes then wandered to the dining table where his first biological child, Kimoto Hitsugaya, sat and doing his homework. Kimoto is a twelve year old junior high school student. Kimoto is an extrovert type of child, he is what a Kurosaki is but with the Hitsugaya name. He has white spiky hair, which was currently messy and being pulled on, due to stress. His turquoise eyes narrowed at his homework sheet. Kimoto has sun-kissed skin due to him being outside a lot as he is an active child. Due to being a child, he has a slim and small structure and is 4’11 1/16, or 150cm, in height. He is currently wearing a dark blue hoodie with a black t-shirt underneath, black shorts and white socks. Usually he would have blue trainers on his feet but he was inside, he was hanging his blue slippers on his feet. Kimoto is often compared to his father due to his looks, but Kimoto wasn’t like Toshiro. While Toshiro is a genius, Kimoto is dyslexic and due to his dyslexia, Kimoto is struggling with his homework.

Toshiro’s eyes left Kimoto for a moment and went to the two girls sitting by the coffee table in front of the TV, drawing at the table.

These two girls are twins.

The first twin is Kurayami Hitsugaya. Kurayami is the oldest twin. She has black long hair which is a little wavy and bright turquoise eyes. Her skin is a more neutral white as Kurayami has days where she likes being outside and days where she likes being inside. Kurayami is a ball of sunshine, she is cheerful and very outgoing, she is also protective of her younger twin. She is more like Karin than she is Toshiro, not that Toshiro minded. Kurayami was wearing a dark purple short sleeved t-shirt with a light purple bunny on the front, the t-shirt had a small hood. On her bottom half she is wearing a light green skirt and dark green socks. If she was outside, she would be wearing a pair of dark purple trainers, but she was inside and wearing a pair of light purple slippers. 

The second twin is Yukihime Hitsugaya. Yukihime is the youngest twin. She has long white hair which is mostly straight and braided. She has bright turquoise eyes and her skin is a sun-kissed tone as she loves playing outside. However, unlike her twin she is not outgoing, Yukihime is the shy type and is often quiet, but when she’s with her family, she is very cheerful. Yukihime was wearing the same outfit as Kurayami but in different colours. She has a light green short sleeved t-shirt with a dark green bunny on the front, with a small hood. On her bottom half, she has a dark purple skirt and light purple socks. Like Kurayami, if she was outside, she would be wearing a pair of trainers but in light green, but she was inside and wearing a pair of dark green slippers.

The twins are both eight years old and they are both 4’2 ⅛, or 127.3 cm, in height. 

The youngest child of the family is Takashi Hitsugaya, who was currently watching cartoons on the TV while curled up to Ryunosuke while drinking a bottle of milk. Takashi has short spiky hair which has two different colours. The front part of his hair is black while the back part of his hair is white. He also has turquoise eyes. He has pale skin as he doesn't like going outside often. He is very quiet and grumpy to anyone who isn’t his favourite, he often changes favourites each day. Takashi is wearing a black jumper with black and white striped sleeves and on the front of the jumper is a panda face. On the hood of the jumper are two panda ears. He usually has black shorts on his legs but currently he was just in a diaper with a pair of white socks. Takashi is two years old and is 2’6, or 77cm, in height. 

Toshiro felt his heart melt at the sight of his children. He glanced at the kitchen where his wife, Karin, is. She was cooking dinner. Usually Toshiro would be cooking dinner but on weekends, Karin cooks dinner. 

Compared to how she used to look, Karin had changed so much over the years. She has grown into a beautiful woman. Her hair was long and tied up and her grey eyes have gotten brighter over the years since becoming a mother at sixteen. Karin has also developed a slight tan from being out in the sun all the time. She had grown up to be an Elementary P.E School teacher and soccer coach for 8-12 year olds. Her body has gotten more curvy and thick in some places due to giving birth to five children but Toshiro has never cared for it, he loves Karin for who she is, not what she looks like.

Toshiro looked back over at Kimoto, who was still struggling on his homework, and walked over to him. He sat across from Kimoto and read his son’s homework upside down. “Need help, Kimo?” Toshiro gently asked Kimoto, knowing how embarrassed Kimoto gets about his dyslexia.

“No.” Kimoto mumbled, clearly needing the help but refused to give in. Toshiro smiled lightly and just stayed seated, knowing Kimoto would soon give in. It was like it every week since Kimoto started Junior High School. As Toshiro waited, he took his Soul Pager out and contacted some people in the Seireitei. 

Karin hummed along to the music on the radio which was quietly playing in the kitchen section so she could cook. It was weekends like this that made Karin glad she chose the right man to be with. Compared to her ex-boyfriend, marrying Toshiro felt like a miracle due to how patient he is, even when she was raising Ryunosuke as a single parent when Ryunosuke was first born. Her adult life felt like a dream, a loving husband, five wonderful children, an amazing twin sister, caring nephews, a sweet niece, an idiot father and over the top friends. The only thing that made her know it wasn’t a dream was the fact her brother never contacted her, her sister or her father. However, Karin never focused on the past, she focused on the present.

“Dinner!” She called out, bringing the plates over to the table. 

“We’ll help!” Kurayami and Yukihime shot up from their positions on the floor, racing over to Karin to help her. 

“Finally.” Kimoto sighed in relief, happy to have a break from his confusing homework, which earnt an amused chuckle from Toshiro. 

“I’ll help you after dinner, Kimoto.” Toshiro smiled, taking Kimoto’s homework to set it on the side.

Ryunosuke took his headphones off and put his manga magazine down. He looked down at Takashi with a slight smile. “Ready to eat, Kashi?” 

Takashi lazily looked up at Ryunosuke, still sucking on his bottle, and nodded. Ryunosuke lifted Takashi up and brought him to the high chair and set him down.

Once the dinner was set down on the table, everyone was seated at the dining table, having a happy discussion. The twins were seated on Kimoto’s right, Toshiro was seated in front of Kimoto, Karin was next to Toshiro, Ryunosuke was seated beside Karin and on his left was Takashi on his high chair. Ryunosuke was keeping an eye on Takashi, making sure his food didn’t fall off the high chair or all over him. Toshiro was riling Kimoto up a little by teasing him, which caused Kimoto to scowl and shoot his words back at Toshiro. Karin was listening to the twins' stories of the drawings they were making. 

“Yeah! The knight is saving the prince from a mean monkey!” Kurayami stated, happily. Yukihime nodded in agreement. “Yeah, the knight is very powerful and has magic coming out of her eyes.”

“My. My. This knight sounds like a powerful lady.” Karin smiled. Yukihime nodded. “Yeah, this knight is a Fairy Queen.” Kurayami grinned widely. “And the Prince is a framed Criminal that the knight is looking to defend the Prince’s honour!”

“Kimoto, you don’t need to be embarrassed because of your Dyslexia.” Toshiro said. Kimoto scowled and blushed in embarrassment. “Shut up! You’re a genius, dad, how can I not be embarrassed?!” Toshiro sighed softly. 

“Kimoto, you have to understand that me being smart is not just because I’m a genius, but I am at least 100 years old. I have been through things and I was a captain of an investigation-focus division.” Toshiro said softly before smiling. “Plus, despite the fact you’re dyslexic, you are smart in your own way. Just think of your dyslexia as a powerful hollow, if you manage to overcome it by facing it head on, it won’t be as bothersome as before. Also, you should never be embarrassed for something out of your control, you are your own person. You’re not my clone.” 

Kimoto blushed even more from embarrassment and looked down at his food. “You sure my dyslexia is okay and not embarrassing for you?” Toshiro smiled warmly and patted his head. “You’re still my annoying kid no matter what difficulties you have.” “Oh shut up, old man!” Kimoto growled, making Toshiro laugh.

[ellavaday]

Hello this is late but real life has been kicking my ass, luckily it's a long weekend and after basically sleeping for 2 whole days I'm mostly back to life so that means finishing the dres2 ep2 ref post before ep3 comes out lol. There's quite a few puns this episode which means I'm back on translator duty

When they're getting back to the workroom and Chanel in confessionals says that Chuchi was too high and mighty she makes a pun with being 'too high in her platform (shoes)' which are synonym of Canarian drag.

Speaking of Chuchi I feel like the Canarian girlies have it incredibly hard in this show tbh. They are used to perform in what basically amounts to stadiums 3 times the size of any tv filming set and they have to travel by plane which means the huge things they use have to be scaled down not only for tv but for transportation constraints and their style adapted to a different format altogether which is hard to translate well (yes i resent the Javis for how they've judged Chuchi by comparing her to Sethlas and I am not at all sorry people have ripped them a new one on Spanish gay Twitter bc of that)

When Pakita is in the confessionals (while they're dedragging) the subs say 'let's go for it there's nothing to lose' she actually says leña al mono que es de goma (a bit more like 'lets put more wood on this fire')

When they're back in the workroom and Chuchi says she wants to say thank you to Maria Edilia, she says it in a (not particularly good) LatAm accent

Pinkchadora makes a few puns about Maria Edilia being amazing/a heavy hitter and her weight

It's a crime nobody has mentioned Pakita amongst the sexiest but I digress ofc Chanel and Kelly think the other one is cute lmao. In the confessionals Chanel says 'a mi me gusta dejarme llevar' (i like to go with the flow) 'pero Kelly no mete ficha' (meter ficha is to flirt/shoot ones shot/ but literally it'd mean to put a coin in a machine) 'es que es una tragaperras' (she's a slot machine, so she's basically calling Kelly a bit of a slut... And probably also calling her too much of a bottom for her)

I love how everyone sucks at geography lmao when Chanel gets her flag she says 'oh two strips!' and Supremme answers 'you could also call it two lines: it kinda plays a joke on how you'd say two strips [of cocaine].

When Supremme is explaining the maxi challenge (a dance battle to Spain's Eurovision song of last year) she says they're calling it instead of SloMo (the name of the song) Me Eslomo (I'm breaking my back) not 'in slow-motion' like the subtitles say, it's also a joke used in the Gran Hotel de Las Reinas when Paca La Piraña does her number and it's literally all. over. this. episode. Literally everyone says this pun so much. Why not translate it? (even if you can't rhythm it like in Spanish)

The Muertas Haris group name is a pun on Mata Hari (the Spy) but also bc Matar means to kill in Spanish ((irregular verb, being dead is estar muerto/a)) and like Vania says a reference to the Eurovision song of the same name

After Carmelo (the choreographer) tell Clover and Pakita they have to perform a dance solo Pakita says it's a big weight/pressure but that she's used to it. It's a joke about sex lol but not like a very "in your face" joke. Spanish humor is very slut shamey (specially towards women) and Pakita likes to do it too but gender swapped, she talks a lot about how she'd sleep with your dad but clearly she's not the slut in the joke, it's your dad. Yes. Yours. Specifically.

Pitita says her and her team are more magazine vedettes than lola indigo. Lola Indigo is a pop singer and I'm not entirely sure magazine vedette is used in English like it would in Spanish. A vedette is a female burlesque performer (in which a lot of Spanish drag has it's roots on and from which it borrows a lot of lingo to this day), a magazine vedette is more of a chorus girl.

When they're getting ready for the maxi challenge they talk about tener pluma. Pluma (lit. Feather) is how we call someone that is very visibly gay. I hate hate that they left it as a literal translation bc it doesn't make an ounce of sense of in English bc the closest equivalent would be being limp-wristed or effeminate, but in English those are things you are not things you have (Unless ofc you want to go with having an affectation)

When Supremme is introducing the judges. Supremme makes a reference to Algo Pequeñito, Un Bloody Mary por favor y Quédate Conmigo (spanish entries to Eurovision from different years). Ana makes a reference to Gwendolyn by Julio Iglesias (bc of her look). Calvo says Supremme looks like an After Eight.

The guest judge is Soraya, who represented Spain for Eurovision in 2009 (and spoilers the song used in the lipsync is the same song she sang for Eurovision)

When Pink Chadora is in confessionals talking about the sandwich she had on stage it's ofc not a literal translation but this girl talks at the speed of light so I can't even be mad. It's just the pun number 35 of lomo (ham) / eslomo (breaking my back) / SloMo of this episode

And that's it.

This has been said before online but this challenge seemed to be... Designed for failure in my opinion. Making two of them lead and have the rest as back up dancers and not giving them each a chance to shine means everyone is either complacent expecting the two leads to do most of the work (and cave under the pressure which is exactly what happened to Pakita, listen there aren't enough words to say how much I worried the second Pitita said Pakita was going to do a flamenco version of Eurovision Chanel jfc) or to try to overstage the others in a way that doesn't make much sense. Also why the hell were both teams on the stage at the same time?? Anyway. If you've read this thank you 😊 hopefully I won't take this long again for the episode that comes out tomorrow lol

[atlantis-archive]

Roll 'Em Out!

Written by: Deborah Barnes Published in: Disney Adventures Collector’s Issue! Atlantis: The Lost Empire Volume 11, Number 6 (pg.38-39). Publisher: Buena Vista Magazines Inc. Publication date: circa July 2001.

(continued from Dive!, continued in Welcome to Atlantis!)

[order of transcribed paragraphs]

Text:

Roll 'Em Out!

Take a Peek at the rip-roaring vehicles you'll need to discover a lost civilization.

The crew of the giant sub Ulysses takes along tons (literally!) of cool equipment to get them to Atlantis.

[1] Cookie's Chuck Wagon and Gertie Explorers don't get too far without something to eat. A tiny tractorlike vehicle called Gertie tows the Chuck Wagon, which holds all the cooking supplies. Gertie also serves as a generator to supply electricity for the wagon.

[2] The Spanner Need to cross a ravine fast? A truck called The Spanner can put up a temporary bridge. Just push a button to "unfold" the steel bridge from its bed. The bridge can stretch 100 feet and support two heavy trucks at the same time.

[3] Whitmore's Wing Pilots can fly this single-seat, ultralight plane even in tight places. The 13-foot-long aircraft is launched from a truck. When the mission is completed, it glides to a landing on skis. Sounds like it came right out of a spy movie!

[4] Wing Launcher How does the wing get airborne? The fast way: A special transport with a catapult in its bed launches the plane skyward with the push of a button.

[5] The Digger The Digger looks like a truck with a giant drill on the front. The drill's super-hard diamond tip makes it easy to burrow through rock and dirt, so you can get "down under" in no time.

[6] Move 'em out! The crew unloads the Ulysses' vehicles and machines.

[qnewsau]

Police search for man involved in homophobic Shepparton assault

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/police-search-for-man-involved-in-homophobic-shepparton-assault/

Police search for man involved in homophobic Shepparton assault

Victoria Police have released images of a man allegedly involved in a public toilet assault in Shepparton last month.

Investigators were informed a man was assaulted by another man while inside the toilet block in Shepparton.

The alleged assault took place at about 4:20 pm on 7th October on Tom Collins Drive.

The offender is described as being in his late fifties to early sixties.

Approximately 173cm tall, he has a stocky build, balding dark-coloured hair and a dark-coloured beard.

The alleged offender wore a ripped khaki-coloured shirt, blue jeans and a black backpack.

Investigators have released an image of a man they believe can assist with their enquiries.

The victim was transported to hospital with non-life-threatening injuries.

Supplied

“There’s a first for everything”

Assault victim Gruff said he was assaulted by a ‘nutter’ who yelled homophobic insults at him.

He went for a walk around the lake after picking up his car from a dealership and then used the facilities.

“There’s a first for everything,” Gruff said in a social media post.

“I noticed a guy loitering about 20m away when I entered.

“I was leaving when this guy slammed the door of his cubicle open and rushed at me.

“He started yelling homophobic insults, abusing me and accusing me of spying on him.

“I hadn’t spoken a word to him or looked at him until this point,” he said.

Defending himself as best he could, Gruff says he was caught completely by surprise.

“In a pool of blood on the ground, I said I’m calling the cops, and he left.”

 “I stumbled to my feet and walked outside. “

As the man walked away, he continued ranting and raving more homophobic slurs.

Gruff luckily suffered no major damage and thanked emergency services for their help.

“I’m lucky that he didn’t have a weapon or continue beating me more than he did whilst I was down.”

Police have asked that anyone with information is urged to contact Crime Stoppers.

They can be contacted on 1800 333 000 or online confidential report at www.crimestoppersvic.com.au.

Supplied

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.

[themovieblogonline]

Glen Powell Plays A Pretend Hit Man in "Hit Man"

ManAustin’s own Richard Linklater and Netflix screened his latest film, “Hit Man,” to a packed audience on Wednesday, May 15th at the Paramount Theater in downtown Austin. Glen Powell plays a pretend hitman in the movie. Before the showing of the comedy/film noir, lead and co-writer, Glen Powell, was inducted into the Texas Hall of Fame, established in 2001 by Linklater to honor those Texas natives who excel in the film world. Powell was born and educated in Austin, Texas. The film about the real-life pretend hitman was a delight. Hit Man will stream on Netflix after a June 7, 2024 theatrical release. It will be showing at the Alamo Drafthouse Chain in Austin; the 1 hour 55 minute film is well worth your time. It is based on a true story, but poetic license has admittedly been taken with the plot. There really was a Gary Johnson. Johnson was profiled by Skip Hollandsworth in “Texas Monthly” magazine. Johnson was a college professor and tech guy turned mole for the New Orleans police department.  Linklater, who knew the man during his life, described him as “the chillest dude ever.” The film was shot in New Orleans. Street signs with Piety/Pleasure in close-ups add subtle humor to the plot. THE PLOT The synopsis on IMDB describes the plot this way:  “A professor moonlighting as a hit man of sorts for his city police department descends into dangerous, dubious territory when he finds himself attracted to a woman who enlists his services.” I was reminded of “BlacKkKlansman,” where the real-life exploits of Ron Stallworth as a Black man who joined the Ku Klux Klan were explored. The difference in tone between the two films, however, is vast. That’s good news for the audience. This one is a screwball comedy/film noir with an original plot and excellent acting by Powell, co-star Adria Arjona (“Father of the Bride”), and Retta (“Good Girls”). Music, Cinematography, Costuming, Acting---all are uniformly excellent. The screenplay, co-written by Linklater and Powell, was hammered out during phone calls during Covid. It premiered at the Italian film festival in September, during the writers’ strike, meaning that Linklater appeared pretty much solo. Since the title character, Gary Johnson, is a college professor, we get uncharacteristic depth of thought about life and “the eternal mystery of human consciousness and behavior.” Powell’s character says, “I had a knack for being the person they needed me to be” of his hit man persona Ron he adopted and says, “I had somehow found my stage.” The talented (and good-looking) Powell, seen in the comedy “Anyone But You” as well as “Top Gun: Maverick” (2022), has been working towards a Hollywood career since age 14, when he appeared in “Spy Kids 3D: Game Over.” His remarks before the film reveal an Austin native who loves Texas and loves making movies. (“The most fun job on the planet.”) THE SCRIPT The screenwriting duo (Linklater and Powell) had a great time writing the script during Covid (mostly by phone). The cast contributed by improvising some of the best lines that stayed in the film. Co-star Sanjay Rao (Phil) said his favorite line (of Retta’s) that remained in the final film was her remark that she would “rip out my IUD for Ron,” the cool guy persona that Gary Johnson portrayed. (That line brought a big laugh from the crowd). It is not often that we get a philosophical discussion of the difference between cat people and dog people in a film about a pretend hit man. “Dogs are too needy. They’re like people. We beg for more…embarrass ourselves for the scraps of others.” Another line that amused me was the remark that a man sitting alone, reading Catcher in the Rye is “historically speaking never a good sign.” The depth of the discussion(s) of change and role-playing,  Id versus Ego, and morality is unusual for a comedy (about a pretend hitman) that we might be tempted to term “lightweight.” It IS lightweight, in the sense that the expert ensemble has turned a complex plot with a lot of frothy humor into an exploration of many deeper issues, one being change. A few lines to illustrate: “Your reality will change over time in ways that you cannot even imagine.” “Seize the identity you want for yourself. Life is short. You gotta’ live on your own terms.” And, in a line that is a throwback to Tom Cruise's line in Risky Business, “Sometimes, you just gotta’ make a move.” THE SEX SCENES Editor Sandra Adair (who visited Powell’s classroom when he was in high school), after editing one of the film’s truly hot sex scenes said, “I thought the screen was going to melt in the editing room!” The film’s 35-year-old leading man supposedly broke up with his model girlfriend in 2023. There are so well-done and believable sex scenes that it’s hard to select just one. There’s the dancing scene in a nightclub called Virgo. There’s the tub scene. There's the role play when Aria’s character, Madison “Maddy” Figueros, dresses up as a flight attendant to play seductress. The chemistry onscreen is hot, hot, hot. After the movie, during the Q&A, Adria Arjana said, “You have seen a lot of me tonight.” (Again, laughter). The IMDB website gives the release date as June 7th. It’s a very good movie. It’s original, and you’ll enjoy it on many levels. The cell phone scene alone is worth the price of admission. That scene is complex and operates on three different levels in this pretend hitman film. Don’t miss this Hit Man. And remember when discussing the plot’s resolution: “There are no absolutes, oral or epistemological, in life.”