#flickers

[wdr2-rlbmut]

Folks need a fair shake in the theatrical and cinematic arts. Do your part.

#strike #SAG-AFTRA #writers #actors #crew #Teamsters #money #$$$ #theatre #theater #film #flickers #cinema #movies

[rowkey]

Box turtle and yellow-shafted flicker!

These pins weren't finalized due to manufacturing errors, but I'm very proud of the designs themselves and wanted to share before the year is up. 😄 Perhaps more interesting to me is the turtle's design revision (2nd image here). Something was bugging me about it all these years, so I narrowed it down and tried to make it read as a box turtle proper. The beak was such a simple change, but I think it fixed so much!

Bonus absolute napkin-quality concepts included since the image formatting on tumbles was driving me batty, lol

#design #pin design #enamel pins #sketch to final #turtle #turtles #flickers #woodpeckers #woodpecker #flicker #box turtle #box turtles

[barking-blitz]

ᯓ★ intro

ᯓ★ hihi welcome to my personal/secondary blog. lots of different stuff will go here but mainly i will be posting about my nonhumanity, hyperfixations, and queer stuff here.

ᯓ★ name: static/marblehead/blitz

ᯓ★ pronouns: it/its, they/them, hy/hym, bark/barks

ᯓ★ age: 22 (104 in dog years)

ᯓ★ autistic + adhd, multigenic dissociative system, schizo-spectrum, among other mental illnesses, hypermobile ehlers danlos syndrome

ᯓ★ main queer stuff: labelhoarder, nonbinary/abinary, xenogender, neurogender, kingender, butchgender, aroacespec, butch mspec lesbian

ᯓ★ endel: shapeshifter/lycanthrope/werebeast, wolf/dog/hellhound, hyena/aardwolf, foxish

ᯓ★ otherkin: technology/robot, undead/zombie, wind spirit

ᯓ★ flicker: fairy/elf, ghost

ᯓ★ otherhearted: big cats, corvids, sharks, cuttlefish, harpy eagle

ᯓ★ @marbleheaded is my main and has my byf!

ᯓ★ @budgetbeastie is my spouse!!

#intro post #my post #nonhuman #alterhuman #otherkin #therian #endel #otherhearted #flickers #autistic #system #adhd #schizo-spectrum #heds #queer stuff #mogai #liom #nonbinary #abinary #xenogender #neurogender #kingender #butchgender #butch lesbian #mspec lesbian #labelhoarder #shapeshifterkin #shapeshifter endel #werebeastkin #aroacespec

[sitting-on-me-bum]

Archipelago by Lynn Via Flickr: One of the most photographed birds in last few weeks ..:D maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Serena%20Kadavu/30/162/22

#SecondLife #sl #firestorm #flicker #flickers #flicks #bird #boat #beach #WPD22Virtual #flickr #bird photography #nature

[inkfamy]

@puraiuddo Been struggling to work out what this scene wanted to be, but this prompt made it come together.

Coming up later on Saturated Sunlight...

---

Megatron’s lip curls in a sneer, and he catches Sunstreaker’s swing in one huge fist. The yellow warrior grunts as the Decepticon squeezes and the metal of his servo screeches.

“You were no match for me in the pits,” the grey mech hisses, swinging his cannon into Sunstreaker’s face with a resounding clang, “and you’re no match for me now.”

Sunstreaker snarls at the taunt, ignoring the pain and the flashing of warnings the strike flags up. With a roar, he twists his hand free and swings round to shove shoulder up under Megatron’s chest. It’s a move he could use to send most other mechs careening back, but against the fearsome warrior it’s like trying to lift a mountain. Quickly changing tactics, he uses his proximity instead to pound his other fist over and over into the Decepticon’s abdominal plating, driving to crush into something delicate.

Roaring with fury, Megatron’s elbow pounds down into the back of his neck, sending static bursting across the yellow warrior’s vision, but he grits his denta and punches again. A black hand shoves across his chest, and he senses Megatron is trying to push him back far enough to bring his fusion cannon around for a strike. The tinny stench of a charging weapon confirms it, and Sunstreaker knows he has to stay in close. Yelling wordlessly, he twists enough to push his own arm up, pulls back, gains purchase with a pede and already he’s throwing his whole weight back to pull the larger mech over -

There’s a deafening boom that feels like it rattles through his struts, and something flickers on the edge of his vision, a moment of blue, and then he feels smaller arms around his midsection and something strikes and pulls at him. It doesn’t matter that his processor is flickering from the noise or that for a second he doesn’t know which way is up, because his body knows what to do and he twists himself hard, crashing pedes then knees into the ground and wrenching down. Rather than successfully pull him away, Thundercracker tumbles, striking the ground and in Sunstreaker’s grip the seeker yelps, crashing between the warrior and Megatron.

As light as the seeker might be, though, he launches himself into Sunstreaker again, thrusters burning hot and pushing him just a little back. Sunstreaker braces, pounds a fist into the mech’s cockpit and feels glass crunch, but Thundercracker only needs to twist out from between the two warriors, holding Sunstreaker’s arm just long enough for Megatron to find the space he needs and fire.

The resounding crack doesn’t come until after the bullet hits Megatron squarely in his raised arm, and with a burst the Decepticon leader’s shot is sent careening wide. Sunstreaker is already twisting himself down - taking Thundercracker by surprise - and a second round strikes the seeker in the chest. With a screech, and spraying shattered glass, Thundercracker throws himself out of the fray and into the sky, transforming and careening off with another earth-shattering boom.

Red optics shining with murder, Megatron is already turning down to Sunstreaker again, and the grey warrior roars with rage when a second shot strikes him.

“Sunstreaker! Are you okay?” the deep voice of Optimus Prime sounds concerned, and blue and red flash over Sunstreaker as the Autobot leader careens into Megatron.

Even as the two huge mechs begin their fight, Megatron roars with fury, “Skywarp, take out the sniper!”

Overhead there’s a flicker of black and purple, and Sunstreaker’s spark drops as Skywarp shoots across the sky, guns flickering with fire even before he gets close to range on Bluestreak’s spot.

Prime and Megatron well and truly engaged, Sunstreaker throws himself up and around. His tyres blow up dust as he Transforms and races at full speed in the wake of the seeker. The mere thought of the seeker daring to approach Bluestreak fills his fuel tank with a searing fury, and he tears across the ground faster, faster, faster.

Not as fast as a seeker, though. Frantically he lines up a missile, unleashing it and cursing when Skywarp flickers out of existence and the missile flies through nothing. The black and purple seeker flickers back, over Bluestreak’s position now, then bounces in and out of reality as another crack of rifle fire rings out. 

Sunstreaker pushes his engine to the limit, pain racking through him as the strain burns against his senses. Five car lengths ahead Skywarp flickers again, and his time a shot rings out and clips his wing. He flickers again, three car lengths, reappears on the ground beside Bluestreak’s grey form, throws a wild punch, two car lengths, Bluestreak whips the butt of the rifle around, striking the Seeker across the face, one car length, Skywarp flickers again. Sunstreaker throws himself forward and out of alt mode, optics wide to see the tiny flicker as the seeker materialises again.

Skywarp appears again, not in melee range but metres up in the sky. But before his dark form solidifies, Bluestreak is dropping down to the ground on his back, rifle up and ready and squeezing the trigger.

Sunstreaker sails past, seeing Skywarp’s cockpit shatter as the shot takes him in the chest even as he materialises. The yellow speedster clangs into the ground, flipping to alt mode to absorb the shock and then back again to come up and move back in to swing.

Skywarp flickers again, Bluestreak rolls up, turning, aiming. Up close the rile’s boom rivals Thundercracker’s and even as Skywarp materialises and the shot clips his wing, Bluestreak brings the seeker crashing to earth with a split second follow up. 

Sunstreaker stumbles, taken momentarily by surprise but still filled with bloodlust. He takes a step towards the groaning form even as Bluestreak swings the rifle butt round like a staff. Skywarp yelps, then flickers. Sunstreaker looks for where the Decepticon will appear -

“He’s mine, Sunstreaker,” Bluestreak shouts back, turning as if he can sense the seeker and firing off another shot as Skywarp materialises metres to his right. 

Sunstreaker’s spark doesn’t listen, though, and he draws his blaster to aim round as Skywarp flickers again.

“I won’t let him -” he begins to promise I won’t let him hurt you, the vision of Bluestreak’s grief and fear stark in his memory.

Crack. Skywarp squeals as the shot blows a hole through his wing.

“I said he’s mine,” Bluestreak isn’t even looking at Sunstreaker as he flicks the rifle’s bolt action and throws himself down in a roll as Skywarp flickers again, raining gunfire down at the sniper. The soldier’s tone is sharp when he adds, “Don’t you trust me to fight?”

A moment of double vision, as Sunstreaker reconciles the trauma with the soldier. 

The capable warrior before him.

He flips back to alt mode, tyres screaming against the rock as he charges back to the frontline fray. 

On his comms, Bluestreak flickers an acknowledging ping.

#flickers #saturated sunlight #sunstreaker #bluestreak #my fic #prompt fill #maccadam #bro someone take the word off me this is why we read before posting

[patchodraws]

“But for now, you’re my miracle. And I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that whatever time we have left is time well spent.” the poster for my life is strange pricefield fic “Flickers” (spoilers for life is strange 1)! i really do recommend reading it because it’s maybe one of my favourite stories, fanfic and original, i’ve ever written and i’m extremely proud of it 🥰

#my art #patchodraws #life is strange #life is strange spoilers #life is strange art #life is strange fanart #pricefield #pricefield fanart #chloe price #chloe price fanart #max caulfield #max caulfield fanart #life is strange fanfic #pricefield fanfic #flickers

[skyfullofpods]

It's audio fiction Sunday! Here are my thoughts about some of the fiction podcasts I've listened to this week!

As the end-of-year burnout is starting to kick in, I'll be taking a break from these weekly posts until January. I'm hoping to publish a couple of other posts between now and then, exploring some of my experiences with audio fiction this year.

#moonbase theta out #lost terminal #sidequesting #within the wires #travelling light #the silt verses #chaika #flickers #stories from ylelmore #copperheart #forged bonds

[flickerspod]

Flickers Episode One – "Monday" is now available on all podcast platforms! Listen here: https://link.chtbl.com/flickerspod

–––––

Flickers is a limited-series horror fiction podcast about grief, isolation, & loss. It is intended for mature audiences.

#flickers #flickers pod #audiodrama #audio fiction #audio drama #fiction podcast #canadian artist

[azukilynn]

idiot-box

-

flickers from the other room

ghostly manifestations

or so i imagine them

ethereal travelers

ever graceful

lyrical

-

apparitions

lightly dancing

between thoughts

between memories

between shadow and light

-

the corners of my eyes twitch

but i've learned not to look

never to turn my head

better to be very still

hold my breath and listen

-

azuki lynn

#poetry #spilled ink #here and now #writerscreed #poem #idiot box #ghost #apparition #fanciful #shadow #light #flickers #imagination #dance #television #tv #free verse #azukilynn #poets on tumblr

[onlyhalfdemon]

the flickers that shape me

the only method i have to maintain a “stable” identity is to avoid literally everything i love, from books to music to movies and so on. even going to the zoo can potentially throw me off; i could come home feeling like the tiger i saw lounging in the sun that day. it sucks.

read a batman comic with joker as the primary villain? become joker for anywhere from a couple of hours to a few weeks.

binge on nine inch nails or some marilyn manson on my morning walk? i’ll feel like a demon for a while. not necessarily evil. just dark. i really don’t want to elaborate. it’s deeply personal.

read the bible? i turn into an angel, jewel-toned eyes all over my arms and hands and way too many wings and all.

god forbid i look too closely at the little fairy figurines around the house.

i’ve talked to my therapist about this. told him i keep changing. what i am and how i feel and what i like and the music and art i create keep changing. i don’t think he understood. he tried to reassure me that people do change. he brought up picasso. said picasso had his blue period. the more i tried to explain the more confused he looked and the more alone i felt.

i'm just tired. a tired monster who likes butterflies and goes to therapy once a week even though it doesn't help.

maybe i'm really a shapeshifter. maybe that's just something i have to accept. i don't know.

---

🍒 the monsterkin diaries 🍒

#alterhuman #kin #otherkin #therianthropy #therian #wolfkin #wolf therian #otherhearted #copinglinker #flickers #shapeshifter #personal #angelkin #demonkin #monsterkin #starkin #dragonkin #faekin #voidkin #dollkin #ghostkin #fictionkin

[circa-obsolete]

ca. 1926

#photoplay magazine #clara bow #silent film actress #1926 #silver screen starlet #flickers #old hollywood #glamour

[denimbex1986]

'The logical reason that Christopher Nolan’s new movie Oppenheimer does not depict the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki that were the fruit of title character J. Robert Oppenheimer’s secret operations at Los Alamos and elsewhere is that the movie sticks hard to its title character. A man who heard about the bombings on the radio just like everybody else in the United States did. Nolan’s movie gives the viewer the world through Oppenheimer’s eyes — while the movie does depart from the character’s perspective to move its frame story forward, it’s never directly about anything but the man and, more importantly, what he did.

For some this puts the movie at a disadvantage…but in terms of what? In terms of spectacle? If any filmmaker could get financing and summon the technical wherewithal to actually depict fiery carnage on a scale of Hiroshima’s, it’s certainly Nolan. And while the filmmaker himself hasn’t cited moral or ethical concerns when discussing his withholding of these sights from his movie, such issues are summoned and given a thorough albeit indirect airing out in two films by the French director Alain Resnais.

The first, and most obvious, is, well, Hiroshima, Mon Amour, Resnais’s first feature, directed after he made a decade’s worth of innovative non-fiction short films. The 1959 fiction film was written by Marguerite Duras, the groundbreaking French writer whose experimental fictions were rife with philosophical and intellectual challenges. The subject of Hiroshima, Mon Amour is of trauma, historical and personal.

The movie, in black and white and Academy aspect ratio, opens with a negative image of a plant growing, perhaps, as we’ll infer later, a mutated, irradiated one. Then we see naked limbs and flanks, components of a couple in embrace. Sand pours on to their bodies. Soon it starts to glow; is it sand, or a form or radioactive dust. A man’s voice says “You saw nothing in Hiroshima. Nothing.” 'A woman’s voice insists that she has seen Hiroshima. She’s been to its hospital: “The hospital in Hiroshima exists. How could I not have seen it?”

She describes, and the camera echoes with physical evidence, what she’s seen: The Hiroshima museum, with its “bouquets of bottle caps” — objects fused together in the nuclear fire of the explosion — and the hair that fell out of the heads of those who weren’t killed in the vicinity that day, and the photos of actual burn victims. But the man insists: you saw nothing. She says “The reconstructions were as authentic as possible. The films were as authentic as possible.” And again, Resnais shows simulations of the survivors of the blast (a couple of briskly moving tracking shots of fake burn victims), and then puts in actual documentary footage of people with missing eyes, twisted limbs, and more.

“As authentic as possible?” Exactly. What, in these circumstances, does authentic even mean? To what extent does the information we are being given correspond to the reality of what happened? Hiroshima, mon amour strongly suggests that such films, however “accurate” or “authentic” (two entirely different categories of course), have nothing really to do with direct experience of trauma. And that such documents are perhaps the akin to the graven images that Mosaic law prohibits, in that there is the possibility that we might elevate them in a vain attempt to transcend or ameliorate trauma.

“The illusion is so perfect that tourists weep. What else can tourists do,” the woman says near the end of an over ten-minute sequence on the question. “What else was there to weep over,” the man asks, and eventually the movie tells us. The woman (Emmanuelle Riva) is French, the man (Eiji Okada) is Japanese, and neither is named in the film. Not naming your characters was a thing in arty postmodern literature and film at this time (the same thing happens in Resnais’ next film, Last Year At Marienbad, another study of reality, memory, and what can be known, albeit a much more abstracted treatment), but here it’s crucial to the movie’s final point, delivered in its last lines. In any event, their love story began with a bar pickup in a post-war Hiroshima, where she, an actress, is playing a nurse in a fictional movie about the bombing’s aftermath. “It’s about peace,” she shrugs when the man meets her on the set. “Here in Hiroshima we don’t make fun of films about peace,” he says. A few extras pass them, carrying signs bearing enlarged photos of burn victims. The couple is obscured but are laughing when they’re revealed again.

This feels insane — how can we behave as we do, with images of such suffering being paraded before us? In part it’s because those images cannot make us know suffering.

The movie’s larger question outside its historical context has to do with the possibility of love, and what love can achieve for both individuals and humankind, if anything at all. While it may seem so at first, the movie doesn’t abandon Hiroshima to tell the story of the female character and her own personal World War II trauma; it tells that story to demonstrate what she carries, and to demonstrate that what we all carry is inextricably tied up with our ability to empathize, as far as it goes, and the film insists that it can only go so far.

Throughout the film, we distinguish between recreations, acted drama, and footage of real events, and unconsciously assess the weight of each form as we’re also processing the narrative of the love story.

“The whole world rejoiced. And you rejoiced with it,” the man says to the woman about the bombings that did, after all, put an end to World War II. This was the world’s shame, and not just the West’s shame — do you think that China and Korea were sorry to see Japan’s days as a military power come to an end? The scholar and historian Paul Fussell shocked America’s more guilt-ridden intellectuals with his early ‘80s essay “Thank God for the Atom Bomb.” From the point of view of a U.S. soldier who was spared having to fight in the Pacific Theater, the atrocity was indeed a godsend. (Believe it or not, the British blues rock band The Groundhogs actually beat Fussell to articulating that sentiment with its song “Thank Christ For The Bomb,” from the 1970 album of the same name.)

To see suffering on the Hiroshima scale meticulously recreated through performance and special effects — would this help us, decades on, to resolve any of these contradictions? The answer to the question, according to Duras and Resnais, is that had Nolan chosen to somehow “recreate” the bombing of Hiroshima, we, the viewers, would really see nothing. I think they’re right. In any event, Oppenheimer finally is about something altogether different: the reality that men of science, completely rational beings supposedly, have enabled mankind’s potential instantaneous extinction. This is indeed unprecedented.

If we want to continue to think about the ethics of re-creation and depiction, though, It’s useful to think about it relative to another 20th century calamity. If the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, while taking a staggering number of human lives, demonstrated the cataclysmic — indeed, apocalyptic — potential of nuclear weapons, the Holocaust, with its six million dead, demonstrated that the horror of man’s inhumanity to man is alas inexhaustible. In 1956, Resnais made Night and Fog, one of the first and most important Holocaust documentaries. The 32-minute film begins with color footage of death camps as they were 10 years or so after liberation — empty, overgrown with grass, still. Resnais’ camera dollies down a railroad track, following the path the trains packed with Jews marked for extermination did. Narrator Michel Bouquet says (the script is by Jean Cayrol, a poet): “we move slowly along…looking for what? Traces of corpses that fell out when the doors opened? Or of those herded at gunpoint to the camp’s gates amid barking dogs and glaring searchlights, the crematorium’s flames in the distance” — and here the camera gets to the very end of the tracks — “in a nocturnal spectacle the Nazis were so fond of.”

While the film uses horrific archival material, it also insists that in revealing the camps as they stand at the time of filming, “we can only show you the outer shell.” As, for instance, the fingernail scratches on the ceilings of the crematoria. The narration pauses to let the viewer consider how these came to be. The Nazis destroyed as much documentation on the death camps as they could once the war was lost and the Allies were on their way (and much documentation had been trashed even prior to that), but Night and Fog is also asking “How much do you need to see, anyway?” Because memory will recede. The gods of war are only pretending to be asleep. Looking at such images and relegating them to the past yields a comfort that is ultimately false. “We pretend to regain hope as the image recedes, as though we’ve been cured of that plague,” the narration states near the movie’s end. Resnais’ approach helps us understand why Claude Lanzmann included zero archival footage in his astonishing Holocaust film Shoah.

As for fictional treatments of the Holocaust, the genie of depiction got out of the bottle quite some time ago. For many, to orchestrate a simulation of such atrocities is itself an obscenity, although good luck convincing a Life Is Beautiful fan of this. Writing about Night and Fog in his 1995 book Flickers, the novelist and critic Gilbert Adair also turned his attention to Steven Spielberg’s 1993 Schindler’s List, and after saying the picture was “not at all the disgrace that one had every right to expect,” he nevertheless deemed it “a monstrosity.” After which he grimly mused on the performative recreation of death camp horrors: “[W]hat I see when I watch the film, what, hard as I try, I cannot prevent myself from seeing, is that cast being put through its paces on some foggy, nocturnal location, put through its paces by the boyishly handsome director himself in his snazzy windcheater, his red N.Y. Yankees baseball cap, his granny glasses and his beard. I see him blowing into his cupped hands and pointing a gloved finger as directors do. I see the bony, skeletal extras, in striped pajamas or else stark naked, laughing and joking and jostling one another (why not? It’s their right) while waiting for a new shot to be set up. I see the makeup artists…” and so on. Let us not allow Adair’s feverish projection (Spielberg doesn’t wear Yankees caps, for one thing) obscure his larger point: Some things, finally, just should not be acted out.

Did this notion inform Nolan’s decision? Maybe not as much as we’d like to think, given that the dramatic structure of the film doesn’t allow for an easy departure across the world to begin with. But in the end, incineration by nuclear blast is depicted as Oppenheimer’s nightmare vision of just one person. A Los Alamos worker played by Nolan’s own daughter, Flora. Who is a film student of college age, so chill.'

#Oppenheimer #Christopher Nolan #Los Alamos #Alain Resnais #Hiroshima #Marguerite Duras #Paul Fussell #“Thank God for the Atom Bomb” #Night and Fog #Shoah #Claude Lanzmann #Flickers #Steven Spielberg #Gilbert Adair #Schindler's List

[thekingk0ng]

#music #flickers #son lux #flickers son lux #Spotify

[van-goghs-smoking-skull]

"And with my opened mouth I join the singing light"

#Son Lux #Flickers #since sirens were a topic today

[ceelibeans]

Happy Dungeon Meshi Thursday :3

#chilchuck tims #chilchuck #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #stop motion #cutout animation #animation #tw flickering

[patchodraws]

the most memorable fanfic scene for me would be the ending of flickers, specifically the part where max thinks about how she could compile albums of chloe's smile. there's a finality hanging over the entire ending because of the entire premise of the story, but that moment felt like a respite from it, a hopefulness, and it also illustrates max's love for chloe so well. i remember it because it's EXACTLY when i started crying

aaaaaaa honestly that final scene in flickers was one of the first things i wrote, and i think i even remember telling you that the writing process for that fic was essentially just getting to the final line in more words, so i'm glad it had the desired impact !!!

the fact that max still kind of wants more time - thinks she has more time - to take more photos of chloe's smile is such a big part of the tragedy tbh, but i also think it nicely colours her acceptance of her impending death because it's one of the last things she does get to see. even if she can never take any more pictures of that smile, she gets to see it here and now, and she's already taken so many good photos of it

let's just hope chloe can bring it back after max passes on

Tell me the most memorable scene from a fanfic i wrote!

#ask away! #Flickers #my writing