#i think i fried my computer rendering these

[art-rica]

3d wallpapers for you ^_^

#sanrio fanart #pompompurin #kuromi #sanrio wallpaper #3d wallpaper #i think i fried my computer rendering these

[wallf1ower]

How the internet works - Part 2

Ok, so I lied in the last part (which you can read here). The internet isn’t actually JUST made of files. It’s also made of… computers!

See right there, behind Mr. Robot - that’s a server.

Of course, you can make a server on your laptop, too. It’s as easy as making a folder on your machine and calling it “Server”.

What a server literally is, is a bunch of computer memory that’s been set aside to hold all the files that make up a website. So you absolutely could host a server for your personal website on a regular laptop, just by setting some space aside in your computer’s memory to hold all your site’s files. But for larger websites, with more data/files to hold, you’ll need more memory than what your laptop has. That’s why large companies have specially dedicated server computers with beefed-up memory. And that’s what all those rows of giant beeping machines are in a company’s server room - just pages and pages of files, containing all the data the client needs to know to accurately render the site. Now you know, and the next time you watch Mr. Robot, you can feel ever-so-slightly more like you know what’s going on. :]

Ok, so to sum up so far: when you send the server a request to read and/or make changes to a website through the client, the server will then pull the relevant files from where it has stored them in its memory, and send them back to you.

So, let’s say I am browsing a particularly steamy Alpha/Alpha/Alpha/Omega mpreg fic on ao3 (hypothetically, of course). Now let’s say I am 36 chapters in (again, this is all hypothetical) and even though it’s past 2am and I have work tomorrow (THIS IS A HYPOTHETICAL SITUATION), I just need to know what happens next.

So, I send the server a request, saying: “hey server, please get me chapter 38.”

I guess the key question is: how does the server know where it keeps everything?

How does it find my exact files, chapter 38, instead of say, chapter 39, or even of another story altogether?

The answer to that is: with DNS!

DNS stands for Domain Name System. Basically, it’s a catalogue of file names.

The way memory is structured physically in a server is very similar to a Japanese apartment complex. Just hundreds of small, equally-sized and -shaped rooms, all stacked on top of each other in perfect order. Each apartment has its own address; its own unique set of letters and numbers that distinctly identify it from all other apartments - like 12B, or 14-304, or Unit 7. Each of these addresses follows a specific protocol, so that it can be identified by its order/position in the building. Otherwise, how would the Amazon delivery guy find your apartment??

Think of the server as an Amazon delivery guy, whose job is to send and receive packages. DNS is his catalogue of all the residents’ names, and their associated address. This way, when the server gets a request from the client asking for files from John Snow, the server can quickly check the DNS to find John’s address, so it can then get the files. And then John Snow (or google, or ao3, or whatever the website’s name is) can give the delivery guy an envelope (folder) containing all the relevant files to send back to the client, so that it can render them for you to see in your browser.

Once the server has received a request from the client, found the web page's address through DNS, and retrieved the relevant files from their location in memory, all that's left to do is send them back to the client!

Just like how the client talks to the server by sending an HTTP Request file, the server talks to the client by sending back an HTTP Response. An HTTP Response is a file that tells the client everything it needs to know about the files it's been sent, so that it can read and display them properly. Here's what that looks like:

HTTP/1.1 200 OK Date: Fri, 31 Mar 2023 02:47:18 GMT Content-Type: text/html; charset=UTF-8 Server: ao3 Content-Length: 190532 <!doctype html> [...] <title>Chapter 38 - Omega Gets mPregnated</title> [...] <html>

Now, just like what we did with the request file in part 1, let's break down this response file into its parts so we can understand it:

HTTP/1.1 200 OK

This first line is the status code.

You see, much like Amazon delivery, responding to HTTP requests is an imperfect process. All sorts of errors can crop up that prevent a server from sending back the right files. That’s why the server always starts its response with a status code, to indicate how things went on the server’s end. Different numbers indicate different results:

A status code in the 200 range indicates that the request was successful. Great!

A status code in the 300 range indicates that the request was redirected. So, let’s say you’re looking for Chapter 38 on ao3, but the author has decided to move the rest of the chapters to their personal website. When you request the files that are located at ao3/Chapter-38’s address in memory, the server will arrive at the address location, only to find a note on the door saying that Chapter 38 has moved from the ao3 wing to three floors up, to be with the rest of the personal websites. Since the new address is posted there for the server to see, it can simply redirect your request to the new address. So, you won’t end up at the same URL you requested, but you’ll still successfully get the same content. If a redirection happens, the server will send back a status code in the 300s to let you know that it redirected you to a different domain name than the one you typed into the search bar.

A status code in the 400 range indicates that the request failed due to an issue with the client or the client’s request. If there’s a typo in the link you searched for, or if you’re trying to view a page you don’t have authorization for, or if the link is hidden behind a paywall that you haven’t paid for, or if the link simply doesn’t exist at all, and other issues in this vein; you will receive a status code in the 400s to let you know.

A status code in the 500 range indicates that the request failed due to an issue with the server itself. Perhaps the elevator is broken, and you requested files from an address on the 100th floor. When the server is broken down or having its own issues that make it unable to fulfill your perfectly valid request, you will receive a status code in the 500s to let you know: it’s not your fault.

Now, those of you who are exceptionally curious might be wondering: why do status codes start in the 200 range? What about the 100 range?

Well to that I say: congratulations on being so clever, because you’re right - there are also status codes in the 100 range.

A status code in the 100 range is called an informational response. It indicates that the server is not finished responding yet; it’s just sending you an update.

I don’t know why, but I hardly see any information about 100 status codes in the resources I’ve been using for learning. I don’t know if this is because they’re less important, or just less common. Basically, there’s a lot I still don’t know, and 100 range status codes fall under that umbrella, which is why I mentioned them last. Good catch! ;]

Now, just like how all those information lines in the request file are called Request Headers, these lines in the response file:

Date: Fri, 31 Mar 2023 02:47:18 GMT Content-Type: text/html; charset=UTF-8 Server: ao3

Content-Length: 190532

are called Response Headers. Just like Request Headers tell the server about the files it’s received, Response Headers let the client know all the relevant information about the files’ formatting, so that the client will know about the files it’s received. This can include the size of the file in number of bytes, what types of files are being sent, the time the server completed the request, the name of the server the files were retrieved from, Cookie information, and more.

The client, and by extension you, can learn a lot about the structure of the website you’ve requested by looking at the response headers.

Then, underneath all the information about the response, is finally the response itself!

<!doctype html>

If you’ve done any programming for frontend development before, you may recognize this next line. It’s the line that lets your client/browser know, “hey man, that’s all the metadata for you - everything from here on out is HTML and needs to be rendered to the screen.”

Once your client reads this line, it knows that everything underneath is the actual content it requested; the HTML, CSS, JS, and database information that it needs in order to render the website you want to look at to your screen. And now that it has this, it can finally do just that - and the work is done! At least, until your next request to get the site page for Chapter 39…

And that’s how the internet works! :D

Next time, I’ll cover Cookies and other forms of user authentication! But first, I have to learn it myself… :]

#codeblr #computer science #cs studyblr

[acatwithstockings]

I think the Gomes 2 ending just killed my GPU .

Like since I saw the ending I kinda obsessed over it and watched it a bunch of times and started doing facial studies of the expressions and stuff and now my GPU is just fried. I didn't even stress it the last few months. That beast was rendering and computing long 3D animations and liquid/physics simulations like a champ for 3 years now. It practically was on vacation for now but suddenly it just fried itself after being used by me for feeding my angst obsession????

I mean I understand why it probably did it, if I wasn't such a sucker for angst and getting hit right in the feels I'd probably wanna do the same if somebody forced me to live through the same thing over and over again.

#good omens #good omens 2 #THIS IS A JOKE THE ENDING DID NOT FRIE MY GPU IT JUST HIT THE END OF IT'S LIFETIME. #and i can't afford a new one #so welp #now i am hit right in the feels tripple the time #forst the ending #then not being able to continue working on my stuff #and third not being able to buy a new gpu for quite some time

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Parallel Worlds are REAL!

[Future Foundation Chairpersons Office, 17:16pm]

Yes. It would be fine to come in for an inspection, but I implore you to bring security with you.

*Chihiro speaks to an important man over the phone.

Because I’m telling you right now, if anyone told you that the Future Foundation was the safest place right now, then you’d be wrong. We’re still dealing with Zetsubou and we’re understaffed.

...

Yes, yes, we’ve got temporary workers from the Kisaragi Foundation on site right now. They’ve been-

*FZZZT!*

...

...!

*Chihiro’s phone call with the inspector is cut off, as does every other device in his room.

What the-!?

*He starts trying to type and activate the machines, but to no avail. Everything’s gone dark.

Alter Ego!?

*Not even Alter Ego responds.

It can’t be...is it a...?

*BANG!*

CHIHIRO!

Mondo!

*Mondo suddenly bursts into the room.

Dude, are you alright!?

Y-Yes, I’m perfectly fine. What happened?

It’s a blackout. It happened just now, complete outta nowhere. Taka told me to come check up on you while he and your old man try an’ fix the problem.

Where are they? I might go ask dad if he needs help.

Aren’t you done yet!? The longer we’re dark, the longer Zetsubou have time to breach our security!

Hngh...

Well, we do have Sakura and Munakata looking for the source, but at this rate, the entire day will be wasted. 

Hey, knock it off! I’m a programmer, not an electrician! Dealing with blackouts isn’t exactly my specialty...

Ngh! Let me try it then!

Back off Taka. Stop bugging him.

Ah! Chairman!

*Chihiro and Mondo arrive.

Move over. Let me take a look at the system.

*With a remote laptop, Chihiro plugs into the system and starts to scan the network for any anomalies. Taichi sits beside him looking for things he might miss.

Ah! There!

Hm?

*Mondo, Bandai and Taka all lean in to look at the screen.

Wassup?

It looks like the database was fried. Possibly the result of an Electromagnetic Pulse of some kind.

You mean someone planted an EMP?

Is it even possible that Zetsubou have an EMP powerful enough to render the Foundation useless? Why wouldn’t they use it before!?

*The door to the security room opens again, and more people step inside.

Everyone, calm down. We have found the source of the problem.

Sakura!

*Sakura, alongside Munakata, steps back into the room. Munakata has a tight grip on someone.

Ack! Hey!

Munakata. Don’t be so rough with him.

My apologies. But after the scare he just put us all through, I don’t think he deserves the nice treatment.

*Munakata shoves Uchui forward.

Oof! Ngh...

*sigh* Where’s the fissure?

Huh? It’s...here...

Hm...

May I borrow your laptop for a second? Don’t worry, I won’t touch anything I’m not supposed to.

*Chihiro and Taichi scoot over, as Uchui starts to type into Chihiro’s computer. He then goes over to the wires, pulls them out of the system and then plugs them back in again. He goes back to the computer to type a few more things, and once he does.

*KCHHHRR!*

Ah!

The lights are back.

Does that mean the blackout’s been fixed?

It should be. I mean, that usually works.

How’d you know to do that Kamui?

Uchui.

Ah, shit, sorry.

No problem. This was my fault, so you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.

You mean YOU caused the blackout?

Not on purpose, believe me.

Munakata and I traced the blackout to Uchui’s lab. He was tinkering with a machine in his lab, and it accidently released an Electromagnetic Pulse.

You’re lucky it was an accident, or else I would’ve thrown you right down the high security cell with Komaeda.

...!

Munakata. I’m the one who makes that call, not you.

...My apologies, Mr Chihiro Fujisaki.

Yeah, but...as Sakura said, this isn’t the first time that a machine I’ve made has emitted this kind of pulse. However, said pulse is usually small enough that it only effects my lab.

So...I apologize for the scare. Really, I can’t begin to express how sorry I am.

Having such a stupid coincidence happen now of all times...

Hm...

Uchui. Do you think you could take me to your lab?

Huh!?

I’d like to see what you’ve been up to.

Wow...!

*Uchui takes Chihiro to his lab. When they arrive, Chihiro sees the machine that Uchui was experimenting on. It’s a small platform with two satellites or needles pointed at each other.

Are you saying that THIS little thing is what caused the blackout?

That it is. But of course, I’ve turned it off. I would give a demonstration, but...I don’t want to bring the system down again until I know it’s safe.

You’re not planning on taking this off my hands, are you?

No. Even though it caused us a minor setback, I don’t think anyone would know how to handle the machine better than you.

...Say, would you mind telling me how it works?

Huh? Y-You mean you’d be willing to listen to me?

Of course. I’m curious to know what it does.

...

A-Alright, well...it’s not often that people ASK me how my studies work.

To put it simply, I’m trying to develop a large-scale version of this device. If I do...

then there’s a chance that I might be able to discover how to travel to different universes!

R-Really?

It’s always been a topic that I’m interested in, but ever since Shuichi and the others showed up in our world, I KNOW it’s possible. I’ve been eternally curious about the world that they come from, so I’ve been searching for a way to go there myself. And maybe even beyond that!

Have you ever heard of the Large Hadron Collider?

Yes. To my knowledge, it’s the largest and most powerful particle accelerator in the world. 

Exactly. The LHC circulates beams of protons that travel in opposite directions, near the speed of light, and bashes them together. Hence the name “collider.”

And you’re trying to replicate that? Because you think it will give you the power to travel to other parallel universes, multiverses or alternate realities? 

Actually, in terms of quantum mechanics, though people tend to see parallel universes, multiverses and alternate realities as three names for the same thing...They’re actually three completely different things.

See, Shuichi, Kaede, Kaito and the other kids are from an alternate reality, because our timelines SHARE events. They’re just portrayed in a different way.

For example, your Killing Game still happened in their world, and you still existed there, but you weren’t a real person. Just a fictional character. That’s an alternate version of you, but it’s still you. It’s still Chihiro Fujisaki.

Picture this too. The power of infinity dictates that there’s a world out there, where Makoto Naegi wasn’t the hero who ended the first killing game, but YOU were. That’s an alternate reality where you survived, and became the Ultimate Hope of the Future Foundation instead of him. But it’s not like that’s a different you. It is STILL you.

That’s...really hard to imagine.

However, that’s the difference. In a parallel universe, you DON’T exist, because that world would have completely different life and history than ours.

*Uchui suddenly goes over to the side and grabs a whiteboard. He flips it over to show a diagram.

Oh, you had a diagram prepared?

I have this written down just in case I ever have to explain the science behind it to anyone...Not that I typically ever do.

Do...people not like hearing you talk about this?

Usually they get bored. My own family was always opposed to me discussing such a hypothetical form of science.

The only one who’s ever heard me out and taken a genuine interest in my ideas is...well, Kuripa.

And you I guess, assuming you’re not just humbling me.

Well, I’m amazed we didn’t talk sooner. I’ve always liked ideas like theoretical and hypotheticals. I’m always intrigued whenever I realize just how vast the universe and beyond is.

Anyway, I’m interrupting you. You were talking to me about alternate realities?

Ah, yes, well.

*Uchui gestures to his diagram.

The idea of alternate realities arises from the idea that deals with all the counterintuitive qualities of quantum mechanics. That idea is called the Many Worlds Theory...

*Uchui talks to Chihiro for another 10 to 20 minutes until he finally concludes his presentation.

S-So? How was that?

Amazing! Really!

A-Are you sure?

No, I’m serious! That was really interesting.

I do have just one question though. Let’s say that you really do develop a machine that allows you to travel to other worlds and realities?

What, might I ask, would you do?

I dunno. Rule over them as an evil intergalactic overlord or something?

Hahaha! Even I can tell you’re joking.

I only ask because...if you do find a way, does that mean that we can send those kids back to their own reality?

Possibly make sure that they never come back?

Why would I ever want to do that!?

Shuichi and the others are far happier here than they ever would be in their own world! Their Killing Game might have been fictional, but they said themselves that they signed up for it because they couldn’t deal with how pathetic their lives were and how trash their society was.

That place is it’s own special hell, and I would NEVER want them gone!

Uchui, calm down. I wasn’t asking that because I want to be rid of them! After what Shuichi did for the Foundation, he’d be lucky we ever let him go!

I was just thinking...should you succeed, do you maybe think that...

Maybe...you can get rid of Tsumugi Shirogane for good?

Oh...!

I see...you want a way to get rid of Tsumugi Shirogane, but you don’t want to kill her...That’s why you asked.

Sorry. I can’t believe I made such an assumption.

It’s fine. 

Um...Chihiro?

Ah. Yes dad?

Sorry. It’s just that...Taka really needed to speak with you...But you were so into the discussion that I didn’t want to-

A-Also, the governor who you were on the phone with is trying to call you back and-

No, no, it’s alright. It was rude of me to take up so much of the chairman’s time.

Right...I guess I’d better get back to work. This was a nice break though.

Thank you so much for the conversation, Uchui.

*Chihiro begins to leave.

...

M-Mr Fujisaki!

Yes?

...

I don’t know if it’s possible yet. But...

I can definitely try to find a way.

...Great. Catch you later then.

*Chihiro and Taichi leave.

...

...Ngh...

*Uchui goes over to the desk with his device, and reached into the drawer. After he makes sure that Chihiro and Taichi are out of eyeshot and earshot, he pulls out the TRUE cause of the blackout. A powerful, high-radius, yet tiny EMP that fits in his hand.

Why of all people that I have to betray does it have to be one of the few people who genuinely give a damn about me?

Well. It’s not like I told him any lies...Except for how the machine was what caused the blackout.

Still, that was too close a shave. I CLEARLY miscalculated how powerful the blast should be...But I guess you learn more from your failures than you do your successes.

*Uchui puts the EMP and the rest of his equipment back into the drawer.

...

Sending Shirogane back to the universe that she came from...Not a bad idea at all, Mr Fujisaki. I commend you for it.

And I meant what I said...when I said I would never want to send Shuichi and his friends back to their own world.

Especially not after the effort I went through to BRING them here in the first place...!

#danganronpa survivor #danganronpa #oc #danganronpa 1 #dr1 #danganronpa 3 #dr3 #danganronpa ultra despair girls #drae #uchui porosen #chihiro fujisaki #mondo owada #taichi fujisaki #kiyotaka ishimaru #daisaku bandai #kyosuke munakata #sakura ogami #into the ocean arc

[fattle-network]

Meddy sat at her desk in Jasmine's work computer, organizing the last few files she needed to before it was time for her to stop working. It was already late at night, and her operator had fallen asleep at the computer- so after she was done she would have the entire night to herself.

"Alright... Looks like that's the last bit of work..." Meddy says to herself before reaching beside her towards her cake stand for a snack, grabbing around blindly for a second as she double checked her work before looking over at the twin dessert trays after a second. "Hm... Wha-!?"

As she glances at where two medium sized cyber-cakes sat, she would see nothing but crumbs sitting in their place. "W-Wow... Did I really eat both of them...?" Meddy thinks to herself, not sure if she should he worried or impressed at this feat.

Before she could think anything of her act of gluttony, her train of thought would be interrupted by the sound of the PET receiving an email. "-Hm? Who could that be?" Meddy thinks to herself as goes to check what it says. "Ah, its from Elecwoman! Let's see...:

'Hey you! Since you're probably getting off work around now, you should try and make it to the net-restaurant outside the SciLab network so we can have dinner! Really look forword to seeing you, - Elecwoman'..." Meddy reads. "Dinner, huh?" she thinks as she pat her stomach, which had gotten a little softer as of late- her middle now sticking out about an inch and a half.

"I just ate... ... but... ...I guess it couldn't hurt... Worst case I'll only gain a pound..." she concludes before walking over to the portal at the end of the computer and connecting to the main net.

At the restaurant...

Meddy would slowly walk up to the restaurant, panting just a little from the walk. "Sheesh, I've really gotten out of shape since I've stopped netbattling..." she thinks to herself as she sees a tall, slender navi in black and yellow approach her.

"Hey you~!" Elecwoman would call out as Meddy approached the restaurant. "How've you been? You aren't working too hard, are you?" she asks curiously.

"I'm fine, thanks!" Meddy says happily before stopping next to Elecwoman and leaned on her shoulder so she could catch her breath. "Phew, I'd be a lot better once I got something to eat, though... I'm starving after that walk..." she admits as she blushed slightly.

"Then what are we doing out here? What kind of friend would I be if I just let you starve to deletion~" she teases, causing Meddy to blush.

"Heyyy, I'm serious!" the chubby navi whined, "The path here just keeps getting longer each time we visit and it's been really getting to me!" she complains as the two walked inside and sat down at a table,

"That sounds terrible, is anyone looking into it yet?" Elecwoman asks curiously, "Well I had one person investigate, but they said nothing was wrong. I might report it again though, it's that bad" Meddy states with a frown before picking up the menu and ordering three extra-large burgers with a side of fries and a medium chocolate shake. "... But for now, I can take my mind off that with a few of these~" she adds with a wide grin.

Elecwoman couldn't help but blush as she saw how much Meddy had ordered, "My, are you sure you'll be able to finish all that?" she asks curiously as Meddy would lift one of the burgers to her mouth and begin to dig in, nodding as she ate. Elecwoman couldn't help but grin as she watched Meddy quickly devour the first burger like it was nothing before taking a large sip from her drink, causing her stomach to begin to stick out an extra half-inch.

Elecwoman would be rendered speechless by this as she couldn't help but blush as she watched Meddy eat the second burger, causing her belly to round out more before she would exhale and lean back in her seat.

"Oof, I forgot how just how GOOD the food is here~! I could eat this all day~..." Meddy says happily as she gently rubbed her stomach to make room for more. Elecwoman would look over at Meddy for a second as she says this before opening her menu to order something while Meddy got started on eating her fries.

As she finished her fries and sat back in her seat to make more room though, she would spot two more burgers on the table to replace the ones she had just eaten. "Whoa, thanks for the seconds!" Meddy says sounding surprised as she quickly began to eat her original last burger, causing Elecwoman to smile widely,

"Oh it's nothing, you looked like you were still hungry so I figured I might as well treat you to something.. " Elecwoman says happily as she rested her head in her on the table, "Just make sure to enjoy it to the fullest~" she teases. Meddy would smile and grin as she pulled the new burgers towards her and began to quickly eat one before finishing it in a little under a minute.

As she finished her third burger, Meddy would waste no time when getting started on the second-to-last serving. Elecwoman watched intently as Meddy continued to indulge herself, sighing longingly before glancing down at her friend's stomach to find it had grown to the size of a basketball, which caused her to blush a little.

Meddy would sit back in her seat and sigh happily as she rubbed her stomach with a wide grin. "Oof, I don't think I've ever been this full before`..." she says before looking at her final burger with a mixed expression, "I'm not sure if I bring myself to eat that last one..." Meddy thinks to herself before looking at Elecwoman, who looked back at her with an encouraging look. "... But at the same time... ... ... I think if..."

"Say... Would you mind helping me with this last one?" Meddy asks curiously as she blushed a little bit, causing Elecwoman to tilt her head to the side in confusion. "Sure... What did you have in mind?" she asks curiously as the dark navi sat up straight in her seat before Meddy would push the plate with the last burger over to her friend before leaning forward herself, beginning to blush heavily as she did so,

"Could you uh, feed this one to me...?" Meddy asks sounding incredibly embarrassed as she eyes looked the other way, "I don't think I could finish the entire thing unless you er-... held me... to it..?" she offers slowly, unsure of her word choice as she turned a deep red, causing Elecwoman to turn a deep red as well. "Oh? What did you have in mind...?" she asks curiously.

As she asked this, Meddy would push the last plate towards Elecwoman before beginning to blush even more as she leaned forward in a comfortable position to where Elecwoman could reach her. Meddy take a breath before finding herself grinning a little, "Could you... Feed this last one to me? I'm too bloated to lean forward and get to it..." she asks as she turned a deep red,

"That last part is only half true, but..."

Elecwoman would turn a deep red as she heard this before looking down at Meddy's distended belly then back at her with a hesitant look, "Oh! I, um... Sure" she says after a second before picking up the last burger and leaning towards Meddy with it, raising it to her friend's mouth.

They both would blush as Meddy would slowly take a bite and chew thoroughly before swallowing before taking the next bite. Elecwoman would stay silent as she hand-fed her friend, not exactly sure what to say. Meddy would occasionally look up at her as she ate, blushing as she did so until she would eventually finish the burger, her stomach groaning a little as a result of having finished the greasy quintet. "Oof... Thanks for that..." Meddy groans as she leaned back into her seat, her stomach gurgling and groaning from her binge as she rubbed it gently in a circular motion on either side.

Elecwoman would turn a deep red as she took in the end result of the surprise seconds she had gotten for Meddy before slowly nodding, "... Yeah, anytime..." she says in awe before grinning a little "But wow... I'm surprised you were able to eat all that in one sitting..." Elecwoman remarks as she poked the front of Meddy's belly a couple of times, feeling how tight it had gotten and blushing,

"Now I just have to back to my PC like this on foot..." Meddy sighs as she turned to get up from her seat, causing Elecwoman to tilt her head to the side slightly. "What do you mean? Can't you just jack-out to your P.E.T like normal?" she asks curiously, wondering why Meddy wouldn't just do that given her size.

Meddy would blush a little as she was asked this before she would slowly pull herself up, holding her stomach in one hand as she did so. "Well... The last time I went overboard like this and tried jacking-out, I kinda... Got really, REALLY sick..." Meddy explains, beginning to look nauseous just recalling what happened.

"I see... I didn't know we could get motion sick..." Elecwoman nods as she got up to leave with her friend. Elecwoman would get up first and help Meddy to her feet before the purple navi would turn around to take what was left of her milkshake with her before the two would take their leave.

"Thanks again though for the food, we'll have to do this again sometime soon!" Meddy says happily as the two stepped outside, causing Elecwoman to laugh a little, "That sounds like a great idea!" she says happily before the two would stop and stand in front of the restaurant,

"Well anyways, I had a lot of fun!" Meddy says cheerfully as she continued to tend to her belly, "You'll have to let me know the next time you plan on buying me food, though. That way I can come with a bigger appetite!" she adds with a grin. Elecwoman blushes a little at this,

"A bigger appetite? No offense, but you look about ready to pop and you've only had seconds..." she comments, causing Meddy to turn a deep red.

"W-Well that's only because I had already ate before coming... When I got your message, I had kinda just finished eating something else..." Meddy admits as she turned a deep red, her stomach groaning just at the thought of how much it had processed in the past hour, "... Except I didn't think you'd end up treating me like that... So this happened..." she states before gently caressing her midsection.

Elecwoman couldn't help but smile and blush at this before taking half a step towards Meddy, "I see... In that case, how about you come by my PC?" she offers with a grin, "You can rest up there until you're able to jack-out!"

Meddy would look surprised at this before putting a hand on her stomach, "How far is it? I don't want to walk further than two pages..." she remarks, causing Elecwoman to smile warmly. "No worries, we can get there in five minutes! she states, causing Meddy to grin,

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go, I can feel myself wasting away just standing here!" Meddy teases, causing Elecwoman to nod and lead the way.

#female weight gain #weight gain #meddy #fanfic #battle network #mmbn #elecman

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: junhui x reader ⚬ word count: 8125 ⚬ warnings: none! ⚬ genres: secret relationship, some slice of life uni moments, FLUFF, very light angst, spice, roommates!wonhui.

✧✎ synopsis: you’re friends with junhui - but also, not really. it’s friends and a little bit more than that. it’s difficult keeping your relationship a secret, especially when you’ve never loved someone the way you love him.

✧✎ a/n: NOBODY MOVE! I WROTE A JUN BDAY FIC ;_; this is really just me projecting all my years of love onto a word doc. enjoy!!

It was midnight, and the apartment was dark, unmoving. No one had bothered to clean the blue cereal bowl left in the sink and there remained bread crumbs on the countertop from lunch. As you flicked through the strange glimpses of late-night television, yawning in an outrageous width, there was a hunger pang, accompanied by an immediate craving for some sort of sweet candy.

So, you did what seemed best: fit into your sneakers and a windbreaker and push open the door to Jun’s bedroom while he was curled up on his side watching his drama. Wonwoo would usually be occupying the adjacent bed, though he had stayed over at Joshua’s dorm to study for his next history summative. Yet he’d left his beat-up, decaying textbook on his pillow.

“Put on your slippers or something, we’re going to the convenience store.”

Jun didn’t say anything, rather he continued holding out his phone, the bedsheets pulled taunt to his nose. Looking at Jun’s desk that sat next to the door, you picked up the rubber band ball he’d been adding to since his twelfth-grade year and threw it at his shoulder.

“Ow!” He squeaked dramatically. His head then poked over his shoulder as he attempted to see where the ball rolled off to.

“Put on your slippers,” you reiterated, “I want strawberry tangs.”

Without much effort, Jun quickly gave up looking for the elastic ball and returned to watching his drama, establishing his comfort while somehow still persisting to ignore you. He was very much so a homebody, and if it weren’t for you guiding him out the apartment like a grandchild taking their elderly for an afternoon walk, then he might’ve never left his bedroom apart from his class schedule. Yet, you knew exactly how to persuade him, weaken his heart that was already soft and golden.

An immediate whine rumbled in his throat when you jumped on the bed, pulling at him until he finally rolled onto his back, at last pressing pause on his phone. You tossed a thigh over each side of his silhouette and gripped the boy’s wide shoulders, gazing unflinchingly past his black fringe and into those big, glistening eyes.

“Come with me to the store,” you weren’t sure if you were offering or demanding, “please?”

“I-Isn’t it a little late for that?” Jun stumbled through his laughter. “Why do you need me?”

It was a surface-level question really, but nonetheless, your heart still skipped a beat. In only a second or more the silence was bearing down too heavily and it felt like your heart was a book with all its pages out. Jun’s eyes were twinkling as he blinked up at you.

“Walking around alone at night? Hello? Do you have no concern for me?” Came your joking counter.

He tossed his head back, the black fringe bouncing from his lashes. His capitulating yelp of, “fine, fine, I’ll come” was satisfactory enough for you to remove yourself from the boy’s tiny waist, where you stepped on the floor and nearly sprained your ankle due to that dumb, elastic ball. At least you found it. While you returned the toy to his desk, Jun quickly threw a worn jean jacket over his black long sleeve and didn’t bother bending down to fix his sneakers, his heels jutting out the back.

At the convenience store, the only shoppers were you, Junhui, and this lady wearing a huge pair of sunglasses, though you figured she was far from the strangest of the midnight stragglers.

It was rather quiet, even with the fluorescent lights buzzing and the battery-powered fan keeping the cashier cool at the register. You grabbed the first package of strawberry tangs while Jun sorted through the other flavours very meticulously.

“What about blue raspberry?” He said. “You don’t want that?”

“I don’t know, I just really have a craving for strawberry.”

Jun detached a bright green package from the rack. “Sour apple? What about that?”

“Not tasty at all. Pass.”

He grabbed another package and quirked his eyebrow. “Sweet cherry? Come on. That sounds good.”

You lightly hit his arm with the strawberry candy, your laughter echoing over the shelves, “I just want strawberry! If you think the sweet cherry sounds good then you buy it!”

But Jun just shook the black fringe from his playful gaze, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Tangy zangys are the bottom tier of gummy candy. No way.”

“So shut up then.” The words were harsh, yet your smile was no more menacing than a butterfly.

Since it would be impossible for Jun to leave the store without stocking his snack collection, you shopped for longer than expected, filling a basket with spicy chips and hard candies and a few chocolate bars. Heading home down the nighttime street, beneath the moonlight, the infinite expanse of a blackness that felt like a cocoon, you had already ripped open your strawberry tangs while Jun tore the corner off a tiny pouch of bubblegum poprocks.

They crackled loudly on his tongue, in which he made sure to hover in close proximity to your ear, ensuring you could detect every small fizzle. Each time it warranted you to shove him away, muttering a cheap laugh about how it wasn’t required that he lean in so generously, though you couldn’t evade that one nervous thought ticking at the back of your head: you wanted to kiss him, wrap your palm around Jun’s neck and taste the electric bubblegum from his heart-shaped mouth.

“Aren’t you glad you came with me?” You asked, suckling the sugar off a red candy strip.

Jun swallowed his poprocks. “I guess you can word it like that.”

Standing at the living room fish tank, you opened the tab to the flake box and shook the food into the water, your pink guppy who you had so fittingly named, Princess Pebble, swimming toward the surface in order to nip at the flakes. Wonwoo observed you from his seat at the kitchen table, dragging his spoon through the remainder of his cereal, scooping out the last soggy pieces.

“I feel good about it,” Wonwoo hummed, referring to the history test he wrote yesterday, “I think I might’ve left out some information on the essay question.”

You closed the fish flakes and returned to the table, where you left your cup of tea.

“Eh, who cares,” you mumbled behind the rim, “you’re gonna get like a ninety-five anyways.”

The boy shrugged, pressing a fingertip to his glasses, moving them higher up his nose. He had always been diligent with his studying, though he often left the apartment to write notes at the library or a classmate’s dorm. It was difficult to accomplish much when Junhui would distract him, and rather than reading his textbook, Wonwoo would always end up playing computer games with the latter.

“Did you hear Jun come home last night?” You asked, gulping the rest of your tea.

Wonwoo set his bowl into the sink and filled it with water, smiling. It irked you somehow. You were only curious about whether or not he heard Jun return from his dance practice.

Joining him at the sink to clean your mug, you bumped his elbow. “What’s so cute over here?”

“Nothing,” he hummed dismissively, “I heard him crawl into bed, that’s pretty much it.”

“And that’s funny or something?”

“You ask about him quite frequently.” Wonwoo turned to you with a suspecting glance, one that made you subtly desire to dump a cup of water over his head. “You know that, right?”

The morning air was cool, yet your face felt immensely heated, almost prickling.

“I ask because we’re fri—”

“Friends. Yeah, yeah.” Wonwoo huffed, the omniscient smile creeping back toward his mouth, to which you could do nothing apart from gawk at your roommate despite his reiteration of a musing that wasn’t at all unfamiliar. “I’ve always loved you for your innate sense of comedy. It’s priceless.”

It’s what everyone assumed anyways. You and Jun fought tooth and nail to articulate your friendship, to paint with the colours that would lead everyone to believe it was true. Most often your explanations worked, yet there remained some who were particularly stubborn. Wonwoo was an evident case. But he was too close, too eagle-eyed, and he saw that you and Jun behaved in a manner completely beyond friendship. Despite the likewise feelings, something unbeknownst kept you apart.

“I know exactly what that means, idiot!” Echoed your shout as Wonwoo disappeared down the corridor, hoping to take refuge in his bedroom.

“I’m glad!” The depth of his voice reverberated into the kitchen, and you heard his door quickly shut.

No less than a few seconds later did Junhui reveal himself from around the corner, clean and freshened up after a steamy shower, one he desperately needed upon immediately passing out, sweat-soaked and exhausted in his bed the night before. Soonyoung definitely hadn’t taught their lesson with any degree of ease. Pretending you weren’t just quipping at Wonwoo, you smiled.

“Were you two fighting?” Jun asked, pulling out a frying pan from the cupboard. He usually whipped together an omelette for breakfast.

“No, not at all. We never fight, remember?”

Jun scoffed while opening the fridge, removing an egg carton and a plastic wrapping filled with vegetables. Still hungry, you started peeling open a tangerine from the fruit basket and stood next to him as he organized the produce onto a cutting board. Ever so faintly, you could smell the crisp scent to his aftershave. It was peculiar how a bit of foam could render your chest that cottony.

“In fact, when’s the last time you even remember an argument Wonwoo and I had?” You prodded.

“Two days ago,” Jun laughed, “when Wonwoo wanted to watch that exploration documentary on King Tut, but you changed the channel so you could finish the last season of Home Makeover.”

Pressing his rose lips together, Junhui casted you an innocent glance. “So there’s that.”

Separating a small slice of tangerine, you gently pushed the clove into the boy’s mouth. He smiled softly as he began to chew. With the gentle tang of citrus in the air, you set a hand on Jun’s shoulder and buried your face against his warm neck, whispering, “yeah, and it was definitely worth it.”

Quite frankly, neither you, Jun, Wonwoo, or Joshua were fairing optimally at the library. While Wonwoo sat on the opposite side of the table helping Joshua organize his economics presentation, you were neglecting your biology packet, instead choosing to sketch a tiny Princess Pebble in the paper’s upper corner. Jun had been tasked with reviewing his latest theatre script, yet he hadn’t even flicked through it. He was intrigued by one of the numerous mangas he’d saved to his phone.

“Take the last point off here,” Wonwoo said, peering over Joshua’s shoulder at his laptop, “there’s too much text, and this isn’t a major branch of your topic anyways.”

Joshua sighed as he made a few clicks on his keyboard. “Dude, I don’t think I can edit another word. This class is so boring.”

“Mr. Canning is just a boring professor,” Wonwoo sympathized, “it would be best if it were someone who weren’t so… dry. I guess is the right word.”

Slumping back in his chair, Joshua huffed, “he’s like a human chalk stick.”

Desperate to discuss something that wasn’t related to his lacklustre econ class, Joshua spared a glance at Jun’s unopened script. “Shouldn’t you be learning that?” He asked.

Jun didn’t look away from the phone in his lap. “I can’t do it here.”

“That means he’s going to open it for the first time at one in the morning, the day of his performance.” You chuckled, outlining the sketch of your guppy using Wonwoo’s pink gel pen.

Harshly, Jun’s hand smacked your knee under the table and you couldn’t help but laugh, garnering an over-the-shoulder glare from a student in the corner who’d been trying to focus on their colossal textbook. Wonwoo smiled at them apologetically while Joshua feigned as though he were typing something on his laptop. However, Jun’s hand didn’t leave your knee, and your laughter became an immediate drought, to which the sole thing you could feel was his palm creeping higher up your leg.

Attempting to be subtle, you turned your head slightly and looked at the boy with a bit of a warning expression, though Jun simply continued to scroll through his manga.

“I’m going to check the world history section,” Wonwoo announced, rising from the table, “anyone want to come with?”

Joshua pushed out his chair. “I’ll come just so I don’t have to stare at this shitty powerpoint.”

As soon as the boys walked beyond earshot, you pinched the edge of Jun’s ear. He finally tossed his phone onto the table, though he didn’t exactly appear compassionate, rather he was smirking, for he knew if you truly didn’t want his hand touching your leg then you would have bumped it away.

“You can’t do that.” Nonetheless, there surmounted a need to establish some insignificant boundary, one that neither of you were going to follow through. “Not when they’re so close.”

“But they didn’t see.” Jun replied, squeezing your inner thigh. “It shouldn’t matter.”

“It does. What if Joshua saw?” At that point, Wonwoo was fairly conditioned to your lingering fingertips, grazes and stares. He usually pretended not to notice them. However, Joshua was a risk.

Jun shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t you worry too much? I always touch your leg.”

That was the problem. People trying to convince other people that their relationship was wholly platonic didn’t linger in such an intimate way. They didn’t creep fingertips up the other’s inner thigh beneath a tablecloth, or possess a gaze that traced the other’s lips like a delectable piece of candy when they spoke. There shouldn’t be any whispers pressed quickly against the other’s ear when no one else was looking, or the dire urge to climb into the other’s lap when their legs were wide open.

Both of you were afraid. Neither of you wanted to break the question that would thrust your relationship into the light. You kept waiting for the right time, but it always seemed one step ahead.

The movie theatre was nearly empty as the longwinded credit screen continued rolling, the last few congregations throwing their soda cups and empty packages into the garbage on their way out. Still, the floor of practically every row had been scattered with butter popcorn or melted m&m’s, shiny chocolate wrappers left crinkled in the recliners like the employees were supposed to take them home as gifts. Wonwoo put his hands on the back of his head, examining the disastrous rows.

You sensed he was feeling rather lucky about not being scheduled that night. Jun forced himself from the recliner and picked up his cup of fruit punch, jammed with way too many ice cubes.

If no one else was going to comment, you might as well. “That wasn’t the worst.”

“Agreed.” Wonwoo said, pushing up his glasses. “The murderer’s ploy was difficult to follow at times. I started getting confused when he left his car in the woods.”

“What?” Jun gawked. “That’s when you got confused? I didn’t even know what was happening after the first half hour.” His eyes gleamed in astonishment.

“Same.” You admitted. “I guess you’ll have to explain in the car.”

Reaching into the cupholder, you pulled out the package of strawberry tangs with nothing but a tiny amount of the powder-like sugar left inside.

“Thank you for picking up your trash,” Wonwoo sighed, taking the lead down the stairway while the credit music still played, “I’d hate to be working tonight.”

The wide corridor was completely vacant by the time you exited the theatre. Ever so slightly you could hear the galactic sound effects from the arcade machines. That buttery scent of popcorn seemed to waft no matter where you stood in the cinema. Wonwoo announced that he was going to check the concession counter to see who was on cash, but assured he would meet you and Jun at the back exit. Jun hurriedly downed his fruit punch in a large gulp before you emerged into the night.

You were confined to the small overhang by the doorway, for a hard rain was pelting against the concrete and turned the night air considerably cooler. Not one of you had checked the forecast beforehand, and you would undoubtedly get drenched straight through to the flesh in your thin long-sleeve.

“How are we going to make it to the car?” You groaned.

Pulling up his hood, Jun only laughed. “Now is a good time to be able to teleport.” He then stuck out his hand for a moment, the raindrops hitting his palm.

“Does it feel like bullets?”

“No. It feels kind of nice actually.” He remarked.

Curious, you rolled up your sleeve and extended your arm into the downpour. Jun was right, it felt satisfactory as each of the brisk droplets splashed your skin. However, you prematurely discovered the rain wasn’t so appealing when Jun suddenly shoved you from beneath the overhang.

“Hey— what the hell?!” You squealed upon the immediate repercussions, the cold water already leaking through your top while Junhui slapped his thigh, cackling.

Wanting to erase that luminous grin of his, you attempted wrestling the lanky boy into the weather, but no more than a few harmless drops skimmed his shoulder. Yet, with another brute shove, Jun stumbled, feeling the silver needles of rain pour down from the night sky and swirl at his dampening sneakers. He was laughing as he grabbed your wrist, pulling you hard against his chest before you were even cognisant that an immense wetness was soaking through your every article.

You wished it had been indignance drumming in your heart rather than affection, because it was taking every single fibre of your being not to kiss him. As the droplets beaded down his skin, he was like a springtime flower caught in the morning dew, and when he carded back the wet, black hairs plastered to his forehead, you thought it was possible to fall into him and never feel that concrete scrape your knees. Gently, his hand touched the small of your wet back, his breaths deepening.

He urged you in tighter as his tongue ran along his bottom lip, tasting the rain.

You were shivering, frigid, though your blood was far too warm to let yourself take note. Instead, you moved your head closer, closer, Jun’s cold palm cupping your cheek and your eyes fluttering shut and your soft mouths just brushing together— until Wonwoo appeared from inside.

Instantly, you two pushed away from each other. With his eyes widening, Wonwoo stuttered.

“I-I’m… I’m going to pretend as best I can that something weird didn’t almost happen.” He stated, swallowing thickly. “Just… Why did you two have to get soaked? You’re sitting in my car, y’know!”

At last, you felt that icy shiver trickle down your spine.

“S-Sorry.” You hummed, teeth chattering.

“I guess it’s fine,” Wonwoo sighed, “I have some towels under the passenger’s seat.”

Not long after returning to the apartment, Wonwoo gathered his laptop and slipped into his pyjamas. He proceeded to flop onto the couch to edit his research paper, though it didn’t take much for his eyelids to start weighing down, his dense paragraphs blurring together on the screen. More often than not you would take advantage of Wonwoo’s midnight crashes in the living room.

After exchanging your damp, terribly cold clothes for a warm t-shirt and sweatpants, you found yourself cozied beneath Jun’s comforter for the umpteenth night. The boy’s head rested against the crook of your neck, where his slow breaths were cool to your skin, though they occasionally became heavier when your fingertips stroked at his smooth hair. He was much like a kitten who loved a thorough scratch behind the ears. You swore that he purred whenever you rubbed the right spot.

Holding out his phone, he’d been finishing an episode of his drama before bed. You tucked some of the black locks behind his ear, noting how much it’d grown over the months. Then your gaze wandered over every detail that shaped his face, as though he were a textured oil painting.

His eyes were always glimmering, seemingly innocent and curious, yet you knew just how much that earthly shade could darken when he fell into his professions. When Jun acted on stage, his gaze lost its untainted nature. It moulded into the role of the sinister characters he preferred playing. When he danced in blazing lights, those eyes were sharp enough to consume, to cut, almost like a razorblade.

But then you studied his lips, his heart-shaped cupid’s bow, the small constellation of moles that dotted his skin like kisses from past soulmates. You thought back to the mist and the rain, his hand resting against the small of your back, how close you were to tasting the flavourful, fruity mix of his drink. In fact, you wondered why you didn’t just kiss Junhui whenever you wanted. What was stopping you, in that moment, from turning his head toward you so that your lips could press to his?

Suddenly, the boy laughed at his phone screen, to which you felt the brassy reverberation erupt in his chest, his eyes glinting and his mouth stretched into a box-like smile. You pulled a few strands of hair from his forehead as he seemed to be glowing, his cheeks rosy.

Jun mewled in surprise when your fingers threaded rather tight through his black locks, feeling you tilt his head up until his gaze was burning into yours.

You didn’t hesitate. Leaning forward, you kissed him sweet and slow.

Jun’s eyes fluttered as the pressure warmed his mouth, a small whine getting caught in his throat upon the gentle sting of your hand tugging at his tresses, his scalp tingling. His phone sunk into the bedsheets, and instead he was gripping your t-shirt, moving his head with yours as the kiss deepened. He tasted like mint, and his small whines were silky.

How on earth could you have ever shied from kissing him when it felt so relieving? Nothing else held any significance to you apart from making his pretty lips shine.

However, you needed to catch your breath. Releasing the firm grasp on his hair, you detached your mouth from his, your chest rising and falling in great lengths. The boy’s eyes couldn’t be more glazed, his lips shimmering, flushed garnet and slightly swollen. Neither of you uttered a word. The blankets fell from Jun’s shoulders as he straddled your waist eagerly. Again, his mouth slotted with yours, and your hands slid up his caramel thighs, imprinting his flesh with the curve of your fingernails.

If you kept quiet enough, then perhaps Wonwoo would remain asleep until morning.

Standing amongst the crowd in the cramped performance hall, it was inevitable that you would get bumped around like a tiny, flying pinball. After rutting into Wonwoo’s shoulder for the third time, he seemed dauntingly close to losing his indolence and snapping, though he realized it wasn’t your fault that others were pushing toward the front of the stage and bit his tongue.  

It became tradition for Soonyoung and his students to rent the downtown performance hall and host a fundraiser. The event typically lasted a few hours, with a few short interludes where the dancers would retreat backstage to catch their breath. Being Jun’s roommate, you and Wonwoo were always granted access into the small dressing room, and though you never admitted it, you loved experiencing that small flash of pride whenever the moonstruck audience watched you slip away.

The next interlude was closing in. Despite the different dancers on stage, you really, truthfully, only watched Jun. Each time he captured the centre position, you couldn’t help but cup your hands around your mouth, being one of the first to cheer overtop the deafening music as he moved so fluidly, with poise. He was a completely different person when he performed. Somehow, his tender-hearted nature would peel back and he’d emerge a domineering beacon.

As soon as the stage ended, an uproar rippled from the audience and resonated deep in your ears, to which you couldn’t help but slightly bury your head against Wonwoo’s shoulder to muffle the cacophony. Nonetheless, you were clapping, smiling, staring fondly as Jun grabbed his collar and fluffed it out, welcoming a slight gust of humid air. His skin was dewy with sweat, and yet he glowed beautifully, even when he was breathing so heavily through his nose.

Soonyoung was speaking into his microphone, but you missed half his speech, and before you knew it you were being dragged by Wonwoo through the crowd toward the backstage entrance. The room was at least big enough to accommodate the dancers. Jun was in the corner, gulping down his water.

“Only three more songs,” Wonwoo smiled, “you guys really stepped the level up this year.”

It took a moment before Jun replied, the column of his neck glittering as he completely crushed the plastic bottle in his hands.

“Yeah,” he burst out, “I’m freaking dying.”

“It’s for a good cause at least.” Wonwoo reasoned, ignoring how you stepped on his foot.

After Jun rolled his eyes, he was staring at you.

The air grew much too thick, and you had to clear your throat. “S-Seriously, you’ve improved so much. I can’t believe it.”

“Thanks,” Jun replied, scratching his nape, “it’s nothing special, really.”

“Uh? Nothing special?” Wonwoo quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t Soonyoung say you’re one of the best in the class?”

When Jun innocently flitted his gaze toward a distant spot and pressed his lips together, Wonwoo merely huffed, announcing he was going to the lobby for a drink of water. You watched him wind between the busy dancers, either wiping down their sweat or fanning themselves, until he disappeared out the door. When you faced Jun again, you looped your fingers through the satin collar of his stage outfit and kissed him quickly, knowing everyone was too occupied to take note.

He squeaked, “what happened to being careful?”

“This is your fault.” You eagerly pinned it on him. “Try being less hot.”

“That’s horrible advice. And also not possible. Which makes it worse than horrible.”

You weren’t sure whether or not you wanted to feel his mouth again or whack the side of his head with his deflated water bottle. Opting for latter, you stole another kiss, though you tensed in surprise when Jun wrapped his arm around your waist to secure your body firm against his. Hastily, you pushed at his toned stomach, your heart drilling manically as you looked over your shoulder toward the dancers. It didn’t appear as though anyone had seen and you breathed out in relief.

Suddenly, Soonyoung poked his head through the doorway.

“Ten minutes!” He shouted before disappearing.

Jun was staring at you with the most ingenious twinkle.

“That was your fault.” He purred, tapping your thigh with his water bottle. “Try being less hot.”

You did feel a small sliver of guilt. After all, Wonwoo had been waiting back at the apartment for approximately an hour, twiddling his thumbs, wondering why you and Jun required so much goddamn time just to buy some hot fudge sundaes. The molten taste of the chocolate, the vanilla ice cream, cold and sweet, was completely stolen from your lips by the boy whose lap you were occupying. Wonwoo’s sundae sat on the dashboard, dripping slowly beneath the evening sunlight.

And yet, that infinitesimal sliver was plucked straight out when Jun latched onto a sensitive patch of your neck, softly digging in his teeth and swirling his tongue. Your fingers sheathed through the black hair and pulled up at the roots, knowing how much pleasure he took from the dull sting. Button by button, Jun started to simultaneously open your shirt, to which you questioned if this was really happening, if you were really going to sort of out the complications of intercourse in his car.

The device abandoned in the passenger’s seat buzzed. You already knew the name to the text. As Jun kissed his way down to your collarbone, licking and suckling, you reached for your phone, feeling it buzz again with another impatient text. The guilt from earlier began to resurface.

[ wonwoo | 7:49pm ] This is suspicious now. WHERE ARE YOU? >:(

[ wonwoo | 7:49pm ] Actually screw that. WHERE IS MY HOT FUDGE SUNDAE?

The screen blipped with yet another message.

[ wonwoo | 7:49pm ] I know you’re reading these… Answer me or I won’t feed Princess Pebble!!

“J-Jun,” you piped up, hearing his low, husky mumble while he continued to mark your collarbone, “I think we need to go home now.”

The boy splayed a few more open-mouthed kisses against the skin before peeking up at you, his eyes wide and glimmering, lips flushed a deep magenta. With half the buttons of your shirt hanging open and your heart blazing, you had to snip the venereal longing in its bud.

“What’s wrong?” Jun hummed, pushing his fingers through the loops on your jeans. “Who’s texting?”

“Wonwoo. He’s been waiting for almost an hour, and his sundae is gonna be a puddle at this rate.”

He blinked a bit cluelessly, though still in musing. “There’s no way to be quick about this, is there?”

Rebuttoning your shirt, you shook your head and laughed. “Let’s wait before we ruin the car. I’m sure there’ll be a better time in the future.”

Jun nodded in agreement and relaxed back into the seat, a ray of sunshine that bled golden slanting through the windshield. Somehow, Wonwoo’s sundae wasn’t a complete pool sitting in the plastic cup, but that didn’t negate the fact he was still going to start his theory on responsibility and trust the moment you stepped onto the welcome mat. As you finished clasping the last buttons, something had caught Jun’s eye out the window, for he immediately panicked and tightly gripped your waist.

“Oh my god, g-get off my lap,” he grunted, to which your head bumped against the ceiling during the hurried shuffle and your knee whacked the gearstick.

“Ow! Okay, I’m going! Jeez, could you not give me a warning?”

“No,” Jun remarked, looking quickly to the rear-view mirror to straighten out his hair, “it’s Jeonghan and Soonyoung. They just came out of the store.”

When you glanced out Jun’s window, you noted the duo making their way across the parking lot, some plastic bags filled with groceries hanging from Jeonghan’s hand while Soonyoung appeared to be texting someone. To both your dismay, Soonyoung immediately recognized Jun’s car. You watched as the blonde bumped Jeonghan’s shoulder, how they took a slight detour on their way over.

“We have to talk to them?” You whined. “Are you kidding? Lock your window.”

Jun’s brow pinched together. “How is that going to help? They already saw us so just relax.”

“You’re telling me to relax? You practically threw me off your la—”

“Shht,” Jun snapped as the two boys drew nearer, “just shhhhht okay?” And with an incredibly large gulp, he plastered a happy-go-lucky smile to his mouth and let the window slide open.

“Jun?” Soonyoung called, leaning down slightly to peer inside the vehicle. “What’re you doing out here, huh? Back from shoplifting?”

Jeonghan bent down too, grinning snidely. “You looked a little frazzled or something.”

“Me?” Jun pointed at himself. “No, I’m fine. Just – we have to leave. Wonwoo is waiting.”

“Wonwoo?” Jeonghan seemed excited. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Hey, tell him I’m still appreciative for writing my World History paper on the Persian Empire.”

You knew it was best to stay quiet, but you couldn’t help your slight choke. Wonwoo had come home one day saying that one of his classmates offered him seventy-five bucks if he’d write their history paper. He wasn’t going to oblige originally, but cracked after listening to his classmate type out their introduction in the library, that it was just so bad Wonwoo felt piteous and decided to pitch in.

Gaping at Jeonghan, you exclaimed, “that was you?”

“Yeah. I mean, I still dropped that class. And Wonwoo definitely thinks I’m a dumbass. But I didn’t have to do a spot of work, and now I’m getting smooth nineties in English. You just have to make up some shit and do a couple fancy indents and you’re set.”

Jeonghan paused, then leaned in a little further to look you up and down. “Y’know, I’ve never seen you before. How easily do you give out your numbe—”

“We really have to go,” Jun interrupted, already clicking the button to roll up the window, “see you at practice, Soonyoung. Bye Jeonghan!”

The two boys didn’t really have any other option apart from stepping back, allowing Jun to exit the parking space and turn onto the road. Not that it would help much, you turned on the air conditioning until it felt like the wind was pure ice, hoping that you’d be able to preserve Wonwoo’s melting fudge sundae. You made sure to text him on your whereabouts, that you were heading home, and churned up a white lie about how you ran into Jun’s friends who held a persistent conversation.

It wasn’t entirely false. And yet, Wonwoo still managed to see through it.

[ wonwoo | 7:54 pm ]: Just say you were making out.

[ wonwoo | 7:54 pm ]: Btw, I fed Princess Pebble.

[ wonwoo | 7:54 pm ]: I’m not a sinner. Unlike you guys.

Later that evening, after delivering Wonwoo his melted cup of chocolate ice cream, after Jun quickly threw some extra clothes into his backpack and ran to his late-night dance practice, you were standing at the fish tank with some new plants you bought for your guppy. As the bright lights of the tank reflected across your face, there was a strange feeling inside you. It seemed like turbulence, confusion, your heart experiencing one sentiment but your brain thinking another.

You hadn’t realized you were absently standing there until Wonwoo came into the dark living room, holding a crumpled tube of toothpaste and his toothbrush. Watching the pink fish swim in between her new seaweed arrangement, he asked you if there was an extra tube stored in your bedroom.

“Don’t think so. Text Jun and ask him to stop at the store when his practice ends.”

“I’ll do that…” Wonwoo sighed. “Hey, you know I already fed Princess Pebble?”

He accompanied you at the tank. For some reason, you refused to look at Wonwoo. You felt unusually vulnerable, like a fragile shell that could be cracked open even by the gentlest hands, and the more you thought into your emotions, the harder your heart started pounding.

“I-I know,” you smiled weakly, “but I got her some new plants today. I just put them in.”

Wonwoo could always tell when something was off-kilter. You almost hated how sharp his senses were, that he was able to detect with such accuracy how you were being eaten up inside. Softly, he touched your shoulder, urged you to turn toward him so he could see the honest colour in your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He frowned, pushing up the bridge of his glasses.

You felt terrified, but there was no sense in pretending.

“How do I tell Jun that I’m in love with him? That I don’t want us to be a secret anymore?”

It was a weighted question, and you knew that. But it was also the truth. As much as it could be invigorating to maintain a secret relationship, you were beginning to feel the brittle side effects that came with keeping such love behind closed doors. You didn’t want Jun to push you from his lap just because his friends might’ve seen you, nor did you want to keep an eye out for whether or not you should knock his hand off your thigh in public. The secrecy had been fun, but it wasn’t enough.

Scratching the blue collar of his shirt, Wonwoo appeared uncertain.

“I’m not sure, honestly. I just think you shouldn’t repress this. You need to be upfront.”

“How?” It sounded like a desperate plead. “I don’t know how, Wonwoo.”

“Stop overthinking it,” the boy advised, grabbing onto your shoulders and giving your frame a small, grounding shake, “you know Jun. You know he isn’t a rash person. You know if you tell him he’ll hear every word of it. It doesn’t take a genius to see you’re all he thinks about.”

Wonwoo  brushed at the side of your cheek with his thumb. “Don’t hurt yourself like this, okay? The next time you’re alone, just say how you feel. I promise it won’t be as bad as you’re hypothesizing.”

You inhaled a deep breath and nodded. Overthinking was a poison to you. It shouldn’t be that difficult to be honest, especially when you knew how attentive Jun was, the manner in which he always adapted himself to be of a comforting presence.

“Okay,” you attempted to draw together some confidence, “I’ll do that.”

“Good.” The boy grinned, still fiddling with his empty tube of toothpaste. “It really doesn’t bother me that you guys run around together. Just… please… never do anything weird in my bed.”

The next time you were alone with Jun, it was all but a desirable circumstance. Once you came home from work and heated up some leftover dinner in the microwave, you decided to feed Princess Pebble, though your jaw unhinged as you noticed something a little unorthodox about her tank: a pink blotch floating against the surface of the water. Immediately, the tears welted hot and stinging against your eyes. You had to use the small net to scoop your guppy out from the water.

Remarkably, Princess Pebble had lived a long life for a fish. You remembered walking with Jun to the pet store one summer afternoon, after you two finished your last day of eleventh grade and had just escaped a brutal chemistry exam. Rather than studying beforehand, you spent ample time researching different types of fish, and would often send Jun pictures asking him to choose which one he thought was cutest. Yet, at the end of it all, you chose a guppy with the prettiest pink scales.

“Don’t most people want a puppy? A kitten? And you choose a boring fish.”

Jun had teased, sounding awkward and a bit lisped through his braces.

Somehow, Princess Pebble had managed to live a five-year lifespan. Wonwoo told you most guppies live for two years, three years if the owner takes good care. Sitting at the kitchen table, you placed her body onto a piece of paper towel, the thick tears dripping down your cheeks while your sinuses grew wet and congested. You didn’t know if it was petulant to be your age, crying over a pet fish. In fact, you didn’t even possess the heart to rise from the table and discard her body.

It wasn’t much longer until Jun returned home after his theatre class, to which you heard his key rattling in the lock. Wonwoo was scheduled for a shift at the cinema, most likely handing out overpriced popcorn and chocolate and having to reject every person who asked for his number.

“Hey,” he called, shouldering off his backpack, “Wonwoo texted me. That weird thriller we were looking at is playing next week. We should—,”

Jun paused the moment he heard your runny sniffling. He didn’t realize that your fish was sitting on the paper towel until he took a few steps closer. You felt embarrassed Jun had to see you like this. If you were crying, it had always been over something with a little more gravity, like the time you were distraught about flunking your laboratory practical, and Wonwoo couldn’t persuade you to open your bedroom door no matter how frequently he stood outside, pleading.

Plucking at the collar of your shirt, you used the fabric to clear away the tears. Without a word, Jun grabbed another chair from the dining table and pulled it next to you, scooting in close. As soon as you felt his arm drape around your shoulders, it was like someone had pulled the plug on a bathtub filled with water, to which you pressed your face against his neck and sobbed harder.

“I’m so sorry.” Jun whispered, hugging you tight to his comfortable chest. “It’s okay to be upset. I know how much she meant to you.”

He drew soothing strokes down the back of your head, and he sat with you until those wet pearls ran dry with salt. You knew it wasn’t wise to keep her body out in the air, that you would have to discard her somehow, yet the thought of having to flush her away seemed too cruel. Jun wiped the soft glisten from your cheeks with his sleeve, his fingers then tracing up and down the side of your face.

“I-I don’t want to flush her.” You blubbered.

The boy shook his head. “We won’t do that. We’ll find a good way to handle it.” His thumb brushed tenderly below the fragile skin of your eye for a moment, and he seemed to be in musing.

“Wait here.” He announced, suddenly running into his bedroom.

You could hear Jun shuffling through his closet, moving around clothing hangers and pushing aside boxes still filled with some of his old belongings from homelife in Shenzhen. When he remerged into the living room, he was holding a particular tissue box, one that you hadn’t seen since twelfth grade biology. You, Jun, and Wonwoo had painted and decorated the box as part of an optional project, to see if you could grow any plants from the packets of radish and tomato seeds your teacher had.

Nothing ever grew. Wonwoo claimed there had been some green sprouts when it was his turn to look after the makeshift garden, but that his cat snuck into his room and ate them all. Jun always kept a multitude of random things that dated back to your adolescence. As awkward and bumpy as those times were, seeing the tissue box reminded you that there had been precious moments too.

“Why do you still have that?” You laughed, even if your chest was aching.

“Because that was the first time us three did something together.” Jun said, returning to his seat beside you. “It was one of the first memories I made after moving away from home.”

You fondly looked at Jun while pulling the tissue box toward you, slathered in old, chipping acrylic paint and obnoxious, starry glitter.

Licking the dry salt off your lips, you smiled. “Princess Pebble would love this.”

“It can be her shrine. When Wonwoo comes home, we can find a good place to bury it.” Jun explained. “I know I called her boring five years ago, but I didn’t mean it. I loved her too.”

In the pensive silence, you thought back to your conversation with Wonwoo, recalling his firm grip on your shoulders as he reiterated the importance of freeing your heart, of not bogging yourself down with too many untold truths. Then, you glanced at Jun. You thought about that fluttering feeling when you kissed him, when you ran your fingers through his hair, listening to his deep-chested laughter whenever he gleefully buckled over into your lap after telling one of his hit-or-miss jokes.

The boy tensed slightly as you pulled him into a hug, though he quickly came to ease and warmth. You thanked him, because it just felt like the right thing to do for his compassion.

And then you told him something else.

“I love you.”

Without missing a heartbeat, he murmured against your hair, “I love you too.”

It was late, unreasonably late, the past-midnight late where the entire world falls still like an unperturbed pond. Downtown was completely hushed. Every so often the wind picked up, though it inevitably withered away in between the buildings and emerged a pitiful whistle onto the street. And yet, despite the fact you should be tucked in bed while the moon protected the silence in her silver hands, you were pushing outside the convenience shop with Jun close behind.

He took the end of a straw into his mouth and slurped at the sweet, cherry-flavoured slushie that was beginning to empty. Immediately, he crinkled his forehead and his face contorted.

“How many times have I said not to do that?” You laughed as he passed you the slippery cup.

“I don’t know. Three?” Jun replied with a grimace. “I can really feel it. Wait, I need a moment.”

You stopped next to the traffic post at the end of the street. Jun grabbed at his hair and squeezed like it was some miraculous remedy for curing a brain freeze. Directing the straw into your mouth, you sucked up the cherry syrup and crushed ice until you felt the distant ache thrum inside your head.

“Okay…” Jun concluded, brushing the long, black fringe from his eyes, “I’m good now.”

Thrusting the drink back into his hands, you couldn’t help but huff: “you’re such a baby.”

As though to prove your point, Jun started whining. “My head is so, so cold. It’s freezing.”

“So put this up or something.” You teased, reaching around the back of his neck to pull the boy’s hood over his head. Giggling slightly, you grinned at him as he shot you a questionable glance.

The streets remained quiet, and the sky was remarkably clear, no more than a few ragged and thin clouds drifting over the stars. The last time you had been on this corner, you were licking the strawberry sugar off your fingertips while Jun crumpled his last packet of popping candy. You remembered tracing the rose tint that warmed his lips, each fibre in your muscle twitching because you just wanted to wrap a hand through his locks and kiss him like he was your last breath.

You didn’t understand how you could love one person so much. Why love often fused itself into your bloodstream more than functionality. Your heart knew how to beat, yet it stumbled whenever you gazed at him. Your lungs knew how to filter the air, yet they closed up whenever you caught his eye. Your tongue knew how to articulate, yet it tied itself in a knot the moment he’d touch you.

“Hey,” you mumbled, patting his arm, “can I ask you something?”

Jun looked away from the stars, sipping at his drink again. He nodded.

The moon probably wanted to crush your heart in her hands for how loudly it was thumping.

“What if I told you that I want people to know we’re together? What would you say?”

Despite your anxiousness, you weren’t as afraid as you anticipated. Maybe it was because Jun didn’t immediately sour or attempt to disparage your sentiments. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking as he blinked at you, but it didn’t matter. When it was most important, Jun picked his words carefully.

“I’d tell you that I want the same thing,” he admitted, his tone deepening and the amber in his cheeks sparked with pink, “that I want people to know how I feel about you… That I’ve always been in love with you.”

You smiled wide, like a kid who just got their braces off. Unable to contain such a rapturous energy, you stepped in close to Jun and held onto his shoulders, dotting the corners of his mouth with small kisses before you pressed your lips against his. You felt him smirk, though it seemed too devious. Jun had suddenly wrapped his arms around your lower back, pushing you in chest-to-chest. You melted as he kissed you, your fingertips ghosting along the soft hairs at his nape, the moonlight on your skin.

When you arrived back at the apartment, you could hear a few of Wonwoo’s gentle snores echo from behind the bedroom door. Just before you slipped away into your own room, Jun left a goodnight kiss to the top of your head, his hand thoughtfully squeezing your hip.

“I-Isn’t it a little late for that?” Jun stumbled through his laughter. “Why do you need me?”

It was a surface-level question really, but nonetheless, your heart still skipped a beat. In only a second or more the silence was bearing down too heavily and it felt like your heart was a book with all its pages out. Jun’s eyes were twinkling as he blinked up at you.

You finally knew what you should have said.

“Because I love you.”

✧✎ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SWEET PRINCE!! never would i have imagined that someone who’s on the opposite side of the globe could mean so much to me ;_; mr. moon has been such a healing presence, and it’s bc of him that i have found so much happiness these past five years! whenever i see him smiling and laughing and have good ol times just being himself, all my worrisome thoughts somehow fade away and i feel only joy!! 

anyways, i don’t want to ramble for too long (i could really fill a page with my cloying sentiments r.i.p) but i hope this was a wholesome fic!! the stars aligned and for once i was able to write a fic for a member’s birthday :_) 

#svt fanfic #jun scenarios #seventeen scenarios #jun fic #seventeen fics #seventeen imagines #jun imagine #jun x reader #svt x reader #wen junhui #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #junhui scenarios #jun fluff #junhui fic

[srbachchan]

DAY 4531

Covid ward,  Hospi               July 31,  2020               Fri 10:41 PM

So the site that had been mentioned somewhat briskly but with reserve has been through some tests at the ‘back end’ .. which to ignorant me means the tech team that does all the work in designing the property to make it a viable attractive and have the ease of practicality , has done its job and continues to work each hour to make sure all that shall be up for viewing, works efficiently ..

I do not know how this can be initiated, but those that have been given the work will of course eventually bring it up at the time of the launch and explain all the workings to the Ef of course, but in general also, to all that shall wish to use it.

So just as a vague example what the team informs me is that most of what the visitor needs to know shall be in an easy access mode. The visitor shall not have to go separately to say, the social media platforms - all of them shall be on site once you tune in. Information regarding activities past and present shall be available at the press of a single button. I do not wish to take names just yet , that would not be prudent or ethical, but maybe some of the platforms that are being used to convey, may have to take a back seat or no seat at all.

The whole idea of the concept has been in discussion for long, and the central thought that comes through in each of these discussions is how can we make accessibility to the Ef, to the fan , a lot easier a lot more rapid and a lot more gregarious. Most of this of course cannot be spoken or revealed just yet but I do feel that there shall, hopefully, be a dedicated and lasting connect with all that connects with me - not just the present, but also the past - not just me but also of the family ; in particular Babuji.

For a man of his eminence, as has been said so often, he never did  receive his due. It was his modesty and reserve that kept him away from immodestly blowing the horn of his achievements. His autobiography though has kept the feel of his self in great detail .. in great honesty .. 

Those that have read his prose speak volumes on its literary value and how some feel it has the superiority over his poetic works. This needs to be brought about. This needs to be put across in voice, in audio books, in the compositions of his works in music and recitation - by me ! Not just his poetry, but to be able to bring chapters of his prose that he has most creatively linked to his verse. 

Poets often write from a vision of the world .. a vision that they could have experienced themselves .. a vision that the world could be dictating and whether he agrees with it or not .. a vision that has deep philosophic value .. a vision that makes you sit up and think ‘ why did I not ever think so’ .. a vision that opens the value of the usage of words .. a vision that could become uncomfortable because of its reality and truth .. a vision that decades later still find meaning in whenever you encounter it .. 

How did a man of his background his lower middle class life, have the capacity to think so deep .. how did a man who excelled in his rendition of the Hindi work, encompass in the simplest usage the elements of the emotion he conveyed which touched all .. how did a man of his Hindi eminence, become a Professor in the English Department of the Allahabad University, an institution that was and still is renowned for its educational  and academic merit  .. how did a man of such exemplary qualification translate important Russian works .. how did a man of his eminence write the Bhagwat Gita, in the language and graph and tone of the Ramayan - the Jan Geeta .. how did a man of his eminence join the UOTC - the University Officers Training Core - a subsidiary of the armed forces, initiated by the British during the Raj ..

‘मैं क़लम और बंदूक़ चलता हूँ दोनो ; दुनिया में ऐसे बंदे कम पाए जाते हैं  !’

How did a man of his eminence design the music of most of his recitations , so closely identifiable even now. The tune of his famous ‘Madushala’ his own creation , as also many other prominent works of his , still bring so much nostalgia and awe when we sit down with my music partners to put his words to instrumentation melody. They are all being done. Many have already been recorded by me and wait for the right platform for them to be made public. To put them not just in audio form but to give it a visual ; hopefully with my personal participation. 

On the more personal front , activities of a ‘day in the life of’ shall have tons of footage of activities on set on recording on dubbing on KBC or events where stage shows were conducted .. on events where I was asked to speak .. the recordings of those speeches .. 

.. and remember there are other family personalities that shall be in their presence on the site .. 

.. already remixes of my own songs have been done, where the orchestration has been souped up and so has the singing - hopefully.

The moments I spend on a piano keyboard .. I do not know how to play, but the music partners have connected the piano via some computer technology to a lap top where every time I just randomly spend time on the key board it records automatically and transmits to the music partners who could pick up a note or two and make something of it .. not necessarily of great music value but at times a mood title is created and makes for gentle listening pleasure. 

AND .. here is where I shall ask and request my devoted dedicated Ef to make contributions. Many do even now every day. In paintings and photo shopped designs. In their opinion in verse. In their thoughts. I shall welcome all .. and if found creatively expedient, shall not hesitate to render them in my voice and to expose it to the entire world - much like what we did during the promotions of ‘Badla’ ..

There is so much to say and disclose, but at the right time. The time now is to repair. If God willing I do survive this Covid, a lot will be asked of you, and I know that the contribution shall be so forthcoming that I shall never have to fear the lack of content.

I am blessed to have my Ef ..  of who they are ..  and what they have meant to me all these years ..

My gratitude and my love ❤️

Amitabh Bachchan   

[nitewrighter]

Hiya mun, sorry to ask for one, but could you please write a short ficlet of either any of the ow cast or your ow fankids spending time with their pets, if they have any?

I need to write more Spiderbyte Parent Content. And of course I should write more Smol Marti content.

Also Camille Saint-Saen’s “Aquarium” lives in my mind rent free.

-----

It was the sixth night in two weeks that Marti’s gasping had woken them up. Widowmaker had learned to tune her ears to Marti, and despite how quiet she was in daylight hours, Widowmaker had become aware of the small girl’s shuffling around the house. She felt Marti’s large, deep brown eyes on her, peeking out from around walls and doorways. Marti talked to Sombra in Spanish, but had shrunken back when McCree tried to speak to her, clutching close to Sombra’s legs. At six years old, the top of Marti’s head came up to about Sombra’s hip, but Widowmaker had to listen for her so she didn’t trip over her. Marti had spent the first week in their apartment curled up on a blow-up mattress in Sombra’s study--a space that was more or less rendered walk-in-closet size by Sombra’s multiple monitors and servers---while Symmetra and Torbjorn took out a wall of their apartment to expand into a new room for her. She slept in the pink glow of Sombra’s monitors as she worked, to the faint tapping of keyboards and clicking of a mouse and the warbling of screens projected by Sombra’s own augmentations. Widowmaker wanted to tell Marti how much she understood her, how much she understood the instinct to make yourself smaller, how much comfort lied simply in being in Sombra’s presence as she delved her digital rabbit holes.... but Marti was still wary with her, still distant. It was Sombra who had found Marti that bloody night. Sombra who held her hand and walked her to safety. Sombra who held her on the dropship ride back to Gibraltar, stroking her fingers over Marti’s black hair. Sombra who spoke gentle comforting words to her that she, as a crisis orphan, never got the chance to hear herself. Sombra the guardian. Sombra the godmother.

Widowmaker and Sombra had painted Marti’s room together, a pale orchid pink (Sombra had managed to get Marti to pick out the color swatch) and they had sat on the floor together, puzzling over the parts of a twin-sized captain’s bed and a small desk. Once furniture was all assembled and the scent of drying paint faded enough, Marti moved in, hesitantly, skeptically brushing her hand over the quilted magenta Official Meka bunny-printed comforter and pillowcase that D.Va had donated. Sombra tried to decorate the room with little mementos of Dorado--One wall had a short banner of purple papel picado etched out with floral, star, and sun designs, as well as one in the center of the banner that had Marti’s own name, ‘MARTINA’ in ornate letters hanging over Marti’s bed. The opposite wall had a mulberry-colored macrame wall hanging that Sombra had gotten in a Dorado marketplace. There was a small framed photo of Marti and Soledad on the bookshelf headboard of Marti’s bed. Overall, the room was a cozier, more toned-down adaptation of the hot-pink glitter-addled ‘princess’ rooms that Sombra and Widowmaker never had in their own childhoods--Sombra by virtue of being crammed into an orphanage, and Widowmaker by virtue of her own parents’ brutally avant-garde tastes. Finally, Marti sat on the bed, looking up between Sombra and Widowmaker.

“...Is it okay?” Sombra had asked.

Marti gave a short polite nod and Sombra smiled. Marti gently nudged Sombra’s arm, prompting Sombra to bend down so Marti could whisper in her ear. After a beat Sombra huffed, smiled, brushed a thumb over Marti’s cheek and said, “Para esto estamos,” softly before drawing herself back up to her height. “She said thank you,” Sombra said to Widowmaker.

“I gathered,” Widowmaker said, but felt the distance in the politeness.

And now Marti was waking them up again with her gasps--high pitched sounds with how small she was, creaking with sobs that were suppressed by hyperventilation. Pretty and brittle like thin tree branches whipping in an autumn wind. 

Sombra broke out from Widowmaker’s arms, stumbling, clumsy with sleepiness, and quickly paced into Marti’s room. Widowmaker propped up some pillows in their bed and sat up, resting her bare forearms on her sheet-covered knees as she waited. In the other room, Sombra was talking low and quick in Spanish to Marti, and Widowmaker made out the sound of Sombra demonstratively breathing slow and deep, trying to get Marti to sync her own breaths to her. Those high pitched breaths slowed. Widowmaker pressed her fingertips into the skin of her arm, her lean dancer’s muscles not yielding against her own grip. I should be in there, she thought, I should be helping her. One more person who lost everything to Talon. One more person who lost everything to a fight that had nothing to do with her. But I’m a stranger.

----

“...there has to be more we can do,” Widowmaker said the next morning as she gently eased a fried egg onto a slice of fresh baked baguette smeared with avocado.

“She’s got her first vid conference with that doctor that Ziegler looked up for us next Wednesday,” said Sombra, flicking through a few pink screens at the table, sipping her coffee,  “I checked her out. It’s solid.”

“Mm,” Widowmaker set a plate in front of Sombra.

“And I think we know better than anybody, stuff like this isn’t cut and dry,”  said Sombra, biting into the toast and pulling away quickly to avoid getting egg yolk on her chin as she , “She’s going to be dealing with this for a long time.”

Widowmaker was silent, easing her own fried egg onto her own avocado-smeared baguette slice. She listened to the slight warbles of Sombra’s screens as she cracked pepper over the sunny yellow yolk, then brought her chin up with some resolve. “So we make new memories,” she said.

“Mm?” Sombra glanced up from her screens.

“For me, it was looking up Gérard’s photos, it was... rebuilding, but for her... she’s stuck in a strange place with this--this fear bouncing around in her and so little experience in the world. So we make new memories. We let her see that, even though this thing happened to her, that this world is... is... bright. And... and good.” The words felt a little alien in Widowmaker’s throat and her shoulders were bunched up as she set the plate aside. Widowmaker had spent so long in such a dark place that all the defenses and instincts she had built up in that darkness were completely discombobulated by her own desire to let Marti know safety and happiness. She felt Sombra’s eyes on her, bright and studying.

“So... a day out?” said Sombra, opening up another screen.

A shuffling of bare feet on linoleum came from down the hall and both Sombra and Widowmaker glanced up as Marti entered the kitchen and clambered up into a chair that was just a little too big for her, but she was a little too big for a booster seat.

“How do you like your eggs?” said Widowmaker looking over her shoulder at Marti, “Um...” she gave an uncertain glance at Sombra and then pivoted, pointing at the frying pan with her spatula. “Huevos?”

“Fritos?” Sombra said to Marti, gesturing with her thumb at Widowmaker before pointing at her own plate.

Marti nodded.

“Same thing for her,” said Sombra, looking at Widowmaker.

Widowmaker quickly sliced off another bit of baguette, smeared some avocado over it, and cracked salt, pepper and little squeeze of lemon juice over the avocado, then quickly fried the egg to golden yolk and lacy-browned-edges perfection. Sombra was talking to Marti in Spanish as Widowmaker worked but Widowmaker only made out about 75% of it. Something about Sombra’s computers and... Luz nocturna... night light?

Marti gave a furious, stiff-lipped shake of her head and craned over to whisper something with an unusual amount of forcefulness into Sombra’s ear. Sombra’s shoulders slumped and she said something conceding in Spanish. Sombra gave a “welp” glance over to Widowmaker and Widowmaker understood immediately. Marti didn’t get her hyperventilating nightmares back when she was sleeping in the glow of Sombra’s computers in the study, but she had refused Sombra’s suggestion of a night light. It was all Widowmaker could do to bring Marti’s plate over and take a seat at the table with her own breakfast.

Marti bit into her avocado toast sullenly, not making eye contact with either of them, though her eyes widened as she chewed and she dug into her food with a reassuring eagerness. Widowmaker smiled a little. I’m good at that, at least, she thought, then cleared her throat awkwardly. “I... was thinking... we could all have a day out. Do something fun.”

Marti looked up from her plate, then over at Sombra. Sombra half-translated and Marti seemed thoughtful.

“We could...” Widowmaker gave a flailing, ‘help me’ glance over at Sombra, “We could...um...”

Sombra quickly flicked a pink screen into existence and rapidly scrolled down. “Go to the aquarium!” she blurted out.

“Yes,” Widowmaker latched onto that, “The aquarium.”

“Aquarium?” Marti repeated the word, the latin roots providing a stumbling middle ground for her.

“It’s... educational!” Sombra eked out the words hesitantly and gave a glance to Widowmaker. She smiled at Marti, “I think you should be able to see there’s more to Gibraltar than the watchpoint.”

Marti gave a bewildered glance between them. At that point there was a strange rapport that arced between the three of them, sharp and swift like lightning, all of them fumbling in the dark trying to figure out what it was that families did. Happy families. They had to do things, didn’t they? And aquariums existed, didn’t they? Sombra was looking at her screens. There were children in the promotional pictures--this was a thing kids did, right? Marti gave a hesitant nod and Sombra gave a grin to Widowmaker.

----

“Gibraltar’s artificial reef started as an initiative in 1973, sinking ships in the mediterranean sea to give wildlife structures to colonize and breed in,” a primly dressed tour guide was standing in front of a massive tank that featured fake pier beams and what appeared to be the ragged front half of a fishing boat covered in coral, barnacles, and seaweed. Some skates and fish lazily drifted about the tank, and a few finicky crabs were crawling around the wreck and the rocks. “Overwatch’s ‘Ecowatch’ division’s efforts to mitigate the environmental impacts of the Omnic Crisis, as well as new sunken wreckage from the conflict itself, resulted in an unprecedented explosion of biodiverse marine life!”

Marti was swaying a little where she held Sombra’s hand, not really listening to a tour guide whose words she only understood a little bit. Widowmaker gave an uncertain glance to her own bluish nailbeds. She had gotten a lot of color back in her recovery, but she was still wary, for both hers and Sombra’s sake. Getting here had been easy enough, just Sombra ‘borrowing’ the Watchpoint’s crappy old truck (pretty much anyone who might object was off on a mission), and a short drive from there, and of course Sombra had hacked them tickets, but now Widowmaker became acutely aware of just how strange the situation was now that Marti was in their lives. In any other situation, civilian life would be a mask--her presence here would be merely idling time away before or after a mission, but now she was coming to terms with the fact that people were here and this was their lives, this was their normal lives, and now, though her own life was still far from normal, this was her life too. She and Sombra were both dressed to blend in, of course, Sombra parting her hair and wearing a sleeveless turtleneck to cover up her neural implants, and Widowmaker wearing large coral-framed glasses to distract from the yellowness of her own eyes. Marti stood out more than either of them in a magenta and white sundress and chunky black velcro sandals. Widowmaker smiled a little. The looseness of the sundress and the thickness of the sandals’ straps against her feet seemed to emphasize Marti’s small size, and Marti had doggedly wrangled her thick, wavy black hair into two uneven pigtails that swayed about her bare brown shoulders every time she turned her head. It lent a certain wildness to her appearance that Widowmaker couldn’t help but admire. At the core of all that timidity was a furious, stubborn survival instinct, and it simultaneously filled Widowmaker’s heart with love and compassion, and broke it, for all her desire to have Marti look to her like she looked to Sombra.

But Marti wasn’t looking at either of them, now, those big brown doe eyes were nearly black with blue-white highlights by the light of the aquarium tanks as she stared into a tank of moon jellies, transfixed by the drifting, alien forms. Widowmaker wondered if she was reading too far into Marti’s apparent fascination with the cnidarians’ utter indifference to each other. Marti was still hesitant to interact with the other kids on the watchpoint, which was fair, considering her shakily growing grasp on English and the fact that she was two years older than Rei and four years older than the twins. They were able to watch holo-programs together, at least, but actually playing was a bit awkward. But then Widowmaker’s train of thought was interrupted as Marti lead Sombra along again and Widowmaker trailed along with them. Marti’s silence seemed at home here, the conversations of the crowd only a low murmur and most people resigned to just stare at the fish in the different tanks as they drifted by. Marti made an audible gasping noise as they entered the tropical fish section, yanking Sombra along to point at the more brightly colored fish. 

“...I like this,” Sombra said, as Marti squatted in front of a tank where several leafy sea dragons wove through a mass of seaweed and seagrass, “It’s so easy to forget sometimes, you know? That there’s a world outside the fight.”

“That there’s a world outside that ‘eye?’” Widowmaker glanced over at her and Sombra quickly tensed and looked around, scanning the crowd.

“Sorry--” Widowmaker started.

“No--it’s fine...” Sombra shook her head a little, her eyes fixing on Marti, “Now I have one more person it can target... as if there weren’t enough monsters in the dark already.”

The word ‘dark’ caught Widowmaker. “What you were saying to her earlier... she doesn’t want a night light?”

“She said they’re for babies,” Sombra huffed, putting her hands on her hips, “But if her own stubbornness is just going to keep her hyperventilating like that...”

“It’s awfully dark in here, non?” Widowmaker mused.

“Well, yeah, ‘flash photography bothers the fish’ and all, but most of the light comes from the tanks anyway---” Sombra started and then caught herself and then looked at Widowmaker, “...what web are you spinning now?” she said, a smile pulling at her lips, but Widowmaker just smiled in turn.

The afternoon trailed on in that strange suspension of time one only gets in aquariums, the tension between wanting to see everything, yet being able to stare into the blue forever and the minutes slipping by like so many bluefin tuna. Marti served as the major marker of how much time was passing, going from brisk little jogs, to a more steady pace matching Widow and Sombra’s, to tiredly trailing a couple of steps behind them. . They rested on a bench against the acrylic glass walls of the aquarium’s shark tunnel, watching as rays and a massive angelshark drifted overhead, the ribbons of water-refracted light shimmering across the floor. Marti first leaned against the glass, staring up between Sombra and widowmaker,  then slowly, ever so slowly, thick lashes drooped over her eyes and her head nodded down slightly. The glass of the tunnel squeaked under the bare skin of her shoulders as she drifted to the side, her cheek smooshing against Widowmaker’s shoulder as her weight slumped against her.

Widowmaker froze at the contact, glanced down at Marti with wide eyes, then her eyes flicked over to Sombra, whose face scrunched up with a stifled giggle. Widowmaker just gently brushed a stray strand of hair from Marti’s face. It wouldn’t be cut and dry--it wasn’t for her, and it wouldn’t be for Marti... but she could be here. She and Sombra would both be here.

-----

“So...? What do you think?” said Sombra as Marti’s eyes flicked between different fish tanks at the pet store. A few days had passed since the aquarium.

“Are you sure?” Marti looked over her shoulder at both Sombra and Widow, her words were halting, her accent thick in her consonants, but she was getting more confident, she wasn’t grabbing Sombra to whisper in her ear as often.

“It’s a big responsibility, but we can all help,” said Widowmaker, bending down to Marti’s level, “We’ll read all the books, and work together to make sure it’s very happy with us.”

Marti pressed her lips together tight and gave a short little nod with a very serious, “Hm!” and Widowmaker smiled at her determination. 

“So... which one?” said Sombra, as Marti turned back towards the fish tanks.

Marti surveyed each of the tanks very seriously, her brow furrowed. Several minutes of dead silence passed before Marti pointed to one nearly-black betta with purple-blue undertones and said, “I like this one.”

Both Widowmaker and Sombra stooped down next to Marty to look into the tank. The betta flared its fins at all three of their faces looking through the glass and Widowmaker softly snorted through her nostrils. 

“Why this one?” said Sombra.

“He’s pretty, and um--a little scary,” said Marti.

“Scary?” said Widowmaker.

“He’s a guard fish,” Marti said very firmly.

“Oh, a guard fish, of course,” said Widowmaker.

-----

Another two weeks had passed when Sombra stirred in Widowmaker’s arms in the middle of the night and she slipped out of bed.

“Sombra?” Widowmaker sat up in bed.

“I’ll just be right back,” Sombra whispered.

Curious, Widowmaker slid out of bed after her and trailed behind her down the hall. Sombra was at the frame of Marti’s door, peering in. Marti’s breaths were steady and barely audible amid the sound of a fish tank filter. Sometimes they could hear Marti talking to the fish, which she named Nochito, 

Nochito stood stark against the bright green plants in his tank on Marti’s desk. The faint blue-green glow of the fish tank itself made the pink of the room look more purple in the night. 

“...I keep waking up thinking she might...” Sombra trailed off and Widowmaker gently draped an arm around her shoulder.

“We’ll be here if it happens,” said Widowmaker, gently kissing Sombra on the corner of her jaw. 

“Yeah...” Sombra said, putting her hand over Widowmaker’s, “Yeah, we will, won’t we?”

They watched Marti sleep for another few minutes, her black hair splashed across her pillow in dark whorls. Sombra’s eyes flicked back to the faint light of the fish tank.

“Gotta say, guard fish is way cooler than night light,” said Sombra with a wry grin at Widowmaker. 

“It suits her,” Widowmaker said with a gentle smile.

“She’s a fighter, too,” said Sombra.

#spiderbyte #spiderbyte kid

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 2

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 - Ghost Encounter

Before that incident occurred, Lin Yan didn't believe that there were ghosts in the world. He studied history during his undergrad and continued straight into doing his master's in archaeology. When he was on an expedition with his professor, he picked up the bones of a dead body and plucked a jade cicada from the mouth of a mummified body. Ghost stories were always something joked about in their dormitories. If something happened to people after they died, then the world would know about it. For example, if someone picked up the imperial blue bowl of the emperor, the old man would notice and stand up, shouting: "That's mine!" How interesting.

The dead should just let the dust from the past settle and stay quiet.

Lin Yan had just finished dinner when things changed. He didn't live in the school dormitories. He had moved into the apartment his parents had set aside for him when he got married because of the fights his old roommates in the dorms had with their in-laws on the phone. This apartment was much closer to the school, and he had been living alone since then. He cooks alone, plays games alone, and travels halfway across the city to visit his parents on the weekends. Lin Yan is one of the tens of thousands of small researchers in dozens of colleges and universities in this city. If he makes great accomplishments, his future will be bright, but if he's average, then he will be lost in the crowd.

That day, he made himself Fried Sauce Noodles. Once the minced meat was boiled, it was mixed into the sweet stir-fry noodle sauce. The noodles were drained out of the pan, topped with the sauce, and it was delicious. Lin Yan took the bowl and sat in front of the computer, watching "My Old Memories of Old Beijing" and eating the noodles.

The air was humid and stuffy in the early summer weather. Suddenly, halfway through the movie, a clap of thunder rang out outside. It didn't take long for large raindrops to pour down, and the thin lines of water on the window glass became a curtain of rain, pattering against the windows.

Lin Yan was busy turning off the video. Before his computer had fully shut off, a bolt of lightning flashed across the night sky. With a snap, the computer went black.

Afraid that something might happen, Lin Yan complained and unplugged the computer from the socket. He used a desktop computer specially equipped for 3D restoration renderings of cultural relics. As soon as the power came back after the thunderstorm had passed, he would have to submit a repair request.

Tomorrow, he'd have to trouble Yin Zhou to repair the machine again.

Suddenly, a strange feeling washed over him.

Cold, inexplicably cold, sending a shiver up his spine.

He didn't know when the temperature of the room started to drop. He didn't even notice it while he was watching the movie. Now it feels like he was inside an ice cave. The cold is coming out from all corners and enveloping his body. The sweat on his body turning cold, his t-shirt sticking to his back.

Lin Yan vigorously wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans, thinking about how the weather must be cooling down because of the rain, and decided to get up to find a long-sleeved shirt. Before he could get up, his eyes glanced at the computer screen and nervously sat back down.

With the lights on in the room, the situation in the room was clearly reflected on the dark computer screen. In front of the screen was Lin Yan's face, and behind him was the window, which opened wide inward, and the curtains were swept around by the wind. It was the "person" standing in front of the curtain that made Lin Yan frozen from head to toe.

That's not it; it was more like the shape of a person - a person wearing a strange hat.

Lin Yan stared blankly at the things on the screen, a sense of panic slowly creeping up his spine.

It must have been a clothes hanger that he forgot to move, there's no need to jump to conclusions. Lin Yan pulled at the corner of his clothes, took a deep breath, and swung his head around.

Nothing was there. Everything in the house looked normal. The only difference was that the raindrops were coming even larger, the rainwater twisting into small streams on the glass and flowing down.

His suspenseful heart began to calm down.

No! Lin Yan went numb all of a sudden. Not only was there no one there, but the windows were clearly locked, and the curtains were tightly tied on both sides. How could they be blown by the wind? What he saw in the reflection on the screen just now. . . what was going on?

An illusion! It must be an illusion! Lin Yan clenched his jaw. He couldn't help but pinch himself to keep himself sane.

There was a small electric crackle. The power went out, and the whole room fell into silent darkness.

Almost at the same time, the indicator light of the computer monitor suddenly flickered. The two small red lights looked like blinking eyes, accompanied by the squeaking sound of the whirring motors. The screen that was in a completely power-off state glowed green as if the screen saver had been switched. It's like a procedure.

No. . . Wasn't there a power outage? Lin Yan was completely speechless. His whole body was pushed back into the chair by the sudden and weird atmosphere. Then the screen flashed and, as if someone was typing, large characters appeared one after the other on the screen, piercingly red.

"The first day of the month of Wushen; the death date is approaching."

Another clap of thunder boomed outside the window.

Lin Yan swallowed hard and stared at the line of words on the screen. He tried his best to calm himself down, but his mind went blank.

It must be. . . It must be Yin Zhou pranking him.

He was a professional programmer and technical expert. Messing with the program to mess up the power grid. It must be boring to try and scare yourself or something.

"The first day of the month of Wushen; the death date is approaching."

The line of red letters flashed on the screen twice and disappeared. The computer then powered back off. Only Lin Yan's heavy breathing remained in the dark room. He took out his cell phone from his pant pocket and tried to call Yin Zhou. Before he pressed the call button, there was a heavy and repetitive tapping on the windowpane.

"Taptaptap. . . taptaptap"

He couldn't see anything in the heavy curtain of rain.

Lin Yan suddenly jumped up and leaned against the computer desk, staring out the window. This. . . this was the twelfth floor, what could be knocking on the window?

"Taptaptap. . . taptaptap"

The knocking increased as if someone were waiting impatiently.

Materialists couldn't stand immediate losses. Besides, creatures always have the instinct to avoid danger. The atmosphere was so strange. Lin Yan grabbed the car keys from his pocket and rushed out of the house without looking back.

The rain fell harder and faster, and the normally bustling three-ring road was empty. There was only the heavy rain curtains and thick fog. Lin Yan turned on his headlights lights all the way. He hoped to find an exit that was bustling with life and filled with a large crowd. In one night, his normal life was completely messed up. There was no signal from his cell phone and no signal from the radio. He seemed to be isolated in a corner of the world and was just driving around endlessly.

Lin Yan glanced at the fuel gauge. He was running out of fuel as he went further down the road, but he had not found the exit of the overpass. He was a native to this country and yet he was trapped in the city that he had been living in for 22 years. Just saying it was absurd enough to make anyone laugh.

The low-beam light couldn't illuminate the road very far. Under the warm yellow light, only the dense lines of rain could be seen falling diagonally, washing down his windshield. There was a wide road in front of him, turn after turn. There were no people, no cars, and even the sound of the GPS reporting how many kilometres were left was inaudible and his speed on the speedometer was barely visible. Lin Yan looked straight ahead, for fear of missing any fork in the road.

After travelling on the highway for nearly three hours, Lin Yan finally began to panic after passing the IKEA billboard multiple times over.

A deep thought came to mind.

The ghost was making him go around in circles.

The arrow on his fuel gauge was almost at 'empty'. Lin Yan slowed down. He thought he couldn't keep driving forward. Obviously, there was a force trying to stop him. What he should do is to sort out his thoughts and find a solution instead of continuing to drive around aimlessly. He didn't dare think about what would happen if he ran out of fuel.

Lin Yan pulled the car over, leaving only his hazard lights on, then sat in the car and began to think about what happened at night.

Power outages, computers that suddenly freaked out, strange reflections.

The first thing that came to mind was that someone was playing a prank, but he immediately denied it. If it was just the problem with his computer, he might still suspect the unreliable programmer Yin Zhou, but the knocking on the window, preventing him from getting off the highway, and blocking his mobile and radio signals; none of that was this guy's style. Lin Yan searched his mind for a long time to find a candidate that might want to scare a friend like this, but he came up with nothing.

He himself was a very good person. He was a good student from elementary straight through his master's. Apart from skipping classes to play Warcraft, and handing notes to his classmates during an exam, he basically had no blips on his record. He has never even played any tricks on girls, let alone his immediate friend group. Even if someone wanted to play a prank on someone as revenge, that wasn't how Lin Yan handled things.

Lin Yan was a person who, even when he ate toothpaste and cookies on April Fool's Day, still believed that he was just eating something mint-flavoured. To understand what was going on, Lin Yan could only find the solution by going through his process of elimination. By the time he can go through his hilariously incompetent system of thinking, he has probably already vomited up three litres of blood.

Lin Yan rubbed his temples and thought hard. Someone was threatening him in an inexplicable way, or was outright declaring war.

Lin Yan turned on the cell phone's calendar and entered the date of the first day of the Wushan month. The small square immediately jumped to the corresponding date: July 15 and the gates of hell would be wide open.

Something is wrong, Lin Yan thought.

When he looked up again, there was suddenly something that hadn't been there before that appeared in front of his car.

A figure stood near the side of the road as the heavy rain poured down. The figure didn't seem to notice Lin Yan was there, neither holding an umbrella nor wearing a raincoat, quietly standing with his head held down under the dim street lamp. The fog everywhere made Lin Yan unable to see his appearance. He could only make out that it was tall and he was wearing weird, oversized clothes. The caring Lin Yan wanted to offer the figure a ride. Even though he can't really protect himself right now, but he can at least provide some shelter from the rain.

An empty highway, rainy night, a strange individual on the side of the road, this unfortunate picture seemed suspicious at first, but Lin Yan saw something a little more depressing.

The figure seemed. . . very lonely, like waiting for a resolution that will never come.

Lin Yan re-started the car after making sure all the doors were locked, and slowly slid forward along the roadside, thinking that after being trapped in this endless loop for so long anyway, it was more useful to see if this person might be able to help him break the cycle.

When he was less than ten metres away from the person, Lin Yan suddenly froze as though a gong went off beside his ear. He finally realized why he felt there was something wrong with this figure. This person had no shadow.

The streetlamp was casting light on this person, but there was no shadow at his feet. The place where the shadow should have been was just the shape of the streetlamp reflected in the puddle, which was shaken by the continuously falling rain, rippling and disturbing the surface of the water.

Lin Yan knew what he had encountered almost instantly.

He was covered in a cold sweat, he couldn't keep a grip on the steering wheel because of his clammy palms. There was a bitter taste in his mouth. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, not caring how much fuel he had left. He didn't even care if there was any road ahead, he just knew subconsciously that he had to get away.

40km, 60km, 80km, 90km. . .

Suddenly a car sped out in front of him. Lin Yan was stunned, and instinctively stepped on the brakes and jerked the steering wheel to the left!

"Squeel--" After the extremely sharp and piercing sound, the front bumper Lin Yan's Audi A4 was just a few centimetres away from the Buick's back bumper as he brushed past it. Immediately after, Lin Yan drove into the bushes and the car shook before getting stuck. After it stopped shaking, the windshield was covered with holly leaves.

The car had almost been totalled.

Lin Yan lay on the steering wheel, panting heavily, his whole body was frozen.

"Knockknockknock." Something harshly knocked against the car window

Lin Yan jumped nervously and stared at the glass in horror. When he could see the face of a man, he let out a long sigh, and then rolled down the car window.

"Who the hell taught you how to drive? If you were so desperate to die, just tell me and I'll beat you to death!"

A series of harsh curses about his ancestors gave Lin Yan a sense of joy, bringing him back to reality. He almost rushed out and hugged the Buick driver.

"No. . . I'm sorry, I've been on this highway for three hours. I just found my way. I was a little excited, sorry, sorry."

Lin Yan wasn't paying attention to what the other driver said, and couldn't help smiling bitterly since the driver must really consider him an idiot.

The Buick driver stared at Lin Yan for a while, then suddenly stopped the curse, and muttered, "You look like you've seen a ghost." He took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and handed one to Lin Yan: "Did you come across something weird? Smoke a cigarette to calm your nerves. You should bring out a protection charm next time. We all have strange experiences at night every now and again."

Lin Yan got out of the car, and the driver lit the cigarette for Lin Yan. The two stood side by side on the roadside. Strangely, cars began whizzing by on the road. There were rows of shops and tall buildings lit up on both sides of the street where there was originally only fog and dark shadows. Even the rain from earlier had stopped.

Lin Yan took a puff of cigarettes and calmed down, and said in surprise: "Have we met before?"

The driver smiled indifferently: "It often happens, especially in places with a lot of accidents. The more deadly the accident, the more evil will be left behind."

Lin Yan nodded. He didn't know how much his materialistic worldview changed from this information.

After sending the driver away, Lin Yan whipped the sweat off his forehead and took out his phone to check the time. The screen showed two text messages and three missed calls, one every half an hour on average within the past two hours. Lin Yan opened his settings; the phone wasn't muted, the volume wasn't very loud but it was enough from him to hear it. It confirmed that the signal had been blocked this whole time.

Message 1: "Will you come out for a drink? The regular place."

Message 2: "What are you doing? Answer the phone!"

Both the sender and the caller were Yin Zhou.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost #dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #yaoi novel #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #danmei novel

[shoalfoodblog]

Sesskag nonsense pls enjoy

————

His ears were burning

And not because someone was talking about him.

They were decidedly not talking about him. They were prattling onabout themselves and a patently what human women wasted breath in discussing and it really shouldn’t have even garnered his attention but he was a being gifted - though in this instance it felt more like a curse - with superior senses, and the glade was quiet, and peaceful - or it WAS - and there was nothing to distract from the, from the Discussion the two female humans were having on the opposite side of the clearing.

He exhaled.

He was not someone who usually experienced overheating but, well this must be an incredibly sweltering summer day for even one such as himself to be affected.

Record breaking, even.

The human women must be… delirious from the oppressive temperature. It was the only thing to explain...this topic of conversation. His brother’s wench was barely wearing anything to shield her creamy- to shield her mortal flesh - from the harsh rays.

“I mean I’ve never gone that far, but I heard from my friend Eri that if you REALLY want to surprise your man you take the tip and -“

Hn. Had the flowers in that corner of the field always been white? No, not pure white, but more an eggshell or a fresh cream white -

”Oh! I never would have thought of that! It’s hard to even imagine these things, I must be red as Inuyasha’s fire rat. I mean there’s talk amongst the village girls but your era has so much more information! But anyways...What if it’s too ...big wouldnt you then -“

Really they were almost porcelain in their coloring. Most wouldn’t notice such a subtlety in hue, but this one is particularly observant of any such minute difference..

“That’s a good question! Of course I don’t have any experience but I’d imaging if you just grab the bottom half-“

ALABASTER. Of course. They were alabaster. How silly to mistake them for anything else. The flowers were alabaster. Much like his own haori, or the skin on the upper thigh of his brother’s miko - HE WOULD ASSUME, if for whatever reason he was forced to look upon her human flesh for longer than necessary-

“Hah! If only the monk could hear us now. I think he’d be shocked!”

“Maybe he’d learn a thing or two! Or at least be stupefied enough to keep his hands to himself.”

Maybe he should… move to the shade. If only to set an example for his brother’s weak traveling companions, who were too dim to realize how terribly warm it was outside today. The heat he was currently experiencing would surely render them useless if a foe were to appear.

“Well, I saw Inuyasha’s once... on accident of course! I thought he died in the onsen! But I'm not sure what I could compare it to…”

“Well… I’m sure it wouldn’t compare to Lord Perfect!”

“Sango!!”

“What? I’m not blind. He’s got to have some impressive… equipment if the rest of him is anything to go on”

He blacked out. Just for a fraction of a moment.

“Ah! It’s hard to even imagine him as ...having one you know? Like it just doesn’t compute!”

“Compute?”

“Make sense! He’s so...pretty and immaculate my brain just fries when I try to picture him with a…. well! You know!”

Wait a moment now.

“I see what you mean. Maybe he’s overcompensating for something!”

“Maybe that’s why he was so interested in the Tetsusaiga all those years ago!”

This was. Unacceptable.

The tittering females had crossed a line.

To question…! Of all things!

“It could be the one thing Inuyasha has him beat at!.....Sango? What’s with that face?”

“Er- Kagome-Chan….”

“It would explain so much!”

“You might really want to stop talking right now.”

“Huh? What are you looking at?”

“Miko.”

“S-Sesshomaru-sama!”

“Please. Do continue. I find your observations… fascinating, if not terribly unfounded.”

“Oh my god. I mean, no you must be mistaken! I mean I… or we were just”

“This one values truth, and thoroughness. So I find myself desiring to correct your… misunderstanding.”

“Wait. What?”

And with a flourish, Kagome was gone and the demon lord with her, which is how Sango found herself alone in the field.

#sesskag #sesskag fanfiction #fanfiction #drabble #i dint know #im sorry

[brendamariesmith]

WHAT NOT TO STOCK FOR AN APOCALYPSE, PART FIVE (Updated)

As much as we love and depend on them, most if not all of our ELECTRONIC DEVICES WILL BE RENDERED USELESS, especially if your disaster includes an electromagnetic pulse (EMP) like the solar one in my novel or the kind that accompanies a nuclear bomb or an alien invasion (think: WAR OF THE WORLDS, the Tom Cruise version).

10. SMART PHONES:

Unless you have a Faraday cage, your electronic devices may not survive an EMP, especially one that results from a nuclear bomb. FYI, a Faraday cage is a device that’s supposed to shelter electronics from EMP’s, though I have my doubts about them working. In my apocalyptic tale, Bea didn’t bother with a Faraday cage. I might go so far as to list them as things not to stock for future disasters. I mean, say your cell phone survives in one of these cages. Who you gonna call?

For our beloved smart phones, even if they light up and play music and display photos, the internet will be down and the cell towers will be fried. You can use mobile phones as door stops or to throw at rats or armed invaders, though there are more effective things to use for these purposes, such as rocks.

11. LAPTOP COMPUTERS & NOTEBOOKS will meet more or less the same fate as smart phones, though if you manage to keep these devices from getting fried dead, then they ought to at least store data. You’ll need a way to charge them so you can access the data. The Red Cross and others sell wind-up emergency radios that allow you to charge phones. They may also allow charging of other electronics, as long as they have the right prongs to fit the charging port.

12. LAND LINES are likely to fry in an EMP, but in other situations involving loss of power, sometimes land lines still work. However, if you have the kind of telephones that most of us have, they don’t work without electricity. Like these:

What you need is one or more of these, on the off-chance that your land lines still work when everything else goes to hell. Keep in mind that whomever you try to call will need an analog phone, too. Maybe you should give these to family and friends for birthdays. Prepare to be laughed at.

We may have to go back to smoke signals, drums, and homing pigeons for communication beyond our neighborhoods.

OR, the new Pony Express.

13. AND SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR APPLIANCES AND OTHER ELECTRIC AND ELECTRONIC FRIENDS:

Non-running ceiling fans can be handy places to hang laundry.

OR, you can hang streamers or scarves from your ceiling fan, then open windows on windy days to add a celebratory air to your otherwise bleak life.

To see how my unlikely apocalyptic hero, seventy-year-old Bea Crenshaw, shepherds her grandkids and neighbors through the aftermath of a solar pulse, check out IF DARKNESS TAKES US on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Darkness-Takes-Brenda-Marie-Smith-ebook/dp/B07WK9BQHNor order it from your favorite indie bookstore:

The sequel, IF THE LIGHT SHOULD COME, will be out June 2021 from SFK Press.

STAY TUNED FOR FUTURE INSTALLMENTS OF “WHAT NOT TO STOCK FOR AN APOCALYPSE.”

NEXT UP: CASH, GOLD, & OTHER SO-CALLED CASH EQUIVALENTS

#apocalypse scifi thrillers dystopia bookseries novels books stockpiling

[angelofberlin2000]

by Natalie Finn | Fri., May. 17, 2019 3:00 AM

When Keanu Reeves was asked the other night, "What do you think happens when we die?" interviewer Stephen Colbert probably wasn't expecting such a deep—or assured—answer from the movie star.

"I know that the ones that love us will miss us," the 54-year-old actor said sagely, rendering the Late Show host unusually speechless.

It was a sincere, thoughtful response—vintage Reeves, really—from someone who's had reason to think about such things.

"I haven't really thought about my career future, or what was going to happen, until really recently," he also told GQ in February. Asked why he started thinking about it, he replied, "Death!"

Watch https://www.eonline.com/videos/289305/how-keanu-reeves-training-for-john-wick-3-compares-to-the-matrix

How Keanu Reeves' Training for John Wick 3 Compares to The Matrix

The still eerily youthful-looking Reeves, who's back in theaters Friday in the third installment of the blockbuster John Wick franchise, has become a brand unto himself, the name "Keanu" signifying not just movie stardom but also a certain kind of performance and even a state of mind: chill, zen, blissfully checked out ("Sad Keanu" meme notwithstanding). His name—which has lent itself to a comedy about a cat and a recent hit song by Logic, and which of course a studio exec wanted him to change when he first came to Hollywood—does mean "cool breeze over the mountains" in Hawaiian, after all.

But still waters run deep, and despite being in the public eye for more than 30 years, he's one of the least-known people whose chiseled face you would recognize anywhere. Few play it as close to the vest as Reeves, who, though he does the occasional interview and shows up to fulfill his side of the bargain in promoting his films, does not talk about his personal life. And not in the way that most celebrities don't really talk about their personal lives.

As in, it's entirely unclear if he even has one, although—look at him—he must.

"I came to Hollywood to be in movies," Reeves told Parade recently. "I feel really grateful that I've had that opportunity, but I'm just a private person, and it's nice that can still exist."

He doesn't even publicize his charity work, but his causes include children's hospitals, fighting cancer, the arts and the environment. 

"I always find it surreal that complete strangers come up and ask me personal questions," he told Parade back in 2008. "I don't mind speaking about work, but when the talk turns to 'Who are you?' and 'What do you do off-screen?' I'm like, 'Get out of here.' I've been in situations where people have felt they had a relationship with me or something and I didn't even know who they were."

Not that Reeves is an anti-star. He lives in the hills above West Hollywood, spent plenty of time enjoying the local nightlife in his youth and has starred in countless quotable action movies—and gets paid handsomely for them, enough so that he can take off and do passion projects like his first (and only, to date) directorial effort, 2013's The Man of Tai Chi, or show up unheralded on a Swedish sitcom (Swedish Dicks, now on Pop) or in any indie film he so desires, like the recent Destination Wedding, an acerbic comedy that reteamed him with Bram Stoker's Dracula co-star Winona Ryder.

He's perfectly congenial yet usually looks somewhat serious, but not because he's taking himself seriously—more as if he wants to answer even the most lighthearted of questions with respectful gravity. But hey, as Stephen Colbert just found out, if you ask Reeves a potentially loaded question, prepare to get an answer.

Asked by Parade in 2008 if he believed in aliens, because he was playing the alien Klaatu in a remake of The Day the Earth Stood Still, he replied, "Some days I do. Some days I don't. There's so much unexplained and unexplainable phenomena that's presented to us. But beyond that, the cosmos is so vast. We can't be the only sentient entity. It might not look like us, but it's going to be out there."

His signature Keanu cadence used to be mistaken for a sign of vacuity, but Reeves attributed however he came off in interviews to his overall discomfort with talking about himself.

"I've never played stupid to keep someone distant," he told Vanity Fair in 1995. "I don't play stupid. Either it's been a failure on my part to articulate, or my naivete, or ingenuousness, or sometimes it's the nature of the form... And you know, I find myself more able to give an explanation of a project five years later than in the middle of it. It's so present-tense! I can tell you how I feel, but its context is harder to explain... Sometimes when I'm interviewed I'm not ready to do that. So you say...'excellent!' And you know what, man? It's OK."

It certainly was.

Ted Theodore Logan, Johnny Utah, Jack Travern, Neo, John Wick: all characters that had to be played by Reeves. He's done everything from Shakespeare to sports flicks to A Scanner Darkly, and soon you'll be hearing his voice as Duke Caboom, a motorcycle-riding stuntman with a wistful backstory, in Toy Story 4, which will probably sneak in to top The Matrix Reloaded, which made $742 million worldwide, as his single highest-grossing movie.

"So I made Duke a little more gravelly but still tried to give him energy and a big personality," Reeves shared with Entertainment Weekly in March. "I just thought that Duke should love what he does. He's the greatest stuntman in Canada! I wanted him to be constantly doing poses on the bike while he was talking, to have this great extroverted passion."

He turned down Speed 2 to play Hamlet onstage in Canada. He was one of the first big stars who memorably jammed on the side with his own band, Dogstar, in the '90s and now he co-owns a custom bike shop called ARCH Motorcycle in Hawthorne, Calif, because he loves motorcycles as much as you think he does.

"Riding can be a place to think and feel. It's a way to work things out," he recently told Parade, noting that inclement weather doesn't stop him. "I like riding in the rain. It's a little more sketchy." He rides mainly alone, but he and the ARCH crew cruise Pacific Coast Highway on Sunday mornings.

And if motorcycles provide one soul-soothing salve for Reeves, acting provides another.

"In acting, you're constantly discovering new feelings and thoughts and exposing yourself to them," he told Parade in 2008. "I guess it could be considered psycho-therapy. All I know is that, as an actor, I can tell you a story that you'll listen to. Maybe it won't just entertain you, it might also teach you something. I think film has the power to change your life if you want to let it.

Combine his real-life inscrutability with his is-it-genius-or-does-he-just-do-the-same-thing-every-time approach to acting, and he's become more myth than man—and that, too, is a huge part of his appeal. He's just so Keanu.

"I don't own a computer and I don't e-mail," he said in the 2008 

Parade

interview. "I'm fascinated by people who freak out when they don't get an instant response to an e-mail. It's like they expect as soon as they send an email to get the answer back and if they don't it's like awful. I just hope people won't totally lose the ability to write letters because it's a good way to communicate."

He preferred typewriters, Reeves said—and we can only hope he and Toy Story star Tom Hanks had a chance to talk about typewriters together.

"I only have good things to say about him," Swedish Dicks star Peter Stormare, who met Reeves doing Constantine in 2005, which led to the actor's role on his show, told GQ. "Once a year, we'll have a beer together and talk about life and things. He's very private. He leads his life the way he wants to lead it. And I guess it can be lonely sometimes. But I think he's just like me. There's a comfort in being alone sometimes, especially when you're working on something."

"We bonded over motorcycles, bass guitar, and Harold Pinter," Alex Winter, the Bill to his Ted, also told the magazine. "Reeves had a really good book collection."

Reeves was born in Beirut, to a Hawaiian father and English mother, but they divorced when he was about 2. Mom Patricia remarried in the US., but after that didn't work out she settled with a 7-year-old Keanu and his younger sister, Kim, who was born in Australia, in Toronto. Reeves reportedly hasn't spoken to his dad since he was 13. 

"We were latchkey kids," he told Esquire in 2017. "It was basically 'leave the house in the morning and come back at night'. It was cool." But, he told Parade, "Even for a runaway English girl, my mother gave us a proper upbringing. We learned manners, respect for our elders, formal table settings. I also learned a nonprejudicial, nonjudgmental acceptance of other people."

His favorite part of school was doing plays and studying Shakespeare in English class, so he dropped out at 17 to try his hand at acting.

"My attendance record was very bad. I was lazy," Reeves told Vanity Fair. "I knew I wanted to act when I was halfway through grade 11, I guess, and school wasn't important."

His first acting job came on the Canadian series Hangin' In in 1984. Then he moved to Los Angeles and made his big-screen debut in the Rob Lowe-starring drama Youngblood in 1986. Later that year he won his first major role in the gritty teen crime drama River's Edge, which went on to win Best Feature at the Independent Spirit Awards.

So it was off to the races for Reeves, who in the next five years made a wildly diverse array of movies, including the very-'80s comedy The Night Before, Dangerous Liaisons, Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure (and its sequel, Bogus Journey), Parenthood, Point Break and My Own Private Idaho.

He was very much living the fast Hollywood life, and it wasn't all charmed.

In 1993, River Phoenix died of an accidental drug overdose—another painful thing Reeves didn't want to talk about, but he spoke fondly of his friend and My Own Private Idaho co-star.

"I enjoyed his company. Very much," Reeves told Rolling Stone in 2000. "And enjoyed his mind and his spirit and his soul. We brought good out in each other. He was a real original thinker. He was not the status quo. In anything."

As for Phoenix's death, "It's something he thinks about all the time, something he never really talks about," a friend told People. "Friends know not to go there with him."

In 1994 his estranged father, Samuel, was sentenced to 10 years in prison for drug possession in Hawaii, but was released in two. "Jesus, man. No, the story with me and my dad's pretty heavy. It's full of pain and woe and fucking loss and all that s--t," he told RS around that time. In 1995, he told Vanity Fair, when asked why he didn't want to know more about his dad's case, "Why would I want to find out what I didn't know?" He called the situation "pretty incredible," and that was that.

Reeves has a massive scar on his abdomen from when he suffered a rupture spleen in a motorcycle crash while riding in L.A.'s Topanga Canyon in 1988. He went into a hairpin turn going about 50 mph.

"I call that a demon ride," he reflected to Rolling Stone. "That's when things are going badly. But there's other times when you go fast, or too fast, out of exhilaration...I remember saying in my head, 'I'm going to die.'"

"I remember calling out for help," he continued. "And someone answering out of the darkness, and then the flashing lights of an ambulance coming down. This was after a truck ran over my helmet. I took it off because I couldn't breathe, and a truck came down. I got out of the way, and it ran over my helmet."

Also while his star was on the rise, his sister Kim battled cancer for years starting in the late '80s. "He helped me through," she told Vanity Fair about her brother. "When the pain got bad, he used to hold my hand and keep the bad man from making me dance. He was there all the time, even when he was away."

Actor and Dogstar bandmate Roger Mailhouse told Rolling Stone about Reeves in 2000, "He's a really giving person. He'd give you his last shoe. Really smart, too. He's incredibly booksmart. He's a really interesting person who doesn't talk a lot of s--t."

Asked how his friend had changed over the past decade, i.e. the '90s, Mailhouse said, "I don't worry about him as much. I used to worry about him. Because I think of him as one of my best friends in the world, was he going to crash his motorcycle, or this or that. We did some wild things. I guess it's just growing up. I don't know—maybe it had something to do with River Phoenix, maybe. Losing someone close to him. But now I'm just proud of him. He's getting to do it the right way."

For years you'd be much more likely to see Kim or Patricia on Reeves' arm at a premiere or other big event—such as when he got a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 2005—than any girlfriend, and the actor hasn't been publicly involved with anyone for years.

Not that he hasn't been linked to a bevy of his co-stars, including Sandra Bullock and Charlize Theron, but if he's in a serious relationship, it's not with a celebrity.

On The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon in 2013 he was wearing what anyone would take for a wedding band on his left ring finger, but no revelations ever sprang from that accessory choice.

When Parade asked recently if he remained a bachelor, Reeves replied (squirming a bit, according to the magazine), "Well, I'm not married."

Through the interviews he's given over the years, a theme running through them is the visible discomfort he starts to evince when the conversation veers toward the too-personal. And some topics are just off-limits altogether.

Reeves started dating actress Jennifer Syme after meeting her at a party in 1998 and they were expecting a baby together—but the child, a girl they named Ava, was stillborn at 8 months. They laid her to rest in January 2000, according to People, and broke up weeks later.

Read

Sandra Bullock Almost Starred in The Matrix Instead of Keanu Reeves

They remained close up until Syme, who suffered from severe postpartum depression, died in 2001 when she crashed her Jeep Cherokee into several parked cars on a L.A. street and was thrown from the vehicle. In 2002, her mother, Maria St. John, sued Marilyn Manson, who had thrown a party that Syme attended that night, for wrongful death, alleging he had given Syme  the cocaine that an autopsy found in her system. 

"After Jennifer was sent home safely with a designated driver, she later got behind the wheel of her own car for reasons known only to her," Manson, who knew Syme through filmmaker David Lynch and had worked with her on Lost Highway, said in a statement.

The rocker continued, "This lawsuit, which is completely without merit, will not bring back Jennifer's life. It serves only to reopen the wounds and the pain felt by all who loved Jennifer. It is a pity that St. John sullies her own daughter's reputation by filing this baseless claim."

They reportedly reached a settlement out of court, but Manson maintained he had nothing to do with Syme taking drugs that night. 

Reeves has never spoken publicly about his relationship with Syme, which certainly fits right into how he was before, let alone since. But he grieved. And he eventually had something to say about that.

"I think, after loss, life requires an act of reclaiming," he told Parade in 2006. "You have to reject being overwhelmed. Life has to go on."

The actor continued, "Grief changes shape, but it never ends. People have a misconception that you can deal with it and say, 'It's gone, and I'm better.' They're wrong. When the people you love are gone, you're alone. I miss being a part of their lives and them being part of mine. I wonder what the present would be like if they were here—what we might have done together. I miss all the great things that will never be."

So he knew exactly what he was talking about when he told Colbert, "I know that the ones that love us will miss us."

Calling it "unfair" and "absurd," Reeves told

Parade

, "All you can do is hope that grief will be transformed and, instead of feeling pain and confusion, you will be together again in memory, that there will be solace and pleasure there, not just loss."

"Much of my appreciation of life has come through loss," he concluded. "Life is precious. It's worthwhile."

He said at the time that he would like to have a family, and reiterated the sentiment a couple years later, but Reeves told Esquire in 2017 with regards to "settling down": "I'm too… it's too late. It's over." Asked to clarify, he added, "I'm 52. I'm not going to have any kids."

Famous last words from a litany of 50-something men, and he was reminded of that. Reeves just said, "That's a whole other… But no. I'm glad to still be here."

"I'm every cliché," he continued. "F--king mortality. Ageing. I'm just starting to get better at it. Just the amount of stuff you have to do before you're dead. I'm all of the clichés, and it's embarrassing. It's all of them. It's just, 'Oh my God. OK. Where did the time go? How come things are changing? How much time do I have left? What didn't I do?' I'm trying to think of the line from the sonnet… 'And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er / The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan / Which I new pay as if not paid before.'"

"So, yeah," he added, reportedly with a smile. "I'm that guy."

In turn, Reeves can't help but come off as the solitary figure he so often plays in his films, from Constantine to The Matrix to John Wick. Heck, even Duke Caboom sounds a little melancholy.

At the same time, you're just as likely to see him in a romantic tear-jerker or a quirky comedy as a shoot-em-up. He's played heroes and hustlers, sweethearts and cruel villains, teachers and  slackers, doctors and lawyers.

"For me, it's just continuing to be able to work with great artists and tell stories that people enjoy," Reeves told Parade. "I was always hoping, even when I was young, that I could do different things," he says. "I'm really grateful for that. I'm

Though he had no idea John Wick would be such a hit, Reeves was in top form in the 2014 action extravaganza as a retired hit man who goes on a revenge spree after gangsters kill the beloved dog that was a gift from his late wife.

It made almost $89 million on a reported $20 million budget. Sequel time!

"You hope and you dream but the reality is even sweeter," he told E! News in 2017 about the first film's surprise success when he was promoting John Wick: Chapter 2. "It's great to be involved in a project that has so much affection."

Chapter 2 made $172 million worldwide.

Now back for John Wick: Chapter 3—Parabellum, Reeves has revealed that he started training heavily about three months before filming began to get back into dynamo shape, and he still goes whole-hog (or horse, in this movie's case) in the action sequences, right up until a car runs into him.

"I'll do some fight scenes and then John Wick will get hit by a car," Reeves explained to Colbert on The Late Show, "and that's Jackson Spidell, who's an amazing stuntman." Spidell has been Reeves' stunt double in all the John Wick movies. "He gets hit by the car, then I'll get up from the car, then I'll do a whole bunch more of, like, gun-fu and whatever, jujitsu, judo—and then, if I get thrown off something, Jackson does his thing."

Even more exciting for some fans, however, depending on whether you like your Keanu dark or more dude-like, is the news that he and Alex Winter are finally set to start shooting Bill & Ted Face the Music, the much-discussed follow-up to 1989's Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure and sequel Bill & Ted's Bogus Journey, which came out in 1991. The years-in-the-making comedy is tentatively due out in 2020.

And so on his latest press tour, Keanu Reeves left his usual trail of breadcrumbs. They may not lead you straight to his door, but they'll definitely keep you on the path.

#keanu reeves #Inside Keanu Reeves' Inscrutable Private World-Tragedy Motorcycles and Epic Movie Stardom

[wevegottogetaway]

A Meaning of Love

It’s been barely two months since Harry and y/n moved in together, and yet, they feel like they’ve never seen less of each other before. The past few busy weeks have forced their routine into a high tempo of quick morning encounters, even quicker lunch break phone calls and countless half-asleep take-out dinners (few nights ago, y/n had been that close to face-plant in her soup had Harry not tenderly rubbed her back and urged her to ‘finish your soup, love, befo’ I take yeh to bed’). 

By the time Friday finally rolls around, they are still both swamped in unfinished projects and boring paperwork that nobody really wants to sort out but that has reached its procrastination limit expiry date. And the worst is, even in the midst of this perpetual race against time, they still find some to miss each other and yearn for a quiet and relaxing evening.

Looking at the fancy clock in her office, y/n realizes it’s 7:26pm and she’s the only remaining worker on her floor (or probably all of them for that matter). Her head is throbbing and she has to read every sentence of the manuscript in her hands at least 3 times in order to get even the most remote idea of its meaning. 

Exhausted, she dejectedly throws the document back on her desk before leaning back in her chair and harshly rubbing her face with her hands. She finds herself thinking of Harry, counting how long it has been since they last shared a couple-y moment. She just misses it. The intimacy. The idle talk, the deep conversations, the laughter, the cooking sessions, the movie marathons, the other kind of marathons…just the time to share and simply be together. Recently, it’s been all about coordinating their schedule to the best time-efficiency possible and she absolutely loathes it. 

‘Fuck that’ she thinks as she starts gathering her stuff. When she’s done saving her work and turning off the computer, she makes her way to the elevator while pulling out her cellphone. In a matter of minutes she’s ordered food from Harry’s favorite place and is already on her way to pick it up. The frown previously etched on her face is finally morphing into a soft smile. She just wants to spend a casual evening with him, make him feel better after the hectic week they’ve had and maybe convince him to prolong said plan throughout the week-end too. 

Still at the studio, Harry thinks he’s gonna lose his last hanging nerve if he doesn’t figure out what in hell is missing in the bridge of his new song. It’s 7:35pm and he’s been playing the damn thing since 8 this morning but nothing’s working. The pressure and the fatigue have rendered him inspiration-less and simply left him in a slump. His head feels fuzzy, his thoughts are jumbled and no matter how much he puts his all in it, he knows nothing creative can spring out from stress and sleep deprivation. So he pauses the audio and turns to his fellow songwriters/musicians with a sigh. "Sorry guys, think we should call it a day. My brain’s fried anyway."

They all nod and make their way outside of the studio after sorting everything out. "Don’t worry, man, we’re gonna figure this out. It’s probably best we stopped now anyway, it’ll give us a fresh perspective coming Monday." Mitch tries to reassure his friend. 

"Hope so, yeah. I don’t know, I just…Righ' now, I just wanna go home an’ clear my head of everythin’."

"You’re right, it’s getting obsessive in there, and that’s never a good way to make music. ’S gotta be more natural than whatever that was" he says pointing his thumb back towards the building they just left.

"’S not just that though. Things are a bit crazy at the moment, an’ it’s like…I miss y/n in a weird way, yeh know?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we just moved in together a few weeks back, right? But we barely see or have time fo’ each other. Her work’s keepin’ her busy as well...” It seems like he’s gonna add something so Mitch doesn’t interrupt his thoughts. “It’s like missing someone that is right next to you" Harry finally confides and it feels like some weight is being lifted off his shoulders with the confession. He’s been nurturing these longing feelings for a while now but had yet to express them out loud. 

"Tell ya what, Harry. It’s the week-end, take advantage of it, man.”

"Yeah, think ‘m gonna go get some food an’ maybe flowers. She’s been workin’ so hard lately, just wanna give ‘er a nice evening." It’s his turn to pick up dinner anyway Harry thinks, and there’s a flower shop right across from her favorite place. Maybe they could just take off for the week-end too. Go someplace tranquil and far away from the city’s hassle. 

That’s how half an hour later he’s finally pulling up on their street, take-away and sunflowers buckled in the passenger seat. Taking a long breath along with the rest of his purchases, Harry makes his way to the front door. When he finally enters their home, he’s immediately met with one of the most precious sight he could have hoped for: y/n in her sweats, humming to Here Comes the Sun as she gathers plates and cutleries to set the table. Harry feels already better and makes a bee line to his love with a wide smile adorning his lips. 

"‘lo, love. Missed yeh today."

She looks up at the sound of his voice. "Hey, you. How was your day?" But as she’s about to melt in his embrace, she realizes he’s carrying items of his own. "Wait, did you get dinner?" she asks somewhat worriedly. 

"Yep, I got yeh your favorite and these-" he hands her the bouquet, "are for you as well."

Now. When Harry imagined her reaction, he didn’t exactly picture y/n’s current expression. He’d thought maybe he’d be greeted with a ‘aww that’s so sweet’ hopefully followed by a kiss and the biggest hug in history. Or perhaps a blush creeping on her cheeks since y/n isn’t the best at receiving compliments and sweet gestures (getting her all flustered has become Harry’s favorite hobby ever since he realized that).

What he didn’t anticipate however, is the mystical look in y/n’s shiny eyes right now, like she was processing a hundred thoughts per second. She isn’t saying anything either. Just staring at him with love and wonder painting her irises. 

"Love?" Harry tilted his head slightly on the side in sign of inquiry. Then y/n just chuckled and took his cheeks between her small hands, completely bypassing the bouquet and take-out still hanging from his fingers.

"Thought it was my turn to get dinner," she smiled at the qui pro quo. "I got you your favorite too. And some poppies." That’s when Harry noticed the bag with his favorite restaurant logo printed on it, seating on the kitchen counter besides a vase full of freshly cut poppies (his favorite as well). 

Aligning his gaze back with hers, Harry awkwardly shifts around to place the food and the flowers on the counter by their side before engulfing y/n in a tight hug. His smile has grown tenfold and as he presses his forehead against hers, he thinks he couldn’t possibly fall deeper in love with her. So without further ado, he traps her lips between his and brings one hand to her neck. The kiss starts slow, eyes shut and hearts on the edge of imploding, savoring the moment. But then a small whine leaves y/n’s throat and it’s teeth colliding, breathed interweaving in-between, nose smudged against each other, and fingers kneading into heated skin. 

The break is sudden and filled with their erratic breathing. It’s the ridicule of the situation that sends them laughing: both of them buying dinner, the result of a simple miscommunication. It’s an honest mistake really, they’ll just reheat the second take-out tomorrow. But it’s also both of them going out of their way, out of their exhaustion to get something special for the other. The desire to make a little gesture because days are rough and as a team they get through that by uniting moral support forces. It’s the intimacy y/n was craving so much. The small details Harry knows about her and she about him, and the fact that even through the madness of it all, they always seem to go back in sync.

"I miss you so much Harry" y/n finally says while tucking her nose in the crook of his neck. She just wants to feel as close to him as possible, breathe him in, and never let go. And really, Harry’s not complaining. He just squeezes her tighter against him and presses his lips on her forehead for a moment.

"I love you, y/n. How ‘bout no work this week-end, hum? Just yeh an’ me, wherever you wanna be" his lips are still brushing against her skin.

"Please," is what she answers before leaning back to stare at his pretty face with a soft smile. "I love you too." 

➪ Masterlist

Hey guys, hope you liked that little piece. It is actually inspired by a true story; a so highly stereotypically French one, that I had to edit it for narrative’s sake. If you care to hear about it (no offense taken if you don’t!), prepare yourself cause I’m about to drop some serious French cultural knowledge on you. 

There exists two ways one French fellow can eat a baguette: there’s the well-cooked team who likes it golden and crusty (like my Mum), and then there’s the not-so-cooked team who likes it soft all over (like my Dad). The basics being now established, we may proceed with the real story.

One time, both my Mum and Dad were having such a busy day that they forgot to agree on who would buy bread for dinner (I did warn you it would be awfully French). They ended up both buying some, laughing at the situation once they met at home. But see, now when my Dad recalls this — in appearance — insignificant moment of their lives, he says that in that moment they’d made love to each other. Because when they got ready to eat, they realized that my dad had bought a well-cooked baguette for my mum while she had bought a not-so-cooked one for my Dad. And yeah, my Dad can be a hopeless romantic sometimes but he’s kinda right, isn’t he? Love is about putting the other above ourselves and making them feel special with the little things like giving up your favorite type of something just so your significant other can have it their favorite way. 

Anyhow, sorry if I bored you with my story (it is 3:52am as I’m writing, if you need some kind of explanation), I just thought it was something sweet to share. Please tell me what you think, I’d love to hear from you!

Take care xx

#Harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #fluff #Harry styles #creative writing #short and sweet #please tell me what you think

[donnerpartyofone]

#2

LSD, and inevitably psilocybin, were not the only catalysts for my emotional evolution. Around the same time, I also took ketamine. During that general decade of my life, even though I hadn’t been very involved with mind-altering substances, the general idea of experience had become very important to me. This could mean anything from eating exotic delicacies like fermented fish guts and fried cod cum, to being walked on a leash out to bars in little more than a shibari harness. (Don’t ask, it wasn’t that cool...)  While I myself was (am) an inveterate coward, the people I looked up to were connoisseurs of the extreme, and I found my cheap little ways of emulating them. I was reading and re-reading and re-re-reading Ryu Murakami’s Ecstasy-Melancholia-Thanatos trilogy over and over again, and I think if I could have transformed myself into anyone, it would have been someone from one of those novels, a person who blended preternatural self-discipline with outrageous self-indulgence. So when drugs finally started to come into the picture for me, I readily accepted a dose of ketamine when I learned that it had to be injected. I had caring, brilliant friends who knew how to do it, and I knew I probably wouldn’t figure this out by myself at home, so I considered this a unique opportunity. I can’t say that I had any idea what ketamine would be like, but I don’t think I would have believed it if someone had tried to describe it to me. Very quickly after the injection, first I began to hear music, and then I entered another world. It was like being in a movie. Unlike a dream, I had full possession of my intellectual faculties, and yet I was in a totally different place. I had to ask myself, “Wait, how long have I been here? Has this...always been like this?” I couldn’t remember. The place I landed was like some sort of mass transit hub in a science-fiction film, massive and white, filled with computer screens. Eventually it turned into another place, a whole planet made up of little japanese one-room apartments. They were rendered in incredible detail, lived-in, colorful, full of someone’s favorite books and records, clothing, art on the walls. Each of these little units was connected directly to another, this world was just a massive revolving and rotating network of them, like a giant Rubik’s Cube. It occurred to me that each of these little rooms were metaphorical representations of different situations in life, little atomistic experiences of restriction or freedom, pleasure or agony, boredom or delight, etc. I felt that outside of actual institutional imprisonment or physical violence, there is no reason a person should be trapped in any situation; you should be able to make up your mind and assert your will, to refuse to let anyone else control your life. By this time I had begun to remember that I was having a drug experience, and I wondered how I could be so comfortable and fearless, when it was so immersive. I couldn’t even see in physical world around me. It seemed like I should be panicking, and yet, it was impossible. It was pretty funny, actually. I began to play around with this, forcing myself to think about people and things that activate my anxiety in real life, and realizing that in here, I was unafraid of them. It made me feel like it was really up to me, what I’m afraid of in my life. I still use this recollection when I’m feeling angry and frustrated, to try to notice whether I’m allowing other people to keep me in situations I don’t like, or blaming them for things that I actually have the power to change on my own.

Further experiences with ketamine were even more science-fictional, entirely abstract and psychedelic, representing a universe way beyond the corporeal realm. But, in all cases, this substance seemed to push the reset button on my consistently mounting depression and anxiety, setting unpleasant items out on a dissection table for examination and disposal.

#the big story

[grigori77]

2018 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 1)

30.  MANDY – easily the weirdest shit I saw in 2018, this 2-hour-plus fever dream fantasy horror is essentially an extended prog-rock video with added “plot” from Beyond the Black Rainbow director Panos Cosmatos. Saying that by the end of it I was left feeling exhausted, brain-fried and more than a little weirded-out might not seem like much of a recommendation, but this is, in fact, a truly transformative viewing experience, a film destined for MASSIVE future cult status. Playing like the twisted love-child of David Lynch and Don Coscarelli, it (sort of) tells the story of lumberjack Red Miller (Nicolas Cage) and his illustrator girlfriend Mandy Bloom (Andrea Riseborough), who have an idyllic life in the fantastically fictional Shadow Mountains circa 1983 … at least until Mandy catches the eye of Jeremiah Sand (Linus Roache), the thoroughly insane leader of twisted doomsday cult the Children of the New Dawn, who employs nefarious, supernatural means to acquire her.  But Mandy spurns his advances, leading to a horrific retribution that spurs Red, a traumatised war veteran, to embark on a genuine roaring rampage of revenge.  Largely abandoning plot and motivation for mood, emotion and some seriously trippy visuals, this is an elemental, transcendental film, a series of deeply weird encounters and nightmarish set-pieces that fuel a harrowing descent into a particularly alien, Lovecraftian kind of hell, Cosmatos shepherding in one breathtaking sequence after another with the aid of skilled cinematographer Benjamin Loeb, a deeply inventive design team (clearly drawing inspiration from the artwork of late-70s/early 80s heavy metal albums) and a thoroughly tricked-out epic tone-poem of a score from the late Jôhan Jôhannsson (Sicario, Arrival, Mother!), as well as one seriously game cast.  Cage is definitely on crazy-mode here, initially playing things cool and internalised until the savage beast within is set loose by tragedy, chewing scenery to shreds like there’s no tomorrow, while Riseborough is sweet, gentle and inescapably DOOMED; Roach, meanwhile, is a thoroughly nasty piece of work, an entitled, delusional narcissist thoroughly convinced of his own massive cosmic importance, and there’s interesting support from a raft of talented character actors such as Richard Brake, Ned Dennehy and Bill Duke.  This is some brave, ambitious filmmaking, and a stunning breakthrough for one of the weirdest and most unique talents I’ve stumbled across a good while.  Cosmatos is definitely one to watch.

29.  THE GIRL IN THE SPIDER’S WEB – back in 2011, David Fincher’s adaptation of Stieg Larsson’s runaway bestseller The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo became one of my very favourite screen thrillers EVER, a stone-cold masterpiece and, in my opinion, the superior version of the story even though a very impression Swedish version had broken out in a major way the year before. My love for the film was coloured, however, by frustration at its cinematic underperformance, which meant that Fincher’s planned continuation of the series with Millennium Trilogy sequels The Girl Who Played With Fire and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest would likely never see the light of day. Even so, the fan in me held out hope, however fragile, that we might just get lucky.  Seven years later, we have FINALLY been rewarded for our patience, but not exactly in the fashion we’ve been hoping for … Fincher’s out, Evil Dead-remake and Don’t Breathe writer-director Fede Alvarez is in, and instead of continuing the saga in the logical place the makers of this new film chose the baffling route of a “soft reboot” via adapting the FOURTH Millennium book, notable for being the one released AFTER Larsson’s death, penned by David Lagercrantz, which is set AFTER the original Trilogy. Thing is, the actually end result, contrary to many opinions, is actually pretty impressive – this is a leaner, more fast-paced affair than its predecessor, a breathless suspense thriller that rattles along at quite a clip as we’re drawn deeper into Larsson’s dark, dangerous and deeply duplicitous world and treating fans to some top-notch action sequences, from a knuckle-whitening tech-savvy car chase to a desperate, bone-crunching fight in a gas-filled room.  Frustratingly, the “original” Lisbeth Salander, Rooney Mara, is absent (despite remaining VERY enthusiastic about returning to the role), but The Crown’s Claire Foy is almost as good – the spiky, acerbic and FIERCELY independent prodigious super-hacker remains as brooding, socially-awkward, emotionally complex and undeniably compelling as ever, the same queen of screen badasses I fell in love with nearly a decade ago.  Her investigative journalist friend/occasional lover Mikael Blomkvist is, annoyingly, less well served – Borg Vs McEnroe star Sverrir Gudnasson is charismatic and certainly easy on the eyes, but he’s FAR too young for the role (seriously, he’s only a week older than I am) and at times winds up getting relegated to passive observer status when he’s not there simply to guide the plot forward; we’re better served by the supporting cast, from Lakeith Stanfield (Get Out, Sorry to Bother You) as a mysterious NSA security expert (I know!) to another surprisingly serious turn (after Logan) from The Office’s Stephen Merchant as the reclusive software designer who created the world-changing computer program that spearheads the film’s convoluted plot, and there’s a fantastically icy performance from Blade Runner 2049’s Sylvia Hoeks as Camilla Salander, Lisbeth’s estranged twin sister and psychopathic head of the Spiders, the powerful criminal network once controlled by their monstrous father (The Hobbit’s Mikael Persbrandt).  The film is far from perfect – the plot kind runs away with the story at times, while several supposedly key characters are given frustratingly little development or screen-time – but Alvarez keeps things moving along with typical skill and precision and maintains a tense, unsettling atmosphere throughout, while there are frequently moments of pure genius on display in the script by Alvarez, his regular collaborator Jay Basu and acclaimed screenwriter Steven Knight (Dirty Pretty Things, Locke) – the original novel wasn’t really all that great, but by just taking the bare bones of the plot and crafting something new and original they’ve improved things considerably.  The finished product thrills and rewards far more than it frustrates, and leaves the series in good shape for continuation.  With a bit of luck this time it might do well enough that we’ll finally get those other two movies to plug the gap between this and Fincher’s “original” …

28.  ISLE OF DOGS – I am a MASSIVE fan of the films of Wes Anderson.  Three share placement in my all-time favourite screen comedies list – Grand Budapest Hotel, The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou and, of course, The Royal Tenebaums (which perches high up in my TOP TEN) – and it’s always a pleasure when a new one comes out.  2009’s singular stop-motion gem Fantastic Mr Fox showed just how much fun his uniquely quirky sense of humour and pleasingly skewed world-view could be when transferred into an animated family film setting, so it’s interesting that it took him nearly a decade to repeat the exercise, but the labour of love is writ large upon this dark and delicious fable of dystopian future Japanese city Megasaki, where an epidemic of “dog flu” prompts totalitarian Mayor Kobayashi (voiced by Kunichi Nomura) to issue an edict banishing all of the city’s canine residents to nearby Trash Island. Six months later, Kobayashi’s nephew Atari (newcomer Koyu Rankin) steals a ridiculously tiny plane and crash-lands on Trash Island, intent on rescuing his exiled bodyguard-dog Spots (Liev Schreiber); needless to say this is easier said than done, unforeseen circumstances leading a wounded Atari to enlist the help of a pack of badass “alpha dogs” voiced by Anderson regulars – Rex (Edward Norton), King (Bob Balaban), Boss (Bill Murray) and Duke (Jeff Goldblum) – and nominally led by crabby, unrepentantly bitey stray Chief (Bryan Cranston), to help him find his lost dog in the dangerous wilds of the island.  Needless to say this is as brilliantly odd as we’ve come to expect from Anderson, a perfectly pitched, richly flavoured concoction of razor sharp wit, meticulously crafted characters and immersive beauty.  The cast are, as always, excellent, from additional regulars such as Frances McDormand, Harvey Keitel and F. Murray Abraham to new voices like Greta Gerwig, Scarlett Johansson, Ken Watanabe and Courtney B. Vance, but the film’s true driving force is Cranston and Rankin, the reluctant but honest relationship that forms between Chief and Atari providing the story with a deep, resonant emotional core.  The first rate animation really helps – the exemplary stop-motion makes the already impressive art of Mr Fox seem clunky and rudimentary (think the first Wallace & Gromit short A Grand Day Out compared to their movie Curse of the Were-Rabbit), each character rendered with such skill they seem to be breathing on their own, and Anderson’s characteristic visual flair is on full display, the Japanese setting lending a rich, exotic tang to the compositions, especially in the deeply inventive environs of Trash Island.  Funny, evocative, heartfelt and fiendishly clever, this is one of those rare screen gems that deserves to be returned to again and again, and it’s definitely another masterpiece from one of the most unique filmmakers working today.

27.  VENOM – when Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man saga came to a rather clunky end back in 2007, it felt like a case of too many villains spoiling the rumble, and it was pretty clear that the inclusion of bad-boy reporter Eddie Brock and his dark alter ego was the straw that broke that particular camel’s back.  Venom didn’t even show up proper until almost three quarters of the way through the movie, by which time it was very much a case of too-little-too-late, and many fans (myself included) resented the decidedly Darth Maul-esque treatment of one of the most iconic members of Marvel’s rogues’ gallery.  It’s taken more than a decade for Marvel to redress the balance, even longer than with Deadpool, and, like with the Merc With a Mouth, they decided the only way was a no-holds-barred, R-rated take that could really let the beast loose. Has it worked?  Well … SORT OF.  In truth, the finished article feels like a bit of a throwback, recalling the pre-MCU days when superhero movies were more about pure entertainment without making us think too much, just good old-fashioned popcorn fodder, but in this case that’s not a bad thing.  It’s big, loud, dumb fun, hardly a masterpiece but it does its job admirably well, and it has one hell of a secret weapon at its disposal – Tom Hardy. PERFECTLY cast as morally ambiguous underdog investigative journalist Eddie Brock, he deploys the kind of endearingly sleazy, shit-eating charm that makes you root for him even when he acts like a monumental prick, while really letting rip with some seriously twitchy, sometimes downright FEROCIOUS unhinged craziness once he becomes the unwilling host for a sentient parasitic alien symbiote with a hunger for living flesh and a seriously bad attitude.  This is EASILY one of the best performances Hardy’s ever delivered, and he entrances us in every scene, whether understated or explosive, making even the most outlandish moments of Brock’s unconventional relationship with Venom seem, if not perfectly acceptable, then at least believable.  He’s ably supported by Michelle Williams as San Francisco district attorney Anne Weying, his increasingly exasperated ex-fiancée, Rogue One’s Riz Ahmed as Carlton Drake, the seemingly idealistic space-exploration-funding philanthropist whose darker ambitions have brought a lethal alien threat to Earth, and Parks & Recreation’s Jenny Slate as Drake’s conflicted head scientist Nora Skirth, while there’s a very fun cameo from a particularly famous face in the now ubiquitous mid-credits sting that promises great things in the future.  Director Ruben Fleischer brought us Zombieland and 30 Minutes Or Less, so he certainly knows how to deliver plenty of blackly comic belly laughs, and he brings plenty of seriously dark humour to the fore, the rating meaning the comedy can get particularly edgy once Venom starts to tear up the town; it also fulfils the Marvel prerequisite of taking its action quota seriously, delivering a series of robust set-pieces (the standout being a spectacular bike chase through the streets of San Fran, made even more memorable by the symbiote’s handy powers). Best of all, the film isn’t afraid to get genuinely scary with some seriously nasty alien-induced moments of icky body horror, captured by some strangely beautiful effects works that brings Venom and his ilk to vivid, terrifying life.  Flawed as it is, this is still HUGE fun, definitely one of the year’s biggest cinematic guilty pleasures, and I for one can’t wait to see more from the character in the near future, which, given what a massive success the film has already proven at the box office, seems an ironclad certainty.

26.  SOLO: A STAR WARS STORY – the second of Disney’s new phase of Star Wars movies to feature in the non-trilogy-based spinoff series had a rough time after its release – despite easily recouping its production budget, it still lost the $100-million+ it spent on advertising, while it was met with extremely mixed reviews and shunned by many hardcore fans.  I’ll admit that I too was initially disappointed with this second quasi prequel to A New Hope (after the MUCH more impressive Rogue One), but a second, more open-minded viewing after a few months to ruminate mellowed my experience considerably, the film significantly growing on me.  An origin story for the Galaxy’s most lovable rogue was always going to be a hard sell – Han Solo is an enjoyable enigma in The Original Trilogy, someone who lives very much in the present, his origins best revealed in the little details we glean about him in passing – but while it’s a flawed creation, this interstellar heist adventure mostly pulls off what was intended.  Like many fans of The Lego Movie, I remain deeply curious about what original director duo Phil Lord and Chris Miller could have achieved with the material, but I wholeheartedly approved Disney’s replacement choice when he was announced – Ron Howard is one of my favourite “hit-and-miss” directors, someone who’s made some clunkers in his time (The Da Vinci Code, we’re looking at you) but can, on a good day, be relied on to deliver something truly special (Willow is one of my VERY FAVOURITE movies from my childhood, one that’s stood up well to the test of time, and a strong comparison point for this; Apollo 13 and Rush, meanwhile, are undeniable MASTERPIECES), and in spite of its shortcomings I’m ultimately willing to consider this one of his successes. Another big step in the right direction was casting Hail, Caesar! star Alden Ehrenreich in the title role – Harrison Ford’s are seriously huge shoes to fill, but this talented young man has largely succeeded.  He may not quite capture that wonderful growling drawl but he definitely got Han’s cocky go-getter swagger right, he’s particularly strong in the film’s more humorous moments, and he has charisma to burn, so he sure makes entertaining viewing.  It also helps that the film has such a strong supporting cast – with original Chewbacca Peter Mayhew getting too old for all this derring-do nonsense, former pro basketball-player Joonas Suotamo gets a little more comfortable in his second gig (after The Last Jedi) in the “walking carpet” suit, while Woody Harrelson adds major star power as Tobias Beckett, Han’s likeably slippery mentor in all things criminal in the Star Wars Universe, and Game of Thrones’ Emilia Clarke is typically excellent as Han’s first love Qi’ra, a fellow Corellian street orphan who’s grown up into a sophisticated thief of MUCH higher calibre than her compatriots.  The film is dominated, however, by two particularly potent scene-stealing turns which make you wonder if it’s really focused on the right rogue’s story – Community star Donald Glover exceeds all expectations as Han’s old “friend” Lando Calrissian, every bit the laconic smoothie he was when he was played by Billy Dee Williams back in the day, while his droid companion L3-37 (voiced with flawless comic skill by British stage and sitcom actress Phoebe Waller-Bridge) frequently walks away with the film entirely, a weirdly flirty and lovably militant campaigner for droid rights whose antics cause a whole heap of trouble.  The main thing the film REALLY lacks is a decent villain – Paul Bettany’s oily kingpin Dryden Voss is distinctive enough to linger in the memory, but has criminally short screen-time and adds little real impact or threat to the main story, only emphasising the film’s gaping, Empire-shaped hole.  Even so, it’s still a ripping yarn, a breathlessly exciting and frequently VERY funny space-hopping crime caper that relishes that wonderful gritty, battered old tech vibe we’ve come to love throughout the series as a whole and certainly delivers on the action stakes – the vertigo-inducing train heist sequence is easily the film’s standout set-piece, but the opening chase and the long-touted Kessel Run impress too – it only flags in the frustrating and surprisingly sombre final act.  The end result still has the MAKINGS of a classic, and there’s no denying it’s also more enjoyable and deep-down SATISFYING than the first two films in George Lucas’ far more clunky Prequel Trilogy.  Rogue One remains the best of the new Star Wars movies so far, but this is nothing like the disappointment it’s been made out to be.

25.  AQUAMAN – the fortunes of the DC Extended Universe cinematic franchise continue to fluctuate – these films may be consistently successful at the box office, but they’re a decidedly mixed bag when it comes to their quality and critical opinion, and the misses still outweigh the hits.  Still, you can’t deny that when they DO do things right, they do them VERY right – 2017’s acclaimed Wonder Woman was a long-overdue validation for the studio, and they’ve got another winner on their hands with this bold, brash, VERY ballsy solo vehicle for one of the things that genuinely WORKED in the so-so Justice League movie.  Jason Momoa isn’t just muscular in the physical sense, once again proving seriously ripped in the performance capacity as he delivers rough, grizzled charm and earthy charisma as half-Atlantean Arthur Curry, called upon to try and win back the royal birthright he once gave up when his half-brother Prince Orm (Watchmen’s Patrick Wilson), ruler of Atlantis, embarks on a brutal quest to unite the seven underwater kingdoms under his command in order to wage war on the surface world.  Aquaman has long been something of an embarrassment for DC Comics, an unintentional “gay joke” endlessly derided by geeks (particularly cuttingly in the likes of The Big Bang Theory), but in Momoa’s capable hands that opinion has already started to shift, and the transition should be complete after this – Arthur Curry is now a swarthy, hard-drinking alpha male tempered with a compellingly relatable edge of deep-seeded vulnerability derived from the inherent tragedy of his origins and separation from the source of his immense superhuman strength, and he’s the perfect flawed action hero for this most epic of superhero blockbusters.  Amber Heard is frequently as domineering a presence as Atlantean princess Mera, a powerful warrior in her own right and fully capable of heading her own standalone adventure someday, and Wilson makes for a very solid and decidedly sympathetic villain whose own motivations can frequently be surprisingly seductive, even if his methods are a good deal more nefarious, while The Get Down’s Yahya Abdul-Mateen II is more down-and-dirty BAD as David Kane, aka the Black Manta, a lethally tech-savvy pirate who has a major score to settle with the Aquaman; there’s also strong support from the likes of Willem Dafoe as Curry’s sage-like mentor Vulko, Dolph Lundgren as Mera’s father, King Nereus, the ever-reliable Temuera Morrison as Arthur’s father Thomas, and Nicole Kidman as his ill-fated mother Atlanna.  Director James Wan is best known for establishing horror franchises (Saw, Insidious, The Conjuring), but he showed he could do blockbuster action cinema with Fast & Furious 7, and he’s improved significantly with this, delivering one gigantic action sequence after another with consummate skill and flair as well as performing some magnificent and extremely elegant world-building, unveiling dazzling, opulent and exotic undersea civilizations that are the equal to the forests of Pandora in Avatar, but he also gets to let some of his darker impulses show here and there, particularly in a genuinely scary visit to the hellish world of the Trench and its monstrous denizens.  It may not be QUITE as impressive as Wonder Woman, and it still suffers (albeit only a little bit) from the seemingly inherent flaws of the DCEU franchise as a whole (particularly in yet another overblown CGI-cluttered climax), but this is still another big step back in the right direction, one which, once again, we can only hope they’ll continue to repeat.  I’ll admit that the next offering, Shazam, doesn’t fill me with much confidence, but you never know, it could surprise us.  And there’s still Flashpoint, The Batman and Birds of Prey to come …

24.  THREE BILLBOARDS OUTSIDE EBBING, MISSOURI – filmmaker brothers Martin and John Michael McDonagh have carved an impressive niche in cinematic comedy this past decade, from decidedly Irish breakout early works (In Bruges from Martin and The Guard and Calvary from John) to enjoyable outsider-looking-in American crim-coms (Martin’s Seven Psychopaths and John’s War On Everyone), and so far they’ve all had one thing in common – they’re all BRILLIANT.  But Martin looks set to be the first brother to be truly accepted into Hollywood Proper, with his latest feature garnering universal acclaim, massive box office and heavyweight Awards recognition, snagging an impressive SEVEN Oscar nominations and taking home two, as well as landing a Golden Globe and BAFTA for Best Picture.  It’s also the most thoroughly AMERICAN McDonagh film to date, and this is no bad thing, Martin shedding his decidedly Celtic flavours for an edgier Redneck charm that perfectly suits the material … but most important of all, from a purely critical point of view this could be the very BEST film either of the brothers has made to date.  It’s as blackly comic and dark-of-soul as we’d expect from the creator of In Bruges, but there’s real heart and tenderness hidden amongst the expletive-riddled, barbed razor wit and mercilessly observed, frequently lamentable character beats.  Frances McDormand thoroughly deserved her Oscar win for her magnificent performance as Mildred Hayes, a take-no-shit shopkeeper in the titular town whose unbridled grief over the brutal rape and murder of her daughter Angela (Kathryn Newton) has been exacerbated by the seeming inability of the local police force to solve the crime, leading her to hire the ongoing use of a trio of billboards laying the blame squarely at the feet of popular, long-standing local police Chief Bill Willoughby (Woody Harrelson). Needless to say this kicks up quite the shitstorm in the town, but Mildred stands resolute in the face of seemingly overwhelming odds, refusing to back down.  McDormand has never been better – Mildred is a foul-mouthed, opinionated harpy who tells it like it is, no matter who she’s talking to, but there’s understandable pain driving her actions, and a surprisingly tender heart beating under all that thorniness; Harrelson, meanwhile, is by turns a gruff shit-kicker and a gentle, doting family man, silently suffering over his own helplessness with the dead end the case seems to have turned into.  The film’s other Oscar-winner, Sam Rockwell, also delivers his finest performance to date as Officer Jason Dixon, a true disgrace of a cop whose permanent drunkenness has marred a career which, it turns out, began with some promise; he’s a thuggish force-of-nature, Mildred’s decidedly ineffectual nemesis whose own equally foul-mouthed honesty is set to dump him in trouble big time, but again there’s a deeply buried vein of well-meaning ambition under all the bigotry and pigheadedness we can’t help rooting for once it reveals itself.  There’s strong support from some serious heavyweights, particularly John Hawkes, Caleb Landry Jones, Peter Dinklage, Abbie Cornish and Manchester By the Sea’s breakout star Lucas Hedges, while McDonagh deserves every lick of acclaim and recognition he’s received for his precision-engineered screenplay, peerless direction and crisp, biting dialogue, crafting a jet black comedy nonetheless packed with so much emotional heft that it’ll have you laughing your arse off but crying your eyes out just as hard.  An honest, unapologetic winner, then.

23.  RED SPARROW – just when you thought we’d seen the last of the powerhouse blockbuster team of director Francis Lawrence and star Jennifer Lawrence with the end of The Hunger Games, they reunite for this far more adult literary feature, bringing Jason Matthews’ labyrinthine spy novel to bloody life.  Adapted by Revolutionary Road screenwriter Justin Haythe, it follows the journey of Russian star ballerina Dominika Egorova (Lawrence) into the shadowy world of post-Glasnost Russian Intelligence after an on-stage accident ruins her career.  Trained to use her body and mind to seduce her targets, Dominika becomes a “Sparrow”, dispatched to Budapest to entrap disgraced CIA operative Nate Nash (Joel Edgerton) and discover the identity of the deep cover double agent in Moscow he was forced to burn his own cover to protect.  But Dominika never wanted any of this, and she begins to plot her escape, no matter the risks … as we’ve come to expect, Jennifer Lawrence is magnificent, her glacial beauty concealing a fierce intelligence and deeply guarded desperation to get out, her innate sensuality rendered clinical by the raw, unflinching gratuity of her training and seduction scenes – this is a woman who uses ALL the weapons at her disposal to get what she needs, and it’s an icy professionalism that informs and somewhat forgives Lawrence’s relative lack of chemistry with Edgerton.  Not that it’s his fault – Nate is nearly as compelling a protagonist as Dominika, a roguish chancer whose impulsiveness could prove his undoing, but also makes him likeable and charming enough for us to root for him too.  Bullhead’s Matthias Schoenarts is on top form as the film’s nominal villain, Dominika’s uncle Ivan, the man who trapped her in this hell in the first place, Charlotte Rampling is beyond cold as the “Matron”, the cruel headmistress of the Sparrow School, Joely Richardson is probably the gentlest, purest ray of light in the film as Dominika’s ailing mother Nina, and Jeremy Irons radiates stately gravitas as high-ranking intelligence officer General Vladimir Andreievich Korchnoi.  This is a tightly-paced, piano wire-taut thriller with a suitably twisty plot that constantly wrong-foots the viewer, Lawrence the director again showing consummate skill at weaving flawlessly effective narrative with scenes of such unbearable tension you’ll find yourself perched on the edge of your seat throughout.  It’s a much less explosive film than we’re used to from him – most of the fireworks are of the acting variety – but there are moments when the tension snaps, always with bloody consequences, especially in the film’s standout sequence featuring a garrotte-driven interrogation that turns particularly messy.  The end result is a dark thriller of almost unbearable potency that you can’t take your eyes off.  Here’s hoping this isn’t the last time Lawrence & Lawrence work together …

22.  WIDOWS – Steve McQueen is one of the most challenging writer-directors working in Hollywood today, having exploded onto the scene with hard-hitting IRA-prison-biopic Hunger and subsequently adding to his solid cache of acclaimed works with Shame and 12 Years a Slave, but there’s a strong argument to be made that THIS is his best film to date. Co-adapted from a cult TV-series from British thriller queen Lynda La Plante by Gone Girl and Sharp Objects-author Gillian Flynn, it follows a group of women forced to band together to plan and execute a robbery in order to pay off the perceived debt incurred by their late husbands, who died trying to steal $2 million from Jamal Manning (If Beale Street Could Talk’s Brian Tyree Henry), a Chicago crime boss with ambitions to go legit as alderman of the city’s South Side Precinct.  Viola Davis dominates the film as Veronica Rawlings, the educated and fiercely independent wife of accomplished professional thief Harry (a small but potent turn from Liam Neeson), setting the screen alight with a barely restrained and searing portrayal of devastating grief and righteous anger, and is ably supported by a trio of equally overwhelming performances from Michelle Rodriguez as hard-pressed mother and small-businesswoman Linda Perelli, The Man From UNCLE’s Elizabeth Debicki as Alice Gunner, an abused widow struggling to find her place in the world now she’s been cut off from her only support-mechanism, and Bad Times At the El Royale’s Cynthia Eriyo as Belle, the tough, gutsy beautician/babysitter the trio enlist to help them once they realise they need a fourth member.  Henry is a deceptively subtle, thoroughly threatening presence throughout the film as Manning, as is Get Out’s Daniel Kaluuya as his thuggish brother/lieutenant Jatemme, and Colin Farrell is seemingly decent but ultimately fatally flawed as his direct political rival, reigning alderman Jack Mulligan, while there are uniformly excellent supporting turns from the likes of Robert Duvall, Carrie Coon, Lukas Haas, Jon Bernthal and Kevin J. O’Connor.  McQueen once again delivers an emotionally exhausting and effortlessly powerful tour-de-force, wringing out the maximum amount of feels from the loaded and deeply personal human interactions on display throughout, and once again proves just as effective at delivering on the emotional fireworks as he is in stirring our blood in some brutal set-pieces, while Flynn help to deliver another perfectly pitched, intricately crafted script packed with exquisite dialogue and shrewdly observed character work which is sure to net her some major wins come Awards season.  Unflinching and devastating but thoroughly exhilarating, this is an extraordinary film (and if this was a purely critical list it would surely have placed A LOT higher), thoroughly deserving of every bit of praise, attention and success it has and will go on to garner.  An absolute must-see.

21.  JURASSIC WORLD: FALLEN KINGDOM – Colin Trevorrow’s long-awaited 2015 Jurassic Park sequel was a major shot in the arm for a killer blockbuster franchise that had been somewhat flagging since Steven Spielberg brought dinosaurs back to life for the second time, but (edgier tone aside) it was not quite the full-on game-changer some thought it would be.  The fifth film, directed by J.A. Bayona (The Impossible, A Monster Calls) and written by Trevorrow and his regular script-partner Derek Connolly (Safety Not Guaranteed and JW, as well as Warner Bros’ recent “Monsterverse” landmark Kong: Skull Island), redresses the balance – while the first act of the film once again returns to the Costa Rican island of Isla Nublar, it’s become a very different environment from the one we’ve so far experienced, and a fiendish plot-twist means the film then takes a major swerve into MUCH darker territory than we’ve seen so far.  Giving away anything more does a disservice to the series’ most interesting story to date, needless to say this is EASILY the franchise’s strongest feature since the first, and definitely the scariest.  Hollywood’s most unusual everyman action hero, Chris Pratt, returns as raptor wrangler Owen Brady, enlisted to help rescue as many dinosaurs as possible from an impending, cataclysmic volcanic eruption, but in particular his deeply impressive trained raptor Blue, now the last of her kind; Bryce Dallas Howard is also back as former Jurassic World operations manager turned eco-campaigner Claire Dearing, and her His Girl Friday-style dynamic with Pratt’s Brady is brought to life with far greater success here, their chemistry far more convincing because Claire has become a much more well-rounded and believably tough lady, now pretty much his respective equal.  There are also strong supporting turns from the likes of Rafe Spall, The Get Down’s Justice Smith, The Vampire Diaries/The Originals’ breakout star Daniella Pineda, the incomparable Ted Levine (particularly memorable as scummy mercenary Ken Wheatley) and genuine screen legend James Cromwell, but as usual the film’s true stars are the dinosaurs themselves – it’s a real pleasure seeing Blue return because the last velociraptor was an absolute treat in Jurassic World, but she’s clearly met her match in this film’s new Big Bad, the Indoraptor, a lethally monstrous hybrid cooked up in Ingen’s labs as a living weapon.  Bayona cut his teeth on breakout feature The Orphanage, so he’s got major cred as an accomplished horror director, and he uses that impressive talent to great effect here, weaving an increasingly potent atmosphere of wire-taut dread and delivering some nerve-shredding set-pieces, particularly the intense and moody extended stalk-and-kill stretch that brings the final act to its knuckle-whitening climax.  It’s not just scary, though – there’s still plenty of that good old fashioned wonder and savage beauty we’ve come to expect from the series, and another hefty dose of that characteristic Spielbergian humour (Pratt in particular shines in another goofy, self-deprecating turn, while Smith steals many of the film’s biggest laughs as twitchy, out-of-his-comfort-zone tech wizard Franklin).  Throw in another stirring and epic John Williams-channelling score from Michael Giacchino and this is an all-round treat for the franchise faithful and blockbuster fans in general – EASILY the best shape the series has been in for some time, it shows HUGE promise for the future.

#mandy #the girl in the spider's web #isle of dogs #venom #solo a star wars story #aquaman #three billboards movie #red sparrow #widows #jurassic world fallen kingdom #2018 in movies

[tashakay]

The Trick

I have fought most of my life with food cravings. I remember being a little girl, before age 10, Happy to get the big mac and fries and soda instead of the happy meal (which I imagine was given by accident by the Mickey D's clerk). I devoured the whole pile of food adjacent offerings. Toward the end of that meal the voice over of the adult in my life at time started and you better eat the whole thing because ain't nobody got time to be wasting money on you. That is one of the moments that I learned that food is a weapon. Not even 10.

Now, I am 53 and half years old. I am over 260 lbs and I am sitting at my computer wanting potato chips and Greek yogurt, which I use as a dip in place of sour cream. I do not want this food adjacent snack because I am hungry, because I am not. But I just want it. I want it to take me to a place of pleasure where I do not have to answer hard questions about why I am so unhealthy. I want to be transported to a place of pleasure where I do not have to be hurt by the injustice I have endured.

The other day I came up with another hashtag to describe me. #livingproof I realized that I am living proof that I can overcome. I am living proof that the troubles that were meant to destroy me did not. I am living proof that my ancestors were indeed alive. But what do I do with this beautiful realization? What do I do with the knowing that I made it this far? Now what do I do? I made it to the million dollar house and beautiful car. I made it to, I can do what I want to do. I made it to, wanting to help and being able to help. I am finding that I still want more. I want justice to be rendered for the injustice I have survived. I want to be healthy again. I want to make things that are beautiful. I want fix things and by fixing them make them better. I want living proof to show myself that I am worthy. I want to see for myself that I can do good things for me. I want this very expensive house to be a show stopper of a home.

Food satisfies me, however, it harms me. Because of the food and food adjacent things I have eaten over the past 40 years, I am close to death. I have really high blood pressure. I likely have diabetic destruction going on in my body. I have pain in my joints with nearly every move until I get moving. I have a weariness in chest that makes me think of my own death. And I have done this to myself.

I have cried and I have longed to make my own life better. I have had glimpses of health. I have seen myself in better health than I am now. However, when I approach better health I back away from it. I sense that there is a fear that I will reach this goal and I will not know what else to do with my time and my thoughts and my life.