#indigo's idiosyncrasies | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spell-cleaver · 4 years

Note

ok FINALLY prompting you for luke palpatine but: He hadn't known cold or dark like this before, but it felt like it would swallow him whole. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't see. All he could do was try desperately to regain control and not give in to his fear.

Previous parts on the masterpost here!

He hadn't known cold or dark like this before, but it felt like it would swallow him whole. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't see. All he could do was try desperately to regain control and not give in to his fear.

So he just took several more deep breaths, against the weight that tried to stop him. In, deeply; out, deeply. He imagined he was by the lakes of Naboo; at Varykino, beneath his tree, meditating. When he opened his eyes again, a wind stirred his hair and birds chirped in the branches above him.

Ahsoka was nowhere to be seen, but that was alright. He had company.

There was a storm out on the lake.

It was a thick, knotted black cloud, swirling and expanding with every moment. It grew and heaved and crackled with lightning, like something out of a holofilm about old time sea ships, the sound it gave off akin to nothing more than an ear-splitting howl, something that built more pressure, generated more static in the air, than the storm itself ever could.

Luke stared at it.

How was he supposed to beat that?

That wasn't a person! That was— that was a physical manifestation of everything evil in the galaxy. That was a representation of every wicked feeling every being on every star had ever experienced. That was a villain out of a children's story.

That was not Palpatine. That was not a person. That was his ghost, corrupted and chained and claimed by the dark side he'd wielded for so long.

How was he supposed to beat that?

Luke, he heard. He snapped his head up. Luke, I know you are in there.

He sucked in a breath. Clean, fresh countryside air rushed through him, clearing his head.

That was his father, speaking.

From... somewhere. Somehow, Luke still had control of his ears. Enough control to hear. Enough control to... feel... someone reaching out to him.

The tips of his fingers stung and tingled. He wondered why.

Luke.

The words reverberated down to his bones, enchanting the heavy summer day with wonder, with heaviness, with weight. With a sense of purpose, and urgency, and—

Pleading.

Love.

Devotion.

Come back to me.

He swallowed.

"I'll come back to you," he whispered.

Palpatine was still over the lake, growing and growing and growing. He was about to engulf Luke's precious haven—tendrils of his presence were snaking towards the beautiful, beautiful house, and wherever they touched the stonework blackened with soot and ash, the stones crumbling, the climbing vines and potted plants shrivelling where they stood.

No.

That was Luke's sanctuary.

That was his chosen home.

That was his strongest connection to his mother—

The next time a tendril lashed out, it burned with a light so bright it would've hurt to look at if Luke had physical eyes to see with. As it was, he stared into the glow—if lights made a noise this one would be shouting words to a crescendo no one understood—and stared back at the storm, which— who—

Who was staring right back at him.

He had been noticed, growing his little corner of existence into something strong enough to stand his ground on.

"You," hissed a voice that was older than time itself; the voice of the dark side, of sentient suffering. "You are still fighting."

"You're not someone I'll risk not fighting against."

The storm roared and shot towards him, but Luke was strong. Luke was powerful. He—

He was knocked off his feet.

The darkness rushed over him, glittering in its depths, like the remnants of all the stars it had consumed, and into him, a press a thousand times fiercer than the time he and Ahsoka had been swimming in the lake and the waves had slammed him back onto the beach, a thousand times more intense than the time Vader had nearly carved him to pieces. He couldn't breathe, the Lake Country had vanished into twisting shades of violet and indigo chaos around him, and he couldn't breathe—

He opened his eyes and stared through red-tinted vision to look a wrinkled, hooded white face in the eye. When he clenched his fists, they were prosthetics; when he breathed, the harsh sound of a respirator scraped at his ears.

Palpatine laughed.

No. This was Luke's mind. Luke's world. He clenched his fists tighter and leather gloves gave way to durasteel, then the flesh again and the biting pinprick of his nails against his palms sharpened the reality around him into something he could recognise—the room of that Star Destroyer where he had stayed on the tour of the Empire. The large, uniform rooms, that Nova had nonetheless bedecked in blues, greens and golds to make him feel far more at home there, the brightly embroidered cushions plopped on Imperial grey sofas.

The shadow was lingering behind the door to the corridor, he knew—the door Vader had always come through. Luke could feel its malignance, see it oozing underneath the door cracks.

But it could not enter.

Luke pushed at the door with his mind and it could not enter. This was a hollow Luke had scraped out within his existence that Palpatine's power could not breach; Luke was resisting, and it was working.

Luke could not resist a storm. A storm would've hammered down the door and blown them all to pieces. Nature was unstoppable—but then, the dark side was not nature, was it? It was just power.

The dark side was the opposite of nature.

It was not inevitable.

It was not eternal.

It was not right.

The door rattled where it was, but stayed firmly closed.

He walked straight for it.

Luke... please, little angel, if you can hear me...

"I hear you," he said firmly. "I HEAR YOU!"

He hit the button and opened the door.

There was a vortex behind it, glittering still, grinning even without a mouth. He was afraid. He was afraid. But he made sure not to flinch as he stared it down.

"You are not a shadow," he said. "Stop pretending to be one, and fight me like a man."

"I am more than a man," it hissed back. "I am something you will never understand."

"You are a man," Luke reiterated stubbornly. He'd been wrong.

Palpatine was not all the evil in the galaxy combined; the mere thought of defeating that gave him a headache that pounded like his blood through his veins, like his father's respirator, and the pain fed the nexus of the dark side before him.

Palpatine was not a force of nature.

He was not inevitable. He was wicked, and fed off hatred and suffering, like every Sith Lord throughout history had, perpetuating the awful misery from whence they came and triumphed. Luke had suffered under him. The galaxy had suffered under him.

But he was just a man.

No matter how long his shadow had been, no matter how dark. No matter how hopeless Luke had been under him; no matter how much he and the galaxy had put his image up on a pedestal; no matter how afraid of him Luke had been, always, for as long as he could remember.

He was just a man. He was, in fact, a dead man.

And Luke was more powerful than him.

"I will be a god—"

"You are a man. You are nothing." Luke smiled, and... walked towards Palpatine. Reached deep inside him the way Ahsoka had taught him and felt for the light, holding it in his hands before him like a shield. The shadow—manifesting into a humanoid shape more and more with every moment—scrambled to get away. "And you are about to be defeated by a boy."

The vortex consumed their surroundings. Luke was standing on nothing, in the middle of nothing but chaos, dark and depressing thoughts pressing at him from all angles—

And then he blinked, seized hold of himself and they shifted, and the violent dark hues manifested into far more familiar ground.

His quarters in the Imperial Palace.

He had never thought about it before, really. But these had not been his prince's quarters, nor had they been Palpatine's. Vader had had them prepared in a hurry from the moment he'd learned the truth, and their luxury was far beyond what Luke was accustomed to—fine sofas, fine rugs, fine tables. The art was tasteful, and Luke had been able to change it as he chose; the bathroom was so large for a small boy it was almost ridiculous; the study and library and bedroom and eating area and everywhere else in those quarters had been exquisitely seen to. And it had all been changed at his will when he'd awoken and started living in them, a real person with preferences and idiosyncrasies and opinions. Vader had put so much love into his care before they even knew each other, and...

And Luke took strength from it now.

Palpatine was standing in the middle of it all—Palpatine, not a storm. Not a torrent of power. Not an unbeatable shadow.

Amidst the bright colours and large displays of affection, he and his black robes looked very, very small.

When Luke looked at the table next to the sofa—the sofa Nova had cuddled next to him on, the sofa he'd fallen asleep on Vader on, the sofa he, Zev and Leia had watched Crown of Stars on—there was a lightsaber on it.

It was not a lightsaber he recognised.

That didn't matter.

"You've reached the end, Father," he spat, standing up straight. For the first time in his life, he felt tall.

Palpatine tried to regain his composure. "Have I?" he sneered.

Luke lifted his chin, eyed the lightsaber, and smiled.

"You have."

Send me the first sentence of a scene from this AU and I might continue it!

Beginning | Previous | Next

#the heir #luke palpatine #my writing #random words on a page #luke skywalker #sheev palpatine #!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

61 notes · View notes

ithinkthingsaboutstuff · 4 years

Text

Tip of the Iceberg

Did this for the Arkham Garlley Zine which is free to download here

or check them out at @arkhamgalleryzine

Oswald is preparing for a bi-annual auction at the iceberg lounge and is inconvenienced by the thrills and spills that gotham has to offer and is own mind. For a man who has control over everything, he has more under the surface.

By H.T.Vitols

Gotham is rather unique, in that most places with rotting infrastructure and corrupted governments don’t tend to lean so hard into that aesthetic, usually places like that tend to keep up a facade as to hide its own putrefaction, in a half-hearted attempt to delude anyone who comes across them that there are civilized. Gotham has never hidden how ugly it is, to a point that its almost beautiful in an ostentatious sort of way. Not to say that there is nothing alluring about Gotham, quite the opposite. Gotham has a way of claiming the hearts of many, sometimes literally, but the lost and forgotten can always find a home in Gotham, their still lost and forgotten but so is the city itself.

The Iceberg Lounge was the closest thing to elegant that Gotham had to offer. The outside was, and forgive the prosaism, Gothic. The doors where lined with white heavy steel and where shaped like umbrellas, if umbrellas were sharp, metallic and had an ominous amount of cleaning done. The doors themselves were wooden, polished and painted indigo blue. The doors were about 4 feet wide and were as strong as enforced steel which coincidentally was inside it, you could drive a car into it, and you would need a new car and a paint job for the door. The top of the door frame which was about 6 to 8 feet upward had a blue and white neon sign that spelled out the name of the club and blue lights that moved around the top of the roof, signalling, daring anyone to enter making an announcement to the police, the city and the Batman, I’m right here come and get me, if you can.

The inside of the lounge was far larger than the outside could have prepared anyone for, the ceilings were high, the main floor was laid out like a ballroom, with blue, purple and white lights slowly dancing across the floor as if they were patrolling lights, that most if not all the patrons were far to used to. The centre of the main room had as the name of the club suggests an Iceberg, it was a rather fitting piece of décor and not just because of the predilection, but also what could be a more apt metaphor for the men and women who dwell here, then a clandestine place that has a chilling and unstable piece at its core and the magnitude of how vacillating it truly is, is hidden under the surface.

There were purple curtains that lined all the walls of The Iceberg Lounge, what was behind them was anyone’s guess, a room, a door, an alarm, a wall, a way out, a way in, who’s to say. The Iceberg Lounge is home to many in Gotham, the bad, the slimy and the straight up crazy. It is a place to go and to hide, from whatever animal themed hero is on your ass that week. The Lounge is a strong hold and a neutral ground to any who enters.

No fights, No guns, No deaths.

These rules were enforced to the highest measure, not out of any moral obligation but simply to make things easier for business, after all, people are more willing to meet and make deals with you if they know within a reasonable assumption they are not going to be shot. This peace of mind comes with a small price though, any deal made in the lounge has a fee to go with it.

Negotiations: $100 (per person)

Trade-offs: $200

Drug deals: $400

Gun sales (unloaded): $1000 (per every 10)

If you were caught trying to make a deal in the Lounge without permission, well let’s just say no one ever does it twice. This level of meticulous control was possible due to the work and obsessions of one Oswald Cobblepot. The man thought rather highly of himself, more so then he should, which is easy to do when you are barely above most door handles and wider than some doorframes. Not to say he did not have class or rather his own definition of class, hand tailored suits all with tails, the most beautiful fabrics and of course a shining monocle that never left his face. And today Oswald donned an indigo blue jacket that had black fathers around his neck so today he looked more vulture then penguin. And in a place where a man with a rodent facade is more productive and less corruptible then the police department and the mayor’s office combined, being larger than life is not only common but a necessity. Oswald had many enemies, in fact if you weren't his enemy, he was less likely to trust you. Having enemies was more repute then having friends as he liked knowing what people wanted from him, it was easier to control the situation and easier to turn the situation in whatever suited him best.

Today, much like many other days, Oswald was in his office at his desk with a small glass of fine port wine at his side. Unlike many other days, he has not allowed anyone to disturb him (other than for an unexpected rodent infiltration). He wrote with a quill tip pen; the pen was white with a black line that matched up with a black swan feather that was connected by a small metal penguin pendent. He did not write with this pen often, as it was as impractical as it was beautiful. He only ever used this pen for one reason.

To my dearest, Penelope.

I write to you in good health, my dear I have been having a quite the week, however, I will not plague you with the details as I fear your heart or indeed your stomach may not be able to take them. However, my dear, what I can tell you is that today is a big night for the Lounge, for it is the Biannual Bat Bunker party. I do not believe I have told you the full story behind this party and that will be a story for another letter, but simply my dear, some years ago there was an incident, that lead to certain events, that lead to a great number of my associates to take refuge in my lounge, and since then it has become so what of a tradition for a rather long party to take place here twice a year.

The party is to be quite the sceptical and I do believe you would enjoy yourself, but I would not be much of a father if I allowed you to attend such a thing with the calibre of characters that indent to come. But any money is good money if you understand the price. Speaking of, Edward Nygma will be stopping by at some point before the party, I have mentioned him to you before, and as much as he can annoy me I can’t help but enjoy our conversations, for it is one of the rare times that learned discord is actually of value, though I could do without more of his foible, idiosyncrasy's.

As Oswald wrote at his desk, the door opened silently and a man walked in and slowly made his way to the desk, the man than sat on Oswald's desk and crossed his legs like he was a femme fatale from a noir film.

‘Oswald, how are you, you old bird, you.’

‘Edward, you better have a very good reason for disturbing me. Who let you in here?’

‘You’re working under the assumption that I would ask.’

‘Good point, but you also know my tolerances for your antics only goes so far.’

‘True, but since I’m still alive, safe to say I have not irritated you too much your lordship,’

‘Sarcasm is beneath you Edward.’

‘To hell it is, it’s one of my best survival instincts and I’ll have you know Oswald, the only things beneath me are invalids, the wilfully ignorant and my silk sheets when I lie my weary head to bed for most earnest of rests.’

‘Why don’t you put your vanity to bed for a moment Edward, and tell me, why exactly you have disturbed me.’

Edward clapped his hands together, his leather gloves gathering as he did.

‘Well, Oswald, I have come baring gifts, for our little shindig tonight,’

Edward pulled out a note from his pocket.

‘Here,’

‘What is this, Edward,’

‘A list of inventories, from all of our friends, the supplies and donations they will be making this evening.’

‘Well thank you Edward, but you could have had some else send this up to me.’

‘Oswald, I’m a praise whore and you know it.’

‘Yes, I’m aware of that, but that is no reason to interrupt me.’

‘Oh, come now, I came all the way out here to do you a favour and I’m treated with such hostility.’

‘Edward, my boy, you are very much aware that this is me, not being hostile, but if you would like to see it, then by all means, continue.’

Edward then slid off the desk and adjusted his jacket.

‘Very well, I will prepare myself for tonight's debauchery elsewhere.’

Edward went to the door.

‘Oswald,’

‘Yes, Edward.’

‘In all the years we’ve know one another, I have only seen you use that pen for one propose and yet I have never seen you read a letter in return,’

‘Your point, Edward.’

‘No point, just observation, I just don’t know why you still bother, if she’s never written back.’

‘Get… out… Edward.’

‘Alright, alright, I’m gone, give her my best.’

Oswald throws his glass of port at Edward as the door closed behind him, missing his head and shattering on the door. The wine dripped down the door slowly leaving a trail of red residue, like other red fluids that have dripped down this very door and will no doubt do again in the near future. Oswald leaned back into his chair and picked up his white and black pen.

Penelope dear, I sometimes envy that you have never meet any of my associates, Edward is one of the most insufferable men I have ever meet, and I have discussed politics with the mayor of Gotham. Not to say I don’t respect the man, in fact Edward’s capacity to anger anyone he comes into contact with has never failed to impress me. But charm and showmanship can be mutually exclusive my dear, as I know all too well.

Are you happy where you are dear?

I have found I can be content, but I have also found happiness is not on the cards for me without you here, Penelope.

In any case, I have been keeping myself busy. The list Edward handed me some moments ago will help with tonight’s proceedings, you see dear, the list is inventory being put up for auction. Now you must be wondering why this is of any importance, after all you are a clever girl and the Lounge has an auction monthly. This auction is a special one, you see unlike the usual fanfare that comes through here. This list has items that are more exclusive and the most sorted after then any other in the city, such as some of Doctor Cranes Fear Toxin, a rather deadly pair of hydrangea’s curtesy of Doctor Isley and Edward has donated one of his masterplans that contain everything from blueprints of the job, to the riddles to leave.

Now my shrewd child, you must be asking why we are doing this, the answer is the reason any of us do anything in Gotham, entertainment, profit, and to cause chaotic shenanigans , but most importantly nothing brings us all together more than trying to one up the Bat and his Birds. You see my dear, these items are sold at these times as to have a level of mutually assured destruction. You see, by having these items you can set someone up at your own discretion, I for one like to know the cards others are holding. But it is mostly used to throw The Batman off the trail. The Batman won’t investigate my shipping lists if fear toxin is in the air.

Truly mad, is it not.

Oswald continued to write as there was a knock on his door.

‘What.’

A man slowly moved his head into the room leaving the rest of his body outside. He was trying his hardest not to look at red liquid that is at his feet, as he wanted to maintain some level of ignorance in his line of work.

‘Mr Cobblepot.’

The man paused and waited; Oswald tapped his pen down hard on the table making the man in the frame flinch.

‘Yes, well, spit it out lad, I don’t have all day.’

The man’s voice jumped as he found the words.

‘Mr Wayne is here, sir.’

Oswald slowly put down his pen, he lifted himself out of his chair and moved behind it to push it into desk. Mr Wayne did not often frequent the Lounge but when he did it was a sign of fortune if it was good or bad was up to Mr Wayne’s mood, but what can you expect from a man who could buy up all the city if the whim ever hit him. Mr Wayne and his horde of children were almost as annoying as the Batman and his Birds. Oswald made his way downstairs to the main floor where Mr Wayne was leaning on the bar talking to one of the female bartenders.

‘Mr Wayne, to what to I owe the pleasure.’

‘Cobblepot, I have come to see you about tonight’s auction.’

‘Mr Wayne, I fear the guest list is full for this evening.’

‘I’m sure you can make an exception.’

‘Now, Mr Wayne, I am sure that you are used to that being the case, but I am afraid I am going to have to use an unfamiliar phrase to you, No.’

‘Well now I have to be there. Is there anything I can do to change your mind?’

‘I assure you, there is nothing you could say or do to change my mind, Mr Wayne.’

‘Nothing?’

‘Nothing, you would be willing to do, Mr Wayne.’

‘Such as?’

Oswald paused before slowly letting out a coy smile.

‘As amusing as your antics are Mr Wayne, I am going to have to ask you to leave, as I am preparing for tonight’s festivities. So, I bid you adieu and if you wish to join next month’s auction then you are most welcome, provided you make the proper arrangements.’

For the first time since the younger man came in, he dropped his smirk as though a mask had trickled away, but the man put it back as quickly as it went, making Oswald question if he saw anything at all.

‘Yes, of course, then I will be seeing you Cobblepot.’

‘Yes, a good evening to you Mr Wayne,’

Oswald waved three men over to them,

‘Will you gentlemen escort Mr Wayne off the premises.’

As the two of men walked Mr Wayne out of the club, he held on of them back.

‘Make sure he stays out, the last thing I need tonight is Gotham’s golden boy finding something he shouldn’t, I don’t want the hassle of killing him. The body disposal alone would be a logistical nightmare.’

Oswald then set the man after them, Oswald made his way to the centre of the room and put his hands on the railing to look at the icy mountain that floated in the frozen water. The lounge was being set up for the auction, people moving around him as quickly as possible, as Oswald stood still looking at the ice mountain that was swaying in the water. The ice was towering and the cold from it could be felt all throughout the lounge. Oswald looked harder at the chilling structure; he saw a small steady stream of water was trickling down the ice. Oswald’s mind floated elsewhere, think how something with such presences and intimidating high could be melting away slowly and unnoticed by all around it.

‘As much as I have always liked this glorified monument to your ego, it’s always come off a little more …. Subzero, then was intended don’t you think?’

Oswald jumped, snapping his head around, and snarled.

‘Edward, I swear. If you ever do that again I will throw you into the water and I will make sure everyone here watches you, as you’re drowning.’

Edward gently twirls the green drink in his hand and takes a light sip, he then leans his back on the railing and faces Oswald. Edward lingered on Oswald, his face void of any hostility, silently staring at Oswald waiting for a reply but Oswald just turns his head back to the ice in front of him, his hands gripping the railing tighter.

‘Rough day, Oswald.’

‘It’s going to be a long night.’

‘Oswald this is Gotham, every night is a long night.’

‘Edward, leave me be.’

‘Heavy is the head that wears the crown, are you looking upon your kingdom and weeping, old friend.’

Edward took a long slow sip of his drink.

‘Oh, how very apropos of you Edward, and what is it exactly that I have to weep about.’

‘Oh, who knows, Oswald, you have never once been satisfied with anything.’

‘Perhaps not.’

‘Oh, perhaps, perhaps, is that what you are going with, ok I’ll play, Oswald you have more money, territory and respect then you have ever had, and yet here you are gazing like Gatsby. So, riddle me this Oswald, a turn of phrase, to be sage and yet mindless, what is at its lowest when it’s on top, and how can less be learned and more be dim-witted?’

‘Edward, I don’t, I can’t, do this today, I have not the strength nor the temperament.’

‘My, my, Oswald, I dare say we are dangerously close to having a heart to heart.’

‘Please Edward, don’t insult me.’

‘Yes, your right, we would actually have to have hearts for that.’

‘My boy, you have no idea how badly I wish that to be true.’

‘Tut-tut, we can’t let the other degenerates know such unsightly things about us.’

‘Yes, I suppose it would be quite a blow to the reputation.’

‘Indeed.’

Edward took one last sip of his drink.

‘…Have you figured it out yet?’

‘Edward.’

‘Alright, fine I’ll drop it…. for now.’

Oswald loosened his grip on the railing and looked at Edward.

‘My boy, I believe there is still work to be done.’

‘Indeed.’

Night fell and crowds grew as the auction came closer. Item after item was moved into the lounge, the air was filled with cigarette smoke, gunpower and opportunity. The items were counted by a heavily motivated Mr Wesker as Mr Scarface watched him from a nearby shelf. The auction could now get under way, Oswald was by no means a showman that was one of Edward’s games, but he was at times diplomatically inclined. Oswald went to the stage and tapped the microphone.

‘Good evening, lady’s, gentlemen and twisted creations of the night,’

Oswald raised his glass gesturing to Killer Croc and Man-bat.

‘Right, now, we all know the rules, but for those of us who need to be reminded.’

He tuned his gaze to Harley Quinn, who was at the bar drinking three different cocktails through three curly straws all at once.

‘One item per customer, so choose wisely. You may inspect the product, but it cannot be opened in the Lounge. And most importantly this a silent auction, so do not go around boasting and giving away the tonight’s secrets, so in short keep your mouths shut.’

Oswald looked over to the side of the stage where Edward was standing. Edward then put his hand over his chest like a Victorian woman who just saw something unseelie.

‘Now ladies and gentlemen and others, to tie you over while the auction is underway, I give Edward Nygma,’

The crowd collectively groaned.

‘Now, now, I promise this is only his musical stylings.’

The crowd mumbled in agreement, as Edward walked on stage.

‘Oh, gee, thank you everyone, for that dazzling display of comradery.’

‘Sing, Nygma or get off.’

Growled Harvey,

‘Wooo, Eddie. Take it off.’

Harley cheered.

‘Give 'em the hook.’

Yelled Crane.

‘I am going to ignore that Johnathan. Now without further ado, Duke Ellington’s It don't mean a thing hit it boys.’

The band started to play. The patrons started to put their names in for items, Harvey pulled himself from one side of the room to the other, well it seems Harvey and Harv were having a disagreement on what to buy as his ashy left hand kept slapping is right whenever he tried to write anything down though oddly enough there was no coin in sight. Jonathan was sitting off to the side letting his slender frame trail up the wall, his head down letting his glasses slide down his nose. As laughter and small talk flooded the room. A loud crash came from the roof, when the Batman comes knocking it’s never on the door.

Now what is that old saying about glass ceilings.

The Batman comes bursting through the roof, the patrons scattered to the wind like glass being through onto the concrete. The Batman grabbed Jervis by the back of his collar and Edward was still on the stage.

‘Well now, we have a Bat in our belfry.’

As Batman pushed Two-Face down, still holding on to Jervis, Two-Face pushed Batman onto the bar counter.

‘Oh, you who Bat’s.’

Harley had grabbed poured alcohol all over the bar and lit it on fire.

‘Oh, and it is getting a little hot in here for the dark knight.’

Edward said calling into the microphone. A glass bottle flow in his direction and he ducked to avoid it.

‘Shut up, Ed.’

‘Make me Crane.’

‘Fine.’

Jonathan yelled as he throws another glass. Oswald then runs on stage pulling the microphone out of Edwards hands.

‘Enough! All of you, Enough.’

The room settled under Oswald’s voice, Batman still holding onto Jarvis.

‘Now, I dare say Batman, that you have made it abundantly clear, that you want something or rather someone form here this evening. Yes?’

The room was silent, flames still burning on the counter dancing on top of the alcohol.

‘Yes. Now, why don’t you take Mr Tetch and leave post haste, before I change my mind and burn this place down along with everyone in it, myself!’

The last words died in is throat from the screaming. Batman looked around the room he took a moment and then silently started dragged Jervis by the scruff of his neck, taking him out of the club as Jervis begged and pleaded to everyone in the room as he was struggling but all of them were still looking at Oswald on stage none of them moving.

Oswald then screamed at the room again.

‘Get out! Auction over, out now, all of you, out. Be gone, go back to whatever place has the misfortune of having you as a resident.’

Not ones to out their welcome, the room began to clear. Oswald headed back to his office, he shut the blinds and sat in darkness, he pulled out his pen once again.

Well my dear, today had just about everything, thrills, spills and arson. Not that I am ever sure what these nights will ever bring. I am only ever sure of what that they will never bring, and that is you, Penelope.

I have done monstrous things my dear, I have robbed, killed and betrayed many men. I have seen vigilantes rise and the old ways of Gotham fall. I have built all that I am on the bones and ashes of other men and yet the only regret I have is and always will be that I never got to see you grow. That for all my transgressions and all the immoral measures I have taken in my life, the blood that was spilled for all of it, was yours. Even though I have buried the ones who are responsible and entombed them so deep into the earth that their own souls can’t find a way out.

But the emptiness I feel by your absents is one I can not fill, no matter how much luxury, power or control I obtain.

Truly, Penelope, my love, my sweet Penny, there is only one thing that could appease that void and that would be for me to hold you in my arms again and to tell you that,

The door swung open.

‘Well that was a disaster.’

‘Get out, Edward’

‘It’s a big mess out there, and you through a fit on that stage, mind you that’s not unordinary behaviour for you or any of us. But there seemed to be a little more to it this time as compared to your usual screaming fits of rage.’

‘Edward, I swear, if you don’t leave right now, I’ll.’

‘Kill me? Please Oswald, empty threats are unbecoming.’

Oswald the reached into his coat and pulled out a gun.

‘Are you sure about that.’

Edward flicked up his hands with a light flourish and spoke dryly.

‘Oh, no, I have been bamboozled, please sir, leave me with my shillings and silk robes.’

Oswald cocked the gun back.

‘Edward, out, now.’

Edward leered at Oswald with his hands lowering to his sides.

‘You really mean it this time don’t you.’

Edward said steadily.

‘What gave it away, dear boy.’

‘Oswald whatever is happening, you need to keep a level head, lest it be chopped off.’

‘Edward, I am going to tell you one, last, time, get, out.’

‘Oswald,’

Oswald’s hand was starting to shake rattling the gun. Edward then slowly moved to go out the door and looked out to club’s centre piece.

‘Our love for the dead, like a floating iceberg, can only be measured by the depths of our resentments.’

‘Rosario Ferre.’

‘Rosario Ferre. Just something to think about, Good night Oswald.’

When Edward closed the door, Oswald still held the gun in his shaking hands. After a few shuddered minutes Oswald placed on the table. He picked up the pen once again.

Penny, my dear child, you were taken from me to soon, you shined so brightly you could block out the sun. and even now after all these years I think of you always.

And perhaps Edward has made a point, though he has done so in a way that made me want to shoot him. My love for you has fuelled my fury, my culpability and solidified my wrath over these long years without you. So even in death you are my hidden strength. Sleep well my child and know that I have not forgotten you. For you are forever a part of me and as long as I am etched into the walls of this city, where my name is held in respect and the city’s life blood flows through me, you will live in its bones with me,

until my bones rest next to yours.

Happy Birthday my dear, With all my love,

Your father.

Oswald then put the letter in an envelope and signed it, he then closed it and went into the ballroom, it was empty, a mess, and small ambers still danced on the bar counter. Oswald made his way slowly to the iceberg, he moved around the ice mountain until he reached a platform that lead out and was attached to the iceberg, Oswald walked onto the platform until his noise felt the frost from the monument. Oswald then placed his hands on the ice, moving down to a small block that had been carved out and he removed it and then he put the block at his feet, the hole in front to him was no bigger then a sheet of paper. Oswald then held the letter in his hands. Moments stretched out into hours in Oswald’s mind, he then reached out and put the letter into the hole, it landed onto a pile of older frozen, frosted over and twisted together letters. The frozen graveyard has received another body. Oswald them puts the block back into place, he then adjusts his coat and walks off the platform.

For the morning is upon him and light is on its way, so it is time for Gotham to lay itself to rest. As everything worth doing in Gotham is done in the darkness and hidden below the surface.

Oswald the put the letter in an envelope and signed it, he then closed it and went into the ballroom. Oswald then made his way slowly to the iceberg, he moved around the ice mountain until he reached a platform that lead out and was attached to the iceberg, Oswald walked onto the platform until his noise felt the frost from the monument. Oswald then placed his hands on the ice, moving it down to a small

The end

#Arkham Gallery Zine #gotham rogues #Gotham #batman rogues #batman villains #oswald copplepot #edward nygma #iceberg lounge #Arkham Gallery Zine full work #yeah i can put this here now

2 notes · View notes

xtruss · 4 years

Text

Blue Bee Feared to Be Extinct Is Found in Florida

First discovered in 2011, the rare species reappeared recently after nearly a decade of eluding scientists’ watch! Researchers have documented just 17 of the rare bees and never more than three at any one time. — via Smithsonian Magazine

Paratype of Florida's rare blue calamintha bee (male) (Molly G. Rightmyer / ZooKeys)

By Jonathan Kendall

SmithsonianMag.Com

MAY 26, 2020

As soon as the blue calamintha bee arrived on the scene, scientists worried it might be gone for good.

The indigo insect was last spotted in central Florida in 2016, five years after it was first identified. But this spring, just as Americans began to hunker down because of the COVID-19 pandemic, the rare blue bees, known scientifically as Osmia calaminthae, were rediscovered in the same region foraging on Ashe's calamint, a dainty violet flower that blooms in certain scrub habitats.

Chase Kimmel of the Florida Museum of Natural History confirmed the bees’ survival in March. At first, he couldn’t believe his own eyes. “It was a great feeling; those first few nights were hard to sleep due to the anxiousness and excitement,” he says. “The first few times I found the bee I couldn’t help [but] constantly question my own eyes and judgment on the diagnostic characteristics of the bee. I needed to look multiple times at the photos to confirm their identity.”

In all, Kimmel and colleagues documented just 17 rare bees and never more than three at any one time. To find these few, and record them for potential legal protections, Kimmel ventured to different sites across the Lake Wales Sand Ridge, a 150-mile long region along the dirt roads of central Florida marked by sprawling citrus groves and Bok’s Singing Tower, a 205-foot iridescent neo-Gothic structure. It’s a place where the jasmine-like scent of orange blossoms hangs thick in the air.

“The Lake Wales Ridge is a pretty specialized environment composed of unique scrub habitat that is limited in geographic extent,” Kimmel says. The flower that hosts the bee is restricted to a few of these isolated scrub pockets, predominantly along the ridge, Kimmel says, meaning the bee has probably always been restricted to a small area.

In addition to this geographic limitation, experts believe habitat loss and fragmentation have hurt the blue bee’s numbers in recent decades. “This ancient island ridge is now primarily composed of agriculture, typically citrus, and urban development,” Kimmel says. “While we have no evidence of pesticide exposure, it is highly likely that the bees could be impacted by this adjacent agriculture given that they have been found only meters away.”

Because blue calamintha bees have been known for only a decade, scientists are still getting to know more about their vulnerabilities and idiosyncrasies. For example, the bees appear to have an unusual way of foraging. They tend to rapidly bob their heads two to four times when visiting flowers. Kimmel and other experts believe they do this to dislodge pollen from the plant, but none of the other 23 bee species known to visit Ashe’s calamint do this, Kimmel says.

“This behavior also results in some of the bees carrying pollen on their face for extended periods of time, which is also rare,” he says. “It’s quite strange that it doesn’t groom itself more often and transfer the pollen to its abdomen sooner. The hairs on its face to appear modified for collecting pollen but this would need additional studies to see if that is the case."

Furthermore, Kimmel and colleagues don’t know exactly why the bee got its indigo coloring. It is among at least nine species of bees in Florida that have blueberry-like exoskeletons. The indigo league is made up entirely of “spring-flying” bees, which is why studying the blue calamintha bees in March was so important. The solitary bees (a hive has never been found for them) have only ever been documented in the wild from March 9 to April 30.

Insects, especially rare ones, are difficult to study over time to build population estimates because of their small size—this is exacerbated when a particular species is active only for a small window of time each year. Nevertheless, Kimmel and his team are collecting as much data as possible about the 11-millimeter blue bee so the United States Fish & Wildlife Service can determine whether this rediscovered species qualifies to be listed under the Endangered Species Act. The non-profit NatureServe already designates the bee as “critically imperiled,” but it needs official federal status to gain legal protections.

“I feel very happy to hear that the bee was rediscovered,” says Molly G. Rightmyer, whose team first identified Osmia calaminthae nearly a decade ago. “Doing systematics work [describing species and determining evolutionary history] sometimes feels a bit isolated and esoteric, so to know that people were spurred to action—that people actually cared enough to go looking for this bee—is very heartening.”

Although Kimmel currently doesn’t have a good estimate of how many blue calaminthas remain in the wild, he remains hopeful that the brightly colored bee will make a comeback in the coming years. Back in 2011, when the bees were described by Rightmyer, they were found only in four locations in Highlands County, a range that totaled a paltry 16 square miles. Today, Kimmel says, he found the blue bees, without the aid of volunteers (coronavirus impeded them from joining), in three of the original sites plus an additional seven properties that are protected for wildlife. The bee was also been observed in neighboring Polk County, which extends its known territory.

These sightings expand the bees’ range “much farther north” than their previous known territory, which could indicate they are hanging on in the face of multiple threats—perhaps just in time to be researched and protected.

“It can get very hot, and one can feel pretty exhausted being out in the scrub habitat for extended periods. But it’s worth it,” says Kimmel about his ongoing research. “Because every time I find the bee it’s exciting to know that we are getting a better understanding of it and helping it.”

0 notes

chakra-center · 5 years

Text

What is Nirvana?

Are you willing to let go of everything you know, for everything you can become? How high is the higher sense of self? What if I told you you're able to do anything you set your mind to? What if I told you that everything you were at birth was not you? We are here to show you more. Our spirit or what some call energy travels the earth dormant for many years until it is guided into a body to restart over again because Nirvana was not yet reached. In 1850 William Thomson and Rudolf Clausius both stated the first Law of Thermodynamics also known as The Law of Conservation of Energy which is "energy cannot be created or destroyed in an isolated system." In Physics "an isolated system is a thermodynamic system that cannot exchange energy or matter outside the boundaries of the system." This Universe is an isolated system, stated on The Bluffton College website.

The energy we harness cannot be extracted from or removed from our vessel. The only thing that releases our energy back into the universe is death. Throughout your life, you build karma through the things you have done, good and bad. Good karma does not nullify bad karma, the only way to break this cycle called Samsara is through Nirvana where you transcend to a higher sense of self. When you enter Nirvana you are not with desire, you do not feel suffering and life is suffering. Desire is the root of all suffering. To achieve Nirvana you have to separate yourself from all attachments. The word Nirvana is ancient Sanskrit which means to extinguish or to blow out.

Reaching Nirvana allows you to remember vividly the memories of your spirits past lives. The amount of clarity and understanding you attain when the memories are revisited grants you a deeper connection to self and deeper control of your destiny. When you have the knowledge of past and present you enter into a different space. You learn the actions taken that built your karma and why you did not transcend in your prior lives. But more importantly, you become free from your karma. Once you are aware of the truth the Universe will place you in many synchronistic and serendipitous events that bring you closer to where you should be exactly. The idiosyncrasy you begin to feel will change your perspective about aspects of life that is prioritized.

Spiritual Meditation

The art form of freeing the mind of desires and reaching enlightenment. Meditation is very important for many reasons and has many health benefits as well. Studies have scientifically proven that meditation reduces stress, treats anxiety, helps with emotional health and helps with many other factors as stated by Doctor Matthew Thorpe, MD, Ph.D. This helps bring you to a stronger version of yourself in many ways and eventually to the ultimate version of yourself. Once you understand your human design and how it works it will connect the dots like a step by step drawing of the milky way. Once your spirit and mind meet this awakening you will be on the path to enlightenment. We have birthmarks for the reason of our past lives ending.

What is Chakra?

We have energy centers that are called chakras which is Sanskrit for wheel or disk. Chakras are spinning wheels of energy/light. These energy centers take in energy that is then harbored in the body, the closer you are to the spirit the closer you are to God.

The Chakras are split into 7 different fields that control different receptors, which would be Crown(Sahasrara), Third Eye(Ajna), Throat(Vishuddha), Heart(Anahata), Solar Plexus(Manipura), Sacral(Svadhisthana), and Root(Muladhara).

The Crown Chakra (Sahasrara)

The direct connection to our higher self, it's the center of the crown of the head which is the very top. When entering Nirvana's heaven like state, this will be the main chakra in use. This connects us to our spirit as a transfer of energies. It's often in relation with violet or violet-white light. The Crown is what allows you to silence desires to be at bliss as you transcend.

Third Eye Chakra (Ajna)

This is the most familiar Chakra—you may hear about in pop culture—many people speak about, the third eye is in the center of the eyebrows. The third eye grants direction, intuition, and decisiveness. Indigo is the naturally bonded color to this chakra. And, for those that want to develop a better connection to the third eye, meditation would be a powerful way to align with it.

Throat Chakra (Vishuddha)

The station of expression through communication, the vibrations, and treble of your voice gives off notes that are then interpreted sonically. The throat chakra is located where it was named, the more connected you are with this energy receptor the more honest your truth you express. Blue is associated color for the throat chakra. To enhance your connection with this chakra particular breathing exercises can be done or singing.

Heart Chakra (Anahata)

Bonds the connection between our physical and spiritual chakras as a bridge that connects our emotions, mind, body, and soul. Unsurprisingly, the location is the center of the chest a little above the heart. The heart chakra is where we emit love, this is also the fourth chakra. The color responsible for this receptor is green, now to activate it, enjoy nature, the great outdoors.

Solar Plexus Chakra (Manipura)

Confidence and power are sustained characteristics of a strong connection to this chakra. It also has a lot to do with self-esteem, self-worth and how you view your self. Yellow is the color in relation to the Solar Plexus, the better the connection the more vivid your destiny becomes while you gain more control in your life. The location of the solar plexus chakra is in the upper abdominals in the tummy region and is the third chakra.

Sacral Chakra (Svadhisthana)

Chakra of acceptance, how accepting are you of others? Do you say no often to trying out new things? Unblocking the sacral chakra will connect you with creativity, sexuality, and pleasure. The sacral chakra is located in the lower abdomen underneath the navel, with orange as a representing color. To unblock the sacral chakra take up yoga and connect with loving people. The sacral chakra is the second chakra.

Root Chakra (Muladhara)

This is the first chakra, the Root Chakra in relation to foundation, stability, and security. The root is the tailbone section of the spine, and it is represented by the color red. Being our base keeping us grounded to earth, the best way to strengthen the connection would be jogging and running. Another alternative is dancing, for the first chakra.

What is Reiki?

Reiki is a form of spiritual healing through the hands that will aid in unblocking the flows of energy that cause imbalances. In origin, the term Rei in the Japanese culture means "Universal Life" and Ki means "Energy". Reiki is the universal life energy in all beings, that possess life. That's why even animals have personalities. Reiki is not associated with any religion, where if you have a certain belief system it would be against your ideology. It is about healing through the hands of the Reiki practitioner through the chakra energy fields. For many years advancements in technology have tried to replicate healing through energy such as infrared lighting. Of course, you know that light is a form of energy, the same as a gust of wind is kinetic energy. Reiki can be an alternative to stress relief and tension in parts of the body. Reiki practitioners are all over the country and operate in many hospitals across the nation, it is not a cure to any illnesses or diseases but it is a practice worth opening the mind to. During a session, the Reiki Practitioner will remove negative and harmful energies from your aura. There are many techniques used and the practitioner would be able to explain what would be best for you.

Who is Reiki for?

Reiki is for those of us that have trapped energy in our body, whether it be from emotional pain and/or trauma and/or physical injury. A consultation is good for those curious to if this can help them with certain issues they may have that they would like to resolve or treat. Reiki has been used to help treat various diseases such as cancer, depression, fatigue, chronic pain, and etc.

Nirvana Conclusion

In conclusion, Nirvana is a state of happiness, some say, a heaven like state. A state that allows you to transcend to a higher form of being within self. Nirvana is indeed the only way to move past Samsara and evolve to pure energy in the future no longer seeking resolution. The chakras allow us to grasp on to a level of understanding and grow and if they are blocked Reiki will resolve the issue, until next time.

#Nirvana #Reiki #Chakra #Spiritual #Enlightenment #Reiki Practitioner

0 notes

othercat2 · 7 years

Text

fic: two for mirth 30/?

The rest of the trip, in the aftermath of Gamzee’s “joke” is pretty quiet. Dave had cracked a rib, had some pretty impressive bruises from the fight, but was relentlessly cheerful about it. He got visits from the sword instructor, an elderly indigo with curved and pronged horns named Segyn Narvfi, and a few of the youngsters he’d sparred with. Sometimes he went off with them somewhere. Karkat’s a little worried about it at first, but Dave seems to enjoy the attention, and the indigos visits are friendly.

Karkat’s a little surprised to find himself signing autographs, and answering questions about his books. Intellectually he knew he had fans across the hemospectrum, and had been approached in the past by high bloods but it was a little strange to be signing for clowns. When he’d been living with Gamzee, the atmosphere had been unfriendly. It hadn’t stopped him from arguing or speaking his mind, but it had been very uncomfortable. So it felt strange to have clowns come up to him and start up conversations about his books, or be asked to sign a book.

He asks about it, tentatively during a caretaking session, Karkat sitting on the edge of the bathtub, combing out Gamzee’s hair. Gamzee laughs. “You think you didn’t make any impression at all while you were here, bro?” he asks. “Like you didn’t make any impression with me?”

“I thought it was more of an indentation,” Karkat says. “Into the nearest bulkhead.” His tone is sour, and a little ironic.

“It was the other guy who scratched the mural, not your thumpy little horns,” Gamzee points out in a placid tone.

“Still not seeing the ‘impression’ I made,” Karkat says.

“They saw how strong you were, how you don’t back down. I won’t say they’ve got the pure understanding of fish sis’ ways and intentions, but they got your measure,” Gamzee points out.

“Yeah but I did back down, didn’t I?” Karkat asks. “I left, remember?”

Gamzee snorts. “Once a brother makes a point, he shouldn’t have to go on making the same damn point. You were here when I needed you--and I did bro, the Old Man’s a hardass and the strictest motherfucker--but you needed your own thing too, and there wasn’t any way you’d get your own thing being so close under my shadow.”

“So that translates to me having made an impression?” Karkat asks. He smiles a little.

“Yeah,” Gamzee says. “Won’t say my brothers and sisters have all woken to the egalitarian philosophies but they’re getting their understand on.”

“Good,” Karkat says, and starts working on another section of Gamzee’s curls. “Dave’s made some friends, or found some admirers, whichever. And your friends seem to be a little friendlier.”

“You have a way with words, little bro,” Gamzee says. “When you’ve a mind to. It isn’t at all surprising they’d be fonder of a storyteller who knew what he was about. So does Strider, though he’s mostly spoken-word, not writing.”

“He’s not trying competitive poetry is he?” Karkat asks, a little worried. He didn’t want Dave to get into any challenges, or have some poet take offense.

“Na, just recounting,” Gamzee says. “Maybe a few informal exchanges.”

“Okay, that’s good I guess,” Karkat says, and maybe smiles a little. He wonders if the “recounting” was anything like some of the muttering he’d overheard. Sometimes conversational, sometimes fuming, in a combination of English and Alternian. (Oddly enough the idiosyncrasy wasn’t something Terhun’s promoters had ever mentioned, and it wasn’t in his profile. Had he been better able to hide it then, or was it a sign of trust?) Heh. More likely he was just that angry he didn’t care about hiding it, for whatever reason he might have been hiding it, he thinks. “How’s he sleeping?” Gamzee asks,

Karkat frowns, both because of the shift in conversation, and because the answer was: “Not very good.”

“Any better, any worse?”

“Better maybe,” Karkat says. “Maybe a little worse just after the dinner with the ambassador.”

“Good, wouldn’t want to do him any permanent ill,” Gamzee says. “Had nightmares and speculations of the worst sort first few nights he was here the first time.”

“I wonder why,” Karkat says a little snidely. “Surrounded by subjugglators and bought by the Grand Highblood himself.”

Gamzee waves a hand, indicating point made. “That fear’s a normal thing,” he says. “Even fear of where you don’t want to be, doing a thing you ain’t been barely trained to do. Fear full of burning and dark places and grabbing hands and you backed in a corner with a shiv is another kind of fear altogether.”

“Dreaming about the pirates,” Karkat says, a simmering anger building in his chest.

“Deeper than that, bro,” Gamzee says. “He aint hardly had a moment in his life where he wasn’t defending himself from something. Think he had one of them challenging custodians, that don’t ever let up, or get their wander on if it suits them.”

From the tone in Gamzee’s voice, Karkat can tell he’s thinking of his own lusus, maybe feeling a little sympathy for Dave. “You’re getting pretty perceptive,” Karkat says.

“Been doing a lot of meditating and exploring the chucklevoodoos, chasing fear and rage down to its very roots my brother, seeing all that shapes a mind,” Gamzee says. “Strider’s not the first human I’ve got the sense of, but maybe the first one who was just about screaming in my head for all his face was stone. Knew I made the right choice the moment I laid eyes on him.”

Karkat taps one of Gamzee’s horns with the comb. “For me or you?” he asks. Gamzee protests, and rubs at his horn. “You’ve admitted to pitch feelings.”

“For you, bro,” Gamzee says, turning fast and tugging Karkat into water before he can even think to get away. Karkat yelps and splashes, Gamzee gathers him up like he was the tiniest baby barkbeast, laughing. “Haven’t I said so about a thousand times?”

“Purest serendipity, right,” Karkat says, a little sour.

“I think so,” Gamzee says. “You like him, and he likes you, you’ve both got the rage down deep, for all he won’t show it, and it’s always been all over your face and in your voice.”

“He likes me?” And he can’t help the hopefulness in his voice.

“He’s getting a liking, and maybe speculating in an entirely different manner,” Gamzee says smugly.

Karkat’s face heats. “How are you getting things that aren’t fear,” he grumbles.

“Anything the little brain, the bug brain gets a feel of, I can get,” Gamzee says. “Nona sis says it’s flight/fight impulses I get at the bottom, and I don’t see how she’s wrong. There’s other things in a thinking brain that turns fight and flight into other feels though, and I can get those too, if I’ve a mind to. That little brother wants a thing he ain’t never really had, and that feel goes down dark and deep into the fear places.”

“And on top of that you think he’s mine anyway because of his eyes,” Karkat says and shivers a little from the water, which is just barely warm for him. It’s not even really a protest. Just bringing up the core of why Gamzee’s so sure, why he feels so strongly about it.

“Yeah, that was a sign, clear as anything,” Gamzee says. “Saw there was something you could do for him.”

“But pitch?” Karkat asks. “Because you know I’ve never really went pitch for anyone, not even Sollux.”

“Made the most sense,” Gamzee says. “And well, you always talked up pitch, so I thought maybe you could be pitch for someone who don’t really have pitch feels either.”

“That was me talking out of my ass because I was a defensive little shithead you idiot,” Karkat says fondly.

“I wasn’t thinking of that,” Gamzee says, ruffling Karkat’s hair. “You’re a fiery little motherfucker, hiding all those conciliatory urges under pitch, but I got the knowledge of how you are pretty quick.”

“Are you trying to slant rhyme?” Karkat asks suspiciously. “Are you going to start versifying?”

“You can help me practice my next sermon,” Gamzee offers, like that was somehow a special treat.

“Oh god,” Karkat says, and sighs. “Okay fine. Let’s get out of this ridiculous trap and make righteous rhythms.”

==>

<==

#homestuck #two for mirth #davekat #gamkar #fan fic #gladiatorstuck #gamzee is a good bro #kind of #maybe

8 notes · View notes

petersonreviews · 7 years

Photo

Donkey Skin (1970)

“This is a movie that recognizes the Technicolor dementia of classic fairy tales and outlines the childishness and subtle moral questionability that oft tickles them pink. Its artistic idiosyncrasy creatively highlights outlandishness, after all. Statues are played by people painted indigo or red. The skins of horses are drowned in the pigmentation of a Crayola box. Animals shit coins and jewels. A setting clashing helicopter even makes way during the movie’s finale.”

http://bit.ly/2iYJv5A

#donkey skin #1970s #jacques demy #catherine deneuve #jean marais #delphine seyrig #jacques perrin #micheline presle #photos #photo #stills #still #photoset #the umbrellas of cherbourg #the young girls of rochefort

37 notes · View notes

cerebral01 · 7 years

Link

Riff Raff homeless ignorant, arrogant hater jerks in Mission Valley, San Diego CA doing double duty, homeless and drug addicted, not good at all. Some make things 25 times harder than it needs to be.

Artistry - Jack Of All Trades: Master Of Some - Renaissance Man - Diamond In The Rough - Giver - Free Thinker - Philosopher - Nonconformist - Messenger - Practical - Idealist - Can Do - Detailed

#homeless #homelesssandiego #riftraft #riffraff #veryselfish #selfishignorantarroganthomeless #noclass #classless #lackingclass #nosophistication #makethingsharderthanneedstobe #ghetto #missionvalleyhomeless #missionvalley #sandiego #sandiegocounty #drugaddictedhomeless #doingdoubledutyhomelessanddrugaddicted #doubleduty #freespeech #rightandwrong #intoleranthomeless #intolerance #persecution #pointfingersdontknowownfaults #ignorance #liveinboxandbubble #society #tv #multimedia #news #philosophy #philosopher #freethinkers #perspective #mythoughts #wisethinker #gemini #wit #movie #video #teacherofwisdomknowledge #training #skillsets #skills #learn #guru #jackofalltrades #selfishpeopledontteach #commoncourtesy #real #logic #logical #honest #Truth #Truthseekers #intelligent #criticalobjectiveintellectualanalysis #creditwherecreditisdue #equality #pruderudecrudedudes #criticalanalysis #intellectualanalysis #wisethinker #criticalthinking #rightandwrong #intelligence #cerebral #critical #thoughtful #intellectual #empathetic #logical #analytical #analysis #freethinker #freethinkers #nonconformist #points #thoughtless #unaware #inconsiderate #nohaters #youwantequalityshowit #hypocrites #undividedattention #peopledismisspeople #shortwithpeople #inahurrytogonowhere #peopleinahurry #takeabreak #practicewhatyoupreach #stateofsociety #wordsofwisdom #amessenger #sage #emotionalpeoplearethoughtfulpeople #lackofempathy #deepempathy #empathy #judge #humble #politicallycorrect #politicalcorrectness #entitled #actingentitled #pettypruderudecrudedudes #petty #errorofyourways #noseupintheair #perceptionisnotreality #realityisreality #truthisreality #agedoesnotmeanoneiswiser #age #ignorant #moreignorant #closedminded #moreclosedminded #dimwitted #meddlesomepeople #meddlesome #meddle #interfere #impediment #hindrance #idiosyncrasy #policies #noprotocals #protocals #norules #rules #peoplecannotdiscernrightandwrong #indigos #indigioadults #lightworkers

My critical, intellectual, thoughtful, empathetic, objective analysis from a free thinker.

As always my logical, intellectual, wise, objective take on topics based on the TRUTH, right and wrong, fairness, being methodical more or less.