#born yesterday 1993
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TED RAIMI in Born Yesterday (1993)
#watch me gif every movie where Ted is in even for 30 seconds in the background lmao#ted raimi#tedraimiedit#born yesterday#born yesterday 1993#ted raimi gifs#bornyesterdayedit#edit
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if you have the time or inclination, can i ask what the deal with motogp/those boys is about? i don’t mean that in a mean way btw, im just curious and i love drama
i will try to be brief (1/4358)
SO! valentino rossi (born 16 February 1979, aquarius. italian.) is one of the most iconic people in motorsport, CERTAINLY in motogp. he's a 9 time world champion, your favorite driver's favorite driver, and is generally credited with revolutionizing the popularity of the sport by: a. being insanely good at motorcycle racing, and b. in general having a lot of fun about it. lethally charming and charismatic. all time active listening face. just a fun and funny dude that everyone pretty much likes and MANY younger riders idolize. VERY good at handling the media and his legions of cult-like fans. sometimes treated more like a god than a person. i was in the store yesterday and saw one of his themed monster energy drinks despite him retiring two years ago. his fun retirement activity is racing BMWs and running his own motogp team/training facility/cult for young italian racers. (this is where cele and bezz and basically every italian rider not named enea bastianini come from!)
so in 2011ish valentino had won 9 titles, and he decided to leave his current manufacturer and move to italian manufacturer ducati where he generally had a stone-cold terrible time. EXTENDED flop era for a couple years. any time ive watched content that covers this period everyone is so sad. so sad. anyways he GOES BACK to his old manufacturer in 2013 and is much more competitive. kind of just happy to be winning sometimes and be on the podium. 2013 is also where marc comes in. what could go wrong.
marc marquez! (born 17 february 1993, almost exactly 14 years after vale which i'm sure means nothing. also an aquarius. spanish.) childhood sports idols include: dani pedrosa, VALENTINO ROSSI.
marc carved his way up through the feeder championships until casey stoner unexpectedly retired at the end of the 2012 season leaving a seat empty on a VERY good bike for his rookie season. rocked up and was immediately VERY good at winning and very good at being a crazyinsane person on track that made people mad at him lol. hilarious habit of pissing people off via on-track crimes that i really enjoy. motogp riders are already crazy (they do death sport) but marc is famous for taking risks no one else will. basically if he's not winning, he's crashed out or he's maybe crashed YOU out. he wins the championship as a rookie (insane) and the next year's championship as well. heir apparent to the throne. sweet and goofy but is now known as one of the more reserved riders with the press. probably because of all this drama tbh. undisputed GOAT of acting like a slut on camera
throughout 2013-2014, marc and valentino had a good relationship! marc very clearly idolizes him and is like. bowled over completely with delight every time valentino looks his way. vale likes him! theyre buds! truly an endless well of pictures of vale explaining something with his hands and marc babygirling at him. highly recommend checking out @pgaslys every rosquez podium tag for contextual brain damage. insane times.
(IT SHOULD BE NOTED: before the 2015 season marc visits valentino at his practice track in italy, where they compete to break the track record and almost kill each other bc they are so pathologically competitive. APPARENTLY, marc showed up with some official mechanics and valentino was a little pissed off because it was supposed to be a like. fun thing. and to marc winning is the most fun! if you dont come to win why come at all! anyways marc breaks the track record and credits that to cooling their relationship a bit. good post about it here.) here they are that day:
so what could go wrong, right? WELL. valentino has a chance to win his tenth title in 2015. marc is on a flop bike and crashed a bunch so he's not in the championship conversation but vale is leading the standings from the jump, with his main opponent being jorge lorenzo. i think he really wanted that tenth, and dedicated himself to the season in a way he hadnt really ever before (he was a very effortless competitor when he was young. gym-adverse. king).
marc and him start to get into some scraps along the way, notably in argentina (where they made contact and marc crashed out), assen (where they made contact AGAIN and vale won the race), and phillip island (marc won. GREAT race available here for free). phillip island sees vale finishing P4 and jorge lorenzo finishing ahead of him in P3, reducing his championship lead by quite a bit. no real indication of any tension during these races, and they are asked about it!
this is where valentino's delulu era begins! basically, ahead of the next race (🔥🔥SEPANG 2015🔥🔥) in the pre-race press conference, he goes after marc, saying he was deliberately sabotaging valentino in phillip island because marc wanted jorge to win. in valentino's mind. marc wants jorge to win because a. they are both spanish (??) and b. it would mean marc has to win less titles to equal valentino's total. record scratch. freeze frame.
everyone (including marc!) thinks valentino is joking at first bc that is bananascrazyinsane. he was not joking. (it should be noted valentino STILL thinks this lol.) anyways marc is completely blindsided. he thought they were good! yeah they've been chippy on track but that's racing!! truly like. 22 years old and your friend (AND CHILDHOOD IDOL.) is calling you a snake in front of your face with NO prior warning to the entire motogp establishment writ large including your coworkers and REPORTERS. valentino wont even look at him the entire time. the press conference is available here on vimeo. excruciating gifsets of marc's very stiff bewildered PR smile found here.
anyways so. the race. marc is uh. pissed off. he's stuck to valentino like GLUE the entire time and they trade places a bunch of times. now marc is kind of famous for being a little asshole on track anyways, but its not like he's gonna get out of valentino's way and just let him pass after what he said in that press conference so. hand in unlovable hand <3. truly very fun to watch imo even with the sword of damocles hanging over them. marc is fucking on one the entire race and basically refuses to give valentino an inch until vale gets so fed up with his antics that um. well. it certainly looks like he kicked him. vale says he didnt, and that his leg accidently made contact with marc's bike. marcs says. he fucking kicked me. judge for yourself here!
so valentino gets hauled in front of race direction and penalized for the next race (the deciding race for the championship). he has to start from the back of the grid and it kills his chance at a tenth title stone dead. vale places the blame squarely on marc's shoulders and his legions of fans decide marc is public enemy number 1. him and jorge have to get security at the next race because of death threats, someone tries to break into marc's childhood home back in spain, marc's mom throws away all of marc's valentino merchandise from when he was a kid. vale says nothing.
but the thing about marc. is that he loves very hard and chooses his people pretty carefully. didnt really move out of his tiny hometown until he turned 30 and also made his baby brother move in with him kind of guy. so all this is not really enough for him to let go of vale entirely! 2016 is where the pain lives! bc marc is still reaching out and vale himself stays pretty cold for a couple years. they seem to faintly reconcile for a bit but its not anywhere like it was before sepang.
the real nail in the coffin is argentina 2018. another insane race where marc has to start from the back and goes on a rampage through the field and crashes out like three people. i cant remember. this race is also available on youtube for free its very entertaining. every five minutes marc does something insane. vale is one of the people marc crashes out and afterwardshe goes on a big rant about how marc is destroying the sport and is actively dangerous. marc goes to valentino's garage immediately after the race to apologize and vale doesnt even look at him. he gets turned away at the door after vale's best friend/assistant/henchman yells in his face1!!! and thats kind off all she wrote in terms of reconciliation
anyways that's where we are! they are both very much not over it. vale goes on podcasts and is like. in 30 years i will still be mad, im literally never going to get over it it was such a big and unfair thing and i think about it all the time like it was yesterday. and marc (lying) says as time goes by i dont even think about it :) and i care about valentino less and less :))) but yes he hurt me deeply lol. CANNOT stress enough how much this entire thing is now inextricably liked to both of their legacies. the two arguable GOATs of a sport had an epic fleetwood mac-style beatles breakup divorce and everyone wants to talk about it allllll day long including me :)
additional context! really recommend checking out marc's little docuseries he put out this year about his recent struggles with injury. he is so not right in the head and it goes over the valentino drama in ep3. theres also hitting the apex (2015) which goes over the 2013 season (marc's rookie season) and is a really good introduction to all the major players at the time. its like less than 2 hrs long so its not too much of a commitment
also recommend following scholars @babynflames, @its-always-silly-season, @baking-soda, and @f1vegas as well as many others im forgetting rn bc its 2am!
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The Anatomy of Starved Dogs (part 2)
First part:
Ao3 link:
Warnings!!
Child abuse/neglect
Drug use/overdose
Mentioned suicide
26 YEARS EARLIER
GHOST
MANCHESTER, ENGLAND
20 APRIL 1993
Many people make the mistake to think children are born blank slates, canvases that the image of personhood must be projected onto. They’re naive to believe that changing the environment that surrounds the child in their formative years will change the person he grows up to be so drastically, that they can change his fate completely.
But they forget the remnant of a blueprint, his DNA.
He is bound, even if not fully, to the downfalls, the sins of his father, and though it is easy to think of the potential such a young thing might have, half his story is already written, inked into the body in the very blood in his veins.
Some are born with the heart to serve, others with one bound to destruction, and it is the job of the parent to recognise the latter and be vigilant not to enable his violent tendencies.
Failure as a parent to recognise these things will lead to death, and sometimes it is a parent’s duty to swallow the bitter pill that is the realisation that some people are just inherently born evil.
You can build them, or break them, but the troubled children of yesterday might grow up to be the pillars society rests on further down the line. With a bit of guidance, that boy hell bent on destruction could build nations, or bring around their demise, and one with a soft heart might lose it completely to whoever he let hold it first…
Simon squeezed his eyes shut tightly, turning his head away as he brought the rock smashing through the exoskeleton of the beetle. He hits it again just to make sure it's properly dead before raising the rock away to look at the damage done with a painful lurch of his heart.
He mutters a futile apology to the poor thing before scooping the crushed body up with a leaf and putting it in the empty pill bottle his mother had given him.
He hates killing the things, but it was one thing Aunt Amelia had not considered about his Christmas gift.
“An ant farm,” she had said proudly as she presented it to him, still standing bleary eyed in the kitchen in his spiderman pyjamas. “Because I know how much you love bugs.” her smile had faltered a little bit into a grimace but quickly reset itself when she noticed the smile on his face.
She stepped aside to admire his excitement as Simon watched the ants crawling over each other in their organised chaos, squealing with excitement as he spotted the queen.
Aunt Amelia laughed at the six year old, now staring at the colony with sparkling eyes.
He couldn’t see the expression on his mothers face then, smiling at her boy in her hazy detached way, avoiding the eye contact her sister kept on trying to initiate with her.
His father stood off a little way with a stinking cigarette in his hand, watching the scene unfold with more than a little disdain.
When the tension between the adults got too much, his mother moved him like a pawn on their chessboard, prompting him into taking the heat off her.
“Now, Simon, what do we say to auntie Amelia for the nice gift?”
“Thank you!” he rushed over and almost knocked her over in a hug. She braces herself against the kitchen counter behind her, knocking into the gathered group of dirty glasses and three day old dishes by the sink. She wiped her hand with a bit of disgust, trying to mask it, but Simon had seen it, so had his mother.
“Calm down, you’re going to break something like that!” his father shouted.
“Oh it's nothing, he’s just excited,” Aunt Amelia could feel Simon go rigid in her hold and quickly came to the boy’s defence, placing her hand on his shoulders in a futile attempt to shield him. She held the man’s gaze until he left the room with a defeated sigh.
She knew his father, and the hem of the boy’s shirt wasn’t able to cover all of the bruises.
“I should get going, still have a Christmas party to get to,” she said awkwardly, reaching for her purse and shuffling out of the kitchen, away from Simon and towards the door. She hesitated by the security gate as Simon tried to reach out to grab her by the wrist.
He doesn’t want her to go. Things are different when she leaves. He feels safer when she’s here.
“Please stay longer, I missed you,” Simon pouts, lower lip jutting out to emphasise how desperately he wants her to stay, but she just shakes her head apologetically.
“Sorry darling, I have some of my friends from work to go visit, they miss me too.”
He felt the resolve shatter as his shoulders sagged, he could barely hide the glint of tears in his eyes and Aunt Amelia cupped his little face in her hands that promised safety, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be back when I can. But for now, enjoy your gift, my boy. I love you.”
Heaven knows he doesn’t hear those words enough, so she tells him every time she sees him.
She puts a hand on his shoulder but promptly lightens her grip when she sees him flinch, almost losing her smile when she notices the fading bruise just visible above the hem of his shirt. She looks him in the eye, “you take good care of your brother too, Simon.”
Regrettably, she leaves him there as his mother walks her out, down the steps to the driveway.
Simon watches the two forlornly from the window and briefly wonders what life would have been like if she was his mother instead.
Later that evening, he was sitting by the kitchen counter, still transfixed by the crawling ants when his father came up behind him, looking displeased.
“You know you’re going to have to feed those things dead bugs, and you’re going to have to kill them yourself.”
He left without another word to sit himself down on their worn out couch in the other room and watch whatever program was on TV, but Simon didn’t mind that now, too invested in his little colony to care.
Distantly, he could hear little Tommy wailing in another room and willed him to stop before his father lost his temper. He always loses his temper when Tommy cries.
Back then, he’d thought dispatching the dispatching of the insects would have gotten easier down the line. It hadn’t.
At first, he thought he might escape the moral dilemma of having to kill the thing by just throwing it to the ants, but watching them tear its writhing, agonised body limb from limb was more frightening than taking care of it himself, so he considers it a mercy.
From the driveway. Simon could hear his brother crying and rushed back inside a minute when no one had gone to check on him.
The house is dark and the curtains are drawn to hide the mess in the cramped kitchen.
Dirty dishes piled up in precariously balanced stacks on the countertops around the sink, the air stank of a sour mix of days old food and soured dairy. He scrunches his nose up and moves into the living room.
Simon finds the TV with the sound just above mute. His mother is passed out on the couch with a magazine splayed open over her chest. Her arm was hanging over the edge of the couch and Simon took a moment to adjust it into a more comfortable position, closing the magazine.
He pushed away some of the clutter on the coffee table to put it down there.
She’ll probably come around in about an hour but be really out of it for the rest of the day. Simon suspects it has something to do with the pills she’s always taking.
She hides them in drawers and under seat cushions because his father gets angry when he sees her taking them. She’s been taking them after that surgery last year, but now her arm is completely healed and she’s still taking them.
Simon finds Tommy in their shared bedroom, sprawled on the floor where he fell trying to climb under his too small cot.
Simon rushed over to him and tried to comfort him to silence his crying, holding the two-year old close to him, but he didn’t know what more would help. He slowly rocked him back and forth.
Simon shushes him quietly, cupping Tommy’s head to his shoulder. He makes good on his promise to Aunt Amelia. He would do his best to keep Tommy safe.
He looks Tommy over to check for any injuries, but aside from older bruises, he sees nothing new.
“Don’t you worry, Tommy. Mommy’s going to be awake later to help you. She will help you,” he makes an empty promise, following it with a truer statement.
“But I promise I’ll be here. I’ll always keep you safe.”
If Tommy knew what that meant, Simon wasn’t sure. He looked his brother in the eye, finding his mother’s cornflower blue where his own were regretfully his father’s dull brown.
He’ll take all of Tommy’s beatings for him if that’s what it took to keep him safe.
When Tommy’s calmed down enough, Simon picks him up, doing his best to prop him up on his hip like he’d seen other mothers do with their children.
Both Simon and Tommy were rather small for their age, so even though it should have been easier, his arm burns with the effort.
Its alright though. He tells himself the same thing he tells himself when he’s pressing a bad bruise to check how much it hurts in the dirty bathroom mirror, or fixing up his own scrapes, because he’s ‘old enough to take care of himself’. He tells himself the pain is only temporary.
With Tommy on his hip, Simon shuffles over to the window where his ant colony stood on their shared dresser.
He watched them for a minute before he reached into his pocket for the pill bottle and knocked the bug out for the swarming colony.
It gives him a sense of pride. He might not be old enough or strong enough to help Tommy on his own, but at least there is something he can provide for.
That night, a long while after Simon had gone to bed, he hears the beginnings of a fight in the kitchen.
He tries his best to ignore it, but after ten minutes of tossing and turning, he decides to see what’s going on.
“We’ve got an infestation in this house,” his father announces. He’s rifling through the cupboards, looking for bug spray with his mother standing deflated by the broom closet, still recovering from her earlier nap.
Simon could do nothing but watch anxiously with his arms crossed across his chest as his father let his wrath out on his half lucid mother.
She rubbed tiredly at the bags under her eyes and fixed her eyes on her husband, both blatantly ignoring their son.
Simon flinches as his father yanks open another drawer filled to bursting point with odds and ends, sandwich bags and old serviettes pinned between the wooden drawer and countertop as he shoves it closed. He curses when it won’t close properly.
“We don’t have anything,” his mother reiterates slowly, still half clocked out by the pills.
Another cupboard door shuts harshly, crockery clattering on the other side.
“Then fucking buy some. There are cockroaches in the cupboards and moths have eaten through the last of my goods shirts.”
He shakes his head in wild disbelief.
“You hoard everything under the sun. you barely clean, dinner’s never ready when I get home.”
Simon felt himself go lightheaded. He’s been a witness to this particular scripted conversation far too many times.
The next thing that she’ll say is–
“I have two children to raise!”
As if she’s ever actually awake to take care of them.
Either you buy some or you're going back to rehab.”
No, they can’t have her go back to rehab. Even though there was always a lot of tension in the house when his parents were fighting, it was worse when she was away. He was never particularly close with his mother, but his father tended to take his anger out on the children when she was away.
She can’t go away again. He still has the pains from the last time she went away.
“I don’t need to go to rehab–”
“Yes you do. I found the pills you hid in the desk drawer.”
“That’s none of your business, you have no right to meddle with my things!”
“You’re an addict!”
“So are you! Half the time you don’t show up sober from work and heaven knows you’re sky high when you crawl back home from whatever shithole you’ve been drinking in.”
Simon’s eyes shot over to his father who raised his hands in anger, sure he was about to bring down his wrath on his mother who was already covered in half healed bruises under her shirt, Simon had seen them.
In a split second panic, he coughs to alert both of them to his presence.
"What do you want, boy?" His father asks, with exasperation.
"Can't sleep," he makes a lame excuse, just for the sake of trying to avoid witnessing another bout of violence. He doesn't like hearing her cry and the last thing he needs now is for her to go back to the hospital or to rehab.
He's been to the hospital before, but he doesn't know what rehab is. He just knows it means she'll go away for a long time and he can't have that.
"Can't you see we're having an adult conversation? Go back to bed."
"But I can't–"
"Then make a fucking plan, do I have to spell everything out for you?"
Fearing what would happen if he didn't leave, Simon walks off wearily to his room and closes the door, trying his best to drown out the screaming match in the kitchen.
There's a shout and something like glass shatters on the floor, followed by more cursing and he presses his palms tightly into his ears, willing the noise to go away.
He crawls back into bed, pulling the blanket over his head and covering his ears with the pillow, but it barely helps. The cursed walls of the house are so thin he can hear them right on the other side, screaming, swearing, mother in tears.
His heart is racing and there's no way he'll be able to fall asleep like this.
He needs something to help him calm down, to sleep.
Then it hits him, a genius idea, really.
He gets out of bed and quietly opens the door, but his parents are too occupied to notice anyway as he tiptoes across the hall to his parents bedroom and pulls open the study drawer, finding the little bottle of clinking pills in his mother's jewellery box.
He can't count very well, not over fifty. His teachers are concerned about his maths skills, but he won't need that much. His mother takes 4 to get her a good long nap. He'll take the same, it should help him quiet down the noise.
He shakily tosses out a handful, throwing back the rest he's not going to drink before looking at the four intimidatingly large looking pills in his hand. He leaves the room before anyone can find him there and goes to the bathroom to swallow them down. He takes the bottle with him as he shuffles back to bed, just in case the four don’t help him get to sleep fast enough.
He sets the little pill bottle on the nightstand and crawls back in under the lukewarm sheets.
The pills were surprisingly strong, brain already feeling fuzzy and clouded as he laid his head on the pillow and tugged the blanket over his head. His movement is barely coordinated enough for him to be able to complete the action and he frowns at his hand, now an image converging and diverging in the darkness as he struggles to grasp the edge of the duvet to pull it up.
But once he’s managed to grab hold of it, it seems as though all the strength has left his body and he cannot grip it tight enough to pull.
The voices in the kitchen blur together and Simon can no longer distinguish one from the other as he is lulled into a void of silence.
He’s only vaguely aware of what is going on around him, but he can hear his parents in the room, still arguing but closer now and he can hear Tommy crying. He doesn’t know how long he’s been crying, all Simon knows is that it's been a while.
He wants to sit up, but he can’t. In his mind’s eye, he pictures himself pushing up off the bed, imagines it only vaguely in a delicate thread he’s still clinging onto consciousness with, but it's as though his body is frozen and his muscles have gone slack, he’s not lucid enough to get them to cooperate, he’s far gone enough that he accepts it as a fact he’s not even bothered by, just a state of being floating in his periphery, he’s the centre of a endless void, weightless and careless.
His ebbing and swelling grasp on reality helps him pick up pieces of the noise. His mother tries to soothe Tommy’s crying, his father over her shoulder. And then there’s something that sounds vaguely concerned.
The barest outline of a shadow as one of the two– he can’t open his eyes to tell– looms over him.
He hears something about pills.
“–breathing?”
Someone might have been touching him but he couldn’t be sure.
“Barely.”
“Shit. He’s taken four.”
Something that distorts too much to make out.
“I’d know, I count my pills–”
The last thing he hears is something about a hospital before he barely registers a change in the weightlessness, like pressure in his brain as he’s lifted out of his bed in a suppressed whirlwind of panic.
Then it all fades to nothingness.
2019
There’s a level of respect that Soap has to give Captain Price for his recruitment methods.
Albeit somewhat unorthodox and having a pinch more coercion involved than he was really comfortable with, Soap knew that this was his angle since the day they met all those years ago at Credenhill for his training.
Since then, Price has been a difficult man to pin down, finding his way into all kinds of international operations, but he’d taken a liking to Soap then, and it was foolish of him to think he’d get away from that without being roped into one of these high stakes things before Price was done with him.
As was the way of the world, you don’t earn the respect of someone like Captain Price and think you’ll walk away with your hands clean.
Soap knows from experience, rumours that had spread through the base at the time like wildfire, that the Captain doesn't make friends, he collects weapons.
He’d gotten that bit of wisdom from a buddy that didn’t make it past selection at the time. Soap had never heard from him again, but he’d always remember that little thing he’d said when he noticed the man staring at Soap from across the room, arms behind his back, chin tilted up like he was breaking down his physique into stats, similar to the words printed into his dog tags.
Height, weight, agility, speed, strength, age, fitness, and maybe, even if he didn’t want to admit it, how willing he was to sacrifice himself in the line of fire.
Turns out martyrdom isn’t a thing easily bred out of a man fixated on his own self destruction. In standard society, such a trait might have been considered reckless or suicidal, but in this line of work, it was far more honourable, one of the reasons the job had appealed so much to him at the time.
Now, as he sits in the faux leather seat of the plane, kneading his hands into his thighs with his headphones in, he thinks that sixteen-year-old John MacTavish was a testosterone loaded, short sighted idiot of a teenager. No child below the legal drinking age should be signing anything legally binding, especially nothing like this.
He promised to keep himself safe, and it had taken less than a month to break that promise. He promised her he would consider her suggestion for him to resign and he really doesn’t want to do that anymore.
Try as he might to deny it, he likes the adrenaline, how important the job makes him feel to be making a difference.
So, no. Soap would not be throwing in the towel at twenty-five.
It had been Price that dragged him into this precarious situation to begin with, so it only made sense that when he touched down in England, Price would be there waiting for him after he’d collected his suitcase.
With a professional exchange of words, Price led him out of the airport, forgoing a much needed meal in favour of going somewhere private. Making filler small talk, Price led him over to a nondescript car in need of a repaint.
The trunk popped open with a chirp of the alarm and Soap hauled his suitcase into the back with a huff and shut the lid again, pretending not to feel Price's eyes on him as he turned to his side of the car.
"How's your mum doing with this?" Price eventually asks when they're leaving the underground parking and out into the bland city air.
It's stale and stinks of office buildings, smog and apathy. Not all that different from Glasgow, if Soap was being honest.
"She's right pissed about it."
"As expected," Price half grimaced as he turned out onto a road feeding deeper into the heart of the city, returning them to the circulatory system of winding roads and potholed asphalt.
The highway promises a dead end at the other side. This job, this once-off thing for Price felt to Soap like there were a lot more strings attached than he was letting on.
"We'll have you right back to Scotland as soon as the job's done."
"What exactly is the job, sir?" Soap asks.
"I'm afraid I can't tell you too much just yet, but we'll get to that soon– you mind if I smoke one?" Price cut himself off and held up a half smoked cigar in Soap's direction.
"Go ahead."
Soap turned his attention to the congestion of the road holding them up. His mind drifted to that morning by the airport, his mother's last words to him.
"You promised me you wouldn't do this to yourself." His mother has said through tears welling in the corner of her eyes.
They were standing by the baggage drop and the tired woman attending his luggage ignored their emotional moment as she unceremoniously loaded his suitcase onto the conveyor belt and sent it off for loading.
"I know, I know. But I'll make it up to you."
"How do you possibly plan on doing that?" She was a combination of angry and defeated.
"I don't know yet," he confessed sheepishly. "But I will find a way."
"You better, John. You promised me you were going to leave this job behind," she reminded him.
"It isn't that simple," he said. "I've built a life for myself there. Its a good job, with good money. Heaven knows we need it after da's passing."
Soap clasped her fingers in his, planting a little apologetic kiss over her knuckles. Her demeanour doesn't soften in the slightest.
"I know it's simple enough for me to know that you can replace a job, but I can't replace my son if anything were to happen to you. There's more to life than just what you want, John."
He lets her hand go at once, averting his gaze to the boarding announcements. His flight wasn't due to leave for another hour.
Met with no answer, she pushed on. "I know you're ambitious, John. Its one of the most admirable traits about you, but you need to learn when to let things go. Things aren't just about you. We worry. I worry, your sisters worry, we're afraid of losing you. You've had your fun, but its time to move on. Before its too late and you end up with permanent damage."
Soap hasn't the heart to tell her he already has permanent damage and instead opts for a consolatory kiss to her forehead.
"I'll be alright. You'll see."
Before his mother can muster the strength for more pushback, the woman from the luggage clears her throat and they turn to meet her impatient expression.
"If you don't mind, there are other people waiting in line."
Reminded of the uncomfortable situation, Soap's mouth pulled into a tight line.
"I don't appreciate being held on a string, Cap."
“I don’t like withholding information either, but I’m afraid it isn’t my call to make here. Once we reach base we'll cover the details, make sure you know what you're getting yourself into.”
Soap nodded but Price’s words did nothing to calm his unease.
“Will the General be joining us?”
“Not for the briefing, but he's given me all the necessary information to relay to you. He'll be with us in Verdansk, though."
Verdansk. That Glasgow coffee shop conversation. The planned attack on the airport. Soap's head was spinning with the urgency of the situation.
“And your other man?”
Price grimaced around the cigar, letting the smoke go before he made any attempt to respond to Soap.
“He’ll be there. And another guy Shepherd trusts enough to be on this. But he’ll be there.”
Frustrated with the lack of information, Soap leans his head against the window and closes his eyes, tucking his hands into the pockets of his grey hoodie. He’s half asleep a couple of minutes later, but it seems he has actually managed to get a minute of sleep in, because the scenery has drastically changed and the sun seems to sit a bit higher in the sky.
By the look of it, they’re not far off now and will be there any minute.
“Okay, so there’s two things you need to know about my guy,” Price begins. The cigar is gone now. Soap had definitely managed a few blessed minutes of sleep.
“Yes?”
“If he tells you to do something, you do it. I know you have a history of authority issues but he is not the kind of man to try any of that with. If he says he knows better than you about a certain thing, it's because he does.”
That doesn’t sit right with Soap, but he’ll take it.
“And the other thing?”
“Don’t ask questions about his appearance. No personal questions, either. It's for your safety, not his.”
Soap laughs uneasily, throwing sarcasm into his response. “You make him sound real nice.”
“He’s alright. Just a bit of an acquired taste.”
Soap scoffed. “ Coffee is an acquired taste, saying that about a person, it just makes him sound like a dick.”
Price gave a small laugh. “He’s really alright, Soap. But just keep in mind what I said.”
Arrival on base proceeded with little fanfare. They stopped at the gate and Price flashed his ID, drove in and parked on his usual spot.
They’ve got a decent bit to walk and Soap picks up on a strange sort of atmosphere as Price led him over to a room towards the back of the building, ducking them into side corridors and keeping their heads down, only briefly acknowledging the men passing them in the hallway.
“How many people really know what’s going on about this situation?” Soap asked as they turned into an empty corridor.
“Not many, so I suggest you think of a lie if someone asks you what you’re doing here.”
Finally, after a good ten minutes of walking, Price stops outside a closed door at the end of a hallway, hand hovering over the door handle.
“Remember what I said, Soap. Don’t say anything you’ll regret.”
Price turns the doorknob and motions for Soap to step into the room.
It's a small space. The floors are covered in cheap industrial carpeting and the room is windowless, lit by equidistant cool white fluorescent bulbs and still suffocatingly dark because of the near black paint on the walls. In the centre of the room was a long, white conference table, overlooked by a large monitor.
There’s a poor attempt at making the room feel more homely in the form of a potted plant sitting in the corner under the monitor’s mount, but it's so obviously plastic, the small waste bin on the other end of the room looks like it cost more.
For the moment of stale silence, the low humming of the ventilation sets Soap’s nerves on edge as it filters flavourless circulated air into the room and pushes that strange atmosphere to stand at attention.
He’s here again. He was meant to retire. He was meant to hand in his papers for good just a week from now. A week.
Soap feels as though the room is going to suffocate him by the time Price gestures for him to take a seat at the table opposite two other men, but he makes no move to take a seat himself.
It's not until he looks up that Soap really realises what Price had meant about not saying anything he’d regret.
The man adjacent to him is not much older than himself; hazel eyes and lightish brown hair buzzed short. Normal appearing with a kind demeanour, but the other, much larger man across from Soap had a more foreboding presence.
It was almost surreal, seeing Simon Riley for the first time. Soap didn’t need Price’s confirmation to know that this was his ‘other man’, his presence spoke for itself.
Soap understands gimmickry. He understands anonymity. Hell, he understands feeling insecure about his body, or disfigurement, or scarring. But what the fuck is the man wearing a skullfaced balaclava for?
He’s clad head to toe in black. Dark cargo pants, heavy laced boots and thick black cotton hoodie, and a fucking black skull mask.
Was this what Price meant by not asking questions about his appearance? No one had told him it was because the man they were meeting looked more the part of a criminal than a soldier.
But, Soap supposes he did make a promise, and he keeps his mouth shut.
“Seems you’ve decided to join us, Captain,” the man across from Price says.
“Yes. had to pick this one up from the airport first. But without further ado, we should get this over with. You all make friends while I get this thing booted up.”
Price turns to Soap. “Sergeant MacTavish, Sergeant Burns,” he hurriedly introduces the two to each other and they exchange a stiff handshake. Price makes no move to introduce him to the masked man, moving over to the monitor.
“And you must be Lieutenant Riley,” Soap said with a measured smile, extending his hand across the table towards the black clad figure. From what little Soap could see of the man, he did not look impressed.
Almost cruel seeming brown eyes drag over his form, from the outstretched hand to analyse his face for a moment.
Soap’s smile wavered a bit, hand not quite so sure of its position between them anymore before he felt a rough gloved hand take his.
"I prefer Ghost."
Gimmickry and downright cringe. If Soap didn't know better, he might've thought the man was nothing more than a scene kid from the 2000s that didn't quite outgrow that phase in the nineteen years following.
But maybe, he thinks as he remember's Price's words about being an acquired taste and being a good man, he supposes he shouldn't be so quick to judge.
He can't help it sometimes. His nature is hostile even when he has no reason to be.
"Then call me Soap if we're not on a name basis."
The man huffed out an unimpressed acknowledgement, but the grip on Soap’s hand remained light and unintrusive. He lets it go.
A garbled noise to their left alerts Soap to the screen starting up.
"Let's not beat around the bush, shall we. All of you know why you are here. You are here because General Shepherd and myself trust that you are capable of getting the job done and that you understand that nothing discussed here can leave this room. Do you understand?"
A unanimous agreement echoed across the table and Price was content to turn to the monitor to retrieve the remote.
"Over the last couple of years, there's been a series of incidents."
Price brought up an old file on the screen. Some of the text was redacted but the relevant points highlighted.
"In February of 2017, a large shipment of weapons and resources for explosives manufacture out of Urzikstan was found carrying only two thirds of its intended cargo. The rest remains unaccounted for, but with current Russian occupation in Urzikstan, the blame is tentatively given to General Barkov and the Russian army, but he denies any involvement."
Price moves over to another case.
"In July of 2018, a bomb planted in a market in Urzikstan took out half the street, killing six civilians and injuring fifty. Remains of the explosive pointed to it being made with resources from out of Urzikstan. The attack pushed a tentatively balanced agreement between the Russians and Al Qatala, the terrorist group operating in the area, to breaking point. The following conflict led to a bloodbath with Barkov and his men believing Al Qatala was trying to get the West to take note of the situation and take action against the Russians, and Al Qatala believing the Russians set them up to reestablish their hold on Urzikstan. The bomb was later proved to not have come from either, but from an unidentified outside source with the intention to stir up unrest between the groups. But it had its desired effect: four hundred innocent people lost their lives."
Price moved onto another, this time several headlines covering the news from different angles and images of the gruesome scene.
"Following this situation, in August of the same year, a Russian lawmaker threatening to cease the occupation of Urzikstan and order Russian forces to withdraw, was found dead after he 'fell out of' his third storey bedroom window. His pro occupation counterpart soon stepped up to fill the vacant role. There is no legitimate proof of foul play."
Soap clenched and unclenched his hands under the table, keeping his eyes locked on the screen.
"Further, between this, spanning from October of 2016, September 2018, and what we believe might be an impending attack now, there has been a total of eight seemingly random, untraceable terrorist incidents across Europe, which have been largely downplayed by the media."
"Wait," Soap stops him short. "How do we know of this supposed imminent threat?"
"I've been trying to get to the bottom of this for the last four years. I've managed to get connections and I've somehow got myself an anonymous informant."
"An anonymous informant?" Riley– Ghost asks sceptically. "What's to say this isn't some trap you're walking us into?"
Soap doesn't say anything, but his hand comes up to clutch at the metal over his heart.
He knew this was going to be a mistake and he went ahead with it anyway. He should've know, he should've stayed home, he should have handed in those papers–
"The guy's legit. The information he's given is solid and checks out flawlessly. He's given me names, organisations, information about the Russians no one else would know. I've cross referenced the names he's given and locations they allegedly were in at the time of certain events, and it checks out."
"He's Russian?" Burns asks with an equal tone of scepticism. "Do you think he's one of Barkov's men?"
"I honestly can't say," Price says, shaking his head."But I'd rather take his word for it than choose not to believe him and see Makarov blow up an airport because I didn't know how to take a sign."
Soap's hand clutched around the metal. It soothes him a bit. But not much. Not enough.
What the fuck has he gotten himself into now?
Price clicked a button on the little black remote and a familiar face appeared on the screen. Alongside it was a list of basic personal information that had been in the file Price had shown him in Glasgow.
He stood off to the side of the monitor as he addressed the group.
"Vladimir Makarov has an official record of acting radically. He was observed by his teachers in school to have a very serious and driven mindset, expressing genuine interest in dangerous ideology and sometimes getting himself into physical fights. But mostly, his most worrying observed trait was being able to stir up conflict by manipulating a situation between his classmates just right, that the conflict would come about organically, just exposed by changing circumstances without changing anything about how they actually feel about each other. Just reaching the legal age, he joined the Russian military, working under –you guessed it– General Roman Barkov during his initial incursion into Uriskstan. For reasons unclear, he was dishonourably discharged after that. That said, Vladimir Makarov was born on October 4th, 1980 to a high profile family of which three of his immediate family members –his father being one of them– were outspoken politicians during the 70s and 80s, right up until the fall of the Soviet Union."
Price pressed another button and a few scans of old newspaper headlines, cover images and grainy frames from old news reports cropped onto the screen.
"From the day he was born, he was conditioned into being comfortable in front of a camera. How to act in front of outsiders and how to speak to reporters if it came to it."
All the images were candid photographs taken of a middle aged man on various occasions, but they had something else in common. A young child, varying between the ages of what Soap judged to be five and ten, was tucked almost inconspicuously into each of the images.
If Soap hadn't known any better, he might have thought him to be one of the crowd. But he's too well dressed and appears far too frequently for that to be the case.
In the latest of the photos, he's seen being escorted from the scene by a handful of armed security while his father was making a speech.
"The stress of the job was a lot to handle and word was that Makarov's father abused him and his mother during especially hard times. Whatever he was feeling at the time was only exacerbated by the discovery of his father's suicide, shortly after the fall of the Soviet Union. If he's carrying feelings from that formative time in his life as motivation for his present actions, we know what his angle of approach to his attacks are."
"He's holding a grudge?" Ghost asks.
"Most likely," Price confirmed.
"Against who?" This time, it was Soap's turn to ask.
"If he's angry at the job for making his father violent, he'd be by no doubt pissed about it all being for nothing when the fall drives his old man to suicide," Ghost explains.
"So he's angry at the West for interfering?" Burns asks.
"The Russian government, too, for how they handled the situation," Price adds.
Soap frowned, recalling the information he'd been steadily soaking in over the last half hour.
"But then why join the Russian army?"
Price huffed. "Well, we can't speculate too much, but it could be anything from legit experience to high end connections. After all, Makarov does all his arrangements by proxy. Which is why it's so difficult to pin him down. But we have a chance now," he reminded.
"According to my source, we have the exact time and location where Makarov will be planting the bomb. It's now our job to get there and stop him in the act. It's the only way we'll get to him now without compromising staying one step ahead."
"We'll have to cut it very close then," Soap says, trying to keep the discomfort out of his voice.
"When do we leave?"
"If all goes well and we keep this under the radar, we leave for Verdansk tonight."
It isn't much longer until they're free to leave the room and Price sets them with the parting words, grave and serious,"We can't afford to screw up now. As I've said, Makarov does everything by proxy, so the fact that he wants to be there himself means he wants this to make a statement. He wants to put on a show."
Soap finds himself savouring the fresh air. He finds the nearest door to the outside world and finds himself trying to piece himself back together by the wall behind the toilets.
It probably looks a bit pathetic as he's trying to compartmentalise to make the situation seem less of a dumpster fire than it really was.
Fuck. He knew he was going to be getting his hands dirty, but he wants no part in this.
Trying to keep his light meal of refrigerated aeroplane sandwich down, he leans against the wall of his secluded corner and takes a couple of deep breaths.
To hell with trying to explain this one to his mother. He's damn well fucked now. He squeezes his eyes shut and musters a desperate prayer.
Asking for strength, for success so that he doesn't have to walk away with blood on his hands or be sent home to his mother in an urn.
As he opens his eyes, Soap notices a flask of dark movement to his right, the door opening along the wall and of all people, Ghost stepping out.
He's lighting himself a cigarette with his back turned to Soap. Without a doubt, his mask is pulled up slightly above his mouth and he hears the man mutter a curse when the cigarette won't light in the bitter little breeze that's decided to kick up.
He doesn't know Soap is there and Soap doesn't say anything.
But as he watches Ghost walk off in whichever direction with his cigarette in hand, watching those broad shoulders shift with every motion of his body, the muscles pull the fabric of that hoodie taut over his skin, Soap thinks his long gone companion from training was right.
Captain Price does not make friends, he collects weapons.
#soapghost#call of duty#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#cod#fanfiction#fanfic#ghostsoap#ao3 fanfic#ghoap#call of duty modern warfare#the anatomy of starved dogs
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One Night Stand (Revised)
9/13
This chapter is rated teen/ Ao3/ @today-in-fic
Ray’s Deli
Saturday, April 17 1993
*Ding Ding*
The ringing of the bell on the door announces their presence. Walking into the small deli, Emma lodged on one hip, Scully pauses, searching. She spots him, sitting across the room at a small corner table, out of the way of the hustle and bustle of the lunchtime rush. She steadily makes her way towards him and notices a small high chair in place of where a chair should be. Her heart melts, just a bit, realizing he purposefully sought out one for Emma to sit in. He stands as she approaches.
“Hey Scully,” he greets her, a sheepish grin on his face. She thinks it’s adorable, him being cautious, not fully sure how he should act around her now. She gently places Emma into the high chair before gathering some small toys to occupy her. She then focuses on herself, removing her jacket, a lightweight spring one that she places over the back of her chair.
“Hi Mulder, thanks for grabbing the high chair for her,” she offers him a wide smile. Smiling back, he nods, but his eyes wander to Emma, they are magnetized to her face. All he can do is stare. He saw her last night, but it’s as though he’s really and truly seeing her for the first time today. She’s enchanting, the most beautiful child he’s ever seen.
“Emmy, do you remember my friend from last night? Mulder? Can you say hi” Scully prompts the child, gently combing two fingers through her hair. Emma briefly looks up, acknowledging her mother said something to her but then is right back to her toys.
“She’s pretty shy around new people,” Scully explains, grabbing a menu to decide her order. It’s a tactic and she knows it. She frequents this deli enough to know the menu by heart, but having it close gives her something to do with her trembling hands. Mulder nods in recognition and they are quickly interrupted by a well-intentioned waitress, wanting to take their orders. Once the minutiae of ordering is out of the way, they stare at each other, a bit awkwardly, not knowing who should break the silence first.
“When’s her birthday?” Mulder finally asks, unable to handle the silence. He figures it a fairly easy question.
Scully takes a sip of water before answering. “February 15th. She was born in the middle of a blizzard. Some 6 inches of snow on the ground when I went to the hospital.”
“When did you find out?” he asks without elaborating, knowing she knows.
“About six weeks after. There was a stomach bug going around, so I thought I was sick. I was training at Quantico, pushing myself to the brink so I thought it was exhaustion on top of possibly having a bug. My friend Ellen, the one who I was at the bar with that evening, she’s the one who suggested I take a test. I was floored when it came back positive.”
“We were careful, Scully,” he blurts, then lowers his head, embarrassed if anyone overheard him. He looks ashamed, but she gives him a forgiving smile.
“I know Mulder, I was there,” she tells him softly. She realizes she'd been living the life for over two years, while he was just given the information yesterday. Understandably, he needs time to comprehend, to adjust. “Condoms aren’t one hundred percent effective.” She looks at him, looking at Emma, who had abandoned her toys in favor of the crayons and paper that were within her reach.
“Look, Mulder, I know we’re in a strange situation. It is weird and difficult, and awkward as hell. It’s a life that you may or may not have imagined yourself in. I just want you to know that I am ok. Emma is okay. It took a while for us to get to this place, but we are. We are happy and healthy and living our lives. We don’t need anything,” she hopes she doesn’t sound harsh, as it’s certainly not her intention. She wants him to understand that she doesn’t need anything from him.
“Can I ask you a question?” he asks.
“You just did,” she smiles, her attempts at lightening the mood fall slightly flat with the arrival of the waiter and their food. Scully busies herself tending to Emma, cutting her food, and moving the toys. She turns to look at Mulder. “Of course, Mulder, you can ask me anything.”
“If you knew how to get ahold of me, would you have?” He waits for her answer, which comes immediately as the words leave his mouth.
“I never would have kept anything from you. You know, even before I found out I was pregnant, the day after we met, I went through my apartment with a fine tooth comb, looking for anything, any clue, that would give a glimpse as to your identity. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find anything, and it’s not like I could use the FBI database to find you, though nothing would have come up, William,” she emphasizes with a slight laugh. “I wanted to tell you so badly, Mulder. That night we had, it was amazing and I tried to deny the connection, if I’m being honest, because it terrified me. Never in a million years did I expect any of this to happen, even though she’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.” She pauses, ruffling Emma’s hair. In turn, Emma provides a fistful of pancakes into Scully’s mouth, which makes Mulder bark out a surprised laugh. Emma, understanding she did something funny, attempts to do it again, much to Scully’s amusement.
After wiping her syrupy face, Scully continues. “Look, Mulder, when you sat in that hotel room in Oregon and disclosed everything you’d been through with Samantha, well it made me realize that I couldn’t dump this situation on you, not that Em is a situation, but you know what I mean. You have so much going on with your work and your search for the truth. You said it yourself; nothing else matters–”
“But Scully,” he interrupts. She holds a hand up, indicating she’s not finished. Her voice is steady and even when she continues.
“I love my job, but Emma is my world, my everything. She comes first in my life, no matter what. I live and breathe for her and we have a pretty good life going for us. She’s not lacking anything. My intent is not for you to feel like you need to step in or step up. I’m going to leave it up to you, but I don’t want you to feel pressure. If you want to be in her life as my friend and co-worker, that’s fine. If you want to be cool Uncle Mulder, that’s okay too. If you decide that you want to be a father to her, I won’t stop you. But the one thing I absolutely will not tolerate is having her hurt by significant people going in and out of her life,” she pauses to let him digest the information and after a moment passes, she adds, “I don’t want an answer from you right now. It’s a big decision and I want you to take some time to think about it.”
He hears Scully’s words, but can’t help his continued gaze at Emma. Deep in his heart, he knows he’s already falling in love with her. He acknowledges Scully’s words with a slight nod, not trusting his voice.
“It might change our working relationship or this friendship we seem to be developing, but I’m willing to try and figure it out if it’s something you want,” she tells him.
“Scully,” he says, finally finding his forgotten voice. She looks at him, her skeptical gaze searing into Mulder’s memory. He pushes forward with his request. “I’d like to spend the day with you ladies if that’s okay. Scully looks at Emma, who’s polished off most of her pancakes, at least the ones she didn’t feed to Scully, smiles, and nods.
Scully Residence
Saturday, April 17 1993
Exhaustion. He feels it from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Every body part aches and he feels as though he could sleep a million hours. But his heart is full, bursting at the seams. He nurses a beer as he sinks further into Scully’s couch and thinks about the day he had. Once they’d finished lunch it was decided that an adventure to the local park was needed. At first, Mulder was hesitant. Mr. ‘willing to jump into any dangerous situation that crossed his path’ was nervous about playing with a small child. He’d sat back and watched Scully interact with her daughter; his daughter; their daughter. She’d pushed her on the swing, crawled up the plaything, down the slide, and chased her around the woodchips. He wasn’t sure who his eye was drawn to more, Emma or her mother. He would have been content to sit there all day, just watching them in their blissful happiness.
Out of the blue, Emma toddled up to him, grasped his pinky finger, which dwarfed her microscopic hand, and attempted to pull him to the swings. “Push,” she demanded with a giggle. Mulder had looked at Scully, looking for permission. The mega-wat smile on her face was all he needed. He lifted Emma, placed her on the rough material, and started pushing. He was overcome with joy, as well as astonishment. He couldn’t believe how light and little she was. She clapped her hands and squealed with the delight of a child on a summer day each time Mulder’s hand connected with her back. Every so often, he would turn to face Scully, needing assurance that he was still doing okay, and each time he was rewarded with a smile.
After their romp at the park, Mulder suggested a quest for ice cream, which delighted Emma. He wasn’t sure if more of the melted cone ended up in the little one’s stomach or on her face and clothing. The icing on the proverbial cake was when Emma decided to reenact feeding Scully and Scully ended up with melted chocolate ice cream on her face and in her hair, and though she tried to be annoyed, she laughed right along with Mulder and Emma. Without thinking, Mulder took a napkin and dapped at the sticky substance on her cheek. He couldn’t get over how natural the day had felt.
Squeals of delight brought him back to the present. Scully was bathing Emma, possibly unsuccessfully if the sounds coming from the bathroom were any indication. It sounded more like an exuberant playtime. What am I going to do, he thinks to himself while he waits for them to finish. Knowing he has a monumental decision to make, he takes another sip of beer. It’s a two-fold problem. No, problem isn’t the right term because any fool would be lucky to be in his shoes. But it was an issue he had to address, sooner rather than later. He’s a father, and nothing would change that. Emma had already captured his heart with her soft eyes, warm smile, and joyful attitude. If it was just about Emma, his choice would be easy. But who’s he kidding? None of this is easy. There’s Emma, and then there’s Scully. He’d be lying to himself if he admitted he didn’t think about that night often. How easily they communicated that night, how much fun they had, and how mindblowing the sex was. He was also really enjoying working with her on the X-files. She challenged him in ways he’d never been challenged before. She made him think and work for his theories. How sustainable would the partnership be? Would he be able to be a father to his child and just be a friend to her mother? There were so many questions racing through his mind.
“I started to put her down,” her voice startles him. He turns to see Scully, holding a pajama-clad Emma. “She keeps saying ‘Mudder’ so I’m thinking she wants to say goodnight to you.” Emma reaches out her arms to Mulder as Scully comes closer and Mulder’s arms automatically lift to receive her.
“Goodnight sweet Emma,” he nuzzles into her cheek.
“Night Mudder,” her sweet voice carries through the room. She yawns and snuggles into his chest, her eyelids heavy and her thumb going straight into her mouth.
“Do you want to put her to bed?” Scully asks in a hushed tone. He nods and stands, ever so carefully, a man holding the most precious gift, and follows Scully to Emma’s room. He places her, softly, into her crib. Instinctively, he kisses his fingers and then places them onto Emma’s cheek, before smoothing her hair out of her face. They carefully back out of the room and retreat to the front of Scully’s apartment, Scully, in search of a glass of wine, and Mulder, in search of his half-finished beer.
Once enveloped in the couch, Scully lets out a monstrous yawn after giving Mulder a shy and apologetic smile. “I love her so much, but she can be exhausting at times.” Mulder gives her a skeptical glance and redacts her statement. “Okay, all of the time.” Mulder nods approvingly.
They sit in silence for a while before Mulder praises her. “I don’t know how you do it, Scully. I barely survived the day.”
“You get used to it and it helps that she is a good girl. My family helped out a lot in the beginning. They still help a lot since I am working more now,” she explains.
“Will you…” he starts but trails off. He hesitates, watching her sip her wine.
Sensing his trepidation, she gives an encouraging nod. “What, Mulder? Ask me, it’s okay. I told you I would tell you anything.” Her voice is soft and reassuring.
“Would you feel comfortable enough to tell me about her birth? I don’t mean the details, you don’t have to share those, but maybe just the experience?” Scully is taken by surprise. The request is the furthest thing she thought he would ask. Smiling, she nods and takes his hand. Then she begins.
#dana scully#fox mulder#the x files fanfic#x files#au fanfiction#msr#msr fanfic#baby Emma#family day#how will this work
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Typography Tuesday
Presented here are examples of assembled type ornaments designed by English artist, designer, and college administrator David Bethel (1923-2006) for the Monotype Corporation, including his Glint (1955), Scorpio (1958), and Blaze (1958) ornaments. The noted typography scholar and long-time marketing manager for the Monotype Corporation Beatrice Warde was a great champion of Bethel’s Glint ornaments, and even invented the Glint Game where participants try to make as many typographical arrangements with the Glint ornaments as possible. The game is still played today, and there is even a Glint Club dedicated to the pursuit of the game.
These images are from David Bethel’s article “Creating Printer’s Flowers,” published in Matrix 13, Winter 1993, pp. 103-112. The first image is a tipped-in letterpress-printed display sheet of Glint ornaments by Milwaukee-born letterpress printer and book artist Michael Tarachow, who would later publish a sample-sheet portfolio entitled The Glint Ornaments at Work and Play under his Pentagram Press imprint. The rest are type displays reproduced from the Monotype Recorder as part of the article.
Curious side note: Michael Tarachow grew up in Milwaukee and started his press here; he even worked at the UWM Library for a time. The post we did yesterday on the Dell comic book version of The Wizard of Oz was owned by Tarachow when he was a child, and was donated to us by his mother Joan Tarachow. We love when things just kind of fall into place.
Matrix 13 was printed in an edition of 925 copies by John and Rosalind Randle at the Whittington Press in England, and is a donation from our friend Jerry Buff.
View more posts from Matrix.
View other posts relating to the Whittington Press.
View more Typography Tuesday posts.
#Typography Tuesday#typetuesday#type ornaments#printer's flowers#David Bethel#Glint ornaments#Glint Game#Glint Club#Scorpio ornaments#Blaze ornaments#Beatrice Warde#Michael Tarachow#Typography Tuesday#Pentagram Press#Monotype Corporation#Monotype Recorder#Matrix#Matrix 13#John and Rosalind Randle#Whittington Press#Jerry Buff#type display
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i will say one good thing for Born Yesterday (1993), the physical comedy was spot on for these guys
#dj skitters like a dog that just heard fireworks 😂#don johnson#melanie griffith#john goodman#90s movies#dnly gifs#film
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The complete list of films featured on this blog’s 2024 “31 Days of Oscar” marathon
Hello everyone,
Thank you once more for allowing me to present this annual marathon of Oscar-nominated films to your dashboards. This year, the films were grouped by category (for the most part, one day featured only films nominated in a particular category). This is the most exclusive period on this blog, as the selection of films that I can post and queue about is at its most limited. But at the same time, the blog is at its most accessible as this yearly marathon’s selection skews to more popular fare than what I usually queue. I hope you enjoyed this year’s presentation of 31 Days of Oscar once more!
What follows is the exhaustive list of all 381 short- and feature-length films featured on this blog over the last thirty-one days for the 31 Days of Oscar marathon. This is down from 2022’s record of 420. But that count remains only a fraction of the 5,145 films that have been nominated for Academy Awards since 1927 (excluding Honorary Oscar winners that weren't nominated in a competitive category).
Of those 382, 28 were short films (53 short films is the record, which was set in 2022). 354 were feature films.
BREAKDOWN BY DECADE
1927-1929: 10
1930s: 51
1940s: 54
1950s: 44
1960s: 42
1970s: 26
1980s: 26
1990s: 23
2000s: 26
2010s: 26
2020s: 54
TOTAL: 382 (380 last year)
Year with most representation (2023 excluded): 1938 and 1942 (9 films each)
Median year: 1966
Time for the list. 59 Best Picture winners and the one (and only) winner for Unique and Artistic Production that I featured this year are in bold. Asterisked (*) films are films I haven’t seen in their entirety as of the publishing of this post. Films primarily not in the English language are accompanied with their nation(s) of origin.
The ten Best Picture nominees for the 96th Academy Awards, including the winner, Oppenheimer (2023)
The fifteen nominees in the short film categories for the 96th Academy Awards
À nous la liberté (1931, France)
The Adventures of Don Juan (1938)*
The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)
Albert Schweitzer (1957)*
Alexander’s Ragtime Band (1938)
Alice Adams (1935)*
Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore (1974)*
Aliens (1986)
All About Eve (1950)
All Quiet on the Western Front (1930)
All That Jazz (1979)*
Amadeus (1984)
Amarcord (1973, Italy)
An American in Paris (1951)
An American Werewolf in London (1981)*
Anatomy of a Murder (1959)
Anne of the Thousand Days (1969)*
The Apartment (1960)
Aquamania (1961 short)
Autumn Sonata (1978, Sweden)
Avatar (2009)
Avatar: The Way of Water (2022)
The Awful Truth (1937)
The Bad and the Beautiful (1952)
Bad Day at Black Rock (1955)
The Band Wagon (1953)
The Barefoot Contessa (1954)
Batman (1989)
Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Becket (1964)*
Before the Rain (1993, Macedonia)*
Ben-Hur (1959)
The Best Years of Our Lives (1946)
Bicycle Thieves (1948, Italy)
The Big Country (1958)
The Big House (1930)
Black Narcissus (1947)
The Black Swan (1942)
BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Blazing Saddles (1974)
Blue Valentine (2010)*
Bonnie and Clyde (1967)
Born Yesterday (1950)*
The Boy and the Heron (2023, Japan)
Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992)*
Braveheart (1995)
Brief Encounter (1945)
Brigadoon (1954)
Bullitt (1968)
Butterflies Are Free (1972)*
Cabaret (1972)
Caged (1950)
The Caine Mutiny (1954)
Can You Ever Forgive Me? (2018)
Captain Blood (1935)
Casablanca (1942)
Cavalcade (1933)
Chico and Rita (2010, Spain)
Children of a Lesser God (1986)
The Children of Theatre Street (1977)*
Cimarron (1931)
The Circus (1928)
Citizen Kane (1941)
Cleopatra (1963)
A Clockwork Orange (1971)
CODA (2021)
The Color Purple (1985)
Come and Get It (1936)*
Common Threads: Stories from the Quilt (1989)*
El Conde (2023, Chile)*
Cool Hand Luke (1967)
The Country Girl (1954)*
Cries and Whispers (1972, Sweden)*
Crossfire (1947)
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000, Taiwan)
The Crowd (1928)
Dances with Wolves (1990)
Dangerous (1935)*
Days of Waiting (1991 short)*
The Deer Hunter (1978)
The Departed (2006)
Desert Victory (1942)*
Disraeli (1929)*
The Divine Lady (1929)*
Doctor Zhivago (1965)
Dodsworth (1936)
Double Indemnity (1944)
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1932)
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1941)
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Mouse (1947 short)
Drive My Car (2021, Japan)
Driving Miss Daisy (1989)
Dune (2021)
8½ (1963, Italy)
Elemental (2023)
The Elephant Whisperers (2022 short, India)
Elmer Gantry (1960)
Emma (1932)*
The Empire Strikes Back (1980)
Encanto (2021)
The English Patient (1996)
Ernest & Celestine (2012, Belgium/France/Luxembourg)
The Eternal Memory (2023, Chile)
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)*
Everything Everywhere All At Once (2022)
Fantastic Voyage (1966)
Far From Heaven (2002)*
A Farewell to Arms (1932)
Fiddler on the Roof (1971)
The Firemen’s Ball (1967, Czechoslovakia)*
Five Star Final (1931)*
Flee (2021, Denmark)
Flower Drum Song (1961)
For All Mankind (1989)
Forbidden Planet (1956)
Foreign Correspondent (1940)
Forrest Gump (1994)
42nd Street (1933)
Four Daughters (1938)*
Four Daughters (2023, France/Germany/Tunisia/Saudi Arabia)*
Freedom on My Mind (1994)
Frida (2002)*
The Front Page (1931)*
Funny Girl (1968)
Gandhi (1982)
Gaslight (1944)
Gentleman’s Agreement (1947)
Giant (1956)
Gladiator (2000)
The Godfather (1972)
The Godfather Part II (1974)
Godzilla Minus One (2023)
Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933)
Goldfinger (1964)
Gone with the Wind (1939)
The Goodbye Girl (1977)
Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939)
Gosford Park (2001)
Grand Prix (1966)
The Grandmaster (2013, Hong Kong/China)*
The Grapes of Wrath (1940)
The Great Dictator (1940)
Great Expectations (1946)*
The Great Race (1965)
Green Dolphin Street (1947)*
Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (1967)
Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957)
Gypsy (1962)*
Hamlet (1948)
The Heiress (1949)
Henry V (1944)
Henry V (1989)
Hercules (1997)
Here Come the Waves (1945)*
High Noon (1952)
How Green Was My Valley (1941)
How the West Was Won (1962)
How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World (2019)
The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1939)
The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out of the WIndow and Disappeared (2013, Sweden/France Germany)
The Hurt Locker (2008)
If Anything Happens I Love You (2020 short)
In America (2003)*
In the Heat of the Night (1967)
Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny (2023)
The Informer (1935)
Investigation of a Citizen Above Suspicion (1970, Italy)*
Io Capitano (2023, Italy)*
It Happened One Night (1934)
JFK (1991)*
Juno (2007)
Kung Fu Panda (2008)
Lady for a Day (1933)
The Last Command (1927)
The Last Emperor (1987)
The Last Picture Show (1971)
Laura (1944)
Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
A Letter to Three Wives (1949)
Life Is Beautiful (1997, Italy)
Lilies of the Field (1963)
Lincoln (2012)
The Little Foxes (1941)*
Lolita (1962)
The Longest Day (1962)
The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003)
The Lost Weekend (1945)
Love Affair (1939)*
The Love Parade (1929)
Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing (1955)
Loving Vincent (2017)
Lust for Life (1956)
The Magnificent Ambersons (1942)
Malcolm X (1992)
A Man for All Seasons (1966)
The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956)
The Man Who Skied Down Everest (1975)
March of the Penguins (2005, France)
Marie Antoinette (1938)*
Marty (1955)
Mary Poppins (1964)
Meet Me in St. Louis (1944)
Merrily We Live (1938)*
The Merry Widow (1934)
Mickey’s Orphans (1931 short)
Midnight in Paris (2011)
Milk (2008)*
Million Dollar Baby (2004)
Minari (2020)
Miracle on 34th Street (1947)
The Miracle Worker (1962)*
Mogambo (1953)*
Moneyball (2011)*
Monsieur Hulot's Holiday (1953, France)
Monsieur Lazhar (2011, Canada)
Moonstruck (1987)*
The More the Merrier (1943)
Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936)
Mrs. Miniver (1942)
Munich (2005)*
The Music Man (1962)
My Fair Lady (1964)
My Man Godfrey (1936)*
Napoleon (2023)*
National Velvet (1944)
Naughty Marietta (1935)*
Network (1976)
Never on Sunday (1960, Greece)*
Nimona (2023)
No Country for Old Men (2007)
None But the Lonely Heart (1944)*
North by Northwest (1959)
Now, Voyager (1942)
The Nun’s Story (1959)
Odd Man Out (1947)*
On Golden Pond (1981)
On the Waterfront (1954)
Out of Africa (1985)
Papillon (1973)
Parasite (2019, South Korea)
A Passage to India (1984)*
Patton (1970)
Penny Serenade (1941)
Perfect Days (2023, Japan)*
Persepolis (2007, France)
Phantom Thread (2017)
The Philadelphia Story (1940)
Pillow Talk (1959)
Planet of the Apes (1968)
Platoon (1986)
Pollock (2000)*
Popeye the Sailor Meets Sindbad the Sailor (1936 short)
The Pride of the Yankees (1942)
The Prince of Egypt (1998)
The Prisoner of Zenda (1937)
The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939)*
The Public Enemy (1931)
Pulp Fiction (1994)
Pygmalion (1938)
Quo Vadis (1951)
The Quiet Man (1952)
Raging Bull (1980)
Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)
Rain Man (1988)
Raintree County (1957)*
Random Harvest (1942)
Rashômon (1950, Japan)
The Razor's Edge (1946)
Rebecca (1940)
Rejected (2000 short)
Return of the Jedi (1983)
Rhapsody in Rivets (1941 short)*
The Robe (1953)*
Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991)*
Robot Dreams (2023, Spain)
Rocky (1976)
Roma (2018, Mexico)
Roman Holiday (1953)
Room (2015)
Rustin (2023)*
Sadie Thompson (1928)*
Schindler's List (1993)
Searching for Sugar Man (2012)
Seconds (1966)*
Sergeant York (1941)
7 Faces of Dr. Lao (1964)
7th Heaven (1927)*
Shall We Dance (1937)
The Shawshank Redemption (1994)
She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949)
The Shop on Main Street (1965, Czechoslovakia)
Silence (2016)*
The Silence of the Lambs (1991)
The Silent Child (2017 short)
The Sin of Madelon Claudet (1931)
Singin' in the Rain (1952)
The Sixth Sense (1999)*
Society of the Snow (2023, Spain)*
The Sound of Music (1965)
Spellbound (1945)
Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023)
Spotlight (2015)
Stagecoach (1939)
A Star Is Born (1937)
A Star Is Born (1954)
Star Trek: First Contact (1996)
Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home (1986)
Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country (1994)
Star Wars (1977)
Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015)
Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace (1999)
Star Wars: Episode III – Revenge of the Sith (2005)
The Sting (1973)
La Strada (1954, Italy)
A Streetcar Named Desire (1951)
Strike Up the Band (1940)
Sun Valley Serenade (1941)
Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (1927)
Sunset Boulevard (1950)
Superman (1978)
Superman Returns (2006)
Suspicion (1941)
The Tale of the Princess Kaguya (2013, Japan)
A Tale of Two Cities (1935)*
The Teachers’ Lounge (2023, Germany)
Terms of Endearment (1983)
Test Pilot (1938)*
The Thief of Bagdad (1940)
The Thin Man (1934)
To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)
Tom Jones (1963)*
The Tragedy of Macbeth (2021)
The Triplets of Belleville (2003, France)
12 Angry Men (1957)
20 Days in Mariupol (2023, Ukraine)
2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
The Two Mouseketeers (1952 short)
Up (2009)
The Valley of Decision (1945)*
Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008)*
War Horse (2011)
West Side Story (1961)
Whiplash (2014)
The White Helmets (2016 short)
Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988)
The Window (1949)*
Wings (1927)
Winnie the Pooh and Tigger Too (1974 short)
Witness for the Prosecution (1957)
The Wizard of Oz (1939)
The Woman in Red (1984)*
Woman in the Dunes (1964, Japan)*
Written on the Wind (1956)*
Wuthering Heights (1939)
Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942)
You Can’t Take It with You (1938)
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Here, have some analysis literally no one asked for.
As far as I can tell, there are very few, if any, dramatizations of the original YJ kids that come close to their portrayals in the comics. For instance, there are plenty of animated and live-action adaptations that feature a Superboy/Conner Kent, but most bear little to no resemblance in personality and origin to the Kon-El of the 1990s/early 2000s comics. There are two versions that I am aware of that actually do specifically adapt the original Kesel-and-Grummett Kon, and these adaptations have something in common: they try to correct some of the problematic areas of the character's story.
Kon's first appearance in the comics includes such things as
his romantically pursuing and being pursued by adult women who are fully aware that he is physically sixteen but chronologically more or less born yesterday;
adults exploiting his naivete for their own gain;
and Superman's preventing Project Cadmus from killing him but doing nothing to keep him out of their ownership or away from the control of his corrupt manager.
This sets Kon up for a hundred-issue-long solo comic in which nearly every adult in his life fails him and he's left to blunder through life with minimal guidance while assuming everything that happens to him is either normal or his fault. It's a worrisome story, and while I do think it could be adapted as a deconstruction with full recognition that This Is Messed Up, neither of the adaptations I'm about to discuss have that scope and thus need to adjust some things.
First there's BBC Radio's Superman: Doomsday and Beyond (1993). This is an adaptation of the whole Death of Superman/Reign of the Supermen storyline that the comics were running that year. You can listen to the whole thing on YouTube; it's pretty good!
Kon's appearance in this adaptation is diminished from his role in the corresponding comics, most likely for concerns of brevity with such a sprawling story to cover. Nothing about the character is changed; he is a clone created by Cadmus who escapes, calls himself Superman, and joins in the climactic battle when the real Superman is restored to life. He appears to be a teenager, wears shades and a leather jacket, and flirts with every woman he meets. This Kon is voiced by an adult doing his best dopey teenager impression, which is hard to take seriously. Not that the character is very serious, but in moments when he needs to be heroic instead of the arrogant, petulant comic relief, it's not so effective.
The major change is in how his relationships with women are depicted. Tana Moon, the twenty-three-year-old reporter who gets her big break using him for a story and later goes on to be his love interest, is included in this adaptation. But instead of her eventually pushing for a romantic relationship, the interest is portrayed as completely one-sided on his part. He complains to her that she stood him up on an attempted date (...while calling her "man"), but she's too busy warning him that her employers are using him to respond. This Tana is also not complicit in the exploitation, unlike in the comics.
Roxy Leech is mentioned as the reason Kon so readily makes a deal with her father, but her role is nonspeaking, so her advances toward him as portrayed in the comics (including a creepy innuendo-ridden conversation over a video game played with joysticks) are omitted, and Kon just comes across as one-sidedly silly and immature rather than preyed upon. Which isn't...wonderful characterization, but relatively? less bad? than the original.
The full exploration of his tactile telekinesis and exact origins aren't explored (his last line is his conceding the Superman title back to Clark), but there's a line that does hint at the heart of the character. When trying to convince Tana to go out with him, he tells her he's been cleaning up his jacket and costume and insists that "if the original Superman was alive he'd be proud to have me for a clone." Not a line from the comics, but in keeping with his desperation to be accepted and meet expectations.
The need to correct Kon's story is more marked in the animated film Reign of the Supermen (2019). This is a much looser adaptation of that storyline and reinterprets Kon's backstory through the retconned lens of his being a clone of both Superman and Lex Luthor, created not by Cadmus but by LexCorp to be a pawn.
There is no Cadmus in this version, no Paul Westfield, no Dubbilex, no Tana Moon, no Rex and Roxy Leech. This Kon is still an exploited child, but this time that comes solely from Luthor, who is kind of a "stage parent" toward his clone and at one point almost kills him for failing to perform as desired.
This Kon is still very eager for female attention, but all his admirers while he's enjoying celebrity status are teenage girls around his (physical) age, not adult women. He still attempts to hit on older women, but this is portrayed as an effect of his lack of social skills, and unlike in the comics, the women are always disgusted. Mercy Graves complains that he's "too handsy" for her liking, and Lois Lane finds his attempts to flirt with her (starting by asking how old she is and insisting he's "old enough") "revolting."
Nevertheless, this version of the character has more adults who try to look out for him. Dabney Donovan, the scientist who created him, is kindly toward him and begs Luthor not to kill the boy--at the expense of his own life. (Cf. Donovan in the comics, who doesn't have that role and is rather villainous.) Even though Lois is annoyed by the boy, she's friendly toward him the few times they encounter each other. It's implied that something in his DNA from Clark makes him feel comfortable opening up to her. He confides his disappointment in learning about the human side of his DNA, and she reassures him. Almost like what Tana's role was intended to be for him, but minus the creepy grooming and using him to further her career.
Clark is taken aback when Kon addresses him as "Dad" when they finally meet, but he listens patiently to Kon's account of his "harrowing" life so far and refuses Luthor's demands for the return of his clone--"The boy stays with me!" Kon makes it clear that he wants to live with Clark. That doesn't work out, obviously, but the film's epilogue includes the newly renamed Conner's going to live with the Kents. ("Aww," Lois comments. "They'll eat him alive.") This changed ending is a practical choice, glossing over the comics' long complicated interval of his being more or less on his own, but it also rewrites his story so that more concern is shown for his welfare as a child/minor. He's being sent to a loving, stable home instead of being left to the exploitation of unscrupulous adults.
(...and then apparently this film series goes on to unceremoniously kill him off in the next installment, which negates everything, but for purposes of this discussion, I am choosing to ignore this.)
Anyway, here's where I should say something very intelligent about why adaptations make the choices that they do that would wrap all this up brilliantly, but this is all I've got. Except...note the difference in the adaptations' choices by date. The 1993 radio adaptation diminishes predatory behavior but tends to hold Kon in contempt for his gullibility. The 2019 film was more like THAT'S A CHILD and handled him mostly accordingly. Which I would consider a step up in character interpretation.
#comicsposting again#the film is BY NO MEANS Great Cinema#but its Kon is probably the best part#very close in personality to his canon self
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Started writing the first chapter yesterday of my high school 9-1-1 Lone Star au.
I am thinking about naming it is maybe little boy don't you cry, cause the child in you is still alive or daddy can you die from a broken heart or maybe something completely different.
Instead of Owen moving Tk when he is 24/25 to Texas in 2020 he does it in 2010 when Tk is 14 almost 15.
We don't actually know what year Tk was born but based on the math and different sources he was born in December of 1993, 1994, 1995 or 1996. I was born in 1995 and was in the ninth grade in 2010 so, in my fan-fiction I am making Tk born in December 1995.
I wanted to make Tk a theatre art kid because I was and am still an actor and still make art but I feel like he was more of a band, music and sports kid. The amount of theatre, art and band kids that are also emo kids is kind of funny.
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I grew up obsessed with giraffes. when I was 7 years old I was diagnosed with Type one diabetes, my parents promised me when I out of the hospital we could go to Disney World. When in Animal Kingdom, one of the giraffes had just had a baby and I loved it. I came home from the trip and went to my school library and checked out all the books I could find about them! While my art may not be a perfect giraffe print, infact it looks more like a cheetah; however two things stuck with me. 1. Giraffes coats are like fingerprints, no two are the same. 2. Female giraffes are taller then males, this specifically stuck with me as I was always one of the tallest in my class, it made me feel that even if I was taller, I was as powerful as a giraffe.
(1) I have two core childhood memories about orcas. Free Willy came out in 1993 when I was three years old. I remember Michael Jackson, the global superstar of the moment, did the theme song for the movie, and it was a sensation of a film that lasted well beyond its release date. I can still hear and visualize the opening scene where Jackson is on stage singing "Will You Be There." The film had a profound impact on me, and at a very young age, I could recognize how harmful orca captivity is. I remember going to SeaWorld when I was seven, and it haunted me to see the orca entertaining the audience in such a small environment. As I've grown older, I've realized that I strongly support the movement against keeping orcas in captivity. It goes against their natural way of life, as they are meant to swim up to 40 miles daily and not be confined solely for profit. These magnificent creatures have incredible personal strength and a strong sense of community. Their communication within their pods is unique to
each group, which is why I created this artwork to honor them.
Being that I was born in the early 2000s (2003) Halloween Town was the biggest movie on Disney channel. 20 years later it is a family tradition to have popcorn with orange-white chocolate drizzled on top and watch the movie with my brother (16- who thinks he is way to cool for it) and mom.
(3) I was born in 2003, The Columbia disaster happened, when NASAS space shuttle was destroyed in space and killed 7 astronouts. I never knew about this until I was researching for this project, I feel that this is something that should be talked about as it cost 7 people their lives.
I can still remember it like it was yesterday, I would put on Justin Bieber and give my mom a concert of the whole My World 2.0 album, when Baby came on it was my time to shine- when the lyrics “when I was 13, I had my first love”. I remember thinking I was going to fall in love and never stop. Truth be told I fell in love at 14 and it wasn't how Justin Bieber could have ever sang about it. It did however play on repeat for 5 hours though my breakup two years later, a full circle moment.
youtube
"the color or the fruit, need wader no longer" (89)
This quote symbolizes that two polar opposite things can be catorgized into one category, it is not until they leave the group that they get to be truly themselves.
(Homework for 9/18-9/26)
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Spent six hours driving up from a lovely visit with my sisters yesterday and listening, with increasing delight and wonder, to poet Stephen Kuusisto's memoir Have Dog, Will Travel about the experience of receiving his first guide dog, Corky, at 39. I... was not expecting the book to be quite so relatable on the disability front: Kuusisto was born blind with, as is common for blind people, very limited visual information to work with. Being born in 1955, his parents raised him to hide his disability at all costs and pass as sighted, which he successfully managed with difficulty until he lost his job lecturing on poetry in 1993 and was unable to continue masking. Much of the book is about his relationship with the experience of transitioning to being the level of visibly disabled that handling a guide dog entails. There are also some really interesting digressions on history, especially in terms of disability advocacy and dog training, that I would like to follow up on and expand with a little research legwork.
Kuusisto is an incredibly writer and I really want to meditate further on the work over time. I would like to spend some time either queuing quotes I think are particularly good or setting up a little book club to chew it over chapter by chapter when I don't have a splitting headache. Both of these things are more fun if other people take joy in them, though, and I know lots of people following me have strong interests in dogs and disabilities and both. So: if you're interested enough to read that...
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(x)
Mercury was gay lover of Nureyev
By WILL STEWART and IGOR MONICHEV in Moscow
Letters reveal affair between AIDS stars
ROCK star Freddie Mercury had a passionate affair with ballet dancer Rudolph Nureyev, according to a book out today.
The highly intimate account draws on letters written by Nureyev in which he admitted to the secret liaison.
Both stars died from AIDS — Mercury in Noverber 1991 and the emigre Russian in January 1993.
The letters are full of lurid descriptions of Nureyev's homosexual encounters across the world — both casual and longer lasting.
Mostly they contain nicknames or acronyms for his many lovers. But after describing Mercury as "Eddie", he is then fully named.
Once, according to Nureyev, he cancelled all rehearsals and asked his theatre management for a week's leave so that he could spend time with Mercury.
"When it comes to homosexual love, lies are inevitable," he wrote.
On another occasion, he recalled how a frantic Mercury left a message for him after not being able to contact him by phone: "Called you. Will call again in ten minutes. Lover."
The instant Nureyev came through the door, the phone rang again. It was Mercury — and it turned out he was calling from a plane en route to another liaison.
"At last!" said the Mercury. "These unbearable 12 hours between two continents kill me, Rudy."
"What's happened?" asked Nureyev.
"Nothing,” replied the singer. “It’s just that I can't stand it any more without you.
"Usual thing... I can't eat or drink. I'm on my way to you. My Boeing is crossing Mexico at the moment.”
Nureyev said there was a kiss down the phone — and then silence.
Teased
He wrote how Mercury would turn up unannounced at dawn, rushing into his room undressing on the way — and carrying a bottle of Camus brandy.
"He is really very loud, switching on immediately all the electrical devices in the kitchen.
“Oh, I love his arrivals at my place in Kew Gardens!"
The dancer chided Mercury for his "multi-hour phone conversations from the other side of the ocean" — which Nureyev had to pay for.
But he added: "Who can blame us? We're spending our fortunes without investing into pensions funds, medical insurance and the rest of what other people always must do.
“We both foresee our inevitable future."
There is a suggestion that Nureyev was close to Mercury at the time of his death — even that he was present.
It is in this passage that, for the first time, the rock star is named.
Nureyev wrote: "He wanted to die alone in his house in London — which was alien to him. It rained and I was crying at the hall of Great Freddie Mercury. He died quietly without much pain.
"And I knew it was about two years or less until I would meet there."
The book — Rudy Nureyev Without Make-up — will go on sale in St Petersburg, today.
This carries out Nureyev's dying wish that his correspondence should be made public first in his native country.
The book, written by Yuri Matthew Ryuntyu, is based mainly on 49 letters apparently sent by Nureyev to Patrick White, Australia's Nobel Prize-winning author who died in 1990.
Ryuntyu was born in Russia but has lived most of his life in Australia.
He claimed yesterday that he obtained the letters from White with Nureyev's permission.
They outline intimate details of the dancer's many affairs and the difficult times faced by gays both in Russia and in the West. The millionaire star also tells of the terrible loneliness which forced him into the streets of big cities in search of someone to share his bed with.
Ryuntyu said: "In all I got more than 115 letters from White and Nureyev himself."
Many were repetitious and he drew on less than half of these in preparing his manuscript.
"I believe some of the letters would fetch £6,000 on the open market but this collection will go to my daughter as a wedding gift," he said.
He added: "There is no doubt in my mind that there was a close sexual relationship between Nureyev and Mercury."
While the pair appeared publicly together, for example at an open air music festival in Barcelona in 1988, they successfully drew a veil over their relationship.
Ryuntyu said it was exceptionally hard to convince Nureyev that the letters should be posthumously published.
He recalled White saying that the dancer was like a girl whose mood would change five times an hour.
[Photo caption: PASSIONATE PAIR: Ballet star Rudy and, above, rock idol Freddie.]
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I’m handsome, tall, and rich
Chapter 5
Sasuke sat in front of Kakashi wearing a cropped corset top and the blazer from their second meeting. Kakashi tried as best as he could to avert his eyes from the milky skin and onto the contract.” This contract outlines requirements regarding meeting between the employee and the employer’s grandfather. Breach of the agreement will result in-”
Kakashi looked up at Sasuke.
” A penalty of 100 the contract amount.” Sasuke spit out.” A ridiculous amount.”
“Because of you, I hit my head yesterday. I felt so dizzy I had to miss a meeting today and lost a contract.”
“You can’t just-”
“Let’s say a customer orders a custom-made pastry and you get sick so you don’t make it. You lose your customer’s trust!”
“This is too-”
“If you accept my offer, I won’t seek compensation and pay you.”
Sasuke discreetly grabbed his bag, already thinking of how to make it out of the building without running into anyone he knew.
“Secretary Uzumaki, please contact my law-”
“Fine.” Sasuke grabbed a purple glitter pen – Hinata had given him a whole lot of stationery for his birthday – from his bag and signed the document with it.
“You have nice handwriting,” Kakashi commented as he snatched the papers from Sasuke.
The lights dimmed and a projector was turned on. Sasuke eyed Secretary Uzumaki from the corner of his eye as the man pulled out a chair and turned on a laptop.
“Ehm.” Kakashi cleared his throat, catching Sasuke’s attention. He quickly caught Sasuke’s eyes with his own stormy ones.” Is there something wrong?”
“No.”
“You’ll need to memorize this.” Secretary Uzumaki opened a presentation.
“Born in 1993. Blood type, O.” Sasuke read out loud.” Attended Hyunil School. Columbia at- 16?”
Kakashi smirked at the slight falter.” Graduated summa cum laude. Leonard A. Pullman Memorial Prize.”
“You have very good English,” Kakashi commented.
“If you think I’m good you’ll be awestruck by my brother.” Sasuke didn’t even turn to look at him.” Also an athlete, huh.”
“I told you that I’m good at many things.”
“Keeping the ego in check isn’t one of them,” Sasuke muttered.
Secretary Uzumaki snorted and the other men turned to look at him sharply. This might be a match made in heaven, or should he say, hell.
Sasuke turned back around to continue reading.” Fell in love while studying in- New York?”
Sasuke turned back to look at the blond.
“Yes. Since President Hatake had been in New York for the past two years, I thought it only makes sense for your storyline.”
“First of all, storyline? This isn’t a TV show or a novel. Second of all, I’ve never been outside of Asia.”
“I took care of that.” The next slide showed Sasuke’s made-up background.” I made a background story for you.”
Sasuke turned around to read up on how he was the second child of two successful lawyers.” Well, that’s something.”
“Had to make sure it looked plausible.”
“Anyway, the meeting with the Chairman is next Sunday. Memorize everything by then.”
“Okay.”
“I won’t tolerate a single mistake.”
“Is that so? Will you also take me shopping beforehand so I look the part?”
“Good idea. That can be-”
“Don’t.” Sasuke stood up and faced Secretary Uzumaki.” Can you email me the presentation?”
He grabbed a slip of paper from his bag and turned to grab his pen from the table but President Hatake got it first.” I’ll send it to you.”
He pocketed the pen and stood up.
Sasuke spent the days leading up to the meeting immersing himself in the subject. He memorized the information and watch international news and documentaries. He made sure he knew the bare minimum of things he thought an elite would talk about.
“What’s with the sudden interest in politics, Otouto?”
“Nothing.” Sasuke continued to brainstorm for work as the news played in the background. His neat handwriting not giving away how fast he was writing or how much his head hurt from cramming too much information into it.
And on top of that, he had plans with Hinata after work the next day!
”Sasuke Sarutobi!” Someone on the TV said.
“Hm?” Sasuke didn’t look up from the paper.
“You’re really in character.” Hinata grabbed the page from Sasuke’s hand.” Is it worth this much effort? And, why aren’t you using purple?”
Sasuke grabbed the page. Certain words and phrases were highlighted with different colors and there were little notes between lines and on the margins.” Can’t use the purple highlighter because the bastard stole the purple glitter pen.”
Hinata chuckled at Sasuke’s pout.” I’ll buy you another pack of these pens. It’s the least I can do for getting you into this.”
“Yeah. Especially since, if I quick I have to pay him 100 times what he’s giving me.”
“What?”
“Yeah. So now I have to memorize this.”
“How’s that going?”
“I don’t think he’s a real person. He’s hot, smart, athletic, and rich. He did lose his mother in an accident when he was young, though.”
“There’s a rumor about it,” Hinata leaned in.” Some people believe that a distant relative was behind the accident.”
“What?”
“I mean, I don’t think anyone knows what happened but none of his relatives work in any affiliated company. Supposedly, the Chairman fired them all.”
Sasuke was doing flashcards to memorize the information when his phone vibrated. A contact Sasuke had saved under the name “Lepophagus” was calling him.
“Is there something you need?”
” Hello to you too. Are you at home?”
“Do you know what time it is? Where else would I be?” Sasuke sighed knowing that whatever the reason for the call, it’ll be too much of a headache for him.” Do you need something?”
Sasuke found himself seating in a fancy lounge he has even been in feeling very underdressed. Couldn’t they just meet at a park or a normal place for once? His seethrough black button-up and the high-waisted chinos looked very out of place.
“I thought it’d be better to discuss this in private.”
“Of course.”
“Did you memorize everything?”
“Born in 1993. Blood type O. Attended Hyunil School. Attended Columbia 2010.” Sasuke droned.” Graduated summa cum laude. Joined GoFood after graduating and-”
“That’s enough.” President Hatake held up a hand.” What are you doing?”
“ I heard the Chairman was hard to please so I memorized the whole document.”
“ On what world would he ask you to recite the document?”
“That’s impressive!” Head Secretary Uzumaki praised.
“They say all you need is in the textbook.” Sasuke leaned slightly closer to the secretary and lowered his voice before straightening up and turning to Kakashi.” Go ahead. Ask anything.”
“Really?” Sasuke nodded just before President Hatake stood up.” What’d you say if my father asked you to meet him two weeks from now, on a Saturday?”
“Um- Oh-”
“He wants an answer, not a Mamamoo song.” Secretary Naruto whispered.
“If an elder wants to see me and I don’t have a reason to say no, I’ll agree.”
“Wrong!” Kakashi turned to him.” You say ‘no.’”
“Because?”
“Because that’s our 1-year anniversary. It’s a very special day.” He sat back down.
“How are we supposed to actually sell this relationship if we don’t even have the 100-day rings?”
” Looks like you didn’t study enough.” Kakashi ignored him.
“Let me ask you something.” Sasuke leaned closer to Kakashi.” What was I wearing when we first met?”
“We haven’t-”
“Wrong! Of course, you should remember. It’s when we first met.” Sasuke leaned back and rolled his eyes.” No wonder you have to pay someone to act as your partner.”
Secretary Uzumaki choked on air as President Hatake glared at him.
“It was a hot summer day and your friends had dragged you to Coney Island Beach. You sat down, already wanting to leave when you turned to look at the ocean and you saw me coming out, all wet and-”
“No.”
“Why not? Are you saying that I, your boyfriend, am ugly and unattractive?” Sasuke turned to Kakashi with a fire in his eyes. Naruto watch the scene and thought to himself that they were a match made in hell.
“You really don’t have to–”
“It’s late, just take it.” Kakashi didn’t even look up from his work tablet.
“Thanks for the ride.” Sasuke internally sighed and stared out the car window.
Not that much later, he was dozing off. Head hanging forwards until on a turn, he started to lean towards the side. Kakashi gently caught him with a hand, his eyes sot towards the front to make sure Naruto hadn’t seen anything. He brushed some hair off Sasuke’s face and the younger man scrunched his nose.
Kakashi panicked and pushed Sasuke away, causing him to hit his head on the window.” Ow!”
“What?” He looked around, still half-asleep.
“Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”
“Thank you for the ride.”Sasuke unbuckled his belt and turned to Kakashi.” I’ll see you this weekend.”
They both watched Sasuke walk into the small bakery in silence.” He’s quite charming, isn’t he?”
“Charming?”
“Yes. I think you two have a nice dynamic.”
The next day Hinata is sitting in front of her father. Any and all meals with him tended to be a quiet affair, he didn’t even ask her how she was doing or make any attempts at small talk. Not that she particularly wanted to speak to him.
For some reason, that morning he did feel like speaking to her.
“Are you going on a date next week?”
“No, father. I don’t think there’s anyone left for me to go on a blind date here in Korea.”
“TIt’s different this time.” Hinata didn’t want to get her hopes up but maybe her father would finally leave the whole thing alone.” This time, I found a suitor from abroad.”
All her hopes went crashing down.
Still, she should stand up for herself. She was an adult. She could make her own decisions.” Father-”
“You’re an heiress. You have responsibilities.”
“I don’t want an arranged marriage. I don’t want to be miserable.” The “Like you” was left unsaid.
“Your mother was too eccentric.” He went on to blame her mother for the divorce.
“I’m a lot like her.” She quietly said.
“If you want to do whatever you want, leave.”
Hinata doesn’t know why she did what she did next. She, personally, believes that, for a moment, Sasuke possessed her body.
“Fine.” She raised her voice slightly. She got up and ran to her room. She hastily packed a handful of clothes and important documents before carrying everything downstairs and out the door.
“Hold it.” Her father called out as she stepped foot outside.” If you wish to do this, you have to give me my credit card back.”
What?
Hinata sighed and grabbed her wallet before pulling out the credit card and handing it over.
“Enjoy eating by yourself.” She muttered as she walked towards her car.
Kakashi sat in a meeting, bored out of his mind.
“How do you plan to address the issues regarding why our overseas market share hasn’t caught up with China’s?”
“I- We-” The man started to look through what one of his staff had prepared for him.
“Don’t bother showing up for meetings if all you plan to do is read off what someone else prepared for you.” He then turned to Karin.” Moving on with our agenda, Development Team 4, hand in a report with all the possible replacements for Chef Kimimaro by Friday at most.”
The room went quiet.
“Of course, sir.”
“Who runs away to become a monk?” Suigetsu asked, eyes not leaving his computer.
“I’m sure Chef Kimimaro had his reasons.”
Sasuke didn’t comment on their conversation as he typed away on his computer. As if his boss forcing him to memorize a presentation and meet his grandfather this Sunday wasn’t enough, he now had to work on finding a replacement for Chef Kimimaro.
Could he propose Genma? He was a chef and while his restaurant wasn’t too famous, it wasn’t unknown. Plus, he did have quite a unique menu.
“How’d it go?” Suigetsu asked as Karin walked into the room. She looked stressed enough that she might just quit and join Chef Kimimaro in becoming a monk.
“How’d you think it went?” She threw her notebook on her desk.” We have to hand in a report with all possible replacements by Friday. He said we need to make sure they won’t pull off a stunt like that.”
“What? Are we supposed to ask them all if they would ever run away and become monks?”
Before Karin could either insult Suigetsu or hit him, Sasuke chimed in.” Just emailed you a list of possible candidates with a bit of info on them. Let’s pick a couple and add some more details and turn it in like that.”
“Give me a sec.” Karin opened the document. She skimmed through it for a second before turning to Sasuke.” What about that chef friend of yours?”
“What?”
“I think he’d fit in. Not too bad-looking, young, and makes good food. We might even catch the attention of some younger crowds.”
“Is that a good idea? He doesn’t give me good vibes.”
“Why don’t you give us a better idea instead of slacking off?”
“I bet he plays with people’s feelings.” Suigetsu tried and failed to discreetly look at Sasuke.
“I don’t think President Hatake would be impressed at us making a decision solely based on someone’s vibes,” Juugo said.
“ I’ll get started as soon as possible.”
“He’s perfect for you.” Sakumo Hatake told his son as they both walked out of the kitchen each holding a cup of tea.” He even has the name of my favorite character!”
The commercial break ended just as the older man sat on the couch. Kakashi lingered next to the couch, a bit interested on the show that his father seemed to love.
” Tell me why!” A man onscreen with hair like snow and eyes like a clear sky spoke. He was talking to a young man with spiky black hair, though nothing like Sasuke’s, and eyes like the leaves in summer.
Just as the black-haired man was about to speak, someone opened the door and pushed them, causing them to fall and their lips to touch.
Kakashi’s hand went to his lips almost on instinct. He couldn’t help but remember the incident a couple of days prior.
“Looks like they’re finally together!” His father said.
“What a stupid show. After a kiss, they’re together? Makes no sense. What do you see in this?” Kakashi walked up the stairs.
“What’s with you?” Sakumo called out.” This has a 30 percent viewership rating. It’s a fact!”
He heard Kakashi close the door to his home office.” You just need to get into it.”
“Stop stealing the food!” Sasuke gently scolded Hinata. He had barely finished taking the picture before Hinata grabbed the plate.
“Can you focus on the garnish?’ Genma asked Sasuke as he set down a plate.
“‘Kay.”
“Were you starved or something?” Genma had turned to Hinata.
“I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” The woman swallowed.” I was too busy looking for apartments.”
“No wonder. Can you even afford to move out?”
“Why does everyone think I spend all my money on clothes?” She set her fork down.” I mostly used my father’s money for everything and saved my paychecks.”
“I’m sure you did.” Sasuke muttered before turning to Genma.” Where’s the White Kimchi Ravioli?”
“It’s not on the menu."
“I think it’s good and new. Perfect for the market.”
“Do you think so?”
“Yes, trust me. I like your food for a reason.” Sasuke handed Hinata the plate he had just photographed and grabbed another one.” Can you go make some?”
“Sure.”<
Hinata waited for Genma to be out of earshot before teasing Sasuke.” You don’t just like his food.”
“Sounds like someone doesn’t need somewhere to sleep tonight.”
“Sorry.”
“Whatever. Finish your food. As soon as I’m done with the pictures we’re leaving.”
“Why is everything so expensive?” Hinata complained as he looked for an apartment.
“Thought you had saved your paychecks.”
“I did. But it’s not just the apartment, it’s also the furniture and other expenses as well.” She sighed.” Maybe I should move in here.”
“Ha!”
The room went quiet and Sasuke focused once again on his work. Hours passed by and he continued to type away until he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Even then, he tried to work through it all.
The sun was shining through the window when Mikoto Uchiha walked into the room. She gently shook Hinata awake before turning to Sasuke.
“Sweetie, look at you. Your back will kill you.” She shook Sasuke who had fallen asleep slumped on his desk.” Sasuke, wake up.”
Sasuke blinked at his mother as though she were speaking in an alien language. He blinked at her a couple more times before he was awake enough for panic to settle in.
“I’m not done.” He turned to his computer and went over everything he had done to see how fucked he was.
“Work can wait. Come have breakfast.” His mother said from the doorway.
“Emailed you the presentation,” Sasuke mumbled to Karin as he sat down on his desk.
“Why does our prettiest member look like a zombie?”
“The prettiest member feels like the undead.”
“Looks good.” Karin quickly finished checking the presentation.” Be ready to present it at noon.
“No.”
“You have to.” Karin urged.
“You do.” Suigetsu agreed, an omen of bad things to come. He and Karin never agreed on anything.” A director got called off for reading over what his staff had written.”
“Why don’t you do it?” Sasuke asked Suigetsu.
“Are you serious? He’ll fuck it up!”
Sasuke somehow ended up in front of all the team representatives and President Hatake wearing a black face mask.
” Good day, I am here representing Development Team 4.” Sasuke hoped no one could tell how nervous he was.
“Excuse me,” Kakashi spoke up before Sasuke could start with the contents of the presentation.” Could you take off your mask? I can’t hear you properly.”
Sasuke sneezed. “I apologize, sir. I am sick.”
Sasuke could feel Kakashi’s eyes on him all through the presentation. He hadn’t felt like that even during the blind dates. He swallowed and carried on as if nothing.” Our last proposal is Chef Shiranui Genma.”
In another part of Seoul, Hinata was walking into an apartment. The estate agent turned to her.” What do you think?”
“Do the appliances come with the unit?”
“Of course they do.” The woman said with an obviously fake smile. Hinata paid her no mind, though. She walked around the place, just looking.
“I’ll take it.”
“Great! Let’s get going then.” The woman guided her out of the apartment and towards the elevators.” I’ve been working for more than 20 years as a realtor and I’ve never met anyone as easy to please.”
Hinata could tell she was lying, or at least greatly exaggerating, still, she laughed alongside the woman.
“Let’s go to my office and write down the contract.” They stepped into the elevator just as a handsome blond man walked out of the other one.
It was an omen after all, Sasuke walked out of Genma’s restaurant. Nothing hurt quite like seeing your crush and his ex who cheated on him on a date.
Sasuke had hastily walked out of the restaurant, trying not to let the tears stream down his face. But when a man tripped while rushing to the bus making his papers fly everywhere and making him miss his bus, he couldn’t help but sniffle. Tears started rolling down his cheeks.
To top it all off, his phone started ringing. He couldn’t make out the ID due to the tears. He tried to decline the call and shove the phone in his pocket as he picked up the papers.
The stress from the last couple of days had taken quite a toll on him, so he stayed there, kneeling in front of the bus stop, sobbing as he tried to pick up his papers, now knowing someone could hear his choked sobs.
"One hundred,” Sasuke whispered before taking the cold spoons off his eyes. He looked in the mirror to see if the puffiness had reduced. He quickly packed a bag with the clothes he’d wear for this meeting. He sat there for a second.
Am I forgetting something? Sasuke thought as he went through the contents of the bag again. Shit! The makeup.
He opened his drawer and grabbed his favorite palette of eyeshadows, eyeliner, and a couple of lipsticks. Just as he was about to close it, the envelope Genma had given him for his birthday caught his eye.
He opened it and took out the tickets for the concert. They were for today. Maybe it’d be a fun way to end his week, after all, he’d been through.
“Don’t take Hinata with you, take someone special.” Genma had told him when he had given it to him. Sasuke sighed. He grabbed his bag and walked downstairs. He’d need to get ready for his “date” in a subway bathroom.
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Top 5 @Wikipedia pages from yesterday: Monday, 15th April 2024
Welcome, ողջու՜յն (voġčuyn), tervetuloa, ยินดีต้อนรับ (yin dee dtôn rab) 🤗
What were the top pages visited on @Wikipedia (15th April 2024) 🏆🌟🔥?
1️⃣: Indian Premier League
"The Indian Premier League (IPL), also known as the TATA IPL for sponsorship reasons, is a men's Twenty20 (T20) cricket league held annually in India. Founded by the BCCI in 2007, the league features ten city-based franchise teams. The IPL usually takes place during the summer, between March and May..."
2️⃣: Scottie Scheffler
"Scott Alexander Scheffler (born June 21, 1996) is an American professional golfer who plays on the PGA Tour. He is currently ranked world number one, first reaching the position in the Official World Golf Ranking in March 2022, and has held that ranking for over 80 weeks. He has won two major..."
Image licensed under CC BY 3.0? by Titleist
3️⃣: Etel Adnan
"Etel Adnan (Arabic: إيتيل عدنان; 24 February 1925 – 14 November 2021) was a Lebanese-American poet, essayist, and visual artist. In 2003, Adnan was named "arguably the most celebrated and accomplished Arab American author writing today" by the academic journal MELUS: Multi-Ethnic Literature of the..."
Image licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0? by Nanwieser
4️⃣: Fallout (American TV series)
"Fallout is an American post-apocalyptic drama television series created by Graham Wagner and Geneva Robertson-Dworet for Amazon Prime Video. Based on the role-playing video game franchise created by Tim Cain and Leonard Boyarsky, the series stars Ella Purnell, Aaron Moten, Kyle MacLachlan, Moisés..."
5️⃣: Billy Joel
"William Martin Joel (born May 9, 1949) is an American singer, songwriter and pianist. Commonly nicknamed the "Piano Man" after his signature 1973 song of the same name, Joel has had a successful music career as a solo artist since the 1970s. From 1971 to 1993, he released twelve studio albums that..."
Image licensed under CC BY 3.0? by David Shankbone
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Tackling cancer at the nanoscale
New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/tackling-cancer-at-the-nanoscale/
Tackling cancer at the nanoscale
When Paula Hammond first arrived on MIT’s campus as a first-year student in the early 1980s, she wasn’t sure if she belonged. In fact, as she told an MIT audience yesterday, she felt like “an imposter.”
However, that feeling didn’t last long, as Hammond began to find support among her fellow students and MIT’s faculty. “Community was really important for me, to feel that I belonged, to feel that I had a place here, and I found people who were willing to embrace me and support me,” she said.
Hammond, a world-renowned chemical engineer who has spent most of her academic career at MIT, made her remarks during the 2023-24 James R. Killian Jr. Faculty Achievement Award lecture.
Established in 1971 to honor MIT’s 10th president, James Killian, the Killian Award recognizes extraordinary professional achievements by an MIT faculty member. Hammond was chosen for this year’s award “not only for her tremendous professional achievements and contributions, but also for her genuine warmth and humanity, her thoughtfulness and effective leadership, and her empathy and ethics,” according to the award citation.
“Professor Hammond is a pioneer in nanotechnology research. With a program that extends from basic science to translational research in medicine and energy, she has introduced new approaches for the design and development of complex drug delivery systems for cancer treatment and noninvasive imaging,” said Mary Fuller, chair of MIT’s faculty and a professor of literature, who presented the award. “As her colleagues, we are delighted to celebrate her career today.”
In January, Hammond began serving as MIT’s vice provost for faculty. Before that, she chaired the Department of Chemical Engineering for eight years, and she was named an Institute Professor in 2021.
A versatile technique
Hammond, who grew up in Detroit, credits her parents with instilling a love of science. Her father was one of very few Black PhDs in biochemistry at the time, while her mother earned a master’s degree in nursing from Howard University and founded the nursing school at Wayne County Community College. “That provided a huge amount of opportunity for women in the area of Detroit, including women of color,” Hammond noted.
After earning her bachelor’s degree from MIT in 1984, Hammond worked as an engineer before returning to the Institute as a graduate student, earning her PhD in 1993. After a two-year postdoc at Harvard University, she returned to join the MIT faculty in 1995.
At the heart of Hammond’s research is a technique she developed to create thin films that can essentially “shrink-wrap” nanoparticles. By tuning the chemical composition of these films, the particles can be customized to deliver drugs or nucleic acids and to target specific cells in the body, including cancer cells.
To make these films, Hammond begins by layering positively charged polymers onto a negatively charged surface. Then, more layers can be added, alternating positively and negatively charged polymers. Each of these layers may contain drugs or other useful molecules, such as DNA or RNA. Some of these films contain hundreds of layers, others just one, making them useful for a wide range of applications.
“What’s nice about the layer-by-layer process is I can choose a group of degradable polymers that are nicely biocompatible, and I can alternate them with our drug materials. This means that I can build up thin film layers that contain different drugs at different points within the film,” Hammond said. “Then, when the film degrades, it can release those drugs in reverse order. This is enabling us to create complex, multidrug films, using a simple water-based technique.”
Hammond described how these layer-by-layer films can be used to promote bone growth, in an application that could help people born with congenital bone defects or people who experience traumatic injuries.
For that use, her lab has created films with layers of two proteins. One of these, BMP-2, is a protein that interacts with adult stem cells and induces them to differentiate into bone cells, generating new bone. The second is a growth factor called VEGF, which stimulates the growth of new blood vessels that help bone to regenerate. These layers are applied to a very thin tissue scaffold that can be implanted at the injury site.
Hammond and her students designed the coating so that once implanted, it would release VEGF early, over a week or so, and continue releasing BMP-2 for up to 40 days. In a study of mice, they found that this tissue scaffold stimulated the growth of new bone that was nearly indistinguishable from natural bone.
Targeting cancer
As a member of MIT’s Koch Institute for Integrative Cancer Research, Hammond has also developed layer-by-layer coatings that can improve the performance of nanoparticles used for cancer drug delivery, such as liposomes or nanoparticles made from a polymer called PLGA.
“We have a broad range of drug carriers that we can wrap this way. I think of them like a gobstopper, where there are all those different layers of candy and they dissolve one at a time,” Hammond said.
Using this approach, Hammond has created particles that can deliver a one-two punch to cancer cells. First, the particles release a dose of a nucleic acid such as short interfering RNA (siRNA), which can turn off a cancerous gene, or microRNA, which can activate tumor suppressor genes. Then, the particles release a chemotherapy drug such as cisplatin, to which the cells are now more vulnerable.
The particles also include a negatively charged outer “stealth layer” that protects them from being broken down in the bloodstream before they can reach their targets. This outer layer can also be modified to help the particles get taken up by cancer cells, by incorporating molecules that bind to proteins that are abundant on tumor cells.
In more recent work, Hammond has begun developing nanoparticles that can target ovarian cancer and help prevent recurrence of the disease after chemotherapy. In about 70 percent of ovarian cancer patients, the first round of treatment is highly effective, but tumors recur in about 85 percent of those cases, and these new tumors are usually highly drug resistant.
By altering the type of coating applied to drug-delivering nanoparticles, Hammond has found that the particles can be designed to either get inside tumor cells or stick to their surfaces. Using particles that stick to the cells, she has designed a treatment that could help to jumpstart a patient’s immune response to any recurrent tumor cells.
“With ovarian cancer, very few immune cells exist in that space, and because they don’t have a lot of immune cells present, it’s very difficult to rev up an immune response,” she said. “However, if we can deliver a molecule to neighboring cells, those few that are present, and get them revved up, then we might be able to do something.”
To that end, she designed nanoparticles that deliver IL-12, a cytokine that stimulates nearby T cells to spring into action and begin attacking tumor cells. In a study of mice, she found that this treatment induced a long-term memory T-cell response that prevented recurrence of ovarian cancer.
Hammond closed her lecture by describing the impact that the Institute has had on her throughout her career.
“It’s been a transformative experience,” she said. “I really think of this place as special because it brings people together and enables us to do things together that we couldn’t do alone. And it is that support we get from our friends, our colleagues, and our students that really makes things possible.”
#1980s#2023#2024#acids#Alumni/ae#applications#approach#Awards#honors and fellowships#biochemistry#blood#blood vessels#bloodstream#Born#Cancer#cancer cells#cancer treatment#career#cell#Cells#chemical#Chemical engineering#chemotherapy#coatings#college#Color#Community#Composition#Design#development
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Reuters UK: Russia believed to have jammed signal on UK defence minister's plane - source
https://www.reuters.com/world/uk/russia-believed-have-jammed-signal-uk-defence-ministers-plane-source-2024-03-14/
British Defence Secretary Grant Shapps walks to attend a cabinet meeting in London, Britain, March 6, 2024. REUTERS/Toby Melville/File Photo Purchase Licensing Rights, opens new tab
LONDON, March 14 (Reuters) - Russia is believed to have jammed the satellite signal on an aircraft used by defence minister Grant Shapps to travel from Poland back to Britain, a government source and journalists travelling with him said on Thursday.
According to a government source and journalists, the GPS signal was interfered with for about 30 minutes while the plane flew close to Russia's Baltic exclave of Kaliningrad.
Mobile phones could no longer connect to the internet and the aircraft was forced to use alternative methods to determine its location, they said.
The Russian defence ministry did not respond to a request for comment.
Prime Minister Rishi Sunak's spokesperson confirmed the incident had happened on Wednesday but added it was "not unusual".
"While travelling back from Poland yesterday, the plane carrying the Defence Secretary and his delegation temporarily experienced GPS jamming when they flew close to Kaliningrad," the spokesperson said.
"It didn't threaten the safety of the aircraft and it is not unusual for aircraft to experience GPS jamming near Kaliningrad, which is of course Russian territory."
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they said the same ish when that plane Ron Brown was on crashed mysteriously into a whole ass mountain, and killed everyone on board
youtube
Ronald H. Brown, the U.S. secretary of commerce, is killed along with 32 other Americans when their U.S. Air Force plane crashes into a mountain near Dubrovnik, Croatia. Brown was leading a delegation of business executives to the former Yugoslavia to explore business opportunities that might help rebuild the war-torn region.
Brown, born in Washington, D.C., in 1941, grew up in New York City’s Harlem neighborhood, where he worked as a welfare caseworker before joining the U.S. Army. After holding positions in the National Urban League, an advocacy group for the renewal of inner cities, he became a member of the U.S. Supreme Court bar and served as chief counsel for the Senate Judiciary Committee. In 1989, he was elected chairman of the Democratic Party National Committee, becoming the first African American to hold the top position in a major political party in the United States.
youtube
As chairman, Brown played a pivotal role in securing the 1992 election of Bill Clinton, the first Democratic president in 12 years. In 1993, Clinton appointed Brown to be the first African American secretary of commerce, a position he held until his death in 1996.
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Rishi you betta thank yo stars that you got a warning, before the murder happened cause this was just that. a warning.
#russia#gb#UK: Russia believed to have jammed signal on UK defence minister's plane#this is why you shoulda kept julian assange on the wikileaks#russia threatens gb#rishi sunak does nothing#They killed Ron Brown#plane crashes#communications interference#Ron Brown#croatia#Youtube
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