大家好！here is this week spread♡ so i choose the red-ish theme for this week bc it’s chinese new yearrr ft. a pic within the royal palace (*･ω･)ﾉ
you might notice that i’ve written 新年快乐 on 27th jan, which in fact, i should have written it on 28th jan. it’s bc we need to worship the god on the night of 27th jan to 28th jan♡ (i don’t know if the mainland do this or not, but here we do lol) anyway, happy chinese new year! ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡
I've been gone like a week and so much has happened apparently? Please help me i'm lost
I s2g TJLC is the wildest fuckin’ ride. Every time I think the conspiracy can’t get any deeper new shit pops up. At this point I’ve just accepted that this whole thing is more complex and mad than I ever could have imagined so all bets are off.
Short summary of this week in TJLC (29th Jan - 4th Feb):
(Which probably doesn’t include everything, because seven days in Johnlock time is like seven years in the actual world):
The Case of the Duplicate Man — aka., the Duplicate Steve?
Steve Thompson, the screenwriter for TRF, is most likely not real and is a pseudonym for Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. Either that, or Mofftiss have been keeping this man hidden in the Basement for the past five years.
The show itself is causing quite a stir because it’s likely that John has just been made a woman for the sole purpose of introducing a romantic subplot. Almost as if you can’t have a romance unless it’s heterosexual … Hm. Anyway. There’s quite a bit of evidence suggesting that the show may just be part of the ARG or a prank of some sort, the most incriminating being the show’s promo picture, which is literally just some stock images photoshopped together.
- The scripts in general are pretty jam-packed full of clues, misdirections, and Johnlock subtext, not to mention the hilarious denial of such subtext including the, now iconic, “proper, manly embrace” on the tarmac.
Protestors demonstrate in Atlanta at the Hartsfield-Jackson Intl Airport against Trump’s executive order to halt entry of individuals from 7 Muslim majority countries on Jan 29th, 2017. (Branden Camp/AP)
I’ve always wanted to write all about my experiences from Cursed Child but I don’t trust my writing to fully justify how amazing this play is. I’ve done some highlights from all my previous visits though which I will post (hopefully soon). Here are some highlights from last Sunday’s performance (not in any particular order)! I’m sorry theres been a delay as I’ve been on a roadtrippp
Hey, would you mind explaining the whole Dale Pike thing to me? I know he wrote suspicious fanfiction and a lot of people suspect he might actually Mark Gatiss. But I don't know what the fic is actually called or what its significance is. Basically any details you could fill in for me would help lol
So someone asked me the same question last night so I’m just gonna
Ok so there was a video that circulated on Jan 29th that was basically “A Final Fuck You To BBC: Gays Matter”, except that just now we are finding out that the ‘creator’ of that video also writes 'fanfiction’ on AO3, except except that a lot of people (like TJLC higherups) are noticing that these fics read a lot like some of the stuff Mark Gatiss has written.
I’ve made it through like one or two, and I gotta say it’s all very well-written, but it is not good fanfiction. Like it uses a lot of epithets and switches POVs weirdly and the style is certainly creative but not conducive to typical Johnlock fanfiction At All. So it feels like whoever wrote it is trying to hide who they really are but is kinda bad at it? Aaaand their pseud is “Dale Pike”, which is probably based on the ACD character Langdale Pike but I haven’t read a lot of the original stories so I can’t say much more than that about it but supposedly it has some significance?
It’s all a bit sketchy imo, but supposedly some of the fics were written as “predictions” and “inside spoilers” for season 4. I haven’t read those yet, but it’s obvious that a lot of it was based off of the meta we were coming up with (such as Mycroft dying, the baby being a plot device etc.) I’d start with Within the Narrative and One Word Test.
75 in x of animated feature film history Release: Jan. 29th, 1959 Country: USA Director: Clyde Geronimi, Les Clark, Eric Larson, Wolfgang Reitherman
“Sleeping Beauty was the 16th film released from Walt Disney, and was the first animated film to be photographed in the Super Technirama 70 widescreen process.
Princess Aurora is cursed by the evil witch Maleficent, who declares that before the sun sets on Aurora’s 16th birthday she will die by pricking her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel. To try to prevent this, the king places her into hiding, in the care of three fairies. They raise Aurora as their own, calling her Briar Rose and letting her know nothing of her true identity. On the day of her 16th birthday, she unknowingly meets her betrothed prince, as well as reignites Maleficent’s wrath.
The name given to the princess by her royal birth parents is ‘Aurora’, as it was in the original Tchaikovsky ballet. In hiding, she is called Briar Rose, the name of the princess in the Brothers Grimm’s version. Prince Phillip has the distinction of being the first Disney prince to have a name.
Following the critical and commercial success of Cinderella, writing for Sleeping Beauty began in early 1951. Partial story elements originated from discarded ideas for Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and Cinderella. By the middle of 1953, director Wilfred Jackson had recorded the dialogue, assembled a story reel, and was to commence for preliminary animation, but Walt Disney decided to throw out the meeting sequence between Briar Rose and Phillip, delaying the film from its initial 1955 release date.
In December 1953, Jackson suffered a heart attack, by which directing animator Eric Larson of Disney’s Nine Old Men took over as director. Disney instructed Larson that the picture was to be a ‘moving illustration, the ultimate in animation’ and added that he didn’t care how long it would take. Because of the delays, the release date was again pushed back many times. Milt Kahl would blame Walt because ‘he wouldn’t have story meetings. He wouldn’t get the damn thing moving.’ Relatively late in production, Disney removed Larson as the supervising director, and was replaced with Clyde Geronimi.
The artistic style originated when John Hench observed the famed unicorn tapestries at the Cloisters located at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.
For Sleeping Beauty, Eyvind Earle said he ‘felt totally free to put my own style’ into the paintings he based on Hench’s drawings. Furthermore, Earle found inspiration in the Italian Renaissance as well as Persian art and Japanese prints. When Geronimi became the supervising director, Earle and Geronimi entered furious creative divisions. Geronimi commented that he felt Earle’s paintings ‘lacked the mood in a lot of things. All that beautiful detail in the trees, the bark, and all that, that’s all well and good, but who the hell’s going to look at that?’
Because of the artistic depth of Earle’s backgrounds, it was decided for the characters to be stylized so it can appropriately match. While the layout artists and animators were impressed with Earles’s paintings, they eventually grew depressed at working with a style that many of them regarded as too cold, too flat, and too modernist for a fairy tale. Nevertheless, Walt insisted on the visual design. Marc Davis drew from Czechoslovakian religious paintings when designing Maleficent.
In 1952, Mary Costa was approached by Walter Schumann who told her, ‘I don’t want to shock you, but I’ve been looking (for Aurora) for three years, and I want to set up an audition. Would you do it?’ Costa accepted the offer and landed the role. Marc Davis served as directing animator over the title character with the character’s figure and features based on those of Audrey Hepburn as well as her voice actress, Mary Costa. Helene Stanley was the live action reference.
During its original release in January 1959, Sleeping Beauty earned approximately $5.3 million, not reaching its production costs of $6 million. The high production costs, coupled with the underperformance of much of the rest of Disney’s 1959–1960 release slate, resulted in the company posting its first annual loss in a decade for fiscal year 1960, and there were massive lay-offs throughout the animation department.
At first, the film had mixed reviews from critics. Nevertheless, the film has sustained a strong following and is today hailed as one of the best animated films ever made. Like Alice in Wonderland, which was not initially successful either, Sleeping Beauty was never re-released theatrically in Walt Disney’s lifetime. However, it had many re-releases in theaters over the decades.
This was the last Disney adaptation of a fairy tale for some years due to its mixed critical reception and performance at the box office; the studio did not return to the genre until 30 years later, with the release of The Little Mermaid in 1989.”
*flashback to their first meeting at barts*
“it’s always you”
*flashback to trf when sherlock says “now stay exactly where you are”*
*flashback to tsot when sherlock says johns a romantic and smiles that sad smile*
“you keep me”
*flashback to the Embrace in tld*
*flashback to the kiss*
This pasta was posted on /x/ on Jan 29th, 2012. It is quite interesting and worth the lengthy read.
My parents were the first to fall violently ill from the sickness we
now know as XoRax. I can vividly recall my father lying on his bed while
his muscles spasmed and he choked on his own vomit. I stood as his
side, frozen in place and refusing to leave as I held back sobs, his
pupils dilating until his entire eye was like an inky blackness. He
tried to speak, turning his head toward me, but opening his mouth only
brought forth another torrent of vomit. I remember saying something, but
that detail is lost on me now. I remember staring into his glazed eyes
as his shuddering became less pronounced and he was suddenly very still.
I let out a wail and ran into my room, unprepared and unwilling to face
the truth. My mother was the first to pass, then my older brother who
had just turned 17, and finally my father. I had not considered that I
could have caught the disease myself - if it were in fact contagious - I
just thought myself lucky, though tragically lucky at that.
I fell asleep in the corner, huddled in the blanket that
previously kept my mother warm, her perfume made the putrid aroma
somewhat tolerable, perhaps just enough so that I could drift off. I
remember a persistent banging next, a series of muffled inquiries from
the opposite side of my locked door. They were shouting for survivors,
looking fervently for anyone who was still alive, despite the breakout. I
rushed to the door and unlocked it to face what I would come to
identify as the Day-Crew. Their faces were obscured by large gas masks
fitted with some sort of capsule on either side of their cheeks, their
breathing was slow and monitored, their voices were nearly impossible to
hear over their mechanical wheezing. They were covered from head to toe
in black regulation hazmat material with orange text reading DAY-CREW
on their backs.
They ordered me out into the main hall where I managed to catch
sight of fourteen other children around my age being told directions and
filed into a line-up. Once the entire group had been examined, we began
our trek out into the streets, which was a vision of chaos and
destruction. We had heard the noises of looting and desperation from our
homes, but we hadn’t ventured off into the outside world for weeks for
fear of catching the sickness ourselves.
There were even more Day-Crew that were burning the bodies that
had fallen to the streets , trying to purge the earth as they kept their
distance from the resulting fumes. We were silently ushered into the
back of a large truck that took us to the south, away from the cities
and suburbs and into the dense growth of the forest.
When the van came to a screeching halt, the doors swung open to
reveal more Day-Crew, who ushered us out into a forest clearing. We were
interrogated about our exposure to anyone with XoRax, and if we felt
any symptoms like nausea or vertigo; though we had all witnessed our
family members falling ill, and had tried in vain to treat them, we were
all perfectly fine in any physical sense.
The Day-Crew initially told us that they were perplexed about our
immunity to the sickness, as anyone who came in contact with it was
sure to fall ill just hours later, so it was a shock to see that some of
us had been living this nightmare for weeks on end. As they
administered more tests and asked more questions however, we were told
that the immunity was tied with a hormone cell that the disease was
using to compromise the immune system, and since we were all too young
to have properly developed it, the disease was unable to make us fall
We were told that the Day-Crew wanted to study us, that we would
live under the cover of the forest in quarantine. They would hope to
extract a cure from our group that could be used to heal the world and
rid it of XoRax Disease.
They tried their best to sound positive in light of the
situation, but it was obvious that even they were doubtful of their
efforts, and that there was no guarantee for any of their tests to
Still, they kept the mood optimistic and promised us that we
would save countless lives with our efforts. They built a secluded
village in the woods, providing us each with a make-shift house carved
into the tree trunks around the area, I was led to a simple tree house
that had a single bed on the far end and a table in the middle. We were
told that first thing the next morning we were going to have our blood
taken, so we weren’t allowed to eat anything until then. I was fine with
that, I hadn’t been hungry for days, the image of my mother, father and
brother crowded my thoughts instead. I didn’t get much sleep, the
forest was chirping with crickets, and the muffled bickering of the
Night-Crew kept me up into the early hours.
We were woken the next day and filed into a single line up to
have blood drawn. While the needles were prepared for us, we were told
that we would have to receive a vaccination that would prevent us from
going through puberty to preserve the hormone that might lead to a cure.
It was never elaborated on at the time that we would never be able to
grow up, or have children, but it was unlikely to live beyond the first
few hours of infection, never mind the next few years, so our adulthood
was seen as necessary sacrifice.
This continued for a few weeks, we would continue to receive
vaccinations and assured that a cure would soon arise, but times were
getting desperate. I took to listening in on the muffled conversations
of the Night-Crew during the night, it became easier to make out what
they were saying over time as they sat beneath my bedroom window next to
a crackling fire.
I discovered that our encampment was only one of many in the
surrounding area, and that they deduced that XoRax originally came from
the sea to the West. They passed around horror stories of the people
that lived by the shore that were hit the worst, that they had gone
completely pale and that they began to sprout growths off of their
elbows, hips and their toes. They had to be kept constantly hydrated or
else their skin would begin to flake and peel. Their pupils had dilated
and their entire eye was colored black, at this bit I thought back to my
father, sitting on the couch and writhing in pain.
There was food in the mountains, one assured another, they were
gathering it in droves, perhaps to keep it from spoiling. Another spoke
up, revealing that they had managed to find expecting women who weren’t
exposed to XoRaX, and that they were being kept in the mountains to
birth their young away from the sickness. The topic came back to their
present situation and they began to discuss our encampment, that our
results - while promising - weren’t being worked on fast enough. There
were accusations claimed, and fingers pointed, but at last they settled
on keeping their mood positive, that something would come along
eventually, that we just needed some more time.
Discussion drifted back to the horror stories of the West coast,
which clearly sparked sick interest in the group as they talked of the
corpses that had been found along the waters and drifted ashore, each
with deep black eyes.
I rolled over in my bed, unable to listen to any more of the
stories without images of my own family. Staring up towards the ceiling,
praying that we would manage to find a cure soon, and that I wouldn’t
have to hear about the people of the West any more.
It had been nearly a month of testing when something went wrong -
a few short hours after our latest vaccination several kids began
complaining of distorted vision. They could see trailing lights in the
air, making their way across the plains. While their faces were covered
with their masks, I could sense the worry that played out across their
We were told that they were just visual hallucinations, and that
they would subside in a few hours. When I awoke the next day and
glimpsed outside I too could see the trailing lights drifting through
the air, they forbid anyone to discuss the lights any further, though it
was clear that everyone could see them.
As we lined up to have blood drawn, one of the Day-Crew became
terribly ill, and began to vomit through his gas mask. In a frenzied
panic we were ordered back into our homes as they led the sick member
away into the woods. We were told to come out and organize ourselves
into a line for decontamination. After covering everyone with a
chalk-like substance, they began to scrub away at it with some foul
smelling liquid until they were assured that we were safe to deal with
once more. This excessive procedure became a part of our daily regimen,
and it’s how we started calling them “The Scrubs” rather than their
official titles. We were disillusioned, and it was obvious that they
were as well.
The visual hallucinations began to worsen, even though we had
stopped taking vaccinations long ago. Some kids began to befriend
imaginary creatures in the air, speaking to the trails of light. I was
horrified that I might start losing my sanity as well.
I didn’t want to eavesdrop to the discussion over the fire that
night, which had gradually worsened which each passing week. With a
trailing desperation in their voice, the Night-Crew began to exchange
information about the other areas.
The food in the mountain had been contaminated, and rumors began
to surface that all of the births had resulted in defects, with each
child being well-over a healthy birth weight with their eyes far apart.
They would likely succumb to the disease and perish as well, it was
decided. The cure that had been tested on the XoRax-ridden patients
hadn’t shown any signs of preventing the sickness, but rather had simply
slowed the progress of the sickness so that it claimed lives in days
rather than hours.
While this was a bit of good news, they focused on how little was
accomplished over such a large span of time, and how anyone with the
sickness shouldn’t be kept stringing along, but rather, destroyed so
that they couldn’t contaminate anyone else. There was a coldness in
I rolled over in my bed to watch the lights play across my vision, dancing across my eyes until I fell asleep.
The Scrubs were gone the next day, leaving us behind as their
failed experiment. The other children seemed unaware of this and decided
to continue befriending imaginary creatures. In a depression I sulked
off to bed, only to suffer a violent burst of spasms and shivering in
the process. I drifted in and out of sleep that night, having one
recurring nightmare after another. When I awoke, I heard something pass
through my doorway, something that couldn’t possibly be there. Rolling
over I reluctantly looked up into the air to watch a trailing ball of
light float around my house before descending toward my bed.
“Hello, Link. Wake up. The Great Deku Tree has summoned you!”