I was hanging out with my friend in the woods, and we stumbled upon a playing card on the ground and it was the 5 of spades. My friend turned to look at me and said ominously: “The 5 of spades means we interrupted the ritual.”
I wasn’t looking of anything when I met you. If anything I was over the thought of falling for someone. I had finally gotten over someone and the thought of being flooded with emotions each day again was exhausting.
But we practically stumbled on top of one another. Our paths could have crossed, but instead they collided. And the night we met was like coming up for air after drowning in my own tears. You made me laugh, and you told me stories about your life and for that night I was just happy to be me. It was an odd feeling, to be so happy and free.
Things didn’t work out, and maybe it was for the best. This way you can always be the guy that never hurt me, the one that let me listen and laugh for a night. And I am grateful for you and the part you played in realising I deserved better than those I had met before you.
To the one that came out of no where, but was exactly what I needed.
The amazing thing about JK Rowling is that she writes this script and it’s so descriptive, but occasionally she’s very economical about her words. And in this particular one it was like, so Dan [Fogler]’s character and mine were running through the Central Park zoo, and we stumble across this thing and Newt performs mating dance and—and you sort of read through it and back up and go what? What is a magical seduction mating dance? What on earth? Where do you start? —Eddie Redmayne on mating dance research [x]
I remember how we sat with our legs and our minds tangled, threads interwoven like a safety net so no one could tell whose threads were whose and knowing we’d always be held up by the other should we stumble and fall. Months bled into years and we were inseparable, never afraid to speak up, always eager to pour our hearts out to each other. Warm summer nights were followed by winter days spent beneath blankets with only our stories and memories to keep us company. It didn’t happen as night changed into day, from one day to the next. It happened over time, quietly over the years. We barely saw each other, hardly spoke, until I woke up one morning and realised how everything had changed. Talking became harder, and being with you wasn’t like being caught anymore, like being held up. It was like falling. There was no safety net to stop me from hitting the ground.
“People grow up,” my mother would say when I’d asked what was different, “people change”. There are miles between us now, even when we’re in the same room. When words make their way up my throat, I pause, wondering if you’d even care, and shove the words back down until I can barely breathe. I want to set you free but you’ve known me all my life and now we’re two strangers with different tastes and different hearts who happen to share the same memories. And I wonder how it happened, I replay the years in my mind, but for the hell of me, I cannot find the day where our interwoven threads were cut apart.
How can I let someone go who knows my soul?
We have stumbled and fallen. We have bruises and cuts. But I will still always pick you up and kiss your wounds, as you kiss mine. No matter what happens or how hard we fall, I will always be here and I will always love you.
After a long absence, The Twilight Zone returns with one of the most ambitious, expensive and controversial productions in broadcast history. Sci-fi writers have dabbled often with alternative history stories - among the most common is the “What If The Nazis Had Won The Second World War” setting - but this huge interactive virtual reality project, which will unfold on TV, in the press, and on Twitter over the next four years, sets out to build an ongoing alternative present.
The story begins in a nightmarish version of 2017 in which huge sections of the US electorate have somehow been duped into voting to make Donald Trump president. It sounds far-fetched, and it is, but as it goes on it becomes more and more chillingly plausible. Today’s feature-length opener concentrates on the gaudy inauguration of President Trump, and the stirrings of protest and despair surrounding the ceremony, while pundits speculate gravely on what lies ahead. It’s a flawed piece, but a disturbing glimpse of the horrors we could stumble into, if we’re not careful.
Can i just take a minute to talk about how much I love the NCT fandom?
Because yall are some of the sweetest most loving people i have ever encountered in fans. Not ONCE have i been made feel bad for being an “older” fan (22). Especially when NCT Dream came out.
I never see people fighting over biases, (which I find dumb in the first place) instead I see people happy others are loving their bias too.
Even though I’ve been a fan since the beginning during The 7th Sense, I’ve never had anyone make me feel less of a fan since I didnt know about them during rookie days.
We’ve had some stumbles as a fandom along the way, but generally, everyone I’ve met or seen has been nothing but nice. Way nicer than any other group of fans I’ve been apart of. I’ve never felt more at home in a group of fans. Thank you all for being a great NCT family!
Some periods of our growth are so confusing that we don’t even recognize that growth is happening. We may feel hostile or angry or weepy and hysterical, or we may feel depressed. It would never occur to us, unless we stumbled on a book or a person who explained to us, that we were in fact in the process of change, of actually becoming larger, spiritually, than we were before. Whenever we grow, we tend to feel it, as a young seed must feel the weight and inertia of the earth as it seeks to break out of its shell on its way to becoming a plant. Often the feeling is anything but pleasant. But what is most unpleasant is the not knowing what is happening. Those long periods when something inside ourselves seems to be waiting, holding its breath, unsure about what the next step should be, eventually become the periods we wait for, for it is in those periods that we realize that we are being prepared for the next phase of our life and that, in all probability, a new level of the personality is about to be revealed.
Story: We’re searching for a necromancer that we have to “clean”. Out shady job givers have directed us to a tree stump 40minutes outside of Neverwinter that a long time ago served as a druid temple.The guy who hired us told us to prepare against mind control. So our Ranger promptly buys an iron bucket and walks with it over his head.
Scene: While exploring the temple we stumble upon a giant statue of Auril, goddess of winter. All of a sudden a door opens and 4 humanoids run in.
Leader of humanoids: What are you doing here? Player 1 (Me a Wizard): We’re the cleaning crew.
At which the Ranger places his bucket on the floor and the Cleric takes her giant warhammer and pretends to soak it into the bucket and she’s scraping the floor with it.
So, just a bit of background info. I play a drow rogue, and she’s in a party with an elven paladin, an elven Druid, and an elven monk (they’re all either elven or half-elves or some combination, still not entirely sure.)
Anyway, so we’re in what’s basically the basement of a temple, and we stumble into a storage room.
Paladin: Hold on, everyone, I want to grab a bucket with a lid.
Me (rogue): Why do you need a bucket?
P: I dunno, just in case.
Well, the bucket he reaches for turns out to be a mimic. After a few minutes of failing horribly at trying to kill it, it somehow is set on fire and it dies.
R: I think the mimic meat is done cooking. Who wants some?
Druid: I don’t think that the mimic is still in there. Is it?
Monk: Why would you ever want to eat a bucket? It’s-
R: I eat the bucket.
Party (including DM): ?????????
R: Mmm, Underdark cuisine at its finest. Just like my parents used to make.
(later, after we’ve fought a lava child and looted it)
D: Wait, we never looted the bucket. Was there anything in it or on it?