genkinahito · 2 years ago
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JFF+ INDEPENDENT CINEMA: A Selection of Japanese Independent Films to Stream in 2022/23
JFF+ INDEPENDENT CINEMA: A Selection of Japanese Independent Films to Stream @jffplus
Over the last few years. the Japan Foundation has set up opportunities for people around the world to watch Japanese films via streaming via Japanese Film Festival+. This year, they have teamed up with mini theatres (small independent cinemas) across Japan to programme 12 indie films for people to stream online for free. From December 15th, people can go to the website JFF+ INDEPENDENT CINEMA to…
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serenbriar · 2 months ago
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Astarion: Flowers are so overrated. They're bright, gaudy, and almost never make good poisons.
Also Astarion when you put a flower on his grave: 🥰🥰🥰😍😍😍🥹🥹🥹❤️❤️❤️🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🥰🥰🥰
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g1ngerbeer · 9 months ago
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created by love & unmade by it
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birdsongisland · 5 months ago
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id : a rendered digital painting in warm colors of delloso de la rue and wuvvy in a floral frame. they are seated in elaborate wooden chairs, rue sitting straigth in their owlbear form and holding a small white teacup. wuvvy is leaning her elbow on their shoulder, holding a scroll of paper in her other hand. they appear to be discussing the day's plans. wuvvy is wearing a loose white shirt closed at the waist by a green belt, as well as a floral green vest and pink and gold flower jewellry on her neck, hair and horns. rue is wearing a layered dress/outfit with a white layered skirt, green ribbons, pink belt and rectangle overskirt, pink bodice with gold and green closings and collar, a dark green housecoat and white shawl with yellow flowers./end id
hello, been a while, used more of my fashion file on rue and wuvvy :) other color profiles under the readmore!
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[Additional ID: the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th image have altered the color profile of the original image to have deeper shadows, a reddish tone, and then a sepia tone. /end ID] (by @dimension20-described)
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sillygooseness · 25 days ago
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AND ANOTHER THING
William Gao absolutely deserves all the flowers for his performance this season!!! Tao actually had me in tears the absolute most and his RANGE!!!! I mean the look in his eyes when Elle starts to open up about her dysphoria, his little “I missed it. I totally missed it.” when talking to Charlie on the phone, even his vocal animation during his “summer of roMANCE”, how he holds Nick while he falls apart at that party, the way he falls in love with making film!!!! Tao Xu, the beautiful character you are!!!! Will Gao, the incredible actor that you are!!!!
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snzluv3r · 1 month ago
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i feel like the worst person in the world for this thought, but i am SO excited for it to get cold enough for my neighbor’s flowers to die…and i think these self obs from today help me explain exactly why.
cw for descriptions of allergic sneezing + mess
i feel horrible for wishing death on this little old man’s plants, but his garden is full of an entire rainbow of multiple different flowers that have made me sneeze every single day i’ve walked passed them since april.
even on the good days when i manage to hold back an immediate sneezing fit, they still make my eyes water and my nose run, forcing me to try (and fail, almost always fail) to balance sniffling back the mess and trying not to sneeze long enough to make it inside my own place, which is not only a race against the clock but a race against nature itself imo.
i felt especially silly and embarrassing today as i fought against what felt like two different seasons of allergic affliction. it was as if my melodramatic nose couldn’t pick just one allergen to contend with, let alone to publicly humiliate me with—so, even as friday brought with it a merciful conclusion to a long work week of fall allergies, i ended up breathless and sneezy once more, my nose caught off guard after passing by these brightly colored remnants of spring and summer. the comforting, crisp chill and damp smell in the air of the incoming autumn had almost made me forget about the flowers and their threat to my already sensitive nose, until their bright colors caught my eye, in stark contrast with the grey evening sky.
i tried so hard not to inhale until i was past the stretch of flower-garden-allergy-torture, but somehow i forgot that sniffling is a form of inhaling, and the strong, floral scented air managed to hit me even through the double-layered protection of my mask and my existing mild congestion. i don’t think i even got to fully sniffle before my eyes were filling with allergic tears and my breath was hitching, the tickle too deep in my nose to hold back.
like all my allergic sneezes, especially the ones that start when my nose is already drippy and sniffly and dramatically irritated, these were bound to be wet, and there was no time to even pull down my mask, let alone scramble for my travel pack of tissues. in a panic i tried to stifle, which only made everything so much worse and only actually worked for about three poorly stifled sneezes before the first desperate, unrestrained sneeze ripped through me. obviously it didn’t have far to go, given the mask still hugging my face and caging my mouth and nose, but there was no way i was taking off the mask now. the damage was done, and i couldn’t risk the embarrassment of anyone seeing me like this.
not when the more i sneezed, the more mess i could feel run down my chin, completely coating the lower half of my face and inside of my mask. feeling the spray of each sneeze against my mask only made my embarrassment about yet another public sneezing fit worse, my ears and cheeks reddening even more than my nose. i tried stifling again but realized it was pointless, resigning myself to walking as fast as i could while remaining upright as my body snapped forward with harsh, uncontrollable allergic sneezes. my only solace was the slight muffle the (now drenched) mask provided, keeping my head down and towards my chest as i sneezed and shuffled my feet clumsily along the sidewalk. i only ended up having to stop my awkward, sneezy speed-walking once in the remaining two blocks home, for a rogue rapid fit that came so fast, all i could do was stop in my tracks to sneeze over and over again into my mask, my chin tucked into my chest as i instinctively held my elbow up as if to cover the fit despite the mask.
by the time i got into my apartment i had sneezed probably 35 times into my mask and the mess trapped inside was clinging awkwardly to my ever flaring nostrils, making the still unsatisfied itch even more unbearable. it felt almost like purposeful torture, as if the sensation of the mask’s now cool, damp fabric against the existing need to sneeze had become someone who was lightly tickling my nose with a feather, playfully torturing my glistening nostrils as they twitched. my nose was so unbelievably itchy and impossible to ignore in those last few steps to my apartment that i couldn’t help but try to rub my nose against my chest as i fumbled with my keys to unlock the front door. it didn’t even register with me that i was doing it until i had the door open and realized how ineffective of a handsfree nose rubbing method that had been, my desperate attempt at relief only bothering my nose more.
i didn’t even get the door all the way closed behind me before i was sneezing again, my walk up the stairs made difficult by more sudden rapid-fire sneezes, but i was determined to make it all the way home before i lost complete control. even though i was virtually alone, i still had no intention of taking off the mask until i was truly alone and behind a closed, preferably locked door—the thought of anyone seeing how much of a mess i was behind the mask was unbearable, somehow even more embarrassing than all the actual public sneezing itself. it couldn’t have taken me more than seconds to unlock my apartment door, the final destination and end to this nightmare, but it felt agonizingly long as i sneezed in rapid sets of 3s that felt like they echoed up and down the stairs. literally all i could think about was ripping the mask off, finally freeing my nose of the sort of self-inducing allergic torture chamber my mask had become and burying my mouth and nose into about a dozen tissues at once to have the fit of my life (or at least this week 🤣),
i truly applaud this man for not only keeping these flowers alive but THRIVING to the point they’re still pollinating, even as the temperatures drop and leaves fall in the same backyard, but i can’t deny that i daydream about the day i don’t have to try to hold my breath as i walk down that block…
so yeah, i guess in the nicest and gentlest way possible, i can’t wait for this man’s flowers to die (or be moved to some nice imaginary greenhouse in a land far away)
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mitamicah · 5 months ago
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Happy birthday to the happy kitty boy 🥰🐱☀️
Vse najbojše 🩵🩵
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wynought · 1 year ago
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to me it is evident that jonathan already knows that his situation is precarious at best and actively dangerous at worst. all the "he doesnt see the red flags" stuff that people used to say about him is utter nonsense.
he recognizes that drac is purposefully keeping him awake at night and, while he doesnt remark upon his suspicions, his wording and choice of details to include (e.g. drac going "you must be less interesting, so i don't keep you awake", which is more a reflection on drac being a bad host than on any fault of jonathan's) makes it clear that he understands that this is done on purpose and not by accident.
he keeps taking note of situations in which he would expect to see other people, but doesn't. he is aware that he is isolated and alone with a dangerous man (he took special care to highlight drac's unnatural strength and cold skin, the nauseating feeling he got upon being too close during that first supper, and he keeps taking note of any incident in which drac makes him feel uneasy - the nasty smiles, the way drac comes and goes without letting jonathan know when to expect him).
he is wants to be the model picture of an english gentleman guest, trying not to snoop and wander about the castle, when he doesn't have his host's permission. still, he can't help himself but try the doors, and the second door he tries is already locked (which is, of course, important in conjunction with the fact that drac tells him that he wouldnt wish to go anywhere that was behind a locked door, anyways). additionally, he notices that there are no mirrors, which he tries to frame as "oh, i am lacking one of the comforts i am used to, haha, sure weird that these transylvanian people don't have those", but it gives him pause - especially, considering the obvious wealth and opulence he is otherwise surrounded with.
to me this all reads as a continuation of that sentiment from may 4th where he already penned down that if he doesn't make it back himself, he hopes that his journal does (and that one of the last sentiments he wished to convey was his love for mina, i am still not okay about that). obviously, he isn't yet at the point where he wants to give shape to his fears by outright writing them down, but he is meticulously keeping track of all those red flags people joke about him missing. if he wasn't, he wouldn't be writing them down. their inclusion in his journal shows that jonathan knows what's going on (with the limited information he has, obviously), shows his wariness of his host, and shows that he isn't sure if he will safely return to mina.
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stbot · 1 year ago
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Lydia + Walk Walk Fashion Baby (featuring an increasingly unhinged number of pins)
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sleepanonymous · 4 months ago
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I got tagged by the beautiful @autumns-veil to post 5 songs I've had on repeat recently 🖤🖤
These were the first 5 songs on my repeat playlist on Spotify 😅 It's been a while since I did an ask game, uh... no pressure tagging: @lifemod17 @stellasplendens @loveinthemindpalace @moonchild-in-blue and anyone else 🖤 show me some cool music
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why-bless-your-heart · 5 months ago
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My mom sent me a watercolor she just did and I’m going a little crazy over it, tbh.
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genkinahito · 1 year ago
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Somebody's Flowers 誰かの花 (2022) Director: Yusuke Okada
Somebody’s Flowers    誰かの花 「Dareka no Hana」 Release Date: January 29th, 2022 Duration: 115 mins. Director: Yusuke Okada Writer: Yusuke Okada (Script),  Starring: Shinsuke Kato, Kazuko Yoshiyuki, Choei Takahashi, Misa Wada, Honoka Murakami, Ryusei Ohta, Website    IMDB Somebody’s Flowers was planned and produced for the 30th anniversary of Cinema Jack & Betty, a famous mini-theatre in Yokohama.…
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shapeofshifter · 1 month ago
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horiuhghhf i need a partner and i need us to hunt eachother in the forest for sport
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y-rhywbeth2 · 3 months ago
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A quick form of marriage amongst moon elves - maybe other elves too, but the only examples I've seen thus far are moon - is to braid a crown of summer flowers (laurel was one example) and place it on your intended's head.
That's it. Only action required. You're elf-married now.
...I wonder if anybody's ever accidentally married an elf this way?
(There's other things you can do to flesh it out. Weddings usually occur in midsummer which is a whole bonding time with dancing and drinking, where people either pair-off (romantically or just for fun) or hang out with friends if they're not interested, and bright clothes and lots of lanterns and faerie fire and other colourful light sources are involved. But you only need a flower crown.)
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dae-time-designs · 3 months ago
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Hydrangeas my beloved ❤️
(click for quality)
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thetomorrowshow · 6 months ago
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seven
empires superpowers au masterlist (not up to date)
this story takes place about a year after the end of ‘poisoned rats’.
cw: light eye horror
~
He’s still new to the whole going-to-work thing. It’s kind of like school, and Jimmy had never liked school, but it’s different in the way that he’s getting paid for his work. And it’s a decent bit more enjoyable than school—he’s learning about cars, getting familiar with the inner workings of machines, and he hasn’t properly had the chance to pop open a hood since he was a teenager and would help his dad with checking the coolant and whatall.
It’s nothing glamorous, but Jimmy really likes his job—more than when he worked as a call service agent, at least. Today he’d learned how to even the weight of a motorcycle, and even though he’d pinched his fingers between the exhaust pipe and the engine, his boss had praised his efforts and let him off early.
Scott usually picks him up from work—they’ve got a second car, but Jimmy doesn’t take his driving test until this weekend so he’s not really meant to be driving himself anywhere—but Scott isn’t free for another hour, so Jimmy meanders around downtown.
He used to live on these streets, so it’s more instinct and less purpose that leads him down to the park across the block from his old apartment building—now closed, he observes, for renovations. The park is lonely at this time of day, two rusting swings hanging silently and a plastic slide gleaming in the sun.
Jimmy stops for a moment, stares at the yellowed grass and bleached plastic playground equipment. He’d never allowed himself to go anywhere near this park, a spot of joy for the kids living in the rundown neighborhood.
He can’t hang here long for risk of being chased off by some bathrobe-clad mother, accusing him of being a predator, so Jimmy turns back to the main part of downtown and heads back in the direction of the mechanic. Maybe Scott’s patrolling in the area, can show off some ice tricks.
There’s a handful of other walkers starting to appear when he makes it back into downtown proper, mostly those returning to work from lunch and high schoolers skipping out of school early. Once upon a time, Jimmy knew how to blend in perfectly with this crowd. Once upon a time, he could never stay in one place for too long.
He slides in among them just as easily as he once might have, moving at the same speed and keeping to the common footpath. He keeps his eyes down and dodges anyone coming from the other direction without issue.
Which is why it’s weird when someone runs right into him.
“Oh, geez—sorry, can I—”
“Well, isn’t it great to see you!”
Jimmy blinks, flinches as the man he’d run into slaps him on the back a couple of times. He . . . he has no clue who this is.
His mind instantly cycles through various brutes from Xornoth’s manor, but this face doesn’t match any of them. This man is a bit stocky, straw-colored hair hanging over his forehead, thin beard a bit darker in color. He’s smiling widely, even as he takes Jimmy by the hand and starts dragging him off.
Jimmy can’t help it—some strange man is pulling him away and he panics—with a snap of adrenaline—
The man jumps back, Jimmy coming with him, as a chair is thrown out of the window of the building beside them, narrowly missing them. He chuckles, taps his nose knowingly.
“You aren’t getting me with that one! Don’t worry, I just want to talk. How about in that deli?”
He doesn’t point anywhere, strangely enough, so Jimmy just glances around until he sees a deli.
All the well-trained alarm systems in Jimmy’s brain are firing, but. . . .
Now that he thinks about it, there is something familiar about this man. Maybe it’s his cadence, or his eyes—
And Jimmy realizes with a start that the man is blind, his eyes clouded over, faded scars stretching across them.
He’s shocked enough that he lets the man lead him into the deli, grab them a table, and order himself a sandwich.
That’s when he notices that the man is not only blind, but has earplugs in.
“I’m sorry,” he finds himself saying loudly as the man tucks into his sandwich, “I think you may have mistaken me with someone else.”
The man winces. “You don’t have to shout, I’m right here,” he says around a mouthful of sandwich. “And no, Tim, I know who you are.”
If that isn’t ominous. And also the wrong name, though it once again scritches at the part of his brain that finds something about this man so oddly familiar. “Jimmy,” he automatically corrects. “Not Tim. And I really ought to get going—”
“Back to Scott?”
Jimmy freezes, halfway out of his seat.
“Because I’m pretty sure he’s patrolling around the East side of the city, y’know. Unless you want to call Lizzie. Pretty sure she’s not busy at the minute.”
The man takes another bite out of his sandwich, scratches his beard.
Jimmy’s stomach goes cold. How did he—how can—it’s—
“See Tim, there’s not a lot that I don’t hear about,” the man continues. “However, there is something that I need to know, if you wouldn’t mind answering.”
He needs to get away. Fight or flight has fully kicked in, and Jimmy needs to run. Jimmy raises his hand, ready to do—something, shatter his chair or collapse the table or hurt him in some way—but the man only tsks.
“Come on then, none of that. The three of us have got to stick together, really. Wouldn’t be good to start fighting, especially with the way Nine acts.”
Slowly, Jimmy sits back down. It’s not because he’s intimidated, he tells himself. His fingers twitch. He could kill this man in an instant, and no one would ever know.
The man puts down his sandwich in its wrapper and leans in, head tilted a bit to the side. “So,” he says lowly, “did you kill them?”
Jimmy knows, instinctively, that he means Xornoth.
And it’s not intimidation that makes Jimmy answer. It’s some strange feeling that he knows this man, and cares about him. Something familiar in the line of his nose and the color of his hair.
“Yeah,” says Jimmy in the same low tone. “Yeah, I did.”
The man sits back, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Good. I figured you did, y’know, but I was sleeping when it happened. You could’ve pulled a runner, y’know? Could’ve been someone else to get them. That wouldn’t have been right, though. It had to be one of their . . . erm, what did they start calling them? Subjects?”
Jimmy swallows, then mutters an answer in the affirmative. He keeps having to remind himself that he doesn’t know this man, as familiar as he is. How does he know so much?
“Right. Back in my day, we were ‘participants’. What a joke.” The man shakes his head, then takes another bite of his sandwich. “Well, thanks for the info. I won’t tell anyone, promise—well, I’ll tell Nine, but Nine isn’t much of a talker, so it won’t get out or anything.”
“Right,” Jimmy manages. He checks his phone; Scott should be coming to pick him up soon. He casts his eyes about, trying to think of anything to say to the strange man with white scars and earplugs.
“What happened to your eyes?” he asks eventually. The man smiles ruefully, one hand going up to trace over the scars. They aren’t precise in any way, some smaller ones littered around the corners, long ones down the middle. If Jimmy looks closely, he can even see the places the irises are entirely missing along with the scar, leaving the man with cloudy white streaks through his eyes.
“Let’s just say—next time those scientists of theirs have you on the table, make sure and ask ‘em to strap down your hands,” the man says. “Not that that should ever happen to you again, but you never know, y’know?”
Well.
Jimmy feels slightly ill, staring at those scars. Most of his aren’t self-inflicted, nor nearly as visible as those. Sure, he has one across his cheek, and a small one above his eyebrow, but they don’t usually attract much attention. Scott even thinks they make him look rather dashing. He can only imagine the stares and questions this man gets on a daily basis.
The stranger finishes his sandwich, wiping his fingers off with the wrapper. He stands, tips an imaginary hat toward Jimmy.
“Well, I’ll be off. The city’s a bit loud, don’t you think? Oh, and thanks for footing the bill.”
And then he’s gone, and Jimmy sits there in stunned silence until he shakes himself, heads up to the counter, and pays.
He tries to forget about the man. As weeks pass, he moves on, his days taken up by work and Scott and his friends. And he mostly does forget about the familiar stranger, too busy to spare the mental energy needed to try and figure out who he was.
That is, until one night, nearly a month later.
Lizzie had managed to get a hold of their high school’s yearbook from when she was a senior and Jimmy a sophomore, and together with Scott and Joel they paged through it, laughing at Lizzie’s galaxy-themed outfit and Jimmy’s unbrushed hair.
They stop on the page of the soccer team, and Jimmy knows from the coos and laughs that they’re looking at him and his ridiculous hair, but his eyes are caught on a familiar face.
“Who’s that?” he finds himself saying, pointing to the boy beside him, the boy who has his arm slung around his shoulders, the boy who—in one small picture off to the side, is knuckling Jimmy’s head.
And then he remembers.
He pages through the yearbook until he finds him.
A senior that year. One of his friends, and one of the only people who tried to still hang out with him after his powers got out of hand.
He’d almost completely forgotten about Martyn.
Martyn, the dude with the new Playstation. He’d been powered—not strongly, but with some fairly average super hearing and far vision.
Jimmy thinks back to the man he’d met, blinded by his own hands, hearing so intense that he has to wear earplugs at all times.
And then he wonders, dreading the unknown answer, what kind of mistakes had been made with the experiments before his own—and who on earth Nine might be.
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