#including iPhone Series

[pm-group-limited]

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[homeb0ys]

Okay hear me out…

Homelander emoji’s when? 🤔

[metamatar]

When electronics manufacturing took off in China in the 1980s, rural women who had just begun moving to the cities made up the majority of the factory workforce. They didn’t have many other options. Managers at companies like Foxconn preferred to hire women because they believed them to be more obedient [...]

Hiring a young, female workforce in India comes with its own requirements — which include reassuring doting parents about the safety of their daughters. The company offers workers free food, lodging, and buses to ensure a safe commute at all hours of the day. On days off, women who live in Foxconn hostels have a 6 p.m. curfew; permission is required to spend the night elsewhere. “[If] they go out and not return by a specific time, their parents would be informed,” a former Foxconn HR manager told Rest of World. “[That’s how] they offer trust to their parents.”

[...] the Tamil Nadu government sent a strong signal welcoming Foxconn and other manufacturers: Authorities approved new regulations that would increase workdays from eight to 12 hours. This meant that Foxconn and other electronics factories would be able to reduce the number of shifts needed to keep their production line running from three to two, just like in China. [...] Political parties aligned with the government called the bill “anti-labor” and, during the vote, walked out of the legislative assembly. After the bill passed, trade unions in the state announced a series of actions including a demonstration on motorbikes, civil disobedience campaigns, and protests in front of the ruling party’s local headquarters. The government shelved its new rule within four days.

Indian Foxconn workers told Rest of World that eight hours under intense pressure is already hard to bear. “I’ll die if it’s 12 hours of work,” said Padmini, the assembly line worker.

For the expatriate workers, the slower pace of the factory floors in India is its own shock to the system. A Taiwanese manager at a different iPhone supplier in the Chennai area told Rest of World that India’s 8-hour shifts and industry-standard tea breaks were a drag on production. “You have barely settled in on your seat, and the next break comes,” the manager lamented.

In China, Foxconn relies on lax enforcement of the country’s labor law — which limits workdays to eight hours and caps overtime — as well as lucrative bonuses to get employees to work 11 hours a day during production peaks [...] five Chinese and Taiwanese workers said they were surprised to discover that their Indian colleagues refused to work overtime. Some attributed it to a weak sense of responsibility; others to what they perceived as Indian people’s low material desire. “They are easily content,” an engineer deployed from Zhengzhou said. “They can’t handle even a bit more pressure. But if we don’t give them pressure, then we won’t be able to get everything right and move production here in a short time.” [...] At the same time, the expat staff enjoy the Indian work culture of tea breaks, chatting with colleagues, and going home on time. They recognize they are helping the company spread a Chinese work culture that they know can be unhealthy. [...]

On the assembly line, Foxconn’s targets were tough to reach, workers said. Jaishree, 21, joined the iPhone shop floor in 2022 as a recent graduate with a degree in mathematics. (With India’s high level of unemployment, Foxconn’s assembly line has plenty of women with advanced degrees, including MBAs.) [...] “At the start, during my eight-hour shift, I did about 300 [screws]. Now, I do 750,” she said. “We have to finish within time, otherwise they will scold us.” [...]

Mealtimes are an issue, too. In December 2021, thousands of Indian Foxconn employees protested after some 250 colleagues contracted food poisoning. In response, the company changed food contractors, and increased its monthly base salary from 14,000 rupees to 18,000 rupees ($168 to $216) — double the minimum wage prescribed by the Tamil Nadu labor department for unskilled workers. [...]

Working conditions take a physical toll. Padmini has experienced hair loss because she has to wear a skull cap and work in air-conditioned spaces, she said. “Neck pain is the worst, since we are constantly bending down and working.” She has irregular periods, which she attributes to the air conditioning and the late shifts. “[Among] girls with me on the production line, some six girls have this problem,” Padmini said. Workers said they regularly see colleagues become unwell. “The day before yesterday, a girl fainted and they took her to the hospital,” [...] Padmini, at 26, believes she is close to the age where the company might consider her too old. “They used to hire women up to age 30, now they hire only up to 28,” she said.

[saintescuderia]

pancakes (pt. 1)

welcome a new multi-chapter fic. enjoy.

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

P1 - bulgarian split squats

Really, the only way to survive Formula 1 was by going to the gym. 

The gym addiction was something that had existed long before joining the circus of a motorsports paddock filled with politics and rumours, as well as the slim fitting uniforms that always seemed to be accompanied by, in your opinion, ugly ass shoes. 

Sure, Puma was the offical sponsor but couldn’t they get anything other than the Speedcat? And what even was that name? Speedcat? It was on brand, sure, but at what cost? Really? If Formula 1 was trying to grow its popularity they could honestly start with their dress code. Seeing Christian Horner in Skechers really took the intimidation out of him when you served him his double espresso during the Spanish Grand Prix that one time last season. 

One of the perks of working in Hospitality - and there were very few far and in between - was that uniform was not so strict. F1 Hospitality only required an all black service with ‘comfortable shoes.’ This you took for interpretation. Dunks. Jordan 4s. Maybe 1s. Never 13s. Forces were good for a night race - that usually meant more stairs - and Vans were what you reached for in the morning when you knew you’d be working the barista shift. Converse were for ‘throw away’ races.

These were the races where you knew the shoe-care was not important. For example, Silverstone with its torrential UK drinkers who were likely to throw up on your beloved sneakers. Alas, you had learned the hard way when you almost lost your job by rushing to the kitchen to start scrubbing the vomit off your blue and red Cortez during peak lunch.

Never again.

Admittedly, you did try to keep at least one pair of Converse in good care since they were the renowned shoe come leg day. 

Another perk of working in F1 Hospitality was that every circuit’s map layout had been drilled into your head. Meaning you always knew exactly where the communal driver’s gym was located at and could therefore get your daily dose of dopamine before dealing with… well, everything.

You silenced the shrill horror that came from the iPhone alarm. 4:00 read the lockscreen, the light shining brightly into your face. It didn’t help that your wallpaper had a photo with a clear blue sky, making the light even harsher in the darkness. You could’ve very well changed it and avoid the pain you routinely go through every morning. But it was this very photo that reminded you why you were getting up in four in the morning in the first place. 

You had snapped it during a free practice in Italy that had miraculously lined up with a break in your shift. The sky was clear and the red car was small, but clear on the circuit. Ferrari, of course. You still remember the buzz that circled around the paddock staff that day. No matter who you routed for or whatever bias you had, there was a unanimously acknowledgement that Ferrari winning at Monza was special. He was special. 

Then again, you’ve known that long before he stood on that podium in Italy and was given his infamous nickname. 

It didn’t even take you ten minutes until you were out the door. Your gym clothes (pump cover included!) were on the one limpy chair that decorated your poor little hotel room, your shaker sat on top of your gym bag with you black high top Converse right beside it. By the time you had made it to the gym, it was a little past 4:15 and you had already scooped in pre-workout into your mouth ready to get through the oncoming pain. 

Your hips were a little tight, as per normal. The left side even more so. The hood of your hoodie was up, headphones on and blasting the hardstyle house music that would see you through the next two hours. You went through your usual stretches but with today’s added focus on the lower body. 

And then you went about destroying your legs. 

It was about an hour or so that Oscar finally sleepily arrived. You weren’t actually sure what time it was but you were up to doing bulgarian split squats - and hating life - and that was usually at the hour mark. You gave him a curious once over, noting the odd choice of clothing. It was a little odd to see a driver in the paddock wearing athleisure that wasn’t their team uniform.

“Bro, it’s five in the morning.” Oscar groaned, shuffling over to come and sit on the bench next to you. You gave another three more reps - Oscar silently watching you groan in pain through the last two - and then finally dropped the dumbbells. You reached over to take a sip of water and checked the phone for the time.

“It’s five thirteen in the morning.” You corrected. It had been just about the hour mark. “Are we training today or?” It wasn’t the first time Oscar had joined you. The reason his neck was getting stronger was because of you. In your opinion, the trainer Alpine had assigned Oscar was a fucking idiot.

“You’re doing legs.” Oscar pointed out, as if that was enough of an answer. He leaned to lay back down on the bench and stared up as he continued to speak. “Drivers don’t need bulky legs. We’ve been over this.”

You had. Many times. You knew he was right. It still would be nice to have someone to go through legs with you, though.

“So train with light weights.” You offered, trying. Oscar just gave you a look that made it clear he was not picking up any type of weights. You shrugged, not deterred. “I’ll do calisthenics with you. Or we can work on plyometrics.” Oscar’s response was to close his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Fuck it man, do some cardio.” You came to the last resort, coming to kick his legs as you walked past to load up the smith machine with some different plates. 

“Piss off Tezza.” The Australian-ness continuing to shine through with the nickname that Oscar had specifically designed for you in respect of your shared citizenship to the ‘land down under.’

Except unlike the blond caucasian boy who loved AFL, grew up in Brighton East and attended Haileybury, your Australian-ness was less obvious. Your accent, for one, wasn’t as prominent since your parents were African immigrants. This, of course, didn’t just influence your speech patterns and accent.

Dark skin, dark eyes and dark hair, you weren't exactly the picture of a 'true blue Aussie.' The rite of public school bullying from those who did look 'Australian' (whatever that meant) had you scoffing at vegemite and preferring to follow EPL and La Liga than whatever the fuck was Aussie Rules Football.

Why is it called football if the players pick up the ball?

Still, when a homesick Oscar Piastri overheard one of the Hospitality staff yell out that that they were going for a 'Macca’s run' between the practice sessions on his very first F1 race weekend, he instantly picked up on the Australian-ism. And he didn’t let it go. And cue the beginning of a friendship that had Oscar Piastri calling you ‘bro’ and shortening your last name as per Australian rite.

Even if you had sworn off that sort of thing.

“Oscar, man, if you ain’t here to train then why are you?” You said, locking the plates in place on the smith machine. You lifted up your hood up and ducked under the bar to rest the metal against you shoulders, the hood acting as a cushion. The starting weight was light enough that you wouldn't have to worry about music for your first set. Besides, if Oscar was here, he could be the entertainment for this set. “You forget that this is a driver’s only gym. You could get in trouble." The sarcasm was all too clear in your voice.

No one used the ‘drivers-only’ gym. It was something that every Grand Prix had set up. Mobile, communal and high-end, it had enough equipment to rival the local 24/7 studio franchise gym that seemed to exist in every neighbourhood. Despite the fact that every driver preferred to train at their own motorhome gym - or that every team had their own mobile gym set up in conjunction to the motorhome - F1 still went about packing up and moving their own studio gym to every single location come race weekend.

If anything, it was a nice stop during the presentation walk during the sponsorship lunches where good old Stefano Domenicali would show off all the amazing resources that the Grand Prix space has to offer. 

So, no. F1’s Driver Gym was not used.

The only reason it wasn’t gathering dust was because every weekend it was packed up and moved. That and you woke up at 4am every weekend to destroy your muscles in the familiar red and black equipment.

"You're here." Oscar reminded you. "And not a driver."

You ignored him and just kept up with your repetitions, focusing on engaging your glutes and keeping your core tight. Oscar was silent as you finished your first set. When you finished your last rep, he stood up and came round as you locked the machine. He knew you well enough to pick up the 10kg and help add it to the sides.

"Thanks." You said. Oscar nodded and added the weight to the other side. There was a quiet air for a moment and you went to pick up your headphones to put them back on. Things were getting heavier and you would need music to get through the next few sets.

“I might be leaving Alpine.” 

You looked up at Oscar who dropped the bomb and then looked back at your headphones. You sighed and then dropped the headphones back to land in your gym bag. Headphoneless, you went back to the machine and Oscar took your invitation.

“Zak Brown approached me yesterday and suggested something about picking me up for next year.” Oscar said.

You just kept squatting. Oscar was far too removed to yet be aware of - well, everything.

“And with talk of Fernando quitting, I know that Alpine will be calling me up but do I trust that? Honestly Lando has been doing so well and Ocon has always pissed me off.” Oscar watched as you started to struggle.

He stood up and came around to help you but you just shook you head. You pushed through one more rep and then called it. 

“He does have a punchable face.” You said, now out of breath. Esteban had always annoyed you and before meeting Oscar, you used to dread the weekends where you were put on Alpine.

Your friend handed you the water bottle sat beside your gym bag before you could even ask. You gave a two finger salute in thanks as he continued on.

“And Lily and I got into this massive fight again! Apparently I don’t communicate enough!” He huffed. “But I sent her flowers and chocolates because she’s going through finals and she likes daisies and Cadbury."

“Yeah, but is that her love language though?” You asked, dropping your bottle and going to stack up the final set of weights on the smith machine. Oscar stood up again to help you.

“Her what?” He asked, handing you the plate.

“Love language.” You answered, still panting, and explained, “You’ve got physical touch, gift giving, quality time, words of affirmation and acts of service.” 

“Are you saying people love in specific ways?" Oscar asked, quick to process new information as always.

“Exactly. You did something nice for her, an act of service. Maybe all she wants is a nice, long phone call or maybe some texts complimenting her or something.” You shrugged and then brought up your headphones.

Oscar accepted this, knowing the last set would require music.

He watched you as you settled back under the smith machine bar and went on squatting more than his body weight. He shook his head and ran a hand over his face. He really shouldn't have been surprised at your lack of surprise. Little shocked you. That or your might’ve already known and just kept it to yourself. F1 Hospitality were a part of the Formula One Group and, therefore, were not associated to any one team. They had rotations across all teams and, therefore, every member of staff were required to sign an NDA. Not that ever did anything in this damn place.

Still, Oscar knew that you were one of the few genuine people left in this place.

He knew that there would’ve been so many opportunities where you could’ve easily done something for yourself by recounting something you had overheard while pouring Toto Wolff his coffee or serving Mattia Binotto his lunch. It was the reason why so many teams hired their own internal hospo staff.

It was also the reason why Oscar felt comfortable coming to tell you about Alpine and McLaren before he had even told his own parents, or Lily. The argument with his girlfriend had prevented him from getting any sleep, mulling it over in his mind for hours. Oscar knew you would be able to help him through it all.

And that you would be the only one awake at this godforsaken hour.

By the time you had finished your first set, he was Googling love languages and having a quick read through. 

By the time you had finished your second set, he was halfway through doing the love languages quiz.

By the time you had finished your third and final set, he was seeing what the problem was between him and Lily.

“I think Lily is words of affirmation and I'm acts of service." He said, coming up to the machine as you stepped back and pulled down your headphones. You blinked and nodded, still put of breath. "I think I forgot to check in with her and send her some compliments. Tell her I'm proud of her for getting through exams. Especially because she never is one for gifts, really."

You held out your hand to him. "There you go. Growth."

"I don't know what to do about Alpine."

"Call a lawyer."

Oscar pursed his lips and then considered this. That wouldn't be his first move but thinking about it, it was probably for the best. "That's actually a good idea."

"Isn't that why you're here?" You retorted. "Since you're not here to train. Speaking of which, the fuck is that?"

“What?” He asked and realised you were looking at his feet.

“Zak Brown isn’t going to hire you if he finds out that you’re wearing fucking thongs with socks.” You said, finally recognising the flip-flops he wore with some white socks that really needed to be washed. 

“You’ve been a great help, thanks.” Oscar smiled. You rolled your eyes and went to your gym bag. Pulling out a pair of white Adidas Sambas, you tossed them to Oscar.

“Put these on.”

“Is my footwear really that offensive to you?”

“We’ll go run the track.” You said then gestured to all of him. “It’ll help you burn all of this off.”

Oscar sighed and did as he was told. He laced up the shoes you'd given him that surprisingly fit his large feet and followed you out to the track. He used his pass to get through since a driver running the track at 5:30 in the morning would just be seen as the dedication to the grind. A Hospitality staff member would just be accused of breaking in. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re going through a crisis. I’ve always wanted to do a morning run on the track.” You said with a grin as the pair of you came to the starting line that, in a matter of hours, would be full of mechanics, engineers, reporters, camera crew members and, of course, drivers.  

“If I get a seat at McLaren, you can be my trainer.” Oscar said as you both started warming up into a light jog.

"Ha." You snorted. "As if you could afford me, bro."

next ch [2] >

[morallyinept]

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 6

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 6.7k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie and Jude tentatively start getting to know one another.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 5

Day 4 on the island…

“Come on you piece a’ shit...” Frankie’s putting the battery back into the iPhone just as the sun is coming up.

"¡Trabaja, maldita sea, vamos!" (Work, damn you, come on!) With trembling fingers, his heart pounds in anticipation echoing inside the canal of his ears.

The inside of the phone seems dry enough and he sweeps away some wayward sand that’s blown into it overnight with his thumbs. 

He stands up and takes a deep breath, pressing the power button on. He sighs out when nothing happens and tries again. 

He presses harder, as if the depth of his grip will affect the phone somehow, and the screen lights up. 

“Yes!” He praises through gritted teeth and laughs out jubilantly through a crackled squaw. 

The iPhone powers on and the battery status bar is down to nineteen percent. The home lock screen is presented to him with the faces of two children smiling toothily into the camera with freckles and red curls, and for a second it quells his relief. 

A sickly feeling washes over Frankie, a wave of disappointment crashing against the shores of his hope. It’s as if the weight of their predicament bears down on him with renewed intensity, suffocating him with its crushing reality. And of course, he won’t know the unlock code. 

He tries a few obvious combinations, including his own that he’d set on his own phone, but it doesn’t unlock. 

He notices the signal bar and it’s out of service. He holds the phone up above his head, squinting in the sunlight to see if it changes, and it doesn’t. 

As he turns in the sand, this way and that, he clocks the ridge and decides that getting to higher ground might be beneficial. 

Around twenty minutes or so later, he’s on the top of the ridge, red-faced and sweating profusely, holding the phone up again above his head. 

“Por favor, vamos. No hagas esto, trabaja!" (Please, come on. Don’t do this to me, work!) He growls at it as he moves about and steps closer to the ledge and then back again, waving his arm around like a helicopter blade trying to pick up any signal. “No te rindas ahora, bastarda…” (Don’t give up now, you bastard…)

A sense of helplessness shreds at Frankie’s already tattered insides, twisting his stomach into knots as he grapples with the harsh truth that he’s trying desperately to shut out.

The sickly feeling lingers, a heavy weight in the pit of his empty stomach, as he struggles to come to terms with the futility of the situation.

Frankie gives up when his arm starts to ache and dials a number anyway on the emergency keypad; he dials Benny’s number, as that’s the only number he knows off by heart. 

Anguish gnaws at Frankie's insides, a bitter taste of despair lingering on his tongue. In his mind's eye, Frankie pictures Benny’s warm smile, the easy laughter that always seemed to lighten the mood. He imagined the conversation they would have - the jokes they would share, the stories they would reminisce about, the camaraderie that once transcended distance and time and could stand the test of anything.

Until Frankie smashed it all to smithereens.

He plays the conversation out his head.

"Hey, Benny! You won't believe where I fuckin’ am right now!"

And in his imagination, Benny's voice echoes back - a reassuring presence in the darkness of his swamping isolation.

"Fish, buddy, where the fuck are you, man?"

The call doesn’t connect and the iPhone flashes up with the no signal icon again. 

“Mierda!” (Shit!) Frankie mutters in Spanish profanity and switches the phone back off. 

A myriad of emotions flood Frankie's senses - a mixture of disappointment, frustration, and a profound sense of helplessness that makes his fingers twitch and tap at his side.

He closes his eyes, taking in deep breaths, trying to ignore the feeling that is seeping in like an old friend; a shadow that constantly lurks in the corners of his mind, waiting to ensnare him in its web once more.

He feels the familiar tug of temptation - a biting hunger that claws at his insides, demanding to be sated. It’s as if the very air around him is infused with the scent of his former vice, a potent reminder of the demons he’s struggled to leave behind.

And Frankie feels the crushing weight of them threatening to suffocate him beneath their constricting stranglehold. The island itself, now a prison, its tranquil beauty a cruel mockery of his inner turmoil and struggles.

The phone, once a beacon of hope, now lies dormant in his palm, a cruel reminder of their isolation and the limitations of their circumstances.

Even if by some miracle the call had connected, he knew the call wouldn’t be answered.

He remembers the excuses he'd made, the promises he had broken, the bridges he'd burned and watched collapse in his reckless pursuit of oblivion.

In the silence of his solitude on the ridge, Frankie's only able to confront the harsh truth again - that his addiction has driven a wedge between him and the people he cares about most, and now, he's on his own.

He stands on the ridge for an indeterminable amount of time, sweating, his body shaking and feeling light-headed, and staring out at the seemingly never ending ocean, feeling ever more pissed at the world. 

Fuck.

As soon as light pools into the cave mouth, Jude’s awake and watching as Frankie begins an impromptu fashion show on the beachfront.

It hadn’t rained during the night, disappointed to find only a bug inside one of the bottles, Jude had watched with some distant interest as the bug skittered around inside, trapped and unable to cling to the sides to crawl out fully.

She couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for its plight; she and Frankie were trapped too.

She’d tipped it out onto the sand, watching it scurry away under some pebbles and wondered how simple a bug’s life must be. 

They still had the bottled water and some cans of fizzy drinks for now, but Jude was more than aware that they needed to get a water source set up and with some urgency too. 

Frankie had informed her about the cell phone’s lack of signal as she’d emerged from the cave mouth to find him sorting through the clothes with a grey cloud looming over his head, and it started to bring the mood down between them a little. 

As the words left his chapped lips, he watched her expression falter - a fleeting glimpse of disappointment that mirrored his own. He could see the hope drain from her eyes, replaced by a weary resignation that seemed to settle over her like a heavy shroud.

For a moment, there was silence between them - a palpable heaviness that hung in the air, stifling any words of comfort or reassurance.

Frankie felt a pang of guilt chomp at his insides, knowing that he had raised her hopes only to dash them against the harsh reality of their circumstances.

"I'm sorry," he’d whispered, his voice marred with the usual tone of disappointing others that he was used to. "I thought… I thought maybe it would work. But we'll figure something out."

She didn't say anything, instead turning away from him with a shrug. 

Silences seemed to linger and feel heavy, and it was hard to talk about anything optimistically or offer a smile for a little bit. Even the bonanza of food and clothes they’d found in the fuselage yesterday seemed like a short-lived hurrah.

The iPhone was a bust, and somewhere deep in the back of Jude’s mind, she kinda knew it would be.

Frankie’s standing on the beach wearing a rather bold, and lurid orange, Hawaiian shirt, that doesn’t do anything for him in the slightest. He flirts with the ridiculous and they both know it.

“What were you thinking when you picked this out?” He asks rather askance, looking down at himself, giant palms facing outward. 

Jude had sorted through the clothes previously and handed him lots to try on, seeing as the majority of the clothes they had found were menswear.

There were a few pieces for her; a couple of pairs of shorts, some t-shirts and a turquoise summer dress with sequins on it, with some black flip flops and a black bikini.

Frankie however had a pile the size of a small mountain to pick from.

“Brings out your eyes,” she giggles. “Put it in the maybe pile.”

Frankie looks at her with a whimsical look before he unbuttons it and shoves it back into the suitcase. 

“It’s going in the fuckin’ burn it now and never speak of it again pile.” He muses.

Jude looks away feeling suddenly like she’s intruding on something she shouldn’t see as he stands only in his jeans, swollen and bruised, rummaging back through the pile for something else less gaudy.

He likes a jazzy, floral shirt, and rocks it more often than not, but that's too jazzy even for his liking.

He’s kinda strapping - a toned buck that’s a bit lanky, and little chonky and meaty in all the right places, especially around his tummy and thighs, and the broadest shoulders to boot.

He smells clean, or cleaner than he was previously; like soap and wild meadows in springtime wafting off of him, though that briny scent still seems to cling to skin no matter how much he washed himself with the soap.

His hair is a mess of chocolate brown, but with lighter tones weaved throughout the curls when the sun hits it. Although, he keeps it tucked away under the cap that’s been fixed on his head since Jude had met him. 

They’d both taken the time that morning to wash and clean themselves in the ocean water at separate ends of the beach. Each taking a small amount of soap and some towels they’d found in the cases.

Jude opted for the yellow striped towel and smirked as Frankie was left with the Finding Nemo one. 

Inside the sea, fully naked, Jude had rinsed her hair with fruity shampoo and detangled it with her fingers and tied it up, with a hair tie she’d found in the make-up bag, in a bun to dry.

She’d dried off on the sand; sitting back and watching the shore line for a while whilst she applied the sun lotion to her raw skin, in case she missed a boat or something, ever hopeful and convinced that today would be the day they would both would get off this God forsaken piece of rock in the middle of the current. 

She’d applied some of the antiseptic cream to her wound on the back of her calf and it stung a little, but was definitely healing, although she’d probably be left with a horrid scar.

Better a scar than an amputation from gangrene… 

When she was dressed in some khaki shorts and a new t-shirt that was a little baggy on her, Jude walked back to the beach to see Frankie sitting on the rocks fingering through the clothes pile, wearing only his towel around his golden, puffy waist.

His legs were incredibly long and his shoulders defined in all the right places; it was a hard feat not to stare at him like a dribbling chimp.

She excused herself whilst he dressed; giving him some privacy as she retreated to the cave mouth to return the toiletries, keeping them in the shade out of the sun would ensure they’d last.

Then returned and sat on the rocks watching as he tried on some of the tops and shirts on offer to him once he was suitably decent, back in his jeans that sit low on his paunchy waist.

The gray sweater swamps him slightly, but is short in the arms and baggy at the neck where it’s been stretched by its previous owner, but it’s better than nothing.

Better than the Finding Nemo towel, even if Jude can’t stop looking at his body, despite trying her best not to. 

He takes off the sweater in front of her and all she can do is try not to obviously look as he reveals himself to her casually. He has a few dark hairs circling his nipples and a snail trail that matches them from his oddly slot-shaped belly button, which disappears into his waistband.

Her eyes betray her and she’s drawn to his midriff where she spies a constellation of bruises, some in their embryonic stage, and can’t help but ask where he got them from.

“You’re all beaten up.” Jude says to him.

Some are in the yellowing stage. a couple dotted across the ridge of his hip bones. One under his right arm, down the side of his ribcage, is larger and purple with broken red blood vessels.

He looks down at his chest dumbfounded for a moment and then shrugs.

Frankie doesn’t say anything and pulls on a gray, round necked t-shirt that suits him much better than the jazzy Hawaiian shirt. It’s tight on him in all the right places.

“From the crash, I guess. I remember something hitting me in the water... It was the piece of debris that saved my life in the end. I think it was part of the wing.” Frankie explains, thinking aloud. 

“Jesus.” Jude utters.

She remembers clinging onto the piece of sheet metal debris herself, although it wasn’t big enough for her to sit on it or anything like that, it just simply kept her afloat as she drifted into an uncertain abyss.

“I just laid on it floating in the water for so long. I had no fuckin’ idea where the current was taking me. I remember looking up and seeing land after passing out, and I think at that point I couldn’t believe it was real. I was convinced I was gonna die out there.” Frankie speaks with a deep reverence, his eyes looking off to the water and focused on reliving through his harrowing memories of only a few days prior. 

Jude knew; she felt it for she’d experienced the same horror he had - lived through it as he had. Both of them alone on the water gaining common ground, unaware at the time that there was another person, another survivor, not too far from their suffering, going through the same dreadful plight.

It was a terrifying ordeal, but somehow made it easier to cope with in the aftermath, that each of them wasn’t fully alone out there on the water after all. So near, yet so far.

“I felt the same when I saw it. I started swimming like crazy and the thought occurred to me that I could be imagining it too, and swimming into deeper water or something; that I was going to drown because I would never make it, you know? Like the island was playing tricks on me.” Jude recalls. 

Frankie stops the fashion show and sits down opposite her on the rocks as she swallows back a choke. Fine wisps of her hair have come loose from her bun and stick to her lips. 

“Do you… remember it, the moment we crashed?” Frankie asks carefully. 

She shakes her head. “You?”

“Flashes.” He says. “The point of impact though, I just… it’s hazy.”

Jude nods. “Perhaps that’s a good thing.” She concludes. 

“It’s peaceful here... quiet.” Frankie observes after some time. “Kinda beautiful in a way.”

“Yeah. Do you know which gang runs this turf? We should really compliment them on what they’ve done with the landscape.” Jude muses.

Frankie chuckles as he drinks from the water bottle. “I don’t know what would’ve happened to us if we hadn't found this island.” Frankie surmises looking at her with some concern.

The thought makes both of their blood run cold.

“It’s not worth thinking about; we’re here. We survived a fucking plane crash, that’s gotta be cosmic or something.”

“Either that or we’re the luckiest two assholes in the world.” Frankie concludes.

“If we had champagne, I’d certainly toast to that.” Jude giggles.

Frankie thinks for a second. “Hang on,” he stands up and walks over to the cave mouth.

“No way!” Jude gasps as he comes back with two small, individual sized bottles he’d taken from the trolley, looking tiny in his giant hands. 

“It’s not champagne, just sparkling wine. But close enough.” He remarks.

It’s somewhat cool from being in the shade all night in the case and as he twists off the caps, they chink the bottles together. 

“To the luckiest two assholes in the world,” Jude toasts with a smirk.

“To us, hermosa.” Frankie agrees, before taking a mouthful of the wine.

Fire is an absolute necessity in any kind of survival situation. 

You need fire for multiple reasons; warmth, to cook food, to use the smoke for a signal. To ward off predators that might be lurking in the underbrush watching you from the trees, working out the best time to pounce and eat you.

And of course, to see in the choking darkness that swamps the island as soon as the sun disappears from the sky for another day. 

Assuming that you don’t have traditional fire starting devices such as matches or a lighter with you - I mean on a desert island that would be a miracle in itself if you did - you’ll need to come up with a more creative way to start your fire.

One example of what you can do is to use the bottom of a soda or beer can to reflect the heat of the sun onto your kindling, or you can use your glasses or a pair of binoculars if you have them, to focus the heat of the sun on your tinder instead.

Frankie decided instantly that they made starting fires in movies look so fucking easy, because it’s anything but. He’d been at it for ages, after gathering plenty of sticks and dried-out leaves he could find in a pile by the rocks, to the right of the cave mouth, but soon gave up when he felt the rawness in his palms.

He then tried using the glass from one of the empty wine bottles, angling it in the sunlight until he gave that up too and tossed it across the rocks, smashing it to pieces as it made contact with it. 

He grunted out in annoyance and stood up pacing, and then crouched down to have another go at the stick rubbing. 

A while later and he managed to get a faint whiff of burning fill his nostrils as he worked the fire-plow method, taking to digging a groove into the wood with the switchblade Jude had found, and rubbing a stick back and forth in his palms relentlessly; twisting it round and round, back and forth, until he could blow on it and see a faint ember glow. 

He was careful to ensure it didn’t go out and was almost skipping with glee around it like a Neanderthal when the wispy smoke gave birth to actual flames. 

"Toma eso, hijo de puta!” (Take that, you motherfucker!) Frankie yelped, smiling and tossed more leaves and branches onto it, scurrying over to the tree line and back again with more sticks to burn so it didn't go out. 

An hour or so later and the fire is almost as tall as he is, and radiating a lot of heat and smoke on the beachfront as darkness starts to claim the sky. 

Jude’s impressed and high-fives him when she emerges from the cave with two of the airline’s pre-packaged meals. 

“Now we have fire, maybe we should check out the cave at some point?” Frankie suggests. 

He glances at it over her shoulder and she nods with a thin smile. 

She empties the contents of the meals into two of the washed out tin cans, and sets them into the fire to cook. 

“Chicken or beef, sir?” She asks Frankie, imitating a steward with a high pitched voice, and he laughs as he brings over two bottles of warm beer and uses his teeth to uncap them. 

They eat together on the beach in a contented silence, hot food and a beer doesn’t get much better than this, considering what they’ve been through over the course of the last few days.

It seems to perk them both up a little after the depressing events with the iPhone.

“How did you get on with the water?” Jude asks him, as she puts her beer down in the sand. 

“I made a couple of solar stills, over there.” Frankie points to the edge of the rocks where it rounds down a slight slope towards the shoreline.

“What’s a solar still exactly?” She asks, scooping some of the meat into her mouth with her fingers and then sucking them clean.

Frankie has to look away when she does it, there’s something... untamed about it. 

He swallows. “Basically, a hole in the ground with a can and lots of leaves and plastic over it. Water drips from the plastic sheet into the can, like condensation, I guess.”

“Neat.”

“We can check ‘em daily and drink as we need to. Any empty bottles or cans we have from the stash we can place in the sand to collect rainwater too; should be enough to keep us going for a little while at least.” He explains.

“Did they teach you all of this stuff in the Army?”

“Yeah, some basic survival,” he says. “Although, they don’t teach you about being stranded on an island in the middle of the fuckin' ocean.” He clears his throat as he sups from his beer. 

“No, I guess not,” Jude says, gathering more meat in her fingers. 

“So, have you been all over the world with your job?” Frankie asks, making some conversation as they eat. 

“Mostly Europe and the States; some parts of Scandinavia too, Iceland… I have a trip to Namibia planned later this year.” She contemplates it. “Or had.”

“Hey,” Frankie rouses her eyes to his. “You’re still going. We’ll be off this island real soon.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you're probably right.” She says.

The crackling fire casts flickering shadows across the sand, as they share a simple meal amidst the shadows of the oncoming night.

The aroma of the packaged meals fills the air, mingling with the salty tang of the ocean breeze as they sit like worn-out lumps, close to the warmth of the flames.

“What place did you like the most?” Frankie asks, shooing the lingering silence away as it crawls out from the shadows to taunt him. 

“Paris. It’s my favourite city.” Jude says after she finishes chewing.

“I’ve never been.”

“I love Paris. The architecture is awesome. The food. The art.” Jude says, dreamily. “I love traipsing around the Louvre all day.”

“You like all them pretty statues, huh?”

“It’s touching a piece of history, something so nostalgic about it.”

Frankie nods again as he eats, licking his lips free of the sauce. “This is pretty good.”

“Not bad for an economy meal. Did you fly in coach?” She enquires, casually. 

“No, I was, uh, up in business class.” He says, mumbling.

“Fancy.”

“Company paid for it. Where were you sitting on the plane?” Frankie asks, looking at her.

“Right at the back in economy; the very last seats by the exit doors. I once read that if you sit in the back of a plane, you have a sixty-eight percent chance of survival in a crash, and I guess it kind of stuck with me.”

“What about in the middle?”

“Lower, but still pretty good odds. Did you brace like they tell you to in the safety demo?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t remember.”

She touches her head and it still feels sore and swollen. She doesn’t remember much either; she’d put on her oxygen mask and whatever it was that struck her head had knocked her clean out.

Although she’s grateful for that, some sadistic curiosity wants to remember the actual impact. 

“I bet my mom is freaking out,” she assumes solemnly. 

Frankie places down his empty tin can and sits back against the rock, staring into the fire. It’s still burning tall and brightly orange with its dancing flames. 

“I imagine she probably is.” He affirms.

“And your parents, your family?” 

He shrugs. “Maybe.” Although he’s doubtful. 

“Even my asshole of an ex-fiancé is probably trying to reach me.”

“You were engaged?” Frankie asks. 

She nods, supping from her beer some more. “We were together for four years and they were all miserable to be honest with you.” 

“Ah, they can’t have been all bad.”

“Trust me.”

“Well, tell me.” He smiles crookedly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Tell me about it. What was he like?”

“A douche bag.” Jude confirms, running her tongue around her teeth.

He chuckles. “No, I mean when you first met him.”

She thinks for a moment. “Charming. Stupid…” Jude tries not to smile. “I dunno, he was just… perfect.”

Frankie snorts.

“What?”

“Come on, no-one’s perfect.” He says. 

“I thought he was. But I was an idiot for thinking he would change, you know? He treated me… he cheated mostly, that kind of thing.”

“That sucks,” Frankie says.

“Dumb thing is, I let him. It’s like I lost my damn mind and was convinced it was better to be with him then be alone; like I wasn’t worthy to be loved properly by someone. I kinda lost myself for a bit...” 

Frankie watches her speak and listens to her, seeing the orange from the flames dance inside her wistful eyes.

He remembers Eddie's words echoing around his head.

“They say we attract the kind of love we think we deserve.” Frankie states to her as he looks down at his hands knotting in his lap. 

She nods. “I guess that’s true. The irony is, is that it will probably never happen now anyway.” Jude concludes with the final swig of her beer before she tosses the empty on the sand beside her.

“Don’t say that. We’ll get off this island and you’ll find someone that’ll treat you right back home.” Frankie assures with a tight smile. 

“Doubtful. I’m sworn off men for life.” She composes herself and hugs her knees, looking over at him. “What about you, what’s your story, Pilot?” She asks, smiling and he smirks back at her. 

“Probably even more depressing than yours,” Frankie says.

“Well, I love a good depressing story, I mean look around us.” Jude motions her hand around the dark, isolated beach and he chuckles.

Frankie takes another mouthful of warm, sudsy beer. “It’s really nowhere near as exciting.”

“Tell me about the Army, what was that like?”

“Challenging.”

“How long did you serve?”

“Twenty years.”

“Wow.” Jude Baulks. “What places?”

“Darfur. Iraq. Bosnia. There’s more…” 

“Impressive. You said you retired?”

“Yeah.” Frankie nods. 

“You don’t look old enough to retire.” Jude says, noting the boyish looks hovering around his tan weathered skin that’s shadowed under the brim of his cap. 

“I feel it.” Frankie grumbles. 

“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Forty-three. I was twenty-two when I enlisted. It’s all I’ve ever really known.”

“Did you know you wanted to enlist?”

He nods. “I knew I always wanted to fly. I made captain at twenty-eight.”

“You’re a captain?”

“Yeah.”

“You should have flown the damn plane. We might’ve made it.” Jude quips. 

“I would've if I could. I can only fly helicopters.”

“I’ve never been in a helicopter. What’s it like?”

“Like…” He trails off, recalling those moments filled with adrenaline as he took to the skies in his chopper, the familiar whir of the rotors and the exhilarating rush of lift-off filling him with a sense of euphoria unlike anything else.

The controls responding to his touch with precision, each sure movement a testament to his skill and expertise as a pilot. With the ground falling away beneath him, Frankie felt a surge of freedom coursing through his veins - a liberation from the constraints of gravity and the mundane concerns of everyday life.

In the vast expanse of the sky, he found solace - a sanctuary where he could leave behind the worries of the world below and lose himself in the exhilaration of flight, sharing the sky with the birds.

The sheer beauty of the world stretched out before him, a panorama of rolling hills and winding rivers, filled him with an awe that bordered on reverence.

But amidst the beauty of the natural world, there was also a sense of power - a thrill that pulsed through him with each manoeuvre, each twist and turn of the aircraft.

He was in control, he had the grit to keep the bird in the air or bring it to land safely.

He looks down at his hands and the tremble that makes itself known in his fingers again as he balls them into fists.

These hands can’t fly shit anymore...

“Maybe I’ll get to experience it one day.” Jude concludes, quietly. 

“Did you always know you wanted to take pictures?” Frankie asks, clearing his throat.

“My parents brought me my first camera when I was six. I had no idea what I was doing with it, it was this old, clunky thing… a Panasonic, I think. One of those flippy out screens. Far too expensive for a six-year old.” She puts down her empty tin after she’s finished eating from it. 

“That’s cool,” he says, listening to her speak intently.

Frankie watches as a smile plays across her lips, a flicker of childhood innocence reflected in her eyes.

He can imagine her as a young girl, eagerly exploring the world through the lens of her camera, capturing moments of wonder and discovery with each click of the shutter.

"I took it everywhere with me," Jude continues, her voice tinged with a sense of wistfulness. "I would snap photos of anything and everything - flowers in the garden, my dog Winky, even the clouds in the sky. It was like a window into another world…"

“You named your dog Winky?" Frankie chuckles.

"No, my parents did." She grins.

"Sure, sure."

"It's funny," she muses, her gaze drifting towards the dark sky above. "Even now, all these years later, I still feel that same sense of wonder whenever I pick up a camera. It's like I'm transported back to that time. Never gets old. I guess that’s how it feels for you, right, flying?” She enquires, her knees brought closer to her chest and resting her elbow on them as she regards him, the flames casting spooky, swaying shadows that dance over his face.

Frankie nods at her with a reverent smile. “Yeah. It does.” 

She runs her hands through her hair, taking it out of the bun as the breeze whips around them.

“How did your ex-girlfriend handle it? I imagine it must have been hard to leave her for so long whilst you were serving?”

It stings a little in her gut, imagining how Nate would react in such a situation and knowing full well he would have taken complete advantage of it too, the scumbag.

Women falling at his feet? Oh yeah.

“We weren’t together then, we met after I got out.”

“Tell me about her.”

Frankie’s face immediately wrinkles.

“Oh come on, I told you about mine.” She grins.

He swallows hard. “I was an asshole to her.” He brings his beer bottle up to his lips again and pauses before drinking. 

“What did you do?”

He shakes his head. “I just wasn’t… good.”

Jude nods slowly as though she’s analysing his words carefully. Noting a silent plea in his eyes telling her not to probe too deeply. 

“Were you unfaithful?” Jude asks, poking idly at the fire pit with a branch she’s picked up beside her.

“No, nothing like that,” Frankie confirms, looking her square in the eye. “What I did was probably worse.” He explains, feeling that he’s probably giving too much away to her, but talking to her seems to flow as naturally as the warm beer going down his throat. 

“We all make mistakes.” She feels a pull in her stomach as she says it.

“Doesn’t make it right though.”

“No, it doesn’t. But what’s important is that we learn and grow from them instead of repeating them. Although, I’m one to talk. Hell, I’ve made plenty, so I’m certainly not going to judge you for a moment of weakness, Frankie. Only God can do that, if you believe in Him.”

He shakes his head. "Do you?"

"Fuck no!" She laughs and he grins. "You're kidding, right?"

It’s on the edge of his tongue, the fucked up truths about him ready to be bared in all their shameful flesh and graces, but he keeps his lips shut up tight and just watches Jude's shoulders still when her giggles die out. 

They sit in a contemplative, comfortable silence sipping from their warm beers and listening to the fire crackle and spit. It’s almost as if this conversation, a conversation of equals, has made Jude evaluate and respect the fact that he’s so forthcoming with her, when he doesn’t need to be.

He can easily just feed her a pack of lies; make up a story about who he was back on dry land. They could be rescued at any moment and then what? They’d probably go back to their own lives and never talk again in the most likelihood of outcomes.

Apart from being stranded on an island together, what did they actually have in common? 

Their paths would never have crossed in any other situation, she realises that. But that’s also the beauty of it. The fact that it’s possible in this world, against all odds for two people, two complete strangers with their own pasts, stories, experiences to be thrust into one another’s path for reasons that they probably don’t understand or even consider at the time. 

Everything happens for a reason.

“Can we have a do over you think, when we get off this fuckin’ island?” Frankie asks with a contemplative smile.

“I think we deserve that, don’t you?” Jude says, with a little smile of comfort offered back to him. 

“I think we’ve definitely paid our dues, right?” Frankie smirks crookedly. 

She looks up at the sky. “You hear that universe? Fish says we’ve paid our fucking dues!”

Frankie also looks up at the sky and smiles. 

“Wow. Look how clear it is up there.” Jude muses.

The sky is insanely black, but there are millions of stars scattered across it, far more than you would see on a normal night in a busy town clogging the sky with that pesky light pollution.

It’s as though someone has tossed millions of diamonds up there and they all twinkle in unison. 

“I’ve never seen so many stars,” Jude marvels; lying backwards until she’s flat against the sand and staring right up on high. 

Frankie shuffles down and lays beside her, keeping a subtle gap, his legs running parallel to hers and clasping his hands over his chest in astonishment.

They both just stargaze and stay locked inside an awed silence whilst their eyes take in the view presented to them; seeming like it’s just for them and no-one else. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She asks after some time just lying there basking in the wonderment that space has to offer. 

“Yeah,” Frankie agrees; his eyes roaming across the sky seeking out constellations he’s familiar with, his curious mind questioning all that’s known and unknown. 

The beauty of space is unequalled; rendering you catatonically mute in astonishment as you try to untangle all its mysteries and the questions it provokes in you.

And yet you can never begin to fathom or accept its infinite wisdom it has to offer you. All you can do is point and drool as you say ‘pretty stars’ over and over again like you’ve been given a lobotomy and can’t remember your own name. 

It knocks you for six and winds you as you stare up into the black, never ending void of space, time and unchartered territory, which in our lifetimes, we’ll never explore or understand fully.

And it’s all kinds of wonderful as it makes you and all your problems seem utterly insignificant for a while; problems like being stuck on a desert island and never knowing when or even if you’ll ever be rescued. 

For a few short moments, Jude forgets they’re both stranded and trying to survive. For a few short minutes, Frankie forgets he’d fought for his life in the water against the current trying to drown him. 

For several quiet beats they’re one with the cosmos and everything else pales into insignificance. 

“I used to do this as a kid.” Jude smiles, remembering all the times she would sneak out of her room onto the roof with ease and watch the sky at night.

Thinking then how brilliant it was to see the stars, but never imagined there could be millions in the sky like she’s seeing now. “I’d stay out for hours just watching the sky and taking pictures of the moon; I saw a shooting star once.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, it was so cool.”

“Did you make a wish?” Frankie asks with a smile escaping his mouth as he turns his head towards her.

“That would be telling.”

“Ah, you’re no fun,” he says, as she nudges his elbow with hers. 

“I remember wondering what it would be like to be a shooting star travelling so fast across space. Sounds stupid, I know.”

“Not at all. I’ve seen one myself.”

In a fleeting moment of respite during his time on the frontline, he saw it - a shooting star streaking across the heavens, a radiant beacon of light amidst the dark ravages of war.

For a brief instant, time seemed to stand still as Frankie had watched in awe, his breath caught in his throat as he marvelled at the celestial spectacle unfolding before him, whilst he was covered in dirt and desert dust.

“What did you wish for?” Jude asks.

“World peace,” he says, very deadpan.

She snickers and sits upright on her elbows.

The backdrop of the sky seems to meet with the water and endure a long kiss goodnight as they merge into one being in the dark. 

“Have you seen the Northern Lights on your travels?” Frankie asks her.

She nods. “A few times, in Scandinavia; but it was very brief. They were gone just as quickly as they appeared. But it’s still pretty awesome.”

“I bet. I’d love to see them; all that green.”

“They’re pink too.” Jude says, looking up at the sky.

“You saw that?”

“No. I want to though.”

“You will one day. I know it.”

“Are you psychic there, Frankie? You can see our future beyond this island, huh?” She questions with a grin.

He laughs, crinkling his nose and it’s kinda beautiful. “No. But I know we’re going leave here. Really soon.”

“I really hope you’re right about that.” She looks back up at the sky and hopes a shooting star will appear so she really can wish that they’ll be rescued. 

“Unfortunately, I’m right about everything.” Frankie states confidently and grins, and she playfully mock punches him on the shoulder. 

“That wasn’t very nice,” he feigns shock and ouchies.

“Well, I’m not a nice person.” Jude teases.

“Yes you are. You have good vibes about you.” Frankie confirms. 

“You think so?” 

He nods slowly and looks back at the sky himself. “Some things I just know.”

“Good old psychic Frankie. When we get home, I’m going to buy you a crystal ball.” Jude snorts. 

“When we get home I’m going to buy you a burger. And a beer.” Frankie confirms, chuckling. 

“Fuck, don’t talk to me about burgers... Aww man. I really want, like the sloppiest, greasiest cheeseburger, with fried onions and so much ketchup squirting out the sides of it.” She can feel her mouth beginning to water like crazy at the thought of it. "Oh my God..."

“Now you’re fuckin’ talking.” He agrees, licking his lips.

They both smile and shift back to that awed, comfortable silence as they stargaze on high for a while longer.

“I’ll hold you to that, you know.” Jude puts to him after a while. “I want my cheeseburger.”

“I promise, hermosa.” Frankie reassures, turning to her and smiling in the firelight.

His eyes are big and dark and she marvels at the intensity of them, two deep wells pulling her in.

“Good.” She smiles back at him.

To be continued...

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[frangipanilove]

Full Circle Apple Symbolism; Rick's "Resurrection" in TOWL

From TWD 10x13 What We Become to TOWL 1x6 The Last Time

Apple symbolism was always tied to Rick and Michonne specifically, but in a more general sense, it tells a story about reunion, rebirth and resurrection.

In TWD 10x13 What We Become, Michonne went with Virgil to his island, because he insisted there were weapons to be found there, and Michonne needed weapons for the Whisperers war.

Once there, things took a turn. There were no weapons, and Virgil wasn't in a great place, psychologically speaking. He was confused and traumatized after the loss of his wife and children. He trapped Michonne in a room, and poisoned her by mixing Jimsonweed into her tea.

My favorite way to decipher symbolism in TWDU is through etymology. Almost everything in TWDU has multiple layers of symbolism, and an etymology search is helpful in most cases. This one was no exception; the name Jimsonweed is ultimately derived from a Hindi name which translates to "thorn apple".

Yup. Jimsonweed is ultimately an apple reference. In fact, "Jimsonweed" goes under the name "thorn apple" in many languages, my own included.

The first apple reference of the episode came as we watched Virgil pick the hallucinogenic plant immediately after the opening credits. There would be more to come later...

Michonne did not have a pleasant reaction to the drug. She hallucinated herself in a series of alternate existences, such as being one of the Saviors, and not being around her real family. After the drugs wore off, she overpowered Virgil, and scolded him for putting her in a drugged out state where she experienced having temporarily lost her family:

Then she asked him about his hallucinations:

And this is where we start to touch on the true meaning behind the symbolism around apples. Because, unlike Michonne, Virgil experienced that the hallucinogenic thorn apple brought his family back to him:

"What do you see when you're tripping anyway?"

"Lisa with that damn camera pointed at everyone.

My babies.

Bobby and me lying on the roof of that Annex, looking up at the stars."

It brought his family back.

Virgil wasn't primarily evil, he was broken from the trauma of losing his family.

There's a parallel with Rick there. Where Rick survived in the CRM by meeting up with his loved ones in his dreams, Virgil got to be with his family by taking hallucinogenic herbs. They both found ways to stay close to their loved ones through an altered state, Rick through his dreams, Virgil through the thorn apple tea.

On a surface level, it's clear that Michonne had a bad trip from the thorn apple, and that she was shook by what she experienced as a temporary loss of her family. She was rightfully angry about having been drugged. Virgil, more confused and traumatized than evil, explained that he had wanted to help her because he could tell she was in pain over having lost loved ones, much like himself.

Michonne was not impressed, but at the very least she didn't kill him.

However, under the surface, the apple symbolism heralds "reunion, rebirth and resurrection", something which she was about to discover:

Virgil took her to a boat marked with the numbers 672, in which she found Rick's boots and an Apple iPhone with etchings of herself and Judith. It was the same boat we later saw in 11x24 Rest In Peace, when we saw Rick throw his backpack onboard, before being recaptured.

This is the first "proof of life" both we, the audience, and Michonne got from Rick, and it was the apple symbolism that led us here. Because, apple symbolism is about reunion, resurrection and rebirth.

As we know, finding the Apple iPhone and his boots was what convinced her Rick could be alive, it was what encouraged her to leave to search for Rick.

We recently watched her succeed at finding him in TOWL, but not without some resistance from a deeply traumatized Rick.

In TOWL 1x4 What We, which is the episode where Rick fully "came back", the episode where he finally broke free and chose "life" with Michonne over staying "dead" in the CRM, we learned that he had initially gotten through the days in the CRM by meeting up with Carl in his dreams.

Then that had stopped, Carl had stopped coming to him in his dreams.

Michonne had gotten an iPhone with an etching of Carl, and implored Rick to do what Carl would have wanted him to do, which led to a psychological breakthrough for Rick.

This was Rick's true "resurrection", this was when he fully "surrendered" to Michonne, to his family, to "life". It was the Apple iPhone with Carl's picture that truly made Michonne able to reach through to him, through all the layers of trauma and isolation accumulated over time.

On a symbolic level, the apple symbolism and the Apple iPhones were what facilitated this reunion between Rick and Michonne. He had survived in the CRM by "being dead", then the Apple iPhone with Carl's picture "brought him back to life".

This symbolized Rick's "resurrection", this was the true purpose of the apple symbolism all along. Apple symbolism is about "reunion, resurrection and rebirth"!

Similarly, it was the Apple iPhone Michonne found in the boat on Virgil's island that made her believe that Rick could truly be alive, it was the Apple iPhone that convinced her he was out there, that made her go out searching for him.

Apple symbolism as something that heralds reunion, resurrection and rebirth had started with Virgil picking the white thorne apple flower in 10x13 What We Become, and was fulfilled with Rick's "resurrection" in TOWL 1x4 What We.

In 1x6 The Last Time, we see Rick utilize this new insight during Major General Beale's Echelon briefing:

"He brought me back".

The Apple iPhone with Carl's picture brought him back. Back to Michonne, back to his family, back to himself, back to life.

Just like how the thorn apple tea brought Virgil's family back to him, the Apple iPhone with Carl's picture brought Rick back to his family.

Then finally, we see the apple symbolism fulfilled one last time:

We see Michonne holding the Apple iPhone she originally found on Virgil's island, the one that convinced her that Rick could be alive, the one that prompted her to go out searching for him. We see this phone, with etchings of herself and Judith just as the apple symbolism comes full circle:

The final reunion, resurrection and rebirth!

[e10withadot]

To celebrate Delta Emulator's release on the Apple App Store, here's a link to every one of my skins so far:

TouchDS series

Supported devices: All iPhones.

Made for: Nintendo DS

Designed exclusively for touch-based DS games. Available in 4 colors. Includes a background blur effect that compliments the color.

Downloads: Black | White | Red | Blue

Ace Attorney series

Supported devices: All iPhones.

Made for: Nintendo DS

Designed for the Ace Attorney Trilogy and Apollo Justice on DS. Contains all necessary buttons, and a microphone button in the middle.

Download

Metroid skin series

Supported devices: All iPhones.

Made for: Game Boy Advance, Super Nintendo.

Includes special buttons for subweapon deployment and diagonal shooting. Designed to not cramp your hands with shoulder buttons.

Downloads: SNES | GBA

I plan to make more in due time! Let me know what type of skins y'all would like!

[kaiser1ns]

To the person whom i befriend when i started this blog, that pretended to be a 20 y/o university student and supposed "friend" , deactivated their tumblr on 15/02/2024 , blocked me in discord and tiktok, came back on 20/02/2024 and texted me and made excuses. To the person who made a new account on 21/02/2024 with their supposed real identity this time and followed me on 24/03/2024 wanting to be included into my series's taglist having the same profile picture like the specific 20 y/o on their discord. Coincidence? Absolutely not.

To the person who fooled everyone into thinking they can getaway with it, thinking that abandoning their friends from the old account will make them invisible or unsuspicious with the new one, what a joke. To the person who used the same memes, same layouts and aesthetics, liked the same artists and hating the exact same character like the "supposed 20 y/o uni student". Like the whole theme and style isn't familiar? The used line dividers, font, kaomjis, layout? It's too much to be only coincidence, so my intuition immediately said that something is going on. And the specific iphone screenshot with a star shape on the top left corner that just said it all. To the person who clearly doesn't care to hide anymore and maybe knows that we know who they are, I wish you nothing but to change because what you did was unbelievably disrespectful, but i always had one in mind about you so i wasn't that disappointed,there was something fishy from the start , but for the people who knew you more and they really thought of you and called you a friend — that was the biggest disappointment, the backstabbing and the cherry on top.

I just hope you stop this whole circus, but then again people like you love to put a mask on and play pretend, because that's the only thing you are good at.

[cityof2morrow]

OFB Props: Billboards 002

Published: 2-26-2024 | Updated: N/A SUMMARY “OFBProps is a series of posters, tags, area signs, and much more – all designed to help you better organize your commercial lots. The series is especially for those who play integrated economy themed saves with multiple farming and/or crafting mods. Sale! Sale! Sale!” Billboards 002 includes ten long horizontal billboards. The glass and metal are recolorable (1 recolor included) and all items are double-sided, hood visible, and low poly.

DETAILS Requires all EPs/SPs. §100 | Buy > Lighting > Wall Lighting Images are reposited to Long Billboard 001 (1024x256 image) and frames are linked to Horizontal Billboard 001  from the Billboard 001 set (Simmons, 2023) – these are REQUIRED for textures to display in-game. The largest billboards only shift downward. Recolors should be available on this site under the #ts2recolors and #co2recolors tags. ITEMS Long Horizontal Billboards 001-010 (92 poly) DOWNLOAD (choose one) BILLBOARDS 002 from SFS | from MEGA *included in the same collection file includes with Billboards 001

CREDITS Thanks: TS2 folks all around. Repository Wizard (WHoward aka @picknmixsims, 20024). Sources: Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), EA/Maxis, Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik), SimCity (iphone) (EA/Maxis, 2008), SimCity BuildIt (EA/Maxis, ), The Urbz (Xbox) (EA/Maxis, Griptonite Games, Glu Mobile, 2004).

[rpgsandbox]

The Laundry Roleplaying Game

The award-winning RPG of cosmic horror, tech-driven magic, and occult spycraft returns! Based on ‘The Laundry Files’ by Charles Stross.

Welcome to the Laundry! You’re one of the unlucky few standing between humanity and unspeakable - often unpronounceable - supernatural, alien, and interdimensional threats.

You’re a spy. Well, you are now, at least. Previously, you were someone who learned things humanity was not meant to know. Namely, that magic is real, it exists in the higher realms of mathematics, and it has some really messed up devotees. And if you know that much, then you’re not left with much of a choice — you work for the Laundry now. 

If you’re familiar with Charles Stross’ award-winning The Laundry Files series or the first edition of the award-winning Laundry RPG, you know all this already and can skip to looking at the books, the new award-winning game system, or just go ahead and pick a pledge level already. Just remember that everything here has won awards, ok? Lots of them.

If you are new to the Laundry, you are in for a treat – read on for the primer. You should also bear in mind the awards thing.

There are things out there, in the weirder reaches of space-time, where reality is an optional extra. Horrible things, sometimes with actual tentacles. Al-Hazred glimpsed them, John Dee summoned them, HP Lovecraft wrote about them, and Alan Turing mapped the paths from our universe to theirs. It turns out that mathematics really is magic, or at least that aspects of it describe, enable and power magic. And computing power supercharges it.

The right calculation can call up entities from other, older universes, or invoke their powers. Invisibility? Easy! Binding lesser demons to your will? Trivial! Opening up the way for the Great Old Ones to come through and eat our brains? Unfortunately, much too easy.

That’s where the Laundry comes in. It’s a branch of the British secret service tasked with preventing alien gods from wiping out all life on Earth, with a policy focus on the United Kingdom. You work for the Laundry. The hours are long, the pay is bad, and the bureaucracy is stifling, but unfortunately, you know too much to really have a choice in the matter.

There are some upsides – you get to play with all sorts of magically enhanced tech, from necronom-iPhones loaded with cutting-edge occult apps to basilisk guns that [REDACTED]. Plus, you’ve got a job for life, and possibly beyond (talk to Residual Human Resources to find out more).

You may even get to save the world. Just make sure you get a receipt.

Introducing the second edition of The Laundry Roleplaying Game — an exhilarating blend of covert action, investigation, and dark cosmic horror that thrusts you into the chaotic world of underfunded government employees battling to save the world from unspeakable threats.

Your daily grind includes myriad perilous tasks, from exorcising co-workers gone awry to thwarting ambitious computer students from triggering reality-bending catastrophes. Sneak into supercomputer servers, join SAS troops on dimension-hopping missions, halt outbreaks of blood-draining brain parasites, and prepare for the inevitable apocalypse of CASE NIGHTMARE GREEN.

The C7d6 System

This second edition of The Laundry Roleplaying Game employs the acclaimed C7d6 system, renowned for its versatility, speed, and flexibility.

To perform an action, roll a number of six-sided dice equal to your Attribute score plus any Training you have in the relevant field. So if you have Mind 3 and two levels of Training in the Occult Skill, you have a dice pool of 5d6. Roll the dice, and if any of them exceed the difficulty of the Task, congratulations — you’ve succeeded!

The difficulty may vary, but fear not! You have a plethora of Talents at your disposal, each designed to bolster your chances of success and turn the tides in your favour.

Small Scale to World Devouring

The game system is fast and accessible and ideal for when things get messy, the banishment rounds are flying, and creatures from another realm threaten to devour your office. The same rules apply whether you’re hacking into a computer, sneaking into an office block, or storming a building with a bunch of grizzled SAS troops.

Those rules work just as well when faced with mind-shattering horror and for higher-powered adventures when things start to get really strange in The Annihilation Score and beyond.

Who Do You Play?

Within the Laundry, there are countless departments filled with hundreds of overworked and underpaid employees — and you’re one of them. You might be an accountant, IT support, a driver, or something weirder, like a counterpossession exorcist, a computational demonologist, or one of the really odd people who dedicate their life to research and development. 

However, that’s just your day job. As part of your Active Duty, you’ll join other operatives and head out on a wide array of exciting (and deadly) missions.

What Do You Do?

There is no ‘typical’ when it comes to Laundry missions. You could be sent to the heart of London, Wolverhampton, or Milton Keynes. You may even be sent overseas, but you’ll have to be careful not to ruffle any feathers — the Black Chamber and the Thirteenth Directorate are quick to halt clandestine Laundry operations. While they might have the same job as you, they handle things very differently, and some refuse to believe that the Cold War is over. 

The world of the Laundry is under threat of incomprehensible cosmic horrors, and it’s up to you to save it.

Kickstarter campaign ends: Wed, May 1 2024 3:00 PM BST

Website: [Cubicle 7] [facebook] [twitter] [instagram]

[therealvinelle]

ok now I'm curious. if all the cullens turned into smartphones, which phones would they be? And bonus question, which phone would Eleazar turn into

...

You know I've received three asks on this? Only you included Eleazar, though.

Alice is the nebulous concept of an iPhone that hasn't come out yet. It doesn't matter how hip and with it everybody else tries to be, Alice's phone is newer.

Bella is an iPhone series 5 or later, which is to say she looks fragile and she is fragile. Drop her on a cushion and the entire screen shatters. Edward is constantly buying her screen protectors.

Carlisle is a Marconi wireless telegraph, a life-saving technology that no one would have thought possible if Marconi hadn't been mad and brilliant enough to do it. Carlisle, having saved human lives in unconvential ways since long before there were smartphones, can only be a Marconi wireless.

Edward is a Huawei. This makes him more indie and interesting than the Sony and Samsung android phones of the world, and the fact that the US has forbidden all Huawei from being purchased or used within country borders means that Edward can cry about being rejected by society. Because he's a monster.

Emmett is a phone booth, to account for his sheer size. The man is a hunk. Rosalie is into it, everybody else wonders how she's planning to lug this guy around.

Esme is a landline, because she stays in the home and is at the heart of the family.

Jasper is an android phone, because none of Alice's nebulous concept phones have a good camera, on account of them being iPhones. Jasper, therefore, is on the hook for photoshoots with Barbie Bella, events, and all such things. Additionally, he's pragmatic enough to want an android.

Renesmee is her voice, as her entire world consists of people who are always close by anyway. She has never needed a phone to get in touch.

Rosalie is a Nokia, because she strikes me as too pragmatic and stubborn to ever bend to the smartphone craze. They'll be out of fashion soon enough and when they are she will be able to say she never accepted any of the CandyCrush invites. As far as Rosalie is concerned, phones are for ringing.

Bonuss Eleazar:

He is the communal Denali phone where they have the phone numbers to the Cullens and a host of dating apps. That's it, that's all any of them will ever need.

[gaysheep]

Touching is Good: A Retrospective

My trusty Nintendo 3DS, which has held out since I was gifted it for my 15th birthday, has turned one decade old with my 25th birthday this past November. Given new life with custom firmware and nds-bootstrap via TWiLightMenu, the 3DS is stellar for visiting any past handheld title or console title up to (and somewhat including) the N64. (Quick plug for the CFW/hacking community for the less popular PS Vita, too, which has accomplished some pretty crazy-cool stuff this last year.) I use my 3DS more often than I use my Nintendo Switch most weeks.

The Nintendo DS (minus the three) launched in late 2004. The second display and stylus support were novel tools for developers to experiment with, and the NDS is best remembered for its robust catalogue of RPGs and visual novels. Where it lacked in power, narrative-focused games flourished under its technical limitations.

That being said, while browsing the ROM archives on Vimm's Lair to pick up some titles, I was reminded of what an interesting era the mid-to-late 2000s were for games. While Sony and Microsoft were fighting over the "core gamer" demographic, who had outgrown Nintendo mascots, Nintendo led a series of wildly successful marketing campaigns for its hardware after the light failure of the Gamecube, where the Nintendo DS and then the Wii were targeted at...everyone else.

[Image source. Image description in alt text.]

If you look at ads for the DS and the Wii, you'll see that adults are featured much more prominently than children, especially women and seniors. (This did not go unnoticed, as I found this ancient relic of misogyny while looking for images for this post.) A Nintendo handheld was already an easy sell to parents with small children (though I think it's also notable that ads which do focus on children often prominently feature girls. Munchlax is pretty hot...), but Nintendo's angle for the DS and Wii was that their hardware wasn't just for children. The Wii was a way to get up off the couch and to play board games with grandma. The DS was a great gadget for a working woman to keep in her pocketbook.

This worked. The Wii and DS were two of the best-selling consoles of all time. In particular, the DS's marketing campaign only worked because it came out in the perfect window of time. PDA-phone hybrids had been around since the 90s, and the Blackberry had been kicking around for a few years, but the iPhone wouldn't be introduced until 2007, and the 4G LTE standard wouldn't be released until 2009. While the Blackberry was popular with businesspeople and the PDA was out of style, smartphones were luxury toys for several years; they wouldn't become near-ubiquious until the mid-2010s. I didn't get my own smartphone until probably around the same time I got my 3DS, a full handheld generation later.

Browsing the software library for the Nintendo DS and DSi with that in mind is really interesting. Many titles released for the platform serve the same purposes that would be fulfilled by simple smartphone apps less than a decade later: planners and diaries, fitness trackers, calculators, language learning and SAT prep software, even a guide to the then-most-recent version of the driver's test in the UK. These proliferated with the release of the DSi's virtual store, but they existed even with the base model. You could go to a brick-and-mortar store and buy them on physical cartridges. (You might be wondering, "Why would you bother carrying those around over just buying a Blackberry?" You can't underestimate how expensive the service bills for a smartphone were before companies realized they were the most powerful spyware tool in history.)

There was never a time where every single businesswoman in New York carried a DS Lite, but adults did buy and use them, and a not insignificant portion of the DS's software library is aimed at a casual adult audience. Another niche covered mostly by smartphone games these days—games designed to be picked up and played in short sessions on-the-go, in places like waiting rooms and subway commutes.

Nintendo made crazy bank in the seventh console generation. Publications of the time talked about a console war between Sony, Microsoft, and Nintendo, but the real battle was between the PS3 and the Xbox 360 over the gamer demographic. Nintendo was producing hardware for a niche who would quietly disappear once smartphone sales began ballooning by hundreds of millions per year over the course of the early 2010s.

After the failure of the Wii U, Nintendo's marketing strategy pivoted again, though I doubt they'll ever completely abandon their family-friendly image. Currently beat out only by the PS2 and the DS, the Nintendo Switch may very well climb to a status as the best-selling console of all time before the end of its lifespan, but the "gamer" demographic is much bigger than it was two decades ago at the dawn of the DS. As more and more devices become consolidated into the Swiss army knife the smartphone has become, consoles can only carve out a role as dedicated gaming machines.

I'm not sure we'll ever see anything like the Nintendo DS or the Wii again. I think they're worth looking back on for their uniqueness in that way as much as they are for the more celebrated parts of their libraries.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

New SpaceTime out Wednesday....

SpaceTime 20231011 Series 26 Episode 122

Humans and other mammals will be gone in 250 million years.

A new study looking at how continental drift will change the face of the Earth into the future shows that the creation of the next super continent Pangea Ultima will probably cause humans and other mammals to become extinct – that’s assuming people haven’t already done so before then.

Strange mysterious planet like objects discovered in the Orion Nebula

New images from the James Webb Space Telescope have revealed strange planet-like structures in the Orion Nebula.

The link between Snowball Earth and complex life

A new study suggests massive volcanic activity during the interglacial period between the planet’s snowball Earth phase may have helped the evolution of early and complex life.

The Science Report

Earth’s near-surface permafrost could be gone by the turn of the century.

One in three people world wide now have high blood pressure. 

Discovery of the earliest known use of wood for construction.

Alex on Tech the new Pixel 8 and 8 pro and hot iphone 15s raise concerns.

SpaceTime covers the latest news in astronomy & space sciences.

The show is available every Monday, Wednesday and Friday through Apple Podcasts (itunes), Stitcher, Google Podcast, Pocketcasts, SoundCloud, Bitez.com, YouTube, your favourite podcast download provider, and from www.spacetimewithstuartgary.com

SpaceTime is also broadcast through the National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio and on both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

SpaceTime daily news blog: http://spacetimewithstuartgary.tumblr.com/

SpaceTime facebook: www.facebook.com/spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime Instagram @spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime twitter feed @stuartgary

SpaceTime YouTube: @SpaceTimewithStuartGary

SpaceTime -- A brief history

SpaceTime is Australia’s most popular and respected astronomy and space science news program – averaging over two million downloads every year. We’re also number five in the United States.  The show reports on the latest stories and discoveries making news in astronomy, space flight, and science.  SpaceTime features weekly interviews with leading Australian scientists about their research.  The show began life in 1995 as ‘StarStuff’ on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s (ABC) NewsRadio network.  Award winning investigative reporter Stuart Gary created the program during more than fifteen years as NewsRadio’s evening anchor and Science Editor.  Gary’s always loved science. He studied astronomy at university and was invited to undertake a PHD in astrophysics, but instead focused on his career in journalism and radio broadcasting. He worked as an announcer and music DJ in commercial radio, before becoming a journalist and eventually joining ABC News and Current Affairs. Later, Gary became part of the team that set up ABC NewsRadio and was one of its first presenters. When asked to put his science background to use, Gary developed StarStuff which he wrote, produced and hosted, consistently achieving 9 per cent of the national Australian radio audience based on the ABC’s Nielsen ratings survey figures for the five major Australian metro markets: Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide, and Perth.  The StarStuff podcast was published on line by ABC Science -- achieving over 1.3 million downloads annually.  However, after some 20 years, the show finally wrapped up in December 2015 following ABC funding cuts, and a redirection of available finances to increase sports and horse racing coverage.  Rather than continue with the ABC, Gary resigned so that he could keep the show going independently.  StarStuff was rebranded as “SpaceTime”, with the first episode being broadcast in February 2016.  Over the years, SpaceTime has grown, more than doubling its former ABC audience numbers and expanding to include new segments such as the Science Report -- which provides a wrap of general science news, weekly skeptical science features, special reports looking at the latest computer and technology news, and Skywatch – which provides a monthly guide to the night skies. The show is published three times weekly (every Monday, Wednesday and Friday) and available from the United States National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio, and through both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

[tommos]

one direction history post: strange merch

hi everyone! i'm starting a small series of one direction history posts just to combine my interests in both history and the boys. these won't be super in depth, more so showing and telling. this first post is about some weird and strange merch choices one direction's marketing team has attempted to sell us throughout the years. i got these screenshots from the wayback machine looking at onedirectionstore.com, their official store. they are separated by era solely based on what was present on their shop at the time of each of the boys albums. these merch items are not a reflection of the albums themselves (which you'd think their merch team would try to appeal more to the aging fanbase as years went on), they all seem to me to be more geared toward how much they can attempt to get us buy. i now present to you the weirdest, most dated one direction merch i could find <3 enjoy

X Factor - Up All Night

what is this for, who is this for, why is this one of the first accessory items ever posted on the one direction store??? what was the initial demographic of the one direction fanbase?? idk when i was 10 i didn't need this, i would enjoy one now though

if you guys remember silly bandz, you are a veteran.. also give us toledoans credit where it's due because one of ours invented these bad boys

finally my iphone 4 will be decked out in the one direction collectors set

this was also the start of their personalized messages section of merch you could buy. surprise your loved one with heartfelt messages such as 'birthday girl' or 'merry christmas daughter'

Take Me Home

from here on out, this and two other photos are the only photos their team decided to make merch with. there is two other duvet sets that use those other photos, even in their later eras

sometimes i wake up in a cold sweat remembering these existed. if i can find my louis mask, i will wear it to fitfwt

if any of you have this keyring or the singing toothbrush, send me a clip of it singing please or if it is able to sing. i am so curious im on the edge of my seat

NAIL TEMPORARY TATTOOS

Midnight Memories

i literally do not know what this has to do with music, one direction, or anyone associated with one direction

i need to point out, these one direction watches came in literally every single color you could imagine. i do not know why they are merched inside of a can?? but they were the it-girl of their merch during this era

speaking of cans, WHAT IS THIS

would any of you fine people want to buy a 1d girls glitter strap shoe? it is merch like this that really reminds me one direction was moreso a brand than a band to their team

Four

kudos to their team for picking a more recent photo for the era, but also who would want this

do you guys remember the craze of this specific type of lamp

if the scooter isn't your speed, how about this one direction 16" cruiser bike make with old uan era font, color schemes, and photos?

Made In The AM

i am only putting this mitam find in here to point out something that i found crazy. this shirt was on the one direction merch website only one month after march 25th, you can see how quickly their merch team shelled out merch without zayn on it. i didn't include anymore, but even their on the road again tour merch on the website quickly had zayn erased

i hope you guys all enjoyed this weird trip down memory lane if you can call it that, and liked looking at some of the weird merch their team used to sell. this is only stuff that stood out to me, i'm sure there's a lot more somewhere so if you have any, send them to me or feel free to add onto this post. if you own any of these, ESPECIALLY THE BIKE, please add a pic of them to this post lol

[featherquillpen]

Animorphs Early Series Fic Recs

Some folks on the podfic Discord server are reading the series for the first time, and they want to dip their toes into fic without spoilers. So I'm helping them out by putting together these fics, which have no spoilers beyond the first ten books.

The Yeerk and the Gedd: A Natural History by Nate the Ape

Some speculative xenobiology about how Yeerks evolved. Very interesting to think about.

Home for Dinner and Weekends by HotPinkCoffee

Pre-canon fic about Marco's mom and how she became infested. It's devastating, and a wonderful POV from one of my favorite minor characters.

The Class by FreakApple

In which Chapman teaches the Animorphs sex ed. Yes, the Animorphs learn about STIs and condoms from a Yeerk, and they don't handle it well. It's very funny.

Break Time by Desdemon

A modern AU, in which Ax learns how to use an iPhone. Light 'n' fluffy.

One Hour by Derin

Devastating fic focused on an original character: a voluntary Controller who's started to have some regrets about his choices.

All the Light We Cannot See by Zelos

Cassie and Jake go on a date, and Jake helps Cassie with some of her insecurities. Cute 'n' fluffy.

Millennimorphs by dragonmorph

An AU in which the events of Animorphs take place later, when the kids are 30. Covers the first two books in the series. Really interesting updates to include surveillance capitalism, etc.

Five of Your Seconds by dragonmorph

A fun awkward Ax/Marco fic set in book 6 while Jake is suffering The Agonies in the shed.

And if I may rec a few of my own fics that fit the theme:

Home(work)

In which Tobias tries to reclaim a sense of normality in his weird hawk life by helping Jake with his homework.

Five Things That Never Happened to Marco (and one that did)

A short AU that asks, "What if Marco's dad got so depressed after his wife's 'death' that he committed suicide?" Big CWs. Bring tissues.

Five Things That Never Happened to Melissa (and one that did)

A short AU that asks, "What if Melissa Chapman had been at the construction site?"

Sancho Panza

An AU that asks, "What if Marco were already a Controller at the time he went to the construction site?"

[the-monkey-ruler]

Bloons TD 6 (2018)

Platform: Mac / PC / iPhone / iPad / Android Developer: Ninja Kiwi Publisher: Ninja Kiwi Genre: Strategy / Theme Fantasy: Modern Military Franchises: Bloons / Bloons TD Type: Appropriation

Summary:

First released for iOS and Android on June 13, 2018, Bloons TD 6 is the sixth main entry in the Bloons TD series, a tower defense spin-off to the Bloons series of puzzle games. Unlike previous entries into the series, which were developed for Adobe Flash, TD 6 was built with Unity. Bloons TD 6 features a number of other differences relative to previous entries in the series, including polygonal 3D graphics, completely reworked tower upgrades and control schemes, and a new leveling progression system centered around "Monkey Knowledge".

Since launch, the game has received a PC release through Steam, co-op support, new towers, and several time-limited event modes.

Source: https://www.giantbomb.com/bloons-td-6/3030-68981/

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=WOWAnBXFGcU