#mouse ponders

[mousewithabowtie]

I'm not sure if this means anything, but the cover page for the book this fellow is reading on the train in "Dithyramb" (the poem "The Waste Land" by T. S. Eliot)

looks very similar to the tree from Ivy's dream sequence in "Nightmare"!

I wonder if it's a deliberate reference, and if so, why this specific poem?

[artistdove]

Epic Mickey doodles

[lunarmoves]

i think we all just have a thing for characters that are immensely powerful (and/or traumatized) and have a soft spot for us. also inhuman....and big.

yyyeah. yeah. yep. you are completely right. massive inhuman being that has only ever known immense power and as such cannot comprehend the vulnerability of someone who is... not. who must learn how to be gentle and careful--a contrast from how they have behaved all their life. and it frightens them, to their horror, for they have never been frightened before. who would be ruined by small acts of softness and care, a weakness they never knew they had....

[zombified-hoglin]

Awkward road trip between Xisuma and Etho

They're in Xisuma's shitty old truck, gear in the bed and rooftop tent set up over it

It's not that they're not friends or get along, but it's definitely an experience to sit couped up in a small cab with someone for extended periods of time

They're driving to go visit Ren and a few more of their mutual friends, it's cheaper (albeit slower) to carpool like this instead of flying

There's definitely hints of something going on between them but they've never actually talked about it

Etho is having fun trying to navigate and sightsee, forced to sit shotgun the entire time because he never learned stick and isn't about to now

Xisuma's just happy that Etho hasn't gotten car sick yet, that and it's nice being able to spend time together even if a road trip isn't horribly exciting

The last night before they get to Ren's, they set up the tent in a national park type thing a couple hours away

The stars have never been brighter

It's nice quietly talking about everything and nothing at the same time, to hear the soft chirping from crickets the crackling of a fire

It's colder than expected that night but Etho has already accepted his fate as Xisuma's personal heater

[orb-the-watchman]

Time sensitive question do any of you know how to move one mouse from inside of your house to outside of your house

[zombiequeenblog]

Hi!

My thoughts are cast back to the beginning.

We have such a different dynamic now between the Cardinal and Mouse - they are very much in love, everyone knows, and they have a mutual understanding what each other needs physically.

But I’m curious about the events leading up to their very first encounter. How long was he watching her? Did he have any romantic thoughts or desire for a relationship? What did he expect to be the outcome of his actions?

He could have just cast her aside, and hoped she didn’t tell anyone. Which, I know I’m looking into this far too deeply lol but I can’t help but be fascinated by then and now. Such a brutal beginning, I think he should be counting his lucky stars.

You're exactly right, a lot has changed for sure! When I wrote Darker Down Below, I hadn't planned to expand it into anything more, so I really have to think about what may have happened previous.

I would say he was probably watching her for longer than she realized. Probably attracted to her looks and mannerisms, and spurred on by her vulnerability. Hoping she might match him in a way he would prefer, even though I think he only let himself dare to expect a satisfying conquest of her body at first.

The romantic thoughts came later, when he first tried to kiss her softly against that tree in Back To Haunt Me. She turns her face away, so he humiliates her, and leaves her, probably to clear his head within that dark forest.

But he comes back, and restores her; leads her back to the abbey. And she doesn't beg him to stop what he's been doing when he asks her directly. Later, when she gets her wrists free, she kisses him herself. Maybe that action had been on her mind since the forest.

I think they're both conflicted, each finding themselves yearning to love the other and yet held back. Copia isn't sure he could inspire such love in another, and Mouse fears surrendering to such a dark passion. It can be easy to hide one's true feelings inside all the depravity, and sometimes they are not even clearly apparent to their bearers right away. But somehow, the two of them manage to come together, slowly entwining in each other in a way that could never come undone. At least that is what I am trying to convey in my quite pathetic writings lol

But yes, after that first time, I think he assured himself that he'd terrorized her into silence. But he's struck by her, and soon must admit to himself that he could never simply cast her aside; she completes him in a way he never thought possible. I believe he does count his lucky stars, and is grateful to the Fallen One every night for his own little Mouse, shining so brightly within his darkness.

[mausdotpng]

i know what you are.

[residentdormouse]

Positively Pleasant ‘P’ Words Tag Game

Upon predicting the password to procure the pined after prose, I’m pondering the paradoxical feeling of pride and perturbation. Perhaps this puzzlement proves the philosophical predicament of whether perpetually pushing for pleasurable pursuits only pollutes our ability to perceive the peace provided from our passing progress. Maybe proportional precaution is needed to prolong preoccupation before its purpose pales against the prize.

(AKA, I found the word, but now there’s no other side quests to focus on. 😂)

My words: Past, Power, Present, Pull, Print

Your Words: Quick, Quiet, Quirky, Quaint, Quote

(@mrsmungus - Apologies if there are goose eggs; I tried to pick ones I could find myself, but it’s ‘q’ - we knew this time would come.)

Past

“I don’t understand. He’s smart, and funny, and has so much potential… Why is he making choices to sabotage himself, and… I just… ” she let out a frustrated shout, unable to put the rest of her thoughts to the adequate words.

They walked for a bit longer in silence until Nick stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. He pulled back out his pad and wrote out another note, slower, more thought put into this message.

‘The world isn’t kind. You fight back against it or blend in until it becomes who you are too.’

She nodded with a sigh. The idea was insightful, and she couldn’t argue with it; it actually made a lot of sense the more she mulled it over. Harold had many times made the comment about his past, how he had been regarded, his treatment from peers and even family. Maybe that was who he became now too, but she truly hoped not.

Power

Further dream discussion took off. Were there drugs that could help? Could there be a way to block this? There were no answers, only another point nobody had touched yet, one which Glen felt a need to chime in on: did they want to?

"It seems to me, we're getting set up in a tug of war. Whether it's good vs evil, judgment day, powers higher than us playing a game, who's to say… What is clear to me: there's a protagonist and an antagonist forming, and these dreams, they’re giving us background. We take that away… well then, we're just opting to play the game blindfolded. Now, can’t speak for any of you, but personally I'd like to read the premise before making moves. Maybe, I don't know, maybe there’s something useful buried there."

Harold scoffed at the idea. "So you're saying what? Our dreams are relaying vital information so we can, what, fight for God or the Devil?"

"I'm saying I don't know. But I’d like to.” Harold scrunched up his face, still not giving it any real consideration. Glen took a couple more puffs from his vape, and pressed on with a light chuckle, "I think I know what your problem is, Harold."

"Glen…" Stu tried to give a warning to not poke the bear. Glen never knew how to listen to that instinct however.

Present

(Possible gore tag, but I had to. It not only has Present, but Past and Pull too.)

Maybe Hayden did have a history in medicine; as she stated, there was no way to know. But to do an invasive surgery without even remembering those past experiences? That wasn’t even touching the fact there was only a small possibility it was there in the first place.

That was just the basic facts. The little things, the barely visible shimmer of light in the cavity, the way muscles and skin seemed to move away or pull together on their own milliseconds before Hayden’s hands got there, how these events coincided with a distinct drain to her... If he wasn’t already looking for irregular things, these would have been dismissed. Tricks of light. But they were too far into the unknown to turn back now, and his eyes were open.

He wanted to ask her about everything. Not necessarily the past; she would only give him the same sad smile and shrug as she always did. But her thoughts at the time… Did she see what he did? Did she know?

The ordeal was clearly taxing on her, so he was fine to leave it on the back burner for now, but he couldn’t unsee what he saw. By the tree earlier, she wasn’t completely present. His mind equated it to a dimmer switch and she was set to low. If she wasn’t actively on his mind, he would have completely overlooked her sitting there. The differences between the girl he met on the trail that first day, and the one sitting by that tree; he couldn't explain it, but he would certainly not forget it.

No, she was a puzzle with too many missing pieces, but he was good at filling in blanks.

Pull

(I had a decent excerpt from earlier in Chapter 9 - one of my personal favorites for reasons - but then I went down a little further and noticed there are FOUR uses of Pull in this Harold dream. FOUR! I feel I need to now post this in shame for my lack of variance.)

Harold pushed himself up off the pavement. Blood lingered in his mouth, and he spit it off to the side of the road. The asshole with a beard threw a punch, but Harold felt a pull backwards.

Beard tried to steady himself as a gun appeared in Harold's hand. He held it up and pulled the trigger. One threat down. Scruffy douche bag to his right was an easy target. Another neutralized. One more to go.

A shot rang in his ears, but it missed by a mile. He spun and quickly pulled the trigger on the third assailant; three for three.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

Harold nodded. Moving to hand the gun back to Flagg, he noticed the man's expression had changed, eyes adopting a red glow and his smile widening. His hand now moved over Harold’s own, taking aim for him. The movement was quick, fluid, and when the dark man pulled back, Harold’s aim was now set on Redman. "Keep it."

Looking back one last time, Harold could now longer see the denim clad figure, but he could still hear his voice. "You may find a use for it."

Harold went to tighten his grip on the item, but his hand closed further into a fist. The gun was gone, but as he slowly relinquished his grasp, a black stone with an unnatural shine revealed itself in his palm. A real smile found its way onto Harold’s face.

Print

(I was decently worried about this one. There are only two times this has showed up, and one was literally the last section of Spiral, so guess this is all I got…)

Sitting at the desk, she made herself comfortable and grabbed a pen. Nobody could really miss one blank book in a cottage full of hundreds, and she felt like doodling. But this one was not longer blank. Quickly scanning the pages, she noticed it was all observations she had. Specifically about Glen.

When she closed the book and turned it over, she noticed his name beautifully written along the spine. Standing in a rush, she began to scan the room again. Another book lay next to Glen's; 'Stuart Redman' was written in bright lettering.

She backed away and noticed the previously blank canvas on the wall was now an acrylic painting of Kojak; the signature H.F. was printed in the bottom corner. Another hastily done paper sketch of her, Glen, and Kojak was pinned next to it.

Turning to her left, she stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed the dark painting sitting on the floor by the door. Blacks, grays, and two bright red eyes. 'Flagg' scrawled across the bottom in blood red calligraphy.

[asta-daily]

Free cheese

Miss Moustache is confused by the sign. "Free" as in "Free cheese for you" of "Free the cheese"? Or is it "Cheese that is free of something and free for you"? She wants this cheese, it's there, right in front of her. Nothing's free, she whispers, I don't want to be the product. Anyway… I can't read.

/* Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook - Porte-mine sur carnet A6 */

Miss Moustaches est confuse par le panneau. "Gratuit" comme dans "Fromage gratuit pour vous" ou dans "Fromage gratuit de quelque chose" ? A moins que ce ne soit "Fromage gratuit de quelque chose et gratuit pour vous" ? Elle veut ce fromage qui traîne juste là, devant elle. Mais rien n'est gratuit chuchote-elle, je ne veux pas être le produit. De toute manière je sais pas lire.

[mormonmouse]

Mormon Mouse Memes - r/exmormon Reddit 3-Pack

A collection of three memes posted to r/exmormon Reddit in May and June of this year. I hope these each inspire their own posts here at some point, but for now, here they are – three in a row: High on the mountain top, our banner is unfurled, Ye nations now wake up, we’re taking o’er the world! With Deseret’s industrious brands, We’ve nearly spread throughout all lands, That no unhallowed…

[thrushppelt]

I’ve been thinking soooooo often abt Shardstar having a sister (unbeknownst) who happened to be a kittypet

[konigsblog]

HC that kidnapper!Konig loves to spike your food with aphrodisiacs so his twisted mind can delulu himself into thinking that you love and desire him as much as he desires you 💦❤️

TW: INTOXICATION, NON-CON/DUB-CON. MDNI 18+

Kidnapper-König has to reassure himself that what he's doing isn't as sick and twisted as people claim it is. He can't live with the guilt, shame, and horror that comes with his immorality and sickening actions, how overly controlling and possessive he is. The guilt weighs heavily on his shoulders, churning his stomach at the thought of the repercussions. He wants you to adore him, to convince himself that you're head over heels with him — obsessed with him just like he is with you. Dote on him, little mouse. Please.

He'll lace your food with aphrodisiacs so that you'll cling to him, plead with him to relieve that worsening pain between your thighs. If you're desperately crawling after him, desperate to mate with the sicko, then you love him! He can't live with the thought that you don't love him. He's determined for you to initiate, for you to crave him.

You'll barely remember what happened the next day, only the growing and intensifying ache between your legs will leave you pondering on what König had done to your intoxicated, numb body the night before.

[solisaureus]

notes from a lab meeting where we pondered why a lab mouse had mysteriously died

[zombified-hoglin]

Au where everything is the same except Xisuma is a fox hybrid and Etho is an ender dragon hybrid

It's definitely harder to tell Xisuma is a fox hybrid unless he has his armor off, his ears being flattened by his helmet and he can shove his tail under his pants if he's not in the mood to deal with it, though he definitely has the fox traits for wanting to bite things and pouncing

He usually joins Etho while the dragon hybrid is taking a nap in a sunny spot on the server, enjoying the warmth and the other's presence, definitely not tucking himself into Etho's side, no way

Etho's still pretty much the same, but it's interesting seeing his eyes slit when he sees something especially interesting or how his wings are somewhat spread out, like he knows exactly where he is and how much space he takes up (but like confidently)

Xisuma pretty much acts like a heater so he's nice to lay against when the sun is gone and Etho wants company

[damienkarras73]

An essay on Furiosa, the politics of the Wasteland, Arthurian literature and realistic vs. formalistic CGI

Mad Max: Fury Road absolutely enraptured me when it came out nearly a decade ago, and I will cop to seeing it four times at the theatre. For me (and many others who saw the light of George Miller) it set new standards for action filmmaking, storytelling and worldbuilding, and I could pop in its Blu Ray at any time and never get tired of it. Perhaps not surprisingly, I was deeply apprehensive about the announced prequel for Fury Road's actual main character, Furiosa, even if Miller was still writing and directing. We didn't need backstory for Furiosa—hell, Fury Road is told in such a way that NOTHING in it requires explicit backstory. And since it focuses on the Yung Furiosa, it meant Charlize Theron couldn't return with another career-defining performance. Plus, look at all that CGI in the trailer, it can't be as good as Fury Road.

Turns out I was silly to doubt George Miller, M.D., A.O., writer and director of Babe: Pig in the City and Happy Feet One & Two.

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga is excellent, and I needn't have worried about it not being as good as Fury Road because it is not remotely trying to be Fury Road. Fury Road is a lean, mean machine with no fat on it, nothing extraneous, operating with constant forward momentum and only occasionally letting up to let you breathe a little; Furiosa is a classical epic, sprawling in scope, scale and structure, and more than happy to let the audience simmer in a quiet, almost painfully still moment. If its opening spoken word sequence by that Gandalf of the Wastes himself, the First History Man, didn't already clue you in, it unfolds like something out of myth, a tale told over and over again and whose possible embellishments are called attention to in the dialogue itself. Where Fury Road scratched the action nerd itch in my head like you wouldn't believe, Furiosa was the equivalent of Miller giving the undulating folds of my English major brain a deep tissue massage. That's great! I, for one, love when sequels/prequels endeavour to be fundamentally different movies from what they're succeeding/preceding, operating in different modes, formats and even genres, and more filmmakers should aim for it when building on an existing series.

This movie has been on my mind so much in the past week that I've ended up dedicating several cognitive processes to keeping track of all of the different ponderings it's spawned. Thankfully, Furiosa is divided into chapters (fun fact: putting chapter cards in your movie is a quick way to my heart), so it only seems fitting that I break up all of these cascading thoughts accordingly.

1. The Pole of Inaccessibility

Furiosa herself actually isn't the protagonist for the first chapter of her own movie, instead occupying the role of a (very crafty and resourceful) damsel in distress for those initial 30-40 minutes. The real hero of the opening act, which plays out like a game of cat and mouse, is Furiosa's mother Mary Jabassa, who rides out into the wasteland first on horseback and then astride a motorcycle to track down the band of raiders that has stolen away her daughter. Mary's brought to life by Miller and Nico Lathouris' economical writing and a magnetic performance by newcomer Charlee Fraser, who radiates so much screen presence in such relatively little time and with one of those instant "who is SHE??" faces. She doesn't have many lines, but who needs them when Fraser can convey volumes about Mary with just a flash of her eyes or the effortless way she swaps out one of her motorcycle's wheels for another. To be quite candid, I'm not sure of the last time I fell in love with a character so quickly.

You notice a neat aesthetic contrast between mother and daughter in retrospect: Mary Jabassa darts into the desert barefoot, clad in a simple yet elegant dress, her wolf cut immaculate, only briefly disguising herself with the ugly armour of a raider she just sniped, and when she attacks it's almost with grace, like some Greek goddess set loose in the post-apocalyptic Aussie outback with just her wits and a bolt-action rifle; we track Furiosa's growth over the years by how much of her initially conventional beauty she has shed, quite literally in one case (hair buzzed, severed arm augmented with a chunky mechanical prosthesis, smeared in grease and dirt from head to toe, growling her lines at a lower octave), and by how she loses her mother's graceful approach to movement and violence, eventually carrying herself like a blunt instrument. Yet I have zero doubt the former raised the latter, both angels of different feathers but with the same steel and resolve. Of fucking course this woman is Furiosa's mother, and in the short time we know her we quickly understand exactly why Furiosa has the drive and morals she does without needing to resort to didactic exposition.

Anyway, I was tearing up by the end of the first chapter. Great start!

2. Lessons from the Wasteland

Most movies—most stories, really—don't actually tell the entire narrative from A to Z. Perhaps the real meat of the thing is found from H to T, and A-G or U-Z are unnecessary for conveying the key narrative and themes. So many prequels fail by insisting on telling the A-G part of the story, explaining how the hero earned a certain nickname or met their memorable sidekick—but if that stuff was actually interesting, they likely would have included it in the original work. The greatest thing a prequel can actually do is recontextualize, putting iconic characters or moments in a new light, allowing you to appreciate them from a different angle. All of season 2 of Fargo serves to explain why Molly Solverson's dad is appropriately wary when Lorne Malvo enters his diner for a SINGLE SCENE in the show's first season. David's arc from the Alien prequels Prometheus and Covenant—polarizing as those entries are—adds another layer to why Ash is so protective of the creature in the first movie. Andor gives you a sense of what it's like for a normal, non-Jedi person to live under the boot of the Empire and why so many of them would join up with the Rebel Alliance—or why they would desire to wear that boot, or even just crave the chance to lick it.

Furiosa is one of those rare great prequels because it makes us take a step back and consider the established world with a little more nuance, even if it's still all so absurd. In Fury Road, Immortan Joe is an awesome, endlessly quotable villain, completely irredeemable, and basically a cartoon. He works perfectly as the antagonist of that breakneck, Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote-ass movie, but if you step outside of its adrenaline-pumping narrative for even a moment you risk questioning why nobody in the Citadel or its surrounding settlements has risen up against him before. Hell, why would Furiosa even work for him to begin with? But then you see Dementus and company tear-assing around the wasteland, seizing settlements and running them into the ground, and you realize Joe and his consortium offer something that Dementus reasonably can't: stability—granted, an unwavering, unchangeable stability weighted in favour of Joe's own brutal caste system, but stability nonetheless. It really makes you wonder, how badly does a guy have to suck to make IMMORTAN JOE of all people look like a sane, competent and reasonable ruler by comparison?!?

…and then they open the door to the vault where he keeps his wives, and in a flash you're reminded just how awful Joe is and why Furiosa will risk her life to help some of these women flee from him years later. This new context enriches Joe and makes it more believable that he could maintain power for so long, but it doesn't make him any less of a monster, and it says a lot about Furiosa's hate for Dementus that she could grit her teeth and work for this sick old tyrant.

3. The Stowaway

Here's another wild bit of trivia about this movie: you don't actually see top-billed actress Anya Taylor-Joy pop up on screen until roughly halfway through, once Furiosa is in her late teens/early twenties. Up until this point she's been played by Alyla Browne, who through the use of some seamless and honestly really impressive CGI has been given Anya's distinctive bug eyes [complimentary]. It's one of those bold choices that really works because Miller commits to it so hard, though it does make me wish Browne's name was up on the poster next to Taylor-Joy's.

Speaking of CGI, I should talk about what seems to be a sticking point for quite a few people: if there's been one consistent criticism of Furiosa so far, it's that it doesn't look nearly as practical or grounded as Fury Road, with more obvious greenscreen and compositing, and what previously would've been physical stunt performers and pyrotechnics have been replaced with their digital equivalents for many shots. Simply put, it doesn't look as real! For a lot of people, that practicality was one of Fury Road's primary draws, so I won't try to quibble if they're let down by Furiosa's overt artificiality, but to be honest I'm actually quite fine with it. It helps that this visual discrepancy doesn't sneak up on you but is incredibly apparent right from the aerial zoom-down into Australia in the very first scene, so I didn't feel misled or duped.

Fury Road never asks you to suspend your disbelief because it all looks so believable; Furiosa jovially prods you to suspend that disbelief from the get-go and tune into it on a different wavelength. It's a classical epic, and like the classical epics of the 1950s and 60s it has a lot of actors standing in front of what clearly are matte paintings. It feels right! We're not watching fact, we're watching myth. I'm willing to concede there might be a little bit of post-hoc rationalization on my part because I simply love this movie so much, but I'm not holding the effects in Furiosa to the same standard as those in Fury Road because I simply don't believe Miller and his crew are attempting to replicate that approach. Without the extensive CGI, we don't get that impressive long, panning take where a stranded Furiosa scans the empty, dust-and-sun-scoured wasteland (75% Sergio Leone, 25% Andrei Tarkovsky), or the Octoboss and his parasailing goons. For the sake of intellectual exercise I did try imagining them filming the Octoboss/war rig sequence with the same immersive practical approach they used for Fury Road's stunts, however I just kept picturing dead stunt performers, so perhaps the tradeoff was worth it!

4. Homeward

Around the same time we meet the Taylor-Joy-pilled Furiosa in Chapter 3, we're introduced to Praetorian Jack, the chief driver for the convoys running between the Citadel and its allied settlements. Jack's played by Tom Burke, who pulled off a very good Orson Welles in Mank! and who I should really check out in The Souvenir one of these days. He's also a cool dude! Here are some facts about Praetorian Jack:

He's decked out in road leathers with a pauldron stitched to one shoulder

He's stoic and wary, but still more or less personable and can carry on a conversation

Professes to a certain cynicism, to quote Special Agent Albert Rosenfield, but ultimately has a capacity for kindness and will do the right thing

Shoots a gun real good

Can drive like nobody's business

So in other words, Jack is Mad Max. But also, no, he clearly isn't! He looks and dresses like Mad Max (particularly Mel Gibson's) and does a lot of the same things "Mad" Max Rockatansky does, but he's also very explicitly a distinct character. It's a choice that seems inexplicable and perhaps even lazy on its face, except this is a George Miller movie, so of course this parallel is extremely purposeful. Miller has gone on record saying he avoids any kind of strict chronology or continuity for his Mad Max movies, compared to the rigid canons for Star Trek and Star Wars, and bless him for doing so. It's more fun viewing each Mad Max entry as a new revision or elaboration on a story being told again and again generations after the fall, mutating in style, structure and focus with every iteration, becoming less grounded as its core narrative is passed from elder to youth, community to community, genre to genre, until it becomes myth. (At least, my English major brain thinks it's more fun.) In fact there's actually something Arthurian to it, where at first King Arthur was mentioned in several Welsh legends before Geoffrey of Monmouth crafted an actual narrative around him, then Chrétien de Troyes added elements like Lancelot and infused the stories with more romance, and then with Le Morte d'Arthur Thomas Malory whipped the whole cycle together into one volume, which T.H. White would chop and screw and deconstruct with The Once and Future King centuries later.

All this to say: maybe Praetorian Jack looks and sounds and acts like Max because he sorta kinda basically is, being just one of many men driving back and forth across the wasteland, lending a hand on occasion, who'll be conflated into a single, legendary "Mad Max" at some point down the line in a different History Man's retelling of Furiosa's odyssey. Sometimes that Max rips across the desert in his V8 Interceptor, other times driving a big rig. Perhaps there's a dog tagging along and/or a scraggly and at first aggravating ally played by Bruce Spence or Nicholas Hoult. Usually he has a shotgun. But so long as you aren't trying to kill him, he'll help you out.

5. Beyond Vengeance

The Mad Max movies have incredibly iconic villains—Immortan Joe! Toecutter! the Lord Humongous!—but they are exactly that, capital V Villains devoid of humanizing qualities who you can't wait to watch bad things happen to. Furiosa appears to continue this trend by giving us a villain who in fact has a mustache long enough that he could reasonably twirl it if he so wanted, but ironically Dementus ends up being the most layered antagonist in the entire series, even moreso than the late Tina Turner's comparatively benevolent Aunty Entity from Beyond Thunderdome. And because he's played by Chris Hemsworth, whose comedic delivery rivals his stupidly handsome looks, you lock in every time he's on screen.

Something so fascinating about Dementus is that, for a main antagonist, he's NOT all-powerful, and in fact quite the opposite: he's more conman than warlord, looking for the next hustle, the next gullible crowd he can preach to and dupe—though never for long. For all his bluster, at every turn he finds himself in way over his head and writing cheques he can't cash, and this self-induced Sisyphean torment makes him riveting to watch. You're tempted to pity Dementus but it's also quite difficult to spare sympathy for someone who's so quick to channel their rage and hurt and ego into thoughtless, burn-it-all-down destruction. When you're not laughing at him, you're hating his guts, and it's indisputably the best work of Chris Hemsworth's career.

It's in this final chapter that everything naturally comes to a head: Furiosa's final evolution into the character we meet at the start of Fury Road, the predictable toppling of Dementus' precariously built house of cards, and the mythmaking that has been teased since the very first scene becoming diagetic text, the last of which allows the movie to thoroughly explore the themes of vengeance it's been building to. A brief war begins, is summarized and is over in the span of roughly a minute, and on its face it's a baffling narrative choice that most other filmmakers would have botched. But our man Miller's smart enough to recognize that the result of this war is the most foregone of conclusions if you've been paying even the slightest bit of attention, so he effectively brushes past it to get to the emotional heart of the climax and an incredible "Oh shit!" payoff that cements Miller as one of mainstream cinema's greatest sickos.

Fury Road remains the greatest Mad Max film, but Furiosa might be the best thing George Miller has ever made. If not his magnum opus, it does at least feel like his dissertation, and it makes me wish Warner Bros. puts enough trust in him despite Furiosa's poor box office performance that he's able to make The Wasteland. Absolutely ridiculous that a man just short of his 80th birthday was able to pull this off, and with it I feel confident calling him one of my favourite directors.

[mygnolia]

A HUNDRED HIDDEN KISSES | s. jaeyun

୨୧ -› so, the story goes that you’re supposed to feud with Sim Jaeyun, with his perfectly handsome face, his foreign exchange student accent, or his flirty remarks. but the story has a plot twist; somewhere along the way, you fell for his winks and charm.

pair -› (BLONDE.) soccer player!jake x top student!fmr | trope -› one sided enemies to lovers | wc -› 1.7k | cw -› kissing but idk how to write two ppl kissing oops anyways downbad HORRENDOUSLY down bad jake here | library

the weird thing about a crush is, it happens unexpectedly. 

maybe not so unexpected- because your heart has an attraction to the lamest soccer player on the team before your head even tolerated him. you hated sim jaeyun and you swore you did- but maybe you didn’t swear hard enough, because at some point, you could see your sense of rational floating above your head before it pops like a bubble and disappears into thin air. 

see- you’re supposed to hate sim jake. he’s obnoxious and loud and always says ‘no’ in the accent that makes it incredibly clear that it’s him (and only him) who’s said it. and not just that- he’s become best friends with sunghoon in an instant. park sunghoon, aka, your study buddy since beginning of high school. so yeah- maybe you hate that sunghoon has started hanging out with jake more and you swear you always catch the new exchange student looking in your direction whenever he’s with sunghoon. he definitely talks about you, but sunghoon is as quiet as a mouse when you two study for exams- which is infuriating, and so unlike him. but there’s another huge huge problem. 

jake is probably the prettiest boy you’ve met in your life. 

he came to the school with shorter hair, but sunghoon’s ability to change someone’s entire look is blessed by the gods- and sunghoon himself was kissed by eternal beauty, so of course, when they started hanging out, you noticed the change in clothes to be more baggy, his walk to be much more confident, his grin to be sly, and his hair to be so much cuter when styled. you were royally fucked from the day you saw jake wave in your direction when he entered class, with a confident smile that you weren’t sure he only showed to you. 

and that made you all the more irritated with him. “I am not going to teach him anything, hoon.” you state firmly. “he’s like- the most annoying younger brother you could ever ask for.” and there’s a worrying look that flashes in the boy’s eye, leaving you confused and pondering on the way home. “why don’t you teach him art history?” 

“we goof around too much.” and you roll your eyes at his lame excuse. 

and yet another problem arises. see, park sunghoon knew much more than you did when it came to jake. he knew that he played soccer in his backyard before heading to school, that his dog was a border collie, and that sim jake had a crush on you- aka- the most unavailable girl ever, who’s never dated anyone, thinks boys (especially boys who play sports) are stupid, and has a hatred for jake and only him. so sunghoon thinks his friend is utterly hopeless, and wants to tell him to give up, but when sunghoon hears how the boy raves about you and how pretty you looked in class today, he smacks jake on the arm and whines to him about shutting up and to stop being a loser. 

“do you think she’ll like it if i dyed my hair blonde?” 

sunghoon sighs, “you could dye your hair any color and she’d still want to cut it off.”

jake blinks. “but blondes are hot, right?”

and that’s how he shows up the next day, making you shrink in your seat from just how much better he looks and how much more annoying that makes him. 

jake has heard about the guys you’ve rejected for liking you because they’re shallow. and jake sees how you scowl at him- but he’s determined to make you his girlfriend, so once again, he tells you good morning with that accent of his and that grin on him, and you mumble a good morning back, wondering why the hell he’s always trying to talk to you. maybe he still wants you to tutor him for art history. maybe that’s why he intercepts you on the way out of the school gates with heavy breathing after running across campus.

“please- stay after practice.” he begs you, and you recognize a fresh ocean scent that compliments his bubbly personality with how he’s run up to you and leans down to make eye contact. and there’s only one thought in your head, one that manifests into stupid words that stupid and now blonde sim jaeyun hears. 

“you’re so pretty.” and you think if an alien ufo were to suck you up into space and carry you away from the pit of shame and embarrassment you’ve carved out for yourself, you would embrace extraterrestrial life without hesitation if it meant getting away from him. “fuck, sorry, i didn’t mean to say that.” 

and fuck, his laugh his so cute when you hear it, so much so that it momentarily distracts you from the blaring truth that his efforts to look good for you have paid off. “you think i’m pretty?” 

“pretty stupid.” and you try to say it with malice, but it comes out small and he knows you mean none of it. “i’ll be waiting with sunghoon on the bleachers.” 

yeah- it’s safe to say that jake has never scored that many times against his goalie in his entire life. but his excitement is infectious, and when sunghoon sneaks out of the sitting area to meet his friend during a break, the latter knows something is up. “she called me pretty, hoon. like, she actually meant it.”

“are you sure?” 

“and then she said i was pretty stupid, but liste-ow! what the hell?” he stops himself when he gets yet another smack from sunghoon- except this time, his friend’s eyes are shining. 

“no way. she meant it?” and jake nods in earnest. 

“that’s why she’s been waiting at the bleachers.” and sunghoon fake gags. 

“you’re disgustingly in love with her or something.” jake offers him a lopsided smile and bounces off in your direction, afraid you’ve left now that there’s no one on the field and the sun might start to set soon. but to his relief, you’re there, with your pretty hair and your pretty face and your pretty everything. 

“____!” he says running over with his bag. “sorry for keeping you waiting.” 

you close your notebook, where you’ve done half of your math homework between watching jake pass the ball and scoring. and you’re a little irritated at how long it takes for boys to run across the field to practice soccer, but you’re just more worried about getting home safely. “tell me what you need. it’s cold, and it’s getting dark, sim.” 

“you walk home?” and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t noticed something like that sooner. and you nod, packing your things slowly. “i’ll go with you.” 

“why?”

“because i don’t want a pretty girl like you to walk home alone.” he says, changing his shoes. 

“i’m not worried because it’s dark, i’m worried because it’s cold.” you argue, not ignoring how he calls you pretty. 

“then wear my hoodie.” 

“but my face will be cold.” 

“then kiss me.” he blurts. 

huh? kiss? jake? 

“kiss?” you reiterate, staring at him like he has three heads. 

jake’s eyes widen in panic. “well you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

“it’s not like i don’t want to.”

“so if you want to, and your face is cold, why can’t we..”

“well i don’t know what it’s like to be kissed!” you admit awkwardly, suddenly finding the dirt on the bleachers much more interesting than the way jake is probably looking at you like you’re a loser. 

“it’s okay, i haven’t either.” and his confession makes you whip your head around, face to face with a boy who very much looks like he’s had a girlfriend- or a few. 

“but-“ and you’re definitely taken aback. “but you’re so..” 

all of the playfulness floods back into his grin as he unabashedly observes your every reaction. “so…what, ____?” and despite a frown overcoming your features, your heart thuds rapidly with the proximity between you two, and you can’t help but lose your train of thought when he’s so close. “pretty?” and it refers to your slip of tongue, making you scrunch your nose in embarrassment. 

“i don’t know.” your murmur. 

“you don’t? come on angel, you aren’t the smartest in our class for nothing.” and you hear the way his accent permeates every few words, and unfortunately, it’s just painfully unfair how attractive he looks when he chuckles and reaches up. “may i?” he says, and you nod, letting him scoot closer and grasp your chin. and you give him permission because you don’t have a reason to say no, and even if you did, all protest dies on your tongue when he leans in just a little bit more, and your eyes flutter shut, tilted slightly for your lips to slot perfectly against his. and your face burns with how much you enjoyed your kiss with jake, so much so that when you part, it’s not for long, since you place your hands on his shoulders and whisper to no one but him, “kiss me again.” 

and you kiss sim jaeyun on the bleachers for the second time, your hands pulling him close as you both enjoy the spark of the moment. and jake can’t get enough of you- it's evident with now the time you spend apart from each other far less in comparison to the time he spends with his eyes closed and with your lips against his. 

you pull apart with a giggle and a boulder of bashfulness on your shoulders, unsure of how you even got here with your lip balm smeared across his lips. and you’re one of the smartest students there, but your train of thought probably crashed somewhere the moment you could smell the fresh scent of his cologne. 

yeah- maybe you were doomed from the start. 

“let’s get you home, yeah?” 

and even though your face is still cold, you wear his hoodie and hold his hand to make sure you’re not cold anywhere else. “what did you want me to stay behind for?”

“right- art history!”

“i said it a whole bunch of times! i’m not going to tutor you, jake!”

he pouts. "still?"

reblogs + interactions r appreciated!