#thread; chris

[ky-landfill]

If ya in the mood: can you do Kon, kid jon and kid Chris please or whenever you can?

Kent household unearthed camcorder footage

[ninyard]

“Jean Moreau’s activism over the years: a thread 🧵”

I’m so sorry this is all that kept going through my head when I thought about this one

[garadinervi]

Many Hands Make a Quilt: Short Histories of Radical Quilting, Written by Jess Bailey (Public Library Quilts), Edited by Laura Moseley, Design by Chris Shortt, Illustrations and first edition design by Saffa Khan, Common Threads Press, [Norwich], (2022-)2024, Second Edition [SpazioB**K, Milano. Idea Books, Amsterdam]

[sleg48]

The Screaming Gophers’ Twitter Threads

[linolinoing]

[chicademartinica]

Me every time I see the red handrail/ red ties / red clothes / blood while watching the show : *SCREAMS*

[doesromandoart]

Dan vs. Needing Therapy

Big fan of whatever this dynamic is

[tweetingukpolitics]

[neptunevasilias]

There is so much I could say about how Pyrrha and Neptune parallel each other, but the fact that Pyrrha is from a Greek myth and Neptune from a Roman myth is really the cherry on top of it all.

[citrine-elephant]

idea: parasitic wasp.

leon trying to convince himself that it was totally just a weird fuckin fever dream. getting attacked, being paralyzed, that fuckin thing stabbing him multiple times.

and yeah, definitely.... definitely... he's definitely not about to start digging into those swollen lumps with a knife -

[scienceknewmynightmares]

who: chris and raymond where: chris' place @xxnowinexilexx

raymond was coming home from a bender night since he didn't really have any other substances to use (yet). chris was nice enough to let him crash at his place while he was coming back from tour and needed to get his own place in order again. "shit," he mumbled when the door closed louder than he meant behind him. trying to play it off he quickly laid on the couch but forgot to take his shoes off, now it was just hoping chris didn't notice.

[garadinervi]

Rachel Dedman, Stitching the Intifada. Embroidery and Resistance in Palestine, Edited by Laura Moseley, Designed by Chris Shortt, Common Threads Press, [Norwich], 2024 [Idea Books, Amsterdam]

«Tatreez — elaborate hand-embroidery — is an ancient Palestinian craft characterised by remarkable beauty and complexity. Beginning with an introduction to the regional diversity of historic Palestinian dress, Rachel Dedman traces the politicisation of embroidery after the Nakba of 1948. From its evolution into a symbol of the nation, to its powerful presence during the First Intifada, and reimagination by contemporary artists, tatreez in Palestine embodies many forms of personal and public resistance.  Proceeds from this book will be donated to the Palestine Red Crescent Society, whose mission is to provide humanitarian assistance as well as health and social services to Palestinians whenever and wherever needed.»

[renaisguy]

How ██ ███ Reluctantly Saved Count Varley From an Assassination Attempt

Continued from here

To recap the plot of this fine yuletide night,  An assassin gave Varley a terrible fright,  Forde was one of two sent to set these wrongs right,  And from the clues found he has a target in sight. 

One of two? He then questions, and looks back behind,  Yes Sennō’s still there, why was that on his mind?  He blinks once then twice, and to his surprise,  █en█ō’s gone, disappeared before his very two eyes. 

Forde rushes forward to confront his mark,  His appearance is jolly, though his heart must be dark,  Forde hurls his javelin, which of course doesn’t miss,  At this terrible villain, the man known as… Chris. 

Why was Forde so sure his target was here?  Well first was the rumour of flying reindeer.  When questioning villagers, a woman did flinch, “There’s only one man around who has used the word ‘Grinch’.” 

“Chris Crinkle’s his name”, another did tell, “And I’ve never seen him without those damn bells.”  Finally, Forde would bet on his life,  The dagger by his side is that candy cane knife. 

“Why’d you do it?” Forde asks, restraining the man.  Chris snickers, explaining he isn’t a fan. 

“Count Varley’s a bitter man, filled to the brim,  With hatred and malice, don’t you think he’s grim? I wanted the holiday spirit in him, What choice did I have? My chances were slim,  To convince him instead with a carol or hymn. This knife wasn’t just gonna give him a trim.” Chris Crinkle’s the name, and I wanted him dead,  I’d crumple him like paper, and tear him to shreds.”

“And then I’d-” “Please shut up!” Forde says with a shout.  “I’ve got no damn clue what you’re talking about.  There’s just one more thing that I’d like to know, Just now, what did you do to my partner, ███nō?”

Chris looks up at Forde, with genuine shock, And that feeling returns, that great mental block.  Forde whacks the man, who lets out a groan. “I don’t know what you mean! You came here alone!” 

Forde returns to Count Varley, villain in tow, Though his days are now numbered, his spirits aren’t low,  “Any final words?” He’s asked, to which he says, “Oh, 

“You think you’ve won Varley, but in the long term oh no,  A foul grinch like you, who would stoop so low,  Will never be happy! Ho Ho Ho Ho!” 

Still laughing, he’s struck down, with a single blow. 

Count Varley, still shaken, goes to thank Forde,  And brings out, as promised, a fitting reward.  But the Count looks confused, oh what’s he to do? “Wasn’t there another man with you? Take his share too.” 

Though Chris Crinkle was wrong to enact this ploy,  It’s never wrong to spread some holiday joy.  We hope you’ve been filled with some fun festive cheer,  Have the merriest Christmas, and a happy new year. 

Later, as Forde has returned to his place, The smile is missing from our bright painter’s face.  Maybe it’s just the memory of Chris, the villainous scum,  Tell me, dear Forde please tell me, what has got you so glum? 

“It’s █████.” He sighs, “Now where could he be? He may be unpleasant, but I didn’t think he’d flee. I asked around the school, every answer’s the same, No one’s ever heard of a man by that name.” 

Well you see- “I’m not finished.” He speaks with a blank stare.  “When I say the name █████, it’s like there’s nothing there. And how did I not notice it? This entire time,  Everything I’ve said has been compelled to rhyme.”

What Forde doesn’t know (he couldn’t, I’m sure), Is that this sort of thing has happened before, The memories usually fade right away,  But instead of threads ending, what happened today,  He was forced to finish this fine Yuletide play. 

“It’s happened before?” Forde says, rather blue.  “No- but that couldn’t- it cannot be true! Though I guess not remembering’s kinda the point,  I don’t think my memories could be that disjoint.” 

You forget when they leave, that’s always the rule.  Though you’ll recall them once more should they return to the school.  Now please, take a nap, it’s fine if you snore. When you wake up, this will not burden you anymore. 

“If I’m going to lose my memories anyway, What other times have my thoughts gone astray?”  Do you really want to know, though it may hurt you? Forde gulps and nods, “I promise, I do.”

E███y█, ███ri██e, █u██s██, ███ll, ████.  Sir ██████, Li████, your friends, but they went. 

“Thank you.” Forde says. “Even though they are gone,  I am grateful for every one of my bonds.”  A very good answer, that’s very on theme. 

And at that moment, Forde awakes from his dream. 

No memory of those names is still present,  So no time to think about what that all meant.  But thank you, dear reader, for playing your part, And thanks for the bonds that Forde keeps in his heart, I’m eternally grateful for how this year went, Now onwards and upwards, to the lore event!

Now, here’s something that we haven’t seen in a while,  On his face Forde wears a bright beaming smile.

[forgotten-retrouvaille]

//CLOSED STARTER ❯ MEMORIES OF BLOODSHED

@auratold @realdeadeye

It all felt so unreal .

Jill Valentine , the B.S.A.A's finest , a mythical name to all of those in this business , and she was nothing more than a name carved into the marble statue that adorned the front of the organization's North American HQ . The woman who'd singlehandedly survived both Arklay and Raccoon , the woman who'd founded this very organization , and one of the only women out there who'd served with Delta Force . Chris had always thought her to be nigh indestructible - there was nothing she couldn't do , nothing she couldn't survive - and there she had gone. Saved his own ass when he'd been dumb enough to get caught .

He still couldn't get the sound of shattering glass out of his head, months later . Couldn't get the sound of wind and rain lashing the walls of the Estate as he fell onto his knees in front of the broken window , watching as his partner and their rival disappeared into the mist below . Couldn't get the sight of the empty beach out of his head - Jill Valentine was many things, and now , the final title she'd ever receive would be martyr .

She died fighting for them . For him . He could think of no better end for the woman that he'd grown so close to , could think of no other way she'd leave , but god did it still hurt . Chris still hadn't processed everything , hell , while writing that report up a week or two ago about the official status of the missing operative , he'd nearly broken down right then . He'd stopped himself, though - all he felt was numbness , spreading right through to his core .

This suit felt suffocating .

The tie felt like it would choke him out if he kept it on for any longer.

They could spare this one night for a woman who had done everything she could to ensure that they were here now , before they would all have to return to paperwork and deadlines and operations and all that bullshit .

Chris had prepared a speech earlier , but he didn't know if he'd be able to make it through it . Organized this whole thing, with Claire's help . He owed her that much , at least . The paper's in his pocket . Freshly printed , but worn from the thousands of times he'd gone over it .

A quarter's in his hand . He's studying it , fingers tracing the grooves in the customized metal . The meaning wouldn't be missed by anyone like him .

There's a flag on her casket .

An empty one , but one nontheless.

It's neatly folded . He'd spent hours ironing it , folding it so it was absolutely perfect for her .

He's going to carry it . Insisted on it . He's in the back of the hearse now , but he can't bear to flicker his eyes to the carefully engraved wood in the back . It isn't long until they reach the B.S.A.A's soldier's cemetery , where everyone else is bound to be waiting already .

Some of her old military friends had heard , and were coming. Same with the B.S.A.A , the D.S.O , anyone who meant anything to her .

Chris didn't know how he was going to be able to face them all and tell them she died because of him .

[chicademartinica]

The 红线, « the read thread of fate that may stretch or tangle but never break » being the boxing straps ???!!! And baby boy wanting to be tied (by fate and you know TIED) by and to Qian ?

ALSO Kurt Huang plays ALL the nuances of desire so well. Thirst ? Check. Yearning ? Check. Horny ? Check ! Hunger ? Check.*

*Categories by my shifu @absolutebl

[unofficial-michael-afton]

why does the crying child get a new name like every year