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2008.06.12 05:24 Polski Subreddit
Subreddit dla piszących i czytających po polsku. English posts are welcome if tagged as English 🇬🇧.
Hello, I've recently made a Pilsner with 98% Pilsner Malt and 2% Melanoidin, pitched with 2 packets of W-34/70 and left to ferment around 18-19C (64-66F). Within 5 days it had finished fermenting (checked Gravity and it was stable), and gave it another 2 days just in case to clear up and then cold crashed for 2 -> kegged. During tasting the gravity samples (who doesn't?) I didn't detect any butteriness or diacetyl-like flavours. After kegging, I feel like there's now a very mild butter, maybe toffee, caramel type flavour present on the back of the tongue just after the swallow. After reading about it and the possibility of a Pedio infection that can cause diacetyl, I feel like I can now taste a slight sourness or twang to it, but i'm not sure whether that is a case of me being hyper-paranoid and making myself think its there. Long story short, i'm wondering whether it is worth risking oxidation by opening the keg and having a look at the top for any kind of filmy layer that could be the presence of infection, or whether to just ride it out and let it do its thing. If it is infection, is it a dumper? And if it isn't infection but rather just diacetyl, can anything be done about this? I've already cleaned the beer lines with Beer Line Cleaner just in case.
Herkese tekrardan merhaba. Bir önceki anketimde sizlere 4 film ismi verip eleştiri/önerisini yapmam için birini seçmenizi istemiştim. En çok istenen film butterfly effect oldu fakat Zodiac filmini yapmazsam evim basılacağı için bu gönderide zodiac eleştirisi yapıp bir sonraki öneride Butterfly effect yapmayı düşündüm. Umarım hoşunuza gider, keyifli okumalar. Zodiac 2007 ABD yapımı gerilim filmi. (Ben gerilmedim açıkçası) 1960'lı yılların sonundan itibaren ABD'nin batı sahillerinde seri cinayetler işleyen ve kendine Zodiac takma adını koyan katili yakalama öyküsüne dayanmaktadır. Zodiac, 60’lı yıllarda işlediği beş cinayeti gazetecilere yolladığı şifreli mektup ve şiirlerle bir oyun haline getiren ve kimliği hiçbir zaman öğrenilemeyen ünlü seri katili ve onun peşinde 'hayatı kayan' bir avuç adamın hikayesini anlatıyor. Zodiac’ın Arthur Leigh Allen olduğuna dair güçlü kanıtlar bulunsa da, Allen’ın ölümü bu iddiaların sonuçlanmasını engelledi. Katilin 4 Temmuz 1969’da işlediği ilk cinayetin etkileyici bir şekilde sergilenmesiyle başlayan Zodiac, muhabir Paul Avery (Robert Downey Jr.) ile politik karikatürist Robert Graysmith’in (Jake Gyllenhaal) olayla ilgilenmesiyle hızlanmaya başlıyor. Zamanla Zodiac, yolladığı şifreli mektuplarla peşine düşen gazetecileri oyununa çekiyor ve hem gazeteciler hem de polis, uzun yıllara yayılacak bir koşturmanın içine giriyor. Filmi genel olarak beğenemedim çünkü 2.30 saat sadece karikatürist, muhabir ve bir dedektifin uyumsuz bir şekilde bir katilin peşine düşmeye çalışmalarını izliyorsunuz ve bu sürenin sonunda da katili bulamıyorlar dolayısıyla film hiçbir yere bağlanmıyor. Sırf oyuncu kadrosu için izlemiştim açıkçası konusundan da fazla umutlanmamıştım. 10 üzerinden 4 vermemin sebebi de sadece Robert Downey Jr. ve Mark Ruffalo için.
2020.09.28 02:39 oofboi2002First time posting. Please critique my long ass story as it is not near finished yet. Even if its a nuke of a criticism give it to me
As I stood at the dock’s edge, gazing at the tempestuous sea I couldn’t help but wonder why I had decided to come to this desolate rock. Could it have been a fickle attempt to escape the everyday humdrum of life? Or had some enigmatic force of fate brought me to this rickety atoll? My dismal rumination was abruptly quelled by a stout hand-clapping my shoulder, my thoughts still roared as I turned to see the briny barge captain who had stirred me. He must have noticed my vacant stare because he immediately led me to a musty wooden tavern not thirty yards away from the dock’s cragged edge. As we ambled through the swinging saloon doors I began to grasp how meager this hamlet was. My inattentive thoughts were jarred by the bartender gruffly asking for my drink of choice, I simply abstained myself which elicited a grumble from the chapped man. As I sat in the bar, I could feel manifold sets of eyes scouring my slouched shoulders. I could hear hushed voices redound off the rotting walls “Looks like a fresh continental.”, “Come next barge he’s gone go back home cryin’ to mama.” I stood from my seat and left the peculiar locals to their swill. I noticed a filmy patch of fog rolling through the cobbled stone streets. As I looked back to the dock I noticed the vessel that I had arrived on was now a distant mote on the horizon. I began combing the stark streets for any refuge that didn’t contain unsavory locals or fetid scents. As I strolled through the fog the warm effulgence of oil lamps illuminated a small chain bound wooden sign that merely read “INN”. As I entered the lobby, I saw that the inn was well lit and unsoiled by rot or water damage. As I strode to the end of the reception area I noticed a golden service bell on the edge of a glossy wooden desk labeled “Check-In” I rang the small bell and not a second later a small elderly woman scooted from a small curtained room to the side of the desk opposite me. I examined her face more closely to see keen exuberance in her eyes as if I were an old friend she hadn’t spoken to in some time. “Hello, my name is Ida and welcome to my Inn. How long would you like to stay my dear?” “I’ll stay for a week.” I said reluctantly, I had no idea when the next ship would come to this port and the locals are no help whatsoever. “Wonderful!” she croaked “So many continentals come to stay here, my business has been booming since I opened four years ago.” This comment confused me greatly because the keyboard behind her was completely full. “This way young man you’ll be staying in room 3.” The woman quickly shuffled up a flight of burnished wooden stairs to reveal a carpeted hallway with 5 rooms on each side. “You said your business was booming…” I alluded “…but the other rooms are vacant.” Ida smiled at me and asserted “The other patrons left the village to get closer to the island.” This statement perplexed me, “This place is so bleak. Why would anyone want to make a home here?” I thought to myself as Ida’s face receded with the closing door. My room was a spacious 40 square meter box with red curtains covering immaculate double windows. I took to lying down on the cushy king bed so that I could reflect on my circumstances comfortably. After some ephemeral solitary deliberation, I heard a feeble knock on my door. When I opened the door there stood the slightly wilted figure of Ida, but this time she was holding a small sheet of paper. “Since you’re going to be here for a bit, I thought you might want to know this town’s history.” The paper had a picture of a gaping cave entrance that gave me a disconcerting chill. I gripped the pamphlet, but the woman maintained her grip. “Watch yourself when you leave your room you hear? The folk who live in this town are the least of your worries.” She then released the brochure and retired to the lobby. The leaflet described the founding of the town by a small fleet of European trading ships that were immobilized by a severe tropical storm that devastated the area. These settlers lived on the island for nearly a century, but one day a military vessel docked, and the men were astonished to find the settlement and the entire island to be empty. It was as if the people had vanished into thin air. Soon the settlement was repopulated during the Industrial Revolution in hopes that the island had hidden riches to strip and sell to the highest bidder. However, many of the prospectors reported seeing pale slick-headed figures stalking the dark inlets of the cave system. These legends were never confirmed, and no lives were lost until one day the miner’s exit had a massive cave in and hundreds of men were killed along with the island’s economy. The island is now a secluded community that feeds itself with the sea’s bounty. As I flipped to the back of the handout, I found a map of the island with important locations corresponding to its history each marked with a crudely written title and small “x” to specify. My eyes scanned the map I saw a small gray patch of land near the watery center of the atoll. The patch was marked “Murky Grotto”, this was the location that was pictured on the front of the pamphlet and the site where the cave-in occurred. I flipped the paper back to its face and studied the maw of the cave closely, I’m positive I saw something in that cave. I could feel the hand holding the picture drifting closer to my face until I could see nothing but the darkness within. My vision was completely darkened by the picture, but when I moved the photo away from my eyes, I realized that I was no longer in the warm hotel room. I was totally enveloped by inky blackness on all sides, the only thing my senses could interpret was the biting chill in the air and the faint dripping of water. My heart jumped from resting to throbbing against my rib cage. As my breath became faster, I began to hear clumsy footsteps accompanied by ear-shattering wails and erratic cries of primal rage. I couldn’t tell what was making the peculiar noise, but all I knew was that it was getting louder and therefore closer. I reduced my breathing to remain completely silent. I could feel its frenzied breath on my face. Standing before me was what may seem human, but this beast was coated and continuously secreting a sickly lemon-colored mucous, sporting a near melanin free outer membrane, the eyes must be completely worthless as the beast does not acknowledge visual stimuli its bulbous and milky eyes seem to be an evolutionary mutation as useful as the human appendix, the mutant also didn’t have a single visible hair on its body. The mutant’s physical condition is questionable, to say the least. Much of its body was simply gaunt deformity. The torso is mostly stretched thin skin over protruding bones. The mutant’s prominent facial features include its lack of a nose, instead, it has two nostrils nestled in a small facial ridge where its nose should be was. The mutant’s ears are also embedded into its head rather than protruding. My blood ran cold as the creature’s dead eyes bulged while it silently stood in front of me, baring its rows of deformed teeth in my face almost as if it knew it was standing inches away but preferred to taunt me instead. I began to slowly inch away from the mutant as quietly as possible step by step. However, my fear overtook my footing as I backed into what must have been a thick stalagmite and began to plunge to the floor. As I fell, I could see the creature aimlessly swiping toward me, the monstrosity wore a tattered black cloak, but no shoes. The creature’s feet were densely webbed to the point where what would be toes were nearly fused together. The last thing I heard before I collapsed was another spine-chilling scream coming from the creature. I shot up from lying down, once again blind for a moment until the small pamphlet flaked off my face and into my lap. My body was shaking immensely as I tried reassuring myself that I had just fallen asleep and had a terrible nightmare, but I could feel the dull flow of adrenaline through my body. I sauntered into the bathroom to use the sink to cool my sweat laden forehead, as I refreshed myself, I chuckled because I had gotten myself so worked up over a stupid nightmare. As I dried my hands however I could feel something warm running down my neck, I used a few sheets of toilet paper to clear my sweat, but as I brought the paper to my face to examine the amount of sweat my vision began to blur as I saw that I had not cleaned sweat off my neck rather the wipe was stained red with fresh blood. I stumbled into the stand-in shower and activated the tepid flow of water. I faced the shiny silver floor drain as I watched diluted blood swirl into the pipes below just trying to distract myself from the I implored myself to think of any logical answer other than the repulsive possibility that was slowly pushing its way to the forefront of my mind. “The nightmare.” I blankly uttered. Soon afterward the blood stopped flowing down my back and shoulders and I stepped out of the shower shaking profusely even though the temperature was better than most showers I’ve used. I threw myself toward my duffel bag to retrieve my meds. “Don’t think about it. None of it makes sense so don’t delude yourself by trying to make it logical.” I chanted as I downed my medicine with a swig of water I spread myself across the bed, staring up at the ceiling with my mind still racing, but eventually my medication eased my mind enough that my heart resumed its normal resting pattern. I was determined to stay awake until I could convince myself that I was just anxious about staying in this eerie hamlet. I soon pushed it to the back of my mind and decided that I would go back to the tavern and look for a guide and something to eat. As I descended the stairs, I could see that the old woman was nowhere to be found in the lobby, so I simply left a generous payment for the weeks lodging next to the cramped guest ledger. I took a closer look at the paper to notice that Ida was, in fact, right that many travelers had come to the inn, however, there was a column marked “Room Status” and every single name except for mine was marked vacated on the same date and within the same hour. This confused me at first, but I then realized that these people must have come together, perhaps they checked out to explore the island’s entirety. As I left the Inn I was again greeted with a thick fog and dark skies. As I returned to the coast where I arrived I felt a few raindrops hit the nape of my neck as thunder rolled in the distance. I stopped before I entered the bar again because I could once more feel eyes on my back. I turned to see a man dressed in a navy-blue police uniform with an aged 1911 pistol model on one hip and a sleek nightstick on the other. The man raised one of his gloved hands and motioned for me to come closer. As I approached I saw the man’s gaunt features, his eyes were baggy and dark as his suit, immense stress markings on his forehead, and an unsightly scar stretching from his left commissure to the corresponding earlobe. “Hello son, you’re the new cont’nental arrived yesterday right?” he coolly inquired, “Continental?” I quizzically asked, “Everyone keeps calling me that, but I don’t know what it means.” “Means you’re from the mainland, means they don’t trust you neither. These folks only care for their own and don’t take well to outsiders meddling with their traditions.” The officer said overly nonchalantly. “I noticed that they weren’t very fond of me as soon as I walked into the bar. Do the locals even speak to newcomers unless they have to?” I inquired genuinely regretting not stepping back onto the barge instead of being distracted by the queer community of ruffled fishermen. “Most folk just keep a sour look til’ newcomers get the message.” He punctuated his sentence by grabbing a small canteen and taking a swig of what I assumed was water. “Do you know when the next barge will come here? I made a mistake staying here and I need the first boat back to the mainland.” The officer chuckled and looked at me as if I had told him a joke he had heard many times before. “Next barge carrying general good’s comin’ in 13 days. Til’ then you’re stuck on this berg.” My heart sank as I had enough money to last that period, but I was reluctant because of the lack of activities since I was technically a second-class citizen to the locals. The officer surely noticed my expression because he put his white pristine white glove on my shoulder and stated “I know it’s inconvenient son, but the locals don’t want nothin’ to do with the mainland less’ they can’t find it on the island. The only boats the locals own are small rowboats nd’ they only use em’ for haulin’ fish n’ firewood.” “Say…” he blurted “…I’ll bet you haven’t got a tour of the town yet. How’d you like a po-lice escort, son?” “Sure.” I relented “But how much of this dinky shantytown is there to tour?” I mentally scoffed. Instantly after I accepted his offer the officer turned 180 degrees and began rigidly marching down the street opposite of the bar. The thick fog gave the officer a strange appearance, his dark figure seemed to push the fog to his side while my thin frame was seemingly consumed by the syrupy haze. The officer suddenly stopped and clicked his polished shoes together to face the second-best kept building I’d seen “This’s the general store, here’s where most of the goods from the barge go.” “Finally!” I thought “I don’t have to go to that dingy bar to get food and drink. I thought I’d never find a store here.” The officer began to say something, but I was only interested in the small wooden shelves freshly stocked with ample instant food that only requires water, seasoning shakers, various tools, and various fishing gear and accessories. I grabbed a small paper bag and filled it with instant food and some bottled water. However, the cashier stopped totaling my items when I opened my wallet and took out a couple of 5-dollar bills. “Sir you don’t have enough capital for your items.” the man groaned “You need more than ten dollars for some lousy instant food and bottled water?” I griped. The man started to respond but closed his mouth as I felt a familiar feeling on my shoulder. I turned to see the officer with a small but smug grin on his face “We don’t accept continental cash here son.” he ribbed. I then noticed both men had small canvas sacks attached to their belts, the officer removed his and took out a few slimy segments of what looked like fish scales. “I’ll pay for your food this time ‘round, but we don’t use no paper money with nobody but the barge captain.” The cashier shot the officer a quick grin, but his expression changed to a scowl when he returned my bag of items. As I walked down the creaky wooden steps the officer snickered “I was tryin’ to tell you we ain’t got any use for mainland cash, do us both a favor and let me finish next time.” Embarrassed and agitated by how obsolete my savings were in this backwater I simply nodded my head at the officer and dreaded having to return to the Inn and be confronted about my useless money. The officer continued his foggy march through the town showing me the town hall, small woodworking shop, and finally a cramped post office. As both of us exited the building I noticed that the rain that had only been a drizzle earlier was beginning to intensify. The officer turned to me and said “That’s it for the important places here. Now if you want me to show you a good place to see the beauty of this here island, we can make it there and back before the rain gets too heavy if you wanna take a gander.” Not caring about either the rain or how much time it took I agreed to follow him once more. As usual, he began marching up the cobbled streets, but when we reached the end of the road he didn’t break stride for a moment despite the unruly grass and bumpy terrain. We eventually reached and traversed an outlandishly symmetrical plateau. The top of the highland was shaped like a hexagon. When I averted my gaze from the odd highland I was greeted with the serene sight of the watery center of the atoll and the distant curve of the rest of the island. As both of us gazed in silence I made out what looked to be a protruding rock face with a dark yawning maw. As I looked closer I could see what looked like a line of figures filing into the mouth of the cavern. My trance was cut short by the policeman nudging me and pointing to the center of the band “That water there goes down deeper than any man could ever go. Locals go out and catch fish there, folk say that the deeper you go the bigger the catch.” The man then mumbled something to himself that was near indecipherable from what I heard it sounded like he mentioned something called “The Deep Sleeper”. He then turned to me as if he had said nothing at all and yapped “Whelp! We best get back ‘afore the storm gets nasty.” On the way back through town the officer did not march confidently as he had previously, he continuously turned his head to look at me until we reached the Inn as if he were looking at my expression to determine whether or not I had heard his preceding utterance. “Hope you had a hoot on the tour! Come by the town hall if anything’s troubling you. The locals may not acknowledge you, but just know I’m here night r’ day if need be.” he insisted. “Thank you officer…” “Name’s Tate, just give me a holler if you need anythin’” he jovially repeated. As Officer Tate departed, he resumed his austere march, not once looking back or breaking his stride until he disappeared from my sight. My body fluttered as I left the cold streets and entered the toasty lobby. Instead of a vacant front desk, Ida was reading quietly at the end of the room. I strode to the desk to apologize for using outmoded currency, but instead of anger, the senior matriarch gave a warm smile and politely said “The locals may use those stupid scales, but I still use mainland currency because that barge not only brings patrons but supplies to keep my Inn in the sterling condition it’s in now. You don’t need to worry about those gross scales here young man.” Relief washed over me as I thanked her profusely as I lumbered up the stairs with my groceries. When I finally locked my room door I was ready to sleep sometime in this dingy town away. Soon after I killed the lights I was enveloped in the thick curtain of sleep. I was awoken this time not by a nightmare, but by the sound of a door being continuously pounded on. At first, I groggily wrapped my pillow around my ears, but the pounding didn’t stop so I shifted out of bed and into my shoes. The blows were growing in intensity to the point where I believed that the entire door would break. As I cleaned out my sleepy eyes I listened for the sound of Ida, hoping that she would rebuke the antagonist, but the beating continued uninterrupted. Now irritated with being awoken by some instigator I swung my door open to catch the aggressor by surprise, but there was not a person in sight. I paced the length of the hall and every door was locked and the hall was barren of life. The more I thought about the situation the more irate I became, I stormed back into my room closing the door and went to sit on my bed, but as soon as my door was shut the pounding came back in full force, but this time the sound had switched locations. The unit next to me was shaking with the thundering boom from the sheer force of the blows. My body began to tense in anger as I whirled around to my door and again threw it open to find no life or unlocked doors. Thoroughly enraged, I walked to the sink to cool down. As I was splashing water on my face my blood began to boil as the booming sound was now coming from my door. I slowly crept to the threshold readying myself for a possible fight with some punk, but before I opened the door I decided to look through the peephole. However, as I focused my eye I could only see pitch blackness as if the hole were being covered, so I threw the door open with more force than I’ve ever mustered only to be greeted with cold murky darkness. My stomach felt like a deflating balloon as I recognized the echoing drips of water hitting the cavern floor. I held my breath waiting for the same depraved creature to begin its horrid patrol, but the creature did not come. My eyes soon adjusted to the darkness enough that I could see outlines of the cold stone bulwark, as I felt my way along the icy walls my foot kicked a small metal object. I slowly moved down to pick up what I had kicked, the object was a metal cylinder with a small rubber button on one end “A flashlight!” my brain exclaimed. With the click of a button, the dingy cave was bathed in a radiant glow. The cave was adjoined to what seemed to be my Inn room, out of curiosity I pulled the curtains in the room and was met with cold stone on the other side of the double window. Dejected, I scanned the cave for any sign of an opening. As I walked out of the room, I spotted a small dried bloodstain nearly two meters from a small stalagmite. There was no explanation other than the inane theory that not only are my nightmares connected but that these bizarre occurrences are in some way rooted in reality. The very thought made my brain begin to pirouette in blighting befuddlement, I could not stand to come to terms with such an absurd reality lest I lose my mind. As my flashlight shone on a far wall, I could see an exit from this godforsaken room, but as I approached the outlet I noticed the frame of the exit had chiseled petroglyphs of three heads. There were two heads on each support of the exit; at the lowest point was a glyph of a man, above him was a glyph of the pale oddity I encountered the night before, but at the top of the frame held by the beams was a carving of a giant beast with tendrils preceding its mouth and a cephalopod shaped head. The very sight of the squid-like beast chilled my very bones causing me to shudder like an abject recreant, but as promptly as I averted my eyes the feeling subsided. I recommenced my trek through the dank tunnels discerning only the sounds of rocks I dislocated ricocheting off the floor, every few minutes I’d hear mortified screams echo off the ceiling for it only to be met with primal bellowing and eventual silence, and the ever-rhythmic oozing of freezing water from all directions. The dreary grotto seemed to impede the constancy of time itself as I found myself endlessly wandering through dead end after dead end, destroyed refuge after destroyed refuge. I began to wonder as more and more unknown amounts of time passed what about eating and drinking? I had to have been in the hole for more than 6 hours, but I never felt the sharp pang of hunger, the slow parching of dehydration, nor the burn of muscle fatigue. After plenty of trial and error, I came to a fork in the path, as I looked to the right my gag reflex triggered as I heard gut-wrenching screams for mercy followed by frenzied wailing saw the floor was caked with dry blood and littered with bones from all parts of the human body and with one cursory smell I was inundated with the stench of decay. The path to the left was clear of any debris, and I could see a dim light illuminate the cave wall farther down the path. As I walked down the path I could feel frigid goosebumps radiate from my neck to my toes, my very eupnea felt like ice in my lungs, and yet my breath remained unseen. When I came near the light on the cave wall I peered my head around the corner only to see a stone brazier lit with a flame as blue as the depths of the sea itself. The flame burnt endlessly without tinder or fuel of any kind, I tried to warm myself with this fire, but as I drew nearer my blood grew colder and my body quivered more fiercely. I was astonished by this simple defiance of my fickle reality. I kept walking the path, distancing myself from each brazier as much as possible, but after passing the fifth brazier I could hear distant voices echoing off the walls, but I couldn’t decipher the muted murmurs that reverberated from wall to wall. As I grew closer to the voices I desperately wished to call for help, but those thoughts were admonished with the searing reminiscence of the path I repudiated. Would I be dismembered and picked clean if I so much as alerted one of the inhabitants? I wasn’t going to take that incurable risk, as I drew closer to the speaking figures, I could clearly hear what they said, but they spoke in a guttural consonant laden tongue that was not the least bit decipherable. I peered around the corner to see two men in black tattered cloaks standing on either side of one of the braziers chanting continuously. I watched curiously as the men looked to be in a trance of some sort, but the men suddenly rolled up their sleeves to reveal countless laceration scars some healed, others infected, and some fresh. As I was gawking at their many skin carvings both men unsheathed otherworldly daggers that measured about 20 centimeters, my stomach tensed as I watched them dig the blades into their wrists and hew down to their elbows. The men didn’t cry out in pain or even grimace as they tilted their lacerated arms into the bowl of the brazier, and as their blood cascaded into the bowl the men continued their chants. Suddenly the fire in the bowl changed into water but still moved as if it were scorching flame. The men then submerged their lacerated arms into the water and affixed their forearms, after doing this the men started to cry out in ecstasy. Following this, the men removed their arms from the bowl and began to stumble about with their eyes rolled back in unmitigated euphoria. In mere seconds the men were slouched against the wall, made comatose by otherworldly bliss. As the second man closed his eyes I crept past, warily navigating the twisting stone tunnels I stumbled across scores of hooded figures who took part in the same macabre ceremony all splayed on the floor arms still spurting sticky pools of blood. After the twentieth duo of masochistic freaks, I stumbled upon a massive clearing adorned with stone statues of the hideous winged cephalopod deity fraught with hooded figures, each was wearing wooden ceremonial masks fashioned to please the grotesque cephalopod creature. These cultists knelt around an ominous black obelisk that was pulsating gleaming energy seemingly due to their worship. Looking beyond the cultists I could see mighty pillars of white-hot lightning mirroring off the water’s surface that flowed from the center of the atoll, I’d have to cross the entire stone mezzanine and exit down a slab of stairs. As I began navigating my way toward the back of the cave, I grimaced at the mere audition of these chanting to their god in unholy unison. As I crossed the mezzanine directly behind the cultists, I noticed that this sect of mutants were the same humanoid beasts from my previous calamity, none of the figures wore shoes and their feet were also densely webbed. I knew I had to move quickly and carefully if I wanted to keep my skin as I approached the top of the staircase, I took a deep breath and began to surge down the stairs. I made it nearly halfway down before I heard a gut-wrenching wail coming from the depraved mutants below. I began to descend faster as most of the masked mutants didn’t move a muscle, but those who did began howling like tortured animals toward me. As soon as I hit the last stair I broke into a sprint for the mouth of the cave, but as I darted past the depraved creatures, I felt the ground begin to rattle and fissure, while the walls and ceilings begin to collapse upon. There was no time to waste in escaping from the depraved followers, I could hear their psychotic babbling as if they were close enough for a ride on my back. I felt the adrenaline numbing my every stride as I reached the edge of the cave’s gaping aperture and dove into the cloudy waves. Never had such cold and bemired water felt so liberating or invigorating, but even as I fled I could feel tremors rattling the very depths of the island. I slowly clambered out of the water to try and gather my bearings, but as I glanced upward I saw portentous black clouds fiercely merging into a whirling waterspout over the atoll’s center. The very earth beneath me rifted into fragments of dust infertile dust, cragged walls of lighting were hurled from the sky to destroy the wildlife, and in the distance, a tidal wave the size of the island came raging toward the island. As I lay in the grass I gazed at the waterspout, but as time passed the waterspout went from gargantuan to dwarf. But as the waterspout halted I witnessed a bulbous mass of gray flesh begin to rise from the water, I could feel an icy chill in each of my atoms as I watched the protracted tendrils rise from the murky depths. The cephalopod horror seemed disappointed that he had been freed to erase such a pathetic race of shallow mortals, and yet when its blistering red gaze met mine my lucid psyche howled in sanity searing anguish as I beheld The Deep One reclaiming its celestial cathedra as the harbinger, the lone horseman of mind-bending Armageddon. As the tidal wave drew fatally close to the island I took a deep breath of salty ocean air and closed my eyes accepting my fate. Just as I heard the wave make landfall I jolted awake and gasping for air in a deluge of my own sweat.
2020.09.27 03:11 look_wideCan't get a filmy / greasy film off windshield after first wash of new car. Is this normal? Is there a way to get off the film so it doesn't show at night when lights shine on windshield?
Can't get a filmy / greasy film off windshield after first wash of new car. Is this normal? Is there a way to get off the film so it doesn't show at night when lights shine on windshield?
2020.09.27 03:09 look_wideCan't get a filmy / greasy film off windshield after first wash of new car. Is this normal? Is there a way to get off the film so it doesn't show at night when lights shine on windshield?
Can't get a filmy / greasy film off windshield after first wash of new car. Is this normal? Is there a way to get off the film so it doesn't show at night when lights shine on windshield?
2020.09.25 18:12 ardabagwellYav orospu çocuğu micheal bay muhteşem bir hikaye ve konuyu sikip attın amk çocuğu remasteredi çıktı oda bok gibi şu harika dizinin mi diyim artık''Transformers'' bi düzgün filmi çıkmadı. Bu adam ölmeden çekilmesi lazım filmin başkası seslendiremez.
2020.09.25 13:15 Ms_ShettyI was selfish with Urmila: RGV on heroines and regrets
Heroines Over the years, the media has linked me with many women, partly because I have a tendency to cast some of them again and again in my films. But then I work again and again with many male actors and technicians too. But I guess since women make more interesting copy, the media always focuses only on that aspect of my interactions. Having said that, I have to admit that some of the media speculations are true and some untrue... but, out of respect for the privacy of my heroines, I am not going to specify which ones are true and which are not. The first heroine I was bowled over by was Sridevi and that was when I was just a viewer and hadn’t yet come into films. When I first met her I felt I had walked from the theatre straight into the screen. Over a period of time, I became close to that real Sridevi and for the first time consciously understood the difference between fantasy and reality. After coming into films, the first girl to have an impact on me was Urmila Matondkar. I was mesmerised by her beauty — from her face to her figure... everything about her was just divine. She had done a few films before Rangeela, which hadn’t done well and she hadn’t made much of an impact on the audience either. Then, after Rangeela, she became the nation’s sex symbol. That doesn’t mean it was I who made her look beautiful. I would say that she was a painting and I simply framed her. Apart from the frame, for a painting to be truly relished, it also needs the right place for it to be displayed in, and that place was Rangeela. One of my primary motives in making Rangeela was to capture Urmila’s beauty eternally on camera and to make it a benchmark for sex symbols. I would say that I have never felt more of a cinematic high than when I watched her through my camera on the sets of Rangeela. I don’t know how this may sound, but my biggest problem with Urmila on a personal front was that I just couldn’t accept her being an ordinary human being. I know that is a very unrealistic expectation from any woman but then you have to understand that I am a very filmy person. She was, in person, a simple sweetheart but I, very selfishly, always wanted her to be larger-than-life even in real life. Guilt Of all the actors I have introduced, the one I truly feel guilty about is Nisha Kothari. I still remember the first time I saw the cute, innocent, wide-eyed girl from Delhi whom I cast in the film James, which I produced. While James was being made, I was directing Sarkar and I cast Nisha in a small but very memorable role in it, in which she was really appreciated. My big mistake with regard to Nisha was to weigh her down with the role of Basanti in Aag, my remake of Sholay. It’s another matter that in Aag, I let down even great actors like Amitabh Bachchan, Ajay Devgn and Sushmita Sen. But for an upcoming actor like Nisha, it was really damaging. Whether out of arrogance or overconfidence or plain foolishness, I made her suffer a crippling blow to her career and I still feel tremendously guilty about it. Read more here OG Source: Guns & Thighs - Ram Gopal Varma; Publisher: Rupa.
2020.09.25 08:39 shravangr132(CONT'D from Yesterday's post) Culture-Shock No.2 - When I first moved to B'lore back in 2004, the things 13-year old me did to be 'cool' & I eventually lost my individuality. (Ofc I am also to be blamed)
Okay first off I didn't expect yesterday's post to explode with so many responses, thanks for sharing all your opinions. I had a few more points in mind, I wanted to share / hear your different thoughts or similar experiences on. A quick recap about me: Born, brought up in a conservative 90s Chennai - Briefly lived in Singapore - Back to India (Bangalore) in 2004. The Twist: My idea of India was the 'same-old conservative Chennai' from when I left - little me was too naive/stupid to realize that things change with time & that too now that I was going to a relatively more 'liberal' city like Bangalore. Below were my observations: Culture-Shock (8th to 12th std) : 1) What being 'Macho' or a Stud meant: I was always a very emotional / emotionally sensitive person. I can cry easily. Also, I loved Indian/bollywood movie dance - the Hrithik Roshan, Prabhudeva, Michael Jackson types. According to me that's what a cool guy was supposed to be like. But I could hardly connect with anyone in my school (NPS - probably another reason) who supported me, I was always made fun of. To other dudes around me: playing the guitar, heavy metal, metallica, bikes, cars, wrestling, shying away from showing 'emotions'. Not commenting on other guys' looks. 2) Attitude towards same / other genders: Being a very desi filmy person from the 90s in Chennai - it was not common for us (straight) boys to have posters of Hrithik roshan, Kamal, SRK , Brad pitt or whatever in our rooms. We would openly comment on other guys looks ' Hey man I love Surya's face, he has such chiseled features & a sexy hairstyle' ( The thought of it being taken in a sexualized manner didn't even occur to us) What we mean: He looks so cool - this guy's beard, hairstyle, dressing sense. I should try to take him as a reference point for my own looks and impress chicks. What other macho dudes in my Bangalore school thought: I'm acting 'gay'. As a result, I often had to suppress my thoughts and stopped expressing myself freely like I was used to. 3) Pop Culture incident: In a game of 20 questions at school, I was made fun of for not knowing who 'Ryan Seacrest' was - the guy(11th std) was like - how can someone not know who Ryan seacrest is wtf are you? Me in my head :'Well do you know who Pepsi Uma is? Then STFU'. 4) Concept of school crushes/dating: With regards to my rant yesterday, you might have an idea of the kind of person I was. According to me: dating in school is all silly stuff just friendly teasing. kids are getting inspired watching American sitcoms - that stuff never happens in India. School is meant for studying & friends. Stuff like 'dating & love' happens only post college after we become adults legally. Others around me: Making out, dating, showing off their 'hickies' even before 12th std. Me: Facepalming. I'm done for now. Happy/open to hear all your thoughts. Judge me all you want. Go crazy. Cheers.
2020.09.24 17:59 Altruistic_Painting5havadan görüntüleme, fotoğraf çekimi, tanıtım filmi, klip çekimi, düğün çekimi, dış çekim, sosyal medya tanıtım filmi, gelin damat çekimi, nişan fotoğrafı, fotoğraf çekimi
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