Вирус silence is golden
Сайт самом собой на вп. Почитал англ яз форумы. Пробовал удалять их, правил htaccess. Толку ноль. Как получить данные к коду ?
Вот файл htaccess
Корпус Aerocool Dead Silence 200 Lite Black Edition
Стоит ли брать корпус Aerocool Dead Silence 200 Lite Black Edition для построения тихой.
Ремонт ПММ Bosch SKS50E18 Silence, мигает зубная щетка, потом горит END
Добрый день, Периферия проверена (именно - 3-ф насосы, тэн, датчик закрытия двери, аквастоп и.
Golden Jasper Media Player
Люди, пишу программу - Golden Jasper Media Player. Программа, пока что в разработке, но скоро будет.
MSI GTX 980TI GAMING 6G GOLDEN EDITION
Подскажите пожалуйста. Как считаете? Стоит ли переплачивать за золотое издание? Или взять просто.
Kolapsis, эти index.php в корне, если не ошибаюсь, чтобы сервер не выдал дерево каталогов.
Что значит не можешь получить доступ к коду? К какому коду?
А зачем дублируется? Оставь только блок ВП.
Для "поправить дизайн" не нужен доступ к html (его можно сказать вообще нет в ВП). И к indeх.php тоже.
За формирование внешнего вида отвечает тема и её шаблоны. Отчасти могут вносить плагины.
Если нужно поправить стили, то это можно сделать прямо в настройках.
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Заказываю контрольные, курсовые, дипломные и любые другие студенческие работы здесь. Потянет ли бп golden power model 400w-s видеокарту ASUS Nvidia GT440 Импорт электронных таблиц формата dat (созданные в Golden software Grapher 10) в Maple
Silence is GoldenGeneral information"Silence is Golden" was a deleted song of Disney's 1989 animated feature, The Little Mermaid, meant for Ursula and a precursor to Poor Unfortunate Souls. LyricsUrsula You won't sing, you won't speak But silence, silence is golden, my dear (spoken) Nobody likes a loudmouth! I mean it Well take it or leave it, that's all, that's the bargain And you’ll be Ariel: (spoken) Okay, I'll sign! Ursula: Beluga Sevrgua, come winds of the Caspian Sea Now here goes Enjoy it Silence is golden! | ||||||||||||||||
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Silence is Golden
John lost his ability to speak after his vocal chords were damaged due to a childhood illness. He's been picked on and bullied in school, but he has a lot of good friends who protect him.
Dave is the new kid, an ironic jock, and a cool mystery. He's intrigued by the quiet kid and it isn't long before he develops a crush. Even though John's friends make it difficult for Dave to get close to him, but the cool kid is determined.
This is the story of two boys who stumble through the awkwardness of young love and a communication barrier. Meanwhile a rejected friend and a stubborn brother meet and struggle to understand their own feelings.
This is an idea I've been playing with for a while and is finally taking form. Everyone writes mute!Dave, but what if John was mute? This is his story. ((note: before I wrote this, I looked EVERYWHERE and no one had ever written a mute or deaf John Egbert. I have started a movement!))
You should check out my other stories, The Heir and His Knight, Of Hope and Heart, and Away With the Fae
This story had many inspirations, the main one being my ASL class and love for mute characters. But the setting was inspired in part by various high school AU drawings that I've seen on tumblr.
Thanks for reading, everyone!
Your name is Dave Strider and sometimes you really regret listening to your brother.
Try out for the football team, he said. No one's faster than you, he said. Instant coolness, he said. Ironic as fuck, he said.
Yeah, okay, you did it for the irony. You could have been the cool kid even if you hadn't joined up with a team of meatheads for a sport that you don't care about. You could have been the new kid, strange, silent, and mysterious. But no. Somehow your brother convinced you that was too predictable. You needed to do something ironic. And what was more ironic than a Strider joining the league of jocks on a football team?
You swear your brother came in his pants when you told him you made it.
And then he preceded to piss himself from laughing.
Dirk says it'll be awesome. You'll live the stereotypical high school life you see repeated on so many shitty movies and TV shows. You'll be the guy all the girls want and all the dudes want to be. You'll rule the school with your new found instant popularity. You'll get the girl you want. You'll go to parties where kids think it's cool to get drunk off their parents' stash. Then you'll graduate with your usual good grades, move on to college, and leave behind jock life forever.
You might even get crowned prom king. You think your brother would have a heart attack if you did. The whole thing is as ironic as you could possibly get, fitting easily into a role that is the complete opposite of who you are just to fulfill an overused cliche. You didn't even know what a running back was until you got the position. You're still not entirely sure how the game works. You just do what they tell you to. Your brother thinks it's hilarious. You did too. But now you're getting pretty sick of it.
For one thing, you only thought about the games and winning and being celebrated. You had totally forgotten that sports teams practice. You hate practice. You hate wearing all your heavy all gear and running around in the sun hitting other dudes. Everyone else is so much more into than you are. Luckily not only are you fast, but you're able to stop on a fucking dime and go in a different direction. Your speed and agility is unmatched and puts your teammates in awe. Because of this, you're able to slack off during practices. Your coach hates it, and you give him either the silent treatment or some sass, but hey, they need you. He wouldn't dream of putting you on the bench.
The problem is mostly your shades. You can't wear them with your tight ass helmet gripping your head and shit. And there's no way in hell the first people to see your eyes since you left the foster care system are gonna be a bunch of jocks. So you convinced your brother to buy you some colored contacts. They irritate the shit out of your eyes, but you only wear them during practices and games. They make your eyes a dull, boring brown.
And if all that wasn't obnoxious enough, apparently as the new team star, you automatically get a spot in their little clique. It's a clique reserved for jocks, friends of jocks that are deemed cool enough, cheerleaders, and girls deemed hot enough. They're all arrogant, rude, loud, and obnoxious, but you can't escape them. You're not the leader by any means, but you're apparently cool enough that they like to stick around you and follow you everywhere.
The girls of the group are all over you. Everyone wants a piece of the hot new kid. Which would be cool if you actually liked girls. You don't, but that's hardly common knowledge. Instead you just brush them aside and act like an ass. Somehow that just makes them try harder. Maybe one of the reasons the dudes hang around you is to pick up your rejected pile of females.
So you pretty much hate jock life. It's too loud and arrogant. People aren't afraid to come up and talk to you or touch you. You hate being touched randomly like that. After a while of cold stares from behind your shades, they stopped the touching thing. But you'd still rather go back to the life of a stoic, mysterious, cool kid. At least then you had peace and quiet.
But Striders don't quit and you're just as stubborn as your brother, so you know you won't give up. You'll ride out this football thing to the end of the season and then disengage yourself from that crowd. Probably become a loner until you graduate. But you're okay with that. If you stay with the meatheads for too much longer, you know you'll go insane.
Just a couple more months until the end of the season. You can do this.
But as you watch the dorky kid walk away, you start to wonder if it's really worth it.
You've noticed him before. He's in a couple of your classes. He sits at the front while you sit in the back. He's got this messy black hair and skin that seems to have a natural tan, but he's still pretty pale. He wears these square, black rimmed glasses that could be considered hipster glasses if they were just a little bit bigger.
You know his name is John Egbert. And no, that's not because you stalk him or anything. You just pay attention sometimes when the teacher calls roll.
At first he was just another dorky kid in a public school. You noticed that the teachers never called on him in class, even though most of the time he seemed to be paying attention. Whenever he walked by your cliche alone, they would all yell things at him. You assume it's because he's clearly a dork and jocks pick on dorks. You never asked why him specifically. That would mean actually talking to them.
He never says anything in return. When he's with his friends however, they always say something. The tall tan guy with the weird accent is always polite, even though venom drips from his words. The small tan girl who has to be the other guy's sister, always yells back with her sassy don't-take-shit attitude. The short angry looking dude never passes up the opportunity to yell. The others are more quiet, but the looks they send the jocks could kill.
So his silence and over protective possy make him stand out from other dorks, but that's about it. Well that, and his smile.
You rarely get to see it. He's always looking down and avoiding making eye contact with you and your obnoxious group. He's always seemed timid to you. Quiet and timid. But once you were in the cafeteria and saw him in the comfort of his own friends. His smile was dazzling. It was such a drastic difference from the guy you were used to seeing. Your eyes started following him whenever he was around. You stared at him during class.
You were curious, that's all. It's not like you were developing a small crush on the guy. You can't imagine ever liking someone with the last name Egbert.
Then there you were, walking to class with a group of your meathead followers, when John rounds the corner and knocks you both on your asses.
You were totally prepared to brush it off and go about your business. But your "friends" weren't going to have any of that. They took advantage of the fact he was alone to hassle him. You said nothing, as usual. You didn't like to encourage them picking on the kid, but you also knew better than to go against them. So you usually just walked away. But this time you couldn't walk away. With him standing so close, you noticed a few things.
One, he's about a head shorter than you.
Two, his eyes are the brightest color blue you've ever seen.
Three, you were far too fascinated with him nervously chewing his bottom lip.
Luckily your shades hid where your eyes were actually staring. He never said anything and he looked like a trapped animal. You felt bad for him. You should have just walked away and the jocks would have followed you. But you couldn't stop staring at him. You've never been that close before. But then it didn't matter because his tall friend was there, scooping him out of danger and whisking him away.
You watched them go, totally not wishing you could have been the one to save him, when suddenly John turned around and mouthed the word "sorry" to you. It was so unexpected, you couldn't help the small smirk that curved your lips.
You were about to turn around and leave when you noticed it. He had left one of his notebooks in his scramble to get away. Without thinking too much, you pick it up and head to class.
You spend the class thinking about the dark haired dork who knocked you on your ass. After school, you head straight to the parking lot. A few of the guys from your team shout at you, waving and saying things like "see you tonight, man!" It's a friday in the middle of football season, which means you have a game. Tonight is an away game, which means you have to get back to the school earlier than if it was a home game. Then you get to ride on a bus with a bunch of hyped up jocks. Fun.
Rose is already at the truck, waiting for you.
She gives you a nod in greeting and you return it, unlocking your truck. It's nothing fancy, but it's not shit either. Just a simple bright red truck with two front seats, and a space behind them that had two little seats that could barely be called that. Rose slides into the passenger seat and you climb into the driver's seat.
"Have a good day at school?" She asks as you turn the key and the engine rolls over.
"Same as always. Testing my sanity as I deal with a bunch of arrogant douche bags. Seriously, Lalonde, I think I'm a masochist." You say, backing out of the spot and turning your trunk toward the main road.
"My office is always open if you need to talk about your method of self-harm." She says, carefully placing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, a small smirk on her lips. When you first showed up, people honestly thought you two were related. Some of them probably still do.
You snort and roll your eyes. "So you can pick apart my brain and pull all your phycological bullshit on me? I don't think so." Sometimes it's nice talking to Rose about issues, but you really have to be in the mood for a feelings jam to allow it.
You've known Rose for a couple of years now. Your brother met her sister in college. Since the two of you didn't have any other family, Roxy always invited you to her parents' home in Washington for the holidays. You always went. You think maybe Dirk felt bad about not being able to provide you with a normal Christmas for the majority of your life. Either way, you both enjoyed yourselves in the Lalonde household. You and Rose got along in a quieter fashion than your louder older siblings. After the holidays when you went back to New York, you and Rose kept in touch through Pesterchum.
Roxy and Rose's mom is some kind of famous scientist. After Dirk graduated and was looking for a place to go, she was asked to take a year long tour in Europe. Roxy was going into grad school and couldn't move back home, and Rose refused to move away from where she'd made friends. Eventually they asked Dirk if he would like to live in their family home and be a guardian for Rose. He didn't say yes until he asked you first. You said you didn't mind, so off to Washington you both went.
So for the first time since you escaped the foster care system, you're living in a house and not an apartment. There's also a girl living with you, so no swords in the fridge.
The house is about a ten minute ride from the school. You and Rose have playful, snippy banter the entire way. You enjoy it. You tend to bottle yourself up during school hours to avoid talking to those who wouldn't understand your sense of humor. When you reach the house, you park next to Dirk's car in the driveway and you both trudge into the house.
Dirk's not in the living room, which usually means he's locked away in the garage, working on his robotics or something. Rose goes straight to her room and you go to yours without another word. You sit at your computer, open up your browser, and start opening up your usual tabs. It only entertains you for so long. Soon your eyes are drifting to your messenger bag that you had left abandoned at your feet.
You pick it up and fish out the notebook you'd picked up earlier. If you weren't already certain that it belonged to John, his name is written in his somewhat messy-but-readable handwriting on the top right corner of the cover. You set the notebook on the desk in front of you, dropping your messenger bag to the floor, and sit back to stare at it. It's a regular school notebook, metal spiral, college-ruled, one hundred sheets, blue. In your mind, John seems to be the kind of guy to label his notebooks with the class subject. This one doesn't have any label other than his name. Perhaps that's why you're drawn to it.
But you're also hesitant. Like peeking at the notebook is an invasion of privacy. It's just a notebook. What could possibly be inside? Probably school related things. But it's the first insight into the strange quiet kid with a killer smile. This is a monumental moment. This shouldn't be taken lightly. This is…this is stupid. It's just a notebook. Open it already.
You lean forward and do just that.
What you find is not at all what you expected. You expected something school related, maybe with some doodles in the margins. Instead you get pages and pages of what seems to be conversations. They're not all on the lines. The words and sentences are written all over, sideways, diagonally across the page, upside down.
John's handwriting is the most prominent, but there's others in there too. Sometimes he's talking with someone else, like writing notes in class. Other times it's just his hand writing, but he's obviously talking to someone else, they're just not writing it down in the same notebook. It's strange. You've never seen him writing notes in the classes you have with him. And your eyes often wander to him.
You flip through the pages, skimming the words on the pages. He's just as much of a dork as you thought he was, but he's a lot more talkative with his words. He writes a lot, about all sorts of things. You wonder why you've never heard him talk like this. You learn a little about what he likes and about the personalities of his friends. You learn that tonight is his movie night with his friends and while you're off playing a sport you hate, he'll be doing that. You learn that he's a crazy Nicolas Cage fan. And that he likes terrible movies.
Part of you feels guilty for the invasion of privacy, but the majority of you doesn't care. You're already sucked into his written world.
The notebook is only halfway full. You've made your decision before you even reach the end of what's written. When you reach the first blank page, you're already reaching for one of the pens on your desk. You pick a red one, because no one else has written in red in his notebook.
You're not sure why, but you want to leave your mark. You want him to know you exist and that you're not some dumb jock who wants to make his life hell. You want to make him smile like his friends do. It's stupid. It's totally stupid and you're not sure why you feel this way, but you do. There's no stopping it. Before you can begin to reconsider, you're already drawing. Too late now.
You draw several doodles of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, your own personal comic characters. You even write the url for your comic blog under one of them. You make fun of his love for Nicolas Cage. You draw a comic on the side of you both in your ironically bad comic style, you being the hero returning his notebook. You have a cape and he has a ridiculously pointy princess hat. You started out with a vague plan, but soon you were just doodling like you would on your own notes. You don't come out of your doodling daze until the page is completely full of your handwriting and drawings.
For a moment you start to panic, thinking that maybe this is a bad idea. Then you push that thought aside. Striders don't do regret. You sign the bottom right corner of the page with your name in as fancy cursive as you can manage. Then, under that, you write your chumhandle in very legible print. You stare at it. It was on a whim. You're not sure if he'll actually get the balls to message you. You don't think he will, but that doesn't stop you from trying.
Before you can think too much about that, you slam the notebook shut and shove it back into your bag.
Back to reality. You have a game to get ready for. Hopefully Dirk went to the grocery store and you can actually eat something before leaving. You get up and head toward the kitchen, leaving all thoughts of John Egbert behind.
Название: Dodge Fuski Silence Is Golden
Загрузил: Riots Revenge Music
Длительность: 2 мин и 16 сек
Битрейт: 192 Kbps
2.98 MB и длительностью 2 мин и 16 сек в формате mp3.
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