#in my territory all of these phrases are forbidden | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

superjumpintomyheart · 2 years

Note

North California but Nori asks what the fuck North California is and Callie doesn't know either apparently some Squid Sisters fan (who was also a huge history nerd) started calling them that and it just stuck

Oh yeah wonder how the public react to Nori and the rumors of her relationship with Callie

oh my god wait- i love this so much

(this ended up a little long im gonna cut it just for my own peace of mind enjoy some headcanons)

first off ppl are so excited to see callie going out so much in public just casually and squid sisters fans are like "yes please give us these crumbs of content our first new single in 5 years callie we love u"

then once they get over the fact that seeing callie in public isn't all that rare anymore they notice that she's hanging out with a very tall punk/goth octoling and everyone starts speculating 👀

i just know the tabloids would put out "callie's secret forbidden love?!?!? read more on pg. 5!" articles in their magazines and on the cover for clickbait but... irl.. what is tht called.... irl clickbait....

anyways its mostly the fans who are curious as to who this mysterious octoling is and how callie met her cause it's not someone who has previously been associated with her or the squid sisters yknow

many people are wondering if Nori is like a squid sisters fan that callie is interested in which makes all the celebrity crush bitches go crazy

most fans are genuinely really excited that callie seems so happy and when she's seen with nori clinging onto her arm or hand or touching her jacket the shippers are like "omg this is a huge hint they are absolutely dating" but like, they aren't trying to hide it or anything LMAO callie just doesn't talk to paparazzi

eventually callie would post something on inkstagram like a pic of her and nori together with a heart as the caption and then everyone goes on a deep dive to figure out who nori is, which leads them to finding out her name and basic info like that

someone opens like a discussion post on like... r/squidsisters (LOL im having so much fun with splatoon social media) and its a post like "what is the ship name of callie and her girlfriend nori?" and people in the comments go off about what they think is the best

until this one nerdy squid gets like 100k upvotes and 12 awards for commenting about ancient mammalian history, explaining the prehistoric territories of the "California" state and how they were often referred to as "North California" or "South California" but many people shortened "California" to just "Cali." Also, due to a famous human at the time having a child named "North" who they nicknamed "Nori" the elongated version of Nori(the octoling)'s name would be North, and Callie's could elongate to California and their ship name would be "North California" as a reference to the long gone region.

squid sisters fans take to this idea very well, they begin making ship edits, fanart, fanfics, etc for North California, enough to the point that Nori sees some of it one day

She asks callie what "North California" translates to in octarian, thinking its some kind of inkling phrase she doesn't understand, but callie is like "no babe i dont know what that is either uhh let me try looking it up"

so callie goes on the hunt and tracks down the original post where the comment was made explaining the idea behind the ship name and she thinks its really creative and cool!! she explains the whole thing to nori who is... mostly just confused.

"Ship name? Why are we named together? I am Nori, you are Callie, it is 'Nori and Callie' if we have names together, no?"

"Ship names are mostly for fans, they like to imagine people together so when they talk about them or post about them online it's like a way for them to easily find content I guess! usually they mash the two names together but in this case they got creative. It's just for fun, so apparently we're North California now!"

"Oh, our name for fun, North California. Weird, but I like it."

Nori posts later on her inkstagram thats a pic of her and callie and captions it something like "North California here." and the fans absolutely LOSE IT

"THEY KNOW ABOUT THEIR SHIP NAME?!?!?"

"who told the squid sister and her gf about their ship name"

"OMG North California CONFIRRMED??!?!?! IM SHAKING IN M Y BOOTS"

"i stopped my tableturf battle for this im witnessing history"

and callie comments like "the north to my Cali <3" and her and nori sit there cackling from reading all the fangirls replies

#splatoon ask #splatoon oc #splatoon 3 #splatoon #callie splatoon #squid sisters #octoling gf #nori octo gf #callie x nori #north california

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elizeebet-sobeck · 2 years

Text

⑆ || in which to think of me

Horizon: Forbidden West (spoilers). In which Aloy is awkward and useless and Kotallo likes his hair being played with. It’s tame and awkward and cute (for right now).

HOME. The concept isn’t one that Aloy has ever truly understood. Of course the meaning of the word is known to her, but mastering the use of the word doesn’t mean she truly understands the concept. The closest thing she can recall is the cabin she grows up in, alongside Rost, but even that falls short. She visits it once, after the victory in Meridian, if nothing more than to pay respect to her fallen mentor. The place is empty without his presence - as ornery and sharp as he can be at times - and she recalls the expression that GAIA has taught her, “home isn’t a place - it’s people.” Only upon her return to base, does this phrase begin to make sense. Unsurprisingly, she struggles to view the base as home, for all that it has the things she cares about - her gear, her mementos, even her people, so to speak. What begins with Varl and Erend continues until it encompasses others; Beta, Zo and Kotallo. The initial weeks with Kotallo are unlike those with the others - she can feel his lack of belief in her as they move through the Sky Clan territory. That same disbelief is present even through their takedown of the Tremortusk and only seems to lift as the wall to the Bulwark comes crashing down around them. By the time that the Kulrut is over and the wounded are accounted for, it’s all but vanished, replaced with a temperate respect. His insistence on accompanying her is met with argument, but falls on deaf ears. So they return to the base, making quicker time on the backs of striders, but still taking valuable days from her mission. Her plans to continue immediately are felled by the sudden change of weather - a problem that GAIA ensures her will come under control as AETHER begins to function properly. Her frustration is apparent, as her friends keep their distance from Aloy for the days that follow, until her mood no longer matches the flaming nature of her hair. The time allows her to upgrade armor and weaponry alike; to allow herself a moment to talk to those that are so intent to follow her into battle. Erend jokes more than once that the storm is GAIA’s way of forcing Aloy to enjoy herself, even briefly. GAIA denies the notion and despite her heuristic processing, Aloy is fairly certain that she can’t lie, even if she wished to. It’s during one of those days that Kotallo asks for her assistance - to help him acquire the pieces that GAIA has marked as suitable to build an arm for him; a “prosthetic,” she calls it. The fight with the Spectres leaves her more than exhausted, but the look on his face when he mentions a test; it’s the most excited she’s seen him look since their meeting. As dangerous and violent as the Scorcher is, it proves no match for them. Her confusion at his decision not to use the arm is only compounded by the brief look in his eye that she’s not sure she’s meant to see. Moreover, she’s not sure that she knows what to make of the warming sensation that grows in the pit of her stomach as she mulls it over. ——————— She’s been gone for several days, dealing with another rebel camp - enough for her to put such concerns about Kotallo out of her mind. It eases the stress she feels in not doing enough, at least for a moment. The dull ache of her impatience is temporarily quelled by the sound of Kotallo’s voice in her ear, clear as if he were standing right next to her. “Aloy? Would you be able to help me with something?” For a moment she has to steel herself, to focus on the words and not the drifting thought of how it might feel to have his breath against her ear as he says those words himself, not via the focus. As much as those thoughts may slow her reply, she still responds, “Of course, I’ll be right there once I’ve dropped my armor.” It takes some getting used to, the dressing in clothes of comfort rather than of purpose, but she’s taken to it - somewhat. The Carja silk is one of the few things she accepts before her disappearance from Meridian, finely woven and perfectly balanced to fit her form. The shirt sports the sleeveless nature that the Utaru and Oseram favor in their designs, hanging comfortably to rest just below her ribcage. The trousers though, are entirely Carja in design - pulled taut at the waist and ankles, but smooth flowing through the rest. Aloy detests the entire thing at first, until she finds that the touch of it to be most agreeable; that and the fact that the design allows her to still best Erend and Varl in hand to hand combat. Once changed, she moves with a comfortable ease that comes with knowing the layout of the base from memory, even the rooms that she doesn’t inhabit. Aloy holds her hand to the door, watching the lights whirr and change before they slide open to reveal Kotallo. He’s not as she’s ever seen him before though; gone are the blue, gray and white markings that adorn his skin, replaced instead with deeply tanned skin and intricate tattoos that weave a great story. She knows enough about the Tenakth to know that their ink is meant as a story - a history of one’s greatest moments, laid out on human skin. Of course, she can’t say that she’s ever seen Kotallo - or any Tenakth, really - without the paint. It feels almost … improper. Without thinking, she ducks her gaze, coughing uncomfortably, “I can come back later.” The laugh isn’t what she’s expecting, enough surprise to banish her embarrassment as she meets his gaze. The edges of his lips pull up ever so slightly and outside of battle, Aloy finds herself thinking that this may be the only time she’s ever seen him smile. “No, I … know this is not what you are used to, but it’s … what I require your assistance with.” There’s a pause as she tries to gather her thoughts, nodding as she swallows her confusion over the situation, followed quickly by the sound of doors closing behind her. Her steps are slow and tentative as she begins to focus on the items sitting in front of Kotallo, apprehension replaced now with curiosity and intrigue. Bowls of white and gray paint sit within arm’s reach, as well as a thin, sharp blade no more than the length of her forefinger. For a moment she’s merely focused on the items before realizing that she’s staring, not having asked what exactly she’s meant to be helping him with. His expression shifts back to the firm, resolute expression of strength that she’s used to, gesturing for her to sit before he begins to explain, “I … am unable to maintain my paint and hair on my own since-“ Kotallo trails off and looks at the remnant of his left arm before continuing, “It does not require maintenance more than every few weeks - the dye in the paint fades with time, but not immediately and the hair is easy enough.” Her expression must indicate her lack of understanding, prompting another ever so slight smile from him as he remarks, “When I remained with Hekarro, I was able to ask for assistance, but here it is … difficult.” There’s a moment’s pause before her eyes flash with understanding, though Aloy makes a point to speak, just to ensure she understands, “You need me to … paint you?” The phrasing makes her laugh, shaking her head as she quickly speaks again, “Sorry! Not laughing at you, just … it’d be a weird phrase in any other context.” After chuckling for a moment longer, she focuses, centering herself as she nods, “Of course, however I can help, Kotallo.” The niggling voice in the back of her mind is a mere whisper, but she can’t help but catch the train of thought, knowing that this is an excuse for her to touch him … Pushing herself to her feet, Aloy is quick to stand, but unsure of what to do next, gaze fixed on him as she watches him untie the bindings of his breastplate, pauldron already cast to the side. There’s an instinct to reach out to help, but she knows well enough by now to know to leave it be - Kotallo has never taken lightly to suggestions that he’s anything but fully capable. It isn’t as if she’s never seen him without his armor - to some degree, at least - but this is different and she finds herself fixed on watching him. Only at the sound of armor hitting the floor, is she drawn from her stupor, hoping that he hasn’t noticed. Thankfully he seems too fixated on removing the heavy fauld and underlying leather, to have noticed. As he stands up to allow the armor to fall away, she becomes acutely aware of the fact that the only thing covered his torso at this point is a layer of worn fabric that covers his lower body. Trying to push away her sudden shyness - something that she’s never been accused of before, she bites her lip gently before remarking, “So, how do I … start?” Kotallo sits back down, forearm resting against the table as he replies, “I have found that is most effective to deal with hair first, to prevent it from falling into wet paint.” It makes sense and Aloy nods, moving slowly to stand behind him, fingers nimbly undoing the tight braids that contain his dark hair. As they unravel, she finds herself fascinated by the softness of it - well maintained and looked after, despite being that of a seasoned warrior. Pulling the band loose, the locks fall around his scalp and she can’t help but chuckle, eyes dancing as he twists to look over his shoulder, expression puzzled, “Just … I’ve never seen you with your hair not tied up and it just looks so … luxurious.” Her tone is one of teasing and she can’t help but laugh again as he shakes his head, muttering softly, “Tenakth warriors can’t have luxurious hair?” Aloy bites back another laugh as she carefully works through any knots in the loose hair before she comments, “So … do I just tie it up and …” “Shave everything else away. The lines are meant to be sharp, or I might try it myself.” She nods, though it seems pointless, as he can’t see her. Either way, her hands move to gather the hair tightly, wrapping the band around it tightly to keep it together. Without saying anything, she reaches around him for the blade, trying not to shiver where her bare skin brushes against hers. This isn’t anything strange, she’s simply helping him with something he can’t do alone. The blade rests comfortably between her fingers and thumb; it’s not an action she does often, but a blade is a blade, no matter the use. Pressure is the difference between taking hair and taking scalp and there’s a part of her that recognizes that for anyone, such an exposed moment would be reserved for a treasured few. For the Tenakth; well, she can’t imagine that this is something that any of them would let someone else do, if not be necessity. It takes her a moment or two to get used to the motion, but as with most weapons, Aloy finds an ease in the motion, working down from the line of his hair to ensure it remains crisp. Only after the first few clean strokes, does she remark, “Kotallo …” “Yes, Aloy?” Even as her mind functions at a million miles a second, her hands remain steady, chewing the inside of her cheek for a second before she poses her question, “Why didn’t you ask Erend or Varl? Both of them have hair that requires maintenance.” The pause drags on so long that she almost thinks he won’t reply, but Kotallo’s voice is soft, firm but thoughtful - as if he contemplates each word before saying it, “For the Tenakth, our hair is … as much a part of our identity as our tattoos or paint.” He pauses and Aloy continues, leaning in close to catch a small patch she’s missed, finding herself momentarily swept up in the scent of his skin. She might have remained that way if it weren’t for the sound of his voice as he speaks again, “We wear our stories on our skin and to hide that behind hair would be …” The silence hangs between them, but she can tell he’s searching for the right word. “A lie.” Aloy steps away from him for a moment, only to dunk the blade in a bowl of water, running her finger along the edge to get rid of the errant hair before returning to her effort, shifting from her position behind him, over to the left side, starting the process again. “To allow another to assist in maintenance is akin to … helping ensure that we show our true face to the world. The same is true of our paint - trusting another to ensure that our stories are displayed truthfully; to tell our stories, no matter how difficult they may be.” Her movements stall for a moment, unsure of what to say and choosing not to say anything, worried about the words that might fall from her lips. Unlike Kotallo, her tongue has been known to move faster than her better judgment and in this moment, she’s not sure exactly what she might say, if she makes no attempt to temper it. He’s perceptive though and her hesitation is met with further commentary, “Aloy, you … have been a part of the most difficult story of my life. If anyone can be trusted to do this for me, it would be you.” Something like disappointment pools in her chest and it occurs to Aloy that maybe she’s hoping for a different answer; something other than just being trustworthy. Even so, she continues the task at hand, finalizing the last stroke of the blade before stepping back. As she does, Kotallo runs his hands over his scalp and she can hear the approval in his voice, “For someone with so much hair, Aloy, you do a fine job of removing it.” The joke makes her smile, even through the lingering feeling in her chest. Stepping around to lean against the table, she forces an expression of ease onto her face as she remarks, “So, how does this paint work?” Seemingly the expression on her face isn’t as convincing as she hopes, her gaze meeting Kotallo’s and finding apprehension that she isn’t anticipating. She blinks, mouth half open to say something - to tease him - before he cuts her off, “Aloy … if this is too much to ask of you, I will understand.” Once again, he reads the confusion from her expression. “You are young and I understand not wanting to be tied to anyone - least of all a one armed warrior. I assure you that this is … nothing that you need to concern yourself with.” His eyes close and he tips his chin up, hand loosening the band in his hair and running his fingers through it slowly as he continues, “My … thoughts of you will not change anything. I will follow you into battle wherever you ask of me, commander.” Any comments she has die in her throat as she tries to make sense of the mess inside her head. Alone, she might manage it, but the tingling in her skin is a convenient distraction that makes it impossible for her to sort things through. Instead, her words are a scrambled vomit of sound that halfway forms a sentence, “Think of me?” After a moment, his gaze returns to her and his head tips to the side, thoughtful expression giving nothing away before his lips turn up ever so slightly, “Yes; I think of you often. Mostly to relive the battles we have fought together, sometimes as my friend, but other times …” He glances down and away for a moment, “Other times those thoughts are … not those that I would share in front of the others. You- you have always been honest with me Aloy and I afford you the same, no matter what it will make you think of me.” Very few things in the world have the capacity for rendering her speechless, but this is certainly not something she’s ever entertained as happening. Her body feels as if she’s moving through tree sap, tied down and slow to move - slow to open her mouth to speak. It takes long enough that she can see the way his shoulders shift and he remarks quietly, “I understand. My apologies, commander.” It’s the sudden jolt of fear that jogs her from the slowness, desperation in her voice, “No, stop!” His eyes meet hers in a flash, tension ebbed into his whole being, like a scrapper, poised to charge on an unsuspecting enemy. She’s no enemy - though she can’t fault him for his hesitance; after all, she herself is unsure of what she wants in this moment. Aloy half expects him to falter, now that words fail her, but this is neither his first battle, nor - she imagines - the first time that a woman has behaved confusingly. Of course, maybe all Tenakth women (and men, in the vein of inclusivity) are more competent with their words; yet another weapon for them to master. Then again, she can’t imagine that they’re all as honed as Kotallo, so he simply watches her with a hunter’s gaze. Time seems to stand still until the words in her throat form the complex array of sounds needed to communicate, “I think of you too.” He doesn’t move a muscle, but there’s a curiosity in his expression that wasn’t there before. Her fingernails dig into the palms of her hands as she tries to steady herself, “Of the Bulwark and the Kulrut and the Tremortusk.” Aloy’s voice shakes, but her chin juts upward, almost in challenge, “I think of the Scorcher and the Spectres and …” Her tongue darts out to trail along her bottom lip, acutely aware of the dryness of her mouth, “And I think how I wouldn’t want to face them with anyone else.” She lets out a sharp breath that’s been weighing heavy in her chest, waiting for his reaction. His expression is unchanged, arm still resting against the table, “So you do not think of me in these … less than appropriate ways?” There’s a hint of something in his expression that reads almost as disappointment and she’s fairly certain if she weren’t so desperate to take it away, that she might shrink into herself and bolt from his room. As it is, the feeling in her gut screams for nothing more than for her to set things right - to prevent Kotallo’s face from falling any further. So she can only swallow, cheeks flushing as red as the roots of her hair as she replies, “Only because I … have no frame of reference.” Glancing up, the confusion is his now and if it weren’t for the intensity of the moment, she might laugh. Instead she reaches for the back of her neck, fingers kneading the muscle there out of habit - a nervous one no less - as she explains, “I’ve never been with anyone; like that.” She can’t bring herself to look at him as she continues, “I understand enough to know how babies occur and such …” Lord knows she understands the role of mothers, having never had one to speak of. “But I was an outcast and then when I became a Nora Brave, everything …” His voice is soft and firm, but comforting as he finishes her explanation, “Everything fell to the side while you became the Savior of Meridian.” When she looks up this time, almost to scold him that she never intended to make herself as such, she can see the faint smile on his lips, clearly taunting her. After a moment, she can’t help herself, smile playing across her own lips in return. Her arms cross over her chest, fixing him with a glare that doesn’t reach her eyes as she remarks, “So what then, marshal?” Only now does it draw him into moving, pushing off from the table and moving closer to Aloy. This time her gaze drops and she makes no effort to hide it, taking in the expanse of muscle of his shoulders and chest - the lines formed not only by ink but by work and hard earned victory. The distraction is enough that she doesn’t see him reach for her until his palm is pressed against her cheek, sliding around until his fingers are twisted into the braids in her hair. Such a position allows him enough leverage to tilt her face to meet him - though based on the sensation in her legs and the burning in her skin, she can’t imagine she’d object. His smile has twisted itself into a self-satisfied smirk, using his body to shift them both until her back is against the wall, crowded by his presence. Leaning in close, his lips hover dangerously close to hers as he chuckles - a sound that makes her knees weak and instills a fire in her belly that she’s never known before. His voice is softer than before, but with it comes authority and a command that reminds her that before this, he was Hekarro’s marshal. The stories told in his tattoos are a testament to his strength - the same strength that keeps her pinned against the wall, doing nothing more than trying to catch her breath as he murmurs, “If you let me, Aloy of the Nora, Champion of Meridian, huntress … I intend to give you very many inappropriate ways in which to think of me.”

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calicookie-collection · 10 months

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A poem I wrote about my old workplace.

Enjoy.

This place is like a prison.

Walls painted grey.

Standing in your little cell, leaving only when permitted. Leaving at any other time is forbidden.

Laughter and fun are prohibited. They don't like when you're happy. They want you to be miserable.

They watch from above. Offices beautifully furnished with mahogany desks, lavish carpets, comfy chairs, and fake plants. You aren't allowed in there. Knocking on the door makes them suspicious. "What do you want??" they ask in an accusatory tone. You see others like them walking down the hall, dressed in professional clothing, comfortable shoes, styled hair. You stare at them with wonder. They stare at you in disgust. How dare a floor worker encroach on their territory.

Loud noises piercing your skull like an ice pick made of sound, louder and louder until your head feels like it's about to explode. You can't take it. But you must.

Every minute of your time is tracked. It does not belong to you. It belongs to them. They frown on you being late, even if something outside caused it.

There is no escape, you are trapped. Never allowed to leave. You need this job to survive, for it pays a high end salary. Be grateful you have this job. Take as many extra hours as you can before they run out. The walls feel as though they are closing in on you from all sides. Claustrophobia.

Two-faces on each person you meet. Be careful. Watch your back. Words strike like knives dipped in searing hot flames. Stings. Cauterizing the wound before blood has a chance to fall. No evidence. How many wounds can your back take?

Smiling faces with hidden agendas. Keep your mouth shut. Don't give them ammo.

They shoot you. Wound you with sharp phrases and petty actions. You must be strong. Take it. Absorb it and let it go. Can you handle that? Don't shoot back. They will fire it back at you. Don't put up a defense.

Keep your head down, don't look up. Don't make eye contact.

They accuse you of things you've never done. Let them. No one listens to you. You are there as a punching bag, nothing more. What is your value? Do you have a name? Only when they want to drag it through mud. Otherwise, you are merely a number. A barcode. A string of digits amidst a vast digital ocean of others. You are lost.

Anxiety. You've hit a dead end. You'll never move up, you can only move around. Seniority determines your success. Do your time. It's only fair. Lower on the list equals more abuse. You've got 5 years? They have 20. Your efforts won't matter until you, too, have 20. You will waste your life here, always being at the bottom of the barrel, never making anything of yourself.

Pain. Mental and physical. Your mind carries bruises, hit over and over again. They never really heal. Your body is broken and swollen. You are tired. You want to rest. You can't. Their words hit you like whips. "Work harder" "you're not going fast enough" "stay in your area". They are angry when you cannot comply. They give you a letter and pull you into an office. The lecture comes and your file is tainted by the letter. Nothing you can do. It is done.

Exhaustion. Hopelessness. You are worn out. You can never keep up with the workload. You beg for help and they say no. You don't need it. They are offended when you ask. The work piles up, higher and higher. You are drowning with no life boat to be found. You need to learn to swim, or you will sink. Each choice has a different consequence. If you swim, the ocean will become deeper. Challenging you. Setting you up for an eventual failure. If you sink, you will be punished. Again. It becomes a never ending cycle.

The shift after you is unimpressed. How dare you leave them so much work? They try to dictate your work. When you refuse to take orders from them, they retaliate. They gather an army to make your life miserable. They succeed. There's nothing you can do.

Speaking up for yourself is out of the question. Do you really think they will take you seriously? They sneer down their noses at you. You bring an error to their attention and they react one of two ways. They tell you to go back and double check because you are clearly wrong, or they tell you they haven't been listening to a word you've said because they're too busy to deal with you.

You are low.

You are different.

You feel alone.

You must suffer through it.

You must listen to the judgement, negativity, cruel comments, stinging words.

You must listen to the accusations about your life, your choices, your money.

You must endure the disapproving looks, the smug faces, the "I'm better than you" attitudes.

You must listen to the cruel advice they give you because they think they know your story. You must listen to their criticisms and arrogance. It's rude to not respect your elders.

You must endure this torture.

Forever.

Because you have a family to support.

And you don't get a choice.

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scorpionwins · 3 years

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I don't think enough of you comprehend the VIBES of a Ghoulhead secret/forbidden relationship.

Malachai as a more deranged, twisted version of Romeo, who WON'T hesitate to stroll into Serpent territory after FP Jones locked Jug from him.

Malachai is a calamitous force who rips through their defenses, one bashed face and head and swing of a spiked bat at a time, until he's staring at nothing but FP Jones, the Serpent King himself.

They lock eyes, don't break contact, not even for a second. If Malachai is to have a staring contest with danger, danger will blink first. Snakes can bite and spit their venom, but death fears no man.

"Juggie called me," Malachai whispers, lips quirked in a crooked smile, wide, bloody, terrible. "Can he come out to play? I know he must miss me. We got awfully attached to one another."

The older man's face betrays no sentiment, not even a crack. " My boy is smart, but he doesn't make the best decisions sometimes. That's when I have to make them for him. "

" You don't trust him."

" I trust my son. I don't trust whatever sick, shady shit you filled his head with. That's why he's not here. "

Malachai hums, feigning thought. " Is he? Or is he not here because you know he'd choose me over you?" The silence grows, and Malachai's impatience grows with it. "I want you to know, that my boy's love for you is the only reason I don't paint this bat red.

The only reason why those pathetic little worms are knocked out, and not dead, is because they're important to Jug for some reason. You are, too. So don't make me walk all over you."

" If you want a fight, we can fight."

" I'm not going to, FP. I won. I won the minute I held your baby boy in my arms. But let me give you a friendly warning, now that we're family," something vicious flashes in his eyes when he says that. " You have my life in your hands. So give it back. Before I take yours."

He doesn't wait for a retort, a turn of phrase; He came, he wrecked shit, it didn't make sense to stay for more.

The ghoulie leader walks the bloody path he paved, whistleting a happy tune over the pained groans at his feet. The tall one, loud one, and pink one sneer at him as he does so. They all guard a trailer that seems surrounded. Good to know.

He doesn't turn around.

But the whole drive, Malachai keeps staring in the rear view mirror.

From the window of his trailer, Jughead meets his longing gaze, unknowing to either of them.

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thenamesblurrito · 3 years

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Another ask dump

y'all like talking to me and i appreciate it, have some answers, feat. voices of the Matrix, accidental references, photonic crystals, Underbite, types of relics, robot scuba gear, and pineapple pizza

(the post this is referring to)

FHFHGFHSJF an unintentional reference but i'll take it!

(the post this is referring to)

oh huh, yet another unintentional reference, totally forgot about that. there is cyberflora up in the city proper too, i realize i didn't phrase that well. but the stuff that junkers would be able to scavenge from would be the leylines, the wellsprings, the cyberflora growing in odd deep places where no one else has noticed them.

fshfshhsgdf thank you, he IS adorable! i even gave him a little schoolboy tie

you've found a neat little oddity here, actually, which is that it isn't Optimus who hears the former Matrix bearers, it's Orion! when he powers up into Optimus, he essentially absorbs-becomes-assimilates his relic, like shrugging on a selkie skin and becoming more than the sum of both parts. the former Matrix bearers are an aspect of what goes into creating Optimus, but it isn't exactly distinct, not ghosts or voices or guiding hands to direct his actions. no, it's Orion the youngling who hears them speak, or heckle really, gets a sense of who they are/were and what they want and feel and urge him to do. the Matrix is, fortunately, not a very autonomous relic, unlike some other ones with annoyingly strong, uh, personalities. it's not difficult to tune them out if he doesn't want to listen, but it can get irritating when he's trying to pay attention in class.

there are rare exceptions, however, occasions where Optimus encounters what lives within the depths of his relic...

not really, yeah. they EXIST, they're a form of information storage for Cybertronian neural networks and spark scans, as well as being integral material in medical life support systems and hotspot harvesting infrastructure. it's not the Matrix that produces them, however, and there isn't anything particularly supernatural about them. they're in the same general category of resources as sentio metallico, innermost, and rarified or super energon.

nope! that is definitely in the realm of "special talents"/outlier abilities that don't show up naturally in SNAP's storyline. at least, for the normal people. those with relics have plenty of weird abilities, and if Underbite was supernatural, that kind of power would practically be tame in comparison to some of the stuff the heroes do.

that said, there are some random one-off things people can do, just because sparks and thus frames have unique coding with sometimes unpredictable results. Swerve, for instance, discovers in Maccadam's class that he can identify different chemical compounds and materials by taste, with far more accuracy and nuance than the average mech. just a random thing! but hardly supernatural, which is def what increased strength and healing would be.

but perhaps... if things were different... Underbite would have that ability naturally? (side note but can you imagine trying to wrangle an ENTIRE ACADEMY of TEENAGERS with inbuilt abilities like eating anything or forcefields or freakin invisibility like. someone would die on day one just from a hallway fight.)

(the post this is referring to)

i mention it just a little bit here! the difference is more of a meta category than an in-universe term. in short, major relics are major pieces of power consolidated into a usable form, a relic, that will create such a strong bond with the user that they get an entire array of upgrades and powers, with the downside of being totally beholden to this one major relic and incapable of using another major relic (unless you are a loadbearer). minor relics are smaller pieces of power consolidated into a usable form, creating a less all-consuming bond with their users which means a very small set of minor powers and little to no upgrades, but capable of being used alongside other relics, even major ones.

the swords of the Elite Guard, for example, are all minor relics that came linked inside the major relic of the Enigma of Combination. the distinction between major and minor is a little more blurry than that, and some relics are right in the middling area of power that means they might behave as if in either category.

people in-universe don't really have this distinction aside from the mythology and tall tales about the magical tools wielded by the Knights of Cybertron. the Star Saber, for example, is so famous and well recorded that it's actually found a place as a name, like Star Saber the Academy teacher!

(the post this is referring to)

yknow what, you're right! there's definitely some sort of insertable/wearable seals. they wouldn't be permanent, and they'd certainly be bulky and uncomfortable, and some may actually require a medic to insert. they'd get in the way of ventilation, cramp joints, and rub against important lines and protoform. just sticking things into seams and under armor is actually incredibly uncomfortable to the point of triggering something called entrapment protocols, a panicked paralyzed state that can be debilitating if the physical intrusion causing it isn't removed.

because of how diverse and unique frames are, there's no standard seals, and some frames just have too much open space to actually seal, making swimming impossible. so, it comes down to 1) is your frame capable of being sealed, 2) is the discomfort worth it, and 3) can you actually get the seals put in place and removed afterward.

not so easy as putting on a bathing suit, huh.

as for murder via water, yeah! that's definitely a thing, that murderers do! but combat... there's not really combat, not like i believe you're thinking of. there's no war going on, there's no standing army so no drills or training, in fact combat and violence and weaponry in general are very much frowned upon under functionism. i'll quote the relevant part of that post here:

in stark contrast with the severe consequences the state carries out against those it deems wrong, society as a whole is kept very docile. Cybertron is a unified territory, so all of its citizens answer to the government of the Grand Architect. There is no standing army, nor indeed really any army at all, aside from the Enforcers. Violence is frowned upon, to the point where the most violent activity still tolerated is sports like boxing, and even that is considered barbaric. There is no weaponry, especially since mecha aren’t forged with inbuilt weaponry. Enforcers carry state-owned equipment with occasional access to genuine weaponry if facing a bigger target, but those are closely monitored to remain in their stations once their shift is over. Personal use is completely forbidden. More violent or pugilistic folks end up Enforcers, perpetuating the brutality and heavy control of the corps over the populace.

and as for Octopunch, not a clue! i don't remember him, and i don't have him on my character list, so while he might end up as a random background filler cameo, i don't have anything for him right now

afsgsjdjshwoisegf WHAT A QUESTION

Makeshift. Makeshift would adore pineapple pizza. Frenzy would like it, Rumble would HATE it. Predaking would tolerate it and Blackarachnia would pick off the pineapple but still eat the pizza.

Starscream would refuse to touch any pizza with pineapple on it, and Skywarp would eat some just to annoy him, even though he's not a particular fan of it. Thundercracker doesn't really care either way. Megatron likes it okay but avoids it so Starscream doesn't make a giant fuss about it. Blitzwing is disgusted but doesn't make a show of it. Nightracer will eat anything she can get her hands on, good or not, but she picks off the pineapple because Red Alert likes pineapple, and she wants to give them to her.

Ariel likes strawberry pizza better. Moonracer likes chocolate pizza better. Firestar thinks the both of them are heathens and won't eat pineapple pizza. Chromia doesn't like pineapple anyway. Arcee eats it just for the Experience.

Minimus doesn't personally care for it but maintains that anybody can eat whatever they'd like. Windblade doesn't like it and will publicly decry it. The two of them have probably debated over this a few times. Orion doesn't mind it and doesn't have any opinion about it, and is mostly baffled by the arguments over it. Hot Rod is a living vacuum and will c o n s u m e regardless of pineapple or not. Deadlock likes to gross anti-pineapple people out by messily eating it in front of them. Blurr doesn't like pizza very much, it's the tomato sauce.

#cybertron #optimus #autobot #orion pax #cybertronian biology #worldbuilding #underbite #students #swerve #knights of cybertron #elite guard #star saber #eukaris #functionism #ask dump

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rainydawgradioblog · 3 years

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RDR Essentials - Hip-Hop/R&B (4/21)

RDR Essentials is a weekly newsletter of alternating genres that outlines key releases of the past month, upcoming events around Seattle and happenings in the specified music genre.

Made in collaboration between Rainy Dawg DJs and the Music Director.

Releases:

Armand Hammer & The Alchemist - Haram

New York rap duo Armand Hammer have become known for their dreary, dense, and thought-provoking poetry, often paired with gloomy instrumentation and symbolic storytelling. Haram, the duo’s newest full-length album, marks billy woods and Elucid’s first collaboration with one producer for an entire record. The Alchemist lends his ear to the pair on this album, providing an eerie, haunting and emotive soundscape that still sounds like nothing the legendary producer has made in the past, pushing his own boundaries and proving that he is capable of evolution even after a career spanning two decades. Tracks like “Indian Summer” are laced with a menacing energy, while “Falling out the Sky” sounds almost summer-esque, like the sun peeking through an otherwise dark place, beginning with an abstract verse from Earl Sweatshirt, centered around mentions of the sky, space, and supernovas. This track starts a three-song run of the record’s only rap features, as well: “Wishing Bad” contains a furious verse from Curly Castro, transitioning with a more than menacing audio sample that forebodes in an echoing fashion: “There’s a lot of blood early on here”. This next track,“Chicharrones”, is one of the most fear-inducing beats the Alchemist has concocted thus far, and acts as an anger-fueled climax of the record. Quelle Chris delivers a seething verse, focusing on police brutality, not from a perspective of fear or sadness, but rather unrestrained rage, rife with references to George Orwell’s seminal Animal Farm but grounded in a clear disdain for the police. “If you off the pig/ Is you offin' pigs or offerin' figs?/ Oh, you big and bad?/ Blowin' hay and sticks, huffin' bricks” Quelle Chris chides in the chorus: “off the pig” likely refers to not eating pork as a convertee to Islam, in reference to the album’s title, “haram”, meaning “forbidden”, and the record’s stomach-churning cover art. The chorus seems to call out those who claim solidarity and yet “offer figs”, a phrase with roots in the biblical tale of Adam and Eve, who, in shame for their behavior, cover their genitals with fig leaves.

These guest features reinforce the record’s themes of drug abuse, class theory, racism, and the cultural ramifications of the “forbidden” in all its forms. Those who use the forbidden to cope, those who are able to get away with doing the forbidden, and everything in between seems to manifest within the record’s walls. As with every Armand Hammer release, however, it is the energy and poetry of these two MCs, seemingly almost psychically connected, that makes their staggeringly dense words so potent. At every turn, the two seem interlaced. Elucid brings invigoration to his verses, combined with sung choruses that sound as raw as can be, like on the solo track “Roaches Don’t Fly”, with soaring guitar riffs carrying an explosive verse (“My new name, colonizer’s can’t pronounce”) swelling to an enormous sung mantra: “You don’t gotta be here if you don’t wanna.” Elucid’s unique style of delivery often sees him, as many have noted, emphasizing unexpected syllables in his words, leaving his performances consistently engaging. Billy woods’ signature vignette-style storytelling and dry, dark humor are intact once again as well. The first verse of “Indian Summer” sees woods start a track as menacingly as one can (“I swore vengeance in the seventh grade/ Not on one man, the whole human race”), leading to a chilling tale of a man’s past in drug sales using a job cutting grass as cover, with detail to spare, painting a clear scene of “the stink of gas in the evening” and “the intoxication of counting cash in secret.” Highlight “Squeegee”, too, sees woods providing an unbelievable lesson in telling a full story in a short amount of time, chronicling a man’s attempt to turn his life around: eating healthy, working out before dawn, and barely smoking weed. Ultimately it’s all for naught, as paranoia takes over. He wonders if someone will follow him home, he wonders what his neighbors are doing, and it seems that old habits creep their way back in: ‘The taste in his mouth just like before.” It’s a chilling vignette, and undoubtedly one of woods’ best verses to date.

The album ends on an emotive high note; if “Chicharrones'' was the angry climax, “Stonefruit” is the album’s explosive and heart-wrenching finale. Elucid’s sorrowful chorus makes clear a turn inward, after an album focused so heavily on societal ills. “I don’t want to lose control” he repeats: “I’ve got so much left to undo.” Finally, billy woods delivers the album's most painful and emotive verse. Woods seemingly chronicles a rocky relationship perhaps interrupted by a sudden passing, a relationship filled with strife (“Said ‘OK’ to save face, but she never forgave”) that is yet anchored by an irrefutable love. The beautiful instrumental turns into a droning, and the euphoric emotional climax is once again drowned out by the ills it is surrounded by. This album is dense, difficult, and often a hard listen. But if one chooses to give it the attention it asks, it is more than rewarding enough, and once again proves billy woods, Elucid, and The Alchemist as three of the best artists we’ve ever seen.

- Casey Chamberlain

Kenny Mason - Angelic Hoodrat Supercut

Atlanta artist Kenny Mason is beginning to make a name for himself. After his impressive Angelic Hoodrat last year and a standout feature on Denzel Curry & Kenny Beats’ UNLOCKED 1.5 remix album, the 26 year old is back with a sequel project, Supercut, and continues to impress with his astounding mix of rock and rap. The project is a tightrope act that balances the genres, bringing trap beats, triplet flows, and bedroom guitar passages in equal measure. Rap cuts like the excellent “A+” featuring Denzel Curry see Kenny bringing technical flows and quick wit to the table, alongside standout “Much Money” which sees Freddie Gibbs making an appearance, bringing his signature swagger and Instagram-story quotables.

However, the most impressive aspects of the record are where things begin to change up, seeing Kenny swing more into rock and indie territory. “Play Ball” feels like a teenage anthem, accompanied by driving guitar riffs and bouncy drums and vocal mixing more reminiscent of a live performance at a house show than a recording booth. Opener “43”, too, immediately sets the tone, with a powerful sung chorus and heavy guitar rhythm and booming drums. Perhaps the biggest highlight, however, is the two-part “Pup”, which sees a low-key first half blend into a spacey and introspective second half. Not only is the production here at perhaps its most interesting of the record, combining gritty guitar and a pulsing trap beat, but Kenny’s songwriting stands out as well, with a strong emotive performance and personal lyrics highlighting insecurities. If there’s any critique to be had of this record, it would be that it most certainly feels like a part two of the first Angelic Hoodrat (in fact, the record’s title even makes it sound more like a deluxe than a separate album). Yet, Kenny’s style is most certainly exciting, reminiscent in equal measure of contemporaries across the musical spectrum, from Jean Dawson to JID. If refining his sound means putting out music as impressive as this, then Kenny Mason is on the right track, and is one to watch.

- Casey Chamberlain

Benny the Butcher & Harry Fraud - The Plugs I Met 2

Benny The Butcher has rocketed to heights previously unknown in the last year, with his full length project with Hit-Boy, Burden of Proof, being his biggest project yet, and seeing him steer into different sonic territory, moving away from the grimy Daringer and Alchemist production he had become known for on projects like Tana Talk 3. 2019’s The Plugs I Met was the epitome of that sound, and it’s perhaps inevitable that Benny would move past it at some point. Plugs I Met 2, however, feels like a marriage of those two sounds, sounding like a true sequel to the first project while still pushing into new territory and incorporating bigger features. There’s nothing as grimy here as the first album’s “Sunday School” or “Dirty Harry”, but tracks like “When Tony Met Sosa” and “Plug Talk” carry that same energy.

Highlights include “Overall” featuring Chinx, where the production feels like a brilliant mix of the street sounds and the lavish flashiness of Benny’s wordplay, alongside heavy drum kicks and incredibly dense production. Harry Fraud produced every track on the project, and this consistency shines. Each track sounds different from the last, but they fit neatly together. Even the tracks that tone down the energy feel just as lyrically impressive, such as “Live By It.” The features are mostly standout as well, with guest verse from 2 Chainz, Rick Hyde, and more. Overall, this is a solid project and logical sequel to the first Plugs I Met. Those who miss Benny’s grimy, TT3-era sound may be disappointed not to hear it return on every track here, but for those who remain impressed by Benny’s newfound flexibility, Plugs I Met 2 will no doubt remain a worthwhile addition to the Griselda catalog.

- Casey Chamberlain

Denzel Curry & Kenny Beats - UNLOCKED 1.5

Not content with waiting for the already-announced sequel to release, Kenny Beats and Denzel Curry return with a batch of remixes of tracks from last year’s excellent UNLOCKED with UNLOCKED 1.5. Featuring guest production and verses, this collection feels less like a full project on its own and more of a playful invitation to collaborators to make something brand new out of an already energetic album. The original UNLOCKED made clear its influence from MF DOOM, Madlib, and a host of others, seeing Kenny Beats branch out into new, cartoony territory and seeing Denzel Curry flex his lyrical prowess on a non-stop barrage of high-octane tracks. 1.5, in comparison, takes many of those rambunctious verses and places them over entirely new production. Standout “So.Incredible.pkg”, with production by the great Robert Glasper brings a jazzy and laid back energy, where Denzel still feels right at home, followed by an excellent and sly verse from Smino. “Cosmic.m4a [The Alchemist Version]” brings in the legendary producer for a brand new beat with beating drums and piano passages, alongside a vengeful, if not far too short, verse from Joey Bada$$. “Pyro” sees bouncy new production from Sango, with a witty and childlike feature from Kenny Mason. The highlight, however, has to be “DIET_” which, as the standout of the original project, with Denzel’s ferocious and guttural delivery inspired by the late DMX now enhanced by an effortless verse from Benny the Butcher, marking an unlikely but incredibly fulfilling appearance. The original UNLOCKED was a lighthearted project that showcased the talent of Denzel and Kenny Beats. 1.5, while not necessarily a fulfilling EP taken on its own, is something of a victory lap for the duo and their friends, a fun counterpart to the original project and a flexing of creative muscles.

- Casey Chamberlain

AG Club - Fuck Your Expectations PT. 1

When AG Club titled this album “Fuck Your Expectations”, they meant it. Fans, like me, who became hooked on AG Club after their debut melodic rap masterpiece Halfway Off the Porch, have been patiently awaiting a completed “Fuck Your Expectations” since its anticipated debut date in the summer of 2020. After months of waiting, with a few eclectic singles sprinkled in, AG Club decided to fuck our expectations once again by only giving fans part one, released April 2nd, with part two expected (I’m hesitant to use this word) on April 30th. Although it’s not the drop fans were expecting, it’s more than enough to tide us over. AG Club, now only composed of Jody Fontaine and Baby Boy on vocals, brings a fresh and exciting energy on this album that is more comparable to their early singles, like “Holy Shit” or “Ay, G”, than it is to their last full release. Tracks like “NOHO”, composed solely of bass and percussion, and “Columbia”, which features a blaring horn like they just brought the cavalry out, are the album’s “bangers”. AG Club hasn’t settled - they still have chips on their shoulders - and these songs prove that. To round the album out and further their pattern of genre-warping, tracks like “HOT PINK” and “A Bitch Curious” mix R&B, indie pop and rap to produce a completely new sound for the group. And just when you thought your expectations were certifiably fucked, the “A Bitch Curious” instrumental suddenly morphs into an EDM beat around three minutes in. Although it’s filled with an absurd amount of interludes for a nine track album, this project will still leave you saying: “Thank you AG Club, may I have another?”

- Charlie Darnall

BROCKHAMPTON - ROADRUNNER: NEW LIGHT, NEW MACHINE

The visuals for BROCKHAMPTON’s latest record say a lot about it. The video for “BUZZCUT”, the album’s opener, is a glorious clusterfuck of outdated animation and strobing color. On Spotify, every song is accompanied by a video of each vocalist’s face slowly morphing into the next. The self-proclaimed boy band’s visuals, although abrasive at first, are full of depth; every scene in a video or clip has spot on color pallets, an energy that accurately mirrors the song and an attention grabbing theme. And ROADRUNNER is equally as dense. Sonically, the album can range from the aggressive, east coast rap inspired “BANKROLL” to the all acapella, gospel inspired “DEAR LORD”. Between these polar opposites, lie eleven eclectic, constantly morphing tracks. “WINDOWS” is an eerie, acoustic laced song about all the boys being “outside your window” (oh no!) Following it, however, is the accessible and breezy R&B/pop track “I’LL TAKE YOU ON” featuring the legendary Charlie Wilson. “DON’T SHOOT UP THE PARTY” contrasts a beat that could send an Ibiza nightclub into a frenzy with passionate lyrics about racial injustice and the media and government’s inability to condemn white mass shooters. In the spirit of a “new light”, BROCKHAMPTON decided to include features on this album - a first time for the boy band. In both popularity and sound, these features are equally as eclectic. Features range from industry titans, like A$AP Rocky, to smaller, indie pop artists like Baird. Amongst the album’s themes of religion, hedonism and new beginnings, you will find density, both instrumentally and lyrically.

- Charlie Darnall

Young Stoner Life - Slime Language 2

The second installment of Young Thug’s Slime Language series is undeniably essential. Young Thug and Gunna together are arguably two of the biggest figures in rap right now. Do you have a cousin or sibling in middle or high school? What about a friend in a fraternity? I’ll bet you $100 they’ve both heard a Young Thug or Gunna song in the past week. Both these Atlanta artists have transcended your average rap fan; their songs might be on your dad’s favorite radio station. And I think they’ve realized that. Out of the many things this album succeeds in, its greatest accomplishment is playing into the popularity its creators have achieved. Features include Drake, Lil Baby, Lil Uzi Vert, Travi$ Scott, Skepta, Kid Cudi and even the controversial YNW Melly. The beats are accessible and lend themselves to millions of streams. Tracks such as “I Like” and “Trance” model the more melodic side of Travi$ Scott’s sound with a low tempo and spacey synths. “That Go!” sounds like Playboi Carti had a beat to spare after finishing Whole Lotta Red. In terms of lyrics, there isn’t much to say. Gunna and Young Thug are still two of the biggest rappers alive, they’re still quite wealthy and they’ve made sure to mention that, although their lines seem to prioritize memorability. Every song is either hard enough to make a JV basketball team go nuts, melodic enough for late night drive or bouncy enough to make your mom go “oh, this is fun!” The album plays on many established themes and styles, but I asked myself two questions after I first listened and these are the answers I came to: Is it trying to be popular? Yes. Is that necessarily a bad thing? No.

- Charlie Darnall

Upcoming Releases:

MIKE- Disco! (6/21)

New York rapper MIKE has released a steady stream of incredible, personal, and beautiful records over the past few years, and it seems he is gearing up to release another project, titled Disco! this June. The rapper’s raw delivery and soulful production has brought him to the forefront of the burgeoning abstract hip-hop scene, and projects like 2019’s Tears of Joy and the seminal May God Bless Your Hustle have garnered not only critical acclaim but a fanbase of passionate fans. The lead single for the project, “Evil Eye” provides a gorgeous sample and instrumentation and a short but sweet verse, and is a perfect taste of what is sure to be another personal and important record from one of the best rappers currently working. Disco! arrives June 21st on MIKE’s label 10k.

- Casey Chamberlain

Paris Texas - “BOY ANONYMOUS” (5/14)

Compton-based duo Paris Texas have announced their debut EP, BOY ANONYMOUS. The group has made a splash with the project’s lead singles after dropping the explosive “HEAVY METAL” earlier this year. The group mixes rock and rap, and brings a ferocious energy to their music while staying introspective. The group’s name comes from the 1984 movie of the same title, often cited as Kurt Cobain’s favorite film. The duo has released two other tracks prior to the project’s release, “FORCE OF HABIT” and “SITUATIONS.” The eight-track EP is out May 14th.

- Casey Chamberlain

#rainy dawg radio #paris texas #mike #young stoner life #ysl #ag club #denzel curry #kenny beats #benny the butcher #harry fraud #kenny mason #armand hammer #the alchemist

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walkthroughtheword · 3 years

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Reading for August 21st Judges 17 & 18 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN We are now off the southern coast and back in the hill country to the east and north. This story is made possible by the collective failing to maintain the theological boundaries set forth by God. The bottom line is that Judaism (and later Christianity) must be served straight. If you morph other things into it, it becomes something else entirely and that something else is never good. The key phrase is “In those days Israel had no king; all the people did whatever seemed right in their own eyes.” This story is the author’s continued case for a monarchy and a unified Israel. Things are so bad, there is a belief that God’s blessing comes not from strict obedience to God but God’s blessing is for hire. This story provides a “pulling” thread from which the rest of Judges will unravel. V. 1-2 The mother of a man named Micah from Ephraim heard his mother curse the person who stole 1,100 pieces of silver from her There are three ways we can try to get a today’s dollars value of what was stolen. The first is we can deduct that around 10 pieces of silver was an annual living wage and Micah stole 1,000 pieces, so we can deduce that in today’s dollars he stole about half a million dollars. The other method is that silver today sell for $4,230 per pound and the Hebrew says about 28 pounds were stolen which would come to about $118,440. The final approach, and probably the most responsible, is to admit that we have no idea how to determine how much was stolen in today’s dollars. Here is the deal, no matter how you slice it, Micah stole a lot of money. Micah’s name means “who is like Yahweh” which clearly recalls the historical God of Israel but since Micah’s faith, father or family ties are not mentioned we can imply that he is a bit of a free agent, unaffiliated; a man without a conscience, a God or a tribe. This is a guy who steals big bucks from his mom. The curse mentioned here is technically on the silver, not the thief. Regardless, he apparently didn’t want cursed money so he returned it to his mother, not because he stole it and felt badly but because it was cursed and who would want money with a hex on it? He gave them back and she blessed him for admitting his crime V. 3-4 So she dedicated the money to God and had an image carved and an idol cast and placed them in their home It is clear from the Hebrew that this idol is one object, not two. The best I can tell, the curse of the mother has to be removed from the silver so she pledges it to God by turning part of it into the very sort of graven image forbidden in the Second Commandment. Worship has been perverted into idolatry and is being conducted in the name of God. This thing is a mess. So here is the best sense I can make of the story by weaving together the translations and insights of people far smarter than me. It appears that Micah’s family maintained a shrine that was the worship place for the extended family or the region. Shrines were sacred sites, usually on high places, and the idols who comprised them were shaped by local artisans who generally made wood carvings and then plated over them with precious metal. Most of these idols that archeologists have recovered were quite small but they were objects of worship and would have been quite valuable for both their assumed powers, workmanship and precious metal content. Yahweh had been reduced to a god in a collection of gods, a piece of art in an art collection that was open for public display provided you bought a ticket. This would be seen by the God who said, “Thou shall have no other gods before me, beside me or behind me” as an absolute abomination, even and especially if some of the idols were of him! V. 5 Micah set up a shrine and installed his son as a priest If you maintained an ancient idol stand, you must constantly be upgrading your collection so paying customers didn’t lose interest. It is sort of like a theme park today with a new ride being introduced every couple of years. This new idol was the most valuable of the collection and would be seen to hold extra power as people prayed to it for fertility on one hand and to avoid calamity on the other. With its addition would be increased business so the thief Micah, not Yahweh, ordained his son a priest. We have no indication his son is called, believes in Yahweh, has any leadership ability, possesses any spiritual sensitivity or has any special training. My guess if that this kid didn’t know which side of a sheep was up, couldn’t find work so his dad bought a church and made him a preacher. Being a priest is something your son who can’t find better work does and Micah is a Bishop because he can afford the idols. How do you get away with such things? V. 6 In those days Israel had no king and everyone did what was right in their own eyes With no leader to unite them and no mission to guide them, every individual in Israel become their own god. As it turned out a wanderlust stricken Levite (Priestly tribe) from Bethlehem was on a walk-about and Micah offered him a job. You must remember that Judah, the region containing Jerusalem and Bethlehem, was the most righteous area in Israel and this is a man leaving the righteous in search of a destiny apart from God. Levites were the tribe chosen to be priests and this clearly seemed like an upgrade, so Micah kicked his son to the curb. The Levite accepted and essentially joined the extended family and now Micah could add a real Levite priest to his pagan shrine dedicated to Yahweh! CHAPTER EIGHTEEN About the time the Levite gets settled in, some warriors from the migrating tribe of Dan showed up. When their scouts settled upon an attractive but vulnerable city to attack, they sent in 600 warriors and camped in Micah’s region of Ephraim. Micah’s Levite rent-a-priest blessed them and when they heard about Micah’s shrine, they decided they needed all the luck they could get for their conquest so they stole all the idols and offered the Levite a better contract if he would come with them. When Micah discovered what had happened he pursued but the army told him to chill lest they have to kill him; out manned and out gunned, he went home. The Danites took the city of Lacish and renamed it Dan. Note on the map, the original allotment to the Tribe of Dan on the southwest coast and the new land claimed to the extreme north east. Dan will leave the coast to the Philistines in disgrace and resettle in a well-watered and contested territory north and east of the Sea of Galilee. The modern Syrian, Lebanese and Israeli borders all intersect this territory. In this tale, the idolatry of the Tribe of Dan and Micah are tied together to illustrate the political results of apostacy. Do things the wrong way, get the wrong results. The chapter ends with the installation of a pagan shire as a tribal worship center. Terrible.

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yourfaveisyanderematic · 4 years

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Could I request yandere Trish with a stand user bodygaurd making them share a bed with her for "" protection""

It’s been a long day.

A change of clothes later, and you’re still finding blood in odd and random places--soaked in the lining of your shoes, staining your arms at the elbow, droplets caked in the roots of your hair—really, you’ll need a shower to completely purge the memory of the bloodbath you enacted. Your Stand was powerful, but it was messy in a way that laid bare your savagery and made it impossible to get anyone else to work with you. Every time the Don sent you and his precious daughter on a mission, you were required to act as protector and attack dog both, with Trish as your civilizing force. When you called upon the brutal power of your Stand, it terrorized everyone who survived seeing it in action…and impressed them just as greatly, when they saw the ease with which Trish reigned you in.

At first, you didn’t understand why someone with power as vulgar as yours had been assigned to protect her, but now you could appreciate the twisted logic of it all—each mission hardened the little princess’ stomach that much more, made her more willing to put you to work as her own personal executioner. She had a throne waiting for her, after all, and the steps leading to it were drenched in blood.

Blood…yes, blood. The stench of it doesn’t dominate the air anymore, now that you were in the cushy hotel suite and the only red in your surroundings was the velvet trim and flowers in the wallpaper, but there are lingering traces of it all the same, and for the life of you you can’t figure out where they’re coming from.

The door next to you opens, interrupting your thoughts. Trish walks out in a haze of steam as she towels her hair dry, the lack of makeup and expensive suits making her seem strange in a way you can’t put your finger on.

It’s not until she finishes changing into her nightwear—with you pointedly looking away, of course, you’re not that much of a beast—that you realize what it is: she actually looks her age. It’s an occurrence that’s becoming rarer and rarer the longer you’re with her.

Trish turns to look up at you and immediately wrinkles her nose.

“I thought that might be you. You stink,” she says. You smile indulgently in return.

“All in a day’s work, Miss Una. Was there anything else you needed me for?” You can already feel it. The hot blast of water soothing the ache from your muscles, the strong soap you’ll use to scrub every inch of you clean, and when you slide between your sheets you’ll be as clean and blameless as anyone else in this city. You’ve become a crane-wife in reverse, threading feathers through your skin to become a beast only to tear them out again at the end of the day. You can’t wait to be a person again, your humanity tucked out of sight before it can be mistaken for weakness.

Except that Trish is still looking at you, head cocked in that way you’ve learned to recognize from watching her stare at little trays full of treats. Want, naked and hungry, but it would break decorum to simply reach out and grab, and she needs a moment to work out the way to phrase her request.

“Leaving me here?” She asks, “by myself? You’re an awful bodyguard. What about protection? How am I supposed to have that if you’re gone?”

You raise an eyebrow at her. The lie is barely worth humoring—there are no Stand users in this city, not anymore, the two of you had made sure of that this very afternoon. Who would dare try to touch her, after all that? Who would dare try to touch her at all?

Your master has spoken. You ignore the ache deep in the bones of your feet, renewing their protests as your body realizes it won’t be resting anytime soon, and you move to sit in the plush armchair near the door.

A hand yanks around your arm, pulling you back. You’re not taken off balance—you’re too disciplined—but you do hesitate, looking down at her in obvious confusion.

“I didn’t say you weren’t resting,” she says slowly, as if it was patently obvious and you were missing the point to be obstinate, “you just have to stay with me. For protection.”

“For…protection,” you repeat dully, trying not to imagine what would happen to you if anyone found out about this, “but of course. Then I’ll—“

“Undress? Yes, I’d hope so. You’re not coming to bed wearing all that.” she finishes for you.

You stare, and then you try very hard not to imagine what would happen to you if anyone found out about this. If a blush is heating your cheeks, Trish is polite enough not to point it out.

It was okay, right? If she was the one who told you to do it, and you were just following orders…it wasn’t wrong to obey her, right? You weren’t allowed to do anything else.

Your hands fumble at the buttons of your suit, shrugging the jacket off and then undoing each button one by one. Trish rolls her eyes again and pointedly turns her head away, a courtesy you can’t help but thank her for, even though she could easily choose to not make you do this at all. You hesitate again at the waistband of your pants, and look helplessly to her as if to ask: is this enough?

No such answer is forthcoming: she simply huffs, clearly impatient to go to bed. You shed your slacks, step out of your shoes and socks, and hesitate yet again at the edge of the bed. If you weren’t terrified, you’d laugh at the absurdity of the situation—only months ago did you rankle at being beckoned to and fro like a dog, and now someone’s bed felt too much like forbidden territory to intrude upon. You’d almost rather sleep on the floor.

She sighs, yet again, but there’s a strange emotion to it this time, one that’s difficult to place. Trish runs her hands up your forearms, brushing against your skin, and then finally takes both your upper arms in her grip, pulling you over embroidered sheets and fluffy pillows until you’re nestled next to her.

If you’re going to die of a heart attack, you’d better do it now. Her skin is warm and smooth and very, very bare, and she’s entangled your legs in hers, and her head is resting against your breast, where she can hear the frantic thrum of your heart. You’ve held her closer than this before, but that was with both of you fully clothed and in the heat of battle, so. Totally different. The difference of course being that nobody would argue that you weren’t doing your job then; nobody would argue that you were doing your job now.

You needed to stop thinking about this. Fortunately, Trish picked this moment to be a supremely unhelpful distraction, tracing patterns around the dip of her clavicle with one hand. You focused on the motion, if only so you would stop focusing on the softness of something else pressed against your ribs.

“Say a bunch of men with guns kick down that door, right now, and attacked you,” she murmurs suddenly, almost lightly, “what would you do?”

The scenario is absolutely ridiculous. Nobody would make it this close to her with guns alone—simply fighting their way up to you would give you more than enough time to get dressed and get out. You humor her, though, because that’s what you do.

“I’d shield you with my body and move you to cover, where I would then escort you to the exit point.” The answer is mechanical and practiced. You could give it in your sleep, and you’re pretty sure you have.

She giggles. “Liar. You’d tear them apart where they stood. And then you’d go back and kill the rest of my detail, for letting them up.”

A laugh huffs out of you, lightening the moment. “Alright. Yes. But that’s not really the right answer.”

“Everyone knows it’s what you’d do.” She grins, still tracing circles along the light blue webbing of your veins. “But okay. What if…what if I attacked you? What would you do then?”

That one took a little more thought. “It would depend on whether it was a reprimand, or if you were actually trying to kill me” you say at last. “I think I can safely assume that you wouldn’t try to kill me unless you were being controlled by something.”

She pulls a little closer into you, pressing a little harder on the skin over your heart. “You’re right,” she says at last, “I’d never do that to you.”

Her finger dips lower still, tracing circles around the pocked scars of bullet wounds across your chest and the spot where your heart beats strongest. At last, she speaks.

“What if I told you to kill Daddy for me?” This isn’t a hypothetical. There’s a tremor in her voice, as if she’s almost dreading your answer, as if something very real is riding on what you say next. “What would you do, then?”

Your heart jumps into your throat. Your breath, traitorously, stutters as you consider the question. Is this some kind of test? You try to anticipate the kind of answer she must be looking for—the earnest truth? The calculated, political answer? The passionate defense? The helpless trust?—but eventually, what comes out of your mouth is:

“Are you afraid of your father, Trish?”

Her nails dig into the skin of your chest, painfully now, and belatedly you realize that the hammering of a frantic heartbeat you’d been hearing wasn’t yours—it was hers. You stutter out a follow-up, perhaps trying to recant, to reassure her that you’re on her side without explicitly speaking against your employer.

“M—Trish. I know he can be brutal and cruel to everyone else, but he’s leaving his legacy to you. There’s no reason for you to think—he wouldn’t want you to—“

Trish’s body twists and shifts, and suddenly there’s weight on top of you, making you sink into the plush bedsheets. She’s on top of you, straddling your waist, hands over your shoulders as her eyes glare into yours, looking for something but not finding it. Her jaw works, chewing up the words she was about to say.

“I—“ you begin, but she cuts you off.

“I don’t care what he wants,” she whispers, and you have to strain to catch every word, “Not about you. He doesn’t care about you. Don’t you get it? He just wants to use you to keep me safe, and he’ll take you away from me if he thinks he needs to—once he decides you’re too broken to be with me anymore, or just a bad influence, and then he’ll give me another bodyguard and say they’re just as good.”

Her grip on you tightens, painful now, as if you’ll disappear if she doesn’t cling to you hard enough.

“It doesn’t matter what I want!” her voice is choked now, horrible and raw in a way that makes you instinctively want to soothe her, but you can’t—not when you’re the source of her pain. “Not when it’s you! You’re supposed to be mine!”

She’s going to hurt herself if she clutches at you any harder. You gently rest your hands on her white knuckles, shaking her grip loose and pulling her hands away from the crescent shaped cuts she’s left on your skin.

“I am yours, Trish,” you murmur, even though it’s clearly not really your decision to make, “Remember? Until you’re ready to let me go.”

Her burst of manic energy has run its course, because she’s slumping now, not only out of relief but also because of renewed fatigue.

“I won’t ever do that,” she promises you, drowsily, as she nestles back in beside you. “Not ever.” And she means it—she’d tear down everything her father built with her own hands, if it meant she could hold onto you.

You can still feel where her fingernails cut into you.

#by me #yandere trish #yandere x reader #hm. Gotta say I'm not quite vibing with this one but I gotta post for my prompt SOMETIME this year lmao #might revisit this if only because I am #mmmmmmmmm all over Bodyguard!SO for Trish #there was gonna be more spicy content to this but I cut it for length :pensive:#Anonymous

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christianstevefinnell · 3 years

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A DIFFERENT LOOK AT THE INQUISITION --GEORGE L. FAULL, REL. D.

IN ZURICH SWITZERLAND, ON JANUARY 18TH, 1525 AN ORDER WAS GIVEN BY THE ZURICH COUNCIL THAT ALL INFANTS MUST BE BAPTIZED WITHIN 8 DAYS OF BIRTH. THOSE NOT COMPLIANT TO THIS RULING WOULD BE BANISHED FROM ZURICH. ON JANUARY 21ST, ALL OPPONENTS OF THIS DECREE WERE NOT ALLOWED TO MEET OR SPEAK IN PUBLIC.

THIS LED TO MARTYRDOM AND MANY OF THOSE WHO WERE MARTYRED WERE ANABAPTIST. AN ANABAPTIST IS NOT SPEAKING OF THOSE CALLED BAPTISTS TODAY. THEY WERE A PEOPLE WHO WERE NICKNAMED “ANABAPTIST”. THIS COMES FROM THE GREEK WHICH MEANS “OVER AGAIN” AND “BAPTISM”. SO AN ANABAPTIST IS “ONE WHO BAPTIZES AGAIN!” THEY DID NOT CONSIDER INFANT BAPTISM OR SPRINKLING A RECOGNIZED BAPTISM, SO THEY DID NOT CONSIDER BELIEVER-BAPTISM A REBAPTISM SO THEY REJECTED THE NICKNAME.

IN MARCH OF 1525, THIS ORDER WAS GIVEN: “YOU KNOW WITHOUT DOUBT, AND HAVE HEARD FROM MANY THAT FOR A LONG TIME, SOME PECULIAR MEN, WHO IMAGINE THAT THEY ARE LEARNED, HAVE COME FORWARD ASTONISHINGLY, AND WITHOUT ANY EVIDENCE OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURES, GIVEN AS A PRETEXT BY SIMPLE AND PIOUS MEN, HAVE PREACHED, AND WITHOUT THE PERMISSION AND CONSENT OF THE CHURCH, HAVE PROCLAIMED THAT INFANT BAPTISM DID NOT PROCEED FROM GOD, BUT FROM THE DEVIL, AND, THEREFORE, OUGHT NOT TO BE PRACTICED… WE, THEREFORE, ORDAIN AND REQUIRE THAT HEREAFTER ALL MEN, WOMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS FORSAKE REBAPTISM, AND SHALL NOT MAKE USE OF IT HEREAFTER, AND SHALL LET INFANTS BE BAPTIZED; WHOEVER SHALL ACT CONTRARY TO THIS PUBLIC EDICT SHALL BE FINED FOR EVERY OFFENSE, ONE MARK; AND IF ANY BE DISOBEDIENT AND STUBBORN THEY SHALL BE TREATED WITH SEVERITY; FOR, THE OBEDIENT WE WILL PROTECT; THE DISOBEDIENT WE WILL PUNISH ACCORDING TO HIS DESERTS, WITHOUT FAIL; BY THIS ALL ARE TO CONDUCT THEMSELVES. ALL THIS WE CONFIRM BY THIS PUBLIC DOCUMENT, STAMPED WITH THE SEAL OF OUR CITY, AND GIVEN ON ST. ANDREW’S DAY, A. D., 1525.”

RESULTS: FELIX MANZ, HENRY REIMAN, JACOB FALK WERE DROWNED. DECEMBER 1527 THEY WERE TOLD, “HE WHO IMMERSED SHALL BE IMMERSED”. A TOWNSMAN SAID, “THEY LIKE IMMERSION, SO LET US IMMERSE THEM”.

BALTHASAR HOBMAIER SAID, “THE COMMAND IS TO BAPTIZE THOSE WHO BELIEVE, TO BAPTIZE THOSE WHO DO NOT BELIEVE, THEREFORE IS FORBIDDEN. HE WAS IMPRISONED AND LATER WHEN HE WAS SUPPOSED TO RECANT INSTEAD HE SHOUTED, “INFANT BAPTISM IS NOT OF GOD AND MEN MUST BE BAPTIZED BY FAITH IN CHRIST. I HAVE NEVER TAUGHT ANABAPTISM…BUT THE RIGHT BAPTISM OF CHRIST, WHICH IS PRECEDED BY TEACHING AND ORAL CONFESSION OF FAITH, I TEACH, AND SAY THAT INFANT BAPTISM IS A ROBBERY OF THE RIGHT BAPTISM OF CHRIST.” ON MARCH 10TH, 1528 IN VIENNA, HE WAS BURNED AT THE STAKE AND 8 DAYS LATER, HIS WIFE WAS DROWNED.

NOT ONLY IN ZURICH AND VIENNA WAS THIS PERSECUTION AGAINST THOSE WHO WERE FOR IMMERSION AND AGAINST INFANT BAPTISM PRACTICED BUT AT ST. GALL, SWITZERLAND THEY ISSUED THIS DECREE – SEPTEMBER 9TH, 1527: “IN ORDER THAT THE DANGEROUS, WICKED, TURBULENT AND SEDITIOUS SECT OF THE BAPTISTS MAY BE ERADICATED, WE HAVE THUS DECREED: IF ANYONE IS SUSPECTED OF REBAPTISM, HE IS TO BE WARNED BY THE MAGISTRACY TO LEAVE THE TERRITORY UNDER PENALTY OF THE DESIGNATED PUNISHMENT [TO BE DROWNED]. EVERY PERSON IS OBLIGED TO REPORT THOSE FAVORABLE TO REBAPTISM. WHOEVER SHALL NOT COMPLY WITH THIS ORDINANCE IS LIABLE TO PUNISHMENT ACCORDING TO THE SENTENCE OF THE MAGISTRACY. TEACHERS OF REBAPTISM, BAPTIZING PREACHERS, AND LEADERS OF HEDGE MEETINGS ARE TO BE DROWNED. THOSE PREVIOUSLY RELEASED FROM PRISON WHO HAVE SWORN TO DESIST FROM SUCH THINGS, SHALL INCUR THE SAME PENALTY. FOREIGN BAPTISTS ARE TO BE DRIVEN OUT; IF THEY RETURN THEY SHALL BE DROWNED. NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO SECEDE FROM THE [ZWINGLIAN] CHURCH AND TO ABSENT HIMSELF FROM THE HOLY SUPPER.”

THE DECREE ON MARCH 26TH , 1530, WAS EVEN MORE SEVERE: “ALL WHO ADHERE TO OR FAVOR THE FALSE SECT OF THE BAPTISTS, AND WHO ATTEND HEDGE-MEETINGS, SHALL SUFFER THE MOST SEVERE PUNISHMENTS. BAPTIST LEADERS, THEIR FOLLOWERS, AND PROTECTORS SHALL BE DROWNED WITHOUT MERCY. THOSE, HOWEVER, WHO "FROM THE COWARDICE THAT SHRINKS FROM NEW TRUTH, FROM THE LAZINESS THAT IS CONTENT WITH HALFTRUTHS, FROM THE ARROGANCE THAT THINKS IT KNOWS ALL TRUTH, O, GOD OF TRUTH, DELIVER US." ULRICH ZWINGLI 2 THE GOSPEL UNASHAMED JULY 2015 ASSIST THEM, OR FAIL TO REPORT OR TO ARREST THEM SHALL BE PUNISHED OTHERWISE ON BODY AND GOODS AS INJURIOUS AND FAITHLESS SUBJECTS.”

LIKEWISE, THE GENEVA’S SWITZERLAND COUNCIL IN 1632, HUNG AND BURNED MEN FOR DENYING THE TRINITY. THE SAME PERSECUTION WAS IN DASIL AND BERNE.

IN GERMANY, LUTHER TAUGHT IMMERSION EVEN TRANSLATING “BAPTIZE” AS “DIP”. HE WROTE THESE WORDS IN 1518: “THE SIGNIFICATION OF BAPTISM DEMANDS, FOR IT SIGNIFIES THAT THE OLD MAN AND SINFUL BIRTH FROM THE FLESH AND BLOOD SHALL BE COMPLETELY DROWNED THROUGH THE GRACE OF GOD.

THEREFORE, A MAN SHOULD SUFFICIENTLY PERFORM THE SIGNIFICATION AND A RIGHT PERFECT SIGN. THE SIGN RESTS, IN THIS, THAT A MAN PLUNGE A PERSON IN WATER IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER, ETC., BUT DOES NOT LEAVE HIM THEREIN BUT LIFTS HIM OUT AGAIN; THEREFORE IT IS CALLED BEING LIFTED OUT OF THE FONT OR DEPTHS. AND SO MUST ALL OF BOTH OF THESE THINGS BE THE SIGN; THE DIPPING AND THE LIFTING OUT. THIRDLY, THE SIGNIFICATION IS A SAVING DEATH OF THE SINS AND OF THE RESURRECTION OF THE GRACE OF GOD. THE BAPTISM IS A BATH OF THE NEW BIRTH. ALSO A DROWNING OF THE SINS IN THE BAPTISM” (LUTHER, OPERA LUTHERI, I. 319. FOLIO EDITION).

HE ALSO WROTE: “THE TERM BAPTISM IS A GREEK WORD; IT MAY BE RENDERED INTO LATIN BY “MERSIO”: WHEN WE IMMERSE ANYTHING IN WATER, THAT IT MAY BE ENTIRELY COVERED WITH WATER. AND THOUGH THAT CUSTOM BE QUITE ABOLISHED AMONG THE GENERALITY, (FOR NEITHER DO THEY ENTIRELY DIP CHILDREN, BUT ONLY SPRINKLE THEM WITH A LITTLE WATER,) NEVERTHELESS THEY OUGHT TO BE WHOLLY IMMERSED, AND IMMEDIATELY TO BE DRAWN OUT AGAIN, FOR THE ETYMOLOGY OF THE WORD SEEMS TO REQUIRE IT. THE GERMANS CALL BAPTISM “TAUF”, FROM DEPTH, WHICH THEY CALL “TIEF” IN THEIR LANGUAGE; AS IF IT WERE PROPER THOSE SHOULD BE DEEPLY IMMERSED, WHO ARE BAPTIZED. AND TRULY, IF YOU CONSIDER WHAT BAPTISM SIGNIFIES THAT THE OLD MAN AND OUR NATIVE CHARACTER THAT IS FULL OF SIN, ENTIRELY OF FLESH AND BLOOD AS IT IS, MAY BE OVERWHELMED BY DIVINE GRACE. THE MANNER OF BAPTISM, THEREFORE OUGHT TO ANSWER TO THE SIGNIFICATION OF BAPTISM, SO THAT IT MAY SHOW FORTH A SIGN THAT IS CERTAIN AND FULL.” – OPERA

“WHEN THE WASHING AWAY OF SIN IS ATTRIBUTED TO BAPTISM, IT IS RIGHTLY SO ATTRIBUTED; BUT THE MEANING OF THE PHRASE IS TOO SLIGHT AND WEAK TO FULLY EXPRESS BAPTISM, WHICH IS RATHER A SYMBOL OF DEATH AND RESURRECTION. FOR THIS REASON I COULD WISH THAT THE BAPTIZED SHOULD BE TOTALLY IMMERSED, ACCORDING TO THE MEANING OF THE WORD AND SIGNIFICATION OF THE MYSTERY; NOT THAT I THINK IT NECESSARY TO DO SO, BUT THAT IT WOULD BE WELL THAT SO COMPLETE AND PERFECT THING AS BAPTISM SHOULD HAVE ITS SIGN ALSO IN COMPLETENESS AND PERFECTION, EVEN AS IT WAS DOUBTLESS INSTITUTED BY CHRIST.” – PRIMARY WORKS, P. 192.

LATER, LUTHER BEGAN TO OPPOSE IMMERSION AND THOSE WHO OPPOSED INFANT BAPTISM. THOUGH HE WAS OPPOSED TO EXECUTING THEM HE WISHED THEM ALL TO BE BANISHED FOR DISAGREEING WITH HIS DOCTRINES. AGAIN, HE CHANGED HIS MIND AND ENCOURAGED THE DESTRUCTION OF PEASANTS WHO REVOLTED FROM THE LORDS SEEKING THEIR FREEDOM.

HE WROTE: “THE PEASANTS WOULD NOT LISTEN; THEY WOULD NOT LET ANYONE TELL THEM ANYTHING; THEIR EARS MUST BE UNBUTTONED WITH BULLETS, TILL THEIR HEADS JUMP OFF THEIR SHOULDERS. ... ON THE OBSTINATE, HARDENED, BLINDED PEASANTS, LET NO ONE HAVE MERCY, BUT LET EVERYONE, AS HE IS ABLE, HEW, STAB, SLAY, LAY ABOUT HIM AS THOUGH AMONG MAD DOGS, . . . . SO THAT PEACE AND SAFETY MAY BE MAINTAINED...” [MARTIN LUTHER, WERKE, ERLANGEN EDITION, VOL. 24, P. 294; VOL.15, P. 276]

(OVER 100,000 PEASANTS DIED. DO I ACCUSE FALSELY? - GLF)

HE WROTE: “IT WAS I, MARTIN LUTHER, WHO SLEW ALL THE PEASANTS IN THE INSURRECTION, FOR I COMMANDED THEM TO BE SLAUGHTERED. ALL THEIR BLOOD IS UPON MY SHOULDERS. BUT I CAST IT ON OUR LORD GOD WHO COMMANDED ME TO SPEAK IN THIS WAY.” [MARTIN LUTHER, WERKE, ERLANGEN EDITION, VOL. 59, P. 284]

SO LUTHER SOUGHT THE DEATH OF THOSE OPPOSING INFANT BAPTISM AND FAVORED BELIEVERS’ IMMERSION. IN 1529, THE DIET OF SPEIRS ALL ANABAPTISTS WERE CONDEMNED TO DEATH. MR. HALLEY POINTS OUT 400 SPECIAL POLICE WERE HIRED TO HUNT DOWN THOSE BELIEVERS AND EXECUTE THEM ON THE SPOT. THOUSANDS WERE BURNED ACROSS EUROPE FOR THEIR FAITH. SO THE LUTHERANS KILLED MANY OF THE IMMERSED BELIEVERS.

URBANUS RHEGIUS WAS A LUTHERAN WHO WROTE A BOOK IN 1528 SHOWING A RIVER RUNNING INTO THE OCEAN OF WATER THAT WAS ON FIRE. THIS WAS THE VIEW OF SWITZERLAND AND GERMANY THAT IMMERSION LED TO HELL.

BANISHMENT, DEATH, BURNINGS, HANGINGS, TORTURING, BRANDING, AND IMPRISONMENT WAS THEIR FATE.

LIKEWISE, CALVIN WAS A PERSECUTOR AND A MURDERER. “SO ENTIRELY WAS HE IN FAVOUR OF PERSECUTING MEASURES, THAT HE WROTE A TREATISE IN DEFENCE OF THEM, MAINTAINING THE LAWFULNESS OF PUTTING HERETICS TO DEATH; AND HE REDUCED THESE RIGID THEORIES TO PRACTICE, IN HIS CONDUCT TOWARDS CASTELLIO, JEROM BOLSEE, AND SERVETUS, WHOSE FATES ARE TOO GENERALLY KNOWN TO REQUIRE BEING HERE REPEATED. AT THE COUNCIL OF GENEVA, 1632, NICHOLAS ANTHOINE WAS CONDEMNED TO BE FIRST HANGED AND THEN BURNED FOR OPPOSING THE DOCTRINE OF THE TRINITY...” (J.J. STOCKDALE, THE HISTORY OF THE INQUISITIONS, 1810, P. XXVIII). MARTIN LUTHER JOHN CALVIN JULY 2015 THE GOSPEL UNASHAMED 3 IN THE DAYS OF KING EDWARD VI OF ENGLAND, CALVIN WROTE A LETTER TO LORD PROTECTOR SOMERSET AND URGED HIM TO PUT ANABAPTISTS TO DEATH: “THESE ALTOGETHER DESERVE TO BE WELL PUNISHED BY THE SWORD, SEEING THAT THEY DO CONSPIRE AGAINST GOD, WHO HAD SET HIM IN HIS ROYAL SEAT” (JOHN CHRISTIAN, A HISTORY OF THE BAPTISTS, VOL. 1, CHAP. 15).

HISTORIAN JOHN CHRISTIAN OBSERVES THAT CALVIN “WAS RESPONSIBLE IN A LARGE MEASURE FOR THE DEMON OF HATE AND FIERCE HOSTILITY WHICH THE BAPTISTS OF ENGLAND HAD TO ENCOUNTER.”

IN OCTOBER 1563, CALVIN HAD SERVETUS KILLED, BURNED AT THE STAKE FOR DISAGREEING ON THE TRINITY. IT WAS APPROVED BY BOTH MELANCHTHON OF GERMANY AND BULLINGER OF GENEVA AND OTHER LEADING REFORMERS. SOME OF THE WORST PERSECUTIONS WERE DONE BY THE CALVINISTS AGAINST THE ARMINIANS.

SOME WERE BEHEADED, IMPRISONED, OR BANISHED. LIKEWISE, THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND UNDER KING HENRY VIII, AS WELL AS KING EDWARD VI AND KING JAMES, PERSECUTED IMMERSIONISTS. THEY ORGANIZED BURNINGS. THESE INCLUDED BOTH MEN AND WOMEN. MANY OF THEIR NAMES ARE RECORDED IN HISTORY BUT ALL IN GOD’S BOOK OF MARTYRS. HANGINGS WERE COMMON AS WELL PERSECUTIONS AND IMPRISONMENTS WHICH CONTINUED OVER SEVERAL CENTURIES.

WHY DO I PRINT THIS? IT SHOWS THAT IT IS NOT ONLY THE MUSLIMS AND CATHOLICS THAT KILL THEIR OPPONENTS. THE REFORMERS ALSO PERSECUTED THOSE WHO INSISTED ON IMMERSION AND OTHER BIBLE TRUTHS. THE VERY FOUNDERS OF PROTESTANTISM WERE ALSO BUTCHERS FILLED WITH MURDEROUS PRACTICES ON THOSE WHO DISAGREED WITH THEIR DOCTRINES.

THE LEGACY OF ZWINGLI TODAY - HE WAS THE ONE RESPONSIBLE FOR CALLING BAPTISM A WORK AND ESTABLISH THE “FAITH ONLY” DOCTRINE WE CONTEND WITH TO THIS DAY.

AS FOR JOHN CALVIN, THE FOUNDER OF CALVINISM, PREDESTINATION IS STILL TAUGHT IN MANY MAINLINE CHURCHES AND WAS THE CAUSE OF THE DEATH OF MANY BELIEVERS IN CHRIST. YET HE DID NOT PREDESTINATE THE MURDERS.

MARTIN LUTHER BY HIS OWN MOUTH CAUSED THE DEATHS OF MANY IN GERMANY AND PRUSSIA. HIS HATRED AND PERSECUTION OF JEWS IS ALSO RENOWNED. THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND LIKEWISE TOOK THEIR TOLL ON RELIGIOUS FREEDOM.

IRONICALLY, THESE MEN HAD BEEN GREATLY PERSECUTED BY THE ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH. HOWEVER, WHERE THEY ESTABLISHED THEMSELVES ELSEWHERE IN SWITZERLAND, GERMANY, ENGLAND, ETC., THEY MOTIVATED OTHER COUNTRIES TO PROSECUTE AND PERSECUTE. THE PERSECUTED BECAME THE PERSECUTORS. ROMANS 11:16 SAYS, “IF THE ROOT IS HOLY, SO ARE THE BRANCHES.” IS NOT THE OPPOSITE TRUE? “IF THE ROOT IS UNHOLY, CAN THE BRANCHES BE HOLY?”

ISN’T IT STRANGE AND IRONIC THAT THE ADHERENTS TO THESE MEN’S HERITAGE NOW ARE SAYING THAT THE MODE, PURPOSE, AND CANDIDATES FOR BAPTISM IS SIMPLY IMMATERIAL? THE ROTTING CORPSES OF HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS WHOM THEIR ANCESTORS TORTURED AND SLEW OVER THESE QUESTIONS GAVE THEIR LIVES FOR BELIEVERS’ IMMERSION. CHRIST NEVER INTENDED HIS KINGDOM TO BE SPREAD BY FORCE. THOSE WHO DO SO PROVE THEY ARE NONE OF HIS. IT WAS AT THE PRICE OF THE MARTYRS’ BLOOD THAT WE HAVE THE FREEDOM TODAY TO PREACH BELIEVERS BAPTISM. TRULY MANY OF OUR OWN BRETHREN LACK THE COURAGE IN THIS FREE SOCIETY TO PREACH THE NECESSITY OF BELIEVER’S BAPTISM.

TODAY, IF WE TEACH WHAT THE RESTORATION FATHERS TAUGHT IN REJECTING THE REFORMER’S TEACHINGS, BOTH WOULD BE COUNTED WORTHY OF MARTYRDOM BY THE FOUNDING REFORMERS. THE TOLERANCE MANY BROTHERS SHOW TOWARD THE DOCTRINE OF THE FOUNDING REFORMERS TO ME IS ASTOUNDING. TO TEACH THE FAITH-ONLY DOCTRINE OF ZWINGLI, THE DOCTRINE OF ELECTION OF CALVIN, AND THE NON-NECESSITY OF IMMERSION OF LUTHER AS PRACTICED NOW BY MANY IN THE CHURCH OF CHRIST, DENIES NOT ONLY THE TEACHING OF JESUS CHRIST BUT IS A REJECTION OF OUR HERITAGE. IT CHEAPENS AND TRAMPLES THE BLOOD OF CHRIST AND THE BLOOD OF THE MARTYRS. IT MAKES THE MARTYRS RADICAL LEGALISTS WHO SIMPLY DIED ON THE WRONG HILL.

(This article was collected from many sources. We especially are thankful for the writings of David Cloud.)

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stephengonzalez98 · 3 years

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Blazing Saddles (1974)

(Warner Brothers, Blazing Saddles, 1974)

The genre of westerns carries with it certain clichés that are found in many of its movies, tv shows, and media. The railroad, cowboy hats, boom towns, saloons, fighting Indians, and bar maids all fit within the stereotypes of the genre. In 1974, Mel Brooks decided to take a stab at not only making his own western film but using his western to make fun of and generate talk about classic western film ideologies. Thus, Blazing Saddles was born.

(Warner Brothers, Meet Jim, 1974)

Brooks cast both Cleavon Little, and Gene Wilder, to star as the Black sheriff, Bart and alcoholic deputy, Jim, respectively. The main story of the film revolves around the town of Rock Ridge. It’s a frontier town that the attorney general of the territory wants to connect to the state rail system and turn into a high-end city. In order to do this, he needs to run out the people currently residing in town. He sends in an army of criminals to terrorize the town, to which the town cries out for a sheriff to protect them. The Governor, without knowledge of the attorney general’s plans, is recommended to send in a Black sheriff as a sign of being progressive. The reason being, that the attorney general believes a Black sheriff will scare the nearly all White population of Rock Ridge out of the town.

(Warner Brothers, Welcome Sheriff, 1974)

The film touches on such topics as racism, racial and cultural stereotypes, and sexism in a satirical form. Such ideas as racial hierarchy, strict gender roles, over sexualization of women, cultural identities, and sexual orientation are all subject to the comedic writing of Brooks. For example, the film mainly expresses the idea of Black racism, however, Asian and Native people are also mentioned within the dialogue. Often, phrases such as “Niggers” “Darkies” “Chinks” and “Reds” are used to resemble the language used in the mid-1800s. Brooks found ways of using these slurs almost so satirically that hearing them sounds so out of place that it causes you to laugh and think about how they really were commonplace words used without a second thought.

(Warner Brothers, Register Here, 1974)

Most people would reel back in horror at the thought of laughing at racial slurs. I agree. In today’s social context this is something that seems forbidden and taboo, especially with the current cancel culture. We do have to remember that within the context of the film there is a reason for it. Brooks proves mostly the place that “Nigger” had in frontier society as Cleavon’s sheriff Bart, tries to appeal to the people of the town and introduce himself. Wilder’s Jim warns against it but Bart proceeds out to town. He starts with whom he’d assumed to be the easiest person to get along with, the old feeble grandmother. After asking how her day ways, Bart is met with a quick retort of “Up yours Nigger!” To which Jim explains that the residents of Rock Ridge are “People of the land…farmers…morons,” causing Bart to laugh and smile (Brooks, 1974).

(Warner Brothers, Rock Ridge Town Council, 1974)

Looking back at all of the different flawed and offensive topics that Blazing Saddles looks at it seems as though there were maybe too many or not enough. Although, it does call to mind the video, A Declaration of Poetic Disobedience from the New Border by Guillermo Gómez-Peña. The two share this idea of voicing opinions through satire and in-your-face facts. Neither film holds back from facing the reality that racism and stereotypes have in our world. To which we must ask, “Why the need for such an approach to the conversation of race and racial identity?” The answer to which I find to be quite rudimentary: All talk is good talk. We have become, in my eyes, too afraid to talk about the subject of race, racial identity, and other social topics due to the fear of offending others, and thus being shamed and labeled as racist, intolerant, a bigot, or closed-minded by society. We have become so quick to pull the trigger of blame, that as a byproduct, these topics often lack substantial conversations and ideas. Films, writings, and media such as Blazing Saddles and A Declaration of Poetic Disobedience from the New Border give us a starting point from which we can have such conversations and express such ideas so that we are less afraid to face our reality.

(Warner Brothers, Help Me, 1974)

All rights to the images go to Warner Brothers Pictures in association with Mel Brooks.

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dialovers-translations · 4 years

Photo

Diabolik Lovers Anime Official Fan Book: Sakamaki Laito’s Cast Interview [ENG Translation]

Character profile ll Character design ll Character interview

**🎩~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🎩**

DAISUKE HIRAKAWA

Q1: What were your thoughts when you heard about the anime adaption?

I was familiar with the setting and the characters to a certain degree from the situation CDs and the game, but in case of the latter, various endings have been prepared, so I couldn’t help but wonder how they would have the story unfold in the anime.

After reading the script, I thought it was put together very well so people who started with the anime could enjoy it, while also leaving some mysteries unresolved so the viewers would want to find out what happens from there on out.

Q2: What was your impression of Laito as a character? What did you bear in mind when voicing him?

“Extremely sadistic, a pervert, clingy” ー Were the three pointers given to me that left the biggest impact. (lol) I had never taken gotten the chance to take on such an extreme role, so when it was decided I would voice him, I actually felt very grateful for the opportunity.

During the recording of the anime, knowing that I was going to be stopped by the director either way, I really went all out with my acting.

Laito is the type of character whose usual cheerful attitude can suddenly do a 180 but while I was reading the script, I focused on the moments on in which he shows his true self, experiecing that ‘something’ within himself.

Q3: What is the most charming about Laito as a character?

It has to be his ‘clinginess’, right? (lol) However, he isn’t just clingy, I feel like despite having a very straightforward personality himself, within himself he has this forbidden territory which he does not want other people to set foot on. It’s exactly that which creates a mysterious aura you just can’t help but get hooked on. It’s almost addictive. (lol)

The fact that he gets excited when Yui resists him might be another one of his charms as well. *laughs sarcastically*

Q4: In that case, what’s the most charming about the heroine Yui?

How she is pure through and through, I suppose. I think she might be the type of person who is both fickle and noble at the same time, remaining strong despite being pushed around by her surroundings. Furthermore, she’s someone with a ‘high pain tolerance’ in all senses of the word. (lol)

--> Literally he says that ‘she is strong against the pain’.

Q5: What’s a scene or a phrase that left a particular impression on you?

The scene where Laito is passionately preaching to himself on the rooftop during episode 4. It’s the first time Laito has an attitude shift in the anime, showing the gap in his personality.

Besides that, his trademark ‘nfu~’ (lol) They may all sound the same to you, but depending on the scene, the meaning behind his giggle might be different, so I tried to figure that out amongst myself as well.

Q6: What would you do if you were enslaved by a Vampire?

I’m fairly certain a Vampire wouldn’t grow fond of me. I think I would lack in nutrients from living such an unhealthy lifestyle. (lol ) That’s why I wouldn’t recommend my blood! (lol)

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #laito sakamaki #diabolik lovers fan book #diabolik lovers translation

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ohscorbus · 4 years

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Harry Potter and the Cursed Child: Saturday 7th December, 2019

I know, I know, it’s been so long! Apologises, I haven’t been seeing the show as often lately (blame boring adult obligations and the ever increasing rail fare). But I struck gold with this cast board and so this show just demanded a recap. For those of you unaware, it was a special one. We had both a cover Albus and a cover Scorpius! Which, and correct me if I’m wrong, hasn’t happened before? Not here in London at least. Anyway, I’ve seen Ryan’s Albus once or twice before with the previous cast and Luke’s Scorpius just the once a few months back (and yet I already consider him one of my all-time favourites). So basically, this was a dream and I was ready.

ACT ONE, SCENE FOUR: TRANSITION SCENE

Scorpius lingered on the far side of the stage and watched the beginning of the wand dance in awe and it was precious and so very Scorpius. This boy enjoys magic and this tiny moment really got that across. His eyes followed the spark as it shot upwards and then he looked back down at the students, at Albus, and never once stopped smiling. Even as he turned and walked off stage with a bounce in his step.

You know how Jon is a tad bit bitter about Scorpius not being in the wand dance? (Bless him.) Well Luke’s Scorpius just seems happy for them. Instead of imagining Scorpius walking off sulking, I imagine this Scorpius sneakily practising a little bit of magic on his own in the corridor on the way to his next class.

ACT ONE, SCENE SEVEN: BLANKET SCENE

Immediately after Harry said The Thing, he reached out to Albus and while I’ve seen this before, this time he actually made contact. It was almost bizarre to see but thinking about it now, it’s actually even more heartbreaking as it means Albus was probably feeling too much to process. Stepping out of his dad’s reach just doesn’t register quick enough and so he froze, lost in his head. But even though Harry was physically holding his arms, he actually wasn’t reaching him at all. Ouch.

ACT ONE, SCENE TEN: HOGWARTS EXPRESS

I absolutely adore the way Luke’s Scorpius explains the Triwizard Tournament to Albus. He puts on a voice and gestures like he’s telling a grand story to an audience. No wonder Albus calls him a geek. It’s so extra. I love it. Hands down the best version of these lines I’ve ever seen.

Luke’s facial expressions are A+. While Albus was talking to Scorpius, he absentmindedly smacked Scorpius on the chest a couple of times with the back of his hand and Scorpius looked down at Albus’s hand and then gave Albus such a look. Albus wasn’t even looking in his direction and I think that’s what I liked most about it. That Scorpius just pulls these very easily readable expressions right to his face and yet Albus is totally unaware.

This only got better when Albus decided that grabbing Scorpius by the lapels of his robes and getting closer would really drive his point home. Scorpius? Has no idea what to do. Albus? Has no intention of acknowledging personal space. I like this Albus. The hugs in the script tell us Albus is quite tactile. He clearly does not hesitate to get close to those who he loves and trusts. But it’s in these little non-scripted, casual touches that really enforces that. It makes sense that his best (and only) friend of four years would be someone he also loves and trusts. I still don’t believe they’ve never hugged before but even if that’s true, there’s no way this boy has avoided all physical contact. That’s just impossible.

ACT TWO, SCENE SIXTEEN: LIBRARY SCENE

I’ve been watching this show for yeeears and let me tell you, no one does the library scene like Luke. There’s no way I could possibly explain it in words and do it justice. This boy just gets the anger and frustration and lets it all out. This is Scorpius not holding back, not having to repress his emotions or come second to anyone else’s problems. This is about a boy who’s hurting and finally screaming back at the world like it deserves. This scene is pure, raw emotion and it’s captivating. The kind that makes you subconsciously hold your breath and break out in goosebumps. I cannot express this enough; Luke is incredible.

What I also really loved about Luke and Ryan’s version of this scene is, again, their physical contact. This was as close to ‘wrestling’ as I’ve ever seen an Albus and Scorpius get when they’re fighting over the Time-Turner. It wasn’t delicate, it was rough. Like they were fighting for more than just the object. Which really, there are. It’s Albus’s heart versus Scorpius’s mind. These two are such a team that it makes this moment even more painful. But it also makes them real. Best friends clash and fight and these two are no different to you or I.

There was a point when Albus poked Scorpius really hard in the chest to get his point across and you could see Scorpius’s anger levels rise to a whole new level. That was the breaking point I think. Before that he could have come back and regained control but Albus pushes him (quite literally) into this new territory. It was only seconds later before Scorpius started talking back and poked Albus equally as hard in the chest in return. Albus barely had time to register this unusual action before Scorpius stepped even closer and pushed him back with both hands in sheer frustration. It was so un-Scorpius like that I LOVE IT. I think it says so much about Scorpius. He’s the sweetest, kind-hearted boy you’ll ever meet. But everyone has a breaking point. Albus is so careless with his touches and this Scorpius just doesn’t know what to do with them. But here it’s like he’s throwing it all back in his face. It’s an anger fuelled instinctive rejection that’s suppose to hurt, and it’s fascinating to see Scorpius give as good as he gets. He’s been rejected by society, by his fellow students, and now Albus wants to do this without him too? Well not if he pushes him away first. That self-preservation (especially when hurt) is so very Malfoy and it’s always fascinating to see this sunshine boy be more ‘Draco’ than ‘Astoria’.

All too soon he’d calmed down and the Scorpius everyone else sees came back. But for a few minutes, we got to see the messy Scorpius inside and that’s what I need from actors when they play Scorpius Malfoy here. His pain, his heritage, his Scorpion King ‘potential’. All unleashed. Luke is simply phenomenal at it.

This whole interaction then tied in with the ending when Albus stepped forward and put his hand out and said, “Friends?”, and Scorpius flinched backward. Scorpius isn’t a fighter. There’s nothing more he wants than a friend and a split second later, once he’s registered what Albus has asked him, he leaned in and accepted wholeheartedly. This Scorpius is very open with his physical awkwardness and I love the way Albus refuses to tiptoe around it. He goes in for that hug and even though he can probably sense (and knows from experience) that Scorpius doesn’t know what to do, he decided to prolong the hug anyway. It’s interesting because it tells you he knows when and how to push him and does so. It contrasts wonderfully against the moment we’ve just seen. An example of where this went wrong followed by an example of it going beautifully right. Albus is such a loving and caring boy and he’s always expressed this in his actions and this is a gorgeous example of that. He knows Scorpius.

Anyway. I got distracted. Albus prolonged the hug by resting his head on Scorpius’s shoulder and while Scorpius’s whole being may have appeared to be saying he’s confused and uncomfortable, I don’t believe he hated any moment of it. It was like going back to being them. Albus and Scorpius. And if that didn’t do it, the way Albus’s hand lingered on Scorpius’s side as he pulled out of the hug and Scorpius’s face as he looked down at the offending hand and then back up at Albus, was definitely them going back to ‘normal’.

ACT TWO, SCENE NINETEEN: GIRLS’ BATHROOM

Oh gosh, the gillyweed! Now I’m sure this wasn’t a choice he’s made for his Scorpius and it happened purely because Albus was given too much gillyweed and took too little for himself, but Luke ended up with A LOT. Bless him. It was hanging out of his mouth, falling everywhere. How this boy did he lines amazes me. He ended up going down the sink with his head thrown back, mouth wide open, gillyweed everywhere. It was rather funny. Our ridiculous Scorpius was definitely back.

ACT THREE, SCENE ONE: UMBRIDGE’S OFFICE

The complete lack of expression on Scorpius’s face in front of Umbridge is exactly what I want here. This boy is a Malfoy. That mask is hereditary. He can stand there and give nothing away. He’s grown up watching his dad do just this. (And I love that clearly some of those things Draco has consciously and subconsciously instilled in him has stuck.) But he isn’t the Scorpion King. So when she mentioned he was athletic, Scorpius forgets himself and that mask slipped because he just has to question that. Clearly he’s never heard of the phrase ‘curiosity killed the cat’.

ACT THREE, SCENE NINE: FORBIDDEN FOREST

Luke gives us a full body reaction that’s pure horror when Ron and Hermione lost their souls. He had his hands over his mouth and he was slightly hunched over. He was so visibly shaken and sickened that it makes sense that the lone dementor found him so quickly.

ACT THREE, SCENE FOURTEEN: SLYTHERIN DORM

Oh Luke. Bless you for always climbing onto Albus’s bed and chilling. I will forever fight for this because I can’t imagine best friends who live together not hanging out in each other’s spaces! That’s just what happens when people are comfortable with each other, and in this case, when said friend just doesn’t want to get up. Seriously, this Albus did not want to sit up. He was quite happy lying there wiping the sleep out of his eyes as he listened to Scorpius ramble on. He did eventually sit up and Scorpius went on over and sat on the end of his bed beside him. He crossed his legs and tucked his feet under him and made himself quite at home. He even leaned over and nudged Albus a few times with his elbow to emphasis whatever point he was making. Again, it was a really nice continuation of Scorpius’s boundaries. He’s getting physically more comfortable and actually initiating contact himself and getting into Albus’s personal space for once.

ACT THREE, SCENE NINETEEN: QUIDDITCH PITCH

Ryan does this scene so brilliantly. The way he just curls up and sobs. So good. He makes this scene entirely his own just the way Luke does with the library scene.

My favourite aspect of this scene for me was their opposite reactions to Craig’s death. (Sorry Craig.) The second Albus heard the start of Delphi’s curse, he turned and never once looked back. He refused to look at Craig. His whole body was turned away, down, tucked in, and shaking with sobs. Whereas Scorpius was turned fully towards Craig. He watched the whole thing and barely blinked. He faced it head on in stillness. Two complete opposites. It says so much about these two boys and how they deal with things.

ACT THREE, SCENE THREE: DRACO’S OFFICE

Draco went to put his hand on Scorpius’s heart, hesitated and hovered, then pointed* a finger at his heart instead. This isn’t new for this Draco, but it’s interesting considering this Scorpius’s reactions to touch. It’s almost like he knew he’d already crossed a line with grabbing him across the desk and, even though this touch is completely different, he knew better than to try it again. I wonder how much a flinch from Scorpius would have hurt Draco at this point?

(*Because of the angle I was sat, I can’t be 100% sure he didn’t actually make contact. But if he did, then I also think that’s a great link back to Albus’s finger poking him in the chest. The two most important people in his life. Two very highly emotional and eye opening conversations. And a lot has happened since then. So either way, there’s a connection there all the way through that’s personal to Scorpius and I love that.)

ACT FOUR, SCENE FOUR: HARRY’S OFFICE

This scene hit me really hard today. I cannot even put it into words. James made some subtle changes in the way he delivered some of the lines and it was simply beautiful. I really felt his pain and love for Astoria and my heart ached for this man and his happiness that’s once again slipping through his hands. Have you read what he wrote about this scene? You can see it’s true, and it made seeing him get his son back later on even more delightful.

ACT FOUR, SCENE FIVE: GODRIC’S HOLLOW

You know how Albus is sat down by the door when this scene starts? Well today he remained seated for far longer than usual. (I was definitely sensing a theme with Ryan’s Albus by this point.) Scorpius’s response? He just went over and crouched down next to him. Again, it was lovely to see Scorpius make that decision to put himself in Albus’s space.

ACT FOUR, SCENE EIGHT: GODRIC’S HOLLOW

Story time: Samuel’s Scorpius would always figure out that St Jerome’s Church was the ideal location way before Hermione finished talking and would cheekily point it out. It was really sweet and so very Scorpius. While Hermione was listing off the points today, Luke’s Scorpius leaned in and whispered something to his dad. Now presumably it was simply ‘St Jermone’s Church’ because this boy has already worked it out, but whatever it was, Draco looked at him with the ultimate smug Malfoy/proud dad face. It was glorious and also a really beautiful moment. We get so little positive father-son moments between these two that this just brought a tear to my eye. For just a moment there wasn’t anyone else around, there was no danger. It was just father and son reunited in every sense. It made my heart soar. It’s always been this small family against the world and here they are again. They make a good team and I think they’re both finally at a point where they realise that. It’s wonderful.

ACT FOUR, SCENE FOURTEEN: HOGWARTS

The last hug was really lovely because you could see the moment Scorpius decides to do it. (Luke’s ability to switch from mask to transparency is one of my favourite things because that mix is how I’ve always imagined Scorpius being.) He had already put quite a bit of distance between them so his slow walk was longer than usual and it meant you felt his purpose as he went towards Albus and leaned down into the hug. Albus was once again sat down and remained so for the duration of the hug. It was like they had gone full circle. We started with Scorpius standing up on the train and Albus quickly pulling him into a one-sided hug. To now, with Scorpius not waiting for Albus to stand (because clearly he knew from experience he wouldn’t) and calmly going in for the hug first and Albus happily accepting it.

Ryan’s choice to have Albus so unusually relaxed is interesting in its own right though. It’s not laziness on Albus’s part, but I think a reflection on how comfortable he is around Scorpius. He can be ‘just Albus’ around him. So he can stay a little longer in bed or sit on the floor with his guard down because he’s with Scorpius. And isn’t that wonderful?

ACT FOUR, SCENE FIFTEEN: GRAVEYARD

I can’t not mention the fact Ryan did a pigeon noise at Harry. Because he did. It was something else.

EXTRAS

Fun fact: Ryan is taller than Luke so this was a tall!Albus and small!Scorpius combo and I’ll admit it was weird at first but I soon loved every second of it.

Talking appearances, Ryan’s Albus had his hair up off his face in part one and I swear he doesn’t usually? I mean, every Albus has their hair down. It’s kind of his thing. They literally make them get their hair cut for this. So I was confused. Especially since it was down for part two.

Because Ryan was cover Albus with the last cast too it meant he still has the old hoodie and let me tell you, I had tears welling up in my eyes when I first saw it on Albus again.

To summarise, Luke and Ryan? Double wizzo! Their Albus and Scorpius were a wonderfully compatible combination that highlighted each other’s characters quirks and sparks and darkness brilliantly. It was surprising to hear they hadn’t really rehearsed it all together because they were very much in sync and their interpretations matched together almost perfectly. They were the same but opposites and while that makes absolutely no sense, I promise you it’s real and it works spectacularly.

…I was going to finish there but actually, can I say just one more time how much I love Luke’s Scorpius? Seriously, I want a solid year of this boy on as the main Scorpius. He’s awkward and messy and bright and still very much a Malfoy. It’s such a strange and complicated mix to get right and this boy nails it. I cannot praise him enough and trust me, I really do try at stage door!

#harry potter and the cursed child #it's technically a recap but it's mostly an excuse to gush about luke sumner #TCCleanne #text post #mypost #long post

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heartslogos · 3 years

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newfragile yellows [927]

“There is a saying that the meek shall inherit the earth, but only if we let them,” Solas muses as Ellana does her damned best to throw her worldly possessions over the top of the school’s fence. “But only if we let them. What do you think the definition of meek is, according to the people who coined this particular turn of phrase?”

“Did you and Professor Dirthamen switch classes suddenly?” Ellana asks, resisting the urge to scream when she fails, once more, to clear the top of the ridiculously high stone wall.

Solas, of course, ignores her.

“Perhaps they meant it as a more passive aggressive way of describing survival of the fittest. Or, it could be that they were talking about a moral failing of some sort, a lack of character in regards to strength of will and conviction in the traditional sense of the word meek. Or it could be a physical weakness.”

“Solas, either you’re here to tattle on me or you’re here to help me.” Ellana is starting to get out of breath and very tired.

The man pauses in his musings to catch her bag as it falls back down to earth once more, calmly swinging it onto his back.

“Or maybe it’s saying that those who lack much in the way of thinking skills threaten to outnumber and overpower those who do posses some modicum of higher level though and understanding of logic due to brute force of numbers. The ignorant shouting down the cries of enlightenment and such. Have you considered that your leather and cloth bag was not designed to be thrown over a very tall wall with such weak force at such an absurdly steep angle? Jun has failed you if you have yet to understand the mathematical equations going into this situation.”

“Professor Jun is a better instructor at more hands on, practical, skills than math and everyone knows it,” Ellana huffs. “Give that back.”

“Throw the items over one at a time,” Solas says, “And from a greater distance.”

Ellana scowls. “You couldn’t have told me that about thirty attempts ago?”

“I would have thought that by attempt two you would have considered trying a new strategy seeing as how it did not work the first time. But, alas, you were committed to your failings,” Solas says, handing the bag back to her. “Also I was curious to see if you could do it through sheer force of will.”

“You are an awful teacher.”

“I never claimed to be anything other than passable as a teacher and if anyone expected more from me that’s their fault, not mine,” Solas crosses his arms as Ellana reaches into her bag to pull out a survival knife.

“Don’t look at me like that. I do pay attention during our outdoor excursions. I’m not just collecting flowers and having a walk-about.”

“You’re throwing your weapon first? You weren’t keeping it on your person? Miss Lavellan, you are third in line for the throne. Has no one impressed upon you �� “

“Is there anything you aren’t going to lecture me about?” Ellana groans. “You know, if you’re so clearly upset by how badly I’m doing this whole run away from school thing you could help me. As third in line for the throne surely I have some sort of…I don’t know. Authority? Some sort of authority to compel you to help me?”

“To help you run away from school to do what, exactly? That part has yet to be made clear.”

“Obviously I would be going back to Uncle Alim’s estate.”

“To what purpose?”

“Uncle is in the capitol with Aunt Neria, they’re doing something or other for the Queen. Something boring, no doubt.”

“You do realize that it’s going to be your duty in the future as well to assist Neria?”

“So while Uncle Alim is away his position back on our lands is weakened. News travels slower and it will be easier for me to get away with things.”

Solas pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you planning a coup?”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Nothing to that level. Just a little…restructuring of the staff is all. Maybe some…redecoration of certain key areas around the estate. The shuffling of some records and things.”

“Is this because your uncle has forbidden you from seeing the Qunari exchange student?”

“It’s absolute idiocy, Solas. Absolute lunacy. It’s pathetic and weak and I will not allow my uncle to control who I do and do not make friends with. I will not be limited by insular views and racial prejudice!”

“Have you considered that he’s doing it because you might cause a literal political scandal and everything you and the Iron Bull do needs to inscrutably perfect?”

“Has he considered that perfection is an unobtainable goal that poisons the mind?” Ellana retorts as she shoves her clothes inside a shirt and starts tying the shirt closed.

“It will wrinkle.”

“I have other things to worry about that aren’t wrinkles in my traveling clothes.”

“Like how you’re going to explain your attempt at subverting your uncle’s authority?”

“Oh, please. Everyone’s overreacting.”

“You are literally attempting to break out of school and lie, bluff, and swindle your way back to your uncle’s territory to cause trouble.”

“Have you considered that the fact that I have to break out of school, rather than be permitted to leave by my own free will granted to me by the gods themselves, is rather troubling? It’s like I’m in prison.”

“Not yet you aren’t.”

“Pardon?” Ellana turns to look back at her professor, arm raised as she’s about to throw her bundle of clothing. “Oh come on, professor. You couldn’t have said something sooner? Abelas, this is absolutely not what it looks like.”

Abelas looks at Solas. “Do you derive pleasure in watching your students blunder into these things?”

“Not at all,” Solas crosses his arms. “Lavellan, how many times must you be warned about observing your surroundings before you learn your lesson?”

“Professor, full offense meant, but I’ve never met someone so useless in my entire, albeit in comparison to yours short, life.”

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth

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bonnie-barstow-of-flag · 4 years

Note

“Quit hogging the blanket!” Michael Knight

(I wasn’t sure if you wanted to rp this out or not, so I gave you a drabble.)’

At least Michael wasn’t a stranger. It’s the thought that resoundingly reverberates through the brunette’s cranium as she slips into her pajamas. Had Bonnie anticipated his presence, she might have selected something a touch less scandalous and revealing. As she casts one last glance into the clouded mirror, she reminds herself that there was nothing overtly obscene about what they were about to do. Lots of people share beds after motel mix-ups. Right?

Michael Knight’s overnight bag is thrust into a heap in the smallest corner of the room. His leather jacket is shrugged off and he uses the brief privacy to slip on more comfortable pants to sleep in. He can’t exactly rely on his usual routine which, entailed sleeping in his boxers and a t-shirt. He was sharing a bed with Bonnie. His seemingly unobtainable person of affection. Perhaps, that is what made her all the more attractive in his eyes. He briefly contemplates making a joke of this situation and yet, a wiser part of him discerns that it could potentially attract her ire. So he doesn’t. He allows the humorous remark to die upon the breadth of his tongue. Especially, when she bashfully emerges from the bathroom. Had she ever looked more gorgeous? He doesn’t think so. It’s hard to pry his eyes off of her.

Barstow hesitantly slides over the bed. She is all too aware of his stunning azure hues lingering upon her every curve. A shade of bing-cherry warms the upper-crests of her cheekbones as she averts her own gaze. Of course, curiosity had compelled her to steal a glance at Michael and what she had seen wasn’t entirely revealing or displeasing. He had been respectful of her wishes which made this awkward predicament all the more tolerable. She pushes herself beneath the covers.

A giddy nervousness swells up inside of her as Michael’s sturdier form sinks down beside her’s.

“Night, Bons.” Michael all too casually murmurs as his head hit the pillow. He’s tired but his soul feels wide awake. His hands yearn to take hold of her. However, out of respect for her, they dare not act on the basest instinct.

There is a horrible thunder that overtakes her rib-cage at the sleepy utterance of his tongue. It was the most pleasant sound even if she couldn’t allow herself to openly confide to such a thing. “Good night.” As questionable as the room’s cleanliness was, Barstow buries her face into the pillowcase in the hopes that he would not see her blush.

He snuggles in close, far closer than he ought. ‘We’re just co-workers’, Barstow readily reminds herself, as Michael’s heated breath plays across the exposed curve of her neck. The warmth of his proximity on the much too small bed causes her own breath to jar. It is highly improper to allow her mind to venture down the path it was so willfully explored. Any relationship with Knight was expressly forbidden and somehow that didn’t make it any less desirable. Besides, Michael was a ladies man. He loved them and he left them in puddles of their own tears. She did not want to find herself among that unlucky number in his broken hearts club. She owed herself far better than a one night stand!

Space! Bonnie realized she needed more of it! Michael’s 6′4 frame claimed most of the bed’s territory. The mechanic’s mind screamed out the hopeless potential of things she imagined and it scares her.

Michael had attempted to curl his figure around the furthest edges avoiding the overcrowding of her more petite frame. He’s scared of pushing her away and even more petrified to pull her nearer to him. He can’t cross this line. Not with her. He’d never forgive himself.

Shifting, Bonnie’s fingers lay claim to the blanket and coil it tighter around her shivering frame. She prays it doesn’t disrupt his semi-peaceful slumber. However, her attempt is unsuccessful. The very moment she gets herself settled and semi-comfortable there is a harsh tug on the material covering and a sharply issued warning escapes his lips. “Quit hoggin’ the blanket!”

Sea-glass orbs flash wide open at his audacity. “Me?! Hogging?!” She hisses with a tack like pointed-edge. “Michael, you hardly left me with any blanket to start with!” She turns her gaze to peer at him through a web of messy dark strands. It didn’t help that the stiff fabric was barely big enough to fit the bed, much less provide comfort for one person, let alone two!

Exasperation beckons from the hollows of Knight’s lungs and he snips back. “Well, ya. You do have more than half the blanket on your side.” His bleary azure orbs narrow, peering right back into her’s. His large hand gesticulates to the piece of the bed in question. He briefly contemplates the wisdom of getting Kitt to back him up on this but Michael knows it could be a losing war. Especially, since Kitt has always liked Bonnie better.

“My side?! You’ve got to be kidding me?!” Bonnie retorts, feeling the urge to slug him in the nearest arm. Still, she manages to resist inflicting physical harm on him. “You are aware that I have no side of the bed given you take up most of it!” Shame colors the expanse of her cheekbones, though she knows she speaks the truth.

“Well. Excuse me.” He intentionally elongates the words while his hands raised in a placating fashion. “I wasn’t aware I was such an imposition.” Knight smartly answers. His pride was clearly wounded. It is obvious in the very inflection of his words. He readies himself to take leave of her, pushing one foot off the bed and then preparing the second one to do the same.

She can feel him abandoning her. Her heart drops into the souls of her own feet with the shifting of the mattress. “No. Michael.” Bonnie protests before she can discern the impropriety of the offer. “Please stay.” The imploring phrase departs her tongue as more of an order than a humbly gifted suggestion. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be argumentative. It’s just I’m freezing, miserable, and I can’t sleep.” Insomnia was definitely the least of her worries tonight. It was more she couldn’t sleep because she had realized deep down that she truly did love him. Not even her doctorates in computer sciences and technology could protect her now.

Sympathy softens the features on Michael’s face as he gazes down upon Bonnie’s smaller form. She sure is beautiful even when she is, how would Devon say it, miffed? The obnoxious little British voice in his head reminds him of the term he sought. How hadn’t he noticed her discomfiture? What kind of gentlemen was he being? “Forgive me, Bons.” He adoringly murmurs, slinking carefully back down on to the mattress beside her. The springs give off a willful groan as his full weight returns.

“Forgive you?” The mechanic swallows thickly, the uncertainty reverberating through every syllable of the half posed inquiry. She was the one who ought to ask for forgiveness given she had been a touch selfish. It takes her several minutes to understand for what offense he is beseeching absolution for. “I..” She starts, the rest of her words choking off as Michael’s large hands take hold of her middle and reel her and the blanket into his frame. She gasps, her heart taking on its own rendition of turbo-boost. This was crossing the line?! Wasn’t it? Panic coils through her every vein and yet, she can not bring herself to push him away.

A strange, smug satisfaction curls across Michael’s face as his annoying but none-the-less favorite woman finds solace in the fortitude of his limbs. He can feel his erratic heartbeat echoing the arousal he finds.”Is that better?” Knight ponders in something of a delicate sotto-voce tone.

The brunette can feel his sturdy chest pressed flush against her back. His skin radiates the pleasant snugness of furnace in the wintertime. “Much.” Comes her nervous utterance in reply. Heavy lids flicker contentedly closed. The horrible quavering of her features gradually wears off as she remains enveloped by him. “Thanks, Michael.” Her fingers curl into the case of her pillow to avoid clinging to him, the way she wished to.

There is no stinging note of sarcasm in her hushed gratitude and it draws a groggy smile upon the Flag agent’s lips. “Don’t mention it.” He almost makes mention of how much he loves her. He inhales the floral scent of her perfume and the faintest hint of petrol that lingers on her porcelain skin. His nose finds a home against the slope of her neck. Michael finds himself relishing this moment, knowing full well that she may push him away and deny that this ever happened with the dawning of a new day.

And so it is, with the sounds of each other’s frantic heartbeats echoing within their eardrums, they enter into a surprising place of rest. The propriety of the situation is left for later discussion.

#answered ask #bonniebarstowofflag #Michael x Bonnie #Bonnie x Michael #Bonnie Barstow x Michael Knight #knight rider 1982 #random drabble #long reply

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