#ive heard the boys is good but its so transparent about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

linopetal · 3 years

Text

boba shop.

pairing : beomgyu x reader

genre : crack , fluff , little angst ????

summary : what happens when beomgyus favorite boba shop closes and he finds a new boba place with a cute employee ?

i will try and post as much as i can !! i hope you like this new series of mine ^_^ ive had this idea for awhile < 3

word count : 917

authors note ! : sorry this took awhile to come out. i was dealing with exams and then when they were finally over i just needed some time to myself :( ive been so exhausted from school and now being down with it , it took me awhile to regain motivation. im not making any promises but i WILL however TRY to post once a week !!! im not the best at writing like this but im decently proud of this. ENJOY LOVES !!

masterlist

You were so incredibly nervous for today. You keep on glancing at the clock until it finally hit 5 pm. beomgyu should be showing up any minute now….you thought. As you were getting lost in your thoughts Kira , your coworker , came up to you. “ Hey y/n can you close up for me after you and that boy get done with your project ? My mom needs me home for a family dinner tonight so I can’t do it “ , she said looking at you. “ Yes of course ! No problem Kira “ , you said while sending her a soft smile. “ Thank you so much y/n ! “ , she said waving bye. You waved back at her and turned back at your phone hoping you would get a notification from beomgyu that he couldn’t make it because you were beyond nervous. About ten minutes went by and you decided to go grab a snack in the back of the store. When you came back you heard the door open and there stood a nervous looking beomgyu. “ Uh hi y/n “ , he said scratching the back of his neck. “ Oh hi ! Uh do you want some boba or anything before we start ? “ , you asked politely. He shook his head , “ No its okay ! Thank you for asking though “. You gave him a soft smile in return and headed towards one of the tables , motioning towards him to follow. “ Shall we begin ? “ you asked. “ Yes we shall “ , he said giggling.

Mrs. Parks had assigned a poetry project. It was due by the end of the month. The poetry project was supposed to be about a poet that both partners liked and finding a poem written by that poet that describes your relationship or perspective on your partner. Then you both have to explain why you both chose that specific poet and poem.

You enjoyed poetry. Your mom always told you that you were gifted in the ways of words. You were never the type to verbally express how you felt , instead pen and paper where your outlet to communicate with your feelings. You could be as raw and transparent as you like with zero judgment. Thats why poetry was always your hidden talent. Beomgyu on the other hand , didn’t exactly like writing poetry. He never thought to give it a try. But reading was a decent thing he thought. He didn’t read often , nor did he particularly enjoyed it but some poets and authors had caught his eye at one point or another.

“ What poets do you like ? “ , you asked him. “ I don’t know to be honest. Truthfully , I haven’t given that question much thought until we were assigned with this project “ he responded. “ Ah I see “ you said nodding. “ What about you ? What poets do you like “, he asked raising an eyebrow. “ Mhm would you even know any of them if I answered “ you said smiling and teasing him. “ Try me “ he said. “ Its hard to narrow it down to one. I absolutely enjoy poetry. But I find myself most intrigued by love poems. I know its basic and cheesy. But to answer your question , Pablo Neruda I guess “ , you said looking right at him. “ Oh yes I’ve heard of him ! He has some good works. Why do you like him so much ? “ he questioned. “ Thats hard to answer. I like the way he expresses himself by not exactly using feelings in the poem. He uses nature and its cycle to symbolize love and that has always intrigued me. I love how his mind works and how he perceives love. Its quite beautiful. “ you said , smiling towards the end. Beomgyu’s eyes softened at the way you spoke about the poet. “ Wow that does sound beautiful y/n. I agree. Mhm I guess today we found the poet we like ! “ he said happily. “ Ah thats good ! I need to close the store up now but how about tomorrow or sometime this week or next week we meet up again ? Whenever you’re free ! “ , you said. “ Sounds good to me “ he said.

“ I am gonna close up the store now and take the train home. See you tomorrow at school ? “ you said smiling. “ See you tomorrow “ he said. As he was walking out the door your mind worked on impulse and somehow magically managed to slip out , “ Oh beomgyu wait ! Can I give you my number ? I think it might be more convenient unless you don’t want to of course ! “ , you said nervously. He was kind of caught of guard but he of course complied. “ Oh yes I agree ! Here’s my number “ he said , handing you his phone. “ Bye now y/n. Get home safe , okay ? “ he said in a semi worried voice. You thought it was cute how he was acting worried about you. “ I will Beomgyu , you too “ , you softly smiled and waved goodbye. Your heart would not be able to calm down for the night , you were sure of that.

#beomgyu #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu #txt #txt fake texts #txt fanfic #txt imagines #txt scenarios

61 notes · View notes

intricate-oeuvre · 4 years

Text

On how to be deadly || Geralt of Rivia || part I

A/N: Hey! I finally, kind of, did it! xD Based on lot of things, the Netflix series, the books and the games. Just so I can do background check. Let me know if you wanna be tagged in the future chapters. P.S. the tittle might change, not sure about this one atm.

Word count: 1k+

Summary: Axelia is Witcher experiment herself and has gone through same harsh Trials as Geralt, but she wasn’t so lucky with the outcome. Her vision didn’t become better. Therefore, she was rendered blind in the end. And because of that, she solely uses her Witcher senses to make her ways. Only potions can give her false sense of sight for limited time.Somewhere along the way she meets the Rivian. Who’s interested to know how she’s been killing monsters and hasn’t been killed herself yet.

Warnings: Nothing. Not for the first chapter.

part I || part II || part III || part IV || part V || part VI || part VII || part VIII || part IX || part X || part XI || part XII || part XIII | Epilogue

Everyone had heard about Geralt of Rivia. About Witchers and their wickedly good senses. The ways they fought monsters. About the ruins of Kaer Morhen huddled against the stone precipices- the partially demolished trapezium of the defensive wall, the remains of the barbican and gate, the thick, blunt column of the donjon.

The ruins that once stood tall and intimidating. Where in older times, witchers trained and underwent mutations. And to become one, you had to go through several gruelling stages or the witcher trials. First there is The Choice, which involves dietary changes and immense physical training.

Then there is the Trial of the Grasses, in which the young soon to be witchers, if lucky, consumed various alchemical ingredients which affected the nervous system. The Trial of the Dreams involves mutation of the eyes, bone marrow and hormones. And the Trial of the Mountains. Sometimes these processes where were enchanted from time to time, as a test of new elixirs and mutagens. Typically, this meant even more pain, vomit, or worse. Geralt emerged from these experiments with a lifetime of foul memories and the loss of pigment in his hair.

The Trial of Grasses was designed to work on boys and men, because women have different hormonal composition than men. Therefore, they were required to do new research. That’s why a girl from the same kingdom where the school was located, had been delivered on the doorstep of Kaer Morhen. As a test subject. It is known pretty well that females how lower survival chances when it comes to the Trials of Grasses.

Through screams, pain, vomit and shit, Axelia of Kaedwen managed to survive the Trials. But unlike any other witcher before her, she wasn’t so lucky when it came to obtaining cat like vision. In the end all that it led to was a blind witcheress.

Most of her life she lived in the witcher school. Unsure where such hexer could be of use.

It had turned into a gloomy day. The sun couldn’t be seen no where near the sky. It was the most ashen weather. But at the same time, it was dry, didn’t feel humid. Her head was bent down, as if she was carefully looking down where she was placing her feet. One in front of the other. But the black till like material type of blindfold was across her eyes. What point of the eyes if you don’t see? She was walking through a field filled with dry, white-ish grass, that somehow resembled her white hair. Her right palm was constantly dragging atop of the tall grass, as if she was feeling her surroundings. At the edge of the field stood pine trees. At start they seemed placed randomly, far from each other, but the more one stared, the thicker and deeper they went, turning into black endless mush. Wind blew peacefully, gently moving the ends of her hair and moving grass all around. As if someone had told her to stand still, girl abruptly stopped at the edge of the woods. With exhale she lifted her hands and untied the transparent blindfold and secured it at her hip. Looking in to the deepness of the trees, a gust of wind blew her hair behind her, deep growling sound coming from somewhere deep with-in. Reaching for a Cat potion at her belt, she took a swing and shivered. Her milky eyes gaining only cat-like black slits. She looked behind herself, where she had come from. Nothing but fields of grass and hills and mountains in the distance. Little to the left was small grove and behind that was hidden small village, only smoke from the chimneys could be seen above the trees. Turning back to the dark forest in front of her Axelia stretched her left hand to the closest tree. Her fingertips expertly scanning over the bark and caught on the ridges that were left there.

“Bear. Or wildcat. Wouldn’t leave marks like theses with-out a reason. Nor as deep.” She whispered to herself. Remembering what villagers had said to her: that lone wanderers had been lost, never coming back and a lot of dead dears around. Rolling her neck, she reached for the silver blade on her back and with wicked smirk on her lips she walked into the dark forest.

What she didn’t know that while standing at that field, was the fact that she wasn’t the only witcher in the village.

One problem with the same monster, two people willing to pay to get rid of it.

As Geralt was about to step inside of the forest, leaving Roach in the field where she with-out worry fed on the grass, he was hit with a familiar smell, that he couldn’t pin point at the moment. Velvet rose and sandalwood. And the deeper he went into the woods, the strong the smell got. And it was accompanied with sound sword cutting through flesh, screams and groans and yells and hisses. With his silver sword in his hands he slowly made his way towards the source of the sound.

With an agonizing scream which didn’t sound human like, silence took over the dark forest. Now only using smell as his guide, Geralt made his way towards the war zone.

Finding now dead leshen. A woodland spirit that only lives to kill. The one that was responsible for the dead wanderers in the woods. Some fire was still flaming in the patches of grass and branches, which indicated the use of Igni. Everything of its body seemed to be laying somewhere around. There was one hand, there was a leg. But the deer scull head with antlers seemed to be missing.

“Here to steal my coin.” A female voice said behind the witcher. But he had felt her approach her before she had even opened her mouth. With elegant spin, Geralt had grabbed her sword that had been pointed at his back and turning both of the around, held its sharp edge against her throat.

And suddenly that smell of velvet rose and sandalwood seemed stronger than ever.

“Axelia of Kaedwen.” He stated, his brows furrowed. Her being the last person he thought that could be here.

“Geralt of Rivia.” Axelia gritted through her teeth and elbowed witcher in the ribs.

~~~

part I || part II || part III || part IV || part V || part VI || part VII || part VIII || part IX || part X || part XI || part XII || part XIII | Epilogue

tags: @901seconds

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #the witcher x reader #netflix #henry cavill #geralt of rivia x reader

551 notes · View notes

maplecourtesy · 3 years

Text

TAZ:G NOTES, EPISODE 30

BIG THREE-ZERO TODAY LADS!!!!! ARE WE EXCITED?? also i dig this episode title so much

that war would result in a lot of people dying. yeah as wars often do

ALTHEAAAA ALTHEA SONG<333333 MISS ALTHEA ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[most of the content under the cut, because spoilers!!]

oh right we’re jumping right in before they get arrested. fun times!!

SALOON DOORS ARE SO GOOD AESTHETIC-WISE TRAVIS DON’T BE MEAN;; theyre not Meant to be practical its meant to be Cool.

OH THAT MUSIC JUMPSCARED ME. ooooo spooky. ominous.

CALHAIN WAS TARYN(?)’S FIANCE??? OH BOY THAT’D BE AN OUCHIE.

firbolg ur so cool but that was So many different things u said. if that hadn’t worked out it’d be very disappointing.

oh i missed hearing griffin’s laugh ive only heard justins voice for a couple weeks bc ive been binging sawbones,, it makes me happy :]

WHJBSDJF THE DECEPTION ROLLS

AND THEY WERE EXTREMELY TENUOUS ASSOCIATES. oh my god they were extremely tenuous associates... (2)

fitzroy like totally did rip off calhain’s hand.

HEY TARYN DON’T CALL EM PIECES OF SHIT THEYRE JUST SOME GOOD BOYS;;;

i think i would like to live at the heroic oversight guild.

stink buttsman… dougie goodname…hey griffin ur the funniest man on earth.

why is fitzroy whining about this. how is this gonna get u guys in for blueprints or whatever.

THE OLD BIN CRAB. THE OOOOOOLD CRAB SLIP. THE OOOOOOOOOOLD CRAB HANDOFF. SNIPPERS GO!!!!

the episode description says “angering a friend” so i doubt the conversation with althea will go swimmingly.

ooo this music;;;; AVENGING ANGEL THATS SUCH A COOL HERO NAME???? E V I L???!??!?!? OOOHOOHOHOHOOOO THIS IS SO SEXY I LOVE POWERFUL EVIL WOMEN

oh this tension is so narratively sexy thats a perfect moneyzone moment

OH THIS MUSIC IS SO COOL THE ENERGY THAT WE’VE CREATED IN THIS ROOM IS INCREDIBLE

YEAHHH FUCK LABELS

oh is this why she and barb fell out??

hey now villains that are flashy and showy and all about the performance are the Sexiest. respect the drip althea.

GOD FUCK CAPITALISM I FUCKIGN HATE CAPITALISM OH MY GOD. IM GONNA KICK THIS GOVERNERS ASS HOW DARE U RUIN ALTHEA SONG’S, MY WIFE’S, LIFE. THEY’RE GONNA FIX THE SYSTEM ALTHEA DON’T WORRY.

oh this music it reminds me of like?? the beginning of graduation…this .with the firbolgs speech……what the fuck i’m so emotional. *a single tear rolls down my cheek* fuck it up!!! talk ur shit king!!!!

YEAHHHHHHHH FIRBOLG. YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. AAAAA I AM SO HAPPY I LOVE FIRBOLG. THIS IS SO GOOOOOOD.

justin ur literally the best. i respect u so much. justin’s mind works in such an incredible way and his words are So Impactful even when he’s just bullshitting. i love him.

AVENGING ANGEL!!!!!!!!!! LETS BRING BACK THE AVENGING ANGEL!!!!!!!

I LOVE ALTHEA SO MUCH;;;;;;;;;I LOVE UUUUUUUU THATS MY WIFE. LETS FUCKIGN GOOOOOOOOO. IM SO EXCITED. LETS FUCK SHIT UP!!!!!!!!!

WSHDJBFSDBFHJSHJDFHBSHJ THE MUSIC BUILD UP OH THAT WAS FUCKIGN HILARIOUSJNSDKJF GRIFFIN WAS SO SURE HE’D JUST SAID A REALLY COOL ENDING LINE.

BLUEPRINTS BLUEPRINTS BLUEPRINTS. THIS IS HOW U GET THE BLUEPRINTS!!!! ASK UR COOL HERO FRIEND TO HELP U DESTROY THE SYSTEM SO SHE SHE JUST GIVES EM TO U!!!

im very excited for the rest of this i love althea song Dearly if i haven’t been transparent enough about that.

#taz #taz graduation spoilers #taz grad #taz g #taz graduation #taz grad spoilers #the adventure zone #the adventure zone graduation #taz episode 30 #sir fitzroy maplecourt #fitzroy maplecourt #argonaut keene #argo keene #master firbolg #the firbolg #taz notes by krys #krys talks

21 notes · View notes

theredleopardposts · 3 years

Text

Servitors Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Lay of the land

By HMK07

Beatrice Montes sniffed the afternoon air as her leathery wings glided her pitch black white veined demon form through the air at speeds comparable to a jet. "Ah Freedom, how ive missed it! I could eat all up." Beatrice mused as she twisted her body in the air ripping through the Detroit Michigan skyline. She then spied a dark haired, brown coated figure with blue transparent wings ahead of her about half a mile, The Unifying King. Both the murderer of her father warlock Michio Montes and her liberator The Unifying King alias Ardor Joncour sparked a mixture of emotions within Beatrice but for now she had no choice but to trust him. The Unifying King slowed his pace "You needn't worry Beatrice Montes, my home isn't much further".

Beatrice frowned trying to sound polite as possible "Just great your majesty. Im sure grateful for your offer as are my friends". Beatrice turned her head back and noticed her companian's the fire and ice demons, Paul and Frank flitting through the air. The two demons had served her and her father Michio Montes before her they were the closest thing she had to family allowing her to boss them around even though they were both older and stronger than her. Paul sped up towards Beatrice flanking her right side as Frank flanked her left as they followed the Unifying Kings pace. Paul smirked at Beatrice "Just look at him, youd think he was born into royalty or something! So B are we gonna get the drop on him and take his home from him? I mean killing the king would earn us alot of cred and allow us to establish ourselves in this new era".

Beatrice had considered the option of betraying the Unifying King but if half the stories she, Paul and Frank had heard from other paranormals about his majesty had been true then backstabbing him was not an option. Beatrice shook her blonde head of messy hair "No, boys we will wait until the time is right after weve regained our strength. Understood?" Paul nodded in agreement "Gotcha B". Frank nodded his agreement as well "Yes Beatrice". "Ahem, were here" the Unifying King spoke interrupting the trio's plotting as a massive three story mansion began to come into view. "What the hell, he actually owns a friggin castle?" Beatrice marveled at the size of the building, it was made up of three stories of greying dusty bricks with a red brick roof, dirt stained windows, a tower on both side of structure. Beatrice also noticed healthy green vines stretched across its outer walls giving the mansion an eerie feel to it. The Unifying King then lowered himself from the air to the ground landing no softer than a feather degenerating his light construct wings and motioned for Beatrice, Paul and Frank to join him.

Beatrice then tentatively landed her demonic form from the air clawed feet first with her companian's following suit onto the mansions grounds shifting back into human form. Beatrice stretched her inhuman senses towered the mansions structure and heard no other heart beats save two coming from inside the two towers of the mansions and though she couldn't tell there origin she knew they weren't human. Beatrice grimaced "He lives here all by himself? How can he stand it?" she then walked up towards the massive wood front doors of the mansion her sense of touch let her know that something was moving underneath her feet below grass itself. Beatrice hastened her pace followed by Paul and Frank respectively practically racing towards the massive doors. The Unifying King had a look of amusement on his handsome face at his three guest bowing his head as he opened the massive doors with as shove of his hands.

"Welcome to my home, or should I say our home as long as you'll have it" The Unifying King stated as his voice echoed along the mansions first floor which was had several tables made from fine wood, statues carved from marble, paintings by various artist and fancy furniture along with a hundred doors and a stair case that led up to the subsequent floors. The massive scope of mansion seemed to engulf the four occupants. The Unifying King began the tour "I built this place for...myself quite some time ago". The Unifying King paused as if remembering something "There are a hundred rooms on each floor, below us is the basement, and garage". The Unifying King looked at Beatrice Paul and Frank to make sure he hadn't lost their attention "The towers on the mansions sides house two dragons, one per tower". Beatrice was flabbergasted "You own dragons? Seriously?" she asked half shocked. It was true that every sense paranormals came out that dragons were revealed aswell but for someone to own one was almost unheard of, just what had she gotten herself and the boys into?

The Unifying King began heading towards the stair case "The first floor contains the kitchen, living room, library, game room and throne room among others." The Unifying Kings foot steps appeared to become more weary as the group made it up the stairs as if something weighed on him. "A throne room, really"? Beatrice mused inwardly "just who the hell does this guy think he is....oh wait" She continued walking. Upon reaching the second floor the Unifying King motioned his right hand towards the various rooms "Here on the second and third floor are the bedrooms and observatory! After ive given you the tour you can choose whichever room you'd like to stay in, they all come with baths and clean clothes within the closets. "My own bathroom, thank god for that" Beatrice mused. At the facility she couldn't get a decent bath due to the showers being coed. Having all those eyes on her naked body was not a good feeling and all the more awkward was having Paul and Frank starring at her and eachother. The Unifying King headed back down stairs leading the small group with him guiding himself down the silver stair case back to the first floor and quickly led them behind the back of the stair case. Once at the back of the stair case the Unifying King pressed his hand against its base causing a door to open revealing stone steps leading down a shadowed hall way. "Down here is the basement and garage" The Unifying King led the way down as Beatrice, Paul and Frank followed. "Down here is were I keep my armory of weapons and my vehicles" The Unifying sated as the group reached the base of the stairs through suffocating stone stair case. The basement was just massive as the floor above with various medieval weapons adorning its walls swords, axes, bows. Just about every weapon linked to knighthood was on display like a museum.

The floor of the basement was a different kind of museum, cars galore decorated the stone floor from Detroit muscle cars to european sports cars as well. Paul was impressed "Hmph, his majesty apparently has taste" Paul grinned as he drank in the sight of all classic, new cars and the weapons. The moment of awe was interrupted as the sound of rolling thunder was heard through the basement. The Unifying King smirked "Ah its time to feed the dragons, follow me" he urged the three. Beatrice instantly steeled herself even with Paul and Frank by her this was still a frightening moment this was the first time shed seen a real dragon up close. The Unifying King spoke as if reading Beatrice's thought's "There's no need to be afraid you three, my dragons are tamed, I assure you" he stated as he led the three up the winding towers stairs to the towers metal chamber door. "That's what Im afraid of" Beatrice thought herself silently reeling herself for whatever terror laid behind the towers thin metal chamber door. The Unifying King dug through his pocket looking for something and produced a gold key pressing it into the doors lock. The opened door revealed something only spoke of in legends, before her eyes was a massive long tailed brown scaled reptilian creature with green slit eyes. The creature spread massive leathery wings similar to her own when she'd shifted into her demon form. "Effing huge" Beatrice whispered as the creature took notice of her and released a low growl towards her and the two demons with her. Beatrice was instantly on her guard with Paul and Frank in front of her with a blink. "ENOUGH HANK" the Unifying King roared to the dragon causing it to seat itself on its hind claws and pure out a mixture of a chuckle and growl. The Unifying King then walked over to the left side of the dragons chamber and produced a massive slab of raw meat too large of one man to carry from a large freezer.

The Unifying King laid the slab of meet down with ease of a bag of rice "Here you go boy. Eat up!" The dragon sniffed the meat growling a low grown through its fangs and bellowed forth a large a blast of flames onto the meat charring it and proceeded to eat it up breaking whatever bones it contained down its throat. The Unifying King then looked distantly distracted for a moment "There's no need to check up on Drew, my other dragon he's asleep best too let him stay that way". The Unifying King then led the trio out of the Dragon's chamber and back down the stairs into the basement. "So what do guys think of the place so far?" The Unifying King asked quizzically of trio. Beatrice speaking for three cleared her throat "Its a lovely home, but we don't have any way of paying you for letting us stay here" she shrugged. The Unifying King narrowed his eyes as if considering something "Why don't you three work for me for now on? Ill allow you to live here and Ill even pay you!" The Unifying King offered. "Why would you do that? After everything you've done to us and vice versa" Frank questioned the arrangement. The Unifying King smiled "Because Frank its a new world and I could've killed you three on the way here, particularly when you were plotting to kill me" The Unifying Kings gaze penetrated the three of them.

Paul shifted on the balls of his feet uncomfortably somewhat regretting what he proposed to Beatrice on the way to the mansion. "Anyway, Ive business to attend to Ill leave you three to decide the duties you'll take on, feel free to explore the rest of the house, Ill expect as answer by morning" The Unifying King then disappeared back up the basement stairs with a blur of motion no human could've have tracked with there eyes. Beatrice, Paul and Frank stood in the vast basement mulling over the choice before them and the dragon chambers between them. Frank spoke up first "Ok Beatrice what's the play?" The Ice demon looked down onto the young half breed woman before him. "What ever choice you make ill stand beside you as I always have." Paul nodded in silent agreement with Frank. Beatrice looked between the two demons, they'd been with her through the death of her father, the owning of her club, imprisonment and now this. "Ok boys lets go to the game room" Beatrice commanded as she led them up the stairs like a general with her troops. Beatrice at a normal pace despite her inhuman stamina she was exhausted mentally at least and she just needed a moment after all she just went participated in prison break and had been offered a home and job by a the half angel warlock that killed her father. Beatrice, Paul and Frank had made their way up the stone stairs and closed the basement entrance behind them making their way towards the game room opening the wooden door that guarded it. The game was big enough to host a party in a bejeweled chandelier eliminated the room, its selves packed with board games and video game consuls alike. In the corner a television caked with dust the smell ruffled their sensitive noses.

"For someone with the title "King" he really doesn't take care of this place does he?" Beatrice questioned aloud. "Yeah" Paul and Frank agreed breathlessly. On a table the laid a deck of cards "Ok boys how about a game of old maid, who ever wins get to pick our jobs! Sound fair?" Beatrice asked with a sly grin. "Well I guess but I have to warn you Im not gonna go easy on you little lady" Paul said a devilish grin on his face. Frank chuckled as he pooled up a chair "I think you two better get used to working under me for now on." Beatrice rolled her eyes pulling up a chair sitting in it and began cutting the cards using her paranormal speed to blur the motion of her hands and the cards. Her father Michio Montes had taught her how to cut cards when he raised her and she'd often when against Paul and Frank while imprisoned so this was merely a formality if anything their jobs had already been decided. After cutting the cards Beatrice dealed the cards to the other two players with a stone walled look on her face. The object was simple each player had to pick a card out of the other persons hand eliminating their cards careful not to pick the joker. Whoever was left with joker card lost the round. "Ok boys Ill start" Beatrice said with a sing-sing voice. Beatrice quickly reached over to Paul's hand picked out a card "Ace of spades, how about that?" Paul eyes betrayed a sense of worry "Oh bullshit on this, I quit...fold whatever just pick the jobs already." Paul had played enough card games with Beatrice to know what she was up too. Beatrice looked over at Frank who still held his cards fast "Then that means you get to be the...Butler Paul" Beatrice ordered her friend. "Oh goodie, boss" said Paul with and obvious air annoyance. Beatrice looked over at Frank like a shark trolling for prawn "OK Frankie boy its just you and me". Frank reached over towards Beatrice's deck with a air of caution and pulled a card Frank looked it over revealing it to be the Joker card and frowned. "Well I guess that you the chef Frank and me...the caretaker" Beatrice said with a smirk liking the title. Paul frowned "Well funny how that works out for you B" Paul said tensing a bit and getting up and making his way to his second floor room. "Im gonna get myself familiarized with the kitchen I guess" Frank grumbled feeling awkward about his new position.

"Don't worry Frank you'll do fine, Ill see you in the morning for breakfast" Beatrice teased as she ushered Frank out of the game room and back onto the first floor of mansion. "Ill see you two in the morning" Beatrice called to both Paul and Frank as she sprinted up stairs to the third floor at a normal human pace. Beatrice wondered the vast third floor and flitted from room to room noticing they all bore same design: A king sized bed against the wall, with the a window on the side and wardrobe with at the foot of the bed along with a bathroom in the corner. All the rooms were the same except for one, The Unifying Kings room. For starters it had twin wooden doors that seemed to peer at a person. Beatrice hesitated. "After all this was his room" Beatrice thought "Oh what the hell, why not? After all come the morning He'll be our employer anyway" Beatrice mused to herself as she pushed the double doors wide open to reveal a messy king sized bed with a telescope and window at its foot looking out onto the night sky. A wardrobe to side housed the Unifying Kings clothes and belongings and a bathroom at at the corner. Beatrice noticed the head of the bed had a sword rack on it presumably for the rapier sword he kept around. Beatrice Quickly held out her had sending a pulse of magic energy through the room only for it to slam right back into her sending her to the floor with slap to the chest. "No wonder he wasn't worried about us trying to kill him, he's enchanted his house. Just how powerful is this guy?" Beatrice thought as she picked herself up off the rugged floor of the Unifying Kings room and headed towards the one she picked out for herself.

When Beatrice reached her room she looked at the marsh mellow sheets on her new bed admiring them. No longer would she have to sleep on musty mattress of the facility she was in hearing the boys snore up close. She smiled and fell over onto the bed letting her mind drift onto sleep, before blacking out however she could have sworn a blue transparent winged figure had put covers over her resting body.

15 notes · View notes

madisonrooney · 3 years

Note

hi it's your secret santa! first of all HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! i hope you have a wonderful day! how are you celebrating, if you are at all? safely, i hope! either way i hope you manage to find a way to have a great day full of love!! consider my christmas gift a belated birthday gift as well lol. anyway i loved reading your last answer, it was so thoughtful and sweet. i realized after reading that i barely know anything about dove lol so follow up q: what about dove makes you love her so much?

sorry for the late response! the last couple days have been v busy and ive been super tired and dissociative on top of it so i made a point to save this bc i wanted to give it my full attention!

first of all thank you!! i was going to do a virtual meet and greet with one of my favs from jersey boys but he got confused about timezones so we rescheduled but were doing it next week! then i went to a virtual walt disney family museum panel, had pizza for dinner and watched some liv and maddie, my mom made a cookie cake that we ate while watching the grinch musical, and then some friends and i watched the jersey boys movie together over skype!

im so glad you enjoyed reading my last answer! and oof thats another loaded question (i love it tho)

- like i said when first talking about what drew me to her and liv and maddie, a big thing is just how much passion and love she puts into her characters. ofc she puts passion into every character she plays, but its the passion she puts into characters like liv, maddie, and mal that means the most to me. that goes back to the fact that ive dealt with a lot of negativity directed towards me for enjoying disney channel, and then you have dove out here saying “yah im a teenager/twenty-something who not only respects what theyre doing on disney channel, but puts my all into it” not to mention she even won an emmy for playing liv and maddie in season 4! i hope that passion and talent has started to change the conversation about disney channel, and tbh i think it has at least a bit. ofc, none of this is to say other people her age acting on disney channel arent talented and passionate, but idk, something about her has always stood out to me. i find her to be more animated and expressive than most. it can be hard for me to read emotions in live action movies and shows, so thats been really important for me. not to mention she was not only playing the lead but TWO lead characters on a four season show with distinct personalities but also subtle similarities. AND the main character in the biggest DCOM franchise in years for 5 years running now. PLUS the fact that there was a period where those were both happening at the same time. she was only 16 when she started all this and hadnt even had any big roles prior to it!! she had a lot of responsibility so it was amazing to see her not only pull it off, but excel at it.

- i just love like....her aesthetic?? shes always seemed to be a very old soul to me, into old jazz music and poetry and stuff like that. its just very charming. and for her to have that aesthetic on top of being a disney channel actress is a fascinating juxtaposition.

- this is kind of sappy and it gets tiring to hear it said over and over again but that doesnt mean it isnt true: i love how transparent she is about her struggles with mental health issues, trauma, and such. she has been for a long time but even more so over the last year or two. no shade to anyone else, but a lot of actors dont really give you a look into their personal lives, they just share and promote their product. im not saying theres anything wrong with that, its good to know what youre comfortable sharing, ive just felt all the more close to her with her being as open as she is, especially as someone who has gone through trauma myself, albeit different from hers.

- kind of connected to that, i love how important spreading kindness, positivity, and love is to her. thats another thing thats been said a million times but still, its very important to me.

for example. she’ll randomly tweet things like “i love you” a lot. im one to always think of the thought process that goes on behind whatever someone posts, texts, etc., bc personally i put a lot of a thought into pretty much anything i say or do before i put it out there publicly, probably bc of my social anxiety. even tho its a simple statement and takes her a couple seconds to post, she still had to have the thought “i want to remind my fans that theyre loved” or something along those lines. and she has this thought FREQUENTLY. to just randomly get a notification every few days or weeks or so of her saying something like that is just very heartwarming to me.

the reason i connected with miley so much when she helped me through my initial trauma was bc it felt like even if no one loved me, she loves her fans, thus she loves me. thus the person i love and admire the most loves me. even if its only one person, it can be enough. it was for me at the time. i feel that same way with dove. when she came into my life, i didn’t feel as unloved, but her love was still helpful to me.

- of course i need to specifically talk about her kindness in person too. dont get me wrong (ive been saying that a lot havent i lol), i totally and completely loved her long before i met her, but naturally, i love her 10x more after the experiences ive had getting to know her in person.

i could go ONNNNNNN about the experiences ive had with her, and i have lol, and if you already heard me ramble about this in the server i apologize, but the most important thing ive taken away from every encounter ive had with her is this: she always goes the extra mile. she always goes out of her way to make people feel special. what i mean by that is she could say/do HALF as much as she has when meeting me and i would still leave over the moon feeling loved. you can tell she does this in excess bc she really truly means it and cares about people like me, she doesnt have any kind of ulterior motive and isnt just going through the motions doing whats asked of her, she simply cares about me and the rest of her fans. some examples - the first time we met, i was sobbing (lol) and she hugged me for a really long time, rocking me back and forth, brushing my hair with her thumb, calling me sweetheart and honey. she even started to tear up a bit herself. - a couple months later, i went to my first liv and maddie taping. i was preparing to reintroduce myself (i looked a little different bc id been cosplaying as maddie the first time i met her) and ofc when preparing myself, i fantasized pretty heavily as i usually do and pictured myself showing her the pic of us on my phone, her gasping, jumping out of her chair screaming, and hugging me, thinking that was probably way more than i was gonna get. that is EXACTLY what happened. then she went on to tell me how my costume made her whole weekend. things like this would continue to happen where i would set the bar impossibly high and not only would she meet it but she’d exceed it. - our usual interaction from there on would start with her face lighting up when she saw me, her calling me some kind of cute name like love or baby, and then hugging me without me even having to initiate it. - when i saw her in mamma mia, i didnt know when id be seeing her again afterwards after pretty consistently getting to see her for 2 years, so i wanted to make sure we got some kind of closure. at the stage door, i reminded her how much she meant to me and just expected like an “aww i love you too” or something back, but she said “you are an angel in my life” and i will never forget that. obvs, i havent told her ALL the details about what she and her characters mean to me but like...she can tell. she can tell if im in a homemade maddie costume sobbing into her arms that theres something there, and shes VERY appreciative of that. - i thankfully got to see her at a meet and greet a few months later and every time i thought i should get going cuz i didnt want to hold the line up, she would just open her arms for another hug. speaking of being appreciative, she even said “thank you for being such a supportive fan.” as i left, i turned around to say one last goodbye. i made sure she wasnt with the next fan yet and yelled out “bye!” and she yelled back “I LOVE YOU!!” and blew me a kiss. again, its the little things. - i saw her at a small panel in new york a few months after that. she walked in the room when the lights were down as they were playing a clip, she quietly waved hi to everyone, then saw me and loudly whispered HI BABY!!! and stopped on her way to the stage to give me a hug. (then she looked at me from the stage and asked which way i thought she should cross her legs for the interview lol) - sometimes when she sees im next in line, shell give me a knowing smile or whisper “hi baby!!” or something like that. she saw me in the crowd after clueless and seemed to make a point to come to me last bc she knew wed be talking for a while, which we did. she even told me she’d seen me in the audience, asking if i was in the front on the left, which i was.

even all that is still just scratching the surface. weve “known” each other for 5 years now and every time i think she’s done the most she can do, she outdoes herself again. not to mention when im at these events, i see her treat all the fans she meets with all of that kindness too. naturally all of this has made me love her all the more.

- finally, lets just be honest here..........................shes REALLY fucking hot.

#gcwca secret santa #Anonymous

4 notes · View notes

obduratemoon · 3 years

Text

Sedimentary City 17: STALE INFINITY

Jan saw before him an elderly man who had begun to stoop with age, even as he sat with the arrogance of a king or perhaps the insouciance of a street urchin. Around him stood an assemblage of young graceful men, slender as saplings, inclined towards their boss.

“Here he is, boss.” Pyotr said with sudden deference, head bowed and downcast eyes as if scanning the floor.

“Ah, Jan. I heard you had a bit of a run in, but good to see that you made it. I sent my best, a jackal and a force of nature, a born destroyer of men. Thank you, Pyotr.”

Pyotr made a small bow and receded, leaving Jan before the boss. Rollo had disappeared some time ago.

The old autocrat flicked two fingers up and a thin attendant came to his side with an open box. He withdrew a cigarette and perched it then between parched lips. Here in this throne room it was yet dark and in the weak grey light the man’s lips looked ashen and desaturated. The attendant lit the end of the cigarette and the boss inhaled, slow and languorous like a yawn or a stretch. The cherry glowed bright and threw off a remarkable amount of warmth and reddening light. Jan could finally see the man’s face against that cherried flame: pale and wrinkled, the lines and folds of his skin looking like fine filigree work on an ivory sculpture. His eyes were dull and black like two pinpricks in the fabric of reality, as if the world were a mirage projected upon a skein and only through these two perforations could one glimpse at the uncompromising blackness behind it.

The old man coughed, a loud and extended hacking which reverberated around the room and went on for some time. Jan watched as this sentient organism was reduced to a series of automatic and uncontrollable spasms. An attendant came with a scrap of fabric into which the decrepit man spat some sputum.

“You see Jan, I owe your father a lot. We made a deal, a good deal for both of us. He is a powerful man up there,” he motioned his hands, gesturing upwards, “and I am a powerful man down here. I gave him my word to take care of you. I heard you got scratched during your journey, huh?”

“Yes, but it is patched up now,” Jan replied.

After the attack the three trekked in silence and in haste for a long time, Rollo hanging far behind and sporadically returning, smelling of fresh blood and viscera. At last the narrow corridors opened up to a large room with ceilings so high the light from the headlamps seemed spent before reaching any destination. It had three doors set in what seemed like an endless obsidian slab.

“We’re almost there -- one door gets us home. The other two: death. Another kind of home.” Pyotr smiled sardonically, “I hope I remember.”

Once inside Jan saw that it was a catacomb of pathways and dwellings, a hive for a listless population who cast furtive looks of awe and fear upon them. Many wore threadbare All-Suits and had the pallid and forlorn look of purposeless men. Everyone was given what they needed to live but what was this subterranean group of men to hope for besides their deaths. They would die stranded in this place, their lineage, which had groped like the proboscis of life itself suddenly curtailed in an egressless finality. For a human to want to continue living, pulled forward as if caught in the midst of a cavalcade by the hope of the myriad days ahead, the reality of the end must be constantly held at bay

“Good, good!” exclaimed the boss man. “Wouldn't do to have you damaged. Would you like to see what was exchanged for you?”

A beautiful youth with a shorn head and a neck muscled like a bull pushed in a large box covered by a crimson fabric. The frail authority stood up and circumambulated the box and, like a magician, he pulled off the covering.

Inside was a transparent box which held a pair of lungs, disembodied but breathing and animated, filling and unfilling in slow metronomic regularity. It was set like a gem in a pool of dark vermillion liquid like a siamese amphibian. The young man pointed a dull lamp at it so that it was spot-lit like a rare treasure. The old one smiled sweetly beckoned for Jan to come closer.

“What do you think, huh? They tell me this comes from a promising athlete. I wonder what happened for him to lose these. Probably threw it all away for some trifling idea. I hope you are not like one of these stubborn young men, so disinclined towards the project of staying alive.”

Jan peered into the box. It was an unnatural sight, the unconnected organ, removed from a former body and made to be all by itself, self contained and purposeless. At the moment it was respiring for no one.

The old man held up his hand and a lithe attendant handed him a lit cigarette. He took a drag and was racked by stuttering coughs. At length he regained control over his diaphragm.

“As you can see, my lungs won’t last much longer,” he looked at Jan, “I think it was a good trade. A life for a life. Your father will keep me alive for as long as you are alive. So, my boy, you must live here a good long while!”

Jan was not listening but rather he was still transfixed by the sight of the lungs breathing automatically in its mechanical bardo. Although organ transplants had long been routine and easy, Jan wondered at the uncanniness of it, this emigration of foreign flesh.

The surgery capsule has the shape of an octagonal cylinder, a solid slip of chrome. It is a kind of metallic sarcophagus. Contained inside is an array of arms and tools: auto-cauterizing scalpels, tubes, needles. The unit handles almost all surgeries including transplants. It can keep the organ bathed in a nutritious pseudo plasma until time for its incorporating into the target body. It is also capable of keeping a patient on multiple bypass for hours, a man can lay there fully eviscerated and organ-less for almost a week. It’s manifold tiny arms structured like a splay tree can suture the fractalized interface of vessels and nerves in parallel, drastically speeding up the critical step of connecting a new body component. Once the capsule is sealed it is absolutely sterile preventing any chance of infection.

The ability to so easily switch out organs heralded an age of semi immortality. The IV feeds deliver an assortment of nutrients, chemicals, and biologic nanobots: immuno-manipulators which can up or down regulate precise aspects of the body’s homeostasis as needed.

Medical science provides a pseudo immortality. While the brain could not be replaced, most organs could be transplanted, most limbs could be made cybernetic.

“This is your room, Jan, one of the best. I live nearby if you need me. Rollo lives in the barracks. I can show you sometime. We have arranged a companion for you as well, she will take care of all your needs.” At this Pyotr gave him a sly and significant look and repeated: “All of your needs.”

“She?”

“Yes, you’ll see what I mean. Don’t be put off, you are lucky. Very. You saw those people from before, you don’t want to be them. The boss man wants to give you something of your old life. You don’t have to worry about anything, she will bring you anything you need.”

Jan looked around the grey box of a room. A large low bed, a table with chairs, some organizers, a strange sculpture in the corner, a kind of interior obelisk. On one side an All Suit hung from the wall. On the other was a doorless entrance to another room, the bathroom.

“There’s no plumbing here, so she will bring you water and take care of your chamber pot. And food. The food they deliver here is laced with sedative. They want to keep us sleepy. We extract it out, don’t worry, but she will also bring you the pills we make from the extraction. There is a little extra in them. Rollo and I are not allowed to take them, we have to stay sharp. But you, Jan, you are on vacation now, haha.”

“What’s her name?”

“Her name? I forget, you can ask her, or maybe you can make one up for her.”

They stood there for a few moments in silence, the ineffable weight of reality coalescing in Jan’s chest. Was this the rest of his life?

“You’ll be ok. This is the land of no future. And the past is too distant. Here is only present. And there are no gods, only men. We didn’t make this world. We are free to kill and destroy, but also to create and be good. We arelike actors living in this nightmare, but at least it’s not our nightmare.”

Jan thought back to the pain amplifier, the phantasms that were urgent and real even though he knew they were crafted and implanted.

“Jan, I ask you. When you have nightmares, or dreams, there are people in them yes? Do you think those people suffer as much as the dreamer himself?”

“I’m not sure. Is there any difference between the dreamer and the dreamed?”

“Ah yes, I wonder too. Maybe the same. To kill is to die as well. That would make me and Rollo ghosts, yes? Haha!”

With a wry and bitter smile Pyotr turned to leave. Jan layed on the bed and looked up at the featureless ceiling. Long bereft of his old All Suit and belongings, he could not bring up a hologram of Eva nor anyone nor anything else from his past life. He ruminated over them in his mind but each pass of remembering seem to only wear out an image already vague and faded. To recollect is like bringing a deep sea creature up from the depths. On the surface it dies.

He lay like this for a long while, motionless and horizontal slowly passing and in out of consciousness, not sure if the room was a room or merely the shape of a room. Room shaped, just as he was Jan shaped. Then he heard a slight shuffle and saw someone laying things on the table. His heart raced.

“Eva?”

She turned, “Yes?”

Jan got up too quickly for his blood to catch up and felt dizzy. He saw a woman with short black hair and delicate features looking at him steadily without expression. Instead of an all suit she wore a dress, a simple one piece without much color or ornamentation.

“Oh … are you? No, you’re not. You’re the one Pyotr told me about?”

“Yes, I am to be your companion.” The sound of her voice was dusky and complex, imbued with rich harmonics and a hint of rasp. Jan took a few steps closer. Her skin was white as sheet paper, subtly translucent and pink displaying an intimation of blood flowing within her. She was neither tall nor short but very slight and insubstantial.

“I brought you some food.” she said, gesturing towards the table. A square of nutrition cube, brown and replete, sat upon a crude dish. Next to it were two pills and a glass of water. “The pills are the sedatives. It takes the edge off time.”

“Time.” Jan said to himself. The weight of time hit him in that moment; the aeons that came before him and would come after him, unceasing and unconcerned that within its endless expanse it contained all life and reality, all sadness and joy. It simply moved on like a ship apathetic of its boundless cargo.

Jan sat down and ate, an act which was no great pleasure nor chore. The nutritional cube tasted like garlic and mud. The woman sat across from him and simply watched, sometimes at him and sometimes beyond him. In a place with no windows, a person had nowhere else to look through.

“What is your name?”

“You can give me one. Perhaps Eva?”

Jan looked up at her in shock, into black eyes. There was a small smile on her face, an inviting look, or perhaps a simulacrum of one.

“No, I’d rather not call you that.”

After finishing his meal, he walked outside and looked down the long corridors which led off in both directions. Either terminated in darkness. The walls were bare except for doors and there was no one in sight. Except for the weak light escaping from his room, there was no illumination. All around him a forest of silence hemmed and contained the world into a small and quiet place. There was nowhere to go and nothing to do.

In the room the woman had scarcely moved. The table had been cleared except for the two pills and the glass of water. She sat with her head bowed and back slumped slightly as if in some indolent prayer.

Jan returned and swallowed the pills. He drank down the water like a man parched and lost in a desert. He lay down on the bed and the light seemed to dim and grow warmer with hues of vermillion and yellow. He felt a slackening and letting go throughout his body and could sense the viscosity of the fluid coursing through his veins and arteries. The bed, which had been firm and ungiving, seemed to depress in order to cradle him and give him the soft sensation of a perpetual and endless sinking. He was going down, further and further. He imagined sinking into a shallow grave where he could sleep forever within its downy indentation.

The woman came to lay on her side next to him and gently held him in her hands. Slowly she stroked his hair and the side of his face as his pupils dilated wide and round. She nuzzled him sweetly and the warmth of her thin body made Jan feel like he could live in eternity if only he were a rock or piece of dirt, thoughtless and un-discomfited by the howling wraiths inside him. Her light embrace reminded him of the cocoon he always yearned for, the start and the end.

It seemed like a blink of an eye but somehow now she was crouched above him. He saw her face above him, her keen eyes miscegenated with sorrow and cruelty. He could now see her Adam's apple working underneath the white skin of her neck and the veins blue as cobalt. She bent down to kiss his face now wet with tears. Her face blurred and oscillated between Eva’s and her’s, and sometimes to a third face which looked like no one he knew at all, a blank and abstract kind of face that seemed alien and suprahuman.

“Eva?”

“Yes”, she replied, her reed thin body arched over him like a leopard over prey.

#sedimentary city

0 notes

letholojimin · 7 years

Text

HOUR 3 (JJK)

STUCK SERIES - HOUR 3

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader Themes: high school au, badboy & fuckboy jungkook Genre: Fluff Word Count: 1,153 Summary: After being labelled the school’s biggest bad boy, Jeon Jungkook chooses to live up to the title. What he doesn’t know is that his arrogance will lead him to you.

HOUR 2 | HOUR 4 | MASTERLIST

“Wow, this place is amazing at night.” You breathe out, garnering the boy’s attention.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It is.”

After walking around with only the faint light of the moon to guide your way within the familiar hallways of your school, you finally found the maintenance room. Both of you had messed around with a few switches until after one specific click, the familiar whirr of fans and buzz of electricity began to ring in your ears. The lights had turned on immediately, leaving you two to squint in surprise.

“Shit!” He had exclaimed, the sudden brightness of your environment leaving you two to close your eyes for a few seconds. “That was painful.”

Soon enough, both of you guys have your eyes open and you simply nod in agreement. Basking in darkness does have its’ disadvantage for when you decide to turn on some lights. It wasn’t your fault your damn school had been irresponsible enough not to double check for any other living human beings in the buildings.

Sure, now you had fans every other corner whatsoever but for some reason, it was just extremely hot in the area. You’re fanning yourself with your palm, as if it would do you any good, in desperation. Jungkook removes his sweater and leaves himself in a black shirt.

“Is there no place in here with air-conditioning?” You blurt out, the warm temperature getting to your head. You did not find the maintenance room in the darkness just to continue suffering. He tilts his head to the side, trying to think of an area while you two continue walking aimlessly.

He hums, and starts to change direction. “The library.”

With his suggestion, you sigh in content. How did you miss that idea? You were literally there at least thrice a week. The place has the best air-conditioning system in your entire school but the problem would usually be the amount of freshmen crowding under the vents or the seniors shushing the younger classmen since they were studying profusely for their upcoming college entrance tests. The area was even more crowded during the exam season wherein everyone was actually trying to cram months of lessons into one week of ‘study sessions’.

Before you know it, you guys are entering the large, high-ceilinged area. There is moonlight glimmering in through the large panels on the right side of the library, the roof being transparent glass. You’ve never been there at night but with the dimmer lighting as compared to the day, you were sure you liked the place a lot better.

“Wow, this place is amazing at night.” You breathe out, garnering the boy’s attention.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It is. Especially without the noisy underclassmen. Those obnoxious little shits make this place a hangout spot.”

With his undeniably true statement, you burst into a small fit of laughter. Jungkook doesn’t miss the way the light hits your face in an extremely flattering angle which scares him because he only thinks about that kind of stuff when the moon is the only source of light when a girl’s under him. He also doesn’t miss how you try to cover your mouth in an attempt to stay slient.

“Why are you trying to be quiet? There’s literally nobody here to tell us shut up. “ He asks, lifting an eyebrow. As if to emphasize his point, he places the sides of his hands to surround his lips.

“WE CAN DO WHATEVER WE WANT!” He screams into the open area and the action makes you laugh even louder and hit his arm. He begins to chuckle at your reaction and makes his way to sit down on one of the tables near the shelves.

“Tell me, Y/N- what exactly has been worthy of being read by you?” He asks, leaning back on the table with his arms straightened and palms pressed flat on the surface. His gaze is focused on you and you usher to one of the shelves, quickly skimming through the titles.

Your fingers end up touching a classic- The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald and reminisce the one time you picked the book up back in your first year in high school. At that time, you only heard the name in your English class along with a brief idea of the novel but it had interested you enough to read the book.

You hand Jungkook the pocket book and upon looking at the title, his face lights up. “This is one of my favorite books!” He exclaims as he turns the brittle pages. “I take it that you like old stories? Classic, maybe?”

You nod, lifting an eyebrow. Jeon, widely known as a heartbreaker, reading these kinds of novels? There’s definitely a lot of things that this kid was hiding from the world. He gets up from where he’s been sitting and walks over to where you were previously and begins naming books, asking you if you’ve read them. From Pride and Prejudice to Wuthering Heights up to Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, you say yes to everything he’s said.

Only when he mentions “To Kill A Mockingbird” do you actually shake your head from side to side to indicate a no. He immediately pulls the book out from the shelf. “You should really read this book. It’s amazing.”

“When did you find the time to read all of these things? Not to be rude but you don’t exactly seem like the type to spend a weekend reading The Little Prince whatsoever.” You find yourself asking the million-dollar question and he nods slowly, understanding.

“Other people don’t really know the saying don’t judge a book by it’s cover, don’t they?” He retaliates, tapping the cover of the novel he’s encouraging you to read. “But to answer your question, I read all of these during my summers starting eighth grade. After football practice, I’d always pass by a nearby bookstore. The place introduced me to reading and I guess I began to like literature.”

You nod, making sense of his explanation. That was true- lots of people forgot that there was always more to people than they let on which was sad at times but you couldn’t help but feel guilty that you never really tried to speak to Jungkook outside of now, when both of you were stuck with each other in the confines of the school.

“Don’t take my quotation to heart, even I used to think you were just a basic goody two-shoes. We’re even.” The mood becomes lighter after that and the two of you continue to spend an entire hour basking in the night light and the comfortable temperature the library provides you two with.

Jeon Jungkook is a lot of things, and so are you. What he is tonight, however, is a young man full of surprises. And instead of worrying about how the rest of the night will go, your thoughts have turned around.

Now, you’re looking forward to the rest of the night.

HELLO IT HAS BEEN 14 DAYS SINCE I HAVE UPDATED STUCK AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS!!! IT IS MY EXAM WEEK STILL BUT PLEASE DO NOT HESITATE TO SEND ME QUESTIONS/REQUESTS/COMMENTS BECAUSE I APPRECIATE THAT <33

also wow this comeback is literally amazing i felt inspired to write this because of mic drop jungkook!!! also i will try to update more frequently cause ive been inactive as heck on this blog im sorry huhu

349 notes · View notes

skyphobe · 6 years

Text

skyphile

do you ever feel like. you've been successfully running from something for so long, but then. when you stop for a second to take a breath, it suddenly crashes back at you, like it was just there the whole time and you didn't really do a lot of progress of getting ahead after all?

morbidkind

yeah whats on your mind baby

skyphile

i just want to feel permanent again.

morbidkind

what do you mean??

skyphile

i hate looking at myself so much, it's like. it's a trick of the mind, like. it's not true, it can't be. the real me is still stuck somewhere, almost down to the skeleton and i'm dreaming all this up. and looking at myself is like. this taunt. yes, you Could have this, but you won't!! you put so much effort into being this, hell on good days you really believe you ARE this, but people aren't fooled and sooner or later they'll know. from the hole in your chest and all the other little marks. i'm grossly flawed at every corner. they'll see the skeleton boy again and know that's the real john and they'll leave, and who can blame them?? what did the old me ever do for anyone. nothing, that's what.

i wish. i didn't have to hide under a mask to feel like i look ok. like i deserve to be, talked to or loved. like i'm permanent.

i'm sorry i'm just unloading all this on you, god. i'm so happy you reached out when you did, in the way that is so you, i'm so blessed you exist in my life. i woke up to this?? gross gross feeling and i was talking myself into chickening out of addressing it, but sometimes it feels like you Can see right through me and i'm honestly in awe of how you still. put up with this and. you're just a blessing through and through.

morbidkind

oh john... you have made so much progress i see it every time i look at you thinking things like this doesnt negate how far youve come i know i havent been by your side for your whole journey but god i wish i had been to hold your hand and help you in any way i could but im here now and i want to help you see just how incredibly wonderful you are every time i look at you i see the most beautiful person ive ever known inside and out and im awestruck youre radiant and it pours from you from every angle with every kind gesture and tender word the real you is here with me right now and im holding his hand and i love him so much its beyond words and makes me all choked up just thinking about it youre permanent in my life and i dont know what id do without you im never going to leave you as long as youll have me

you dont have to apologize for anything ive been worried about you yknow??

skyphile

i'm overwhelmed at every turn at how much i love you. it was worth surviving every single thing knowing it led me to you and i'm just. i don't know what i'd do without this now. i don't ever Want to find out. i never not want to make you grossly envy-making gloriously happy and. you make it so natural to remember i can. no bullshit, just us.

morbidkind

youre beautiful yknow everything about youi really want to help you believe it too and ill do everything i can to be by your side every step of the way

skyphile

like fuck, i'm just. floored with how beautiful you are and every time you say something at me i'm literally. god i Must have done something Very right or sucked some potent RNG dick to be here, and i won't. ever take it for granted or let go.

morbidkind

you always deserve the love you receive john every last bit of it

skyphile

i'm sorry i worried you. have i been that transparent??

morbidkind

i know how it feels to doubt these things but ill always be here to remind you

no i think youve gotten quite good at hiding it

but i had a feeling something was wrong

ive been meaning to say something but i just didnt really know how to approach you about it i guess

im sorry youve been ruminating in this for so long...

skyphile

yeah... i think it's the one nail driven into my head that's just. taking so long to get out. it's frustrating. and it's easy to just believe it'll stay there forever and i'll have to keep walking around bleeding out like this.

morbidkind

i understand

skyphile

but i don't. want to hide. and i especially don't want to hide anything from you, no matter how bad or ingrained and. you make me believe in healing wounds. and big hello kitty band aids with kisses planted on them.

and everything feels better and manageable because you exist and i want to be all this for you right back.and i wanna. work hard to let go of the mask because these arms feel realest wound around you like this.

morbidkind

im always gonna be here with you and well work together through every last string on that mask youve tied so tight and when it falls away ill be there to show that it was you all along and youre just as beautiful as youve always been full of warmth and love and radiance abound

skyphile

i love you and i am endlessly thankful for everything you do. all the effort you put into looking after me. you're like a dream, except you Are real and. this is the real i want and will always cherish.thank you, sweetest...

morbidkind

i love you

skyphile

s sbhshs it feels surreal to be complimented like that by you. you're all that and more. no matter what i don't think you will ever stop making me blush for one.

but... i'll welcome every other change. i love you.

morbidkind

skyphile

huffs.💙

morbidkind

gonna kiss you silly now how about that

skyphile

i heard something about having me covered and be- YES.

morbidkind

hahaha

skyphile

THANK GOD, THE ONLY TRUE GOOD ENDING.

morbidkind

youre a fucking loser

skyphile

we're one track minds, you and i.

morbidkind

same thought strikes again

skyphile

hehehe. still feel like a winner every time those hands touch mine, though. 💙 get ready because this beefy mattress kisses back and he has So Much to thank and spoil you for.

morbidkind

xoxo

skyphile

😚😚😚😚😚

#long /#remember #starlight

0 notes

thetruthinlies · 7 years

Note

send 🎵and I will write a drabble based off the first song on shuffle!

Send 🎵 and I will write a drabble based off the first song on shuffle!

( Here’s what my beloved shuffle gave me. )

Evanescence- Listen to the Rain

( This took a while, really. Under readmore as always~ And allow me make a horrible joke; listen to the rain, as in listen to Squalo. Get it? Rain guardian? Haahah! Though he might not make an appearance on this, unless you squint. )( Word count: 1449 words )

He never once minded, the fall of rain.

Living beings cannot survive without “basic” needs. These needs are given such name because they appear so small, almost thoughtless, or never emphasized enough, but integral for survival.

In order for any vegetation, any being that breathed: the crusts that dried and croaked without a sound, the sons and associates of man, the children of nature, even what appeared to be inanimate, all required the grace of water. Believably, or unbelievably.

Otherwise a drought wouldn’t have devastating effects that it does in the world they co-exist in.

A living being can survive a month ( a week, or more? ) without proper nutrition so long as they had the pure fluid that made up 70% of their bodies, but could not survive more than three days without it.

The bare reason beings have not shrivelled and died yet, is because of the grace of rain, the providence of this simple, neutral, scentless, colourless presence of water.

Surely no one should take it gratuitously.

Yet, there are so many things in life that were, anyway.

-i-

Sitting at a windowsill with his face resting on the glass, there was a black inked and indented pen in his hand that he slowly twirled. Beige coloured pages were blank, simply resting on his lap, those that had words inscribed on them were scattered onto the hardwood floor.

His glance shifted from those that were on the ground, to the transparent glass that caught him on the reflection. Although it was, with a lesser saturation of colour, focusing on letting the scenery outside to pierce through, allowing the light in the room. The rest were turned off, giving a faint grey outlook, save for the hued light from where he sat.

The right side of his body rested against the clear glass, shifting his knee to chest level, the other dangled down, despite the space it had to lay itself upon. His left hand, holding the pen, ceased the twirling, his free hand holding the composition book, keeping it from joining the papers on the floor.He watched as the clouds continue their journey within the clear but light sky.

What kind of story did the outside world want him to write today?

It seemed as though today was the “let-downer” season, as the sky began to beget a shower of tears, starting with small numbers. Alone in his room, devoid of any other sound than the drops hitting the ground, he remained at rest, allowing the drizzle to have an ear.

If he could get any closer to the windowsill, he would’ve. With a smile, and lowered eyes, he watched it fall down, seeing other and other specks that fell like army soldiers assembling for battle, singing and marching their tunes, with their backs standing tall and poise.

Here it was, crying at the window, pleading for someone to hear them out, allow them access to a place where they wouldn’t be ignored, shielded by glass and bricks that prohibited access inside, no matter how much it begged.

Evidently, the beautiful drizzle began to have an arm of support, the clapping thunder that alarmed people to open up, allow access, offer ears. Listen to their whispered secrets that were falling in vain.

Frantically searching for someone to hear Their story before they hit ground

“Is that how it is..?” with a laugh, his fingers traced on the ashen drops that were as clear as the window itself, but able to stand out, make their sights noticeable. “Then let me”

-ii-

It no longer mattered if everything would be doused by the rain.

She called, and he answered.

He needed to let things be free. This meant the book that was in his gentle hold.. as well as the window who shut away the silent request of the rainfall.

Let it be so that the rain did not need to cry anymore. There it was, relentlessly running like a child eager to tell the parent how their day was, be it their first day at school.. meeting a new person.. having a good time under the sands of nature.

It kept coming in, and with every step, layered all that was touched by the rain with water. The loud chattering of the thunder that intimidated any normal man, wanting those walls to keep protecting them from imminent harm. Those who scorned at the sight of those water drops and their little dances from the sky. Those cruel clouds who blocked the sun that they looked up to.

Ra and Apollo’s beauty that circled around from day to night, granting light that purged the darkness away, being shrouded by those dull coloured and heartless sailing of clouds. How dare they.

But to this boy who must’ve been dead before he even started to live..

He who stood alone, letting the book and pen fall to the ground, soaking, drenching, chilling by the boundless stories that couldn’t fill enough pages. He who became the canvas for the passionate squall that was aggravated by man’s ignorance, the lightning that tried in all his effort to lighten up the harsh storm, and finally, the tranquil rain that kept striking at him, even falling off of him because of an overwhelming, concentrated amount on a limited space.

“There’s no need to cease nor slower.” he laughed lightly, remaining close to the windowsill, even if that meant he would fall like the rain drops on the ground. The crystallic wall that was no longer standing to keep him in place.

“I’ll hear all of it..”

There was no need for him to run away, the beautiful sea that spoke better than any animalistic species could ever muster.

It’s just too hard to say goodbye, after all.

Was there ever a limit as to how much a person could listen?

-iii-

His eyes that were open for so long, were finally shut. How long were they open, he wouldn’t know. A conversation, no, a dictated happening could be as long as the horizon line that divides the earth, the equatorial line that defines the warmest place within the molten core of the planet.

Everything that laid within the empty room; the papers that were scattered all around the body that was laying down, seemingly off of the windowsill it once sat upon, the shelf that was made of oak, the potted plants on the side. If someone were to look into the room, they would’ve thought it was a foolish act, almost as if he was trying to forfeit his life, a method to torture the immune system into failing on its constant guard it worked hard to maintain.

Washed away as the rain that washed the grounds, that hit every child of nature, the walls that remained standing, but cold to the touch.

To the unconscious eyes of his, he thought none of this. This was love that was all around him, something that his older brother had stressed to him about. No one who existed that could live without being held in the embrace of love.

Seems as the contrary, his eyes now, were finally open.

The tears that were finally able to sweep away peacefully, happily because there was someone who would hear every word, even if that meant no benefit to him. A world that seemed unwelcoming, bothered by a person in need.. who bat an eye to the innocent suffering..

Maybe that was just an example of miscommunication, an assumption proven to be a mistake, untrue. There really was no such thing as standing alone in a storm wasn’t there?

Those figures that were drawn in hieroglyphics, the ones that scientists would deny the mere abstract thought of.. maybe they really were close to mankind that they think.

You may feel you’re alone…. But I’m here still with you.

Was there a possibility that no living being were ever abandoned? Forsaken from the hands that protect, those that save?

That smile that was on his face never left.

Perhaps this is what he dreamed to do.

-iv-

“Were you finally heard?”

The storm was calm, the tears had stopped, and the melody had finished recording the new tune that was formed.

Asleep he finally was, steady despite the chilled cold it brought in.The pen that escaped his grasp laid above, with it’s dark, jet black ink sprayed out. The papers that were spread apart were blank, with its beige colour clear and unused.

And that composition book that laid open.. The one whom he wanted to write upon, inscribed with a font smooth, cursive and fluid like the rain drops.

“Listen to the Rain..”

#viderxanima #;memekend answers #;the genius or the trump card ( seer of heart )#;say your word and i will give you a story ( drabbles )#;ask to tag

1 note · View note

retrowarriors · 7 years

Photo

Remembering Working Designs

A tribute to non-literal translations and over-the-top packaging

By: Chris Saturn

I’ll always remember my 23rd birthday. It was the first year that I lived alone. No roommates, no girlfriends, no family. Just me and a small rabbit with apparent anxiety disorders named Ephraim. I couldn’t talk my way into getting the day off of work, but I did have the following three days off and a plan on how to spend them. Square-Enix had given me the gift of re-releasing one of my all-time favorite games right on my birthday. I’d stopped by the Electronics Boutique on my way home from work and picked up my copy of Final Fantasy IV Advance and went home to enjoy a long mid-week weekend. Before starting the game, though, I powered up the ol’ internet-machine to catch up on my message boards and the day’s news. That’s when I saw the headline: “Working Designs Officially Dead.”

The news hit hard. A week that was meant to be filled with happy nostalgia was instead clouded over with the knowledge that a big chapter just closed in the history of video gaming, and that several people in one of the most open and transparent video game companies were now unemployed. Even now, nearly twelve years later, I look bad with sadness when I remember that day. Fortunately, thanks in a large part to the transparency provided by Working Designs and its president, Victor Ireland, we don’t have to ask how it happened.

First, let’s rewind a bit; many people may not remember Working Designs. Gamers outside of North America may have never even heard of them. So let’s pause and reflect on what it was that made Working Designs such an important component of the history of video game localization.

Though I played some of Working Designs’ early releases on the TurboGrafx, they first caught my attention with the first release of what is arguably their signature franchise: the Sega CD game Lunar: The Silver Star. As a fan of JRPGs like Dragon Warrior and Final Fantasy, I was always looking for something new. The US market wasn’t oversaturated with the genre like Japan was, so western fans had to hunt for their next fix. The Sega CD market wasn’t exactly a crowded space, so Lunar definitely stood out. Anime cutscenes, voice acting, and 80’s style hair metal? Sign me up. Pushing past those first impressions, the part of the game that truly stood out was something I’d not really focused on in past JRPGs: the script.

Out were the thees, thys, and thous of Dragon Warrior. In were references to MTV and The Simpsons. This wasn’t some stuffy tale of knights and dragons, this was something relatable. Something like I’d seen on TV and in movies. As the years went on, I greedily snatched up anything I could find with that pink gradient logo. Though the games varied wildly by genre, they all had at least the one thing in common. No matter the tone, the setting, or the gameplay, they all had Working Designs’ trademark tongue-piercing-fully-through-the-cheek translations.

In the early days of gaming, few considered localization to be important at all. If the players could figure the game out, that was good enough. Although looking at Castlevania II, I don’t think they were even up to that standard. Many younger gamers didn’t even realize games were originally from other countries, and just accepted the broken, machine-language as a staple of video games. Then came this company out of Redding, California who not only put a ton of effort into translating their games, but into making the script fun to read.

As the sun was setting on the Sega era and Sony was rising to prominence, Working Designs followed the money over to the PlayStation. Big name games like Final Fantasy VII turned the JRPG from a niche genre to a behemoth international industry. Despite their high quality translations, Victor Ireland and his team needed a way to stand out. In a move that seemed bizarre at the time, Working Designs became one of the first companies to offer special Collector’s Edition packages. Several of their Sega games came with foil-embossed covers, but they truly went above and beyond on their PlayStation games. The 32-bit reimagining of the first Lunar game came in an oversized box that included the game (with limited, randomly selected art on the discs), a soundtrack, a behind-the-scenes documentary, a leatherette hardbound artbook/instruction manual, and a full cloth map! The second PlayStation Lunar game even included a full replica gold pendant, as seen in the game! It was probably imitation gold, but with Working Designs… it’s hard to say for sure.

As the PS1 era drew to a close, Working Designs seemed to predict the downturn in popularity of the JRPG and started to diversify their portfolio, mostly with shmups and games about mechs. While these never sold at quite the level of their JRPG offerings, the commitment to quality was as present as ever. Games like RayStorm, Gungriffon Blaze, and Silpheed: The Lost Planet all featured signature Working Designs quality localizations and even had foil-embossed covers.

Despite my heavy praise, the company certainly wasn’t without its critics. Many in the budding online JRPG community were concerned about the loose quality of Working Designs localizations. What original flavor text was omitted so that they could squeeze in a Who Wants to Be a Millionaire reference? Would it have added more to the flavor of the world if Ruby hadn’t referenced Beavis and Butthead? As many fans as there were of Working Designs topical references and not-so-sly humor, there were plenty who pointed out how quickly the games would appear dated, an argument that certainly appears to hold true today.

Another attack frequently lobbed at the company was their, shall we say, lack of commitment to punctuality. It wasn’t uncommon for Working Designs games to be delayed by months or even years from their originally planned ship date. These delays were often unrelated to the games themselves, and often were caused by an inability to find a partner to produce their increasingly extravagant bonus items at the quality that would satisfy Victor Ireland. Delays in making the cloth maps for Lunar: Silver Star Story Complete grew so excessive that Working Designs shipped playable demo discs of the first several hours of the game to retailers to hold-over fans who’d pre-ordered. Alongside those demos came a now infamous punching puppet doll of an in-game character, an item that surely couldn’t have led to further delays or costs.

This over-commitment to quality and value, alongside their malleable relationship with release dates, ultimately led to Working Designs’ demise. The western JRPG market became flooded in the late 90s and early 2000s, and Working Designs’ attempts to stand out ended up costing far more than they could earn. Their releases were too few and too far between to compete in an increasingly aggressive market. Their final product was to be a translation of Konami’s PS2 Goemon title under the localized name Mystical Ninja Goemon. Despite getting approval from Konami, Sony’s US division placed increasingly impossible standards on the game, critiquing the graphics and interface. Having already poured so many of their few remaining resources into the game, they desperately tried to meet Sony’s standards to no avail. Over a year after their final release, the days of Working Designs ended with a fizzle.

It’s easy to see the influence Working Designs has had on the video game industry. Special collector’s edition items have become commonplace, and colorful localizations are found everywhere from The Legend of Zelda referencing doge memes to Final Fantasy XIV referencing the music of Wham. The people of Working Designs spread across the industry, as well as to other industries. Victor Ireland has formed a new company, Gaijinworks, that is equally devoted to bringing over Japanese games with high quality translations, and equally devoted to ignoring whole pages of calendars. Ashley Angel, the voice of Lunar’s Alex, went on to a briefly successful career as a winner of ABC’s Making the Band and became the frontman of the MTV-backed boy band, O-Town.

Looking back at that day in 2005, I still feel somber. The loss of a smaller, but still influential name in video gaming has left wounds that haven’t yet healed. Companies like XSEED and NIS America (as well as Ireland’s own Gaijinworks) have taken up the mantle of localizing and publishing lesser known Japanese titles, but none have quite had the charm and spirit that Working Designs showcased in its prime. The industry may have grown and matured, but I’ll always hold a warm spot in my heart for that time when a small group of people in California could introduce me to the lesser known games that might otherwise have gotten lost in translation.

#Working Designs #Video Games #Translations

0 notes

republicstandard · 5 years

Text

Justin Welby is Suffering from a Terminal Case of Confirmation Bias

It is the mother of all misconceptions and the father of all fallacies. It is incurable and infectious. Cognitive scientists could well refer to this dreaded disease by calling it cognitive cancer or the Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome of the mind. Instead, they refer to it by the rather innoxious label of confirmation bias.

This is just as well, since the Most Rev’d Justin Welby, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Chief Custodian of 80 million Anglican souls is suffering from a terminal case of this degenerative pathosis as he let slip an interview with Justin Brierley on Premier Radio last week.

“In my own prayer life, and as part of my daily discipline I pray in tongues every day—not as an occasional thing, but as part of daily prayer,” Justin the oil-wallah told Justin the journalist. “Part of my daily prayer discipline is expecting to hear from God through people with words of knowledge or prophecies,” the Archbishop added.

The half-hour parley was a masterstroke in massaging the wobbly allegiances of evangelical and charismatic Christians in the Church of England about to make for lifeboats as their Titanic sinks after an almighty bonk against the LGBTI iceberg.

“Look at me, I’m filled with the Holy Spirit, I bring Christians together, I speak in tongues, I’m alert to prophecy, God speaks to me, don’t make for the lifeboats, together we can save the Titanic,” Captain Welby seems to be bellowing down his bullhorn, with all the persuasiveness of a bald salesman peddling a magic hair growth tonic.

No one with an iota of media nous should be surprised at how the media latched on like limpet mines to the bit about the Archbishop “speaking in tongues.” The top-most English cleric admitting to yammering gloopy gibberish just before his morning cup of Frappuccino is enough to make an Etonian’s toes curl like Ali Baba’s slippers. Poor Welby’s publicity pony threw a shoe.

The Daily Mail fantastically concluded that our Justin actually “speaks unknown languages as part of a spiritual experience.” The comments sections exploded with a rotten tomato-throwing competition as delirious commenters flung the fruitiest insults at Cantaur, whom they thought had gone completely cuckoo.

“The funny thing about glossolalia (Greek for speaking nonsense) is that the ‘language’ produced has the same characteristics as the speaker’s own language. So a Russian charismatic will talk rubbish that resembles Russian in its sounds. When the Bish talks rubbish it no doubt sounds like an upper class English patrician blind drunk,” scribbled one wag, rather unkindly. “I always thought his preferred language must be Russian or German as of Marx,” doodled another.

Poor Justin (Brierley, not Welby) had to jump into his fire engine and hosepipe the towering inferno with an apologia of “why the news need not come as a shock.” Justin’s defense of Justin (Welby, not Brierley) was based on the chestnut of argumentum ad numerum (If many believe so, it is so). “Yes, Justin Welby speaks in tongues. So do half a billion other Christians,” sang the headline.

A more credible headline might assert: “Yes, Justin Welby speaks in tongues. Because it’s biblical.” I have absolutely no doubt Welby uses the gift of tongues as his private prayer language. Indeed, it is heart-warming to know that the Archbishop is tuned in to the spiritual gifts listed by the apostle Paul in his first letter to the Corinthians—prophecy, tongues, interpretation, healing, et al. “Now I want you all to speak in tongues, but even more to prophecy,” writes St Paul.

We must commend Welby for doing what he does because St Paul commands him to do so in the epistle to the Corinthians and Welby believes that the Pauline corpus of letters is Holy Scripture.

Understandably, Welby will have to contend with liberals who scorn anything supernatural and some evangelical Christians who believe that the “sign gifts” existed only during the apostolic period before the formation of the biblical canon and have now ceased. These Christians call themselves cessationists.

What all Christians agree (at least in theory) is that Paul’s ethical teaching in his letter to the Corinthians (and other epistles) has not ceased. Thus, while some Christians are cessationists when it comes to spiritual gifts, all Christians are continuationists when it comes to Paul’s moral teaching—e.g., no Christian will insist that Paul’s instructions against incest in 1 Corinthians 5 has ceased and is no longer valid for today.

This is where the cognitive consultant holds up an X-ray of Welby’s cranium, furrows his eyebrows, purses his lips, and in a strained whisper tells Welby the tragic news of his terminal illness. “Old boy, I’m afraid it’s rather grim. You are in the last stage of confirmation bias.”

Justin’s jaw hits the floor. “I’ve never heard of this malady,” he croaks. “Do you think I picked up a virus in Nigeria, or perhaps Pakistan?” The consultant looks quizzically at the Archbishop. “If only you’d read classics at Cambridge, you’d know the Greeks first diagnosed this disease. In The History of the Peloponnesian War, Thucydides described this plague: ‘For it is a habit of humanity to entrust to careless hope what they long for, and to use sovereign reason to thrust aside what they do not fancy,’” professes Mr. Consultant.

Confirmation bias is our tendency to cherry-pick information that confirms our existing beliefs or ideas. We give special weight to information that allows us to come to the conclusion we want to reach, while shying away from contradicting information, grasping for a reason to discard it because it is so unpalatable for our brains. The eye only sees what the mind is prepared to comprehend.

Welby cherry-picks and dutifully obeys Paul’s teaching on tongue-speaking in 1 Corinthians. So why does he cold-shoulder and willfully defy Paul’s imperatives on fundamental ethical issues in the very same letter to the Corinthians?

On same-sex genital behavior (as on a number of other sins), Paul is scorching.

“Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.”

This is a softball interview with Justin Brierley, and when Welby is asked about the hot potato of sexuality, he equivocates and does not give a straight answer. Instead, he points to his very own illness of confirmation bias:

“Read the Bible carefully. Not just the bits you agree with but read it carefully and seek God’s wisdom.”

If Welby speaks in tongues and listens to prophesy, can Welby tell us what is it in the above verse—part of the revealed Word of God—that is so ambiguous or difficult to decipher? He wouldn’t call for “good disagreement” over idolatry or stealing or greed (especially in its capitalistic avatar), would he?

Progressive scholars like John Boswell have argued that arsenokoitai refers to “active male prostitutes” but the majority of scholars, even those supportive of homosexual practice like Dan Otto Via, William Schoedel, and Walter Wink, agree that arsenokoitai designates a general condemnation of male-male intercourse.

Even Bernadette Brooten, a lesbian New Testament scholar who praises some of Boswell’s work, writes:

“Boswell argued that ‘the early Christian church does not appear to have opposed homosexual behavior per se.’ The sources on female homoeroticism that I present in this book run absolutely counter to those two conclusions.”

Dan Via, despite his unstinting defense of gay sex, concedes that the Bible’s prohibition of homosexual practice, in both Testaments, is “absolute.”

In the very next chapter after Paul claims: “I thank God that I speak in tongues more than all of you,” the apostle categorically affirms the bodily resurrection of Christ. “Now if Christ is proclaimed as raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead?” asks Paul. “If Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain, and your faith is in vain,” and “your faith is futile” and “we are of all people most to be pitied,” Paul repeats ad nauseam.

So how come only a couple of weeks ago, Welby blindsides this central pillar of Christian teaching and appoints as his ambassador to the Vatican, John Shepherd, a cleric who publicly from the pulpit denies the bodily resurrection of Christ? How come Lambeth Palace has the audacity to tell the press that this heretic is a priest of “good standing” and “due diligence” was used when appointing him?

In 1 Corinthians, Paul also commands Christians not to go to court against other Christians. “To have lawsuits at all with one another is already a defeat for you. Why not rather suffer wrong? Why not rather be defrauded? But you yourselves wrong and defraud—even your own brothers!” writes Paul.

Welby’s buddy is Michael Curry, Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church (USA). Curry was invited at Welby’s behest to belt out his Beatles all-you-need-is-lurv homily at the royal wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle. Curry’s church is fighting cutthroat lawsuits against conservative Christians, which by the end of 2018 was estimated to exceed 60million dollars. Even more scandalous is how the church ‘is becoming less and less transparent in disclosing the waste on this huge scale’ by not breaking down ‘legal aid to dioceses’ or ‘Title IV expenses’ as ‘separate line items in their monthly statements’.

Paul emphasizes church discipline in the same letter to the Corinthians, calling for a defiantly immoral and incestuous member of the congregation to be excommunicated and “handed over to Satan.” A few chapters later, he warns people who are living in habitual sin of dire consequences—even sickness and death—if they eat the Lord’s Supper unworthily.

How very odd then for Welby’s bishops to be issuing fatwas ordering clergy not to exclude anyone from Holy Communion “on the grounds of their sexual orientation or gender identity,” which is prima facie acceptable because the statement does not refer to “practice” but in the very same ad clerum banning “intrusive questioning about someone’s sexual practices or desires” on the basis of the Archbishops mantra of “a radical new Christian inclusion.”

Speaking in tongues is not a gilt-edged guarantee of Christian orthodoxy. Paul himself underlines this in 1 Corinthians 13: “If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.” This is not the ‘lurv’ Michael Curry or John Lennon is describing, but agape—the highest form of self-denying and self-sacrificial love which love which embraces the truth (2 Thessalonians 2:10) and “rejoices in the truth” (1 Corinthians 13: 6).

Jane Ozanne, the high priestess of pansexual perversity in the Church of England, speaks in tongues. “Out of nowhere words started forming in my head and coming out of my mouth—strange foreign words that I had never heard before,” she writes in his autobiography Just Love. Ozanne, like Welby, takes prophecy and words of knowledge seriously, while sticking two fingers at biblical teaching on sexuality.

Justin Brierley should know that it’s not just half a billion other Christians who practice glossolalia. George Cutten writes in An Ethnological Study of Glossalalia:

“Glossolalia is practiced among non-Christian religions: the Peyote cult among the North American Indians, the Haida Indians of the Pacific Northwest, Shamans in the Sudan, the Shango cult of the West Coast of Africa, the Shago cult in Trinidad, the Voodoo cult in Haiti, the Aborigines of South America and Australia, the Eskimos of the subarctic regions of North America and Asia, the Shamans in Greenland, the Dyaks of Borneo, the Zor cult of Ethiopia, the Siberian shamans, the Chaco Indians of South America, the Curanderos of the Andes, the Kinka in the African Sudan, the Thonga shamans of Africa, and the Tibetan monks.”

Plato refers to ecstatic speech that is unintelligible, so does Virgil in the Aeneid. Glossolalia appears in the Eleusinian, Dionysian, and Orphic Mystery Religions, as well as in the ancient cults of Mithra and Osiris. Sibyls and Pythias were known as well for their practice of glossolalia and ecstatic speech while under trance induced states. St Paul would have been aware of this phenomenon and so does not make it the litmus test for biblical faithfulness.

Justin Welby is not alone in his terminal illness. His pom-pom cheerleaders, including Premier Radio, are themselves deluded by a hefty dose of cognitive dissonance. They cherry pick his love for glossolalia while circumnavigating his conspicuous rebellion against other areas of biblical teaching. They conveniently ignore the fact that the most spiritually gifted church in the Pauline epistles was also the most immoral, fractious and disorderly church.

They simply cannot see the bizarre contradiction that Archbishop Justin who is a continuationist when it comes to spiritual gifts is a cessationist when it comes to the sexual teaching of the apostle Paul!

from Republic Standard | Conservative Thought & Culture Magazine http://bit.ly/2MprcpR via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Republic Standard | Conservative Thought & Culture Magazine

0 notes

l-brouillette · 6 years

Text

Marinette's Diary (1) (its my first one. Go easy on me)

Ever since Glaciator, i have noticed there is more to Chat Noir than i first thought. Like, maybe i was wrong about him.

One night, Chat landed in front of me on my balcony, "I hope im not bothering you Marinette."

I blushed a little, "no, of course not."

We leaned against the rail in silence for a few moments, just watching Paris. The silence was getting to me a bit. The last time he had stopped to see me he had been upset. Is something wrong this time too? Should i ask? Does he even want to talk about it? I nibbled on my lip, debating with myself, when he looked over at me and smiled.

"No, nothings the matter. It was just a beautiful night, i didnt want to enjoy it alone."

What??! Had he just read my mind??!

"Uh- w-what makes you say that?" I stuttered, straightening up suddenly.

He looked back out over Paris, still with that knowing smile on his face. "I figured you might be wondering, from your varied facial expressions!"

I frowned "am i that transparent?"

Gosh, if he could tell all that, who else has been able to read me so easily?

"Not really. But id wonder the same if i were in your shoes, so it was easy to tell."

"Phew!" I breathed a sigh of relief, and leaned back against the rail. "Well it is a beautiful night. Im glad you chose not to spend it alone!" I looked at him and smiled warmly.

I saw him blush ever so slightly. "Me too."

Silence followed for a long while after that. Knowing nothing was wrong, I could relax.

More nights just like that. Sometimes we would sit in silence. Others, we would talk of trivial things. How school had been. How was the bakery. The weather. Flowers.

Then one day, Chat asked the oddest question. "Do you believe in Love?"

It was odd to me, since that first time weever sat like this, we had both had love troubles. "Of course," I replied. "Don't you?"

He sighed, and leaned his head back to look up at the stars. "I dont know. Sometimes. Other times not so much. Its hard when you love someone who doesnt love you back. Or thinks your joking."

I knew he was talking of Ladybug, And I felt bad. But i also knew what he was feeling.

"I guess. It's hard when your feelings arent returned. But that doesnt mean I wish i didnt feel them." I thought of my feelings for Adrien, and how he only saw me as a friend, and grew a bit sad. "I can only hope that one day, things will be different."

I turned my head away so he couldnt see the flicker of pain cross my face.

"Do you - does your - does who you like, still not notice you? He asked hesitantly.

I sighed. Sure, hed have to ask that! "Nope."

"Who is it? Maybe i can help." He offered.

I didnt know how useful that would be, but at the same time, what could it hurt?

"Ah, his name is Adrien," i managed to get out, and immediately blushed. Just thinking of him made my heart flutter.

Chat looked surprised. "What?! I mean - wow!"

Embarrassed, I lowered my head, "ya, I know. Way out of my league."

"No no!" Chat insisted, as he put his hand on my shoulder. "Thats not what i meant at all. He would be lucky to have someone as great as you."

"Thanks," i smiled a little and looked at him, "for the vote of confidence."

With a sigh I turned back to look out into the distance, and we both just sat there in silence for a time. It was nice to have told someone else. Alya and the girls were fine, but to tell someone outside my circle of friends. Even if nothing happened from it.

"Marinette?" Chat broke the silence and turned towards me, "why dont you tell Adrien how you feel?"

I sighed, frustrated. "I've tried. Every time i get near him, I turn into a stuttering clumsy mess!" I got embarrassed just thinking of all the times i had embarrassed myself in front of him while trying to ask him out. Gosh!!

I looked over at Chat Noir to see him staring at me thoughtfully, and I blushed. What was he thinking??!

"What?" I finally asked him.

"Nothing." He brushed the hair away from my face and rested his hand on my cheek for just a moment. He gave a small smile and, "I just feel like im seeing a whole new side to you," he told me.

"Oh. Well you dont know me at all, so id imagine there are alot of sides you havent seen!" And gave him a warm smile.

He looked guilty for a moment, then looked away. "Your right."

"Did i say something wrong?"

He turned back to look at me quickly, "no no! You didnt. I didnt mean that! Don't think on it anymore!" And he draped his arm around my shoulders. "Just enjoy the view."

Somehow it was comforting to be with Chat Noir this way. Soothing. Who would have thought?!

I relaxed, and rested my head on his shoulder and did as he suggested, and enjoyed the view.

I came to long for the evenings when Chat Noir would come to visit me. It was peaceful. I could be myself. I could be honest. And i didnt turn into a blubbering fool.

This night started like all the others. I sat in my lounger on my balcony, waiting, hoping, that Chat would swing by.

I wasnt dissappointed.

He landed in front of me with a soft "thud" and moved into a deep bow.

"Good evening Marinette. Mind if i join you for a bit?"

I smiled widely at him and sat up a bit, "of course not! I was uh, kinda hoping you would come by." i became a tad nervous as i admitted that. But Chat just smiled warmly at me. He sat at my feet and leaned his back against the rail.

"So Marinette, anything interesting happening with you lately?" He asked, with what seemed like a gleam in his eye, but i couldnt imagine why, so i just brushed it aside.

I thought for a few moments, trying to remember if there was anything that Chat could be talking about. I tapped my lip with my finger, trying to pinpoint something. Something about the Way he asked made it seem like there should have been!

I had managed to talk to Adrien the other day without stammering like an idiot. But why on earth would he care about that?!

"Uh, nothing really that i can remember," i said, still racking my brain for ANYTHING!

"Oh." He seemed dissappointed, and frowned just a bit. But why?!

"Do you know something i don't?"

"No no!" He waved his hands in front of him, looking sheepish. "I thought i heard a rumor that you were invited to a Photoshoot with Adrien, where he models your design."

"Oh!" I exclaimed! How could i have forgotten that?! "You heard right! It just, uh, slipped my mind a bit." I admitted with a blush. Usually everything involving Adrien is at the front of my memory. So why not this time?!

Actually, lately, all ive been thinking about is whether or not Chat would stop in. And sitting up here in my free time waiting. And hoping. Realizing this, it was kind of embarrassing. Especially when Chat was sitting right in front of me, looking, waiting for my answer. I didnt have time to digest this realization in private.

I blushed under his unwavering stare. "I uh, d-don't - i mean I had other things on my mind i guess?" Even to my own ears it didnt sound convincing. I could feel my face grow hot from the lie, almost like he could see inside my head and KNEW what i was thinking!

"Oh. That other stuff must be pretty important. Anything you wanted to share?" He asked. He looked puzzled while he asked, but goodness, what would he say if he knew the truth!

"Uh-" I looked about for some inspiration, anything, to get me out of this jam!

Chat took my hand and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss, "its alright if you dont want to tell me. I understand."

I blinked a few times in surprise. And blushed. What was happening?! Do i -love- Chat?? What?!

"I guess i, um, have just kind of accepted not being with Adrien." He looked surprised for a moment. I went on quickly, before i lost my nerve. "I, um, uh, kind of like someone else now. More."

I knew my face was beet red after that admission! And Chat was staring at me in surprise, or maybe it was disbelief. Did he suspect??

He stood up quickly, and stared down at me for a moment, before turning to look over Paris. He took a couple steps away from me, paused, turned and took a couple steps back towards me.

"Marinette..." He just left that hang there for a moment. "Are you... Saying what i think your saying?" He looked confused. And boy, that made two of us!

I shrugged my shoulders and tried to look casual. "I dont know. What do you think im Saying?!" God, was that me??! I sounded pretty confident, even to my own ears. Where had that come from?? I sounded like Chat Noir!

I looked back at him and smiled a little, not wanting to waste this sudden confidence!

He started to reach for me, then stopped himself, almost like he wasnt sure what to do. So i stood up, which forced him to take a step back.

I gave a smirk, channeling my inner Chat. "Nervous, Chat Noir??"

He took another step back, and hit the railing. "Uh, n-no," he stammered.

"This is a strange occurrence, isnt it? Chat Noir is speechless!" I teased him. I poked a finger at his chest and smiled up at him, "how does it feel being on the other end for a change?"

"Uh, kind of unsettling, actually." He admitted. Good. For once i wasnt the blubbery fool. Why could i be this Way now, but never before, with Adrien?

Well, no time to question it now!

"You didnt answer me," i whispered, "What do you think im saying?" I moved my face closer to his, and could see all the emotions running across his face.

Surprise. Nervousness. Wonder. Was that fear?

He still wasnt saying anything, so i slowly crept my hand up his chest. He looked at my hand, then at me, and back to my hand. But still he said nothing.

"Cat got your tongue?" I teased.

Thank seemed to snap him out of it, because he quickly put his hand over mine on his chest. "Marinette. Stop. You dont know what your saying. D-Doing. F-Feeling." He stammered.

I moved my other hand to touch the side of his face, and leaned in closer, forcing him to lean farther back against the rail. He moved both of his hands to grasp the rail on either side of himself, to keep himself from falling.

"Am i making you nervous?" I asked him.

"Yes. I- dont know what to do." He told me. "I dont know what to say. This isnt right. You like Adrien. You told me so." He seemed to be grasping at straws! It was so cute to see him struggle.

But i knew i needed to give him some space. Some time. So i stepped back.

"Your right." I told him. "I did like Adrien. But lately, all i can think about, is you. Dont worry," i continued hurriedly, " i know you like Ladybug!" Thatll be an interesting story when the time comes! I blushed a little just thinking about it.

It had been a long time since Chat Noir had said anything. I finally looked at him. He had a hand rubbing the back of his neck, like he wasnt sure what to do.

"Dont get me wrong, i really like Adrien still. But at some point, you have to stop pining for what you cant have, and find something you can." He still seemed odd. What on earth was going through his head? Had i made a BIG mistake?! Was he trying to figure out how to let me down gently? God! It would be so mortifying to be shut down by two of the guys i love!

"I get it. Dont worry. No reason to say anymore!" I could feel my eyes start to water up. And i wanted to leave as soon as i could, so he didnt see me cry. "I think you should just go." I turned towards the trap door to my bedroom. I'll just leave him up here. What he does from there isnt my problem.

I crouched to open the window and he grabbed my hand, "Wait Marinette, please." He sounded sad. Well good! I was sad! Why do i always fall for boys who dont like me back??!

I turned to look at him quickly, holding my emotions in as much as i could. He didnt say anything, just continued looking puzzled.

"What?!" I demanded. "Its fine if you dont like Me, but at least you could say it to my face instead of just standing there in silence, making me feel like an idiot!" And there went all my bravado, as a silent tear slid down my cheek.

He lowered his head, as if in shame. "I'm sorry Marinette, I was caught off guard. Shocked!" He took both of my hands in his, and brought them up to his chest. "Dont get me wrong, i am extremely flattered. And i hear what your saying, about not pining."

"Ya ya," i rolled my eyes and turned my head away, "you just think of me as a good friend and dont want to mess with that, bla bla bla." Chat blinked, wide eyed at my rudeness. "Its the same talk i hear Adrien tell everyone about me!" I pursed my lips, getting quiet angry with the whole situation!

Chat dropped my hands quickly, and scratched the back of his neck again, and looked guilty. "Uh, what? No! I dont say that! I mean -i wasnt going to say that!"

He stammered.

I folded my arms across my chest and stared at him angrily. "I hate lies. Especially when they are about me."

"Marinette, i dont know how to respond!" He exclaimed, clearly frustrated.

I turned back around to open my window, and looked back over my shoulder at him, "well then when you do, you know where to find me." And with that, i dropped down onto my bed, and closed the window behind me. I laid on my bed, and gave in to the urge to cry.

0 notes