#so let's not lecture the sermon and preach the lecture!

[quicksilverblue]

Awkward: Practicing your sermon, full voice, in your office...

At least it's a summer Friday and no one else is really here, and I did close my door.

But also I can just imagine someone walking by and hearing full sermon voice coming out my office.

Probably less awkward, though, then the time I delivered a scholarly article at a conference (a local one thankfully) in sermon voice...

#god don't let me deliver this sermon in lecture voice... #yes they are very much different things #If you heard them you would know #seriously at that lecture heads shot up like wtf is happening right now #and you could see confusion as people realized they had to listen to serious scholarship being preached #I mean it was well received #but also... yeah #so let's not lecture the sermon and preach the lecture! #also it's on economic and social justice #most my sermons are #unless they're on ecological justice

[its-metous]

Cravings (Cotl Headcanons/Drabbles

The lamb goes to declare another doctrine, only to learn that the declared effect touches much more than just the flocks cultists.

Hi Hi! Not really a shipfic, but I am def a narilamb supporter who really likes to make headcanons so do with that as you wish! Lamb here uses She/Her pronouns and Narinder mainly gets They/Them from the Lamb! Trigger warnings/reader warnings for cannibalism here!

It’s not every morning that when a sermon is given a doctrine is declared. Though the flock is always wary of it. Lectures on their possesions, their praise, their lifestyles all seem to cause a bit of panic in at least one or two individuals. So, when the lamb mentions cannibalism, she is not surprised to watch her cultists fall dead silent.

“My leader…” A duck speaks up sometime after the silence had fallen upon them, “Surely.” They swallow, and it doesn’t take a mind reader to know they’re anxious. “Surely, we wouldn’t need to resort to that would we?”

Several pairs of eyes follow theres to look at there leader, those who weren’t quite brave enough to speak up bobbing their heads and nodding along as a murmur starts to spread through the temple. It was a step up from the last time she had preached on sustenance, then, then they had gotten a feast. But. It seemed an uncanny follow up.

She laughs after a moment, her eyes slipping from suprised that someone had spoken up to amused and the flock seems to tense. “It’s not something that we would resort to per say my friends,” she places them tome back down on her podium as she leans up against it with a hand resting against her chin. “We are the devotees of The One Who Waits are we not? Is the death that our master grants the most devoted of us not something to be treasured?” The murmurs start up again, she’s got them thinking. Good, she smiles to herself.

A hand raises in the crowd from a short bunny trying desperately to be seen, “But we won’t have to only eat others right? Wouldn’t it be a threat to the cult if we only eat everyone? What of our farms?”

“You misunderstand me.” She straightens herself up and removes the crown from her head, holding it high for the crowd to see. “We’re not going to a diet of flesh, nor should you think of this as you would eating your favorite meal.” Her hand presses against her chest and she closes her eyes as if in a promise, “I would not ask that of you.” She hears the crowd breathe a sigh of relief as she opens her eyes, “But.” Perhaps she was getting a bit too much of a kick out of this, mind reading the Oh Fuck‘s had gotten fun. “I am asking that we take in stride our role as loyal followers to honor each life that Death lifts away from us. For they would not let our devotion fail us, so we must not let ours fail them.”

Perhaps, leaving the sermon, most of the followers do not agree with her declaration. But, they also seem relatively at ease with the idea for now, as most of the elderly chose to have themselves sacrificed or ascended leaving few corpses for anyone to have to worry about cannibalizing. At least, she thinks to herself, At least no one is thinking of dissenting from this doctrine. Though she can still remember the one badger that lost his patience when she started collecting tithes… Arguably the worst part of this doctrine was the few stray minds that seemed, well, “happy” about it. She wasn’t quite sure how to handle those individuals, at least not at the moment. Nor was she sure how she would handle her own gods opinion on her choice of commandments, the shepherd was quick to be amused by her decisions as the flock leader.

It’s almost noon when she finds herself still running around the cult grounds, unironically making up meals in preparation for her first crusade in Anura. How she’s going to actually start butchering the elderly that she can’t sacrifice or ascend? She’s not sure still. The only thing she’s really got going for her is that she’s decided she’ll probably just serve them well minced into the carnivore’s meals and not mention it. Everyone will forget about the doctrine if it goes unmentioned for a while. Even if that does mean, a while, considering that none of the followers had said much to her after the sermon. Maybe they just noticed her being busy. Though it does hurt a bit when only Jager waves her farewell on her way out to Anura.

It’s much, much colder than Darkwood she notes. It’s a blessing that she hadn’t sheared yet, even if it made it a bit more difficult to avoid the oversized frogs. Though, all around, it also feels a bit less dangerous than Darkwood? Less chaotic even, but that’s probably rather fitting given it’s bishop. Here, the creatures were simply easier to avoid, or come around from behind and swing at. Maybe it would be something to flaunt to the shepherd when she sees them again, another reason as to why giving her a bell wasn’t the smartest choice. It feels strange that they would have sent her to Darkwood first though, this place seemed so much easier. Just frogs, a few odds and ends cultists, and smoke, that seemed to be it.

She pauses rerunning through her thoughts as the smell clicks. There’s no visible flames for as far as the eye can see, so she drags her sword behind her and follows the acrid smell. It still seems like a red herring. The area is grassy and autumn like, just like the rest of Anura had been so far, but. Her eyes dip to a few small patches of soot on the ground spaced in the clearing. Something was here. Or, well it had been, she thinks as she steps onto one of the sooted areas and squats to examine it.

It wasn’t a smart choice. At least not in the moment, given how quickly a set of fireballs is shot out and allowed to connect with her head. She’s still writhing by the time she finds herself in the afterlife. Her hearing is slow to come back, but she can feel the room practically shaking with the shepherd’s laughter. “I know, I know, It was dumb.”

“Very.” They say, their red eyes in slits from their cheeks pulling up.

Her arms fall out from behind her and she slumps to splay out in the sand, she sighs. “At least you get some amusement out of it,” her hands reach up opening and closing at the cat leaning over her small form. “Home, I need to try again.”

They shift, reaching a hand down through the slightly loosened chains to have a claw poke at the center of their raised palm. “Are you sure you don’t have something to bleat about to me?”

“No.” She says it quickly, her hand other hand coming up to hold the claw as if it could be considered a threat. They merely poke her more.

“Are you sure? I could have sworn that a doctrine got declared today.”

“You’re mistaken.”

They huff, another hand reaches down and unceremoniously grips her by the back of her cloak and holds her over the other palm. If looks could kill they think. “Cannibalism. That is a sin among mortals you know?” She’s dropped, flailing before being cupped in the other hand with bangs falling over her eyes.

“Waste not want not right?,” she shakes herself and tries to right herself before the palm shifts again and she grapples one of the claws, “why,” the god stills, she blows hair from her mouth, “would you only give me those two options anyways?”

“Two extremes.” Its silent for a moment, “and its amusing.”

“Uh huh.” She shifts back into a sitting position deeming it safer, though she does not release the cat’s thumb from her arms. “Did you eat people? Like when you were free?”

There’s silence, then laughter. It’s hoarse, but the lamb smiles at it. She wonders if they only laugh when she’s around cosidering the other two cats never seem much for conservation. “I could have. Perhaps I did, It’s been so long though I can not point to it as a specific memory,” they hum.

The lamb nods and then laughs, “Y’know I thought you were going to tell me that’s what you did to the last few vessels.”

The god pauses, stunned before they smirk, and lift their palm above their head. “No.” The lamb grasps the cat’s thumb tighter as the palm starts to slip from below her, “It would just be what I’m saving you for.”

They drop her and she flails before finding her feet firmly beneath herself on the waystone. It’s hard to catch her breath as she can still practically hear the god laughing, it stings. There’s only so many curses she can think of and mutter under her breath to try and hide the embarassment, of course they wouldn’t actually eat me. Of course they wouldn’t, the thought repeats as she heads back into Anura before the sunrises.

The crusade is going better this time. It’s still a bit disconcertingly cool despite her cloak and wool, the thinner parts of fleece on her legs feeling the worst of it. But, she’s butchered far more frogs than she can count, and the fireball tree things that she still hadn’t named had yet to even singe her! All in all, her progress felt good with the first witness’s pathway at the edge of the heretic camp she had cleared. It takes little more than a yawn sneaking out of her mouth to lead her to sit down under one of the tents. Her head rests up against the side of it and her eyes close, not intending to sleep so much as take a break.

“Lamb,” the crown calls floating off her head and she hums in acknowledgement not stopping to open her eyes. They didn’t call to her during her crusades often, she’d asked once, they’d called themselves a distraction she remembers. “I have a request of you.”

She snorts, an eye cracking open to gaze at the crown floating in front of her. “I know, I’m on it.” The crown rolls its singular eye, and she struggles to stifle the giggle.

“A different one, I need you to bring me something.”

“Mm?” She couldn’t think of the last time when she got a request of him. Any demand really other than that of killing the bishops.

“A heretic.”

Both her eyes open up to stare at the crown in front of her. “What?” She sits up. “Wait actually how?”

There’s a soft harumph noise that comes from the crown as it shakes, pestered, “Sacrifice them to me. You have declared a change in my nature.”

“How did I do that exactly..?” The question drags but the crown replaces itself on her head, finished with the conversation.“ It’s unsettling so she rests no longer, manifesting her weapon as she heads towards the witness.

It’s quick work and she beams a bit at it, even though the crown floats from between her horns to look down at her. They’re frowning, but she likes to pretend they’re beaming at the witness she sends back to the cult too. She’s quick to start heading for the exit, until the crown does not come back towards her.

“Lamb. The heretic.”

She cocks her head over her shoulder, foot still in the air to march home, “Like now?” She eyes the crown then the exit, again.

“Lamb.”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you.” She mumbles shifting with her cloak to head back into Anura in search of any remaining heretics. It’s dark by the time she finds a camp she skipped over. The heretics seem unaware of their peers’ massacre by the time she arrives with a brandished axe. With the witness gone, they pose a simple threat, especially in such small numbers. It almost reminds her of the prochecy. Five, then four, then three, then two, then one. But she doesn’t let it reach nothing. There’s just the one left, broken and bleeding as she let’s go of the axe for the crown to form. They stand there, over the heretic as it whimpers. “So, how do I do a sacrifice in the woods?” She looks to the crown as it shakes. She finds it unreadable.

“Draw the ritual circle, do the ritual.”

“I don’t bring chalk with me into the woods.”

“I see an obvious replacement.” They hum lowering to the blood covering Anura’s floor.

She makes a face, sticks her tongue out and ‘“blehs”. “That’s kind of gross.” but the god does not seem to care as it stares at her.

She shifts slightly more so out of discomfort than anything before sighing and reaching her hand into a corpses blood to drip a circle into the ground. There’s no candles, but the sun is rising so she can see at least some of what she’s doing. Even if the main thing she’s seeing is her own bloodied hands and wool. It takes a moment and there’s a residual gross feeling as she finishes and looks towards the heretic who still hasn’t managed to do more than drag themselves into the brush. “Will you do the incantation for me?” she asks the crown floating behind her.

“Have you not memorized it?”

“Nope.”

“It would serve you well to be more dilligent.”

“Well,” the heretic screeches as she drags it back onto the circle, “I didn’t think I would need to know them so far from the cult.”

“Hmph.”

“Is that a yes?” she drops the heretic and they fall into its center.

“If it is the only option.”

There’s a nod from her as she starts to step out of the circle, wary of her face flashing up with blood like the last time. But it doesn’t come as the crown speaks a bit too quick for her escape and she finds herself falling. Then it’s all white sand as she panics. “HEY!”

The two wardens are here this time, one smirks at her graceless arrival. Her eyes travel as she rights herself flustered and dusting off the sand sticking to the blood on her, freezing when she finds the god holding the heretic that seems to have fallen here with her. It smells wrong. And from her view below it seems to be decaying within the gods grasp, she finds herself lucky to always be in the god’s good graces. They eye her as she oggles them and speaks “So kind of you to have not butchered this one into quite so many pieces.”

“Yeah…” her voice trails off as she continues to watch the blood drip off them. “Why, actually how. How did I change you?” she asks hands making air quotes around “change” in particular.

They grin, “watch.” And she does, eyes widening as the god tips their head back and devours the heretic in much the same way they had dropped her in their previous meeting. She flinches, the other two cats ears flick back to ignore the horrible sound of bones cracking.

“You..?” The puzzle pieces aren’t fitting. “You eat people because of me?”

“Close.” They hum licking their lips as they slump downwards, resting their arms against the sand to look the lamb in their eyes. “You declared a doctrine in my name. Do you think it has no effect on me?”

She stays quiet and the cat snickers as her metaphorical gears turn. “I declared you to be… a cannibal?”

“No. You’ve declared me to be a lot of things, this is just one of the things I can.” They gesture to the small pile of blood before them, “indulge in?”

She frowns and shakes her head, “Gross. You’re gross.”

“You declared it.”

“Yeah, Yeah,” she hums before her eyes go wide and she moves towards the god, “Wait,” a finger gets pointed in the smiling cats direction. “Does that mean you were actually threatening to eat me the other day?”

There’s a cheshire smile to the god as her voice peaks at the false realization, they’d laugh if they had not done so so much already. “I suppose you’ll find out if you’re not quicker next time I task you with my cravings.”

“Death!”

They don’t hold back as a hoarse taunting laugh fills the afterlife. It’s almost bittersweet that this is their last vessel, yet the one they have had the most fun with.

#cotl oc #cotl narilamb #cotl narinder #cotl lamb #narilamb #headcanons #drabbles #in my head I think that Narinder isn't so much like #It's been quiet for too long. #Makes matters just a bit sad because the lamb thinks they're good friends #OH and like. main headcanon is that your doctrines have an effect of narinder. he thinks lamb is an odd creature #but entertaining as hell!! #tw cannibalism #tw violence #tw death

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Shamura meeting a spider s.o who isn't really apart of the cult and lives the life of a traveler but visits from time to time and members consider her to be a 'big sister' and people love to come to her for advice...

like she'll be pulling pieces of debris, leaves, twigs, pieces of mushroom, etc. from the lambs wool (which she had lectured him about a few minutes prior like "Lamb, you got this in your wool AGAIN?? I will not allow you to continue to talk to people when you basically have a FOREST in your wool, sit down and let me help you.") and Shamura is there and I feel like they have real deep conversations, maybe s.o telling him their story after a while, how they think that they might be from the Silk Cradle but aren't sure because they were taken when they were young and raised in the mountains ... just a little thing i thought abt haha

"I-I can assure you, [y/n]..I don't need-"

"Oh no, you absolutely do need this." You tutted as you made Lamb sit down on a tree stump, picking bits of mushrooms and leaves out of their wool.

They winced as you harshly tugged on a twig that was especially embedded in it, casting it aside once it was plucked free. "I need to do my morning sermon," they grumbled. "Can this wait until-?"

"There's still a few more hours till noon. I will not have you walk up to that podium with your wool being a literal Anurian forest! How do you keep letting it get this bad anyways?"

"I-"

"Actually..don't answer that."

"But...!!! Ugh, fine." With a pout, the Lamb sat with their cheeks puffed out, remembering that they couldn't order you around...as you weren't one of their followers. So you didn't have to abide by any of their rules.

You were a nomadic spider who traveled all across the Old Faith. Your heart desired adventure, but every once in a while it would lead you back to these temple grounds, and you'd witness Lamb's cult growing steadily with each visit.

When they weren't around, their followers would flock to you, having grown accustomed to your frequent appearances. You carried a lot of knowledge during your travels, so you'd share stories of your recent journeys and offer advice to those who asked for it.

Whether it's about something personal or just how to navigate through a domain safely, you had plenty of answers for most of them. Some followers even looked up to you as a sister, which made you happy.

The most important part of your visit, however, was ensuring Lamb looked their best before they went to preach in the temple. You always caught them after they return from crusades, finding them covered in earthly debris without a care in the world.

If this new "god" of the lands wanted to be taken more seriously...they had to look presentable to their followers.

But even so, they were quite the fussy one; stubborn like a child: Bleating constantly, kicking their hooves, and sometimes even demonically hissing if you suggest they removed their crown for a moment.

They only acted that way because Narinder saw you preening their wool once and mocked his former vessel until your glare shooed him away.

Fortunately, Lamb chose not to argue with you any further, making your job easier to finish.

It took a few more minutes, but their wool finally looked a lot better, so you sent them on their way to preach the Red Crown's gospel after bidding them farewell.

Whatever debris you plucked out of them went into a bag of silk you've crafted for yourself. Surely you can do something with the twigs, leaves, mushroom stems, and pumpkin seeds they carried back to the cult grounds--you couldn't let any of that go to waste.

"Greetings, traveler. Back so soon?"

The familiar voice made you perk up, looking to see Shamura standing there with a book in their hands. It seemed to be one from Silk Cradle, detailing trap layouts and designs.

You smiled. "Hello, Lord Shamura. And yes. I like to come and go as I please."

".....forgive me, but your name slips past me.."

"It's [y/n]."

"..ah yes, yes...Sister [Y/n]. Welcome back." They bowed their head politely. "I do have a question, if you have the time."

"Of course." You nodded, before frowning as you noticed the somewhat troubled look on their face. "What ails you?"

"...hm?" They blinked. "Do I look sick?"

"Oh, no. I mean..your expression. I've seen it on other followers, and it's usually because something's weighing heavily on their mind-"

"Why call me "lord" if you have not served under me?" Shamura abruptly interrupted, confused as their gaze went to the open book in their hands. "I have seen many spiders in Silk Cradle...but none quite like yourself. If only I could remember..were you a servant? A warrior? A merchant...?"

The more they struggled to recall, the more ichor began leaking through their bandages. And you could see it was physically paining them, too.

It made you wonder how they ever survived losing the Purple Crown, but then again it probably took a miracle from the Lamb to give them a fighting chance--a second chance.

Even so, you felt bad for Shamura. Their memory gaps kept widening despite their desperation to remember things and continue reading.

"Oh dear..allow me to hold that for you." You gently took the book away from them before the liquid could splatter all over the cover, closing it up. "I didn't grow up in Silk Cradle, but I'm sure I was born there. I only remember being taken up to the mountains..perhaps my family became deserters who disliked the violence."

"Hm...under my ruling, deserters would have been swiftly found and jailed."

"I see-"

"No, no..that's not it...they...would have been swiftly found, tried in my court, and publicly executed." They corrected themselves, huffing. "My apologies."

"...oh. Then I guess I'm glad we weren't ever found out." You awkwardly chuckled, having much preferred what they said before. "It seems your memory has been improving since the last time we met."

"Yes, indeed...indeed it is.." Shamura nodded, before you both heard the tolls of the temple bell, signaling that it was time for the sermon. "The Lamb calls..they are speaking now." They looked to you. "Shall we go together, [y/n]?"

"Sure." With a smile, you linked arms with them. "But as a fair warning, I tend to hang around the back and just listen."

"As do I, my friend...as do I." A tiny smile formed between their fangs. "I hope Lamb's wool isn't covered in earthly vermin anymore."

"It's clean as a whistle." You reassured, smiling back at them, before you two headed towards the temple.

Perhaps you'll stay here in the cult for the rest of the day. Just to spend a little more time with Shamura.

You enjoyed the company of a fellow arachnid.

#clanask #anonymous #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #follower shamura #follower shamura x reader #shamura x reader #platonic #female reader

[nijjhar]

The noble sons of the Noble Abraham would not spit at the stranger but t... The noble sons of the Noble Abraham would not spit at the stranger but the "Saltless" Tares would. Video link https://youtu.be/7HNMGI91Pnk Predictions based upon the Chosen People of Yahweh. Matt 13v24-30 is getting fulfilled. Tares would be burnt. https://youtu.be/xCP4_8JQ2ws PREDICTION BASED UPON THE "CHOSEN PEOPLE" OF THE DEMIURGE YAHWEH, BRAHMA, KHUDA, ETC. By Chaudhry Rajinder Nijjhar of the Jatt tribe M.Sc., Retired Senior Lecturer in Metallurgy, KNUST, Kumasi, Ghana, West Africa. We are very lucky to have a demonstration nation of Priests, the moral teachers, through whom we learn all the moral laws. Abram was of the Semitic race and was loved by both the black Negros and the white Aryans people and he, a Nobel Man, was picked up from the Iraq area, the cradle of humanity to settle in the Middle East as Adam, Sarah as Eve and Yahweh gave them the "Promised Land" as the Garden of Eden. So far, the generations of Abraham remained faithful to Abraham and Yahweh, the sons of Man called "Salt of the earth", they enjoyed the best fruit of the earth whilst when they had become liars and murderers, John 8v44, then the same land became barren and the unfaithful "Saltless" people were kicked out of the Promised Land called exodus remembered as "Sukkot" in which they had to leave for a foreign land (Egypt, the land of the faithful Elder son of Abraham, Ishmael) as "slaves". Jesus told this story in the Parable of the Prodigal son Isaac and how they suffered under the cruel Pheroh and Moses, the First Prophet liberated them as the repentant faithful sons of Abraham in which case, there was no more "rift" among the brethren as Moses had made them faithful to Abraham, Father bof the Faithful sons", creating "Eros, the tribal love" among them called the snakes (rifts) were lifted up in the wilderness. But this trait of the Jewish patriarchs did not vanish but became stronger at the times of Christ Jesus depicted in the "Crucification of the Most Righteous Person Jesus" by these thorough "Saltless" people on earth called the "Tares", trouble makers and their fate is foretold by Christ Jesus in the Parable of the Farmer, Yahweh, Matt 13v24-30 when the End of this Dark Age called "Kalyug" comes, I will bundle up the Tares in Israel and burn them yjrough the Atomic War expected on 14/11/2023 wjen Israel is 75 plus six months of intensive war in the name of Yahweh whilst in the Seventh Month, the Middle Candle of Elohim, Allah, Parbrahm, etc. represented by all merciful Christ Jesus, the ATOMIC WAR in which the faithful tribal sons, Wheat Plants, that are found in Africa and the Brazillian jungles will survive. The Cycle of the Four Ages is represented by Swastika. Much more in my Youtube Videos; channel One God One Faith. All this you learn through "intuition" taught not by the humans but by God within you if you are not greedy but contented with your lot. The "Blood Money" as depicted by the Temple High Priest and his stooges especially the American Jews controlling Mammon and Media belongs to the sons of most High Satan Al-Djmar Al-Aksa who will vanish from the planet earth leaving the 144000 tribal people to enjoy the fruits of the earth. Finally, let us Glorify our Supernatural Father of our supernatural "soul" Elohim, Allah, ParBrahm, etc. by Eating the flesh of Jesus and His Second coming "Christ = Satguru Nanak", "His Word" Preached by them by lending our ears, Mouth, and take it to our heart, the Stomach and digest it by the teeth of "Logical reasoning" to Brew "Logo" and Preach it from the Rooftops called Drinking the Blood of Christ within our own heart called the "Innerman" and not the inner woman, the Disciples of Pope, Rabbis, hireling Dog-Collared Priests working for Mammon and not God that deliver the sugar-coated sermons of falsehoods far sweeter than honey that creates sectarian riots such as Catholics and Protestants. Jesus established the Church of God, One Fold, the Fellowship of the Royal Priests, headed by One Shepherd, the unbiased like the little children Christ Jesus and His Second Coming Christ = Satguru Nanak. A typical example of the Church of Satan is the Church of England headed by King Charles whose soldiers are not like the serving ones of the Salvation Army but the killers and looters. Brethren, wake up from your SLUMBER. Greatest Blasphemers and Killers Blair and Bush:- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9qHdTpTXHvE&list=PL0C8AFaJhsWz7HtQEhV91eAKugUw73PW1 Blair and Bush’s blasphemies against Holy Spirit   https://youtu.be/0WBYOmpDuCs Shoe throwing at Bush by the Soldier of God Elohim, Allah, Parbrahm, etc., a HERO. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bush_shoeing_incident#:~:text=%22Arab%20moment%E2%80%9D.-,Event,Bush. This is America - Israel in Disguise:- Grim American Jewish Reaper waving sickle to kill more in Venezuela as they did in Iraq, Libya, Syria, Ukraine, etc. www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/GrimReaper.htm   Beware of these robed people. Trinity:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/trinity.pdf

#youtube

[madewithonerib]

Postmodernism P:1,2,3,4,5 | Timothy J. Keller | [Jonah 2:9; 3:9]

Was given top of: the Gospel in a postmodern world but wasn't really told what that meant; & in postmodern way I decided to interpret it the way I wanted.

So I want to talk to you about: 1.] How do we evangelize in a postmodern world? 2.] How do we communicate and get across the      Gospel in a postmodern world?

What I'm about to give you is more of a more of a lecture than a sermon because I would like to be as practical as I can be. And by way of introduction, I'd like to say first of all: This is a crisis right now, postmodern world presents a crisis to us with regard to evangelism.

I'd like to give you a 6 point approach [six principles] on: how to go about doing evangelism in postmodern world

1.] Crisis in 1959

First of all there's a crisis: In 1959 Dr. David Martyn Lloyd-Jones who from now on I'm going to be calling the doctor because that's what all of his friends called him. He was an MD physician before going into the ministry, a great Welsh British Preacher in London.

And in 1959 he did a series of lectures on revival & the very first lecture was based on Mark 9 — which is after the Transfiguration JESUS is coming off the mountain and HE sees HIS Disciples trying to exorcise a demon from a young boy unsuccessfully.

JESUS takes the matter in hand & casts the demon out & afterwards in v.28-29 they come to HIM, and they ask:

      Why couldn't we do it? Why couldn't we cast       it out? & JESUS said this kind only comes out       with fasting & prayer

And the doctor said:

      What JESUS was saying to them is that the       demon is in too deep for your ordinary       way of operation.

The way in which you ordinarily operate won't work with this kind; then MLJ said he understood that the boy to be an allegory.

  [a] The Disciples are like the Church &   [b] The boy is like the contemporary world

Here's what he said:

      In this boy I see the contemporary world & in the       Disciples I see the Church of GOD. I see a very       great difference between today & 200 years ago       or indeed even 100 years ago.

The difference in these earlier times was that wo/men were in a state of apathy — they were more or less asleep. There was no general denial of Christian truth, it was just that people did not trouble to practice it.

................................................................................................     They more or less assumed it & what Evangelical     Ministry had to do, in those times, was simply to     rouse/disturb them out of their lethargy. ................................................................................................

       •   You needed a campaign to do that,        •   You needed a program.

And that's what was done, but the question is: Whether that is still the position? What is this kind? The Spirit of this age [zeitgeist]?

Is is like the Spirit of past ages is it the same it is not let me break from the quote for a second if when I came to New York City I & I was trying to figure out how to preach in a place like that I listen to the doctors evening sermons that all through the 50s & into the 60s he would preach evening Messages they were expository but they were evangelistic they were they were aimed at the person who didn't believe in London & I listened to scores of them maybe hundreds of them & if you ever listened to the doctor you knew that one thing he was always pounding on was that this world is like the old world it's always been filled with sinners it needs grace there's no difference there's no difference for him to say this is really something he says it's the SPIRIT of this age like the SPIRIT of past ages is it the same it is not the problem is not apathy it's more profound the whole notion of the spiritual has gone the whole notion of what is right & true is gone the problem facing us is all together deeper & more desperate than what was faced by the Christian Church for many a long century now what what HE's saying is & he said this long before Leslie Newbegin said almost the same thing I find this kind of intriguing a Leslie Newbegin & the doctor are saying that the Western world is now a Mission field & it's a it's a Mission field in a way unlike any other Mission field we've ever faced because it's an ex Christian Mission field & it's a it's the first time the Church has had to evangelize on a large scale a culture Western culture that used to be Christian & therefore in a sense is inoculated now inoculation you know what inoculation is it's giving someone a little bit of the disease so so they can't get the real thing & the inoculation of Western culture is our memory & it's a distorted memory but it's a memory of Christianity & so the average person at least in New York City says oh yeah Christianity I remember that's back when black said to be on the back of the bus & when women could be beaten up by their husbands without consequence yes we remember when Christianity was in charge & we've been there we've done that old hat that's inoculation & the doctor is saying something has happened so that what won't work anymore is a campaign a program a Gospel presentation & when he said things are different than they have been in centuries he was also right there's a great book great read by Richard Fletcher called the barbarian conversion & it is a it's a book about the Christianization of Europe from 500 AD to about 1500 ad for about a thousand years most of the countryside of Europe was pagan & each this book goes into how each nation was Christianized by the monks essentially & by Missionaries & during that time evangelism of course was a a long & radical process the people didn't have the basic furniture in their mind of what Christianity was about they didn't have a Christian understanding of truth they didn't have a Christian understanding of of GOD of a transcendent personal GOD a Christian understanding of history the Ten Commandments nothing they didn't have a Christian conscience & and therefore evangelism was a long & drawn-out & radical process we'll talk about that in a second actually but then around 1500 things changed & almost the entirety you could say of Europe all the cultures were based on Christianity & when people were born & raised & educated they were educated into a Christian way of thinking about things nobody really doubted the Bible hardly everybody believed in an afterlife their understanding of GOD their understanding of sin was essentially a Christian one & the doctor was right because after 1500 AD in the West all evangelism really was was an additional program people knew something about Christianity but it wasn't personal they believed in sin but they had to be shown that they were sinners they believed in JESUS but they had to be shown that you needed a personal SAVIOUR you needed a program you needed a campaign you needed a a week of preaching & music & you had to get people in & looking between the eyes & say you need to do what you know they had Christian conferences they had Christian intellectuals they didn't have a Christian heart & they weren't converted & therefore that's right but the doctor said something has changed & the demon is in far deeper there are no magic bullets anymore you can't just do a program you can't just do a simple Gospel presentation you can sir to sit down with people & say GOD man CHRIST faith it can't be done they don't get it the demons into deep & here we are the Church having completely lost Lisa in the West it's Missionary habit is Missionary mindset you know five or six hundred years ago & yet we need it because we no longer can deal with it the demons in 2d now is a doctor right that's a pretty that's a remarkable thing guys like Dr.

Lloyd Jones were way ahead of their time HE's talking about this in 1959 & it would be excusable for you to think that HE's exaggerating you might say well maybe things like that happened in Britain but look at us look at all these people here this is a very big auditorium we're filled with Christians aren't they're mega Church is growing everywhere isn't isn't isn't it just well known that evangelicalism in America is growing by leaps & bounds & it's becoming a force so surely Dr. Lloyd-Jones was exaggerating no I don't think so he was a bit ahead of HIS time & you have to remember a couple things first of all he was in London in 1959 & in general this new situation this deeper demon this new situation in which Christian background is gone & that no longer will ordinary evangelism work it happened in cities before it happened in the rest of the country it happened in Europe before it happened in North America it happened the Northeast & on the west coast before it happened in the mid in the Midwest & the south & so on & that means to this very day in parts especially of America there are pockets of what Flannery O'Connor would call & it's a great term CHRIST haunted people there's still our sections of our world in which you couldn't say there's Christian Isis they used to be & yet there's still are lots & lots of people with basically who are CHRIST's haunted they have a they have a cultural memory that's fairly long & they they still are traditional they read The Wall Street Journal's opinion pages & they like them okay & and they're traditional in their values & they're kind of conservative people & there are plenty of places in this country where you still can grow a really big Church with the old kind of evangelism which is you have good preaching & you've got great music & you have great ministries to families & you get a crowd & in the crowd are scattered people who are traditional & they're thinking & they're not you know they basically have the furniture & they need to be roused that's what Dr.

Wigand said they need to be awakened you need to say you you you're a sinner but you'd haven't seen it's personal & you need & you believe maybe in JESUS but is going to be your SAVIOUR & they get converted & it's easy so there's plenty of places where what Dr.

Lloyd Jones says you know was was going away still true but they're shrinking & I think it's fair to read this Michael Wolfe at New York magazine a couple years ago wrote this he says that there's a fundamental schism in American cultural society actually the fundamental schism in American cultural society is people who say sysm & people who say schism there's two kinds of people & I'm not sure which you are but if you're on the other side of the fence I hope you understand what I mean Michael will said there's a fundamental schism in American cultural political & economic life there's the quicker growing economically vibrant morally relativist urban oriented culturally adventuresome sexually polymorphous & ethnically diverse nation & there's the small town nuclear family religiously oriented white dominated other America with HIS diminishing cultural & economic force indeed two nations you know you can you can there's obviously an ideology behind that way of framing it on the other hand I think HE's right that the one side is losing cultural force it's losing territory it's the CHRIST's haunted place it's the place where the old approach to evangelism used to work it still works to a certain degree now what do I mean by that & I gotta finish this introduction I'm old enough that I can see that so many of the magic bullets the evangels & magic bullets that used to work even when I was a younger man younger Minister are gone they've died on the vine in the middle of the 20th century a personal hero of mine no disrespect Billy Graham honed crusade evangelism which I think in a sense really developed under Wesley & Whitfield in the Great Awakening & and honed that & brought that method of evangelism to its to its highest efficiency & effectiveness & yet of course nobody thinks that's the future for doing evangelism in the West but by the middle end of the later in the 20th century the way all the Churches were going was personal evangelism training so you had evangelism explosion you had lay Institute for evangelism using the four spiritual laws you had the navigators & you had programs in which people a certain percentage of the people in your Church were trained on how to share their faith & then they went out there they went onto the beaches they went door-to-door they they follow up the visitors to your services & so forth & they shared their faith I had a Church in a small town of Virginia in the 70s we used evangelism explosion religiously if it's the right way to put it we saw lots & lots of fruit I happen to know that town hasn't changed much at least on the surface it hasn't grown that much it looks like the people are the same that doesn't it there's almost no fruit from that kind of program anymore almost no fruit at all in that town in Virginia the demons into deep what happened the doctor was right & that now & then by the time you get to the 90s the evangelism magic bullet was the seeker service & it's way too early to say that's over you know it's very easy to heap scorn on something that's still actually going relatively strong & yet I think it's fair to say that the critics of it are right in pointing out that 20-somethings are turning away from the traditional secret service isn't it amazing we have to call it the traditional seeker service but also many people rightly so say it still assumes a kind of white bread middle-class bourgeois Christianized CHRIST's haunted sort of culture in order to function I don't think anybody's looking to the Secret Service to turn the tide perhaps the only magic bullet anybody's looking to right now is the Alpha program & I would say that if you put content aside for a second the Alpha format is definitely a huge improvement & right for our time because there's a process involved instead of just a quick presentation & it's more communal nevertheless the doctor is right I've seen this a million times with Churches that just sort of try to take the Alpha program or some other magic bullet they they raise the money they train the people they roll out the program they they're just trying to graft onto the side of their existing ministry & evangelism hoping that somehow that's going to help them win more people & it won't work anymore the demons into deep anymore there's going to have to be a complete transformation of our personality our theology & our community by the Gospel the Gospel has to recapture us & we have to recapture the Gospel or evangelism will not work anymore we won't be able to do any kind of evangelism anymore we're the demons into deep in fact I don't know if you were listening closely a knife & I probably read too quickly the doctor was honestly speaking of a modern rather than a postmodern society he says he says is the SPIRIT of this age like the SPIRIT of past ages no he says the problem is not apathy it's more profound the whole notion of the spiritual has gone now that you wouldn't say that anymore would you he was talking about a much more rationalistic modern situation in which science & reason was still seen as the as the savior of humankind & of course everybody's spiritual now but if anything are our traditional evangelism is even less effective because in a postmodern situation you've got three problems you've got the truth problem all truth claims are perceived as constraints & power plays all truth claims are seen as exclusive secondly you got the guilt problem under Freud who was the quintessential modern thinker under Freud & psychoanalysis everybody was filled with neurotic guilt but but most of the Gospel presentations evangelism explosion almost all the traditional Gospel presentations assume a consciousness of guilt assume that the listener knows that they ought to be good it's somehow they know that they really ought to be good decent people & that that's not their the postmodern world has a truth problem the post my world has a guilt problem in the postmodern world has a meaning problem & by that I mean that they don't believe texts or words can really get meaning across they believe in the indeterminacy of text they say here's here's a biblical text who's to say what it means who's to say whose interpretation is the right one meanings are unstable now how do you preach the Gospel that way so you have a truth problem you have a guilt problem you have a meaning problem & they didn't even have those when the doctor was saying what he said in 1959 what are we gonna do how are we going to respond that was my introduction notice how long our introductions are that's what happens when they say oh you got about an hour at home really well spent a lot of time waggling on the tea before you even take your first drive so how do we do evangelism in a postmodern society I would like to give you a 6 point I can't say program can I six points to an approach & where the doctor looks at mark nine as a kind of picture the Disciples trying to cast the demon out they he looks at mark nine is a kind of picture of trying to do evangelism in a modern world I think Jonah is my best representation of the Church trying to do evangelism in a postmodern world so I'd like to root all six of the things I like to say about how we do evangelism now in the narrative of HIS life so let's go number one I'll give you the first three because they sound alike we have to do Gospel theologizing Gospel realizing Gospel urbanizing Gospel theologizing Gospel realizing Gospel urbanizing I don't know how you put that into sign language either but anyway give it a shot I get do you skyscrapers I don't know okay what I mean by Gospel theologizing the first thing I like Jonah CH 1:1 the word of the LORD came to Jonah saying go to Nineveh & preach the word of the LORD came to Jonah is saying go to Nineveh & preach for a long time a frightening Lee long time I understood the Gospel as being the elementary basics you know the Gerber's of the you know of the Bible the just the basic elementary stuff that people needed to know in order to become a Christian the basic minimum & theology was the advanced stuff so the Gospel was the elementary ideas of the Bible & the & the theology was advanced stuff you know deeper biblical principles deeper biblical themes how wrong I was I would like to say that especially in a postmodern society that we should have been doing it anyway all theology must be nothing less than an exposition of the Gospel all theology any theology has to be based on & has to be basically an exposition of the Gospel it can't be Gospel than theology a good example of this Mark Thompson has just written a book that Don Carson had it edited it's in that great series called biblical studies & new studies & difficult theology a terrific series by the way & I guess it's the last one of the latest one Mark Thompson writes a book called a clear & present word & it's about the clarity of Scripture in a postmodern situation where no one believes that anyone can interpret text that the meaning of words is unstable that the meaning of text is indeterminate & Mark Thompson spends the first CH explaining why in a postmodern situation people aren't going to listen to you say the Bible says because I said so how could anyone look at something like the Bible as diverse as it is as ancient as it is & really how dare you say this is the biblical view of this this is the biblical view of that impossible human words are are very very weak vehicles for getting across meaning nobody's really sure what the author meant & so forth so he got he does a CH on that but then what I love is that he bases a view of human language a very theologically rich idea he comes up with a theology of human language but it's Gospel based in fact it sounds very much like Jonathan Edwards sort of Gospel & here's how it goes what's the Gospel according to Jonathan Edwards it starts with GOD that starts with a triune GOD & within GOD FATHER Son & HOLY SPIRIT are internally happy because they glorify each other they don't seek their own glory they give glory to the others & they are loving each other & they're pouring the light out at each other because they are giving themselves to each other so there's an other orientation a sacrificial service orientation in the very being of GOD why does a GOD like this according to Jonathan Edwards want to create a world obviously not in order to get glory & adoration & worship because GOD already had adoration within himself he already had you know the FATHER had the son of the HOLY SPIRIT glorifying him & the son had the FATHER in the HOLY SPIRIT glorifying him we had this this sacrificial service that's the lighting he had it within himself so why would he create us obviously not to get but to spread the delight he had how do you give yourself to someone else you can't do without language the very idea of JESUS CHRIST being a word according to Mark Thompson the very idea of language is inherent in this idea of GOD giving himself of the FATHER the Son the HOLY SPIRIT giving each one giving himself to the others & therefore when JESUS speaks when GOD speaks in terms of creation & redemption it's always it's always what it's it's basically Gospel human language is a vehicle for our salvation human language is a vehicle for our being brought into fellowship with GOD & so at one point mark Thompson I know there's a bit of an abstract but it's not an abstract theological point mark Thompson says this he says the goal of GOD speaking ought never to be separated from the center of Christian theology Namely the salvation of sinners the word of the LORD came to Jonah & said go preach see he says the center is not of Christian theology is not divine self-identification but divine saving action so human language is not best seen as an int as an insufficient human creation but as an imperfectly utilized gift from GOD & the whole purpose of human language is Gospel why do I bring something like that up is that kind of abstract especially for those of you who are theologically trained you need to see in a postmodern society where everyone is against abstract rationalistic speculation they will not let us get away with theology that isn't basically all theology has to be an exposition of the Gospel every aspect every department every low sigh every part of theology has got to be basically an exposition of the Gospel that's what I mean by Gospel theologizing it's but not only that do we have to you use the he might say are the Gospel to make our theology Gospel Center we also have to work on our Gospel presentations we don't have to just bring the Gospel to bear on theology we have to bring theology to bear on the Gospel & I'll probably get somebody unhappy when I say this I haven't seen a Gospel presentation a relatively short but comprehensive Gospel presentation recently that I think actually really really addresses postmodern people the older Gospel presentations of the evangelism explosion & of the of the four spiritual laws were great on systematic theology GOD sin CHRIST faith & they got across the idea of grace versus works but there was no story arc creation fall Redemption restoration it wasn't there they had systematic theology but it didn't have biblical theology what we call it read across the grain of Scripture & did a good job of summarizing this is GOD this is what the Bible says about sin this is what the Bible says about CHRIST this is what the Bible says about faith but the but the basic narrative arc of creation fall Redemption restoration it was not part of those Gospel presentations & as a result critics rightly say that the older Gospel presentations that we so many of us grew up on were very individualistic they helped you get your relationship right with GOD but they were in a sense almost consumeristic & the idea the Kingdom of GOD was never part of those Gospel presentations so the lordship of CHRIST over all of my life the lordship of CHRIST over all of life isn't it doesn't it's not part of the Gospel presentations it doesn't follow on from them now if you go to the emerging Church if you go to post liberal Church all the emphasis when they talk about Gospel all the emphasis is on the Kingdom all of it it's all on creation fall Redemption restoration & all the emphasis therefore is on the fact that we that we had a world that we wanted it's all done corporately instead of individualistic we have the world we wanted & we've lost the world we wanted & now JESUS CHRIST has created a people & HE's brought the Kingdom & now you need to be part of GOD Kingdom program which is going to heal the world of injustice & and & what you have there is you've got the emphasis on the corporate you've got the emphasis on the Kingdom but you do almost always in these these newer versions of the Gospel lose the emphasis on grace versus works & on substitutionary atonement & on the & on the turning it with the way in which CHRIST absorbed the wrath of GOD & you don't see when I hear these conversations when I hear these Gospel presentations I don't I don't want to walk out of the presentation saying my chains fell off my heart was free I rose went forth & followed thee it's much more of it let's get part of the Kingdom program let's become part of the people let's become part of the community that's living for other people & it's actually in the end a kind of liberal legalism now I'm looking for I'm waiting for you say why don't you do it if you're so smart well it's going to take all of our best theological thinking now not build bright not Billy Graham but all our best theological thinking to develop user-friendly Gospel presentations that merge both systematic theology & biblical theology in such ways that people can grasp rather quickly & rather easily I'm not backing away from what I said about the fact you need a process now in order to evangelize people that you can't get it across in a simple presentation but I want you to know we have to do theology if we're going to get the Gospel across there can't be little programs there can't be just little I'm going to train you on how to have a five-step way of sharing the Gospel with somebody & you can get out there & visit & see people on the beach & win them to CHRIST it won't work Gospel theologizing sorry took a little time number 2 Gospel realizing Gospel realizing at the end of Jonah CH 2 when Joan is in the bottom of ocean in the belly of the fish he praised this repentance prayer to GOD & at one point he says at the very end he says salvation is of the LORD Edmond clowny has always said that Jonah CH 2:9 salvation is of the LORD is the central verse of the Bible the whole Bible summed up there salvation is of the LORD .

grace so & he & here's what I'm ever ed would always say Edward would always when he quoted Jonah 2:9 he would say salvation is of the LORD it's off LORD now why would he always repeat it why is the Jonah at the bottom of the excuse me at the bottom of ocean in the belly of the fish why is Jonah Prophet saying salvation is of the LORD as if this is a new idea for him didn't he already know that & the answer is he did & he didn't he did & he didn't & what Ed Kalani was trying to get across is that if you think you really really understand the Gospel you don't if you really think that you have begun to understand the Gospel used you do Gospel theologizing isn't anywhere near enough if we're going to change the world with it we there has to be a lifelong process of more & more deeply realizing the wonder of the Gospel you know you've probably heard me say this before if you've heard me say anything before religion is I obey therefore I'm accepted the Gospel is I'm accepted through what JESUS CHRIST has done for me therefore I obey now religion gives you control that's why it's so popular I remember one woman years ago & I was trying to evangelize her said this is scary this idea that everyone saved by sheer grace this is scary I said Wiese is so scary she says well if I was saved by my works I'd had some control what do you mean I asked she said if I was saved by my works then I'm like a tax payer I've paid my dues & there's a limit to what GOD could ask of me I have rights see & I've worked very hard & she he can't just ask anything of me but if I'm saved by sheer grace she said there's no limit to what he could ask of me you know that's scary place at the end of the book you know the movie the Bible the movie where they depicting I guess it's George C Scott playing Abraham & I don't like almost any other part of the movie but at the very end was very moving is watching Abraham about to sacrifice Isaac & when Isaac little boy Isaac is sitting on is you know laying there getting ready to be sacrificed & HE's bound up & he realizes what HIS FATHER's doing a little extra biblical Hollywood izing of it but it still moves me Isaac looks up at him & realizes what's going on & says FATHER is there nothing he cannot ask of thee & Georgie Scott says nothing & this woman understood that if I was saved by my works I still have some control but if I'm saved by grace there is nothing he cannot ask of me this is the reason why when you receive a Gospel when you ace your justification by faith alone exam when you say oh I understand I'm saved by grace not by works & I asked JESUS into my heart & I ask GOD to accept me because of what he has done not what I have done I want my relationship with GOD to be based not on my past but JESUS past not on my record but JESUS record I get it I get it no you don't I'll baptize you you're Christian but you haven't even begun to get it Chris listen ministers why are you really ministering I don't know what percentage it is he said I was out of gratitude for what JESUS has done for me why do you burn out why are you so manic about how things go why when the attendance is up are you up why is the attendance down you down because you're your very self your justification is your ministry I don't know to what degree it is but to some degree it is you know that you know the lay people next to you here at the conference are saying are you really that bad yes you know being a presbyterian being a presbyterian I you know it's very hard for GOD to speak to me this is us & so you know I'm praying & I get these little impressions & things I can't be GOD I'm a presbyterian I don't care but one day I was reading Romans 1:16 & I was reading it in a translation that said he who through faith is righteous shall live & I suddenly got HIS voice that said yes & he who through preaching is righteous shall die every Sunday & you know I probably was GOD because I know my own soul is not capable of that kind of insight & I I know that to a degree to a great degree I don't believe the Gospel

#evangelism #the great commission #Spread the Gospel #the Gospel #Postmodernism #Timothy J. Keller #Jonah #Jacob #Eve #Genesis 32

[mothereliza]

Jesus's Sermon on the Law

Preached on Feb. 12, 2023

Jesus said - "You have heard that it was said… but I say to you…" Deuteronomy 30:15-20; Matthew 5:21-37

Our lectionary today has a stern message for us. Let's face it. When the word of God is preached, as Jesus did, it is easy to think it is for someone else and not for you.

Jesus's sermons are known to do that. This gospel is not a biblical lecture designed merely to inform the hearers of some exciting facts Jesus discovered. But, it can make us uncomfortable as it did the people he preached to because Jesus speaks against things that we all do. He condemns anger and resentment. He forbids quarreling, uncontrolled sexual desires, and disruption of marriages; he cracks down on disregard for sisters and brothers and speaks against the games we play with truth-telling that we try to pretty up. Jesus wants our 'yes' to be sincere, and our 'no' said in total honesty.

As part of a series of teachings, this sermon is by far Jesus' most extended explanation of what it looks like to live as His follower. Some of his hearers think he is intensifying the Law. If he is, it's a good thing. It means he is not contradicting the Law. His teaching communicates a message more profound than what the Law laid out. He takes the Commandment about a murder to another notch and teaches that it's not just murder that's bad. Everything and anything that can demean someone can result in the loss of human life.

"…….if you are angry with a brother or sister; if you insult a brother or sister; if you say, 'You fool,' you will be liable to the hell of fire."

That sounds pretty harsh, doesn't it? It means that no one can escape the hellfire because we all have been guilty at one time or the other as charged. And if you listen with a spiritual ear, you will notice that Jesus's main point is that resentment can result in hate, and IF NOT REVERTED IMMEDIATELY, HATRED CAN BECOME POTENT – WHICH MAY RESULT IN MURDER.

A story that comes to mind is the adultery story of David and Bathsheba, which started with the eyes, heart, and idle mind. The mastermind then is lust and ended with the murder of Bathsheba's husband, Uriah. If you understand how this works, then you must understand why Jesus tells us to get rid of the situations that can result in temptations – and plucking out our eyes and cutting off our hands, etc., is the best metaphor that Jesus can give.

And, by saying repeatedly, "You have heard it said……. but I say………..Jesus is on a mission to let something stick – to bring love and grace to everyone when you come right down to it.  The irony is, Jesus was condemned to death as a breaker of the Law – the same Law he came to defend.

Spiritually and theologically, the necessary response to sin, large and small, is REPENTANCE. There is a choice. Moses lays it out before the people of Israel – CHOOSE LIFE (or God's ways and decrees), SO YOU MAY LIVE. Jesus is offering the same thing. He says, "COME TO TERMS WITH YOUR ACCUSER, SO YOU DON'T FACE THE JUDGE."

What this means in the context of Jesus's teaching is ‘You cannot love God and come to HIM with a heavy-loaded heart of disobedience and anger weighing you down – avoid it at all costs.’ If you want to honor HIM with your substance, do the right thing -  reconcile with whom you disagree.' (Matthew 5:24).

 The process is challenging and is usually surprising and humbling, but it can be ‘a powder keg’ if you carry it around, and it can explode. On the other hand, turning around can be exciting, revealing, and potentially an excellent tool for improving your relationship with God.

Jesus wants your heart more than anything else.

[representshinjuku]

Division Rap Battle Final Round

[Jiro] 

Yeah, we’ll settle this with a single blow

Yokohama’s goin’ home pathetically

I’ll make you eat your words with this shot

‘Cuz my rhyme’s always a knockout

[Jyuto] 

The strength of our rhymes is incomparable

And for that matter, so is our skill

Vibrant as a field of blooming flowers

If weakness is a crime, you’re under arrest

[Saburo]

Our future is rose-colored,

There’s no other alternative to victory

I’m about to solve this equation

We’re the newest model, you’re stone age machines

[Rio] 

No matter your size, when you burn so weakly

We’ll crush you with no hesitation

Like it’s human vs Terminator

Unarmed children vs armored tanks

[Ichiro]

Our humanity makes us the best three brothers

There’s nothing cool about machines

Comin’ through loud and clear from this microphone

Nobody else hits quite like this

Your road ends here, Yokohama

I won’t let you take even a single step

[Jiro & Saburo]

Yeah, raise the hand sign

[Ichiro] We’re Buster Bros [Buster Bros!!!] ‘Bukuro’s three brothers

[Samatoki]

Let’s settle this, you piece of shit

Don’t go acting cool, Ichiro, you bastard

Yokohama’s always standin’ on top

So you low-class bastards better kneel at my feet

A bowed head gets a hole blown in it

An loud mouth gets a nail stuck through it

[Jyuto & Rio] 

We’ll show you our incomparable resolve

[Mad Trigger Crew]

Mad Trigger Crew, better be prepared

[Gentaro]

An earth-shatteringly splendid showcase--

Though gazing upon you brings me no joy

Breezing through dilemmas others could barely scrape by--

We are Shibuya, tonight’s conductors

[Hifumi] 

Haha! That’s barely even a start

This is Shinjuku, partying all night

I’ll have you understand our allure

Comes from all the battlefields we’ve been through

[Dice]

Ha! Who cares about the battlefield,

Blowin’ away my worries ‘cuz I’m the real thing

I’m sick and tired of your lecturing

So get your pain in the ass sermons outta here old man

[Doppo]

A pain in the ass, disgusting, 

Quit your false accusations already, damn it!

This worthless piece of trash will definitely

Seize victory and cross the boundary line

[Ramuda]

Shinjuku’s three are done for,

Under Shibuya’s heat you’ll burst like popcorn

We’ll send you to Nirvana in pieces without breaking a sweat

We’ll win this battle easy

I’m so excited to see

How’ll you cry when you lose

[Gentaro & Dice]

Fling Posse, but momentary friends

[Ramuda]

Winning this battle, so let’s go all night

[Jakurai] 

There might not be a correct answer

But I want to believe there’s a meaning to the search

I’ll place my heart, body, mind on the line

In order to make you feel the weight of responsibility

I have no intentions of showing mercy

No matter how many years pass, I feel no urge to forgive you

[Hifumi & Doppo]

We’ll show you our victory dance

[Matenrou]

Aiming for the throne, Shinjuku Matenrou

[Samatoki] 

Thanks for the treat, just what I needed

All your attacks become my strength

Making fireworks burst with my rhyme and flow

You can prattle on but it’ll never reach my ears

All’ve you are nothing but my servants

Shut your damn haughty mouth you hypocrite

You’re surrounded by an aura of defeat

Just accept your death, you piece of shit

[Ramuda]

Yo, you only ever say such boring things

I’m sooo disappointed in old man Jakurai

You don’t excite me even a little

So now I gotta punish a boring old dinosaur

When my rap gets serious

It lets off some dazzling lights

The power of illusions is way OP

So let’s us friends have some friendly fire

[Jakurai] 

You won’t be able to defeat me at this level

You of all people should know that

You might hurt me once for every star in the sky

But I hold the power of healing within my hands

In order to heal this twisted world

I am only preaching the truth to you

There is worth in facing the future--

Believing in that, I stand up once more

[Dice]

The truth’s always within our grasp

Kicking Shinjuku down one by one

[Gentaro]

Lies are but a way to stun the opponent

You precarious battle is but toy fireworks to me

[Doppo]

The slow and steady way’s the best--

If you don’t understand I’ll prove it to you

[Hifumi] 

Hard work is invisible but it draws out our future

You dull blades could never hope to scratch us

[Rio]

Displaying this full-power, stable flow

Delivering a blow straight to your heart

[Jyuto] 

If you grovel I’ll take you lost children home

But if you resist I’ll put you under arrest

[Saburo]

We who use our heads without bowing down

Are on a different level, I’ll show you old guys how

[Jiro] 

We’ll show you our rhyme and flow’s final form

We’re Buster Bros!!! always fresh

[Ichiro]

I’ll show you verse and rhyme from a different dimension

Making the imitations turn tail and run

I don’t need to hear your damn advice anymore

I don’t do this often so better look close

I’ll bet everything on this one shot

This iron-clad blow’s aimed straight at you

Karma’s coming with these rhymes

In a super critical hit

[Ramuda]

No matter how much I think about it I really hate you

So won’t you pretty please just disappear?

I don’t care what else you do, but right now

That long hair of yours is super gross

If I get to see Jakurai cry 

That’s great, so fun, nothing could be better

I’ll show you I can get my wish today

As the hands of the clock finally move forward

[Jakurai] 

I doubt your sanity; I’m attempting in earnest

To put you into cardiac arrest

Your childish behavior, speech, your entirety--

I cannot possibly allow it

So long as you remain undefeated 

This weight in my chest will never lift

The correct answer still eludes me

But at the very least I will heal this world

[Samatoki] 

I’ve seen it in my dreams, me beating you down

That day’s today--this’s the last blow

So clench your teeth and brace yourself

I’ll show you I’m a wall you’re never gettin’ over

I’ll show you how we’re settling the score

If I don’t none of this’ll ever change

I’m cutting the strings of fate that bind us

Save your regrets for hell, you piece of shit

[Ichiro]

The higher the wall the greater drive to get over it

I’m bounding my way up

You talk big but it’s all hot air

So ain’t it obvious I’m gonna break you down?

There’s plenty of reasons I can’t stop the fight

But here’s number one--

I’m stronger than you

And I’ll prove it to you here and now

[Ramuda]

Jakurai, I’m ending you here

[Jakurai] 

I’ve staked everything on defeating you here

[Samatoki] 

I’m settling the score with you here and now

[Ichiro]

If I don’t defeat you I can’t move forward

[Jakurai] 

I still don’t know what’s correct

[Ramuda]

Who cares about the reasons anymore?

[Samatoki] 

I just gotta take the guy standing in front of me

[Ichiro]

And win against him no matter what

[All] The battle! [Samatoki] I will never

[All] The battle! [Ichiro] Lose to you

[All]

The greater the challenge the more reason

You can’t just turn back once you take it on

[All] The battle! [Jakurai] Crossing our limits

[All] The battle! [Ramuda] I’ll show you a turnabout

[All]

The tougher the opponent the more your pride burns

Betting everything on this Hypnosis Mic

#rule the stage #track 4 #division all stars #division rap battle final round #hypstagetl #koutranslates

[vincentcheungteam]

Freely You have Received, Freely Give

Posted by Vincent Cheung on May 11, 2005

(The following is an edited email correspondence.)

Mr. Cheung,

Why do you think that it is "Christian" (if this is not how you would put it, please say so) to make your works available to the public free of charge?

I indeed consider it a Christianity duty to offer my teaching materials free of charge. Let me explain.

One reason that I have been successful at my studies is because God has granted me intellectual capabilities that can handle the subjects that I must deal with. No, I do not claim that I am a genius, but I will affirm that my mind "delivers" — it performs well, at least well enough to competently learn, process, and teach the relevant materials.

(What do we have that we have not received? A sound mind can be one of the gifts that God endows upon his ministers, given for the purpose of serving him and his people. It is sustained and developed through the means of grace, such as prayer, reading, and biblical meditation, by which the Spirit of God enhances a person’s mental capabilities. See Daniel 1:17–20, Psalm 119:97–100, Ephesians 1:17–18, and James 1:5.)

But another reason that I have been successful at my studies is because, in his providence, God has provided me with the means and the opportunities to acquire an abundance of intellectual resources. This is more relevant to our focus.

My home library includes over 300 systematic theologies (excluding works that treat specific theological topics but are not complete systems), the complete or almost complete works of Calvin, Owen, Edwards, Clark, Van Til, Schaeffer, Warfield, Spurgeon, and a number of other theologians and preachers, almost all the prominent classic and contemporary biblical commentaries, the complete works of Plato, Aristotle, and other major classic and contemporary philosophical works, the works of the early church fathers, several sets of encyclopedias, many obscure books, and many other classic and contemporary works.

All of this adds up to almost 15,000 volumes. This does not include all the materials that I have in electronic format, or theological journals, or audio lectures and sermons. Some people probably have even more than I do, but I doubt that most people’s private libraries even approach one tenth of the above.

Of course, one still has to read the books and use them well, and most people’s reading comprehension is dismal, so giving them more books will not proportionately increase their theological aptitude. Possessing a mind that can perform means that I am able to get more out of the same books than many other people, and at times to go beyond the works of other scholars to form my own improved conclusions. In other words, it is not enough to have access to information, but you must also have a capable mind to work with the information.

In any case, right now the point that I wish to emphasize is that it does make a difference to have more books, or to have greater access to scholarly writings. But this also means that, at least from this perspective, the poorer you are, the more limited you are in your theological growth. To the extent that this is due to the failure of Christian ministers and scholars to freely distribute their teaching materials, I find this very disturbing.

Moreover, pastors who have been to seminaries are taught to hide academic and technical information from their congregations in their sermons. The members are almost never exposed to all that the pastor received in seminary. As I have stated in my Preach the Word, this is the wrong approach. Even if they do not make their sermons as rich in content as seminary lectures, pastors should hold classes in their churches that offer at least the essential materials taught in seminaries. (These classes should be opened to every church member — men, women, and even children — and they should be given free of charge.) In fact, I believe that churches should provide adequate instructions to their own members so that they don’t even need to attend seminaries before taking on an office in the church. In a sense, seminaries are needed only because churches have failed in their teaching ministries.

With the above in mind, I have determined long ago that I will do my part to help by always making all of my works available for free in at least one readily accessible format. God willing, as the resources of this ministry increase, I will be publishing materials produced by other people also, so that together we can cover more topics, including those that I lack interest or ability to write about. Most of these people will probably be trained by myself, or at least heavily influenced by this ministry’s materials, so that all the materials published by this ministry will be consistent in content. In any case, no matter how gifted a person may be, if he refuses to let me distribute his materials for free, then I have no use for him. He is a disgrace to the kingdom of God, and I will tell him to GET OUT!

Jesus says, "Freely you have received, freely give" (Matthew 10:8). Now, I do not believe that a minister should never ask for money, since Paul says, "If we have sown spiritual seed among you, is it too much if we reap a material harvest from you?" (1 Corinthians 9:11; see also 1 Corinthians 9:13–14 and 1 Timothy 5:17–18). In fact, I believe that all faithful Christian ministers should be paid well, and that most Christians are free loaders who are practically robbing their ministers. They should be harshly rebuked. But this is different from saying that we should always charge money for our books and sermons without providing a free option; rather, we must arrange it so that those who are poor but are eager to learn may still advance in knowledge.

I would not consider it necessarily wrong to charge something for a sermon tape to defray the cost (although my policy has always been to give them out without charge), or even to make a profit for the ministry, so that the ministry can grow; however, I would always make a way for people to get it for free, so that the relatively poor will still have some way to access it. And if there must be a charge for the product (such as my paperback books, since their sales are handled by a book printing company), I would forgo all royalties, or find some way to minimize the cost.

In other words, I understand that Christian publishing is a business, and to survive and grow, the company must make a profit. However, if it is really Christian publishing that they are doing, then they should make some way for the poor to obtain the same materials for free, even if it has to be in a less convenient format. This is very easy to do in today’s world. For example, they could charge money for their paperback books, but offer the same materials in electronic format.

On a related note, ministers should never enforce their copyrights on their books and sermons (Philippians 1:18), unless these materials are somehow being abused by unbelievers to oppose the Christian cause. From a biblical perspective, a minister must allow people to make unlimited copies of their materials and distribute them.

This is why I will never consider signing an exclusive agreement with a publisher for my materials — that is, one in which I give up control over my own materials, that prevents me from freely offering them to people in the formats that I choose, and that prevents people from freely making unlimited copies.

This issue is also related to why I am so ambitious about eventually getting certain things published, such as materials comprehensive enough to cover the entire Christian worldview, and perhaps even homeschooling texts up to the 12th grade level — all for free in at least one format. God willing, we will get at least some of this done.

As I have mentioned to you in a previous message, one of my regrets is not having the time and the talent to write songs that I can let other people use for free in their private and public worship. Perhaps God will send someone who can do this for us in the future.

By the way, I am aware of at least two instances in which my orthodoxy has been questioned precisely because I offer my materials for free. In both instances, the reasoning was that since heretics and cults would do anything to spread their teachings, the fact that I offer my books and recordings for free should immediately cause suspicion.

What does this say about the usual practice of Christian ministries? (It also betrays the stupidity of these Christians, since this process of reasoning is fallacious, and there are more than a few other legitimate ministries and churches that also offer their materials for free.)

According to them, real Christians would not so eagerly spread their teachings, and real Christians — if they are really orthodox in their theology — would charge money for their books. If you are a real Christian, or if your teachings are sound and biblical, then you would certainly try to make a profit instead of trying to maximize distribution and to help the poor. If you don’t charge anything, then you are probably a heretic. Charging money makes your work legitimate! This is how twisted things have become.

(The following an edited response taken from a separate email correspondence. The topic has to do with a pastor who stubbornly refuses to freely distribute his sermons.)

…This is a very strange situation. I have never even heard of such coveting. Am I stepping out of line by asking for a reason why he will not allow this? How should I approach this man? He is a very gifted teacher…

As you know, I insist that sermons should be available for free — we should emphasize distribution, not profit.

Keeping in mind that I still have very little information about this man and your relationship with him, I will give the following broad advice.

If you are in a position to pursue the Matthew 18 church discipline procedure with him, then you may choose to do so.

If I were the head of his ministry, and he is under my authority, or if I were one of the elders, I would certainly side against him, and if he does not repent, vote to remove him, and treat him as one would regard Balaam. I think the situation is this severe. If upon examination, I discover that he is really doing this because of covetousness, and not because of some misguided but comparatively innocent motive (he cannot be completely innocent), then I would deal very harshly with him.

Nevertheless, legally speaking, he has a right to restrict the distribution of his materials, so unless you can pursue church discipline with him, there is not much else that you can do, especially since it seems that you have already registered your disagreement with his policy by writing him a letter.

A minister must be sound in both doctrine and character, and if he is as you say he is, then it is no great loss to the church that he limits the distribution of his materials. We don’t need him — even if he is as gifted as you say, just as God could raise up children of Abraham from stones, he can raise up another like him or better. In this sense, any one of us is easily replaceable, no matter how gifted we are; therefore, let us flee pride and covetousness, but serve with gratitude and generosity, with fear and trembling.

From: https://web.archive.org/web/20060316175951/http://www.vincentcheung.com/2005/05/11/freely-you-have-received-freely-give/

#vincentcheung #copyright

[septembercfawkes]

Many of us are familiar with the "Show, don't Tell" writing rule, but few of us realize how vital it is to writing our stories' themes. In fact, one of the most common problems that come up with theme, happens because the writer tells the theme more than shows it. So, when you learn how to show your theme, you are well on your way to writing a stronger one--which means writing a stronger story. Let's briefly review the "Show, don't Tell" writing rule and go over why telling theme alone is rarely effective. Then we'll follow up with why and how to show your theme.

The Meaning of "Show, don't Tell"

The "Show, don't Tell" rule usually relates to the actual prose of a story. In short, it means to dramatize what is happening in a scene, in a way that allows the reader to experience the story, instead of just reading as a spectator. This is often done by imagery (aka, appealing to the senses). When a writer simply labels and explains what happens (tells the story), it's almost always less effective.

For example, read this telling sentence:

Emily was tired.

It simply labels Emily's state. And we don't really understand what kind of tired she is. Is she physically tired from running a marathon? Is she tired in the sense she needs sleep? Or is she tired because she's bored? We don't know. It's vague and general.

But when we show that Emily is tired, it becomes more concrete and specific.

For example, read this showing passage:

Yawning, Emily dragged her backpack on the way to her bedroom. Her eyes drooped shut with each step. She fell into her bed, and her shoes blackened the covers. She rubbed her eyes--mascara gritted against her skin--then flung her arm over her face to block out the light.

Now the audience has a specific image and experience of Emily being tired. Now they feel more tired, like Emily.

And that's more impactful.

Of course, telling isn't always bad, and there is a time and place for it. 

To learn more about the "Show, don't Tell" rule, including when to break it, check out "Breaking Writing Rules Write: 'Show, don't Tell.'"

But showing extends beyond the prose itself, and sometimes when we extend it beyond that, it can make the definitions a little more blurry. 

Luckily, when we apply it to theme, it need not get too blurry.

Telling Your Story's Theme

The theme is an argument about how we should be living our lives, and just like with prose, the theme is most effective when you show it more than tell it. Yet, perhaps the most common problem with theme happens when the writer tries to consciously superimpose one by putting in monologues, sermons, or long passages that teach preach how we should be living our lives and what the meaning of the story is.

When a writer tells their theme more than shows it, it's exactly the sort of behavior that leads professionals to share the erroneous idea that you can't write with a theme in mind. You can. But just like with any writing element, if you don't know what you are doing, you're more likely to handle it poorly. In this case, it shows up as what people call "preachiness."

Preachiness happens because the writer is telling the theme way more than showing it.

Or worse, they are only telling it and never showing it.

Or worse, they are telling a theme that actually doesn't coincide with what the story showed.

Almost always, a story's theme is determined by these elements . . . 

The Critical Pieces:

1. Your protagonist's dominating qualities, worldview, and/or lifestyle 2. Your protagonist's arc 3. The antagonistic force 4. How the conflict between the antagonist and protagonist is resolved.

The Supporting Pieces:

1. The Influence Character 2. The supporting cast 3. Secondary plotlines (conflicts)

(For more of an explanation on these and how they work, check out "How Theme is Your Story's Shadow.")

This means that if you try to pick a theme and overlay it on a story, it will ring false. It will sound fake. And it will sound like a lecture. Because the critical and supporting pieces don't prove that theme true, you'll likely succumb to simply putting in sermons and preachy passages. 

On some level, it feels like a lie. 

Because it's not what the story shows.

The theme comes out of the story, you don't slap it on top at the end. You can't put makeup on a pig and tell the audience it's a human. They can see through the makeup. And it's annoying if you go on long trying to convince them it's something it's not.

(As a side note, another way preachiness can slip in is if the author doesn't fairly consider or represent the opposing argument (the anti-theme). If a theme is an argument about life, then it needs to have someone or something arguing against it, and if you want a strong theme, that argument needs to appear fair and convincing.)

In truth, we've probably all encountered stories where the theme was told more than shown. I've seen it show up in stories where the writer tried to shoehorn a theme about "strong women" with dialogue or a monologue, when the character arc, plot, and antagonist actually had little to do with gender roles. I've seen it show up in passages about how humankind is bad because we are destroying the planet, in an arc, plot, and antagonist that had little to nothing to do with the environment. It usually comes off as very on-the-nose.

Why?

Because it doesn't come naturally out of the story itself, the author can only shoehorn it with a lecture or the like.

If you want to write about how women can be strong, you need to write a story that demonstrates that. You need to pick a character, arc, opposing forces, and secondary plots that explore gender roles and prove it to be true at the end. And to do it effectively, you need to show a convincing counterargument, (even if you don't personally agree with the counterargument).

If you don't start there, it will always feel to the audience like makeup on a pig (even if they can't pinpoint exactly what's wrong), no matter how beautiful the makeup is. If you can change the "theme" by deleting a few passages or monologues from your story, it probably isn't the true theme.

In order to change and manipulate theme, you need to do it by changing and manipulating the critical and supporting pieces.

Showing Your Story's Theme

Instead of listening to someone tell us what we should or should not be doing (which often naturally leads the human mind to search for exceptions or even inspires rebellious spirits), it's more resonating and effective to facilitate an experience that helps the audience draw their own conclusions of the truth(theme) you are arguing.

We do this by making sure the critical pieces and supporting pieces of the theme explore the theme's topic and then prove the argument true. We show the theme through the story.

We don't want to start the story sounding like a stuffy know-it-all, i.e. "Well of course women can be strong! Duh! What kind of terrible person would think otherwise?!"

In order to prove an argument true, it needs to be tested. We can't just say it's true. Again, we need to show it.

How might we do this?

For the topic of strong women or gender roles (which I feel like I see get shoehorned more than others in modern films), Mulan is a great example. (The animated version. I haven't seen the live-action one.)

There is no long sermon or lecture about how women can be just as significant in society as men. Or about how both masculine and feminine roles are important in a culture. There is no lecture, because we need no lecture.

We start out with a girl who struggles to live up to her gender role, and then runs away to pretend to be a man in an army. This is already, naturally, a story about gender. But as she faces opposition, the idea of a strong woman comes into question. Can a woman actually make it as a male soldier? It looks like the men are doing better than her (counterargument). Through the middle, the story fairly explores each side of the argument (and some arguments in between). The relationships she has with the men around her (Influence Character(s)) explore the theme topic of gender roles as well.

In the end, the film proves the argument true by showing how a woman saves all of China by defeating the antagonist. It also simultaneously proves true that both masculine and feminine gender roles are important, by having the male soldiers dress up as women (after Mulan has spent most of the film doing the reverse) to get into the palace.

Neither the Emporer, Shang, Mulan, nor Mushu needed to give a big monologue about how these things are true and correct--they didn't need to because the story "proved" (i.e. "showed") it was true, and because the audience experienced it vicariously, they feel that it is true.

Any powerful theme is shown more than told.

In Les Miserables? We are ultimately shown that mercy can do more to change hearts than justice. It's shown through Jean Valjean's qualities and worldview and his character arc. It's shown through Javert's loyalty to justice. It's shown in the relationships and secondary plotlines and supporting cast. It's shown when Javert takes his own life because--due to his loyalty to justice--he cannot live with having been shown mercy by his adversary. The story doesn't just tell us mercy is more powerful than justice. It shows us.

One more example (because they say three proves the point). The Hunger Games argues that sacrificing yourself to benefit others (which is what Katniss--despite temptations--ultimately does on multiple occasions) is better than sacrificing others for personal gain (which is what the Capitol, Games themselves, and President Snow do on multiple occasions). Is this ever said point-blank? Not obviously enough to easily pick out. Instead, it's again shown through the protagonist, antagonist, climax, relationships, supporting characters, and secondary plots.

Showing is stronger than telling. Especially when it concerns theme.

And just like the rule in relation to prose, this doesn't mean it's never okay to tell your theme. There is a time and place for everything. 

Just make sure that if you do, you are showing it much more than telling it.

Otherwise you may inspire eye rolls more than a change of heart.

#Let's Write #Writing tips #writing tips and tricks #writing help #writing reference #writing advice #fanfic #nanowrimo

[kiingocreative]

The Structure of Story is now available! Check it out on Amazon, via the link in our bio, or at https://kiingo.co/book

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In their simplest form, story elements take the structure of a bullseye. In the dead center, we have the story's theme. Surrounding the theme are characters. And surrounding the characters are actions, reactions, and plot. In this way, theme is expressed through character. Character is then expressed through action and therefore plot.

In constructing our story, we'll start at the heart of this bullseye. A great story is a battleground. And this battleground is actually deeper than that surface level of heroes versus villains or desire versus conflict. A great story is a battleground of ideas. It's an exploration of a deep question about the right way to live in the world. We can call this question of the "right" way to live in the world the "thematic question". This thematic question is the heart of our story's theme and thus of our story.

Throughout history, stories have always been at their core about exploring an idea, message, or lesson. And not all stories do this well or in an entertaining way. I'm sure you can think of a few that couldn't stop with the pretentious, heavy-handed lectures. But here's the trick: the great stories don't preach or hit you over the head with a message. They subtly plant the idea and let it fester and grow within you. They explore themes and morality through story structure, not through dialogue and sermons. When you hear these stories, you just feel changed. You re-enter the world with brand new eyes. You may not be able to explain why, but you feel as though you should live your life differently. That's the power of a great story. It's also the challenge of a great story. As a storyteller, you must learn to explore a theme and argue an answer to the thematic question without the audience explicitly knowing you're doing so.

Your Story's Thematic Argument

Your story's theme, or what we might call your "thematic argument" is your belief about the right way to live in this world. It's an idea or belief that you want your audience to take with them and embrace. It's an idea that you think will make for a moral, fulfilling, rewarding, beneficial, or valuable life. It's a recipe for how to live. What is the moral way to live in this world? What is the fulfilling way to live in this world? What is the most rewarding way to live in this world? A thematic argument is essentially a piece of advice, belief, or universal truth that you believe will help the audience live a better life.

Star Wars tells us "Put your trust in faith over technology."

The Incredibles tells us "A superhero is not defined by his cape but by how he helps others."

Ratatouille tells us "A good cook can come from anywhere." which might be stated more deeply as "Talent can come from anywhere."

Your thematic argument might be "It's better to prioritize the community over the individual" or "Duty is more important than love" or "Your attitude shapes your reality."

So what's at the heart of your story? What message do you want to send? Don't worry, you won't be explaining this message to the audience directly. But you will be using it as the heart of your story. The most important key to creating a great thematic statement is that it fascinates you. It should ignite passion inside of you. Don't stop until you find a theme that excites you.

Exploring Your Thematic Argument

Next we've got to figure out a way to explore this thematic argument in our story. How do we express this theme in a natural, entertaining way? Let's go back to our story bullseye. Theme is expressed through characters. And specifically, all possible answers to the thematic question are debated through the actions of opposing characters. Notice that this thematic debate happens through character action, and not only through character dialogue (although a nice villain monologue has its place). In this way, the characters become proxies for each possible variation of the theme.

But in order to explore all sides of the theme, we first have to state our theme as a question. In other words, we pose the thematic argument as a thematic question in order to allow for different and opposing answers.

How Star Wars Debates Theme

Let's consider how Star Wars debates its theme. The thematic argument of Star Wars is "Put your trust in faith over technology." To convert this into a thematic question, we merely pose it as a "should" question. "Should you put your trust in faith or technology?"

This question has two primary answers, of course. One answer is that we should trust faith over technology and the other is that we should trust technology over faith. Star Wars explores both of these answers by distributing them among characters. Let's see how.

The first thing to notice is that Star Wars doesn't just have the villains answer the thematic question one way and the heroes answer the other way. For instance, Obi-Wan Kenobi makes his case for the force and consequently for faith over technology in his talk with Luke. But then Darth Vader makes a similar case to the commander of the Death Star.

Now on the opposite side of the thematic argument, we've got another good guy--Han Solo--arguing that we should trust technology over faith. And then we get a similar spiel from Grand Moff Tarkin, the commander of the Death Star.

Four-Corner Opposition

So we've got what John Truby calls a four-corner opposition. We've got different characters taking different sides of the thematic question and importantly, we've got both moral and immoral characters taking both sides. In this way, Star Wars allows us to explore and debate multiple answers to the thematic question that all stand in opposition to each other.

The important insight in expressing thematic arguments through character action is that the opposition allows the audience to see the differences between the possible answers to the theme. Humans tend to only understand ideas through comparison. It's far more dramatic and impactful to debate all variations of the theme than to just argue one answer to a thematic question and state it as the truth.

So how is the outcome of the thematic debate decided? Generally, the outcome is decided through the actions of the main character. Let's take a look at the climax of Star Wars. Luke begins his trench run on the Death Star. The fundamental choice is whether he should trust his guidance computer to fire his proton torpedoes or whether he should use the force and faith. His final decision is to put his trust in faith over technology and consequently to turn off his guidance computer. He successfully destroys the death star and is rewarded for his faith. As a standalone story, A New Hope argues that we should put our trust in faith over technology.

The Thematic Question

Let's see how we can convert one of our own thematic arguments into a thematic question.

Let's say we've decided that for our story our thematic argument should be "your attitude shapes your reality." Let's convert that argument into a question. "Does your attitude shape your reality?" Now we'll want to explore all of the possible answers to that question and give those answers to different, opposing characters.

Obviously we can have a character who answers "yes". This character might be full of faith and confidence no matter what comes their way. Another answer is no, your attitude does not shape your reality. This character might be deeply cynical. But besides "yes" and "no" we might additionally answer with "Your attitude shapes your reality but only superficially." This character might be endlessly hopeless. Another answer might be "Your attitude shapes your reality on a deep level but isn't visible from the outside." This character might be superstitious. Another answer might be "sometimes" or "depends on the circumstance." This character might be incredibly rational and evidence-based.

We might distribute the "yes" answer and "no" answer among both heroes and villains so that we can explore how morality and immorality plays a role in how one defends or champions their answer to the thematic argument.

There are a nearly endless number of ways to build a story. Starting with a thematic question is only one way but it has the benefit of guiding our character creation process and informing the actions and arcs that characters might take over the course of the story. Consider what the thematic question of your story might be, and the characters that might express all of the possible answers to that thematic question.

#writingtips #creative writing #screenwriting #writers on tumblr #writers #writing #writerblr #writing advice #writing community #writing resources

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Thursday 7 April 1836

8 25

12 20

no kiss F44 ½° at 9 ¼ am fine spring soft damp morning but terrible for rock-setting - breakfast and with A- till 10 55 while she rode off to the school - washing three stockings till eleven and a half - with Marian from 11 ½ to 1 25 -went in to pay her £20 for my aunt and she (Marian) kept me talking - 5 minutes with my aunt and out at 1 ½ to 4 - Robert Mann + 3 and 7 or 8 of Freeman’s men - during the day got the 2 towery marestones near to their place, and set up the one on the Tour stone and in the afternoon set about getting the Cliff-stone down from the top of the embankment near the road to its place or a level and next to the Tour-stone marestone - A- back at 3 ½ - came in to see her at 4 and after being about ½ hour with her and meaning to go out again Mr. Duncan sent up his son with a note to me begging to know in whose name the gloves and biscuits were to be sent and with a note he (Mr. D-) had received from the vicar on which Mr. D- begged to have my instructions - told Mr. D-‘s son, I would send an answer in the evening - A- and I hurt and annoyed at the vicar’s note - took it to Marian and without giving her any clue to our own feeling asked what she thought of it - found her far more annoyed than ourselves - I said how foolish the note was, but tried to persuade Marian that no slight could be intended - long talk - the following is a copy of the note - ‘Vicarage April 7th 1836. Dear sir, I will meet the corpse on Monday at the church gates if you will let me know the hour at which to be in attendance. It would be a great accommodation to me if the corpse could be kept from arriving till ¼ or ½ past eleven as I have my monthly lecture to the young ladies from the Boarding schools at ten which I need not in that case put off. As I am likely also to have my friend with me who is to preach my Sunday school sermons on Sunday, it would be very inconvenient to me to go to Shibden hall yours very truly C. Musgrave’ wrote in answer ‘Mr. Duncan is requested to send the gloves and biscuits from the family at Shibden Hall’ and to inform Mr. Musgrave that the family is very much obliged to him, but, being anxious that the funeral procession should leave the house at the early hour fixed upon, will be perfectly satisfied for Mr. Gurney to do the duty, whom they will be glad to have breakfast at Shibden hall, or, if any agreement should make it inconvenient to Mr. Gurney to attend, they will be much obliged to Mr. Musgrave to allow Mr. Greatrix to officiate, whom they, in that case, wish to be invited to breakfast at Shibden all. Shibden Hall. Thursday 7 April 1836’ - ‘Mr. Duncan undertaker etc’ Marian much pleased with my note - gave her, at her request, a copy of it, which she means to keep along with the vicar’s note and Mr. Duncan’s - she kept me so long talking it was 6 ½ before I left her - then had Mr. Husband - he said Mr. Harper had been here this morning but would not come here at this time - would come over again - had gone back this evening (or afternoon?) - Mr. Husband came to see if the stairs were safe - if strong enough to bear the weight of the lead and other coffins and of the men - yes! thought they the stairs would carry the weight but [not?] see for the under drawing - dinner at 6 50 - told Husband to see what wanted doing at Water Lane mill asked what he thought the mill should be worth as it is that is with no accommodation but put into sufficient repair - he said £100 a year - hat said I is exactly what I value it at - dinner at 6 50 - coffee - A- asleep till 9 - I left her and was above ½ hour with Marian - then A- and I with my aunt from 9 to 9 35 - Kind letter from M- Leamington -glad my letter had reached her when it did reach her - had it been 24 hours later, she would have been off to Torquay to see her niece (Dr. Belcombe’s daughter) poorly again - ‘the great event has taken place and she is at the moment weak and poorly, I shall be absent about ten days, and should not have ordered my letters to follow me, for now I have no correspondent who either expects or gives quick returns to my letters, I expect to return here on Saturday week, perhaps you will let me find a line to say how you all are. I shall be anxious to hear about your aunt I am pretty well myself, and all around me are quite so - god bless and yours my Fred! your very sincere friend M. P. Lawton’ - A- ate sweetmeat batter pudding today at dinner - she has not tasted pudding for many months - we fancied it did not agree with her - perhaps it was too heavy for her stomach this evening - she was low and out of sorts after leaving my aunt - finish day but rain between 3 and 4 then fair a while - very dark, and snow and hail and rain from about 5 ½ for the rest of the evening F36° at 10 pm.

[staygold-ponyboycurtis]

We Had Church!

But that day... well, Soda can’t sit still long enough to enjoy a movie, much less a sermon. It wasn’t long before he and Steve and Two-Bit were throwing paper wads at each other and clowning around, and finally Steve dropped a hymn book with a bang - accidentally, of course. Everyone in the place turned around to look at us, and Johnny and I nearly crawled under the pews. And Two-Bit waved at them. I hadn’t been to church since.

A one-shot about that one time the gang went to church... Idea credit goes to @ponyboyskywalker :)

“I don’t think the big guy upstairs is gonna mind if your shirt’s a little wrinkled, Pone,” Sodapop says, brushing off my shoulder.

I roll my eyes. “That’s not the point. I’m trying to look decent.”

“You’re a Curtis,” Two-Bit hollers from the living room. “Don’t y’all think you’re movie stars or somethin’?”

“Hey, don’t go givin’ the kid a complex, now,” I hear Steve say to him. “I don’t think the world could handle another self-obsessed Curtis.”

I hear the rumbling of Darry’s voice from somewhere in the house, undoubtedly berating Steve. Soda chuckles at the argument, buttoning his shirt in the mirror.

“I can’t believe you’re draggin’ me along with you,” he says. “Are ‘ya sure I won’t burst into flames when I walk through the door?”

I scoff. Soda doesn’t give himself enough credit. Just last week, he took the entire day off of work to sit with me while I was home sick with a stomach bug. Made me soup and ran to the store to get me ginger ale, too. In my eyes, he was bordering sainthood.

“I want you to go with me,” I say. “I think you’ll like going to church.” 

I’ve snuck off to our local church’s service a few times here and there without the gang knowing. After mom and dad died, I realized that it was a comfort to have something worth believing in. A higher power, of sorts. It helped me keep the hope that they weren’t gone forever. At first, I felt out of place. But after a while, I felt comfortable attending church. Welcomed, even.

I’d always sit in the back pew and mumble the hymns under my breath. I found myself relating to a lot of things the priest would say. Like the lessons about judgment and keeping promises. I wasn’t embarrassed or anything, I just didn’t know what the gang would think if they knew what I was up to. I didn’t want them to feel bad for me. I didn’t think they’d understand.

I had asked Sodapop if he’d go with me again and again until he finally said yes. I thought it was something we could do together. At first, he was confused. Once he realized that I wasn’t joking, he took it really seriously. Steve and Sodapop were each other’s shadows (much to my chagrin), so I should’ve known it was an unspoken invitation for him, too. Two-Bit decided to tag along because he didn’t have anything better to do, I reckon. 

“Is there singing?” Two-Bit had asked, his eyebrow raised incredulously. “I’ve heard there’s singing.”

“A little,” I said. “But you don’t have to sing along.”

“Good,” he had said with a chuckle. “Because my singing is a sin.”

I study myself in the mirror. I’m wearing Darry’s old dress shirt. The one he wore to his high school graduation. Except on him, it looked a lot better. The sleeves are a bit too long on me, and the collar is a little worn out. Despite the wrinkles, I don’t look too bad. I’d bet I’d even pass for a Soc if it weren’t for my long hair. I wonder what I’d look like if I cut it a bit…

“Pony,” I hear Steve say in a sarcastically exasperated tone. The one he always uses when he talks to me. He looks at me as if he’s repeated my name a few times. And he probably has. But I have a way of tuning people out when I’m stuck inside my own head.

“Johnny just walked in,” he says. “Let’s go.”

When we arrive at the old church, I usher everyone into the furthest pew from the front. Hoping we can sneak in undetected, I shuffle in quickly. A few older women turn around and stare at us a little too long, but I try not to notice. We surely look out of place, but isn’t there something to be said for not having any judgment?

I guess not, I think to myself as I meet their gaze.

“I’ve never been to church before,” Johnny says to me in a practically inaudible voice. “It’s nice in here.”

I nudge his shoulder, pointing directly ahead. “Look at the stained glass,” I say. It’s my favorite part of coming here. When the sun shines through towards the end of the service, it practically paints the entire room in shades of red, orange, and yellow. It reminds me of a brilliant flame - like a mirage. “It’s real nice,” he says, and I smile softly.

The priest begins talking, and I look down the row. Sodapop and Steve are jabbing each other in the sides and laughing quietly, without the slightest bit of interest in his sing-songy preaching. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and I nudge Two-Bit, who isn’t much help. Instead of stopping them, he leans over and asks what’s so funny, reveling in the entertainment. I sink a bit lower in my seat and try to focus on what’s being said by the priest. Something about having humility.

After a few minutes, I’ve sunk low enough in the pew that I’m practically on the floor. I want God to strike me right then and there – disappear from the embarrassment of it all. Sodapop, Steve, and Two-Bit haven’t stopped making noise since we sat down. Only Johnny has paid attention, nodding along whenever the priest interprets the biblical text into lament’s terms.

Every time I catch Sodapop’s eye, he bursts into laughter. I know it’s because he’s practically bursting at the seams with energy. He can barely sit still. He finds any kind of lecture too boring to pay attention. He has to cause mischief. I shake my head, cursing my former self for thinking that he could sit through a church service, let alone try to understand it.

When the velvet-lined receiving basket is shoved in front of us, Two-Bit peers in and tries to grab some of the change. The old man on the other end jerks it away from us in disgust and Two-Bit hoots at his ill-received prank. Steve and Soda find it hilarious and let out laughs that echo throughout the entire building.

When the priest ushers us to shake each other’s hands, the old women in front of us raise their eyebrows and look at us disapprovingly. Looking at the group of us, I can understand why. It almost seems like an insult for us, clad in jeans and old dress shirts, to be behind women dressed in dresses and pill box hats. I even catch Johnny’s dark face blushed with embarrassment.

“Well, peace be with you, too,” Two-Bit says in mock-disbelief. He crosses his arms theatrically and sits down with a huff. I look at him with an eyebrow raised.

“What?” he says. “Who would pass up the opportunity to shake the hands of the finest crop of upstanding young men that Tulsa has to offer?”

He leans forward enough so that his face is right behind the women’s backs. “You know, ladies. Those two are single,” he says, jerking his thumb to me and Johnny.

I cover my face in my hands. Oh, Lord.

For the rest of the service, I’m counting down the minutes and seconds until I can bolt out of the church and never look back. Thankfully, the gang keeps their antics down to a low murmur, but everyone is obnoxiously aware of our presence. I think I even notice the priest shake his head at us.

Right before we’re dismissed, I see Two-Bit and Soda wrestling over a bible.

“Put that back,” I whisper-yell, but they don’t listen. Two-Bit is trying to stand the books up in the pew next to him to build a tower, while Sodapop is trying to knock it down with a paper plane made from the church bulletin.

All of a sudden, I hear a thud. Without needing to turn my head, I know where it came from. Two-Bit snaps back into a sitting position as if he were in military formation and Sodapop stifles a laugh. It seems the entire crowd of church goers have turned around to look at us, the brazen group of greasers in God’s house raising hell.

I expect the old women in front of us to banish us right where we sit. If looks could kill, we’d be dead in the pew, and somehow, I think that’d be better than feeling the hot rush of humiliation that has burnt up my back.

With a wry smile, Two-Bit lifts his hand, waving sarcastically. “Hi, ladies,” he says with a smirk. They gasp a bit, turning around with astonished looks on their faces. 

Finally, the priest releases us to go about our day, and I’m on my feet before I can think twice. He tells us to have a great afternoon, but I’m contemplating digging a hole and hiding in it.

On the walk back to the house, the gang reminisces about our morning, oblivious to the scene we left behind.

“Did you see their faces?” Two-Bit says. “I thought someone had hiked up their skirt the way those fuddies’ mouths were hanging open.”

Soda chuckles. “I think they were all looking at you, Two-Bit.”

“Naw,” he says. “I was the most exciting thing to happen to them today.”

Sodapop slings his arm over my shoulder, not recognizing my annoyance. “Church sure was fun, Pone,” he says. “Thanks for invitin’ us.”

“Yeah, P.B.,” Two-Bit says. “Same time next week?”

My eyes widen. God help me.

-

one of my favorite headcanons is that Two-Bit calls Ponyboy “P.B.” :’) I just had to incorporate that here. & apologies for the delay. I was hoping to post this a few days ago but… life. however, I had so much fun writing this up. I just love thinking about the gang acting hilariously. And let me know who picks up on that lil easter egg I threw in there. I had to, y’all.

let me know what you think & if you have any ideas for future one-shots. I’m open to them all :)

#my writing #the outsiders #two bit mathews #two-bit #ponyboy curtis #ponyboy #sodapop curtis #sodapop #darry curtis #curtis brothers #johnny cade #dallas winston #dally winston #outsiders #the outsiders 1967 #the outsiders imagines #the outsiders fanfic #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders writings #the outsiders stories

[nijjhar]

Ultimate Sermon to the Blasphemer sons of Satan produced by the Synagogu... Ultimate Sermon to the Blasphemer sons of Satan produced by the Synagogues of Satan such as the COE. https://youtu.be/VsgIrt9P6Uk Messianic Jews who keep the Middle Candle of Elohim at the same level with 6 of Yahweh, Christ has not come. They are the sacked Priests of the Temple good for no other job than of a Priest-created Pope and his stooges. https://youtu.be/kojBz1Gylko Predictions based upon the Chosen People of Yahweh. Matt 13v24-30 is getting fulfilled. Tares would be burnt. https://youtu.be/xCP4_8JQ2ws PREDICTION BASED UPON THE "CHOSEN PEOPLE" OF THE DEMIURGE YAHWEH, BRAHMA, KHUDA, ETC. By Chaudhry Rajinder Nijjhar of the Jatt tribe M.Sc., Retired Senior Lecturer in Metallurgy, KNUST, Kumasi, Ghana, West Africa. We are very lucky to have a demonstration nation of Priests, the moral teachers, through whom we learn all the moral laws. Abram was of the Semitic race and was loved by both the black Negros and the white Aryans people and he, a Nobel Man, was picked up from the Iraq area, the cradle of humanity to settle in the Middle East as Adam, Sarah as Eve and Yahweh gave them the "Promised Land" as the Garden of Eden. So far, the generations of Abraham remained faithful to Abraham and Yahweh, the sons of Man called "Salt of the earth", they enjoyed the best fruit of the earth whilst when they had become liars and murderers, John 8v44, then the same land became barren and the unfaithful "Saltless" people were kicked out of the Promised Land called exodus remembered as "Sukkot" in which they had to leave for a foreign land (Egypt, the land of the faithful Elder son of Abraham, Ishmael) as "slaves". Jesus told this story in the Parable of the Prodigal son Isaac and how they suffered under the cruel Pheroh and Moses, the First Prophet liberated them as the repentant faithful sons of Abraham in which case, there was no more "rift" among the brethren as Moses had made them faithful to Abraham, Father bof the Faithful sons", creating "Eros, the tribal love" among them called the snakes (rifts) were lifted up in the wilderness. But this trait of the Jewish patriarchs did not vanish but became stronger at the times of Christ Jesus depicted in the "Crucification of the Most Righteous Person Jesus" by these thorough "Saltless" people on earth called the "Tares", trouble makers and their fate is foretold by Christ Jesus in the Parable of the Farmer, Yahweh, Matt 13v24-30 when the End of this Dark Age called "Kalyug" comes, I will bundle up the Tares in Israel and burn them yjrough the Atomic War expected on 14/11/2023 wjen Israel is 75 plus six months of intensive war in the name of Yahweh whilst in the Seventh Month, the Middle Candle of Elohim, Allah, Parbrahm, etc. represented by all merciful Christ Jesus, the ATOMIC WAR in which the faithful tribal sons, Wheat Plants, that are found in Africa and the Brazillian jungles will survive. The Cycle of the Four Ages is represented by Swastika. Much more in my Youtube Videos; channel One God One Faith. All this you learn through "intuition" taught not by the humans but by God within you if you are not greedy but contented with your lot. The "Blood Money" as depicted by the Temple High Priest and his stooges, especially the American Jews controlling Mammon and Media belongs to the sons of most High Satan Al-Djmar Al-Aksa who will vanish from the planet Earth leaving the 144000 tribal people to enjoy the fruits of the earth. Finally, let us Glorify our Supernatural Father of our supernatural "soul" Elohim, Allah, ParBrahm, etc. by Eating the flesh of Jesus and His Second coming "Christ = Satguru Nanak", "His Word" Preached by them by lending our ears, Mouth, and take it to our heart, the Stomach and digest it by the teeth of "Logical reasoning" to Brew "Logo" and Preach it from the Rooftops called Drinking the Blood of Christ within our own heart called the "Innerman" and not the inner woman, the Disciples of Pope, Rabbis, hireling Dog-Collared Priests working for Mammon and not God that deliver the sugar-coated sermons of falsehoods far sweeter than honey that creates sectarian riots such as Catholics and Protestants. Jesus established the Church of God, One Fold, the Fellowship of the Royal Priests, headed by One Shepherd, the unbiased like the little children Christ Jesus and His Second Coming Christ = Satguru Nanak. A typical example of the Church of Satan is the COE. Greatest Blasphemers and Killers Blair and Bush:- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9qHdTpTXHvE&list=PL0C8AFaJhsWz7HtQEhV91eAKugUw73PW1 Blair and Bush’s blasphemies against Holy Spirit https://youtu.be/0WBYOmpDuCs Shoe throwing at Bush by the Soldier of God Elohim, Allah, Parbrahm, etc., a HERO. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bush_shoeing_incident#:~:text=%22Arab%20moment%E2%80%9D.-,Event,Bush. This is America - Israel in Disguise:- Grim American Jewish Reaper www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/GrimReaper.htm   Full description:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/Rest.htm Trinity:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/trinity.pdf

#youtube

[ridetherain]

Febuwhump Day 7

Febuwhump Day 7: Poisoning

Rating: G

Words: 2379

Fandom: Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

Poisoned

After pulling the Master Sword, Link found his life much changed. Moving to the barracks within Castle Town felt similar to his regular soldier quarters in Hateno Garrison, but the city was very different. His old garrison was some distance from the nearest towns, and any mischief stirred up by soldiers was unlikely to be discovered by the public. The ruckus and gambling antics kicked up by the uncouth soldiers were generally ignored. In contrast, people of all kings surrounded the castle barracks. The city folk viewed the soldier's training as a sort of entertainment. The practice yard always had a crowd which kept the soldiers relatively on-task with their training and exercise. Families came with their unruly children and let them mimic the soldiers, and the servants used the area as a breakroom. Occasionally, the captains would lead an exercise for the older boys as a pre-recruitment opportunity. Young women were always around during these sessions as it was their best opportunity to flirt with the soldiers in training. The nobles weren't immune to the fervor surrounding the training yard either. They tended to stop on a walkway and gaze down at the warriors before turning and bustling away whenever another noble happened across the same path.

Several times, in the heat of midday, the Princess even paused on the noble walkway. She gazed down at the orderly sea of soldiers and knights from high above like an angel looking down from the heavens. The men were not unaware of her presence; they worked harder in her view, the ones sparing took more risks, and the ones running moved faster - even Link found himself striking his dummy harder and transitioning between attacks quicker. The air was thick with tension in the yard, and it only broke when the Princess turned her back and continued into the castle. It seemed that the whole company exhaled when the doors closed behind her form. Whispers broke out all around whenever she disappeared from view.

"...the goddess..."

"...Hylia on earth.."

"...beautiful..."

That was another difference between Hateno and Castle Town. Everyone in Castle Town was devout in their piety to the Goddess Hylia. They recognized the old goddesses but did not worship them any longer. Only Hylia filled the hearts of the people here and all others were cast aside. Pockets of the old faith lived in the people around rural Hyrule, and Link himself was raised to know and love the Goddess Hylia in addition to the old goddesses. The Goddess Farore oversaw his birth in the spring, so he worshiped her above all others. She was the patron of his birth, the land he was raised on in Faron, and, now that he pulled the Sacred Sword, patron of his Courage. Link's worship was not widely known but, it would likely cause a stir even without the added interest as Hylia's Chosen. The people of Castle Town were fascinated by the Spirit of the Hero. The children would look from face to face in the crowd of soldiers trying to discern which sweaty body belonged to Hylia's favorite. Their eyes would skip over him and hesitate on the tall and the bulky. It was welcome at first but insidiously worked in Link's subconscious. Why was he chosen? A bigger man, a more devout one, or a more charismatic one would be better than him.

They were used to seeing Hylia on earth when they looked at their Princess. It alarmed them that the Chosen was among them, but hidden. When Link wasn't training in the yard he was put to work as a royal guard. Despite the name, he generally spent his time guarding High Priest Volk instead of the royal family. Volk's fervor for Hylia was off-putting to nearly everyone around him which made him a prime target for pranks but not real attacks. He berated everyone for their failure to observe their devotions to the Goddess to his satisfaction while simultaneously shirking every tenant that he didn't personally agree with. Even the King was not safe from his admonishments though he was kinder about it with the monarch. The Princess took the brunt of his ire and could be seen standing steadfast as he accused the vilest concoctions his mind could invent. She was less than her mother, too frivolous for the Goddess's favor, not pertinacious enough to convince anyone of her worthiness, too emotional for wisdom. The list went on, and the Priest never relented even when the Princess stood before him with a straight back, clasped hands, and a wet face. She endured all manner of physical torments at the behest of the horrid man as well. He would dump buckets of water on the floor to simulate the sacred springs and order days of fasting for her to keep vigil in the temple without rest. When he ran out of steam he would send the Princess to the statue of the Goddess to pray alone while he preached to those who witnessed his tirades.

Volk spared Link his attitude for the first week of guard duty. The Priest seemed to find him lacking but kept quiet since he bore a physical reminder of the Goddess's favor on his back. He was spared, that is, until the Priest caught sight of a wooden talisman sewen to the inside of his tabard. The circular charm was fashioned in the shape of the Mark of Farore and the High Priest nearly fainted at the sight.

"What is that!" He cried in genuine fear. "You are the chosen of Hylia, why do you wear that blasphemous symbol?"

Link looked down at his tabard and back up at the Priest. The Mark was barely visible and pressed to the inside of his uniform. It was a wonder that the Volk had noticed it at all much less recognize the shape for what it was.

"You must remove that device at once," Volk ordered, "It is an affront to decency for Hylia's chosen to wear the device of a different goddess. We do not worship Farore in Hyrule, Master Hero, you cannot think to dishonor yourself with this blasphemy."

The High Priest of Hylia seemed to think that was enough of a rebuke to end a lifetime of devotion. He turned on his heel and walked back into the Temple to begin a new sermon. Link followed behind and stood guard while listening to the lecture on the evils of straying from Hylia and the depraved practices of those who loved Farore. He seemed to think that Link was planning to ritually sacrifice half of Castle Town and then eat the remains. At best, the ignorance was obviously false, at worst, it was actively demonizing Link's family and friends in Faron. By the time Volk was suggesting that the Princess's powers were locked away until such time as the country turned from "false deities" Link was seething behind his blank poker face. When he suggested a quick remedy of shifting the line of succession to a cousin Link was forced to turn his back on the priest under the pretense of facing the statue of Hylia. The Princess still knelt in the damp on the floor in obeisance to an unmoved Goddess. Several days of standing the nave while High Priest Volk made oblique references to Link's "barbaric" worship of Farore and Farosh gave Link all the practice he needed in keeping a straight face and his mouth shut. The vitriol became commonplace and Volk never escalated beyond preaching. Link was not required to like his charge so he stood at attention and let the words wash over him. The common people didn't know about this war of words and silence between the two men. A fervor began to take hold of the community, who believed the High Priest's sudden interest in the old goddesses was in response to a demand from Hylia herself. Volk was revered more than ever now that the people believed that Hylia spoke to him directly.

So, it was odd a few weeks later when Link was nearly done with his shift and saw that nearly no one showed up for the last service of the day. The temple was clear of the usual devotees, and the High Priest looked harried. Link was immediately on his guard, nothing was out of place, there was no suspicious activity or person, but the air felt different. His instincts screamed at him to return to the castle where a whole army was in residence.

"My lord, High Priest," Link said in a low voice, "I believe we should return to the castle. I am concerned that the congregation has not appeared. It is unusual, and I believe you can observe the required rituals from the chapel."

"No." Volk said crisply, "You do not understand the importance of this worship. Since few are here, come closer and observe the practice fully. I insist."

Link ground his teeth together. He could force the priest to return to the castle. He was allowed to force his charge to observe any safety requirements as he saw fit. But should Volk take offense, then he could retaliate. He could make Link's worship of Farore public, which would turn the citizens and possibly the royal family against him. Volk's followers could be convinced to turn their back on not only Link but also the Princess and the prophecy. It was better to get his consent.

"I worship Hylia daily, sir. I am familiar with the forms and I am certain they can be performed in the chapel. I would prefer your safety is assured."

Volk gave a pretentious sniff but bowed to Link's experience. They hurried together back to the castle and found a mob at the gate. They were shouting incomprehensively and pushing against each other, all trying to get as close to the closed doors as possible. Nervous-looking sentries stood guard on top of the wall looking down at the people. Link pulled the Priest to a side door before anyone could recognize either one of them. The sconces were unlit, and the hallway was dark. The stone floors didn't have any carpeting, and the bare walls left the enclosed space chilly.

"Apologies, my Lord." Link said in an undertone, "We will need to cross through the servant's quarters to avoid the throng. Please wait here while I ensure that none of the crowd has entered as we did."

"I want a second guard starting tomorrow," The Priest returned, too loudly, "This is unacceptable."

To keep from rolling his eyes, Link scouted the corridor, and found no unusual people wandering the halls. Several rooms were occupied by castle staff, of course.

"...poison they said..."

"...too late..."

The stable boys were gossiping in their rooms. Link tried to ignore their words until he had a chance to get some real information. He returned for Volk and led him through the maze of corridors until they reached a better lit hall, and Volk seemed to recognize where he was. He took the lead and led Link in the wrong direction for the chapel. They were following a direct path to the royal quarters and from there to the council room. Link took a step inside, did a sweep of the room, then stepped out and nodded to Volk before taking his place outside the door. Other council members trickled in over the next hour until the King arrived, and an impromptu session began. Relief guards arrived when Link's eyes started to blink more frequently, and his stomach rumbled ominously. He quickly made his way to food and information.

The mess hall was packed with the day-shift guards and the afternoon patrol which was apparently pulled in early. Link found a table with the Court Poet, Shant, and a young knight, Zain, who Link found to be restful company and good for local recommendations since he grew up in Castle Town.

"Zain," Link said in greeting. Zain nodded his welcome and moved his tray slightly as an invitation to sit.

"What's going on?" Link asked in a low voice. Despite the press of people, it wasn't loud in the hall. Everyone looked over their shoulders and whispered in hushed voices to their friends.

"The Princess," Zain said, "She's in the infirmary, and they've locked down the castle. Closed the gates and whisked the King off someplace. They say she's been murdered, and the King is dying as well."

Link's heart clenched. This was a disaster. With Ganon on the way and no royal family left they would be sitting ducks. But, he had seen the King not long ago. They couldn't have taken him out of the council room without Link noticing.

"The King is fine. I saw him enter the council room midafternoon, and he was still there when I was relieved a few minutes ago."

"The Princess is alive but unwell," Put in Shant, "I saw her to the infirmary. The doctor said something about silencing a princess, so it must be malicious. I'd guess poison."

Link tuned them out. This Princess was a magnet for danger. It must have been horribly difficult for her to be poisoned right now since the High Priest was restricting her to a cruel fasting regime. There simply wasn't enough opportunity with fewer meals sent to the Princess every day. Unless... Volk clearly was not pleased with the Goddess's chosen duo. The Princess was powerless, and he had made his opposition to Link very clear over the past few weeks. The common people believed the Princess to be the Goddess. It was only the nobility that thought of the Princess as someone replaceable. It was only Volk who policed the Princess's food.

Link couldn't accuse Volk outright. He didn't have enough clout in court. And Volk knew about his Faronian roots, which could turn the King against him. He needed evidence. The spirit of the hero within him screamed for the threat to his Zelda's life to be removed. He would find the proof... After he found an excuse to visit her in the infirmary. She didn't really know him but he needed to see with his own eyes that she lived. She was his to protect.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday7 #loz botw #loz #botw #rainworks

[wild-pineapple-butt]

During the whole preaching -so boring he could actually fall asleep being lecture like this- sermon Renji serves him, Grimmjow just rolls his beastly eyes, snarling loudly, not giving a damn about it all."Jeez ya so fuckin' annoyin' Red !!! C'me on grow a pair man seriously !" But after his -childish- useless tantrum, he finally sighs, gazing to the side,but not ignoring Renji a bit. "Fine ! Hueco Mundo it is ! Let's eat some sand... Gotta fight ya one of dese days afta Kurosaki told me bout ya"

“Yer the one who’s always comin’ around to hang out with this ‘annoyin’ person,” Renji scoffed, rolling his eyes at Grimmjow’s quite dramatic antics. He decides to not comment on the part about “growing a pair”, since he’s quite sure that Grimmjow would definitely demand to see his genitals if that’s what it came to. Giving challenges at any opportunity, to see if he could rile a fight out of the other.

However, he does raise a brow “Oh, so Ichigo told ya ‘bout me, is that so?” he smirks. “Well I guess I must be good enough fer him to mention me. Well then, what’re ya waitin’ fer, Grimmkitty? Open up that garganta, I ain’t got all day to play with ya. Unlike ya, ‘ve actually got duties ta attend to.”

@destroyandconsume

#destroyandconsume #pineappleanswers

[bigsnzstanacct]

Richie Robbins

Here’s my first, totally unfinished sneezefic. It’s all about loud sneezes, I haven’t edited it at all and tbh I found it on some random blog that had clearly grabbed stories from the forum bc I didn’t want to dig through all my old computer backups so ya know if it’s screwed up it’s not my fault.

As passionately as he desired to, he knew he wouldn't be able to evade it. It would come, as so many times before: unavoidable, uncontrollable, unstoppable. He closed his eyes, tilted back his head, let the itch like fire at the edges of his nostrils expand to set his whole nose ablaze with a tickle so strong, only a monstrous explosion could expel it. And monstrous explosions were his stock-in-trade.

"hehh...hehh...HEISSSHOOO!" he exploded. His stunned professor stopped her lecture, as the noise rang out through the huge lecture hall, waking up quite a few drowsy (hungover?) students. Flummoxed, she lost her place in her notes, as the boy sitting next to him, a jock, last name Stevens... first name he couldn't remember, muttered, "Nice one, Robbins. You planning to blow any houses down any time soon?"

Richard Robbins waited a moment before he replied, hoping to make sure the one great sneeze had been enough to expel the full magnitude of the tickly sensation in his nostrils. He sniffed before opening his mouth to reply, which was, as always, a huge mistake.

"Yeah, Ste-st... stevens... I... hah... I...iiegh...ieghhh..ihhh...ihhh..." He thought for a moment he'd gotten it under control, rushing a firm index finger to his quivering nostrils, but it was too little, too late: "Y-yeahhhh... ahhhKESHHHHHuuuhh. HEYY-SHEEUUUUEY!" Another of his roaring sneezes rang out through the room, again startling Doctor Renyolds, who had just managed to get herself composed enough to begin lecturing again. And the sneeze came with a brother, a great screaming affair which appeared to have erupted from the very depths of Richie's being, and, luckily enough, had carried with it sufficient force to finally blast out whatever was causing the terrible tickle in his nose.

"My!" Doctor Reynold's voice came, after only a few seconds, "Whoever has been exploding in my has thoroughly put me off my lecture. Were we speaking about Hamlet or 'The Waste Land'?"

Richie sank in his chair. He had hoped to avoid this, this time. All throughout high school he had been known as the school's sneeze factory, variously going by nicknames from Sneezy to Big Bad Wolf to Johnny Tsunami--that particular psudonym coming from a quite unfunny teacher--but in college, he had hoped to avoid being identified primarily by his nose.

Of course, when you had a nose as big as Richie's, it was rather difficult not to notice. It was nearly always the first thing people noticed about Richie, either because he was busy sneezing or because its moderately thin but hugely protruding shape, rather like a right triangle seen in profile, was the most commanding thing about his face. And his nostrils: they were great, wide, massive things, sucking up irritants with an unholy frequency, tickling with an unthinkable burning fury, exploding with almost unimaginable, messy force. There were times when he felt his older brothers' insistence upon calling his nose Mount Vesuvius was not wholly inaccurate.

Not that any of the men in Richie's family had room to complain about his sneezes. While Richie may have gotten a double portion, this was surely a family curse: when the six Ritchie men--three older siblings: Tristan, Adrian, and Sebastian, Richie himself, his little brother Max, and his father--were united in colds and allergies, it was a wonder Richie's mother hadn't gone deaf. All six of them complained of unusually strong itches that developed deep within their nostrils, which could only be expelled by their characteristically loud sneezes. Stifling or containing the sneezes would never do; it would only intensify the tickle--and the resulting sneezes--by several orders of magnitude.

No, there was little Richie could do in such a situation besides let himself sneeze and hope that no one would notice. Which, thus far, had never happened.

"Hey, Robbins," the jock queried, "should I send out the storm warning to little pigs?"

After class, Richie walked out onto the campus, on the way to his dorm room. He was hit full in the face by the bright September sun, and by his furious nasal tickling.

"Nodda... hiihhh... nodahhh... again... HEEEYY-SHEEUU! HISSHHH! ehh... ehhhSHIIEUUU!" He let the sneezes erupt into the open air, giving them free reign to bend him in half, three times, each sneeze bigger and louder than the previous, though, for Richie, they were comparatively light, more like minor aftershocks than the sneeze-quake itself. He wished these would've hit in the lecture hall, rather than the nuclear blasts he had actually let out.

"Well, you can't always get what you want..." Richie muttered to himself.

"But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you just might find...!" Sing-shouted Richie's best friend, Adam, who had, as ever, appeared behind him.

"How do you do that?" Richie asked, "Do you stalk men unawares in the night by custom? I'm beginning to think you're practicing to be Batman."

"Richie," Adam paused to say, mock-serious, "I am Batman. And even if I wasn't, I'd be able to locate those sneezes from halfway across the campus," laughed Adam. "But anyway, what's up?"

"Well, I exploded in the middle of my Poetry and Drama class, and I'm pretty sure Professor Reynolds hates me, but besides that, not much."

"Old Vesuvius come back to life? Well, no shock there. No offense dude, but your nose has been permanently set to stun since high school."

"Yeah, I've noticihhh... ihhhh... ihhyahhhhhhhAAESSHUUU!"

The pair began walking down the cobblestone path of the university, presumably towards the dorm rooms, then cut through the quad, where, of course, the flowers begot a huge tickle in Richie's nose. "Oh! W-waaahhh... ahhh..." He tried to get the tickle under control long enough to utter the phrase "watch out," but Adam had long since learned to gage when Richie was about to embark upon one of his voyages to a Byzantium of Richter-scale rocking sneezes, and had promptly set his fingers in his ears, got down on his knees, and, in a grand military manner, announced, "Cannons are aimed! Target has been acquired! Fire at will! Fire at will!!"

The fact that he had never, frankly, fired at will, passed quickly through Richie's mind before the sneeze washed over him, washing away all thoughts other than the sneezes, and all quiet in the quad: "yyeeaaaaaaHHHCHOOOOOOOSSSHHH"

Several stunned students turned around to locate the source of the booming noise, and Adam thought that he heard a "wow," somewhere in the distance. A few birds, it seemed, started from the trees. Adam wasn't even entirely sure that he had imagined the swaying he thought he saw in a few of the trees. There was no doubt about it: Richie could sneeze. Ever since they met in freshman year of high school, Adam had seen Richie's nose at the epicenter of a daily series of frightful detonations. This particular sneeze had been not only monstrously loud but torrentially wet, leading Adam to celebrate his decision to crouch at Richie's side; he did not want to get drenched, as he had been on more than one occasion. Ever since freshman year.

"Geez, Rich, you done?" Adam asked, after giving Richie a few seconds.

"SHEEEOOO!" Richie exploded, if possible, even louder.

"Guess not." he chuckled. After Richie (and Adam) felt sure that Richie's nose wasn't about to go nuclear again, Adam stood up, began walking, and quipped, "You know, I'm looking for a side-kick; before I swoop in and lock up the baddies, maybe I can get you to sneeze and blow 'em down!"

"Shut up, Adam." Richie joked, giving Adam a playful slap on the head, before the two rushed off trading barbs as they went.

—-

Richie reached the dormroom with comparatively few incidents, although he had to force himself more than once to obey his father’s favorite dictum: don’t stifle your sneezes. Don’t even try. Richie’d heard that particular sermon preached any number of times, along with his mother’s story: “When your father went on our first date, he tried to hold those things back, and when they finally came out”—“when she smothered her spaghetti in pepper,” his father would always interject—“I thought he was going to blow everything off the table! He sounded a little like you, actually, Richie.”

So, with his mother’s slightly nasally voice ever ringing in his ears, Richie forced himself to let out a series of noisy nasal explosions, in order to satiate his nose’s uncontrollable need for relief from its buzzing, burning, incredibly tickly itching sensations. Few people could imagine just how strong the tickles in Richie’s nose got; perhaps the only way to truly represent their magnitude was their own self-expression in his explosive sneezes. He felt fairly lucky that he'd only had to give in to three or four on his way back to the dorms, although the gaggle of women who had clearly bathed in perfume were less than joyous at the sudden, shocking explosion of elephantine nasal trumpeting which had suddenly erupted to their near right, and each had jumped at least a foot in the air, much to the amusement of Adam, who'd laughed almost as loudly as Richie had sneezed.

Adam and Richie had reached their dorm room, and were sitting about, not really doing anything, as college students are wont to do in lazy afternoons, after classes but before the dinner hours. Of course, they could have been studying, but who’d want to do that? Richie was busy plotting ways to avoid blasting the cafeteria during lunch (take an extra dose of Claritin, bring a handkerchief, and always avoid pepper like the plague), while Adam sat on the bed, debating with himself about whether or not to take a nap, when he felt a tickle invade his nose. Adam’s sneezes, while certainly not tiny, couldn’t compare in the slightest to Richie’s nasal artillery, and the “ihh… ihhhh…IT-CHEEOOooey” he released was nothing compared to a Richie sneeze.

But Adam’s nose wasn’t done yet; the tickle returned, the previous sneeze having done nothing to alleviate it, but rather seeming to have augmented it: “nyehhh… hih! hih! hehhh…” Adam’s nose vacillated on the edge of a relieving sneeze, its power building with every hitch of his breath, “nighiiee…hiegh… ighhhiee… iiiaaAAAAAHHH-CHOOO!” Adam sneezed, much harder than normal.

“Woah, buddy,” Richie murmured over his shoulder, “You really let that one go; you aiming to start a sneeze fight?”

“No, no, no, no,” Adam said, still feeling a bit lightheaded from the sneeze, which had taken more out of him than usual, “getting into a sneeze war with your nose is like bringing three sticks and a baseball bat to the Crimeahhhh… Crimeaaaaahhhh… Crimean... aayyYAH-SHEWWWESSH!” Yet another draining sneeze burst from Adam’s nose, this time with some considerable spray. “Yeesshhh,” Adam said, “that would would’ve drenched a tissue almost as bad as you would! I’m turning into a fire hose sneezer like y… you… you… Ah-CHOOeeeyyy!” Adam let out yet another sneeze, although this one was comparatively light, more in keeping with Adam’s usual sub-volcanic sneeze level.

Thus far, he’d been able to avoid it, having long since learned that if he was to ever do anything except sneeze, he’d have to suppress his sympathetic sneezing reaction. But ever since he’d been a teen, Richie’s nose had been envious of anyone who let out too many sneezes around him, and desired to experience such enormous relief as came with his hurricane-strength achooeys. Thus, he felt a slight tickle brewing when Adam had released his fourth sneeze, and when he heard Adam hitching up to a fifth—“ahhh… ahh… am… ah… am I ever gonaaaahhhh stahhh… stahhh… stop… ahhh…”—he feared his nose too, would begin to go into sneezy paroxysms.

“Adam, man, ah… ah… can you get a hold on those sneezes… my n-nose is starting to tickle too… hoohhhh… ohhhh…”

Richie struggled to get a grip on the still relatively slight tickle that had invaded his nose, as Adam did his best to hold back his sneezy nose from the delightfully relieving fifth sneeze that he knew was on its way. “ahhhh… ahhhh… I-I dunno… ohhhh ahhh… hah… It ruhhhh… ruhhhheaalllly tickles. Ahhhhh… AHHHH… AYYY-CHEOOOSHH!” He let out another sneeze, the strongest, wettest, and most forceful of the bunch, although not spectacularly loud.

But anyone waiting for a noisy nose would have little time to wait. Adam’s fifth and final sneeze had sent Richie’s sympathetic tickles into overdrive, and with almost no buildup, he reared his head back, nostrils flaring wildly like a bucking horse, and bellowed out an enormous, “CCHHHHEEEOOOOOOOO!” Followed by two more, slightly less loud but torrentially wet, “PLESSHEWEY! IT-CHEWWW!” Each sneeze was a spectacularly loud, messy affair, though they were commensurate to Richie’s normal sneeze volume, which, of course, approached the ear-splitting at close ranges. It was more than enough, Richie realized sheepishly, to sound throughout the entire dorm room floor, and maybe the floors above and below. He remembered to make a mental note to avoid staying up late nights—a late night tickle could easily turn peaceful dorm-mates into irate potential tormentors, irritated by being woken by Richie’s cannon-like sneeze. He realized, too, that he might’ve shaken people from any number of midday naps.

When Richie’s series of explosions were done, an affair which sent Richie’s body completely out of control, rearing back and exploding forward with abandon, his entire body at the mercy of his monstrously powerful lungs, mouth, and most of all, nose, Adam couldn’t resist making a quip. “See why I don’t want to get in a sneezing fight with you?”

“Yeah, I know. I hate those sympathetic tickles. Gotta keep that under control,” Richie said, as much to chide his nose as anything else.

“Under control? Your nose? That’s like keeping a bull in a china shop from disturbing a single piece of porcelain. Really wish I could find out why I was sneezin’ though. Those were pretty big for me, though for you it’d be like taking an earthshaking thunderstorm and replacing it with a light, pleasant summer rain…” Adam laughed, but paused when his joking was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” Richie shouted, fearing that it was an irate neightbor, awoken from a nap. This had been one of his many fears about college; each of his older brothers had brought home several stories of how they had woken up between one and several fellow dorm-mates, roommates and apartment neighbors (not that the Robbins boys needed to be in the same building with a person to make themselves known by their noses; the family’s suburban neighbors had revealed on several occasions that someone, usually Richie, had been audible through the windows). Tristan, the oldest, who had, after Richie, the second most Vesuvial nose in the family, once told the story of how he had woken up, very literally, his entire dorm with a series of cold-inspired sneezes, and how only the awesomely pathetic sight of his sickly state, ensconced as he was in blankets and almost covered in used tissues and hankies, had prevented him from receiving one of his dormmates infamously cruel practical jokes.

Richie hoped to avoid such a situation, and so it was with apprehension (and desperate attempts to remember his self-defense classes) that he opened the door.

“Hey, dude!” Said the surprisingly pleasant and excited looking young man at the door, “was that a sneeze, or did somebody set of a nuke in the room next to mine?”

Relieved as Richie was by the friendliness of the visitor, Adam slightly sluggishly slid out of bed, laughing as he did, “That’s my man here, Richie, the Nose extraordinaire, the loudest sneeze in the west, superman of sneezes, the titan of ticklish nostrils, Sir Vesuvius himself, the leaf-blower…”

“Richard, just Richard is my name.” Richie cut in, eager to cut Adam off before he got to the detested “Johnnie Tsunami” epithet.

“Well, Richard-just-Richard, I had to come over here to see if that nose actually just came out of a person!”

“Sorry, I can’t help it…” Richie said, suddenly blushing slightly, “I hope I didn’t wake you or anything…”

“Nah. I wasn’t doing anything. But really, you just sneezed that loud? You got some kinda supernose or somethin’?”

“Well, it’s not exactly thin, as you can see,” Adam began, with a professorial air, “and the protruding shape and large nostrils provide some explanation as to its loud-speaker like qualities…”

“It’s just been that way since I was a kid,” sighed Richie, mildly put off by the awkward conversation.

“Dude, I haven’t heard a sneeze that loud since, like, ever, probably. Although my dad sets off some real firecrackers back at home… I didn’t think I’d hear anything like that for another few months. Kinda reminds me of home, actually.”

“Well, anytime you get homesick, just give us a ring and bring the pepper, though you might wanna bring some earplugs actually…”

“Adam. Geez, do you ever run out,” Richie inquired, with an irritated air.

“Not really.” Adam replied straightforwardly, "I'm a joke machine. And a love machine. Just FYI, let the ladies know..."

“Well,” the visitor declared, “Adam, Richie, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Jerry.” He stuck his hand out, and Richie shook it forcefully, though he found his grasp met with a vice shaking like a centrifuge.

“Nice to meet you, too.” Richie said, wincing slightly from the handshake.

“Hey, dude, we’re headed to lunch soon, wanna come?”Adam asked cheerfully.

“Yeah, totally. I was actually kinda hoping to avoid eating lunch alone,” Jerry confessed, “though I don’t know how you get through lunch, dude. Better warn ‘em: hide the pepper!”

That’s a joke I haven’t heard before Richie thought to himself. But, though not original in his jokes, this new acquaintance wasn’t half-bad, and was certainly an improvement upont the angry neighbor Richie’d feared he’d encounter. And speaking of curing homesickness…

“Are you wearing co-cologne… cologne… ehhhhh… ehhhhhhh… EHHHHHSSSSHOOOO!” Richie erupted another characteristically noisy sneeze, which, at unusually close range, prompted both Jerry and Adam to dramatically cover their ears to avoid the full blast of Richie’s nasal explosion, which was easily a nine on the Richter scale, probably a ten.

“Geez, man, I thought they were loud through the wall!” Jerry said, awestruck.

“Richie’s nose? Man, you haven’t seen anything yet. He’ll blow the paint off the walls before we graduate,” Adam joked, yet again.

“I think I might go ahead and take a shower,” Jerry responded, “I’ll meet you guys in about thirty minutes, alright?”

“Sounds great!” Adam said.

Richie would’ve replied, but Jerry’s cologne hadn’t yet finished with Richie’s surpassingly tickly and tickle-able nose. “hahhhh… HAHHHHH…HEHSHOOOH!” Richie erupted again, thanking his lucky nasal stars that his nose had seen fit, for once, to not let out a great big wet one while he was right in someone’s face. He opened his mouth to say, “nice to meet you,” but what came out was another, “TITCHEWWWEY! SHEWWWWWSH!” It was hugely, horribly wet, and in his zeal to avoid blasting his new compatiot, he had turned and, inadvertently, sprayed a great, big wet one into the face of his good friend Adam.

“Well… um… are you trying to tell me you don’t like my jokes, buddy?”

Now, getting sprayed by a sneeze was usually a messy affair, but getting sprayed by a Richie sneeze was pitched somewhere between “elephant sneeze” and “sprayed by a fire hose”. Adam was drenched, and Richie found himself reflecting yet again as to why he never, never attempted to use a pathetic tissue to hold up against the surpassing force of his all-powerful nasal eruptions, the tickly twin cannons of wind, wet, and sound that had taken up residence on his face, began full-strength operations in high school, and seemed to grow in power alone as their experience increased.

“Well, I think I’ll be taking a shower too.” Adam said, before promptly turning around, grabbing a towel and some clothes, and rushing to the bathroom, letting out an irrepressable, high-pitched, and surpassingly effete “EWWWWWW!” which sent Richie and Jerry into shaking convulsions of laughter.

—

After cleaning himself off from Richie’s hurricane-force discharge, Adam proceeded to the downstairs dining hall to meet both Richie and their new friend Jerry. Of course, he heard Richie before he saw him. “heh… heh… HAT-CHOOO!” It was a comparatively small one for his good friend Rich, but the noise still carried well out of the dining room and into the hallway. Adam often kidded Richie about his sneezes, but half the time he genuinely felt bad for the guy. After all, those massive eruptions that had punctuated almost his entire high school experience weren’t just occasional explosions, they were daily at the very least. Any number of things lit Richie’s sneezing fuse, setting off a chain reaction inside Richie’s nose that led inexorably to a blast of such volume and violence that people often inquired of Richie how such a loud noise could come out of a 45-year old 6’ 10’ two-hundred-thirty-pound ex-logger construction worker with a bad head cold, much less little old Richie Robbins. Every time he sneezed with people around, Richie would blush, shrug, and, Adam knew, mentally wish himself out of the room. It wasn’t easy having a semi-superpower—not that it’d do any good in a fight, Adam mused—for a sneeze. But it was life for poor Richie, and that was simply that.

For Adam’s part, he’d never been particularly bothered by his best friend’s outrageous a-choos. Maybe he just had ears of steel, but the volume didn’t bother him, and it did provide a decent shake-up during lulls in conversation. Heck, he’d been a regular vistor to the Robbins household, and that was an experience unto itself. Multiplying Richie’s sneezes with a father, three older brothers, and one younger made a ruckus that just didn’t make sense. If anyone needed proof that sneezes were hereditary, well, Adam knew where to bring them. He’d heard the same story from all six Richie men: it’s the tickles. The tickles, itches, tingles, and twinges that invaded the Robbins family sinuses were purportedly unbearable, like a thousand invisible brushes sweeping all the way up the nasal cavity. And the only way to get those brushes (temporarily) out was to let out a blast that could be heard across three counties (or at least a small suburban house… and a few of the adjacent ones.) Their sneezes came from their toes and then some. But the big sneezes were just the only way that they could relieve the incredible pressure and the tickle that built up in their large, protruding nostrils, swishing around their noses with an unimaginable irritation. The ones with long build-ups were the worst. He’d seen Tristan and Adrian, Sebastian and Max, even Mr. Robbins, staring up at lights, forcefully fanning under their noses, doing anything to tip the tickle out of the gate and onto the flight ramp, at which point a sneeze would shoot out from their nostrils of which any elephant would have been proud.

It was thoughts like this that preoccupied Adam as he sat down with Richie and Jerry, who were discussing the finer points of eruption-inspiring allergens.

“For my dad, is the dogs that are the worst, man, get him within ten feet of a dog, especially one of those great big shaggy things, and oh man… it’s time to break out the protective earmuffs, I’m tellin’ you…”

“Yeah, dogs get me bad too, but the cats… oh… waay… wait a second… I’b gonnahhhh… ahhh… HASHOOOEY!” Richie gasped out a “’nother… nothaaahhh” before bursting into a second tectonic shift of a sneeze, “YASSSHOOOOOO! Oh, I’m so sorry, that was a big one.”

“They’re always big ones, Rich!” Adam said as he sat down.

“Can’t argue with you there.” Richie sighed. While he often wished he could just get rid of his charateristic sneez-plosions, Richter rockers, or Richie Roars, as his nasal expulsions were variously called, Richie was grateful for friends that weren’t repulsed, shocked, or amazed by his sneezes, and he felt much less self-conscious about lettin’ it rip when Adam, or, as of today, Jerry, was around. Not that he had much (or any) choice.

“So, you two comparing notes?” asked Adam.

“Yeah,” Jerry said, “so far, we’ve mentioned flowers, pepper, animals…”

“Actually, most spices get me, red pepper worst of all.” Richie began, “In fact, the reason I sat down at this table is because it doesn’t even have a red pepper shaker, thank goodness. But I’ve blown back the fur and feathers on just about any pet you can imagine…”

They continued on talking like this, unaware that at the table just behind them, the very jock that had filled the standard role of Richie’s sneeze tormentor was subtly listening in on their conversation. Ashton Stevens was his name, and he, like Jerry, had also had a big sneezer at home. But he didn’t have such generous memories of his parents’ noisy noses. In fact, he had been driven nearly insane by his mother and father’s constant loud sneezes, which, unlike Richie’s, seemed put-on, fake, as if they both just wanted to announce to the world how noisily they could sneeze. The crowning moment had been that day, the day of senior prom… but Ashton tried not to think about it. For his part, he had rather dainty sneezes, somewhat at odds with his large and muscular build. He, of course, had never been plagued with allergies on the level of Richie’s, but he had gone through an allergic phase as a teen. During that time he constantly focused on controlling his sneezes, squelching them down until they were little more than a semi-audible, “chuh”. Richie’s gargantuan gale winds had brought him right back to that moment at the senior prom, and he secretly seethed inside every time Richie’s nose went out of control and spasmed with a silence-smashing sneeze. But he was formulating a plan, in the back of his mind, that would shame Richie into shutting up, as his parents never would.

Meanwhile, as Ashton Stevens seethed, Richie (predictably) sneezed. “yeaaaahhhh, ahhhh… aaaaahpppppSHEWWW! Uh, another one. I don’t know what’s making my nose so itchy!” The sneeze, honestly, had been the lightest one he’d let out in a while, only audible above speaking voices at the end, indicating a comparatively low-level irritation. Probably a stray flake of black pepper. While he reacted to pepper as much as anybody else, Richie had never had nearly as much of a problem with pepper as he did with dander, other spices, and the dreaded perfume and cologne.

“So,” Adam inquired, “what are you boys up to this evening. It’s Friday night, and ah… ah… HAT! CHOO!” Adam let out a neatly segregated sneeze, a firmly punctuated breath drawn in followed by a neat and tidy choo, which, although somewhat wet, was not extremely loud, as per the normal pattern of Adam’s sneeze. “Woah, I don’t know why I keep sneezing.”

“Yeah, come to think of it, neither do I,” Richie added, “do you think you’re allergic to something up here?”

“Nah, I’m as hardy as a bull, allergens can’t get me down. Try as they might, they cannot invade the fortress of my mighty nasal guard. Granted, they don’t have as big of a target on mehh… on mehhhh… me… as…. BAA-shewww!” Adam sneezed again, with a sound that sounded utterly fed-up with sneezing.

“Any chance you might be getting a cold?” Jerry inquired. Adam and Richie exchanged anxious looks. Each knew what the other was thinking: if Richie caught a cold, his sneezes, seemingly impossibly, would grow significantly in strength, volume, and mess.

“No,” Adam said, attempting to laugh away the possibility, “No way! The last time I had a cold was…”

“The camping trip in eleventh grade. And I promptly caught it and nearly blew down our tent on several different occasions.” Richie finished for him, “And I hope it’s not happening now,” he moaned, “because if you get sick, then I’ll get sick, and if I get sick…”

“Don’t worry, Rich!” Adam insisted, “I’m not getting sick! But so you don’t worry, I guess I’ll take some vitamins, and call it an early night, I guess…”

“No way, man!” Jerry interrupted, “we’ve barely been in college for a week. We’re goin’ out tonight. We’re going somewhere, and if you don’t like it, mister, too bad!”

Adam laughed. “Well, can’t argue with a command like that, sir. Where do we go?”

“There’s a nice bar nearby,” Richie offered.

“No, no, no, I mean a real club: loud music, sloppy drunks, and scantily-clad women.” Of course, at the mention of women, all three hormone-addled brains perked up instantly, and any reluctance at club-going was instantly erased.

And, Adam saw another perk:

“Plus, the club’s so loud, Richie, that it’s probably one of the few places on earth where your sneezes can’t carry. You know, places like construction sites… death metal concerts… one of my sister’s shouting—I mean singing recitals…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. But that’s actually a good point, and the sneezes have actually been comparatively light...” but suddenly Richie’s eyes got a distant, faraway look. His nose scrunched up, and the itch exploded in his nostrils like a thousand buzzing tiny, invisible flies, sending his nostrils into a rampage of twitching, his upper lip, his entire face swishing and moving with the enormous need to sneeze that had burgeoned so suddenly in his nostrils. This was gearing up to be a real monster; his breath hitched, “hahhhh… hahhhh…,” his eyes bulged. He reached his hand up to try to scrub away the itch, although he knew it was useless. This was shaping up to be the biggest sneeze that had hit him all day… “hih! hih! ah! ah! ah! ooooh, it won’t come ou… outahhhh… ahhhhhh… ahahhhh… ahahhah…” the sneeze stuck for a moment, leaving Richie’s face in a mask of sneezy agony, the corners of his mouth turned firmly down, his eyes tearing and glancing upwards, searching for a light bright enough to send his brewing eruption into its final stages of detonation, his eyebrows severely arched. His watering eyes rapidly blinked for what seemed an eternity, before he gave his nose one more good sniff and gave in to the inevitable detonation: “hhhhaaAAA-AARRSCHOOOhhh! HAAA-HOOOOOSH-SHOOOOEY! Ahhh… igghiee… hah…" He hitched for just a few seconds before absolutely roaring out the thermonuclear explosion of his final sneeze: "RAAH-SCHOOOOOOOOHH!”

“Woah.” Said Adam and Jerry simultaneously.

The sneeze was so big, it left Richie panting a little after. It wasn’t just the biggest sneeze all day, it was the biggest set of sneezes he’d had in a month! Richie had rocked back and forth with each colossal sneeze, giving his tickly nose complete abandon. The sneezes took him over, and each was a nearly-shouted affair that was louder than most people can shout. Those sneezes seemed to come from his whole body, his nose being merely the epicenter of the eruption. He was completely out-of-control for each massive gusting sneeze, his whole frame shaking and swaying at the mercy of his king-sized schnoz and the unbearable itch that had taken three of Richie’s most powerful sneezes to expel. When he opened his eyes afterward, he was half-afraid that he’d blown the table away!

Adam and Jerry, prepared by experience, had covered their ears, but the rest of the dining hall… well, being unprepared, some had dropped forks, plates, and cups, most had stopped their conversations, and quite a few shocked “what was that?”s sounded around the room. Those had been big even for Richie, far too loud, in fact, for anyone to hear the near-simultaneous soft, tickly “chuhh! ch-hoooh! chuhh! ka-chuuhhh!” that had come from the next table over, soft barely-there puffs of air in comparison to Richie’s Kansas twister sized sneezes, which he swore would have been big enough to send Dorothy not only to Oz, but to the other said of Mars.

“Dude,” Adam said, as the dining room slowly went back to normal, after being rocked by Richie’s “You totally shouldn’t have jinxed it.”

“Ha-ha,” Richie said, not feeling exceptionally prepared for laughing after single handedly—or rather, single-nosedly”—overpowering an entire dining room full of noisy college students in volume. “Let’s just get out of here as quickly as possible. I don’t want another one of those to happen… and I think… there might still be the beginnings of a… ah…” Richie quickly clamped his hands over his nose, hoping that he might fight the tiny residual tickle back before it became another of room-rocker, or at least get outside into the open air to release the beast.

Adam, Richie, and Jerry hurried surreptitiously out of the dining room. At the table behind them, sat Ashton Stevens, face upturned, irritated tears forming in his eyes, but a smug smile on his face, nose twitching and jerking with otherwise imperceptible “chooh! chuh! ha-hushh!” sneezes, with a plate of spaghetti practically drenched in red pepper. His little “experiment” confirmed, he threw the plate away, which promptly cleared up his sneezes, and walked calmly out of the dining hall, but not before slyly sliding the red pepper shaker into his waiting pocket.

--

Richie had, of course, erupted again outside, although once out of the range of the red pepper flakes that were like gunpowder for Richie’s cannon-like nostrils, the sneezes hadn’t registered quite so high on the Richter Scale (“a minor aftershock!” Adam had quipped).  But sneezes that huge left Richie concerned; could he be catching a cold? That would be disastrous. Besides feeling bad, he could hardly go to class, detonating another sneeze every few minutes, sneezes that would rock a three hundred person lecture hall and perhaps even send his papers flying down to the row below, sneezes that would throw even the most concentrated lecturer off of his or her game, sneezes that, in a smaller classroom, would probably disturb not only his own class, but all the classes on the floor! Of course, he’d had mega-sneezes like that before, and it didn’t always mean he was catching a cold, but if he was… well, he’d just take a lot of vitamin C that night. But going to bed early wasn’t an option. Richie, Jerry and Adam were going to a nearby club, Club Z, for a night on the town. After running back upstairs to change (again), the threesome left their dorm and headed towards Club Z, chatting all the while.

“So, Rich, how are classes going?” Adam asked, to get the conversation started.

“Oh, pretty good, when I’m not busy sneezing through them. Sebastian warned me that his sneezes tend to disrupt standard professorial activities, so I knew mine would probably blow out a few eardrums. Not that I’m not used to that sort of thing.”

“How about you, Jerry?”

“Oh, things are going well for me too. Chemistry is kicking my butt, but besides that I’m doing pretty well. That class is so boring! I almost wish that someone would come in there with a great big Richie-cane kinda sneeze. At least that way things wouldn’t be quite as boring!”

“Oh, you would have loved our high school then,” Adam cut in, “Almost every time I fell asleep in class, Richie’s nose would get an itch and once the nasal volcano got going, sleeping was not an option.”

“Whatever, Adam,” Richie said, blushing slightly at the extended discussion of his nasal… ahem, prowess, even among friends, “I didn’t even have a half of my classes with you.”

“Exactly.” Adam replied, smiling. *** Soon, Richie and company arrived at the club. However, they were still several feet away when the perfume started getting to Richie’s nose: “ah…. ahhhh… agghhha… igghhiiie… AAAA-CHOOOOH! heh… heh… AHHH-CHOOOOOH!” he sneezed, blasting out the tickly perfume smell as hard as he could. When Richie sneezed, his whole body was involved; in fact, Adam was surprised that Richie didn’t have a six-pack from all the forceful contractions of his stomach and chest as he roared out all that sneezy air at obscene velocities, and decibel levels.

“Bless ya, buddy. Are there some flowers around,” inquired Jerry.

“Na… no, nahhh.. ahhhhh WAAAAAASSSHOOOO! ARRRR-CHOOAAAYYYY!” Richie screamed out each sneeze. While not as loud as the true Richie-canes of the dining hall, these sneezes produced more than enough volume to echo loudly off of the nearby buildings and turn quite a few heads. Richie was quite afraid that an irate head would poke out of one of the windows of the high-rise apartment buildings on the street to demand that he achieve the impossible feat of quieting down his great lion’s roar of a sneeze.  He’d been asked by more than one teacher (and moviegoer, and theater patron, and restaurant waiter, and even, on one notorious occasion, a few patrons at just the sort of rock concerts that Adam had supposed would be loud enough to drown out Richie’s roars, but then again, not only were all the people there drenched in cologne and perfume, but Richie had left from a friend’s house who had a very furry german shepherd, and Richie had the beginnings of a cold) to control his thunderclap sneezes, but, like the thunder, Richie’s sneezes were a force of nature, and could not be quieted down or controlled any better than the wind.

Hoping he’d gotten his nose under control with that last massive sneeze, Richie ventured to speak, “No… it’s the perfume... oh, wait… ‘nothing one’s cahhhh…. coming…. RAAAAASSSSHOOOOOH! YASSSSSSHHHHHHHH-OOO!” Richie sniffed loudly, as two girls, one of who was probably wearing the sneeze-causing perfume, looked around. The girl wearing the perfume, alright slightly tipsy, half-spoke, half-shouted, “Ugh, I can’t stand it when people exaggerate their sneezes like that! Can’t he control it? That’s just too loud!”

Aside from the irony of the woman commenting on Richie’s loud sneezes with her loud voice (although Richie had to admit that even a trained opera singer would have difficulty keeping up with him in volume when he really got going), Adam was offended by her comments about his friend, and was about to walk up and give the perfume drenched woman a piece of his mind when her friend abruptly did it for him!

“Oh, Charlene, be quiet! They can hear you. Besides, how can you expect a poor kid to control his sneezes when you can’t even control your big mouth!” Adam had to admit that he was impressed, and as Charlene and her assertive friend got in line for the same club as Adam, Richie, and Jerry, Adam made a mental note to “bump into” her at some point that night. Maybe Richie’s wind-machine strength allergies would flare up again and give him an excuse to talk to her?

Meanwhile, Ashton wasn’t far behind the trio, cringing at each of Richie’s elephantine sneezes. He thought to himself, “This is ridiculous! He sneezes even louder than my father! How embarrassing! I don’t even know how those other goons can stand to be seen around him. I’ll teach him not to be so disgusting with his sneezes.” As the perfume got to his nose, Ashton harshly muffled three sneezes by pinching his nostils, “shhhmp! chikkk! ch!” They were barely audible. Ashton fingered the red pepper in his pocket as he watched Richie and company walk into the club. He bided his time for a few minutes, and then, after walking around the block a bit, went in as well.

—-

As soon as the threesome entered the club, Ritchie rushed off to the restroom, hoping to give his nose a good, strong blow to clear his nose of perfume and pollen, so as to head off the sneezes at the pass. But by the time he reached the restroom door, his twitching, tickling nose had had too much, and, bleary-eyed, Richie let it take over for six full-strength sneezes: “HAASSSSSHHHHHOOOooooo… hh… hhhiiiiiIIIIIIIIICHOOOOOOO! Ih-CHOOO! haaahHH-CHOOOOOO! ahhhhhHHH-CHOOOO! HAHH-CHOOOOOOOhhhhheyyy” That last one was a monster, making a gutteral, throat-scraping sound as the normal “choo” was twisted by Richie’s awe-inspiring lung power into a growling, snarling shout of a sneeze, leaving Richie somewhat lightheaded and dizzy. And of course, he immediately connected the number of sneezes (Richie rarely let out so many all in a row like that) to the head cold he was desperately afraid was brewing in his firecracker nostrils, those wide, vacuum-like tunnels where tickles went in, and sneezes came out that were second only to the Big Bad Wolf with a bad cold.

And speaking of colds, Richie was terrified of developing one. Every cold he’d ever had had settled directly in his nose, causing a near-constant tickle that he could only blow out with his biggest, most ear-drum busting, dorm-wall rattling, earthquake-causing sneezes. Even Richie’s biggest sneezes could only provide momentary relief from the tickle; minutes later, the tickle would come back with a vengence, and so would the sneezes, until Richie would deliberately blow them out as hard as he could, just to get the tickle to stop for a few minutes. Richie’s colds were events in the Robbins household (and every house on the surrounding block); he hoped and prayed they wouldn’t become events on-campus too.

Looking around the restroom and finding it (thank goodness) empty, Richie marched to a stall to give his nose a few of his patented, honking nose blows. While not quite commensurate to his sneezes in volume, those bass-note honks of his could certainly send a rumble through any room, and Richie was glad that the room remained empty as he did his best to keep his nose free and clear, so as to minimize sneezing episodes.

Meanwhile, Adam and Jerry were on the prowl, and getting shut down all the time. Jerry had offered to buy drinks for no less than three women, with no success, while Adam’s jokes were falling unusually flat, perhaps owing to the volume of the music and the near-impossibility of hearing anything (except perhaps for Richie) over the thumping bass and wailing noise of the speakers.

So it was that Adam and Jerry had given up and begun dancing their way into the morass of people at the center of the club, when Richie went searching for them. Of course, hidden as they were in the mass of people, Richie had no hope of finding either of his friends, and sat down at the bar, quickly flashing his (fake) ID, and ordered a beer. He figured he’d wait until he found Adam and Jerry to start dancing, and he was sure that his nose would give him ample opportunity before then to test Adam’s theory that the noise of the club would muffle the rumbling explosions of his nose.

In fact, as the bartender slid Richie his beer, Richie felt his nose flaring into life. His breath hitched, his face contorted, his nostrils assuming control of his face, twisting this way and that as though they had a life of their own, reacting to the bucking bronco of itch that had, as always, brushed ferociously against the twitching walls of his sensitive nostrils. And as Richie’s face contorted, his watering eyes slid closed in preparation of the great big sneeze to come…

…and Ashton Stevens saw his chance. He’d been sitting at the bar, plotting how he could cause misery for Richie at the club. Luckily, he’d been at the bar while Richie had erupted in the restroom (especially since the only thing Ashton found more disgusting than sneezes was nose blowing), but now he was sitting not too far from Richie, and had been spying on him out of the corner of his eye since Richie had sat down. Now was his chance. He slid the small shaker of red pepper out of his pocket and sent a cloud floating up into the air, knowing that the strong air conditioning in the room, as well as the breeze from the constantly opening front door, would waft the tickly spice straight into Richie’s all-too-combustible nose.

And he was right. Seconds later, Richie froze, as he felt the tickle in his nose multiply exponentially. The itch in his nose, already monstrous, became a thousand buzzing flies, scurrying through his nasal passages, wreaking havoc on his sensitive sinuses, creating such tremendous pressure in his nose that he knew that the only way to get any relief would be to blast out a sneeze at full-strength. He felt it gearing up to be as big as the one in the dining hall, if not bigger. Out of his watery eyes, he took a quick glance around him: there was no way he’d get to the restroom before his Vesuvial nose gave an eruption that would put Mt. St. Helens to shame, and the way his nose was feeling, it’d be wet enough to outshine Old Faithful. But there were so many people around. Richie had been warned about it time and time again, and he knew he shouldn’t… but he didn’t want to spray any strangers! So… he stifled.

“ahh…. Ahhhhhh… AHHHHHHHHH… AGGGHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAA…” He wound up, with huge, powerful breaths, and then… “chhhmmppppppppppp!” He sneezed, somewhat wetly, but contained, and with nowhere near enough volume to be heard over the noise of the club. Stifling successful.

But his nose was on fire. It was as if he had quadrupled the already unimaginable tickle. If he was going to fire off one eruption before, now he was preparing for a twenty-one-gun salute. Finger struck firmly beneath his nose, Richie rushed to the restroom as fast as he could, pushing past the clubgoers in the crowded club, afraid to give so much as an “excuse me” for fear that speaking would tip the sneeze into the uncontrollable zone. Richie forcefully pushed the door open as he marched into the restroom, which was, of course, filled with people. In the already small, echoing restroom, Richie’s sneezes would probably reach ear-splitting volumes and annoy, if not terrify, every patron in the restroom. But it wasn’t as if he had any choice; he had to let the monsters loose.

Richie quickly swung a stall door open and closed as his breaths became audible, and grew louder, and louder… “iiihhhhhh… HHHHHiiiiIIIHHHHHH… HAHHHHHH… HAHHHHHHH…. HHAAAAHHHHHHHHH…HAAAAAAAAAAAAA-SHOOOOOOOOOOOOO! BAAACCCHOOOOOEEYYYY! HASSSHHH! HAHHSSHHHHuuhh… OOOO-SHOOOOOOOH! USSSSHHHHHH-CHHAAAHHH! Ahhhhh… Ahhhh… ahhhhh…CHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

They came, sneeze after sneeze after sneeze, outrageous in volume, hurricane like in spray. Richie heedlessly swung backwards and forwards, gulping in air to fuel each massive explosion. He knew now why his parents had warned him to never, never hold in his sneezes, because this was the result: a constantly seizing nose in a fit that would last for minutes.

The reaction of the men in the restroom, as expected had been vocal and noisy. The already somewhat drunken patrons had no trouble voicing their disapproval: “What the hell?! Did somebody drop a bomb in here? Shuddup in there, I can’t hear myself think!”

But Richie, whatever he wished, he no ability to shut up. His nose was in control now, and it was going to blow, and blow, and blow until the pent-up tickle was blasted out, full-strength.

“Hehhhh… ehhhhhh… EEHHHHH-SHOOOOOH! EH-SHOOOH! Eghhhhaaaa… haaaa… haaa… YAAAAAAA-SHHHEEEEEWWWWWWWW!  SHIISSSHHHHH! ISSHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHH-SHOOOH! AHHHHHHHH-SCHOOOO! AH-SHOOOOH!”

The sneezes just kept coming, unbelievably loud, unbelievably powerful. This was one of the longest fits Richie could remember (though probably not the worst he’d experienced). Gradually, the sneezes grew farther apart: “haahhhh.. hahhhh.. HA-SHOOO! Ahhhhh… HA-SHUU! iiSHHHIIII-OO!”

Each sneeze, though still loud enough to echo through the restroom, was at a more manageable volume. Still, Richie was exausted from firing off sneeze after sneeze, and as his nose finally let out its final “heh… heh-chhh-EW!” Richie just wanted a nice long nap. He sat in the stall for a moment to survey the damage. He had been right about the spray; he could see the glistening drops decorating the entire stall door as though it had been hit with a hose. He still heard the men grumbling and muttering about his sneezes, and he was sure that those who were in the restroom (and probably those near the door) would spread the word to their friends about Richie’s incredible eruption. Sometimes, Richie just wished that his nasal curse could just go away. Why was his family cursed with the world’s most massive sneezes? Why was his nose the epicenter of such eruptions? But, as he sniffed gently, preparing for a nose blow to clear the last bits of congestion in his nose, he was glad for one thing: the tickle was completely gone.

Meanwhile, Ashton had been standing near the door, and had heard Richie firing off sneeze after sneeze after sneeze. He was red with rage; that fit had been exactly like the one his dad had blasted out at Ashton’s senior prom, in the middle of Ashton’s prom king acceptance… all over the prom queen. She dumped Ashton within the week.

Turning violently on his heel, Ashton marched out of the club, certain that he had a new secret weapon to use against Richie: if he could get him to clam up those sneezes, just once, then he knew Richie would fire off a show of sneezes so loud that Ashton could use it to embarrass Richie in front of anyone within earshot; in other words, Ashton grimly laughed to himself, anyone within a five-mile radius.

—-

Ashton, however, had not been the only person close enough to the restroom to hear those gale-force blasts trumpeting out from Richie's nostrils of fury. In fact, just as Richie was beginning to launch into a fit for the ages, Jerry had decided he ought to slip off to the restroom; no need to "break the seal" yet, but Jerry had anticipated he was in for a fairly long night, partying with his newfound friends, and--hopefully--with a few more newfound "friends" from among the club's very attractive female population, and as such wanted to make sure that his tiny bladder would not interfere with his very large-sized dreams---oh, alright, fantasies---of what would go on that night.

But Jerry was pretty far from the door when he heard that tell-tale eruption coming from the men's room. He quickly stuck his head into the restroom and knew immediately the source of the disturbance. He would scarcely have believed that even Richie could sneeze so forcefully. He was putting up a good fight with the music in the club, and that was deafening as it was. Heck, at close range, Richie's nose could have outdone a shotgun, a leafblower, a small nuclear explosion... but in the midst of these musing, Jerry noticed Ashton. Unlike everyone else in the restroom (and nearby), who were scrambling to get away from the noise, Ashton seemed transfixed. He was just standing by the restroom door, not going in, didn't seem to be coming out, and he had the most peculiar, almost devious expression on his face. Of course, Jerry knew Ashton somewhat---Ashton was touted as one of the most talented football players of the freshman class, and at their D1 school, that meant a lot. But this threw Ashton in a completely different light. Why on earth was he just standing there? And what was that strange look that passed across his face each time Richie bellowed out another monsterous, "HHHHHEEEEEESSSSSSSSCHHHHHOOOOOOOOoooooh!" Jerry was not a suspicious person by nature--and as Richie's twenty-one gun salute went on, he knew he had to check and see if Richie was alright--but he filed that instance away in his mind as yet another strange happening of college life.

The more important thing was to check on Richie. When it finally seemed that Richie's nose had calmed down enough that he'd be able to speak, Jerry ventured forth a, "Hey, man, you alright in there?"

"Jerry?" Richie responded, fearing the worst, "oh, god, don't tell me you could hear me all the way out..."

"No, no, man, I was just heading to the restroom when I heard the big bang from outside the door, don't worry. But what happened there? I didn't think you were ever going to stop!"

"N-neither did... oh, god, h-here ihhhh... here it gooohhhh... ohhhhh... oohhhhhh... ahh... HA-CHOOOOH! Man, thought I was done there," Richie give a liquid sniff, "but the aftershocks just sneak up on me."

"And speakin' of sneakin', there you guys are!" Adam quipped.

"Are you just everywhere?" Richie asked, half-laughingly, half-exasperated. Adam had the strangest habit of popping up everywhere.

"A magician never reveals his secrets, young Richard." Adam gave a sudden gasp before, "Ha-chooOOSH! Huh... hashhhooo! Ugh, must be in the air," Adam said, as he grabbed a tissue from the sink counter to blow his nose. He was a bit of a nasal honker, and his blows were decidedly louder than his generally quiet, gentle sneezes (although, in comparison to a Richie-cane, your average elephant was pretty quiet and gentle), and were much louder when he had a cold---because he didn't have Richie's almighty, head-clearing sneezes, he relied much more on forceful nose-blowing to blast out the itch from his nose, and still had far less success--unsurprisingly--that a full-force sneeze from Richie, even without a cold or that dreaded red pepper.

Richie, however, wasn't so sure that something was "in the air"; the humongous fit he'd just succumbed to made him almost positive: he was catching a cold.

"No, Adam, it's not 'in the air'--we're sick, and I'm going home." Richie declared. Adam was somewhat taken aback at his friend's unusually forceful tone, but he knew that, as always, he could joke his friend out of his resolve.

"Oh, you're not sick---granted, a 300-pound body builder with a bad head cold and a wind machine up his nose probably can’t compare to the ‘ol schozz-cannon you’ve’ got… but those, my friend, were not cold sneezes.”

“How do you know?” Richie demanded.

“I still have hearing in my right ear, obviously.”

#snz story #snz fic #male allergies #male cold #wow I haven't read this in like a decade #I should reread it maybe #old fics