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#the wicked
azural83 · 1 year
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Why changing glinda's dress color is not a good idea:
It erases the visual cues of her development. After the first act,both her and elphaba's outfits reflect their impact on each other,with elphaba wearing purplish magneta and glinda wearing blue,just like elphaba's first outfit
Pink and warmer colors in general are meant for first act!glinda,representing her bubbly and energetic personality while the color blue shows her maturity and her inner sadness. The movie dress just looks too cheerful for her current state
Come on now who on their right mind decided that the bubble dress wasn't perfect enough and downgraded it to whatever grande is wearing
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In all seriousness I understand that they're trying to pay homage to the original wizard of oz movie but glinda's dress serves an important part in the narrative,it'd be really disappointing if they just got rid of it
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quotesfromscripture · 13 days
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2 Thessalonians 2:1-3 NRSVA
"As to the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ and our being gathered together to him, we beg you, brothers and sisters, not to be quickly shaken in mind or alarmed, either by spirit or by word or by letter, as though from us, to the effect that the day of the Lord is already here. Let no one deceive you in any way; for that day will not come unless the rebellion comes first and the lawless one is revealed, the one destined for destruction."
Study questions:
(1) What does the author mean by "the coming of our Lord"?
(2) Why would the audience be alarmed or distressed?
(3) What would the assumptions be if the day of the Lord had already arrived? How would the world change?
(4) Who is "the lawless one" in this passage? Has he been revealed?
(5) The author mentions "by letter, as though from us". Were people spreading forgeries or misinformation in the name of Paul? How could the audience know what was genuine?
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battleforbabygirl · 9 months
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{the wicked art by @cinnamonsly !}
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the-stoic-goat · 2 years
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nami-stuff · 1 year
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She's battling things her smile would never let you know.
@thewickedrpg
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marlowe1-blog · 9 months
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Job Chapter 15
Oh fuck. Eliphaz the Temanite is Speaking Again
When last we heard from Eliphaz the Temanite, he was telling a man who had just lost everything all the toxic positivity cliches that you see on Facebook from your stupid friends. In this chapter, he sounds almost Christian.
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No that's not a compliment. Christianity is a death cult that has been pushing its awful shit on the world for years. Whenever I see one of those polite homophobic statements like "I just don't approve of their lifestyle" or "I wish they weren't always pushing it down our throats" I agree and then add "We are talking about Christians, right?"
Eliphaz the Temanite begins this chapter by insulting Job. That seems to be the major theme of this book. Job says something that his friends don't like and his friends shoot back by calling him a wordy sinful jerk. So Eliphaz gives us that shit. Your own mouth condemns you - not I. Your lips testify against you.
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In other words, everything Job says gets the tl;dr response. And then we get to the no man is without sin talk. Simply put, you must have done something to deserve this Job. (this is the one place where rabbis and Christians sound a lot alike. Only the rabbis are trying to say that Job did something wrong and Eliphaz is saying that EVERYONE is doing something wrong.)
Of course, this is still a Jewish book and the Jewish belief in sin and repentance still is "apologize and move on with your life" and not the abusive father viewpoint that Christianity pushes (if you want Dad to forgive you for not washing the dishes, then watch Dad kill his favorite), so even as Eliphaz has his say, he's still wrong. Just like those Cersei chapters in A Feast of Crows are not meant to be the author viewpoint.
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And then we get the wicked man writhes in torment speech. That's pretty much where Eliphaz is going. The wicked man is always going to be vulnerable to robbers and retribution. The wicked man is basically Tony Soprano giving his last look in the last Sopranos episode. He is not going to build anything that will last. Nothing will last of him. He's just a shitty dude and that's that.
Even better he will wither before time and he never get away from himself. And I get it. That is comforting. I think of the evil motherfuckers who have died screaming. I think of Hitler shooting himself knowing that he lost and I think of Rush Limbaugh dying of cancer. I think of Trump just screaming into the void as his jail cell looms larger and I think about the billionaires who went smush in the submersible. Oh these are nice thoughts.
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But what about the damage? What about the AIDS victims that Reagan let die? What about the victims of Hitler? What about the people who died under Trump? What about the workers who died because Andrew Carnegie didn't want people striking? And that sonofabitch still gets celebrated and there are still videos coming out from Prager U (a school even worse than University of Phoenix) praising that cunt.
How long before the wicked actually perish? Eliphaz is not as much of an asshole with his cute little aphorisms but at least he gives a nice little fantasy.
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lets-chandrix · 10 months
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El interés lo tienes abocado a una sola cosa, Emmanuel. En esa mesa que no sabes si tira de ti hacia el suelo o si eres tú que el que la empuja hacia el suelo. Lo que es ineludible es la inclinación ofrecida por la mesa, una que resulta más artificial que real. El ángulo de noventa grados con el pie se ha convertido en uno de veinte que resulta complicado, por no decir imposible, de solventar. Tus dedos se ven obligados a relajarse, alejándose del plástico y acercándose a éste al segundo siguiente. Aunque lo intentas, aquellas montañas resultantes del tirón de tus falanges son inaplanables. Ahí siguen, ligeramente hundidas. Parcialmente arregladas o eso es lo que tú te dices, como si no vieras el desastre que has dejado y que sigues dejando. Y, para colmo de males, parece que no te has dado cuenta que tanto los guantes como la bufanda de la chica han terminado en el suelo. Deberías recogerlos. Eso sería un ademán de mayor caridad que devolver la perfección a un elemento inanimado. El plástico cruje bajo tus dedos, se aleja la superfície circular de la mesa del suelo, la curva que ejecuta el soporte acaba midiendo un ángulo superior a los noventa grados. Deben de ser por lo menos ciento ocho y yo no puedo abandonar la idea de que has convertido una mesa funcional de plástico en una representación de un hongo que uno encuentra tranquilamente por el bosque. ¿Puedes dejarlo de mirar? ¿Puedes dejarlo estar? No lo toques más, suficientes meteduras de pata has realizado en esos precarios segundos  malgastados. ¿La mesa se mantiene en pie? Pues es lo único que necesitas saber, Emmanuel. Vete de una vez. Deja a la chica en paz y huye de la música, de las respiraciones, del llamado de sirena con el que vociferan tu nombre los corazones que te rodean. Tus pies son los primeros en moverse, en iniciar la zancada para alejarte del llamado singular y floral de la habitante de la mesa; para marchar hacia el exterior del local y, una vez allí, decidir qué es mejor que, desde hoy, no frecuentes locales atestados de futuras presas que te hacen la boca agua. Pero tu cuerpo no les sigue. La orden de las comandas ha sido alterada y no tiene nada que ver con el olor familiar de la chica. Sino que es la mano que ha posado sobre la tuya, apretándote con reclamo, la que activa tu instinto de defensa. Tu diestra se sacude y golpea a la mano tendida con la misma efectividad de un látigo. —No me toques. —Sueltas le exigencia, acelerado, dándole una entonación de prisa, de nervio, de ansiedad que no desaparece, que no oculta tu mirada. Suficientes víctimas. Suficientes desastres en una noche. Suficiente contacto. Das un paso hacia atrás, tambaleándote. Es momento de irse, Emmanuel. Pero la conversación no termina ahí. Porque ella conoce tu nombre y te llama por él, pronunciándolo entre tartamudeos varios. El estómago se te revuelve al igual que cuando ingieres comida. En esos impulsos irracionales que nacen del deseo de volver al concepto humano, de recuperar una vida que puede terminarse de un momento al otro. Como si pudieras huir de ese estado vampírico con solo desearlo, Emmanuel. Como si existiese esa vía de escape. Esa esperanza es fácil de romperse cuando la realidad golpea. Entonces te arqueas y deglutes el alimento que tu cuerpo no tiene permitido asimilar. Porque no eres humano, Emmanuel. La magia te ha rechazado y no escucha tu llamado. Los nervios fluyen sobre tus miembros al igual que lo hace la tensión que crepita alterada y miedosa. Cada segundo de duda es un segundo más en el que te pones a prueba, es un segundo más que agotas, es un segundo más en el que te mueres de hambre, es un segundo más en el que anhelas la cercanía, es un segundo más en el que predispones a tus mandíbulas a prepararse para el siguiente mordisco. A la pregunta se escapa un ronroneo de tus labios en lo que entrecierras los ojos con el deleite propio de un drogadicto. Es el cúmulo de fragancias, de voces, de roces, de estímulos el que te hace particularmente sensible a cada insinuación, beso o susurro que algunos llevan a término en la pista de baile. Tu lengua sale, humedeciendo a tus labios, predisponiéndote y aspirando con necesidad, con urgencia. El brillo de tus orbes se altera, enrojeciéndose. ¿Estás bien, Emmanuel? Depende de la perspectiva de cada quién. Para unos estás en la gloria, para otros vives un tormento sujeto por ese factor del tiempo. Lo que es innegable es que enfocas tu atención en la chica, la suerte de gruñido asciende por tu garganta y le enseñas los dientes. Huele bien. Huele a casa. —Vete —alcanzas a decir. Un ruego insignificante porque sabes que ya es tarde. Que ya no hay escapatoria. Es tu cuerpo el que se mueve contra tu voluntad, tu cuerpo el que se cierne sobre la chica. La chica que se convierte en presa. Una presa que urge ser mordida.   Porque tienes hambre, Emmanuel. Y ella acaba de convertirse en otra víctima más. 
—Emmanuel D. Doe
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jorgevinato · 1 year
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My ride... My life... My passion... Keeps me alive.
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evilsatisfaction · 2 years
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selenevassos · 11 days
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john wick holding shadow the hedgehog like mary holding baby jesus
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azural83 · 1 year
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This is bluephobia at it's finest WHERE IS THE BUBBLE DRESS
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quotesfromscripture · 2 years
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Why do the wicked prosper?
“You are always righteous, LORD,  when I bring a case before you.  Yet I would speak with you about your justice: 
Why does the way of the wicked prosper?  Why do all the faithless live at ease?  You have planted them, and they have taken root;  they grow and bear fruit.  You are always on their lips  but far from their hearts.” 
- Jeremiah 12:1-2 NIV (2011)
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art-of-mathematics · 3 months
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animentality · 1 year
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scripture-pictures · 2 months
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nami-stuff · 1 year
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@thewickedrpg
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