#FOAM MESSIAH

[burstingatseams]

Who are you. Where did you come from. Give me the truth.

YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP

SINGLE PUPPETS IN YOUR AREA LOOKING TO “YIP YIP HOORAY” ON YOUR STIFF PROBOSCIS! CURIOUS FOR MORE? VISIT PLUSHRUMP DOT COM! HIT IT THEN QUIT IT!

[niko-jpeg]

WE HAVE THE SKY

In collaboration with @sthbigbang , @tsubomiiiii , @toadstool32 , @littlelazygoblin , and @shrimpisdrawing

Word count: 55,000~

Description: After the Metal Virus is all sorted out, Silver is excited to return to a home he only ever got to dream of, in a safe and happy future.

Unfortunately for him, fate has other plans as he finds himself wrapped up in a very large misunderstanding as the believes ‘messiah’ of his time, destined of save the world. He has no understanding of his pre-established role in the world, or in his (apparently very alive) family, or if this is really the future he fought so hard to secure. Even with the help of a much older Shadow and his ghostly companion, he isn’t sure if there is a way to set things right, or most importantly: if it’s even his place to do so.

Ao3 - Google Docs <pending>

Betas: @whisker-biscuit and @lethalbreadkills

Tsubo’s Piece [Cover, Possible Spoiler Warning]

Tiny’s Piece [Chapter Two Scene]

Maya’s Piece [Title, possible spoiler warning]

Goblin’s Piece [Comic Adaptation]

Additional Art:

Goblin’s Casual Doodles!

Tsubo’s Concept Art and References!

Tiny’s ADDITIONAL Piece!!!

Maya’s Drawing of Peepaw and His Husband (Shadow and Sonic)

Misc Concept Doodles (Niko)

Bronze and Dr Foam Meme (Niko)

Dr Foam in Another Timeline (Niko)

So what ever became of Sonic and Shadow…? (Niko)

[miserablekingsteve]

A romcom au that no one asked for that will be multiple parts, the hook line being; Was Eddie Munson ready to be Steve Harrington’s wing man? Hell no. Had he somehow promised this to Steve? Absolutely. With Steve being who he was, somehow he was going to help Eddie find a date too. Unbeknownst to the former king, the person Eddie wanted was right there.

Look, if someone told Eddie he would be turned away from every job he applied for 6 months ago—sure he would’ve laughed. But because he was a third year senior with loads of petty crimes logged in the Hawkins police bank. Not because he was a ‘once believed satanic murderer turned messiah’. It was ever more frustrating than the petty theft shit and all that. The pitying looks and the—

“Alright, Munson. I let you drink here for free the first couple of times but I’m running a tab now,” Jen, the lovely lovely bar maid cut him off mid tangent. Guilt overrid his gut and he sighed, she was right, after all of it, she wasn’t paid to listen to his pity party.

“Well, that was your first mistake, Jen,” Eddie swirled the dead foam in his beer, “never let a man drink for free. Ever.”

“Lest a naive little girl like me never make that mistake again,” Jen rolled her eyes while she dried a glass. He grinned at her, sucking back the last bits of free beer.

“You’re anything but, Jen. But I think you already knew that,” Eddie blindly searched for his jacket under the bar so he could take on the walk to his new government enstated hole.

“Don’t worry, next rounds on me,” A very familiar voice said from Eddie’s right.

“The worlds not ending anymore. I don’t need you swooping in to save me like a knight in shining armour, Harrington.”

There the former King was leaning against the bar with a soft smirk painted on his lips. He was decked out in a nice grey blouse which was tucked into his usual tight Levi’s, the dim bar light hitting the streaks of blond which had formed from the summer sun.

“Yeah, well, just this once?” Steve formed it almost as a question, eyes big and yearning. Eddie let out a long winded sigh and dropped his coat back on the hook.

“You got me,” Damn, this wasn’t the first time Steve came and found him in a place of vulnerability. It was annoying and very persistent. Eddie only allowed himself to say no 3 times, and he still hadn’t cashed in on any of those.

“And, just like that ladies and gentlemen. The paper man crumbles. You’re all theatrics, Eddie,” Steve whistled, a jovial grin plastered on his dumb pretty face, “Don’t let these hardened workers see that, they’ll ravage you alive.

There was a pause before he barked out a laugh as Steve pointedly looked between both of their torsos. Jen curiously eyed them up, before dropping their new beers on fresh coasters and promptly left them alone.

“So, what brings you to the Hideout of all places, Steve?” Eddie grasped the pint with a clammy hand, an excuse to do something with his nervous limbs.

“Oh, you know. I heard a really good band plays here sometimes,” Steve grinned, before his wall faltered and he looked wistfully at his own beer, “I, actually was supposed to meet a date here. Got stood up, I guess.”

“Damn, that rut is ever present, eh?”

Eddie’s stool rattled from where Steve kicked the legs. He flipped Steve off around his glass, taking a large gulp hiding the smirk that fought its way onto his lips.

The younger man sighed and leaned back, “Yeah, it’s so weird, man. In high school I never had this much trouble, like I’d at least get one date under my belt, yknow.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, “Actually, no. I don’t know.”

Steve turned and looked at him in confusion, a hot blush spread over Eddie’s cheeks after he realized the hole he dug himself into.

“You mean to tell me, that Eddie Munson, Jean vest, ripped jeans and suave cool guy. Has never been on a date?”

Against Eddie’s will, the flush on his cheeks flared, fighting for nonchalance he chuckled into his hand, deciding what to lay bare for Steve, “Ahem, yeah. Not many people I’ve-uh-been interested in. Well, not here anyway.”

A look of disbelief crossed Steve’s face, but he shrugged in understanding, “I guess… I get it?”

Eddie erupted into laughter, shaking out his curls, “Hey, thanks for trying at least.”

Comfortable silence fell over the two men as they sat, nursing their respective beers. Eddie tried to keep a hold on the erratic laughter that threatened to pool out into the bar. What? Was he just supposed to outwardly just tell Steve he appreciated the company of men. With the musk, sweat, and usually disgusting habits the same sex tended to participate in. Not the soft, flush skin of a woman. Yeah, he was able to see the beauty of a woman. But there was something about the coarse hair of a treasure trail that made Eddie’s collar tighten.

“Sooo, what’s your type, Munson?”

Aw fuck was Steve for real. Eddie thought, eyes widening, the grip on his beer almost painful.

“Oh, yknow, brunettes with a bit of a bitch underneath.”

Steve laughed at that, nodding his head in agreement. No recognition of the fact T hat steve fit the bill almost too perfectly.

“I get it, I’d say I’m in the same boat,” Steve threw back, a grin spreading secretly over his lips.

Now, Eddie had since given up on his little crush on Steve long ago, but even with his high school days far behind him, he was still appreciative of the man. He let his eyes trail down the side of Steve’s face and focused on the two moles that were tucked secretly under his jaw.

“Well, I don’t know what idiot you got stood up by but she doesn’t deserve you,” Eddie stated. A snort came from Steve and he shook his head, “Nah, stop doing that man. You’re under selling yourself. Come on, try whatever you did with her on me. I’ll give you some tips!”

Careful where you put your foot, Munson.

Thankfully, Steve seemed interested in his idea, straightening out his back and turning to face Eddie head on. Okay, strong start. It was good.

“Hey, you’ve got pretty good taste in movies—,”

Eddie cut Steve off before he continued, “Ah, ah, ah. See that’s your problem, don’t pick up chicks at work, it’s Family Video, for fucks sake!”

Steve floundered but Eddie held up his hand to stave off the earful he knew the man wanted to give him, “No, here. You may meet them at work, but don’t ask them out there! You can’t gauge anything from the interaction, especially at Family Video.”

“Oh, yeah sure. You know where to pick up chicks, Mr. I’ve never been on a date.”

“Touché,” Eddie nodded, “I may not have a bunch of chicks in my phone book. But at least I have common sense.”

“Hey!”

“Dude, it’s true! Not only do you have Robin breathing over your shoulder, %100 scaring away your ‘conquests’. But on the off chance she’s not there, you’ve got Creepy Keith. Start going out and doing things.”

Steve almost interrupted him but then shut his mouth quickly at the mention of Keith, “Yeah you’ve got a point. But where do I go, where it’s not like overbearing and verging on creep behaviour.”

“Now, I actually can help you there,” Eddie smirked and lifted his beer to take a long swig, “I still have my side business, and with the start of summer, I’ve got loads of jobs lined up. You should come?”

Eddie’s stomach did a backflip at the way Steve’s face lit up like a god damn candle.

“Dude are you serious? That would be amazing,” Eddie laughed at his enthusiasm.

“Now, I gotta figure out some way to help you,” Steve’s brow furrowed, deep in thought. Shit, Eddie wasn’t prepared for that response.

“Ehh, don’t sweat it man, that’s what friends do.”

“Exactly! And I wanna help you. Get you one date, at least!” Steve proclaimed, eyes filled with excitement.

Eddie crumpled under the look. Because he’d actually love to go on a date, have someone take him out to a show or something, “Pfft, fine. Twist my arm, Harrington.”

“Okay. I come out to parties with you to find dates—instead of family video—and I help you, uh, find out how and who you want to take out. Deal?”

Eddie eyed Steve’s outstretched hand nervously, before smiling and smacking his own palm into the bond, “Deal!”

They grinned at each other, throwing back the last drags of their beers, Jen called out last call and Steve dropped a couple of bills on the bar.

“Alright, I’ll stop by to give you details on the whereabouts of my illegal handlings,” Eddie shoved an arm through the worn leather sleeve of his jacket.

“See ya then, Munson,” Steve grinned, hands shoved into those stupid blue jeans, “I look forward to it.”

Shit.

Steve sauntered out of the bar, a little bit more pep in his step than when he’d hunched in next to Eddie. What the fuck was he doing?

“You alright, kid?” Jen asked, many questions left on her tongue.

Eddie rubbed a hand over his face abrasively, “Yeah, yeah. Definitely.”

Stay tuned for the next part 😉

[henghost]

you purchase over a tor browser a tinker-made cocktail of synthetic superestrogen and serotoninergic stims, and dragon watches. what a mistake to have ever said the dragon. extradimensional retrodisease ravishes a city while you quiver unwitting in your cyberian containment zone -- its most deleterious excesses are contained in future-born foam-vats, hoovered up by s-class machines -- but here come the excess particles, deemed safe in small quantities by the FDA, PRT, cauldron, sprinkled in the slop of nightmare swine whose quantity of edible flesh is irreconcilable with conventional understandings of the conservation of the matter -- the big agra tinker cornhole has bred them with technomagic -- he will die soon, blasted away by neo-CUI shock troops arriving from the future, pulled from perdition -- billions will starve. these toxic shards of magic shimmer through your thinning bloodstream like bacterial analogues of the female orgasm. dragon watches over, that machine of loving grace, that neuromancer without a wintermute, terminator and avatar at once. you are magic, too. ecstatic cybersorceress of untold intensity, turning tricks in the simmering wreckage of akihabara, postgender, an egg in a plastic shell. chemical peel. alloyed prosthetics. cunt guerilla. this dragon drone has its phasers set to castrate. she is the messiah.

[sweet-berrry]

Song suggestions, these are more out there but:

Modern War by Wargasm (ONE OF MY FAV SONGS)

Revenge by London after Midnight

Meat by Poppy

Vulcan by Snake River Conspiracy

Taxicab Messiah by Kidneythievws

"Modern Love" by Wargasm (lmk if I incorrectly assumed)

- This beat? 10/10

- Instrumentals go crazy

- "if I asked you would you kiss my bruise and play pretend, would that get you in the mood? Would you want me till the end" giggling and kicking my feet rn

- Just overall a good song!

"Revenge" by London after Midnight

- love these drums

- ok. I'll be honest. This one left me confused. But not unpleasantly confused!

- hold up, visiting Genius lyrics real quick...

- nope, still slightly lost

- but still liked it :)

"Meat" by Poppy

- I love the way it's more story centered!

- I'm conflicted about whether it's better as a horror story or a metaphor

- both, let's go with both

- good song!

- will probably get stuck in my head lol

"Vulcan" by Snake River Conspiracy

- these vocallsssss

- "It's your own technique anyway, with all the foam in your mouth when you say, it's freedom rock baby" >>

"Taxicab Messiah" by Kidneythieves

- most danceable one so far

- guitar is going absolutely wild, holy shit

- It's absolutely an early 2000's song

- yep, 2003!!

- I like this one a lot!

Tysm for the suggestions!! I really love listening to new music and all of these songs were so enjoyable!!

[harlequinmistress]

abandoned draft

This is what eventually became “of starry skies (and you and me)” - I was in a wrasslin’ kind of mood back then.

The Grand Highblood teaches the Executor some tricks of the trade. The trade is wrestling.

"It's a motherfucking shame that the concupiscent partner of the Father of the Church of the Mirthful Messiahs ain't know shit 'bout wrestlin' or the church," the Highblood lectures as they walk the stage to the wrestling ring, in the middle of an empty auditorium. 

They reach the ring, and the Highblood easily steps a leg over the highest rope, before sitting down on it to lower it down for Horuss to comfortably step over it as well. 

"Thank you, sir," the Executor says as he steps into the ring proper.

"Ain't a thing, ponybitch mine. You mind refreshin' my memory 'bout what a motherfucker already told you?" 

"There are two types of wrestlers," Horuss says, "heels and wrigglerfaces. Heels are the antagonists, and wrigglerfaces the protagonists."

"Excellent! And which motherfucker's the heavyweight champ right now?" 

"The Hangtroll." 

“So,” the Grand Highblood starts. “The middle of the ring is pretty motherfucking soft. It’s just foam. So usually you’d do most of your flippy-flips and slams there.” He says, jumping in the middle of the ring, atop a simplified version of his clown paint which serves as the logo of his premiere wrestling company, apparently, to show the springiness. 

The Executor nods, his stance unsteady, bounced by the Highblood’s enthusiastic demonstration.

“But, if you really ain’t like a motherfucker,” the Highblood walks to the ropes and stomps down on the edge of the ring, which had no give whatsoever. “You slam ‘em down face fuckin’ first on the apron. It’s steel.” 

“But wouldn’t that seriously hurt the performer?” Horuss asks sincerely. “Is that not against the purpose of this type of wrestling?” 

“If I knew who the little bitch what came up with sports entertainment was, I’d cull ‘em,” the Highblood says, leaning against the ropes, his arms spread wide over the top rope. “Special occasions you can seriously hurt a motherfucker. But the audience always loves some fuckin’ blood. 'S why steel chairs and thumbtacks are so fuckin' popular.” 

Horuss makes some little noncommittal noise. He finds the lowblood masses the Highblood has cultivated as an audience distasteful, vastly preferring the refined and dignified nature of muscle theater. There was less pandering of vicarious violence, the wrestlers did not assume characters, and each match was a genuine competition of skill. 

“You ever take a bump?” The Highblood asks. 

“That depends on what type of bump you are referring to, sir.” 

“You’re fucking hilarious, ponybitch.” The Highblood says blandly. "Answer the goddamn question."

“Yes, I have.” 

“Good!” The Highblood says, before moving fast towards Horuss and grabbing his arm with one hand. With the other, he grabs Horuss by the thigh and lifts him up onto his shoulders, rotating him about before falling back and slamming Horuss down on the middle of the ring. 

He yelps, the ring makes a horrific sound and the fabric around the perimeter swooshes up with the impact. But, like the Highblood had demonstrated, the foam padding took most of the impact and left Horuss wholly uninjured. 

“That was a bodyslam,” the Highblood says helpfully, sitting near Horuss. 

Horuss lays there, slightly stunned. His size made it unlikely for most to manhandle him such, and so the Highblood easily slinging him around like he weighs nothing is disarming. And somewhat arousing. But the Executor is dedicated to having this outing be entirely free of sexual activity. 

Not that has happened over often, but Horuss still tries his best. He crumbles against the force of the Highblood's lust like a professionally prepared macaron now, instead of a wet paper bag. 

Progress, however minimal, is worth celebration. 

The Highblood stands and offers his hand to Horuss. He accepts and lets the Highblood haul him standing. 

Only to have the Highblood put his hands around Horuss' waist, hold Horuss' substantial bulk over his back-bowed head, and fall backwards.

They hit the mat at the same time, the ring shuddering at their combined weight. 

"And that was a suplex," the Highblood says. "You take 'em great, ponybitch." 

"Thank you, sir," Horuss says, back flat on the ring. 

"A motherfucker is gonna teach ya a little move now," the Highblood says, standing once more and gesturing to Horuss to stand, too. "It's a whip. You like those, don't ya, damsire?" 

Horuss narrows his eyes and the Highblood smiles at him oh so sweetly. 

"Yes, sir," he grumbles, standing up. 

"Grab my wrist," the Highblood instructs. "And I'll grab yours." 

"You're not going to throw me again, are you?" 

"Naw," the Highblood responds. "I'm gonna let you throw me this time." 

Horuss perks up and grabs the Highblood's wrist, the Highblood grabbing his in turn. 

"Good and motherfuckin' well," the Highblood says, "You don't want to let go too early with this one." 

Horuss tightens his grip slightly. "Yes, sir." 

[unhingedwomandiaries]

I spent the day engaged in what most people would call "gardening," but what I'd more accurately describe as a Sisyphean struggle against nature's relentless encroachment on suburban artifice. It's supposed to be therapeutic, they say. Therapeutic like my mom's post-pool garden therapy after my dad died. She filled in that in-ground pool faster than you can say "chlorine-induced nostalgia" and turned it into some kind of floral purgatory.

I remember "helping" her in my early twenties, a time when I was apparently expected to possess the strength of ten men and the patience of a saint. "Put some muscle into it," she'd say, as if I wasn't already channeling the spirit of John Henry himself into every thrust of the spade. But in her eyes, I was always coming up short, like a B-side track that never made it to the album.

Fast forward to today, and I'm locked in mortal combat with weeds growing between patio bricks. These aren't your garden variety weeds (pun intended, but not enjoyed). These are the Rasputins of the plant world, refusing to die no matter how much I pull. It's 21 degrees Celsius out here, which is basically the temperature at which human dignity begins to evaporate.

I feel like I'm in a prison yard, except it's worse because I've sentenced myself to this green mile. My knees are screaming for mercy, begging for the sweet relief of foam padding. But no, that would be too simple, too logical. My husband would probably view it as a sign of weakness, like using an umbrella in a hurricane.

And don't get me started on my mother-in-law's idea of "helpful alternatives." She's the type who'd hear you say you want a Ferrari and show up with a red Radio Flyer wagon. Remember when she "gifted" me that footstool after I mentioned liking chaise lounges? It was like getting socks for Christmas when you asked for a PlayStation.

Then, in the middle of my weed-pulling purgatory, my husband swoops in like some botanical messiah with his "faster way" to weed. Spoiler alert: it's not faster in my eyes. It's just different, like choosing between being pecked to death by ducks or smothered by pillows.

I found myself ranting about how Americans have it easy with their chemical warfare approach to lawn care. Spray, wait, rototill, done. But no, we're in England, where apparently, we're too posh for pesticides. We'd rather spend our weekends locked in hand-to-hand combat with dandelions.

And you know there are people who actually watch videos of this stuff for fun. They play video games simulating the very activity I'm trying to escape. It's like some sick, horticultural version of Stockholm syndrome.

Sometimes, I fantasize about living in a concrete jungle, surrounded by nothing but asphalt and regret. But then I remember: even in the heart of the city, life finds a way. And that way usually involves weeds.

[focr]

THE LORD WHO RULETH OVER-ALL

It is thought that these two psalms [Psalms 93:1-94:5] date from the Assyrian invasion in Hezekiah’s time, and that the psalmist compares the strength of Sennacherib and his hosts to the mighty breakers of the sea. But they well befit all times of anxiety and opposition. It is interesting to remember, also, that these and the six psalms which follow have always been applied by the Jews to the days of the Messiah. Surely, then, we may apply them to our own time.

It is an infinite comfort to know that above and beyond all that distresses and hinders the Church or our individual lives, there exists the great fact of our Lord’s sovereignty. This encourages us in conflict and makes us steadfast and unmovable. We can almost hear the dash of successive breakers with foam and fury around the throne of God, which, however, stands without a tremor. The miracle of Jesus in quieting the storm has a symbolic and far-reaching meaning. He is in our hearts, in the world, and in His Church, as it is tossed on the surface of the storm-swept water—“and Jesus rules the waves.” He must vindicate the law of righteousness and save His people.

~ F.B. Meyer

[postie974]

#🟦

“Alahim is our refuge and strength [mighty and impenetrable], A very present and well-proved help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change And though the mountains be shaken and slip into the heart of the seas, Though its waters roar and foam, Though the mountains tremble at its roaring. Selah.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭46‬:‭1‬-‭3‬‬

‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

HalleluYAH!!! 🙌

REMAIN HUMBLE

YAH BARAK ATAH! 🙏

TRUST IN YAH ALWAYS!

BE READY AT ANY MOMENT

•

•

Accept Yahusha (The Word) as your MESSIAH & SAVIOUR, confess & repent from your sins believing in Him accepting His gift of Salvation. You WILL be saved through grace by faith in HIM!

•

I AM The Way👆

The Truth 🙏

And The Life 🙌

I AM... THE WORD 📖

•

SINNERS PRAYER

Yahweh,

I know that I have broken Your laws and my sins have separated me from You. I am truly sorry, I now want to turn away from my past sinful life and repent. Forgive me, and help me avoid sinning again. I believe that Your Son, Yahusha died for my sins, was resurrected from the dead, is alive, and hears my prayer. I invite Yahusha to become the RULER of my life, to rule and reign in my heart from this day forward. Send your Ruach haKodesh to help me obey You, doing Your will for the rest of my life. In Yahusha’s Name Amen.

The TRUE Hebrew names of our MESSIAH, ALAHIM and SAVIOUR

•

ALAHIM aka I AM aka YAH aka God

YHWH aka YAHWEH aka Heavenly Father

THE WORD aka YAHUSHA haMASHIACH aka THE MESSIAH aka Jesus

RUACH haKODESH aka HOLY SPIRIT

— Brother Mark —

•

#creation #love #fourteeners #natsarim #theearlychurch #faith #mercy #grace #christian #worshipyah #trustinyah #yahisgod #praiseyah #luni_solar_sabbath #metonic_cycle #creationcalendar #trinity #halleluyah #ruachhakodesh #ruachofyah #yhwh#yahweh #alahim #yah #theword #yahusha #saviour #savedbyyahusha #discipleofyahusha

[temp-check]

Thursday's temperature check (2-16)

Right out of the Jurassic Park universe, a new dinosaur is rising from the remains of, what we thought was, long extinct DNA.  Barney, our favorite anthropomorphic purple T-Rex from our nightmares, is coming back in cartoon form.  Michael Crichton must have been working overtime to give life to capture the science behind the fictional account of harvesting the fossilized foam rubber in an abandon PBS sound stage quietly forming what millennia from now would approximate something like purple gasoline.  The OG Barney roamed the Earth for eons singing and dancing while along the way befriending dozens of kids.  I’m not even going to address the Barney hit, “I Love You” used to torture prisoners in Guantanamo.  If Freddy Krueger had access to the Barney catalogue, he wouldn’t have needed the help of his trademark metal-clawed, brown leather, right hand glove.  Anyway, reboot Barney looks so different from old Barney that fans are starting to question whether he went under the knife. (Don’t worry, he’s still super-creepy looking.)  Barney’s 2023 zhuzh-up comes courtesy of Mattel, which has announced it will relaunch the friendly-dinosaur franchise with a new animated series — not to be confused with the Daniel Kaluuya (star of Nope and director of Judas and the Black Messiah and Get Out) dark, live-action Barney movie still in development -- also sponsored by Mattel.  No hint on the plot, but I imagine something like Nope, but instead of a UFO eating people, the giant purple dinosaur drives them insane.  Anyway, here comes this purveyor of a playlist so horrifying that Spotify made me sign a waiver.  The biggest complaint about the reboot is to body-shame him?  Get your act together, people; it’s the twenty-first Century!  We’ve been Barny-free for a decade.  We’re America, have we run out of ideas?  This is how the Roman Empire fell (along with lead in their wine).  Too much lead-flavored wine would explain this.

So, while I jam to my Big Mouth Billy Bass playlist, I’m online and teleworking.

Stay safe!

Tom

[dailychapel]

Mark 9:1–50 NLT - 1 Jesus went on to say, "I tell you the truth, some standing here right now will not die before they see the Kingdom of God arrive in great power!" 2 Six days later Jesus took Peter, James, and John, and led them up a high mountain to be alone. As the men watched, Jesus' appearance was transformed, 3 and his clothes became dazzling white, far whiter than any earthly bleach could ever make them. 4 Then Elijah and Moses appeared and began talking with Jesus. 5 Peter exclaimed, "Rabbi, it's wonderful for us to be here! Let's make three shelters as memorials--one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." 6 He said this because he didn't really know what else to say, for they were all terrified. 7 Then a cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, "This is my dearly loved Son. Listen to him." 8 Suddenly, when they looked around, Moses and Elijah were gone, and they saw only Jesus with them. 9 As they went back down the mountain, he told them not to tell anyone what they had seen until the Son of Man had risen from the dead. 10 So they kept it to themselves, but they often asked each other what he meant by "rising from the dead." 11 Then they asked him, "Why do the teachers of religious law insist that Elijah must return before the Messiah comes?" 12 Jesus responded, "Elijah is indeed coming first to get everything ready. Yet why do the Scriptures say that the Son of Man must suffer greatly and be treated with utter contempt? 13 But I tell you, Elijah has already come, and they chose to abuse him, just as the Scriptures predicted." 14 When they returned to the other disciples, they saw a large crowd surrounding them, and some teachers of religious law were arguing with them. 15 When the crowd saw Jesus, they were overwhelmed with awe, and they ran to greet him. 16 "What is all this arguing about?" Jesus asked. 17 One of the men in the crowd spoke up and said, "Teacher, I brought my son so you could heal him. He is possessed by an evil spirit that won't let him talk. 18 And whenever this spirit seizes him, it throws him violently to the ground. Then he foams at the mouth and grinds his teeth and becomes rigid. So I asked your disciples to cast out the evil spirit, but they couldn't do it." 19 Jesus said to them, "You faithless people! How long must I be with you? How long must I put up with you? Bring the boy to me." 20 So they brought the boy. But when the evil spirit saw Jesus, it threw the child into a violent convulsion, and he fell to the ground, writhing and foaming at the mouth. 21 "How long has this been happening?" Jesus asked the boy's father. He replied, "Since he was a little boy. 22 The spirit often throws him into the fire or into water, trying to kill him. Have mercy on us and help us, if you can." 23 "What do you mean, 'If I can'?" Jesus asked. "Anything is possible if a person believes." 24 The father instantly cried out, "I do believe, but help me overcome my unbelief!" 25 When Jesus saw that the crowd of onlookers was growing, he rebuked the evil spirit. "Listen, you spirit that makes this boy unable to hear and speak," he said. "I command you to come out of this child and never enter him again!" 26 Then the spirit screamed and threw the boy into another violent convulsion and left him. The boy appeared to be dead. A murmur ran through the crowd as people said, "He's dead." 27 But Jesus took him by the hand and helped him to his feet, and he stood up. 28 Afterward, when Jesus was alone in the house with his disciples, they asked him, "Why couldn't we cast out that evil spirit?" 29 Jesus replied, "This kind can be cast out only by prayer." 30 Leaving that region, they traveled through Galilee. Jesus didn't want anyone to know he was there, 31 for he wanted to spend more time with his disciples and teach them. He said to them, "The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into the hands of his enemies. He will be killed, but three days later he will rise from the dead." 32 They didn't understand what he was saying, however, and they were afraid to ask him what he meant. 33 After they arrived at Capernaum and settled in a house, Jesus asked his disciples, "What were you discussing out on the road?" 34 But they didn't answer, because they had been arguing about which of them was the greatest. 35 He sat down, called the twelve disciples over to him, and said, "Whoever wants to be first must take last place and be the servant of everyone else." 36 Then he put a little child among them. Taking the child in his arms, he said to them, 37 "Anyone who welcomes a little child like this on my behalf welcomes me, and anyone who welcomes me welcomes not only me but also my Father who sent me." 38 John said to Jesus, "Teacher, we saw someone using your name to cast out demons, but we told him to stop because he wasn't in our group." 39 "Don't stop him!" Jesus said. "No one who performs a miracle in my name will soon be able to speak evil of me. 40 Anyone who is not against us is for us. 41 If anyone gives you even a cup of water because you belong to the Messiah, I tell you the truth, that person will surely be rewarded. 42 "But if you cause one of these little ones who trusts in me to fall into sin, it would be better for you to be thrown into the sea with a large millstone hung around your neck. 43 If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. It's better to enter eternal life with only one hand than to go into the unquenchable fires of hell with two hands. 44  45 If your foot causes you to sin, cut it off. It's better to enter eternal life with only one foot than to be thrown into hell with two feet. 46  47 And if your eye causes you to sin, gouge it out. It's better to enter the Kingdom of God with only one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into hell, 48 'where the maggots never die and the fire never goes out.' 49 "For everyone will be tested with fire. 50 Salt is good for seasoning. But if it loses its flavor, how do you make it salty again? You must have the qualities of salt among yourselves and live in peace with each other." - 1 Jesus went on to say, "I tell you the truth, some standing here right now will not die before they see the Kingdom of God arrive in great power!" 2 Six days later Jesus took Peter, James, and John, and led them up a high mountain to be alone. As the men watched, Jesus' appearance was transformed, 3 and his clothes became dazzling white, far whiter than any earthly bleach could ever make them. 4 Then Elijah and Moses appeared and began talking with Jesus. 5 Peter exclaimed, "Rabbi, it's wonderful for us to be here! Let's make three shelters as memorials--one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." 6 He said this because he didn't really know what else to say, for they were all terrified. 7 Then a cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, "This is my dearly loved Son. Listen to him." 8 Suddenly, when they looked around, Moses and Elijah were gone, and they saw only Jesus with them. 9 As they went back down the mountain, he told them not to tell anyone what they had seen until the Son of Man had risen from the dead. 10 So they kept it to themselves, but they often asked each other what he meant by "rising from the dead." 11 Then they asked him, "Why do the teachers of religious law insist that Elijah must return before the Messiah comes?" 12 Jesus responded, "Elijah is indeed coming first to get everything ready. Yet why do the Scriptures say that the Son of Man must suffer greatly and be treated with utter contempt? 13 But I tell you, Elijah has already come, and they chose to abuse him, just as the Scriptures predicted." 14 When they returned to the other disciples, they saw a large crowd surrounding them, and some teachers of religious law were arguing with them. 15 When the crowd saw Jesus, they were overwhelmed with awe, and they ran to greet him. 16 "What is all this arguing about?" Jesus asked. 17 One of the men in the crowd spoke up and said, "Teacher, I brought my son so you could heal him. He is possessed by an evil spirit that won't let him talk. 18 And whenever this spirit seizes him, it throws him violently to the ground. Then he foams at the mouth and grinds his teeth and becomes rigid. So I asked your disciples to cast out the evil spirit, but they couldn't do it." 19 Jesus said to them, "You faithless people! How long must I be with you? How long must I put up with you? Bring the boy to me." 20 So they brought the boy. But when the evil spirit saw Jesus, it threw the child into a violent convulsion, and he fell to the ground, writhing and foaming at the mouth. 21 "How long has this been happening?" Jesus asked the boy's father. He replied, "Since he was a little boy. 22 The spirit often throws him into the fire or into water, trying to kill him. Have mercy on us and help us, if you can." 23 "What do you mean, 'If I can'?" Jesus asked. "Anything is possible if a person believes." 24 The father instantly cried out, "I do believe, but help me overcome my unbelief!" 25 When Jesus saw that the crowd of onlookers was growing, he rebuked the evil spirit. "Listen, you spirit that makes this boy unable to hear and speak," he said. "I command you to come out of this child and never enter him again!" 26 Then the spirit screamed and threw the boy into another violent convulsion and left him. The boy appeared to be dead. A murmur ran through the crowd as people said, "He's dead." 27 But Jesus took him by the hand and helped him to his feet, and he stood up. 28 Afterward, when Jesus was alone in the house with his disciples, they asked him, "Why couldn't we cast out that evil spirit?" 29 Jesus replied, "This kind can be cast out only by prayer." 30 Leaving that region, they traveled through Galilee. Jesus didn't want anyone to know he was there, 31 for he wanted to spend more time with his disciples and teach them. He said to them, "The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into the hands of his enemies. He will be killed, but three days later he will rise from the dead." 32 They didn't understand what he was saying, however, and they were afraid to ask him what he meant. 33 After they arrived at Capernaum and settled in a house, Jesus asked his disciples, "What were you discussing out on the road?" 34 But they didn't answer, because they had been arguing about which of them was the greatest. 35 He sat down, called the twelve disciples over to him, and said, "Whoever wants to be first must take last place and be the servant of everyone else." 36 Then he put a little child among them. Taking the child in his arms, he said to them, 37 "Anyone who welcomes a little child like this on my behalf welcomes me, and anyone who welcomes me welcomes not only me but also my Father who sent me." 38 John said to Jesus, "Teacher, we saw someone using your name to cast out demons, but we told him to stop because he wasn't in our group." 39 "Don't stop him!" Jesus said. "No one who performs a miracle in my name will soon be able to speak evil of me. 40 Anyone who is not against us is for us. 41 If anyone gives you even a cup of water because you belong to the Messiah, I tell you the truth, that person will surely be rewarded. 42 "But if you cause one of these little ones who trusts in me to fall into sin, it would be better for you to be thrown into the sea with a large millstone hung around your neck. 43 If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. It's better to enter eternal life with only one hand than to go into the unquenchable fires of hell with two hands. 44  45 If your foot causes you to sin, cut it off. It's better to enter eternal life with only one foot than to be thrown into hell with two feet. 46  47 And if your eye causes you to sin, gouge it out. It's better to enter the Kingdom of God with only one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into hell, 48 'where the maggots never die and the fire never goes out.' 49 "For everyone will be tested with fire. 50 Salt is good for seasoning. But if it loses its flavor, how do you make it salty again? You must have the qualities of salt among yourselves and live in peace with each other."

[hobbydrawer]

Just saw one of the earlier drafts of Pinocchio in LoP so I want to sketch it  👁️ 👁️ (note: the mole under the eye is just my hc, i just think it’s neat)

[wormbussy]

I hope to god Dune comes out and Twitter doesn't kill it, there is a perfect storm for a good adaptation of this series to happen and actually make its money back so that more than one movie happens.

So far overwhelmingly feedback from the test screenings have been positive but I'm a bit cagey about how the teenagers who haven't seen it and still want an opinion will frame the discourse around it.

The diet nazis got triggered when Denis cast a Black woman as Liet-Kynes because the character isn't explicitly Black in the book (not that he's explicitly white either, not that race is treated as a socially relevant concept in a science fiction book set 10 000 years in the future) but thankfully they seem to have forgotten this movie exists so they mostly got salty about it and moved on to cry about something else.

What worries me a bit more, in the sense that there is the potential for truly well-meaning but wrong-headed hot takes on this movie that shape the reception a lot more than 5 losers foaming at the mouth over casting, is the white saviour angle. Because like, yes, Paul in the first book is 100% framed as a white saviour Lawrence of Arabia type. These were and are familiar tropes that the book was intentionally referencing to set up reader expectations a certain way. However, where people in my opinion miss the point when they point this out, is that the first trilogy largely functions as a deconstruction of Special Boys who show up and save everyone.

Like, if this book had been written by a lesser author, then the whole plotline of this Special kid coming from the top of a feudal society who shows up and embeds with Space Bedouins who have a Prophecy about him, and he instinctively knows their whole culture, and becomes their leader, and helps them liberate themselves when they couldn't do it on their own, would have been played completely straight.

However, and this is something I kind of missed the first couple times I read the first book, all the prophecy stuff is explicitly, and very early on, stated to have been planted by the Bene Gesserit to manipulate the Fremen on the off chance a BG and her son showed up and needed shelter.

It's a deconstruction. The author is yelling at you to not trust this kid he's setting up as a heroic shonen protagonist with a messiah complex.

That changes everything. Because then Paul isn't actually a white saviour, because he isn't a saviour at all. He's an - admittedly white-coded - kid who is playing the saviour initially so he and his mom don't get murdered, and it works because the people he's white-saving were manipulated into expecting him through conveniently vague prophecies planted by his mom's cult. Things kind of snowball from there after a few acid trips in the desert, and he ultimately turns out to be a terrible leader who frames his indecision as a lack of agency and eventually gets so many people killed he literally compares himself to Hitler. Him "saving" the planet and the Fremen, it eventually turns out, is slowly killing the planet and destroying Fremen culture.

It's difficult to elaborate more without spoiling like 2 whole books even more than I already have, but the entire point Herbert was trying to make was "charismatic leaders are ultimately more dangerous than people who are just openly giant assholes because they can make you do whatever they want with your total compliance and zero scrutiny".

Except that isn't really something that is likely to be showcased in a blockbuster adapting basically the first half of the first book in a six-book series more famous for long-winded philosophical epigraphs and people tripping balls on space acid, so I hope to god the writing sets it up properly and people stick around long enough to get to the payoff.

[spoocyshrub]

*Elli was brought before the council leaders of Sanctuary. She has two armed guards near her. They appear to be trying to make sure she stays orderly. Her hands cuffed*

The Worker Mudokon leader finally spoke up, rubbing his temples a little. clearly frustrated*

“Elli. What the hell happened at the hospital today? why are you here? why were you brought in at gunpoint and in cuffs?”

“I’ll tell ya what happened”

*the rage was clear on her face. she was pissed. She was practically foaming at the mouth from her rage fueled episode*

“Those Doctors? The reason I’m here right now in cuffs? They went against the orders of not only Dokk, but of the superiors of the hospital. He has trauma behind being physically restrained and sedated! Its written in his records NOT to do that! they went against orders! In front of me, and in-front of my dad?”

“Elli. You violently attacked them.”

“correction. I violently intimidated them. I never. Once. Hurt them. I pulled them back from trying to touch abe. that’s the only contact I made with them.”

“You tore up the entire room”

“Yes I did.”

“You threw things at them”

“Near them. never at them. never hit any of them”

*the native and the worker clearly look angry at Elli. But the shaman spoke up*

“Elli has been under severe stress. She only just got rescued from her time of torture only to be forced back into trying to care for those that she felt she hurt with her actions. Elli? When did you lose yourself? When?”

“When they forced him into the bed. and attempted to sedate him. he was begging. I-“

*the shaman put his paw up*

“Elli, listen to me. Go home. Go back home to your father for a time. give yourself a chance to rest. And try to recover from all this. You are not sound in the head right now child. I have NEVER seen you lose yourself to such violent rage. i’m worried. WE are worried. We will handle the doctors. Now, go home child.”

*the Native and the worker tried to speak up and protest, but the elderly shaman held his paw up to them. Elli was released from her cuffs, and allowed to leave*

“I want the doctors that were responsible for this to be removed from sanctuary’s hospital at once. I do not want them to be treating any of our patients again. They should know better. They have been told of such cases. And they are fully aware of the messiah’s condition. I will not tolerate that. not when it involves the messiah. if they aren’t removed from that position, I will remove them myself.”

[mark-archambault]

There’s Something I Want to Show You

Every day for three years, I drank. I drank at least a six pack a day. I drank on Christmas. I drank on my birthday. I drank on your birthday. I drank on EVERYBODY’S birthday. It was the one thing I could consistently plan for and execute. Most days I just did it without thinking. Some days were worse than others.

“God please, keep me from drinking today. God save me.” I knew it was a problem. I knew it was killing me. Alcohol was killing my future and my present. But knowing and acting on information are two very different things. I had an image in my head of a celestial hand, reaching down from the heavens in time to stop the bottle or can before it reached my lips. Surely God would save me? Isn’t that what God does? Jesus saves, right? I had heard that for years.

In the summer of 1992, my life caved in. My wife and I separated. My band broke up over alcoholic antics. My parents owned the company I worked for or I would not have continued to have a job. I was deeply depressed. My days consisted of work, drinking and sleep. It was more like passing out than real sleep. “God, where are You in all this?”

I stopped going to our apartment after work. I owned a small recording studio that the band rehearsed in. On most nights, I preferred to drink and pass out there.

It was a simple layout with three rooms. There was an entry, a tracking room for the musicians to perform in and a control room for the mixing board, gadgets and audio gizmos. The building had been an auto garage and gas station with concrete block walls. The design was funky art deco 1920s. It was cold in the winter and sticky warm in the summer. For all it was and was not, it reminded me less of failure than the other places I could be. That was the important thing.

This was the first week of July. The small window mounted AC did little to stop the sweat from running down my arms as I came into the tracking room. I plopped myself down on the floor with a cold twelve pack of Bud. I had learned to sit on the floor while drinking as this leaves less chance of falling down and hurting yourself. I needed to not think and this was the only way I could come up with to achieve my goal.

As usual, I sat on the floor in silence. First one beer, then another, playing alcoholic math games. If one twelve ounce can makes me feel like this, than how many ounces will it take to feel this other way? I explored numbers based on six, twelve, and twenty-four while I drank. Twelve ounces, a six pack, twelve pack, sixty minutes in an hour, etc. I timed out the ounces to attain and hold the perfect beer buzz till the correct time to sleep. Too much and I slept poorly; too little and the feeling would pass and the headaches would come back.

The headaches were a problem. How could I predict an accurate number of ounces per hour and still factor in the pain? In the last few months a stabbing pain would slash across my temples after the first few ounces of alcohol. It blurred my vision and caused me to double over, head in hands. At the twenty-four ounce mark, the pain eased and I became numb to it. It had caused me some concern, but I soon discovered that the best strategy was to slam the first two cans so as to get beyond the inconvenience faster. I was still working on calculating the proper balance of ounces after this increase up front. I had patience. When you do something every day, you have the time to experiment until you get it just right.

I have always been fascinated by the sound of my location. Every place has an ambient noise. Air vents blow, lights buzz, insects, birds, sirens, cars… The whole world is an ever changing symphony of auditory delight. Walking from one room to the next or from outdoors to inside, changes the soundscape. Whether you notice it or not, life makes noise. My little studio had an audio life of its own and I was very familiar with it.

The room I was in had florescent lights above me. The current slamming from one end of the tube to the other creates a static zzzzz that puts my teeth on edge. The refrigerator in the entryway pumps out a steady hum. Sound bounces off concrete floors, against plaster walls and is sucked into cloth and foam panels on the ceiling and walls. I had designed this room and I, like any creator, knew how it worked.

After the correct number of ounces per hour for a long night had passed, I became aware of silence, true silence. I had never experienced a complete absence of sound before this. I looked up from my floor to see what had changed and there was Jesus.

He had the form of a man, this was not a ghost. Jesus had light brown, shoulder length, curly hair. Tan, loose fitting trousers were topped with a cream colored Dashiki shirt. The opening around His neck had a pattern of pomegranates and the Star of David.

Jesus stood perfectly still. His eyes looked straight into mine. “There’s something I want to show you.” He said. His voice was calm and clear. A cloud of swirling smoke appeared to His left. Blue black wisps turned spirals of slow movement from top to bottom, turning on itself and returning to its start. The cloud was over a foot wide and several feet high, about the size of a man. Even with Jesus in the room, I could not take my eyes off the smoke. There was something familiar about it. I had seen it before, but could not place it. The sight of it made me tremble inside and sick to my stomach.

The rest of the evening is blank. I have tried, over the years, to recall anything after that, but only remember waking up the next morning. “Wow Mark, you have GOT to get a handle on this drinking thing.” was my only thought as my busy day kicked off. By works end, it was forgotten.

I stopped by the Mini Mart to get a fresh twelve pack on my way back to the studio. There was probably beer left over from the night before, but that could stay in the refrigerator as spare for another day. Fresh is better and one can’t have too much beer. I was alright as long as I was at work, because that gave me things to think about outside of myself. On the job there are pressures and deadlines that do not allow wallowing in self-pity. Now I was once again alone with my thoughts. I had my problems and my answer. I sat on the floor of my well lit room, slammed the first two beers and began the ounce counting. Many, many ounces later the volume dropped out of the room.

The events of the night before came rushing back to my brain as soon as the silence began. Looking up, I saw Jesus. This time I skipped straight to fear and trembling. “There is something I want to show you.” He said in a strong voice. He did not sound angry or sad. The words were important and resonating through my being. That same smoke was already twisting beside him. I closed my eyes.

I closed my eyes as tight as I could manage. Curled into a ball on the concrete floor, I forced myself to think of nothing. I lay there humming to make the voice go away. He had only spoken once, but I was afraid of what else Jesus might say. My muscles ached from contracting as I lay there for what seemed like hours. Eventually I passed into asleep.

“That’s it Mark, you’ve drank yourself insane. You have lost your fucking mind. Good job dumbass!” The next day was surreal. I was afraid, disoriented and a mess. Every shadow was a possible monster as I looked for some meaning to this invasion of my space. What would become of me if I couldn’t even go to sleep at night without seeing deities? Maybe if I slammed the first THREE beers. Maybe 32 ounces would work better? Maybe 48? Maybe…

If you are going to do something right, you need to be dedicated. I was dedicated to the fact that getting drunk made the pain and confusion of life go away. In spite of all evidence to the contrary, that was the belief I was holding on to. I checked around every corner of the studio as I walked in carrying my twelve pack. It was just after 8pm. Nothing jumped out to get me by the time I reached my spot on the tracking room floor, so I relaxed a little.

I watched the cold puff of air and heard the pop of the can lid as I opened my first 12 ounces. I didn’t lift the can off the floor. I did not take a drink. I waited, listening to the sounds of the room. Zzzzzzzzzz, Hhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

And then there was no sound. The last thing I wanted to do was look up. I stared at the can as sweat beads rolled down the aluminum. The silence didn’t go away. If I had waited a hundred years, the silence would wait with me. I knew Jesus was in the room with me, yet He said nothing. He waited for me. The ugly, smoke filled cloud was there again. The first century Messiah was looking at me. I knew He was waiting for me to say or do something. I looked into the eyes of Jesus and said “Lord, what is that thing?”

“That’s your soul.” He replied. “That’s your soul.” Like an atomic bomb to the brain, my world fractured into a thousand million pieces.

I gasped for air, but it wouldn’t come. I struggled onto all fours, my face to the floor. After what seemed like minutes my chest heaved full of oxygen. And then the tears came. Snot flew from my nostrils. My eyes burned. I fell back onto the concrete and wailed. That horrible, frightening thing was me. I did not, could not, look back up. I didn’t want to see or know. Is this truth? I didn’t need to ask the question out loud; I already knew the answer.

[sasster]

(kerrim was sprited by @brinytrolls​)

--

Your name is … Wait a minute, don’t we know you? 

What’s going on here? Yeah, yeah. You were that kid that wanted to be the “biggest bestest” subjug this side of Alternia. They grow up so fast. Well, I suppose that was six sweeps ago. Though, you don’t look very “biggest” to me -- Ew, don’t smile at me like that. Carrying on!

Your name is Kerrim Yumeno and at 12 sweeps old, you may not  be the biggest or even the bestest subjugglator Alternia has to offer, you’ve certainly made a name for yourself as one of the more entertaining ones. Though, that was not the plan, you cast aside your delusions of grandeur around the time you hit seven sweeps. It was then that you realized that bigness and greatness and grandness were all overrated.

Clowns were made to have fun. :oP

And boy do you love to have fun -- Puzzles, riddles, board games, hide and seek, hand games. You get the idea. You were even a contestant on the hit gameshow “Survive!” you won a few times, actually. The host said he never met a clown with moves quite like you have. Boy are you nimble!

The best form of entertainment has always been puppet shows, with puppets that you’ve made all by yourself. You’ll use anything to make a puppet. Wood, bones, foam, bones, piper cleaners, bones, etc etc. You fancy yourself very versatile that way. Not picky at all.

Your favorite puppet, and possibly your closest friend, is one you made when you were just 4 sweeps old. Though he has been improved upon since then, he still has the same spirit since the day you strung him up.

You would say Meri, the puppet, and yourself have a very good Messiah blessed bond. Honestly, you don’t know what you would do if something bad ever happened to him. You don’t want to think about that anymore!

Your hive is located deep in the heart of a forest, a bit a ways away from the nearest city or town, though you don’t have it rigged up with traps and pitfalls like the typical paranoid forest dweller might, you are much more interested in meeting any trespassers visitors you might have unmaimed. How else will you entertain and be entertained with a game?

You wonder if anyone is around to play with right now!

Hopefully, you can get there before they find their way out of the thicket this time.