#but devils minion has never been clearer

[fyeahsmokinhot]

How do you hide from the cloud scene?

Ok, Devil's Minion enthusiasts (by that I mean my kind of insane ppl <3). I'm sleep deprived, but this has been bothering me since the rewatch, and a brilliant idea just popped into my head...(sry if this is obvious and i'm just slow, let me get it out).

So, in ep3 Daniel is curious about how vampires hide from the cloud, phones, etc......basically, technology.

He starts up recording Armand, when he approaches to sit down. Types in session, presses record, we see it pick up the next sound.

Daniel asks his question....All in order.

A bit of, what I call, disgusting flirting right in front of Rashid's salad .

Probably.....Probably ......

Picked up by the recording. Ends as they stop talking.

More sinister flirting, but Armand also talks....

And we get this, showing what he just said wasn't picked up.

Is that asystole? nah, that's just my heart every single time these two have a scene together.

Armand smiles, starts answering the question in a convoluted Armand way of not answering shit, and we see the recording resume. BUT, did he ACTUALLY JUST SHOW HIM HOW THEY HIDE FROM THE CLOUD BY MANIPULATING TECH?????? WAS THIS OBVIOUS TO EVERYBODY BUT ME????

Then we end with Daniel later saying this about his original question that I also thought wasn't answered....

And Armand tells him, no boo, you got your answer.

[nalyra-dreaming]

i know this is probably coming from the new fans but why the hell are people complaining about armand and louis 'not being endgame' or about lestat 'getting in the way'???????? even if you're not familiar with the story, the show makes it pretty clear that louis and lestat will end up together or that louis and armand's relationship is not as genuine as they pretend it is. so how are people confused??? i also saw someone say that the show is forcing a white character (lestat) into the narrative instead of letting the two pocs (louis/armand) end up together which is not really sth i can comment on as a white person but come on......

Yeah, lol, I mean... that kind of accusation has been around since s1, and no amount of pointing out marketing, cast statements, writers statements, producers statements or BOOK facts have made a dent in that... take.

AMC has not even promoted Loumand, and for good reasons, and reasons we will yet get to see.

They have however promoted Sam and Jacob together (who JACOB called "endgame") and Assad and Eric/Luke... who will be the "Devil's Minion".

I'm not sure how much clearer it can be made.

And these are the canon relationships, too, just as a note.

The show never promised to rearrange the story to make for a happy POC couple endgame, and it is not doing it now.

And that's all there is to it.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Before and After

Fandom: One Piece Rating: Teen Genre: Family Characters: Law, Penguin, Shachi, Heart Pirates

Law’s life was divided into Befores and Afters.

Whew, it's been a while since I last wrote any Heart Pirates (or One Piece at all) but clearly these characters are still embedded in my muses because finding their characters again wasn't any challenge at all (which was a relief).  In fact, it's been so long that Hakugan's name hadn't been revealed yet, so I've now got to figure out where to place him in my version of the crew's dynamics...

I joined @stereden's Winter Exchange this year for the first (but hopefully not the last!) time, and my match was Castled_Rook, whose prompt options included some Heart Pirates found family (which is, hopefully obviously, what I went for), which has always been my favourite thing to write in this fandom, so that was a perfect match as far as I was concerned :D   Hoping they agree after seeing this fic!

There's a warning for this fic but I'm not entirely sure how to word it, so hopefully this will suffice: a character considering if they would have wanted to live if they'd had the time to think in a life-threatening situation.

Law’s life was divided into Befores and Afters.

Before the Flevance massacre.  After the Flevance massacre.

Before Cora-san. After Cora-san.

Aged thirteen, those two Befores and Afters had encompassed everything he was, with the underlying weight of white lead cloying in his body, destroying him from the inside out.

Losing his family had destroyed him.  Losing Cora-san had obliterated him from existence.

Law had never thought he’d outlive the clumsy idiot who meant well but screamed incompetence with every blunder.  In hindsight, when his thoughts were clear from ever-present fevers and resignation paired with desperation, Law realised he hadn’t wanted to outlive Cora-san, hadn’t wanted to lose and grieve a man that meant so much to him.

He’d already outlived his family once.

Then he outlived his family again.

Law could acknowledge that it was a good thing he hadn’t realised he’d felt that way back on Minion Island.  If his mind had been – not clearer, but sharper, more self-aware, he might not have followed Cora-san’s last wishes.

He might not have lived.

Law loved Cora-san, but did he love him enough to live for him when he’d left him without a family again?  Evidence pointed to yes, because that was exactly what he’d done, but Law was aware, with the cold, harsh truths of hindsight, that if he’d focused on a different emotion, on losing family rather than destroy the world (destroy Doflamingo)… the answer may not have been yes.

It was a good thing the cards had fallen in the order they did.

Not to say Law was glad Cora-san was dead – that was so far from the truth even a liar like him couldn’t even begin to try and say it; the clumsy idiot had no right to leave him like that, no right to go and die to save him when he should have lived for him – but Law would forever be eternally grateful that he had lived. That Cora-san had saved him.

If he had died, he would never have met his crew.  His nakama. His third (and final) family.

Law had no way of knowing if he would outlive this family, too.  The pattern in his life suggested that it was a possibility, but also Law was no helpless child any more.  He was a Captain, a Supernova, a feared member of the Worst Generation, powerful enough to rub shoulders with some of the greatest on the seas (or go toe to toe with them in battle).

He was a doctor.  A surgeon.  And he had the Ultimate Devil Fruit to back him up.

He was no god, but he could play at being a god, play with lives and who lives and who died for as long as he drew breath – and his crew?  His nakama, his family?

Law refused to outlive them, too.

“You’re brooding again.”

Penguin slid onto the bench next to him, pushing a fresh mug of steaming coffee in front of him and taking a loud drink of his own.  “Beri for your thoughts?”

Law ignored him, wrapping his fingers around the mug and watching the letters EATH stand out on his fingers while the D of the thumb opposed them.  The metal transmitted the heat straight into his skin, almost hot enough to burn.

“Law?”

“It’s nothing,” he told his nakama.  Penguin made a disbelieving noise, but something must have convinced him to drop it because he didn’t push any further – although the next slurp of his own drink was obnoxiously loud in a way that Law was more used to hearing from Shachi.

They’d grown up together. Penguin had been Shachi’s older brother the younger’s entire life – not by blood, but Law had learned twice over that blood wasn’t the rule of family (look at the Donquixote brothers, look at Cora-san and Law, look at his nakama).  Shared habits and obnoxious traits were hardly a surprise.

Law didn’t let himself wonder what shared habits he and Lami might have developed, in time.  Didn’t let himself remember the ones that had started planting their seeds already, before being suffocated out by white lead and a blaze of fire.

(Didn’t let himself dwell on the fact that her face had long since faded from his mind, and that all he remembered was her big, gap-toothed smile, and I love you, nii-san! echoing in the depths of his ears.)

As if summoned by Law’s stray mental observation, or perhaps Penguin’s mimic of his own drinking habits, Shachi materialised on his other side, throwing himself onto the bench with aplomb and almost spilling his own mug of dark bliss.  The smell rising from his own coffee was tinted with something else, and Law knew the news his nakama had for him before he even opened his mouth.

“Bepo says we’re coming up on the island,” the ginger reported, taking a slurp loud enough to rival Penguin’s and smacking his lips together obscenely.  “We’ll reach it in a few hours at our current speed.”

It wasn’t an island that held any real significance for them – it was just the next one on the route to Laugh Tale, although the fact that it was on the route at all, the fact that it was a New World island, meant it was one to be approached with caution. Law – and Penguin, Shachi, Bepo, all his nakama – had read up what they could find on the islands of the New World and thought they knew which one they were coming up on (and, more importantly, who it was currently in control, which Yonkou’s territory they were encroaching on this time).

An island on the horizon meant more conflict, and if nothing else, Law could plan for those, at least.

“I want everyone in the infirmary between now and then,” he said, and Shachi hummed, draining his mug and letting it hit the table with more force than strictly necessary.

“Already spread the word,” he said, and once upon a time Law would have hated that Shachi knew and shared his orders before he even alerted Law, but it had been thirteen years since Swallow Island, and two older teenagers with makeshift weapons and a cowering mink cub.

Thirteen years.

He’d had ten years in Flevance.  Three with one or other Donquixote brother.

He’d spent those two lengths of time combined with the three of them, and despite his thirteen year old self’s attempts not to let anyone in ever again, that had been a battle he’d lost before it’d even begun, and Law was glad for it.

There was no-one in all four Blues, no-one in the Grand Line, no-one in the world, that knew him better than the trio he’d founded the Heart Pirates with, and once upon a time Law would have recoiled violently at the idea of being known.

Now, as he gave a nod of acknowledgement, it was a fact of life, a safety net to catch him when he needed it.

(And it went both ways; they knew him but he knew them, knew the little tics and habits that lurked beneath the concealing hat, behind the dark shades, beyond the thick white fur. He knew Shachi had spread the order because he, too, worried about their nakama and the fact it only took a stroke of bad luck to take someone away forever.  He’d known they were coming up on the island before the ginger had even opened his mouth by the smell of mocha because Shachi only indulged in that particular mix of caffeine and comfort when there was an expectation of conflict in their near future.  He knew, already, that Penguin would be the last into the infirmary, letting Law remove his vital organs only once the rest of the crew had undergone the same surgery because he knew his armament was the best in the crew and if they were caught early, he had the best chance of protecting his own body.)

He drained his own mug and stood up, gesturing wordlessly for Shachi to follow him while Penguin gathered up their mugs with a mutter he didn’t mean about it not being his job to clean up after them.  Penguin would be last, but Shachi was always first.

(If Law didn’t fear long term consequences of keeping his nakama’s vital organs out of their bodies, Shachi’s would never be in his body, not with his non-existent armament.)

The procedure was quick and painless.  Shachi had been through it so many times he didn’t even react when the gelatinous cubes erupted from his body and Law Shambles’d them into their allocated place with the secure vault deep within the Tang, not even taking a moment to readjust before hopping off the bed and pulling his tank top back on – Law didn’t need his nakama to take their tops off to get at their organs, but the less in the way, the less potential there was for something to go awry, and Law was a big fan of minimising risks to his nakama.  The shades were next, covering closed eyes, before Shachi threaded his arms back through the sleeves of his boiler suit and yanked the zip up with a familiar zzzhp, snapping the covering flap into place.

“Thanks, Law,” he grinned, clapping him on the shoulder before tugging his hat onto his head.

Law didn’t need thanks, not when the action was always inherently selfish – he wouldn’t outlive his nakama if his nakama didn’t die – but Shachi had taken to thanking him every time and Law had never admitted his selfishness out loud, even though he knew Shachi knew him well enough to understand why he did it.

(There was also the fact that Shachi seemed to lose all self-regard once his organs were removed, revelling in the pseudo-immortality it gave him and taking risks that made Law’s own heart want to leap out of his chest because he knew he could, trusted Law to put him back together whatever befell him.  Law didn’t particularly want thanks for enabling that streak of Shachi’s either, but his single-minded ferocity in battle had saved other nakama more than once, so it was something Law just had to live with. Shachi wouldn’t stop anyway, no matter what he ordered, asked, or begged.  It wasn’t in the ginger’s nature to hold back when his loved ones were in danger – it was a trait they shared.  A trait the whole crew shared, for better or worse.)

“Send Bepo and Hakugan in,” he said instead, because while Bepo was one of the less fragile members of the crew and per breakable hierarchy should be near-last, he needed Bepo on navigation and battle ready as early as possible, and Hakugan had a way with the Tang’s helm that necessitated him there at the first signs of trouble, so he needed to be ready early.

Shachi flicked him a lazy salute, carefree and disrespectful of the origin because Shachi hated pirates the most but he hated marines, too, and disappeared as Ikkaku poked her head around the door, oil streaked through her hair and splattered across her boiler suit.

“Reporting for organ removal duties, Captain!” she chirped, and Law waved her to take a seat.  After her came Bepo and Hakugan, as requested, then the rest of the crew filed in, some alone and others in groups, with Jean Bart and then, finally, Penguin rounding off the crew.

This was not a new routine; his crew knew how to work around their organ removals and their island ahead duties with ease of practice, and Law trusted Penguin and Shachi to keep everything running smoothly from the command room as he went through the motions of making each of his nakama, his family, just that little bit harder to kill.

Law’s life had been a series of Befores and Afters.

Before Swallow Island.  After Swallow Island.

Before the Heart Pirates.

There would not be an After the Heart Pirates.  Jack, and Zou, had come closer than Law ever wanted to come (the only time in years his nakama had faced a battle with their organs in their chests, vulnerable to not just injury but poison) but for as long as Law could do something about it, it would not happen.

There would be no After his family.  Not this one.

[bthenoise]

We’re Starting To Lose It So We Made A Fake Music Award Show To Remember The Quarantine By

We are losing our minds and we aren’t talking figuratively like The Pixies. Every morning waking up in quarantine feels like an episode of Punk’d. 

Where is Aston Kutcher -- oh right, it’s 2020 -- Where is Chance The Rapper? we ask ourselves as we peel ourselves out of bed for what feels like the millionth time.   

Seriously, though. We know you guys are feeling the same way too. We read the tweets. We see the TikToks. Ya’ll are losing your goddamn minds just like us. 

The good thing is, to help with this sense of craziness as best as we possibly can (which isn’t saying much, we aren’t doctors after all -- shout out to all the amazing medical teams out there!) we have constructed the first and hopefully last 2020 Noise Quarantine Awards.

Featuring highly coveted awards such as Best Soundtrack To Fuel Your Hatred For The Government and Best Song To Steal Toilet Paper To, the awards below are meant to shine a light on all the positive things to come out of 2020. 

We know it sounds like an impossible task to put “2020″ and “postive” in the same sentence but somehow we did it. 

Check out the awards below.   

Fantastic Features Award

Silverstein - A Beautiful Place To Drown

Honestly, there are probably about ten different awards we could give Silverstein’s sensational LP A Beautiful Place To Drown. From start to finish, this is hands down one of the band’s best albums yet. However, for the sake of this very serious and very made-up award show, we are happy to present the scene staples with the Fantastic Features Award. 

Not only did the band include familiar favorites such as Beartooth’s Caleb Shomo, Simple Plan’s Pierre Bouvier and Underoath’s Aaron Gillespie, but they also went out of their way to include other artists such as emerging rapper Princess Nokia and Intervals’ guitarist Aaron Marshall. Now if that doesn’t deserve an award, we don’t know what does.  

Back Off Pit Daddies Cause This Song Slaps Award

A Day To Remember - “Mindreader”

But there’s no breakdown! How am I supposed to mosh to this? Would you quit your whining? It’s pretty much impossible for A Day To Remember to write a bad song. And sorry to break it to you pit warriors, they definitely didn’t start with their newest track “Mindreader.

Best Album To Eventually Soundtrack The Next Matrix Movie

Code Orange - Underneath 

Does this one really come as a surprise? Essentially creating their own genre of technology-influenced metalcore (computer core, maybe?), Code Orange’s Underneath is the perfect soundtrack to any type of action-packed, dark web-based, sci-fi thriller like The Matrix trilogy. Now would you like the red pill or the blue pill?  

The Welcome Back, We Fuckin’ Missed You Award

The Ghost Inside - “Aftermath”

A world without new music from The Ghost Inside is a world we don’t want any part of. Thankfully, for the first time since their tragic bus crash back in 2015, the metalcore maestros have returned with the hard-hitting and incredibly emotional track “Aftermath” taken from their soon-to-be-released self-titled album. So for that, the least we could do is present the band with the Welcome Back, We Fuckin’ Missed You Award.  

Honorable Mention: D.R.U.G.S (aka Craig Owens) - “King I Am”

Best Song To Listen To On Repeat And Realize You Successfully Killed Two And A Half Hours Of Your Quarantine

Loathe - “Screaming”

There is nothing made up about this whatsoever. We seriously thank Loathe for creating mind-altering music that transports you to a new dimension.  “Screaming” is a gem and the band deserves to be awarded for it. Oh, and also, I Let It In And It Took Everything is an amazing record everyone needs to hear ASAP.

Best Album To Get Drunk And Talk About Your Feelings To

Violent Soho - Everything Is A-OK

We’re not sure exactly what it is about Australia’s Violent Soho but they always seem to bring the deepest and darkest emotions out of us. Their latest LP Everything Is A-OK is no different. From track one to track ten, the band’s first new album since 2016 is an emotional magnet attracting feeling after feeling leaving us desperate for a drinking buddy and a good cry.

The If It Ain’t Broke Don’t Fix It Award

August Burns Red - Guardians

August Burns Red has been a prominent staple of the heavy music scene for years. Since bursting out of Lancaster, PA with 2005′s Thrill Seeker, the two-time Grammy-nominated act has been a constant source of inspiration with their bruising, top-notch musicianship. Fifteen years later, with the release of their ninth studio album Guardians, the metalcore vets are still as heavy and hard-hitting as ever deserving of our If It Ain’t Broke Don’t Fix It Award.   

Best Album To Eventually Soundtrack The Next Season Of Black Mirror

Enter Shikari - Nothing Is True & Everything Is Possible

Enter Shikari is easily one of the most unpredictable bands in our scene. One minute you think you have them and their eclectic sound pinned down, then the next they release their genre-shattering LP Nothing Is True & Everything Is Possible. With cinematic twists and turns from the rock-oriented opener “THE GREAT UNKNOWN” to the cosmic tornado that is “{ The Dreamer’s Hotel }” and circus-themed “Waltzing Off The Face Of The Earth,” Enter Shikari’s spellbinding LP is a perfect fit for something just as fascinating as the next season of Netflix’s Black Mirror.

Best Album To Get Your Medical Degree To

Vermicide Violence - The Praxis Of Prophylaxis 

We understand it’s not easy to comprehend deathcore lyrics. However, if you’re in need of a good study buddy while you prepare for the boards, look no further than Jarrod Alonge’s new parody album The Praxis Of Prophylaxis. Covering high-end medical topics such as vaccines, gingivitis, asthma and more, Vermicide Violence’s new LP is sure to help a lot more than those Grey’s Anatomy re-runs.    

The Tasmanian Devil Award

Rotting Out - Ronin

The Tasmanian Devil award is a highly coveted prize (possibly one of our most coveted) given to the album with hands down the most circle-pit-inducing tracks. While there have been some pretty good options this year, the record that stands out the most is Rotting Out’s first new album in over seven years, Ronin. Without going too far into detail -- because honestly, it’s pretty obvious why we picked this record -- if you’re able to stand still while listening to these fiery ass songs, you’re probably a cop.

Best Album To Get Drunk And Talk About Your Feelings To Part Two

Spanish Love Songs - Brave Faces, Everyone

Really? You’re gonna complain we used the same category twice in a made-up award show only created cause we’re stuck living fucking Groundhog Day over and over again? Instead, how about you put that same energy into enjoying Spanish Love Songs’ brilliant, tear-jerking album Brave Faces, Everyone. You won’t regret it.

Best Soundtrack To Fuel Your Hatred For The Government

Anti-Flag - 20/20 Vision

Regardless of if you’re really into politics or not, it’s practically impossible at this point to not swear at our so-called “leaders” up in Washington DC. So if you’re looking for the best album to fuel your hatred for the Head Cheeto In Charge and all his helpless minions, look no further than Anti-Flag’s powerful 20/20 Vision.

Honorable Mention: The Homeless Gospel Choir - This Land Is Your Landfill

The Album Most Likely To Get You Out Of Mosh Pit Retirement

Polaris - The Death Of Me

This record is the definition of “slaps.” From beginning to end, Polaris’ punishing new album The Death Of Me is a heavy-duty rollercoaster ride that will leave you with a melted off face and an endless desire to jump back in the pit and crack a few skulls.  

Best Album To Rip A Phat Riff To

Hot Mulligan - You’ll Be Fine

Hot Mulligan are a bunch of jokesters but there’s nothing funny about their new album You’ll Be Fine -- alright, maybe a few of the song titles are a little silly. The band’s latest release is a guitarist’s delight with ringing mathcore-like riffs that will leave you both jubilant and jealous. Case in point, give the infectious opener “OG Bule Sky” a spin and get back to us.   

Honestly, Fight Us, This Song Is A Bop Award

All Time Low feat Blackbear - “Monsters”

We know what some of you cool cats and kittens are thinking: But this isn’t pop-punk!? Since when does Blackbear get a scene pass? Listen up. No, this song isn’t “Dear Maria, Count Me In” but who cares? It’s 2020 and musical genres are dead. Enjoy the good music while you can before we’re all dead too, okay?

Honorable mention: PVRIS - “Deadweight”

Best Song To Steal Toilet Paper To

The Chats - “Drunk N Disorderly”

If you haven’t had the fear of potentially wiping your ass with a washcloth over the last few months, this award probably isn’t for you and your 30 extra rolls of toilet paper. However, for us regular folk who have a limited supply of TP, The Chats’ fast-paced High Risk Behavior track “Drunk N Disorderly” is the perfect song for stumbling into someone’s home and swiping a roll or two.  

Wow We Didn’t See That Coming Award

Falling In Reverse - “The Drug In Me Is Reimagined”

Ronnie Radke has never been afraid to push boundaries musically. Whether it’s rapping on a track or dropping an upbeat, synth-laced single like “Bad Girls Club,” the former Escape The Fate frontman always seems to have something new up his sleeve. This year, to help celebrate 2011′s The Drug In Me Is You becoming gold-certified, Radke and Co. released an epic piano-lead version of their fan-favorite title track. The results? A majestic dream-like experience worth repeating over and over again.

If You Hurt Mother Earth One More Time We Swear You’re Dead Award 

In Hearts Wake - “Worldwide Suicide”

There’s been a lot of talk about global warming over the past few years. Recently, while we’ve all been stuck at home, skies have become clearer than ever as wild animals roam the barren streets. This is a dream come true for earth-friendly metalcore act In Hearts Wake. 

Now as some cities start to reopen, let us remind you: If you even think about going back to your wasteful, pollution-heavy ways, we and In Hearts Wake will come for you with the same force and brutality as heard on their newest track “Worldwide Suicide.” Watch your back.

Sure It’s Different But Still Kicks Ass Award

The Used - Heartwork

This isn’t The Used you knew in junior high. Bert McCrackin and Co. have returned with a fresh-faced 2020 LP that is sure to make you feel some type of way. Featuring guest appearances from members of Blink-182, FEVER 333 and Beartooth, The Used’s latest is a heavy-yet-dancy addition to their beloved-and-never-stale catalog.  

Better Not Sleep On This Record Award

Charmer - Ivy

Look, you literally have nothing but time on your hands. Why not spend it discovering new music from bands who deserve your attention? Seriously, turn off Love Is Blind and Too Hot To Handle and give Charmer’s moody 11-track release Ivy a try. You can thank us later.

Honorable Mention: Big Loser - Love You, Barely Living

Holy Shit We Can’t Believe That Just Happened Award

Dance Gavin Dance - “Calentamiento Global”

Four words we’ve all been thinking since Dance Gavin Dance dropped their highly anticipated album Afterburner: Tilian can speak Spanish!?

Giving the entire Swancore community a jaw-dropping moment with their new experimental track “Calentamiento Global,” in the song, DGD’s brawny frontman shows a little latin flavor with lyrics like “Te adoro, mi reina. Eres la única que veo.” Unsurprisingly, like most Dance Gavin Dance (or should we say Baile Gavin Baile) experiments, the post-hardcore act totally nailed it. 

The Back To Basics Award

The Amity Affliction - Everyone Loves You... Once You Leave Them

The Amity Affliction caught a lot of flack for their experimental 2018 release Misery. While entirely unwarranted as the metalcore vets were just looking to expand their sound, for their 2020 LP Everyone Loves You... Once You Leave Them, the Aussie outfit returned to form with their breakdown-heavy musicianship and brooding lyricism. Still have doubts? How about you give “All My Friends Are Dead” a spin or two.  

Skankin’ Pickle Award

Skatune Network - Ska Goes Emo, Vol. 1

Here’s a fun one. Adding to the list of things we never thought we’d see in 2020, go ahead and add a ska record covering some of your emo favs like My Chemical Romance, Paramore and Blink-182. Already known for his creative covers, Skatune Network really outdid himself this time around with his Ska Goes Emo LP. Who would have guessed you could skank so well to “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)?” 

The 2020 Glow-Up Award

The Word Alive - Monomania

The Word Alive has seen a lot of change over the course of their ten-year career. From 2010′s hard-hitting album Deceiver to this year’s impressive LP Monomania, the band has really grown into who they are today. For the first time, instead of putting out the music they’re expected to release, the Arizona act really stepped out of their comfort zone and dropped the music they wanted to make resulting in one of this year’s freshest and best so far.

Chocolate Covered Cranberries Award

Four Year Strong - Brain Games

For five long grueling years, we went without new music from easycore noisemakers Four Year Strong. This February, that all changed with the release of the band’s killer seventh studio album Brain Pain. Bringing the guitar-lead heaviness fans have come to love over the years along with their infectious pop-punk-leaning songwriting, Four Year Strong’s new record is the perfect balance of sour and sweet -- like chocolate covered cranberries! Who’s hungry?    

[mikaltom53]

Tabletalk Devotions with R.C. Sproul

Duration: 365 days

The Unforgivable Sin

Matthew 12:24–32 “Whoever speaks a word against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but whoever speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come” (v. 32).

Of all the teachings of Jesus, perhaps none troubles us more than His warning about blaspheming the Holy Spirit. When reading today’s passage it is only natural to ask, “What is the unforgivable sin?” and, “Have I committed it?”

Many in church history have identified the unforgivable sin as divorce, adultery, or another grievous sin, or they have said God will not forgive those who do even one evil deed after baptism. That so many options have been suggested illustrates the complexity of Matthew 12:24–32. We must, therefore, humbly approach the topic of the unforgivable sin, aware that we cannot be too cautious when applying today’s verses. Let us also note that even heinous sins are forgivable. Christ pardoned Peter for denying Him (John 18:15–27; 21:15–19). David repented and was forgiven for murder and adultery (2 Sam. 11:1–12:15a). Paul was made an apostle even though He once persecuted Jesus (Acts 9:1–19).

The meaning of Matthew 12:32 is clearer when we consider the passage in its totality (vv. 22–32). Even though they should know better, the Pharisees attribute Jesus’ exorcisms to the power of the Devil (v. 24). This is absurd since it is irrational for Satan to cast out his own minions and tear down his own kingdom (vv. 25–26). Moreover, if Jesus exorcises demons by the Devil’s power, then the followers of the Pharisees who do the same must also be acting under the Adversary’s influence, a deduction these scholars cannot endorse (v. 27). These teachers inconsistently accuse Jesus of being in Satan’s thrall while seeing God at work among their own students. Stubbornly and persistently, the Pharisees are attributing the work of the Holy Spirit in Christ’s ministry to the Devil.

Dr. R.C. Sproul says the unforgivable sin is blaspheming against the Holy Spirit by calling Jesus a devil after being enlightened by that same Spirit. According to John Calvin, we commit such sacrilege “only when we knowingly endeavor to extinguish the Spirit.” There can be no salvation if the work of the Spirit is knowingly rejected. This act reveals a heart so hard that repentance is impossible (Heb. 3:7–19). Ultimately, as Augustine says, “It is unrepentance that is a blasphemy against the Spirit” (Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 1, 6:325).

CORAM DEO: LIVING BEFORE THE FACE OF GOD

Pastors both past and present agree that a person who worries that he has committed the unforgiveable sin has not really done so. Those who do the unforgivable act are so calloused that they do not care about their spiritual state and therefore will never be troubled by the possibility that they have gone too far in their wickedness. Matthew Henry comments, “Those who fear they have committed this sin, give a good sign that they have not.”

For further study:

Exodus 9:1–7

The Bible in a year:

2 Kings 12–14

[geek-patient-zero]

Part 1, Chapter 9

Or: Just Spaghetti, Boss

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Trilogy Volume 1

Sicily—March 12, 1994

Sicily is famous for four things: Beautiful beaches, the pride in which Italian-Americans of Sicilian descent take in the island despite having never been there, getting invaded by every country with access to the Mediterranean, and La Cosa Nostra. This chapter’s about the last one.

Don Caravelli, Capo de Capo of the Mafia, rose to his feet as his four guests were ushered into the huge banquet hall. It was a gesture of respect coming from the supreme crime lord in the world, and the quartet of visitors grinned at each other in pleasure. It had taken months to arrange this meeting, and this slight display indicated that their trip was not in vain.

“Gentlemen,” said their host, a huge man well over six feet tall, his broad shoulders stretching the limits of his impeccably tailored jacket, “welcome to my home.”

The four U.S. mobsters, members of an American Syndicate, set this meeting up in an attempt to get their organization closer to “Caravelli’s minions.” Caravelli gestures to some empty chairs and says that a “special meal" is being planned for them.

Caravelli grinned, flashing white teeth in contrast to a deep tan. “I, of course, will not join you.”

The four men said nothing. They all knew that Caravelli was a vampire.

There was a whole sourcebook about the World of Darkness’ version of the Mafia and how it interacted with the supernatural, so there’s basis for some fancy Italian crooks casually knowing that vampires exist without anyone worrying about potential Masquerade breaches. Mobsters must take the whole “no snitching” thing even more seriously here.

The mobsters don’t care that the absolute head of their organization is an undead parasite of infinite evil eternally cursed by God. They’re weirdly cool about it.

They only cared about his criminal empire. His taste in food was none of their concern. They considered themselves businessmen, dealing with the harsh realities of the world. If necessary, they would deal with the devil if it was good for business.

And maybe black people, but only if they really had to. 

What? Mafia guys are racist.

As the Don’s explaining why he didn’t meet them at the airport, two Kindred bigger than their McCann-sized boss stand at either side of him, while two more guard the door. With the four mortal dons voluntarily entering the lair of a powerful vampire and his big-ass vampire bodyguards and being all casual about it, I’m starting to wonder how the American Mafia lasted this long.

As explained last time, Don Caravelli’s stuck in his mansion because Madeleine Giovanni’s trying to kill him for killing her father. He probably deserved it, being a Giovanni and all, but Caravelli’s not the nicest guy in Italy either.

“My advisers insist I stay within this fortress until she has been found. While I am no coward, I have barely survived three previous attempts on my life by the bitch. I prefer not to offer her an opportunity for a fourth try.”

Tony “The Tuna” Blanchard, head of the east coast branch, the least intimidated by the Don due to visiting him several times before, and going by the name, part-time Dick Tracy villain, correctly guesses that Caravelli’s talking about “that crazy Giovanni dame.” The Don nods, then sends one of the guards at the door away to get his guests a bottle of red wine, and says they’ll talk about their business proposal after dinner.

After two bottles of wine, they talk about Madeleine some more.

“I’m not sure I understand your problem, Don Caravelli,” said George Kross, the Midwest representative of the cartel. A big, red-faced man with beady little eyes, he spoke with a distinctive Indiana twang.

His dialogue still reads like he’s from 1930′s Chicago.

“Some crazy broad is out to get you? Why don’t you just ice the dame? Fuck, you’re boss of bosses. You could order the death of the President of the whole damned USA if you wanted by liftin’ a finger.”

With the state D.C.’s in, Bill’s likely to get taken out accidentally by a random Sabbat goon, so that ain’t saying much.

“Unfortunately, your commander-in-chief is much easier to reach than a high-ranking member of the Giovanni Clan,” said Don Caravelli smoothly.

Over the past sixty years, Madeleine had taken out six of the Don’s best assassins. Kross asks if she could be bought, “everyone has a price” and all that.

Don Caravelli nodded. “My sentiments as well. However, the Giovanni are a tightly-knit band of troublemakers. They lust for the power I control. And,” the Don shrugged in mock despair, “I made the unfortunate mistake of executing her father many years ago. Madeleine neither forgives nor forgets.”

“Yeah,” said Taylor. “Dames are like that.”

Harvey Taylor, west coast boss and obvious hit with the ladies, knows enough about Kindred to then ask if the Don can’t just ask her clan elders to make her back down. Caravelli says that would work with any other clan, but not the Giovanni.

Don Caravelli rose from his chair. “Let me relate to you gentlemen a bit of Kindred lore unknown to most humans. It will make the situation I face much clearer.”

I’ve seen the word “lore” used so many time in online discussions, both seriously and mockingly, that it’s weird reading it in an actual book. 

Yep, this is another lore-dump chapter. This time we’re gonna learn about the cheerful practice of diablerie. But first, Don Caravelli has to set the mood.

The mafia lord walked over to the fireplace. He removed an iron poker from the fireplace tools. Holding the metal rod in one hand, he slapped it rhythmically into his other palm as he spoke.

“As you are well aware, we Kindred live on human blood. It provides us with all the nourishment we need. Vitae, as we call it, is the elixir of life. However, while mortal blood is as wine, Kindred blood is our finest brandy. We call it the darker drink.”

Caravelli smiled, emphasizing each word with a whack of the poker.

Took me a bit to realize that he was just emphasizing the three italicized words and not that whole intro. “As *whack* you *whack* are *whack* well *whack* aware *whack*, we *whack* Kindred *whack*”

“When the opportunity arises, my friends, we Kindred are cannibals. The Sixth Tradition of Caine forbids vampires from drinking the blood of their own kind, but it is largely ignored. The strong obey their own laws.”

Slowly, the mafia chief circled the table, stopping briefly behind each Syndicate chief. None of the four appeared very comfortable with Caravelli standing behind them.

Oh, that’s cute. They all remember the baseball bat scene from The Untouchables.

“Diablerie describes the act of one vampire draining the blood of another. The pleasure derived from such cannibalism is beyond description. More important, however, is the result when it involves a vampire of any generation who drinks the vitae of one of a lower generation. Remember, among my race, the lower the generation, the greater the power!”

...”The life fluid consumed is such a powerful drink that it gives the attacker all of the powers of his victim! It is as if a child suddenly becomes his father, with all of the adult’s vitality. In other words, a sixth-generation vampire who practices diablerie would himself become a fifth-generation Kindred. And gain all of the greater power and strength of that level.”

Don Caravelli leaves out an important detail. See, when a Kindred commits diablerie, they don’t just suck out their victim’s blood. They suck out and absorb the victim’s soul. It’s the soul that lowers their generation. It results in the complete destruction of the victim, and is one of the main reasons why it’s considered such a heinous act. Personally, I find the destruction of a soul in any setting with a confirmed afterlife to be horrifying, but that’s just me.

The Camarilla outright forbids Diablerie, their stated reason being that it’s an evil act. The cynical reason is that the Camarilla system is meant to keep the older and mostly lower generation Kindred in power while the younger ones stay in their place at the bottom. Allowing diablerie would be... detrimental to that system.

There’s an unspoken exception when it comes to the subject of a Blood Hunt, when a Prince of a city puts a hit out on an offending vampire. If you’re allowed to soul-suck the bounty, well that’s just a nice bonus. And if you do, no one will say anything.

The Sabbat on the other hand are cool with diablerie and don’t make any pretenses about it. It fits in with the social darwinism of the Lasombra, the edgelordiness of the Tzimisce, and the overall short-sighted stupidity of the entire sect.

Caravelli continues, saying that from there the newly fifth-gen vampire would have to diablerize a fourth-generation Methuselah for another power boost, and from there having to locate and kill one of the world-ending Antediluvians. He stops there. He doesn’t say anything, but we know that the second generation are all dead, and... I mean in theory it’s possible but, no, you can’t diablerize Caine. The man’s like a tiny god. It ain’t gonna happen.

“I get it, said Sol Cohen, the Syndicate boss of the South who had thus far kept silent. “It’s like moving up the corporate ladder. Or taking steps in our organization. To rise to a level of greater wealth and control, you gotta take out the guy ahead of you in line. That’s the only way to step into his job.”

That’s... not how the mafia’s meant to work, Sol. All that mob talk about oaths of loyalty might not be so unbreakable when the feds get a hold of you, but you’re at least expected to not kill your boss. And it’s probably not a good idea to let the Boss of All Bosses know you think organized crime runs on the Keep What You Kill rule of promotion.

But the don humors him, then sits down again while still holding the poker. He explains that since he’s a fifth-generation Brujah, and Madeleine’s sixth-generation, she’s got further incentive to kill him beyond revenge.

“Man, oh man,” said George Kross. “No wonder you Kindred are so paranoid. Not only are there two sects at war, thirteen distinct clans struggling for power, but every vampire on the block is looking to murder his boss, drink his blood, and then take his place.”

George’s mention of the thirteen clans, which he knows about for some reason, launches Don Caravelli on another lecture about diablerie, Antediluvians, and how that’s also related to his conflict with the Giovanni. He says that while the thirteen Antediluvians were the founders of the modern clans, some of them are not as old as the others, if you catch his meaning.

“Whatcha mean?” asked Sol Cohen. “You’re saying that some other Kindred went and did this diablerie thing on one of the top honchos?”

Caravelli laughed, a full-bodied deep sound that echoed in the chamber. “Honchos! You Americans use such wonderful terms. I must remember that word. It has a certain ring I like.”

The Don’s so amused by our American lingo he finally ditches his poker.

The four Syndicate bosses breathed a sigh of relief. They were all well aware of the fact that they were deep inside an impregnable fortress where Don Caravelli’s word was law. Though their host had been gracious to a fault, none of the quartet felt quite at ease.

The Don continues, talking about how several times over the millennia an original Antediluvian has been diablerized by a fourth-gen vampire, before stopping again.

“You must be hungry. I shall order dinner prepared.” He waved a hand at one of his lieutenants. “By the time my story is finished, it will be here.”

“No disrespect, Don Caravelli,” said George Kross, “but my stomach’s been feelin’ kinda jumpy last few minutes. Combination of that wine and this cannibalism talk. Mind if I take a trip to the john?”

“Of course not,” said the vampire. “Nicko, on your way to the kitchen, show Mr. Kross the facilities.”

Kross wobbled out of the room, his face a pasty green. “George never could handle wine,” remarked Sol Cohen with a laugh. “He’s a beer man from way, way back.”

“I am sure he will be fine.” said Don Caravelli.”

He continues, starting with his own clan, the Brujah. He claims they’re really descended from Troile, a fourth-generation Kindred who killed his sire, the original Brujah Antediluvian.

“In truth, our clan should be named Troile instead of Brujah.”

Not that a clan necessarily has to share their name with their progenitor Antediluvian. The Brujah Antediluvian’s also been called “Ilyes” and “Troile the Elder,” but “Brujah” is another alias for him and that’s the name this story uses.

Tony Blanchard asks the Don what happened to Brujah’s other 4th-generation childer after his death. Caravelli answers that they effectively became clanless, and are rumored to have disappeared into the far east, but no one knows or cares one way or the other. We’ll find out what happened to at least one of those childer later on in the story. As for Brujah’s other childer as a whole, in canon, that has a pretty interesting answer. That’s for even later, though.

“I bet the Giovanni weren’t among those original thirteen,” said Harvey Taylor. “I don’t think there was anybody with a name like that around before the Middle Ages.”

Great observation by Harvey here, but maybe not the best thing to draw attention to unless you want readers to notice that three actually ancient clans also have modern sounding names; the Spanish words for “witch”, “bullfighter”, and “the shadow”.

Don Caravelli tells them how the Giovanni and Tremere came to be. I already told you the Tremere Clan’s origins back in the prologue, but here’s how the Don explains it.

“The Giovanni and the Tremere Clans are comparatively young ones,” stated Don Caravelli. “Their leaders, both extremely ruthless men in life, became equally ruthless Kindred in undeath. Giovanni and Tremere lowered their generation by one act of Diablerie after another. Until finally, when they were fourth generation, they each hunted down an Antediluvian and drank their blood. Thus they gained the full strength of a third-generation vampire for their clan. And thus, by Kindred law, established themselves as a true bloodline.”

According to the wiki, Augustus Giovanni and Lord Tremere skipped lowering their generation to four and went straight for the big guys. Giovanni was already fourth-gen, having been sired by the very Antediluvian he would diablerize. Tremere, meanwhile, just broke into Saulot’s tomb and ate his soul while he was in torpor.

Don Caravelli further explains, when asked about it by Tony Blanchard, that the two new clans then hunted down the rest of the clans whose leaders they just killed. By the time the Camarilla noticed and ordered them to stop, there were only a handful each of the original clans, displaced, newly clanless, members of an extinct bloodline, and now unimportant in the new status quo.

These were all two separate events, by the way. It’s not like Augustus Giovanni and Lord Tremere formed some sort of Asshole Alliance and rose up at the same time.

“Which leads us to what?” asked Harvey Taylor. “I know there’s a point to this story, but I ain’t sure what it is.”

Smart, Harvey. Tell the superpowered undead Godfather to get to the point. I ask you again, how did the American Mafia last this long?

“The lesson is quite simple, Mr. Taylor,” said Don Caravelli. “Of thirteen clans, just these three are descended from vampires who are not eight or nine millennia old. Even immortality becomes boring after six thousand years. The Brujah, the Giovanni, and the Tremere bloodlines are younger, stronger, and more dynamic than the other ten. Though our elders are not as ancient, they possess powers equal to the leaders of any other clan. We are not as weary of undeath. Far fewer of our number have retreated into an eternal torpor. Or abandoned all hope and watched the sun rise.”

Troile’s diablerie happened back during the time of Enoch, the First City, when Caine was still ruling over vampirekind instead of collecting fares in L.A. When it comes to age, there’s very little difference between the Brujah and the very slightly older clans. But hey, here’s the Don acting like his people are the hip new kids in town along with the Tremere and Giovanni. The way I’m tempted to read this is that despite being Master of the Mafia he’s insecure about being a boring old Brujah, and not even the lovable rebel kind, so he’s hyping up the clan to make himself look cooler by association.

“The elders among these three clans know that one of our bloodlines is destined someday to rule the Kindred. Though we forge uneasy alliances, even pursue common goals, we understand that the other two clans are our true rivals among the Cainites. So while I wish Madeleine Giovanni would cease her endless pursuit, I know it will never happen. The Brujah, the Tremere, and the Giovanni are engaged in a secret battle to the death. It is a Blood War. And, in such a fight, there are no compromises.”

You’d think the fact that she’s not randomly killing off every other Brujah and Tremere around would tip Caravelli off that Madeleine’s just pissed about her dad.

“George’s been gone for a long time,” said Tony Blanchard. He chuckled. “Hope he didn’t fall in.”

“I am sure Mr. Kross will be joining us momentarily,” said Don Caravelli. He rose to his feet. “Ah, supper has arrived.”

Three huge Kindred entered the room wheeling a gigantic rolling serving table. On it were three huge silver platters covered in immense lids.”

That’s a lot of spaghetti.

Lifting them off the cart, the attendants placed a platter in front of each of the Syndicate bosses.

“Hey,” said Sol Cohen. “What about George? He should be here.”

You all know what’s coming, don’t you?

Don Caravelli smiled and nodded to his men. Each lifted the lid of a platter. The horrified screams of the three gangsters rebounded off the walls of the chamber for several moments. George Kross had returned, but in pieces. The shocked look on his face, staring with opened eyes from the tray in front of Tony Blanchard, indicated his death had not been a pleasant one.

Or: Just Corpses, Boss

Normally the psycho character pulling this would wait until the other guys ate a few bits of their friend before the reveal, but I understand the Don and his men were working on a time limit.

Don Caravelli reveals that while he was monologuing, one of his men was reading their minds and found out that George was planning for months to learn all the secrets of the Don’s mansion during this meeting, then sell it to the highest bidder.

“The fool. He thought to play me for a fool.”

The Mafia capo grinned savagely. His face no longer appeared the least bit human. His bright eyes glowed blood red.

“His trip to the bathroom was the result of an overwhelming suggestion placed in his mind by my agent. ”

Going by how the story’s portrayed similar powers so far, he did this by thinking “Tummy Ache. Tummy Ache.” at George really hard while having a Mighty Will.

“I thought it best to deal with Mr. Kross outside. It would have been inhospitable to butcher him during our talk.”

The Mafia chieftain gestured and the covers were replaced on the platters. “You gentlemen came to bargain in good faith. I appreciate that. Please be aware that I expect negotiations to run smoothly. I think you will find my terms for your organization most generous.” It was not necessary for the the Don to threaten them any further with the body of George Kross resting in front of them on the table.

Gotta admit, I’m a big fan of that whole “fake politeness” act some villains do.

“In any case, you now know much too much about the Kindred to leave here unchanged,” he declared as the table was cleared. “My second-in-command, Don Lazzari, will shortly feed you some of his blood. The transformation from human to ghoul is quite painless. It will guarantee your silence on what I have told you tonight. And ensure your loyalty to my every wish.”

“I was happy to let you all work on the Honor System, but nooooo, Georgey had to ruin it for everybody.”

So here’s the one time in this book that ghouls are portrayed as slaves to the will of their vampire master instead of just buffed up humans who work for vampires for the perks. There’s one more implied moment later, where one character wonders whether or not another character really is a ghoul, but this is the closest the story gets to explaining it, in that exposition-heavy style it uses to explain everything else about the setting.

Anyway, how will this work? These shmucks are going back to the states, so does that mean Don Lazzari now has to regularly make three vials of his own blood and mail them overseas to keep them loyal? Is this standard procedure for the Mafia? It’d be easier for everyone if the vampire mobsters upheld the Masquerade more and acted like the whole organization’s just mortal Sicilians from the top down.

Don Caravelli nodded at his still-trembling guests. “Perhaps now you understand why Madeleine Giovanni and I cannot make a bargain. Neither of us,” and he laughed and laughed, “is very good at forgiving.”