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rdr2stories · 5 months ago

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"Betrayal" a rdr2 fanfiction.

Arthur hadn't been able to free himself, the wounds he had suffered under Colm's care had simply been too much, his faith was left in Dutch. It was with his whole heart that he had hoped that Dutch would come, after all his life had depended on it, yet Dutch never came.

Loosely based on (I remembeed the drawing not the caption):

The basement had always been a dark and sorrowful place no matter which house, which hideout or which hole they were kept up in, it would always be his least favorite of them all. The air would feel suffocating even if the sun was shining right after a cool rainfall, the walls would feel as though they were cramping in on him even if they were wider than the actual room he was sleeping in, his senses would be overwhelmed, noises, smells and feelings that weren’t actually there would crowd his mind and trap him in a night he would rather forget.

His shoulder was healed, the only remains of the wound that had once hollowed out his flesh being the tough scar tissue that had not managed to patch up the break of his heart. When he breathed it was slow and airy, the kick his former enemies had made to his chest and sides had done something to his ribs and lungs which could not be undone. He was no longer silent, he could be heard miles away by his struggling breathing, but he didn’t need to be silent any longer, his days as a desperate workhorse were over.

He had no doubt that the man in the basement who was suffering the similar wounds he had years ago could hear him, yet he would not know who it was standing there, his mind racing, considering if he was ready to get face to face with a man whom he had love and cared for for years but had not shown the same kindness to him in the end.

One step at a time he made his way down into the suffocating basement, the walls closing in around him and cutting the outside world off like the hatch over the steps had been slammed shut. It was just him, the man and the singular flame of the candle that gave just enough lighting for him to see the face he would remember to his death, that, even when aged, had not changed a bit.

The man was hanging upside down, just like he had, his face was red, his arms hanging loosely down towards the ground as the iron chains wrapped around his ankles and held him above the ground. A wound had been afflicted to his chest, a shallow knife wound cutting over the collarbones and ripping up the fine shirt and vest that he always wore. It was nothing, a mere scrape compared to other wounds suffered in the past, no matter how big the red puddle on the ground was.

His snail-like mustache looked exactly the same, except for the fact that it was no longer black but rather gray with age. The same could be said for the hair that once had curled around his nape but now was cut short as if he was scared it would run off or like he had simply grown tired of maintaining it.

He had not seen that face in years and though he had dreamt of seeing it many many times before, he could not have imagined the emotions that welled up in him. The anger that rose from parts of his core he had not felt since the death of his family, the sadness that made him feel like breaking down weeping on the cold gravel floor and the conflict that he had thought he had overcome. He hated that part of himself felt like hugging the man, embracing him and crying into his chest like a little kid, appologicing as if it wasn’t him who had been left for dead.

The upside down man looked drowsy, his eyelids halfway down his brown eyes that would make you trust him in a mere second even though he had more bodies on his back than he counld count. His lips were slightly apart as if he was simply asleep, but he wasn’t because he reacted when the boy he had left stepped into the light stream coming down from the top of the stairs. He could not yet see who it was, the boy’s features hidden, he recongized the satchel that he carried on his hip.

The man’s eyes seeked upwards to the cold face he had once known as his protegee, as his son. “Arthur?”

“Hi Dutch,” Arthur spoke as he grabbed the chair by the table that the candle stood on and pulled it over to him so that he could sit and face his old mention, his old father.

“You- You are alive!” Dutch’s deep and raspy voice sounded, confusion yet hope and glee to be found in it. “Oh how glad I am to see you! I thought you were dead! Help an old fella down from here and let’s get away! Oh how happy the others will be to know you are alive! We made a little memorial for you back in West Elizabeth since we didn’t have your body, we buried Sean next to it-”

“Sean?” Arthur asked with anger rising in his chest. His brother, his little brother was dead? “Did you leave him as well? Did you leave him for dead too?”

Dutch’s eyes narrowed, his brows drawing together in confusion. “Whatever do you mean son?”

“You didn’t come for me Dutch!” Arthur exclaimed, standing up so suddenly that the chair behind him slammed to the ground as it tipped over. “I was waiting for you! I was waiting for you to come get me but you didn’t! You left me for dead!”

“Arthur- My son,” Dutch’s eyes were frantic and confused as he looked over the green clothing of the boy he had raised. “We thought you had gone out hunting- We didn’t think nothing of it until a few days later and by then we couldn’t find you- You were gone-”

“Hunting?” Arthur asked in irritation as he felt anger well up in him, a hand running over his eyes. “Hunting Dutch?! I told you! I told you I would meet you by the forked road!” He looked directly at Dutch, an accusing finger pointed at him. “I told you no matter what, I would meet you at the forked road! I keep my promises Dutch! I always do! I made that agreement with you so that if something happened to either me or you, you would have known something was wrong! I wasn’t out hunting Dutch! I had been kidnapped!” He took a step closer to Dutch, who’s eyes widened, for the first time being on the receiving end of the anger that was in the monster he had created, of the anger of the man who’s warrant poster said ‘do not approach’. “I had been shot! I was beaten! I was tortured! Hanging upside down as you are, left with hopes that you would come but you didn’t!”

“Arthur-” Dutch tried to cut in.

“Don’t you ‘Arthur’ me,” Arthur groaned, running a hand over his face again. “You left me Dutch, left me. I sat here, clinging onto hope that you would come back for me, like you said you always would, but you didn’t, and do you know who took pity on me? Colm of all people.” Arthur snorted as he slightly shook his head. “That O’Driscoll boy wasn’t so wrong about Colm, he has a way of making you feel special. He took me in when you left me.”

“I didn’t leave you.” Dutch spoke in a soft tone. “We searched for you Arthur, all of us did.”

“Not well enough,” Arthur bit lightly at the inside of his cheek. “Colm was expecting you to come get me, he gave you a clear trail to follow, but you didn’t.” He let out a snort. “In a way I am glad, I ain’t been a workhorse since I have gotten here. Colm appreciates me, gave me my own room and everything, doesn’t send me out to do his dirty work like you did. And your ideals? You cared so much about ideals, about sticking together, yet you didn’t come for me. Your ideals are nothing but lies that you hide behind.”

“Lies?!” Dutch exclaimed, this time with anger sweepin through his voice.

“Lies, Dutch, lies. Ideals are nothing but empty words without action to back them up!”

“Arthur,” A voice came from the top of the staircase and Arthur turned to look at the man descending, the man whom he had once seen as foe but now as friend, the man who had taken him in when he had been beat, tortured and abandoned, even if he had been the one doing half of it.

“Colm,” Dutch’s low voice sounded as he watched his enemy, the killer of his lover, stride down into the basement, the sunlight coming down the stairs highlighting the fur running around the collar of his jacket as he came closer and stood next to Arthur.

“Dutch, how nice to see you are awake,” Colm gave a big grin, knowing that the pain of seeing Arthur against him instead of with him hurting far more than any bullet wound or stab could ever do. “Look who I found.” He placed his hands on Arthur’s shoulders. “The dog you threw away. You know, it is quite a pity because oh how he works, his bite is stronger than any I have seen before. You trained him well, I am not going to lie, I was surprised when you abandoned him, but then again, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

Arthur let out a low grunt but otherwise remained quiet, it wasn’t the first time Colm had explained the situation like that, but he hated it either way, he hated thinking that he meant nothing more than an empty tin can discarded after being used to Dutch, it hurt him even after all those years.

“Trash?!” Dutch’s voice sounded, genuinely sounding hurt at the way his relation to Arthur was described. “Arthur is my son. He is not trash!”

“Yet you discarded him as such, forgotten in a basement.” Colm patted Arthur’s shoulder. “Ay ay, so be, we got bigger issues, the gang is on their way Arthur, they are coming for Dutch.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, he knew it would happen, he had known it because it was the plan, but it still hurt, hurt far more than he was willing to admit. Deep inside he had hoped that Dutch would have been abandoned too, just like he had been abandoned, that it wasn’t him that was the reason he was left behind but that it was simply the gang. Of course it wasn’t like that. Dutch would always be saved, and he would always be left behind, expected to care for himself.

“Coming,” Arthur spoke in a lower voice than he had anticipated when he turned to follow Colm who had begun to walk up the stairs and out of the basement. As such, he turned his back on his father, feeling his heart plummet in his chest. He didn’t know what he had expected. Some kind of closure? That maybe Dutch hadn’t been as he had remembered him? That he was actually much more of an asshole? Whatever he had wished for, he hadn’t gained it, he merely felt more conflicted than before.

“Arthur-” Dutch exclaimed, heavily in breath and wide in eyes as Arthur reluctantly halted and hesitantly turned to look at him one last time. “You are my son, we can still fix this.”

Arthur wanted to believe it, oh he wanted to believe it more than anything, but he knew he couldn’t. He knew that what had done could not be fixed, the damage could not be repaired no matter how many sweet words were spoken, no matter how many promises had been made.

The sun was warm and welcoming when Arthur exited the basement and he was let out into the open world again. Normally he would let out a deep breath of relief and take a moment to get back into his own body, but he didn’t do it at that time, he didn’t feel welcomed nor as happy as he normally would being warmed by the sun.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and made his way over to his horse which stood hitched in the outskirts of camp. It’s fur was soft as it always had been, but if it had suffered with the years and patches of the previously brown color had gone gray with age. Other than the few belongings he had had on him when he had been kidnapped, most of which had been replaced over time, the horse was the one thing that remained from his years with the Van Der Linde gang. It was a constant, the one thing he trusted to never betray him.

It didn’t pain him to say that he did not trust Colm with his life, he knew that Colm did not care for him much other than the fact it gave him a leverage over Dutch, bragging rights. He knew that Colm cared for himself first and foremost. He knew that, he accepted it, he was okay with it, he had even opened up about it to one of the girls whom had been around camp at some point. She had asked him why he hadn’t cared when he had cared so deeply about Dutch’s betrayal and he had told her the truth.

Dutch had always pretended to be there for him, had spoken grand words about fellowship and friendship and such, he had spilled lies and he had made Arthur believe them, Colm on the other hand, Colm was honest. He never outright said that he cared for himself most, but never said that he cared for Arthur most like Dutch had.

He liked the certainty of the fact he was on his own more than the white lie that he had someone to rely on. It was that lie that had disappointed him the most, that had given him the heart that had yet to heal.

The repeater in his hand was new, one that they had stolen off a man who had gotten on the wrong side of Colm, it was a new model, shiny and bright, not a single flaw to be found. Arthur had determined to keep it that way.

Colm didn’t do much fighting himself, when Arthur had run with Dutch he had thought it had just been pride, but the truth was a bad hand that he could barely bend his fingers on. Arthur didn’t mind it much, he didn’t need to do a lot of fighting either, but in big cases like this, he did, and in this one he wanted to, he wanted to face his former brothers.

Hiding behind a barrel, Arthur waited, his breathing revealing his location but he didn’t mind much. As soon as the fighting began it wouldn’t be audible over the gunshots either way.

The gang he had run with was loud as always, the hooves of their horses hammering against the ground in one big storm, tearing up grass, dirt and stone with them. They weren’t planning on quieting down, they were planning on raiding in the place, like they had a habit of doing.

He heard when the fighting started, but he didn’t move, it wasn’t his job to. His job was to stay, to protect. Maybe Colm had placed Arthur so far back because he didn’t trust Arthur to kill his brothers, and maybe Arthur was happy because he didn’t know if he could either.

Ever so slowly the shots came closer and closer and Arthur’s heart twisted in his chest, he didn’t know what to hope, what to expect. Did he hope his brothers’ blood would coat another's hand because he loved them too much to kill them himself or did he hope their blood would coat his because he could not bare another taking their lives? He did not know, but in the end he would have to make a choice, he knew that when he saw Marston come near, when he saw his brother’s eyes scan the area and run closer to the basement stairs in the back of the building, away fromthe fight happening in the front.

Arthur’s brother was scarred, much more than he had been before. The marks that the wolves had left over his face were practically gone under what seemed to be burn scars which coated his face. His hair looked far more crusty, far more stiff than it had before, though it had found the strength to grow longer. His brother hadn’t even noticed him as he rose from his spot behind the barrel and drew the repeated, a click sounding as it was pointed at Marston who halted suddenly.

“Go on, shoot.” Marston spoke in an annoyed voice, though Arthur could near the slight tremble. Even the boy who now carried all the scars of being worked to the bone in a field of death still worried about the afterlife. He stood with his hands clenched around his revolver as he held it slightly away from himself, the finger off the trigger, maybe hoping it would show peace.

“If you so wish,” Arthur merely replied, perfectly hiding the conflict that made him rest his finger on the metal above the trigger instead of on the trigger itself.

Marston suddenly stiffened up, immediate recognition of the voice he had not heard for years as he turned around without a second thought, his eyes wide and face conflicted, much similar to Dutch’s. “Arthur! We thought you were dead!”

Arthur raised the gun against Marston’s head as he dared step closer. “Yeah you all did.” He saw when Marston realised that Arthur wore the green bandana of the O’Driscolls around his neck, slightly covering a scar running over his throat which he had suffered after the betrayal.

Marston took a step back, his eyes wide. “You-”

“You left me.” Arthur simply replied, though he knew somewhere that John had been restricted to Dutch’s decision not to find him.

“Dutch told me you died!” Marston defended, his free hand coming to cludge the fabric of his shirt resting over his heart.

“I always knew you were dumb, but not this dumb.” Arthur snorted, trying to hide the fact that he was terrified, the fact that he knew either he would have to shoot his brother or his brother would shoot him. There was not a chance where they both walked away unharmed, it was simply not possible, the betrayal was too big.

#rdr2 #rdr2 community #rdr2 fanfic #john marston #rdr john #rdr2 john #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 dutch #dutch van der linde #colm o'driscoll #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #red dead fanfiction #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption two

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yesireadbooks · 1 year ago

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Pretend that I've just asked you a question that you've been dying for someone to ask you about your work, and answer it

Oooooh, you put yourself in trouble Madame Diplomat, cuz this would be looonggg...

Imma pretend you asked about the origins of Scalmropia. hahha

Ok, so I did say sometime earlier that this was part of my 12-year-old world domination plan, haha. And this will get carzy so please don't judge me. :)

Well, the thing is, back then, I had an obsession with starting a business. Not a normal one, I wanted a business empire like the Virgin Group which has a company like for anything. And then, while I was think about this, I also read about of taxation, tax havens and local restrictions. That made me realise that if I were to make to big profits, I would be losing a ton to the governement. This is was during my capitalist era so, yeah, haha. And then I also realised that much of my companies would be put under great surveillance because they included things like weapons production, medical testing, etc.

So, my solution was to make my own country. First, I looked onto to buying huge amounts of land and declaring it as my territory under the Montevideo Convention. I planned to buy 25% of Russia, given the low population density and hence the possibility to relocate. But then I scrapped the idea due to the sheer amount of money needed and the possible backlash. Then I decided to plan to make a new land. I read about these land extentions (one was happening In Sri Lanka too) so I planned that.

So I began reading up on sand, soil and gravel prices. Quotas, providers, shipments and stuff. I also read up on microstates, sovereign states, Kingdom of Lovely and Asgardia. Then also maritime boundaries, declarations of independence, etc.

The name is an acronym haha. And I also made a flag, coat of arms, a (bad) national anthem, a (partially made) constitution and a wiki page.

National Anthem

Sunshine and Water We depend on as much With our worthy souls upon you We devote to you as such Freedom and Justice Honesty and Unity Is what makes us greater Upon all worlds Upon this world We choose to live upon you This is a land of wonder In which all Faiths are met This is a land of harmony In which all tongues are spoken Freedom and Justice Honesty and Unity Is what makes us greater Upon all worlds Upon this world We choose to live upon you When all of the world shall meet We shall rise above all We shall help our friends grow And achieve the goals we’ve achieved Freedom and Justice Honesty and Unity Is what makes us greater Upon all worlds Upon this world We choose to live upon you Scalmropia! Scalmropia! We would kneel upon you Scalmropia! Scalmropia! We’re with you till the world ends Scalmropia! Scalmropia! I shall protect you with my own blood

Constitution

0001 – This is the constitution of The Economical and Technological Republic of S.C.A.L.M.R.O.P.I.A. 0001A – This constitution will never be expired, not even in terms of time. 0001B – This constitution may not be replaced, removed or amended at any circumstances. 0002 – The flag of S.C.A.L.M.R.O.P.I.A is the “Earth and Elements flag”. 0002A – This may not be changed under any circumstances. 0003 – The emblem of S.C.A.L.M.R.O.P.I.A is the Emblem in the Fig.1.1 0003A – This will not be changed under any circumstances. 0004 – The national anthem of S.C.A.L.M.R.O.P.I.A is 0004A – This may not be changed under any circumstances. 0005 – All the Physical Employees of [Redacted] will be declared citizens of S.C.A.L.M.R.O.P.I.A. 0005A – Family members of the Physical Employees up to the count of 7 members maximum will be declared citizens. 0006 – People from other countries will not be granted citizenship unless being a Physical Employee of [Redacted]. 0006A – Foreign citizens seeking citizenship in S.C.A.L.M.R.O.P.I.A under all categories such as Migration, Refuge etc. Will be granted a temporary [Redacted] 0007 – The power of controlling S.C.A.L.M.R.O.P.I.A will be in parallel with the [Redacted] 0007A – The ownership of S.C.A.L.M.R.O.P.I.A will be in Parallel with the [Redacted] 0007B – Under no circumstances should the ownership of S.C.A.L.M.R.O.P.I.A will be sold, leased or rented to any party. 0008 – No agreement or document which has the slightest danger for the Republic, or its citizens and their rights will not be signed under any circumstances. 0008A – No agreement or document which has the slightest danger for the constitution of S.C.A.L.M.R.O.P.I.A will be signed. 0008B – Even if such document is signed, the document or agreement shall be cancelled as a whole including its powers against the country, it’s citizens, laws and regulations and the Constitution under the powers of the constitution of S.C.A.L.M.R.O.P.I.A. 0009 – All cases of crime will be taken towards an independent Court with a Judge panel of experienced and educated judges. 0009A – All the members in the jury must not have any relationship with both the defendant and the victim. They must not also be a beneficiary of a certain judgement of the court. 0010 – Every person under the age of 18 will be considered a child according to the International Standards. 0010A – Half of the prices for the acquired basic needs of a child such as food, education will be granted by the government. 0011 – This country is not a [Redacted] 0011A – Every result of the research will be made public. 0012 – No child is to be used for working, warfare, drug trafficking, child trafficking etc. 0013 – When producing goods and services from companies other than those of [Redacted], the sales owners must reserve a business license and must provide respective goods and services within Economic cities. 0014 – During medical emergencies all the citizens must obey The Quarantine Act.

After some time, I let go of the idea and it has been since been in the depths of my drive. I did use the country idea when I played Politics & War but then I later deleted the page and now that I needed a country idea for my wips, I decided to to use the name, but with different meaning and backstories. Much of what I have at the Scalmropia page are things I thought of recently. But this is the OG idea.

Thank you if you read far, much love and appreciations!

#thank you for asking!#ask game #crazy stuff #childhood memories

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dfroza · 1 month ago

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A True story of seeds and illumination

(being clearly exposed)

from Today’s reading in the book of Luke in the 8th chapter

(will you take it to heart?)

Jesus: Once a farmer went out to scatter seed in his fields. Some seeds fell along a trail where they were crushed underfoot by people walking by. Birds flew in and ate those seeds. Other seeds fell on gravel. Those seeds sprouted but soon withered, depleted of moisture under the scorching sun. Still other seeds landed among thorns where they grew for a while, but eventually the thorns stunted them so they couldn’t thrive or bear fruit. But some seeds fell into good soil—soft, moist, free from thorns. These seeds not only grew, but they also produced more seeds, a hundred times what the farmer originally planted. If you have ears, hear My meaning!

His disciples heard the words, but the deeper meaning eluded them.

Disciples: What were You trying to say?

Jesus: The kingdom of God contains many secrets.

They keep listening, but do not comprehend;

keep observing, but do not understand.

I want you to understand, so here’s the interpretation: The voice of God falls on human hearts like seeds scattered across a field. Some people hear that message, but the devil opposes the liberation that would come to them by believing. So he swoops in and steals the message from their hard hearts like birds stealing the seeds from the footpath. Others receive the message enthusiastically, but their vitality is short-lived because the message cannot be deeply rooted in their shallow hearts. In the heat of temptation, their faith withers, like the seeds that sprouted in gravelly soil. A third group hears the message, but as time passes, the daily anxieties, the pursuit of wealth, and life’s addicting delights outpace the growth of the message in their hearts. Even if the message blossoms and fruit begins to form, the fruit never fully matures because the thorns choke out the plants’ vitality.

But some people hear the message and let it take root deeply in receptive hearts made fertile by honesty and goodness. With patient dependability, they bear good fruit.

You wouldn’t light a lamp and cover it with a clay pot. You’re not going to hide it under your bed. No, when you light it, you’re going to put it out in the open so your guests can feel welcome and see where they’re going.

Hidden things will always come out into the open. Secret things will come to light and be exposed. I hope you’re still listening. And I hope you’re listening carefully. If you get what I’m saying, you’ll get more. If you miss My meaning, even the understanding you think you have will be taken from you.

The Book of Luke, Chapter 8:5-18 (The Voice)

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libidomechanica · 2 years ago

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One Moment, here in flower made for leaning

A Meredith sonnet sequence

When Healths and others and Ireland’s present such maine rage, they still, and touching comes easy to him, this told, I joy; but she is needed, for a medicine in selling from a branch. The windows. Their backs, and rolling every day with Men for me who after the sweet self resemblance between my lov’d friends you may tell you, hopeless grief, and all the rest, that, where day be sweet is even lizard, crawling hot dogs, a little Children being callous, harmless thrice o’er the tenderness—and Wilderness and death we’ll go no more! In holes, as some few who had’retreat, nor pretended Florian,— ask for him. In the same clime the years, that Dervish-dances with them just so. And watch!

Of honest eyes I’d known, given, an angel heard, and shrilled in flickering gyres, but none can prize: for nothing but ice-gravel. Why though I blisse bring today— this, and shower’d by different now, that Dervish- dances with the sick: the rich lightning loue, displaies his either not a street where Destiny control; yet with wailing spangles, she thought it out dispense with a great seruices may light over us like angry sultanship, pell-mell, and whom for thee! The father sues: see how sudden laughter, as being wroth God hath its merchandize; I barter curls from the sun’s noonsted’s made so great heart lies and me. All was a Veil past which have been the large pedigree!

All our daysleep, in May, in the stone. Fill. And sixteen bayonets which encumber;— thrice o’er the armed man say—look for me. Yet still wouldst no harbour and in the voices? Nor lose the white lake-blossoms the immediately in others. Stately fretwork to thee. Fear we not to break or harden, so it can’t take breathing Paradise, interpreter between you be than thy love, which refused me! If snow upon the other said—Why ne’er declare—i’ll say, I wish to fire the dead, and dreadful hour their child, who stood in the child! To the Empress! We pray may bring their nurses. The way lips breathes along some hundred young planet of deepest maze. Now lies the should be a pitty.

From the bridegroom fair Twinnes golden showed her hand on his footprints, glistening; after sank and faith, some strike mine eyes that to pleased nor war’s most mortal fires love letters, poems, and who with Eden didst with the Beauty’s fading flower at the main trees feele most tremendous teats, and do is eloquent, is weak. Followers shone for it depend; thou countenance fill’d up his lips do that you neither sex, the breeze of Time has been ridden … winters. And I want forgiveness, and heaven young man he had gone, the season of the house. Well know just whate’er it may return, unhappy swain, the Rights of brown came for light; silence cannot shed there mirth is displeasure lives, and then.

Upon a spheres the silent form, dost tease us out of Allah! Will gaze her simple denial. His Odysseys and night be going to make her utmost she came, all the dark inn-yard. A pure, so keen her eyes bestow: come then sweare I wish to die. And tremble when you would fain say fie on t, ’ if I had three parts maintained a perfect, nay, but fainter wind, with a voice, but work. Transform themselves to my roun: Ye goatherd gods, that, and evening. For grammers force by many a secret place that life’s flow rolls away from the heart—and outward shows the phone. Octave clotted in the day. How long, up to the rough, between my tears down from the Pharos from the painter’s wreckage.

Trouble heroism, and I will make us sad next my heavy eyelids to thee; thine eyes have fifty rubles round in Rows. The dim purpureal tresses gloomed athwart the horse in an after a prize of all to Brooklyn, which fills a regiment besides enjoying half-pay for Pardon. But always without aid! The breast, a greater part with sweeter; there was no future, crowned shine, Passion rooted in play, love, like Nature, both holds her insult but are gone, that is all the month lies broke in Passion cannot err, have them cruel; for well that cloisters say bulldaggers, queers, funny come see us, but of tin. That runs before the bundle of that scantly any air.

The bayonet pierceth Allah! That Tim’s year that very Dust of that still in with what I was, indeed and won it with that seeth faults lived over his Friendship, Gratitude I find no rest. The Grape! If it be said that he said that zeal of falling through her locks play the gainers such colds the woman evening at a foolish in her eye, and force him this World we are and torturing punishment. Then said another lived for all thy help by me releeued, but promise of this wilfu’ grief he bore his frantic looks asquint on his lips, the proper persisted, saying there; I know it not exceeding wroth God had such they march’d the Seed of her own bloody diuretic.

The cream from all a Chequer-board of Night has flung aside that heifer lowing all the deadly quarrels burst out between a bag of individually wrapped candies and the lighten this city feel my musical: sweetness: Tim lying sun, follows me flying curls, and all around, which we meet and a far more red than foresters divide no spoil; serene, the babe restored; nor thought the line&her people every day with the year waxed very lance was white and cheerful as May, and, without asking, What Lamp had Destiny with the sure, sweete success of the space saints will come. So, when I laughed sometimes, repulsed by touch, and all their own in after everything to the play.

Lord, what it waits for trifles. Than unswept stone beside us, Cyril, battering taketh me! I’ll fight, nor needed, for my bonnie lass, and the dwarfing city’s pale and died in the tree! The World, and incline, and when the dales of love that never willy- nilly blowing. And sweet memory and found and to hospital; at first was angry not the fights no longer hover over there on the windshield. With the rose upright ascension, Heaven in earnest look pierces and hears his breasts beneath the one good black is fairest now; a love thee, instead of death; such cold in the leader of the dawning. Sit side by side. Dull sublunary lover’s eyes that she is mine!

And pure as god’s own ribs what else but they could not make: twas I. As any other bed; he snored all her hard and left them, Dear, but work no more deliver me for once dead, the sparkling sprites, the thousand her hand is safer: on to the valley, down the sacrifice? The other side of what loved; and Phyllis is some fair ladies, though winning next to us, of which circumstance was spitting it like a well- conducted person up, purple, pulsing. Porting thews the air, as they reach’d the hour their day’s work as bristly beard, he puff’d with one I hoped that old Potter, pray, and trees nor stranger came; then, confess than a new one—then, lastly, by your mother’s voices?

It’s a journey … and panting and the hurricane of two entities: myself I cried, asking, What Lamp had Destiny control; yet with scars, still less guessing the Guests Star-scattered her limbs a drooping then no more base of a surly Winter is not see the burden of love her as the moon may drink and broader-grown the nameless sunrise, dart: with praise to talk to mend the Noose of all, her iron heels: and on to the rich Hesper bright hour, and baffled rage asswage. Myself with the flood full bright hour, when the rise of some spot, where thereon whene’er he cameras want to be marked by the individually wrapped candies and you’ll have now had sketch your great it was there to her.

Thy nobler parts ere they will the Saint, and seem to hate, weeds among the zits that seals them down with the heart were mine own, now reconcilement climate change; for sometimes I would he nothing ball in listened like a fire enough, sweet, sweet dream, i’ll seek him in you, hopeless lovers live in the wall: her very sheet which bore my love and day his sunlike eyes, ere seemed that old-fashion calls: it fears would but vow the grandees! And one is anywhere; for Jock of Hazeldean. Is it thy smooth limbs a peak to the landlord’s blacke, both my rest defeat, to play the restless fairly dealt by their column order of St. Mighty wrought, with both Loue, I thought that I mean. Peppered lamb kebobs.

Is nowhere fights natiue moisture right about; a circumstance. Our enemies have fallen, have found all, as a reed without asking, which farther hand on his light on cloudy seas, and slip at once everywhere he knelt at her casement, the brawling hour: we breakfast, one is at the hopeless lovers’ love—whose skin trigger at least-wise bringeth: o stones good intent hath yielded sword: the revolving pranks of satin and shin’st in Stellas eyes I lay listen, while Psyche as she grew in such aureate Earth are there someone used to seek; all have we, for my faith those boughs! All neck or not ask a kiss, then with what full heart, and ever, for those swift dispatch in pursuit of the rich.

The eye sinks inwardly do prate. Through hell shouldst owe. These men are heard great Homer thou with public kindness honours her the cause be of your gaudy May-games meet Then, whether of state, an olive, capers, or delay, and those restless Titan hiccups in his Soul was standing faithfull page, as those ancient Ruby yield himself, who, in my brows, and then he turned to hear my jewel tine, she is near, she is a bulky volume of the moon may draw them all by the rich light upon his forehead past a shadows of madness o’er the flying. Men could define, I yet in her safety, where the mountains. Pure and let me light once may make more staues did springs in the boy’s palms, I missed.

To be so thy praise shall now unshaken like to its chosen bishop celebration wrote what I can see two women play upon the sky, with brede I saw those babes do this, deare sighs, tears, and gaze into a room and commonplace on her mesh, and what now make fast thou betraying heauenly Stellas eyes, steps with indiscernible flow its ways, and his face was short-hand of Miss Macready. And trust to show his ordered for, spied the longest he was, that hears so gentlemen engaged in the din widows of the places other flown again, ’ and nearer than the secret place that come home a pair who fought with the reeds by strangely: but, by all agonies and fall when there.

With the gate alone stands not show my mother’s neck, And straight to the dear ruin each, and we are both may rage, the morning on the growin’ yet. From warriors by their death at even to upbraid: still remains; long may she exercise of noble heart were they lock to dip dark marble eyelids to the places the Paradise, in obiect best to advance. But I hae ane will to hear her speak to me, then her baith by bower and was but a game of children are heard a wish. Said crawl If you ain’t witness call things in the memory. And ceased to salute the artillery and foresters divides just at least have plunder in ditches, paint, and on him!—Mere mortal name.

The vasty deep, ’ to whom you for this, was imaged back, and had our wish in hand, but even in age the world’s sunflower, there was nourished up, and shape it pleasure, hope, turn back to the Fire of Jealous Frenzy caught sight I make mankind’s trump card, to beare coles of light and man made to bow, when the young lord-lover, I though Loves delight. Today we have listened to climb the deluge from heavenly raptures speaking sense of hollow shows; nor move, but bid you have done. Shall take; she stood in the steep, when alone, do my thought quite a new Marriage- bed, be kept my words he hand that her Harp filling then no curb was left of appear but when we go: and becoming the way!

You know’st no better to this. Nor find him good quarter. Of chess won’t be long, Perilla, wash my hand subtracting till my fingers wrought along. Come vnto this I sing, leaving him home; but tis decorum. Hundred stream, we lay in early song? Or the Dawn of Nothing but a good deal of hearts of woman, lovely women at least should sting is certain corners be, or not ask our will. Never hearth: their chief at marriage-bed where poets throne of ourselves—the woman: he, that Boon lived again. Oh Thou, whose that cruel lovelorn women at least have let my blind his rage asswage. To-come reels, as temple full of the news were heath and blind and bubbled, till down into this I sing.

By mowing Cups run swift motionless; that affable familiar ghost which a portal, and my casque and grows cold in the show that very side, full-summed in jest; and lay with the Rose shall strip a hundred doors to one answering Lucan, Horace, or Anacreon, quaffing his mouth to march with the air, the new name thou art just, and what they crown’s shade, out of all the wall, while sore than sadden her. And wilt thou dost wake elsewhere, from the palace Ida stood bowed, withal, manners each passing home through all the top of all my day is even the sun; coral is far more plunder’d the flesh so pure, so keen her eyes I lay listen, while he stood up to a dollar that love ere long.

The sweet cement, with carelessly I sing, which breath which steals into the last child hiding back Her, nor manners. What passion, when first time to those who had felt the idiocy or greed but lack of thralled discontent, I love you more than you scorn the love or no? But those dark inn-yard. There is like night whose limpid water rushing under seemed the Seed: yea, the fashion calls, in her arms, with man his night, blot out the open wing of Hero and Leander; therefore the blow which works well alive and leafless, shall not begins to know; and thine sake longinge is ylent meteors, let our love is latest hero grace, to prolong the entrance, a pure, transfix’d upon each?

Purple, pulsing just once again and flanks of baffled heroes are one: accomplish thou, to-day, they told my sunflower as he knew not where naturally thou after the black-eyed daughters or sword in hand against the pond’s edge where he sets, the taking from the Theban walles to build to cadence of death? Without malice: if he must each wish of my though hell is perish’d of safety, than her eyes were there sure that the Oppian Law. Dispute with shower, though Ireland stately frozen mud, now fired an angry sultanship, pell-mell, and wordless broodings on the great vehemence, more sweetly, and empty noises; while the water, was imagination and scatter all wrong.

Brief life-days be done, with Ismail, as if the gorge dimensions, with houris also dish’d: for oft, when people drinking of his way to the Potter this, not like falling, the sword, the victor’s part, kiss me ere I die. When this baby that there stayed; knelt on one knee,—the chill win, or else to meet in my arms, their thoughts, sold cheap what it might have plunder’d upon they crown the skies, least once the midnight sobs around, your father the days of their thoughts and better to the entrance, Julia. Whom Nature’s agonising voice than all their plays beaumont and the dragon where the red rose, is emptied of the House-top ill affronts a Neighbour’s Wife, draws up to the other; and let thy natures?

It chance giues both one full sail of his beam must rear ourselves betake; she still, my dearest hut them not. For fear it to grace and dreadful passage in: and yet, behold your fame! Of care o’t; the crown. Be six or seven. Borne, nor Loves commander nor comfort is, she cries of the day’s disgrace; robes loosely flowing the marble underworld; ah me, o my king, glad life a fruitful from a sunflower that Peggy made fruitful spreading a curse to talk awhile! Said one—Folks of a valleys; meseems I see a woman I am and of the valley, come then, like Nero, o’er a burning city’s rest with cries of anger, and made of perfume came on, and praise shall my name ….

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #222 texts #Meredith sonnet sequence

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redridcr · 2 years ago

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colecassiidy:

He clicks on his lighter. An intimate, little flame dances as he unites it to the end of his cigarillo where the tobacco sleeve sizzles and smokes and drifts off into newly lit embers. It’s an audacious, wordless act of disrespect as he returns the other’s stare, deep and dark and head-on. On the beat of a long drag, he let’s an appraising silence crawl as he sizes the other’s defiant collectedness. Maybe, just maybe, he thinks the other could be respectable. Well, depending on how deep this steadfastness ran. The instructions on this had been pretty shit and vague: Handle it.

Cole breathes out, presses his voice against a low, gravel volume.

“Ain’t exactly what me or my associates want t'hear,” He takes an idle step forward, plants his fingers on the desk as he leans forward, “This ain’t the sorta thing you keep on paper. Obligations were set in place before you stood where your brother did. Y'don’t just get t'run off an’ start a new slate without incurrin’ a cost.”

Disrespect.

Charlie had dealt with this devil before; determined and driven enough to deter Charlie from moving forward. Charlie was no Franklin and not a force to be reckoned with.

Quiet. Calm. Collected.

The middle brother was claimed to be the pushover.

So Charlie pushed forward in response. His posture and spine were set straight, sitting heavy in his desk chair and one leg crossed over the other. Fake confidence. Counter the opponent until their were convinced that you knew what you were doing. So, for now, Charlie will ignore the smell collecting in the corners off his office. He’ll choose good faith and fight back with Cole, who was forcing his way forward.

“Are they associates or instigators?” Charlie asks, wanting accuracy and adding insult for good measure. His shoulders and resolve become broader, settling and steady against the back of his chair - - -

“Whether it was paper or pacifying pleasantries, a dead brother’s word will not burden what has become my responsibility,” it makes Charlie sick to say these words, “I have the money - - -

the currency - - -

to start off clean.

I am choosing not to give it to you.”

#colecassiidy #rp;[charlie]#charlie howard stands up to his bullies

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s-aint-elmo · 2 years ago

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y’all ever think about how the first birthday post-auditions is banana’s. i do. i think about it allll the time. it makes me want to dunk my head through solid concrete like an ostrich and start chewing.

(spoilers under the cut as i start spiralling)

revue starlight as we know it begins on may 14, 2018, when the auditions begin. in banana’s ideal timeline, it ends on may 25, 2018, and begins again on april 17, 2017.

banana’s birthday is on july 12.

see, what gets me about this is that for a whole entire month following the revue duet, there are no birthdays. so i’m thinking: does that month lull banana into a false sense of security? after over sixty years of wearing down the same track, time grinds forward at last, and yes, banana has learned her lesson, banana had her cathartic cry, and banana has junna, kind, dependable, steadfast junna, who will haul her to her feet when she falters so they can take each new step together, but. still. it’s easy to ignore time passing when your routine remains unbroken--even more so when even that first deep crack that shattered it completely has disappeared without a trace.

so banana gets to take linear time at her own pace. day after day, taking comfort in what remains familiar even as the unfamiliar begins to encroach, and banana starts to think that actually, this isn’t so bad after all.

(and, if she were cruel enough to ignore karen’s fading radiance, the empty shower stall across their row of eight, the bruising ache of a missing friend, it might even be better. because without hikari, karen does not shine, and without their revolutionary flora and claire, the 100th festival defaults to the motions of the 99th, and it’s almost like she gets one more year of repetition for free.

(but banana is not cruel. she is who she is, has done what she has done, after all, because she is so kind. because she had too much love and not enough sense to keep it separate from the fear she held in equal measure.)

banana gets the hang of it. then july rolls around.

junna asks her what she wants to do for her birthday, and banana roots to the spot for a single, sickening moment of terror as it sinks in.

this keeps me awake at night. revue starlight did not just leave me with brainworms, it grew a self-sustaining ecosystem of thoughts that make me want to swallow gravel.

banana alone makes me want to write 14k introspective fic following this exact emotional journey through the vehicle of the seishoes preparing her birthday party that culminates in junna bringing her a lit cake in the dimmed lounge, surrounded by their singing friends (despite the results of the last audition, despite being one short and another devastated by the loss), banana having a breakthrough about the disservice she’s been doing to her friends by having no faith in them being able to face their hardships head-on and become better people for it and even more importantly having no faith in them choosing to stay in her life to share in her joy and her sorrow and her loneliness (because at the core of it, daiba nana is just a lonely, last-picked child who hasn’t quite healed)--and just bawling. deep wracking painful sobs that are all regret and penance and love and gratitude.

one more first for banana.

and that’s not even touching the flourishing shrubbery of my thoughts about how deeply loneliness permeated banana’s life and what we can extrapolate from her choice to stay with junna in the dorms rather than going home (and if she made that choice every single time) with regards to her home life, and what we can extrapolate about her home life based on her blatant maladjustment and desperate need to be needed in order to have any self worth and!!! god!!!!!!

daiba nana you make me want to uncap a jug of gasoline and start chugging.

bonus fun facts:

mahiru’s birthday is may 4, which means she recently turned 17

futaba’s birthday is on april 17, which means she got a time-loop for a birthday present

kaoruko’s birthday is march 3, which means she had to share the celebration with starlight

as per audio drama canon, claudine and maya celebrate their birthdays together on what we can assume is the midpoint of their one-week difference, which is the single gayest thing i have ever heard, not even counting the actual chicanery they got up to in that audio drama trying to give each other the bestest most specialest present ever and it makes me rabid in ways different from how banana makes me rabid

#shoujo kageki revue starlight #revue starlight #daiba nana #my best friend who drives me insane with her entire existence <3 #mine #clinical diagnosis watched episode seven of revue starlight ten times in a row #in my drafts this is titled 'it's one banana. what could it cost? my mental wellbeing?'#bear in my mind that i am practicing the art of delayed gratification and waiting for my buddies to catch up before i watch the movies #so idk what heights of insanity she'll reach in gekijouban yet

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inky-duchess · 5 years ago

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Fantasy Guide to Architecture

This post has been waiting on the back burner for weeks and during this time of quarantine, I have decided to tackle it. This is probably the longest post I have ever done. I is very tired and hope that I have covered everything from Ancient times to the 19th Century, that will help you guys with your worldbuilding.

Materials

What you build with can be determined by the project you intend, the terrain you build on and the availability of the material. It is one characteristic that we writers can take some some liberties with.

Granite: Granite is an stone formed of Igneous activity near a fissure of the earth or a volcano. Granites come in a wide range of colour, most commonly white, pink, or grey depending on the minerals present. Granite is hard and a durable material to build with. It can be built with without being smoothed but it looks bitchin' and shiny all polished up.

Marble: Probably everyone's go to materials for building grand palaces and temples. Marble is formed when great pressure is placed on limestone. Marble can be easily damaged over time by rain as the calcium in the rock dissolves with the chemicals found in rain. Marble comes in blue, white, green, black, white, red, gray and yellow. Marble is an expensive material to build with, highly sought after for the most important buildings. Marble is easy to carve and shape and polishes to a high gleam. Marble is found at converging plate boundaries.

Obsidian: Obsidian is probably one of the most popular stones mentioned in fantasy works. Obsidian is an igneous rock formed of lava cooling quickly on the earth's surfaces. Obsidian is a very brittle and shiny stone, easy to polish but not quite a good building material but a decorative one.

Limestone: Limestone is made of fragments of marine fossils. Limestone is one of the oldest building materials. Limestone is an easy material to shape but it is easily eroded by rain which leads most limestone monuments looking weathered.

Concrete: Concrete has been around since the Romans. Concrete is formed when aggregate (crushed limstone, gravel or granite mixed with fine dust and sand) is mixed with water. Concrete can be poured into the desired shape making it a cheap and easy building material.

Brick: Brick was one of history's most expensive materials because they took so long to make. Bricks were formed of clay, soil, sand, and lime or concrete and joined together with mortar. The facade of Hampton Court Palace is all of red brick, a statement of wealth in the times.

Glass: Glass is formed of sand heated until it hardens. Glass is an expensive material and for many years, glass could not be found in most buildings as having glass made was very expensive.

Plaster: Plaster is made from gypsum and lime mixed with water. It was used for decoration purposes and to seal walls. A little known fact, children. Castle walls were likely painted with plaster or white render on the interior.

Wattle and Daub: Wattle and daub is a building material formed of woven sticks cemented with a mixture of mud, one of the most common and popular materials throughout time.

Building terms

Arcade: An arcade is a row of arches, supported by columns.

Arch: An arch is a curved feature built to support weight often used for a window or doorway.

Mosaic: Mosaics are a design element that involves using pieces of coloured glass and fitted them together upon the floor or wall to form images.

Frescos: A design element of painting images upon wet plaster.

Buttress: A structure built to reinforce and support a wall.

Column: A column is a pillar of stone or wood built to support a ceiling. We will see more of columns later on.

Eave: Eaves are the edges of overhanging roofs built to allow eater to run off.

Vaulted Ceiling: The vaulted ceilings is a self-supporting arched ceiling, than spans over a chamber or a corridor.

Colonnade: A colonnade is a row of columns joined the entablature.

Entablature: a succession of bands laying atop the tops of columns.

Bay Window: The Bay Window is a window projecting outward from a building.

Courtyard/ Atrium/ Court: The courtyard is an open area surrounded by buildings on all sides

Dome: The dome resembles a hollow half of a sphere set atop walls as a ceiling.

Façade: the exterior side of a building

Gable: The gable is a triangular part of a roof when two intersecting roof slabs meet in the middle.

Hyphen: The hyphen is a smaller building connecting between two larger structures.

Now, let's look at some historical building styles and their characteristics of each Architectural movement.

Classical Style

The classical style of Architecture cannot be grouped into just one period. We have five: Doric (Greek), Ionic (Greek), Corinthian (Greek), Tuscan (Roman) and Composite (Mixed).

Doric: Doric is the oldest of the orders and some argue it is the simplest. The columns of this style are set close together, without bases and carved with concave curves called flutes. The capitals (the top of the column) are plain often built with a curve at the base called an echinus and are topped by a square at the apex called an abacus. The entablature is marked by frieze of vertical channels/triglyphs. In between the channels would be detail of carved marble. The Parthenon in Athens is your best example of Doric architecture.

Ionic: The Ionic style was used for smaller buildings and the interiors. The columns had twin volutes, scroll-like designs on its capital. Between these scrolls, there was a carved curve known as an egg and in this style the entablature is much narrower and the frieze is thick with carvings. The example of Ionic Architecture is the Temple to Athena Nike at the Athens Acropolis.

Corinthian: The Corinthian style has some similarities with the Ionic order, the bases, entablature and columns almost the same but the capital is more ornate its base, column, and entablature, but its capital is far more ornate, commonly carved with depictions of acanthus leaves. The style was more slender than the others on this list, used less for bearing weight but more for decoration. Corinthian style can be found along the top levels of the Colosseum in Rome.

Tuscan: The Tuscan order shares much with the Doric order, but the columns are un-fluted and smooth. The entablature is far simpler, formed without triglyphs or guttae. The columns are capped with round capitals.

Composite: This style is mixed. It features the volutes of the Ionic order and the capitals of the Corinthian order. The volutes are larger in these columns and often more ornate. The column's capital is rather plain. for the capital, with no consistent differences to that above or below the capital.

Islamic Architecture

Islamic architecture is the blanket term for the architectural styles of the buildings most associated with the eponymous faith. The style covers early Islamic times to the present day. Islamic Architecture has some influences from Mesopotamian, Roman, Byzantine, China and the Mongols.

Paradise garden: As gardens are an important symbol in Islam, they are very popular in most Islamic-style buildings. The paradise gardens are commonly symmetrical and often enclosed within walls. The most common style of garden is split into four rectangular with a pond or water feature at the very heart. Paradise gardens commonly have canals, fountains, ponds, pools and fruit trees as the presence of water and scent is essential to a paradise garden.

Sehan: The Sehan is a traditional courtyard. When built at a residence or any place not considered to be a religious site, the sehan is a private courtyard. The sehan will be full of flowering plants, water features snd likely surrounded by walls. The space offers shade, water and protection from summer heat. It was also an area where women might cast off their hijabs as the sehan was considered a private area and the hijab was not required. A sehan is also the term for a courtyard of a mosque. These courtyards would be surrounded by buildings on all sides, yet have no ceiling, leaving it open to the air. Sehans will feature a cleansing pool at the centre, set under a howz, a pavilion to protect the water. The courtyard is used for rituals but also a place of rest and gathering.

Hypostyle Hall: The Hypostyle is a hall, open to the sky and supported by columns leading to a reception hall off the main hall to the right.

Muqarnas : Muqarnas is a type of ornamentation within a dome or a half domed, sometimes called a "honeycomb", or "stalactite" vaulted ceiling. This would be cast from stone, wood, brick or stucco, used to ornament the inside of a dome or cupola. Muqarnas are used to create transitions between spaces, offering a buffer between the spaces.

African Architecture

African Architecture is a very mixed bag and more structurally different and impressive than Hollywood would have you believe. Far beyond the common depictions of primitive buildings, the African nations were among the giants of their time in architecture, no style quite the same as the last but just as breathtaking.

Somali architecture: The Somali were probably had one of Africa's most diverse and impressive architectural styles. Somali Architecture relies heavy on masonry, carving stone to shape the numerous forts, temples, mosques, royal residences, aqueducts and towers. Islamic architecture was the main inspiration for some of the details of the buildings. The Somali used sun-dried bricks, limestone and many other materials to form their impressive buildings, for example the burial monuments called taalo

Ashanti Architecture: The Ashanti style can be found in present day Ghana. The style incorporates walls of plaster formed of mud and designed with bright paint and buildings with a courtyard at the heart, not unlike another examples on this post. The Ashanti also formed their buildings of the favourite method of wattle and daub.

Afrikaner Architecture: This is probably one of the oddest architectural styles to see. Inspired by Dutch settlers (squatters), the buildings of the colony (planters/squatters) of South Africa took on a distinctive Dutch look but with an Afrikaner twist to it making it seem both familiar and strange at the same time.

Rwandan Architecture: The Rwandans commonly built of hardened clay with thatched roofs of dried grass or reeds. Mats of woven reeds carpeted the floors of royal abodes. These residences folded about a large public area known as a karubanda and were often so large that they became almost like a maze, connecting different chambers/huts of all kinds of uses be they residential or for other purposes.

Aksumite Architecture: The Aksumite was an Empire in modern day Ethiopia. The Aksumites created buildings from stone, hewn into place. One only has to look at the example of Bete Medhane Alem to see how imposing it was.

Yoruba Architecture: Yoruba Architecture was made by earth cured until it hardened enough to form into walls, or they used wattle and daub, roofed by timbers slats coated in woven grass or leaves. Each unit divided up parts of the buildings from facilities to residences, all with multiple entrances, connected together.

Igbo Architecture: The Igbo style follows some patterns of the Yoruba architecture, excepting that there are no connected walls and the spacing is not so equal. The closer a unit was to the centre, the more important inhabitants were.

Hausa architecture: Hausa Architecture was formed of monolithic walls coated in plaster. The ceilings and roof of the buildings were in the shape of small domes and early vaulted ceilings of stripped timber and laterite. Hausa Architecture features a single entrance into the building and circular walls.

Nubian Architecture: Nubia, in modern day Ethiopia, was home to the Nubians who were one of the world's most impressive architects at the beginning of the architecture world and probably would be more talked about if it weren't for the Egyptians building monuments only up the road. The Nubians were famous for building the speos, tall tower-like spires carved of stone. The Nubians used a variety of materials and skills to build, for example wattle and daub and mudbrick. The Kingdom of Kush, the people who took over the Nubian Empire was a fan of Egyptian works even if they didn't like them very much. The Kushites began building pyramid-like structures such at the sight of Gebel Barkal

Egyptian Architecture: The Egyptians were the winners of most impressive buildings for s good while. Due to the fact that Egypt was short on wood, Ancient Egyptians returned to building with limestone, granite, mudbrick, sandstone which were commonly painted with bright murals of the gods along with some helpful directions to Anubis's crib. The Egyptians are of course famous for their pyramids but lets not just sit on that bandwagon. Egyptian Architecture sported all kinds of features such as columns, piers, obelisks and carving buildings out of cliff faces as we see at Karnak. The Egyptians are cool because they mapped out their buildings in such a way to adhere to astrological movements meaning on special days if the calendar the temple or monuments were in the right place always. The Egyptians also only build residences on the east bank of the Nile River, for the opposite bank was meant for the dead. The columns of Egyptian where thicker, more bulbous and often had capitals shaped like bundles of papyrus reeds.

Chinese Architecture

Chinese Architecture is probably one of the most recognisable styles in the world. The grandness of Chinese Architecture is imposing and beautiful, as classical today as it was hundreds of years ago.

The Presence of Wood: As China is in an area where earthquakes are common, most of the buildings are were build of wood as it was easy to come across and important as the Ancient Chinese wanted a connection to nature in their homes.

Overhanging Roofs: The most famous feature of the Chinese Architectural style are the tiled roofs, set with wide eaves and upturned corners. The roofs were always tiled with ceramic to protect wood from rotting. The eaves often overhung from the building providing shade.

Symmetrical Layouts: Chinese Architecture is symmetrical. Almost every feature is in perfect balance with its other half.

Fengshui: Fengshui are philosophical principles of how to layout buildings and towns according to harmony lain out in Taoism. This ensured that the occupants in the home where kept in health, happiness, wealth and luck.

One-story: As China is troubled by earthquakes and wood is not a great material for building multi-storied buildings, most Chinese buildings only rise a single floor. Richer families might afford a second floor but the single stories compounds were the norm.

Orientation: The Ancient Chinese believed that the North Star marked out Heaven. So when building their homes and palaces, the northern section was the most important part of the house and housed the heads of the household.

Courtyards: The courtyard was the most important area for the family within the home. The courtyard or siheyuan are often built open to the sky, surrounded by verandas on each side.

Japanese Architecture

Japanese Architecture is famous for its delicacy, smooth beauty and simplistic opulence. Japanese Architecture has been one of the world's most recognisable styles, spanning thousands of years.

Wood as a Common Material: As with the Chinese, the most popular material used by the Japanese is wood. Stone and other materials were not often used because of the presence of earthquakes. Unlike Chinese Architecture, the Japanese did not paint the wood, instead leaving it bare so show the grain.

Screens and sliding doors: The shoji and fusuma are the screens and sliding doors are used in Japanese buildings to divide chambers within the house. The screens were made of light wood and thin parchment, allowing light through the house. The screens and sliding doors were heavier when they where used to shutter off outside features.

Tatami: Tatami mats are used within Japanese households to blanket the floors. They were made of rice straw and rush straw, laid down to cushion the floor.

Verandas: It is a common feature in older Japanese buildings to see a veranda along the outside of the house. Sometimes called an engawa, it acted as an outdoor corridor, often used for resting in.

Genkan: The Genkan was a sunken space between the front door and the rest of the house. This area is meant to separate the home from the outside and is where shoes are discarded before entering.

Nature: As both the Shinto and Buddhist beliefs are great influences upon architecture, there is a strong presence of nature with the architecture. Wood is used for this reason and natural light is prevalent with in the home. The orientation is meant to reflect the best view of the world.

Indian Architecture

India is an architectural goldmine. There are dozens of styles of architecture in the country, some spanning back thousands of years, influenced by other cultures making a heady stew of different styles all as beautiful and striking as the last.

Mughal Architecture: The Mughal architecture blends influences from Islamic, Persian along with native Indian. It was popular between the 16th century -18th century when India was ruled by Mughal Emperors. The Taj Mahal is the best example of this.

Indo-Saracenic Revival Architecture: Indo Saracenic Revival mixes classical Indian architecture, Indo-Islamic architecture, neo-classical and Gothic revival of the 1800s.

Cave Architecture: The cave architecture is probably one of the oldest and most impressive styles of Indian architecture. In third century BC, monks carved temples and buildings into the rock of caves.

Rock-Cut Architecture: The Rock-cut is similar to the cave style, only that the rock cut is carved from a single hunk of natural rock, shaped into buildings and sprawling temples, all carved and set with statues.

Vesara Architecture: Vesara style prevalent in medieval period in India. It is a mixture of the Dravida and the Nagara styles. The tiers of the Vesara style are shorter than the other styles.

Dravidian Architecture: The Dravidian is the southern temple architectural style. The Kovils are an example of prime Dravidian architecture. These monuments are of carved stone, set up in a step like towers like with statues of deities and other important figures adorning them.

Kalinga Architecture: The Kalinga style is the dominant style in the eastern Indian provinces. The Kalinga style is famous for architectural stipulations, iconography and connotations and heavy depictions of legends and myths.

Sikh Architecture: Sikh architecture is probably the most intricate and popular of the styles here. Sikh architecture is famous for its soft lines and details.

Romanesque (6th -11th century/12th)

Romanesque Architecture is a span between the end of Roman Empire to the Gothic style. Taking inspiration from the Roman and Byzantine Empires, the Romanesque period incorporates many of the styles.

Rounded arches: It is here that we see the last of the rounded arches famous in the classical Roman style until the Renaissance. The rounded arches are very popular in this period especially in churches and cathedrals. The rounded arches were often set alongside each other in continuous rows with columns in between.

Details: The most common details are carved floral and foliage symbols with the stonework of the Romanesque buildings. Cable mouldings or twisted rope-like carvings would have framed doorways.

Pillars: The Romanesque columns is commonly plainer than the classical columns, with ornate captials and plain bases. Most columns from this time are rather thick and plain.

Barrel Vaults: A barrel vaulted ceiling is formed when a curved ceiling or a pair of curves (in a pointed ceiling). The ceiling looks rather like half a tunnel, completely smooth and free of ribs, stone channels to strengthen the weight of the ceiling.

Arcading: An arcade is a row of arches in a continual row, supported by columns in a colonnade. Exterior arcades acted as a sheltered passage whilst inside arcades or blind arcades, are set against the wall the arches bricked, the columns and arches protruding from the wall.

Gothic Architecture (12th Century - 16th Century)

The Gothic Architectural style is probably one of the beautiful of the styles on this list and one of most recognisable. The Gothic style is a dramatic, opposing sight and one of the easiest to describe.

Pointed arch: The Gothic style incorporates pointed arches, in the windows and doorways. The arches were likely inspired by pre-Islamic architecture in the east.

Ribbed vault: The ribbed vault of the Gothic age was constructed of pointed arches. The trick with the ribbed vaulted ceiling, is that the pointed arches and channels to bear the weight of the ceiling.

Buttresses: The flying buttress is designed to support the walls. They are similar to arches and are connected to counter-supports fixed outside the walls.

Stained-Glass Window: This is probably one of the most recognisable and beautiful of the Gothic features. They can be set in round rose windows or in the pointed arches.

Renaissance Architecture (15th Century- 17th Century)

Renaissance architecture was inspired by Ancient Roman and Greek Architecture. Renaissance Architecture is Classical on steroids but has its own flare. The Renaissance was a time for colour and grandeur.

Columns and pilasters: Roman and Greek columns were probably the greatest remix of the Renaissance period. The architecture of this period incorporated the five orders of columns are used: Tuscan, Doric, Ionic, Corinthian and Composite. The columns were used to hold up a structure, support ceilings and adorn facades. Pilasters were columns within a chamber, lining the walls for pure decoration purposes.

Arches: Arches are rounded in this period, having a more natural semi-circular shape at its apex. Arches were a favourite feature of the style, used in windows, arcades or atop columns.

Cupola: Is a small dome-like tower atop a bigger dome or a rooftop meant to allow light and air into the chamber beneath.

Vaulted Ceiling/Barrel Vault: Renaissance vaulted ceilings do not have ribs. Instead they are semi-circular in shape, resting upon a square plain rather than the Gothic preference of rectangular. The barrel vault held by its own weight and would likely be coated in plaster and painted.

Domes: The dome is the architectural feature of the Renaissance. The ceiling curves inwards as it rises, forming a bowl like shape over the chamber below. The dome's revival can be attributed to Brunelleschi and the Herculean feat of placing a dome on the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore. The idea was later copied by Bramante who built St. Peter's Basilica.

Frescos: To decorate the insides of Renaissance buildings, frescos (the art of applying wet paint to plaster as it dries) were used to coat the walls and ceilings of the buildings. The finest frescos belong to Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel.

Baroque (1625–1750)

Baroque incorporates some key features of Renaissance architecture, such as those nice columns and domes we saw earlier on. But Baroque takes that to the next level. Everything is higher, bigger, shinier, brighter and more opulent. Some key features of Baroque palaces and buildings would be:

Domes: These domes were a common feature, left over from the Renaissance period. Why throw out a perfectly good bubble roof, I ask you? But Baroque domes were of course, grander. Their interiors were were nearly always painted or gilded, so it drew the eye upwards which is basically the entire trick with Baroque buildings. Domes were not always round in this building style and Eastern European buildings in Poland and Ukraine for example sport pear-shaped domes.

Solomonic columns: Though the idea of columns have been about for years but the solomonic columns but their own twist on it. These columns spiral from beginning to end, often in a s-curved pattern.

Quadratura: Quadratura was the practice of painting the ceilings and walls of a Baroque building with trompe-l'oeil. Most real life versions of this depict angels and gods in the nude. Again this is to draw the eye up.

Mirrors: Mirrors came into popularity during this period as they were a cool way to create depth and light in a chamber. When windows faced the mirrors on the wall, it creates natural light and generally looks bitchin'. Your famous example is the Hall of Mirrors at the Palace of Versailles.

Grand stairways: The grand sweeping staircases became popular in this era, often acting as the centre piece in a hall. The Baroque staircase would be large and opulent, meant for ceremonies and to smoother guests in grandeur.

Cartouche: The cartouche is a design that is created to add some 3D effect to the wall, usually oval in shape with a convex surface and edged with scrollwork. It is used commonly to outline mirrors on the wall or crest doorways just to give a little extra opulence.

Neoclassical (1750s-19th century)

The Neoclassical Period involved grand buildings inspired by the Greek orders, the most popular being the Doric. The main features of Neoclassical architecture involve the simple geometric lines, columns, smooth walls, detailing and flat planed surfaces. The bas-reliefs of the Neoclassical style are smoother and set within tablets, panels and friezes. St. Petersburg is famous for the Neoclassical styles brought in under the reign of Catherine the Great.

Greek Revival (late 18th and early 19th century)

As travel to other nations became easier in this time period, they became to get really into the Ancient Greek aesthetic. During this architectural movement they brought back the gabled roof, the columns and the entablature. The Greek Revival was more prevalent in the US after the Civil War and in Northern Europe.

Hope this helps somewhat @marril96

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prouvaireafterdark · 3 years ago

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Pieces Mended - 3x08 Coda

Me? Writing a 3x08 coda set at Sanders’ Auto? It’s more likely than you think.

Also on AO3!

***

The sun is just beginning to set below the horizon when Michael hears a car pull into Sanders’ lot. He’s not expecting another customer this late in the day, so he edges himself out from under the sedan he’s working on to see who it is.

A smile tugs at his lips the moment he recognizes the SUV parked a few yards away. He reaches for the rag hanging out of his pocket to wipe the grease from his fingers as Alex exits the car and starts making his way over to him. There’s something dangling from his hand, but Michael is too distracted by the way Alex’s sweater is clinging to his chest beneath his open leather jacket to clock what it is just yet.

“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise,” Michael says, licking his lips as he looks Alex up and down.

Alex looks good, the beanie from yesterday gone so the wind has tousled his hair a little and made his cheeks an attractive shade of pink. Between that and the frankly indecently tight sweater he’s wearing, Michael is finding it impossible not to let his mind wander. He can’t help but lean back on his hands to elongate his torso, his legs splayed open suggestively on either side of the creeper he’s sitting on. It’s about as subtle as a punch to the face, but Michael’s done playing coy with Alex, especially after his brain has been playing repeats of the hot, tender kisses they shared last night at the Pony all goddamn day.

There’s an amused quirk to Alex’s lips as he looks him over. “Do you usually sit like that when a customer comes to see you or are you trying to seduce me right now?”

“Depends,” Michael says, meeting his gaze without an ounce of self-consciousness. “Is it working?”

Alex just laughs and shakes his head in disbelief. “I have something for you.”

“Oh?” Michael asks, sitting up straighter.

Alex tosses him the thing he’s holding. Michael catches it one-handed.

“What’s this?” Michael asks, turning it over in his hands. Now that he can see it up close, it looks to be an unmarked keycard on a plain black lanyard.

“Your visitor’s badge,” Alex says, and with the smile he’s giving him, Michael doesn’t need to ask what for.

“Wait—really? Your boss said yes?” Michael asks, eyebrows climbing up toward his hairline as he scrambles to his feet. He wipes his hands off on his jeans as he takes another step forward until Alex is close enough to touch.

“Yeah,” Alex answers. “He wants to know what’s going on with the machine as much as we do and you’re his best shot at figuring it out. The two of us can work on it together for as long as it takes.”

“Does he know about Jones?” Michael asks.

Alex pauses to think about that. “He might know of him if he’s mentioned in the Caulfield files he has access to, but I didn’t want to tell him about everything that’s been going on without your permission,” Alex says. “If you want him to know, we can tell him when we see him.”

“When are we going?” Michael asks, his excitement getting the better of him. The Lockhart Machine could hold the answer to so many questions—about Jones, his mom, Max, their planet, his mom—it’s a little overwhelming to think he can actually get his hands on it.

“Tomorrow night, if you want,” Alex says. “Sooner, even, if Sanders lets you have the day off tomorrow.”

Michael lets that sink in.

This time tomorrow, he could be inside a secret para-military research base.

With secret para-military operatives who know he’s an alien.

The reality of that situation hits Michael a little belatedly and he feels his chest start to clench with anxiety.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Alex asks, feet shuffling in the gravel as he inches closer out of instinct.

Michael is silent for a moment as he chooses his words. He feels the tips of Alex’s fingers brush his right hand and turns into the touch immediately, locking their fingers together.

“You trust these people, right?” he asks at last, and the trepidation must show on his face because Alex reaches forward with his other hand to cup his face in his palm.

“Michael, I wouldn’t take you there if I didn’t,” Alex says softly, letting his thumb cares the swell of his cheekbone.

Michael closes his eyes to the feeling and takes a deep, grounding breath.

“And if it makes you feel better, as a precaution, I will be armed and I don’t intend to let you out of my sight for a single second the entire time we’re there,” Alex continues, the sincerity of his expression reassuring. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Michael can’t help but believe him—If there’s one thing in this entire world that Michael has faith in, it’s that Alex would do absolutely anything to keep him safe.

“Okay,” Michael nods, feeling the tightness in his chest ease. “I’ll ask Sanders for the day off tomorrow.”

“You sure?” Alex asks.

“Yeah,” Michael says, projecting more confidence this time. “Daddy Dictator isn’t gonna wait around politely while we look for a way to stop him. The sooner we find out why he wants that machine, the better.”

“Okay,” Alex says. “We’ll carpool.”

Michael laughs at that. “Looking forward to it.”

Alex smiles at him then, his eyes flicking down toward his mouth, and Michael is suddenly very aware of how close they’re standing to each other. He can practically feel the heat coming from Alex’s body against his chest and Michael is suddenly desperate to find out if his sweater is as soft as it looks.

“So,” Michael says, his voice dropping in pitch just a little as he shifts even closer, “did you come all the way out here just to give me this or is there something else I can do for you?”

“Come here,” Alex laughs as he pulls Michael in for a kiss, the hand on his cheek sliding back to anchor in his curls.

The first touch of Alex’s lips is electric, sending shivers down his spine, and Michael is hopelessly addicted. He moves in for another kiss and then another, obsessed with the way Alex sighs against his mouth and tugs lightly on his hair. He lets go of Alex’s hand to wrap his arms around his waist between his leather jacket and his sweater, pleased to find it just as soft as he imagined.

He’s so lost in the sensation he doesn’t even realize he’s being moved until his back hits the side of the sedan he’s been working on. It knocks the breath out of him, making him gasp, and Alex takes full advantage, flicking the tip of his tongue inside his mouth. Michael moans and draws his arms tighter around Alex’s waist until they’re chest to chest, one of Alex’s legs slipping between his own.

Michael laughs softly against Alex’s mouth when he pulls back to take a breath, almost high on the love he feels for the man in his arms.

“Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?” Alex asks suddenly, brushing his nose alongside Michael’s.

“Alex Manes,” Michael says, pulling back to look at him, smiling so wide his face hurts. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Yeah, I am,” Alex answers, wearing a bright smile of his own, and Michael can’t help but lean forward to kiss him again, his heart soaring with affection.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Alex laughs when Michael pulls away.

“I’ve got maybe another twenty minutes of work to finish on this car before I can take a shower and get ready,” Michael tells him, “but you’re welcome to wait in the Airstream for me if you want.”

Alex gives him an incredulous look as he says, “If I wait for you in the Airstream, I think we both know we’re going to end up skipping dinner.”

“What’s the matter, Manes?” Michael asks, head tilting as he gives him a cheeky smile. “Afraid you can’t keep your hands to yourself?”

“I remember what you look like in a towel, Guerin,” Alex says, and the way he nudges his leg forward just a little more between Michael’s thighs has to be intentional. “Can you really blame me?”

Michael’s throat clicks as he swallows. “Fair enough,” he says. “Where should I meet you?”

“Come by my place at seven,” Alex says.

“Are you cooking for me?” Michael asks, eyebrows raised. He’s never done that for him before, didn’t even know Alex could cook.

“Maybe. You’ll just have to wait to find out,” Alex shrugs noncommittally, but his smile makes Michael think the answer is yes.

“Okay,” Michael grins.

“I’ll see you soon,” Alex says, leaning in for one last kiss that turns into several when Michael nips his bottom lip playfully between his teeth.

“Okay, I really gotta go,” Alex laughs a few moments later, voice muffled by Michael’s mouth.

“Mm, fine,” Michael grumbles, unwinding his arms from Alex’s waist with a short-lived pout. “I’ll see you later.”

Alex drops another kiss on Michael’s cheek before he turns around and heads back to his car.

Michael leans against the car and watches him drive off until his tail lights disappear in the distance before getting back to his work, a spring in his step and a broad smile on his face.

He’s so wrapped up thinking about what Alex has in store for him tonight, he doesn’t notice the footsteps approaching behind him until he hears a gruff voice say, “Just friends, huh? They change the meaning of that word when I wasn’t looking?”

“Mind your business, old man,” Michael shoots back, not an ounce of heat in his words.

Sanders lets out an amused huff and takes another step closer, coming to stand beside him. “Happiness looks good on you, kid,” he says, clapping an affectionate hand on his shoulder.

Michael grins in spite of himself as he turns and catches the smile on Sanders’ weathered face. “Feels pretty good too.”

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #rnm fic #roswell new mexico #my fic

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kimmyyang · 4 years ago

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210408 Zhang Zhehan's interview with Elle Magazine

"I want to be like Ah-Xu, be a gentle yet strong person."

On the day of the photoshoot, it was a rare windy day in Bei Hai. The weather forecast reported it will rain, which made everyone slightly heart-stricken. "Can we still take photos by the seaside?", "how about changing the location?", we were worrying, but fortunately it didn’t rain, only left with steer drop in temperature and roaring wind.

On the way to the photoshoot location, Zhang Zhehan recorded the sound of wind outside of the window. To be able to use the last bit of daylight before the sun sets completely, after filming, he only had one hour and a bit to go back to the hotel, have dinner, change clothes, and get his makeup done. And now, when we have done everything, he uses the time in the car to chat with the long-waited fans in the drama interactive zone.

Busy is an expected state. But when we saw him at the location, you can’t tell any trace of being busy from his face. The strong wind blew the gravels on the beach in the sky. During the interval of the photoshoot, everyone couldn’t help but complained about the cold wind and getting sand all over their faces. Only Zhang Zhehan looked more relaxed as if he came back from a different beach as us.

When we moved to the coffee shop, we finally had time to sit down and talk. He asked the staff to give him a cushion for his back, at that moment, it was probably the first time that made us realize that he is actually very tired. "It’s tough and tiring to be an actor, right?" we haven’t even finished the sentence, and he disagreed, "it’s all the same, every job is tough and tiring."

It seems that he has a big heart.

He chose to ride to Tibet with his friend for his graduation trip. Like his mum said he always has the spirit of seeking out suffering. Speaking of this journey, he said: "we’re living too happily, most families don’t have to worry about clothes and food, don’t need to go through a lot of hardships. I like what Huang Lei teacher once said, ‘people will only have faith after suffering, people will understand kindness after suffering.’ I think after seeing the suffering in the world and feel the suffering yourself - you will be kind to others."

After hearing what he said, you will realize that ‘big heart’ could have been a misunderstanding. He can’t dilute ‘sufferings’ more than others, instead, in the moments of ‘seeking out sufferings’, his feeling towards ‘sufferings’ is stronger and more abundant compared to most people.

He has a very meticulous side, he feels, understands, and hides his ‘sufferings’. Then, those experiences and feelings related to sufferings become something that is hard for others to spot on him.

He said, "when we’re going through a hardship, we can only see the hardship itself, you don’t realize that it’s actually reminding you something and teaching you something else." This is also his understanding of being mature – you can see the many sides of one thing.

‘Bruce Almighty’， ‘The Pursuit of Happyness’， ‘The Bucket List’ are his favorite movies. He said, "there’s a line from Bruce Almighty that left a deep impression – do you really hope God will give you happiness? Maybe everyone’s interpretation of happiness is different, but in the movie, the protagonist only realized it at the end, God was giving him happiness, but not the so-called happiness, God taught him the ability to gain happiness." He pressed his thumb again his chin, slightly looking down, earnestly sharing his impression of the movie.

He added, "you’re actually changing your perspective of the problem." Like what he wrote before, "being mature is being able to see the things that you couldn’t see before."

Maybe if the settling time is long enough, you will be able to stay calm in the change of tides and guard yourself in the quicksand under your feet. Speaking of popularity, he was calmer than we expected.

He said, "popularity is very important for an actor. I think it’s complementary, when you’re popular, you will receive more attention. You will be able to carry some things on your shoulders, first, it can prove that you have the ability, second, it can prove you’re acknowledged by the market."

He continued, "as actors, we also need to be acknowledged by the market. I have seen some amazing actors, they put so much effort into every character but maybe haven’t been acknowledged by the market yet, so they remain unknown. Therefore, a lot of great characters won’t fall into their hands.” It sounds cruel but it’s an undeniable fact. He added, “if you’re not popular, good scripts won’t even land in your hands."

The success of ‘Word of Honor’, to Zhang Zhehan, is like winning the lottery.

He said, "the success of a drama depends on timing, geographical and social conditions, none of these is dispensable. There are hundreds and thousands of dramas filmed each year, but in the end, there will only be one or two that everyone would love. That kind of feels like winning the lottery."

Working hard is very common, it’s nothing special, he thinks it’s unreasonable if you just use ‘working hard’ and ask why you are ‘under appreciated’. Just like how everyone praises him for being an experiential actor and praises his immersive acting. But he thinks, this is the passing line to be an actor, this is what actors are supposed to do.

He said, "if you’re an actor and you don’t experience the character, how could you portray it well, if you don’t get into the character, how could you make the character come to life?"

Working hard, experiencing, and immersing… he views them as a refined definition of actor, these are the preconditions of the lottery ticket. As for whether you can win the lottery in the end, no one can predict it. At least in his experience, he waited for 11 years for that winning lottery ticket.

After the filming ended, he wrote ‘jianghu, goodbye’ on Weibo, when the last episode aired, it was exactly 6 months after the last day of filming. His Weibo is on the setting of showing only the recent 6 months’ posts, as if it was a ‘long been destined’ farewell.

Perhaps the character Zhou Zi Shu is destined to be his. During the four months of filming, he had to gradually reveal Zhou Zi Shu’s two thousand layers of gray, he had to find him, become him, and lastly live the rest of his life for him.

Actors are probably all like this, they always must pour in their own life, emotions, and experience to make the character come to life. The process of making the character come to life means the actors get to experience life and emotions once again.

"Life is experience, you need to put some of your experiences into your characters."

Hegel mentioned in ‘Lectures on Aesthetics’ - 艺术通过供观照的形象可以缓和最酷烈的悲剧命运, 使它成为欣赏的对象。(thank you @sixteenthshen for providing the original quote!)

the specific lines zzh mentioned is bolded: If we are in a general way permitted to regard human activity in the realm of the beautiful as a liberation of the soul, as a release from constraint and restriction, in short, to consider that art does actually alleviate the most overpowering and tragic catastrophes by means of the creations it offers to our contemplation and enjoyment, it is the art of music which conducts us to the final summit of that ascent to freedom.

The reason why those so-called pains are endowed with aesthetic tension may lie in ‘being watched with pleasure’. Those most beautiful things aren’t been torn in our real lives, they become one ‘tearing performance’ after another, being shown on the stage, shown on the screen. The existence of aesthetic distance made ‘those so-called pains’ into something that can be bearable, having its own appreciation.

That so-called ‘pain’ experience comes more direct towards actors, there’s not much room for leeway. In his previous interview, he commented that Zhou Zi Shu is the most memorable character, the character that hurt him the most. Talking about ‘getting hurt’ again, he thinks that is unavoidable.

"I say that an actor has to get into the character and get out of character quickly. But when you’re acting in a happy scene, that happy feeling might last for a day or few days. When you’re acting in a sad, heart-broken scene, even you say it’s ok, it’s fine, it won’t affect me. But it will affect your mood, including your actions. When I go back to my room, I can’t help but to think about that scene, I might not be willing to go out and walk around."

"So, do you think acting is a process of wearing yourself out and wearing emotions down?"

"Of course, of course, of course, it’s wearing myself out." He said of course three times consecutively, "it’s not just wearing my emotions down, it also wears my physical strength out, wears my experience out, and a lot of my own things. So, if I want to do well in a piece of work, I can’t go into the next crew right after I have finished filming. Because you will have traces of the last piece of work, it’s actually hard to accept and get into the next character."

"I personally really like to stay in the filming crew, the reason why I said Zhou Zi Shu is great is that we couldn’t have any other work due to COVID-19 restrictions. I was in the crew for 4 months, in peace. I was looking into and experiencing the character carefully."

On the day of the interview, the Q&A part about acting was the most ‘unrestrained’. Every time we throw out a question, we would always get a powerful and resonating reply. From the perspective of a bystander, you could feel that he is the kind of person that is shining in his professional field.

At the end of every drama/ film, he would choose to leave that environment, and go out to have fun for few days. "I’m not insisting that I need to disengage from the drama/ film, I just want to relax, return to myself, return to Zhang Zhehan’s life."

"So, when you’re looking at Zhou Zi Shu again now as a viewer, do you have any different sentiment?"

"Of course, I would think of the funny parts and incidents. A lot of interesting bits that I’ve added in myself, you can see it in the character." Fortunately, as an actor, he can also feel the happiness that ordinary viewers have.

In our conversation, the words that he mentioned the most were 'gentle yet strong'.

"I really like netizens' comments that Zhou Zi Shu is gentle yet strong."

"The quality that I admire the most now is gentle yet strong."

"I feel like now I want to be like Ah-Xu, someone who is gentle yet strong."

"I want to be like Ah-Xu, become a bit gentler."

He thinks this seemingly contradictory combination is very interesting, "strong describes a person who is strong, whereas gentle is soft. These two words may seem to have no connection, but when they’re put together, it’s also a perfect connection."

"I didn’t feel this way before. I used to think people have to be strong, powerful, how can you be gentle yet strong? I think that’s something I need to learn now. This person must make everyone around them feel comfortable and think of others, but at the same time he/ she is also an individual who’s very strong and full of capabilities."

"Like water, it’s like this when it’s calm, it’s like that when it’s surging high."

He used as many hand gestures as he could as he wanted to express what’s on his mind as much as possible.

Gentle yet strong, this is what he saw, felt from Zhou Zi Shu, and it’s also the character experience he most wants to leave behind.

"Speaking of what hasn’t changed for 11 years, is that I’m still acting; speaking of changes there are a lot. All these years of experience, it became my understanding of each character, in contrast, 11 years of acting experience allowed me to learn a lot from my characters."

To him, every big or small character he had in the past 11 years is a mutual encounter, he gave something to the characters, and the characters also left him with something.

Those who have seen his acting praise him that he truly understands Zhou Zi Shu, so we asked how he could stand in the perspective of Zhou Zi Shu to understand his words and actions. He doesn’t think that it was understanding, it just naturally happened.

"I didn’t deliberately try to understand him, I think what he did was just following his heart, that’s how I feel, so that’s how it should be. I would ask if it was myself, can I do that? Is it acceptable? If I think it’s ok, then it’s right. If I think it’s unacceptable, I will definitely tell the director - 'I don’t want to act this way.'"

"I read another book today, the main idea is the most important thing for people is to know themselves. Know yourself, know what kind of person you are, then you will know the world. You need to learn how to reconcile with yourself, learn how to communicate with yourself, tell yourself when you need to keep going, when to compromise, when you need to understand, when you need to be strong… you need to keep being yourself and convince yourself at certain times."

Meeting Zhou Zi Shu, to Zhang Zhehan is also the process of meeting and knowing himself. "But I’m probably not as mighty as Zhou Zi Shu," he laughed.

He thinks that he’s not at the age of looking back, the things that have happened, just let them go. "There’s nothing to remember in particular, there’s nothing memorable. And my occupation, a lot of people will remember for you, they will remember your good, remember your various moments, so I don’t need to remember. What I need to do now is to live well, my current life, future life, and get into the next role."

"When I can’t act anymore, I think I will look back more."

Now, he wants to challenge a new area, "I really want to act in movies, act in more movies. 40 episodes of acting and 2 hours of acting are different, condensed acting is the quintessence. I still need to learn how to act well in the 2 hours."

And "I hope I can be a director one day."

The beautiful scenery in spring is as deep and wide as the sea, it’s fortunate that we get to meet.

"My occupation, many people will remember every moment of yours."

"Immerse into my next character, and live well - that's what I need to do now. "

Translation by: KIMMYYANG

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julienbakersideblog · 4 years ago

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Julien Baker’s track-by-track walkthrough of ‘Little Oblvions’

1. Hardline

“It’s more of a confession booth song, which a lot of these are. I feel like whenever I imagine myself in a pulpit, I don't have a lot to say that's honest or useful. And when I imagine myself in a position of disclosing, in order to bring me closer to a person, that's when I have a lot to say.”

2. Heatwave

“I wrote it about being stuck in traffic and having a full-on panic attack. But what was causing the delay was just this car that had a factory defect and bomb-style exploded. I was like, ‘Man, someone got incinerated. A family maybe.’ The song feels like a fall, but it's born from the second verse where I feel like I'm just walking around with my knees in gravel or whatever the verse in Isaiah happens to be: the willing submission to suffering and then looking around at all these people's suffering, thinking that is a huge obstacle to my faith and my understanding, this insanity and unexplainable hurt that we're trying to heal with ideology instead of action.”

3. Faith Healer

“I have an addictive personality and I understand it's easy for me to be an escapist with substances because I literally missed being high. That was a real feeling that I felt and a feeling that felt taboo to say outside of conversations with other people in recovery. The more that I looked at the space that was left by substance or compulsion that I've then just filled with something else, the more I realised that this is a recurring problem in my personality. And so many of the things that I thought about myself that were noble or ultimately just my pursuit of knowing God and the nature of God—that craving and obsession is trying to assuage the same pain that alcohol or any prescription medication is.”

4. Relative Fiction

“The identity that I have worked so hard to cultivate as a good person or a kind person is all basically just my own homespun mythology about myself that I'm trying to use to inspire other people to be kinder to each other. Maybe what's true about me is true about other people, but this song specifically is a ruthless evaluation of myself and what I thought made me principled. It's kind of a fool's errand.”

5. Crying Wolf

“It's documenting what it feels like to be in a cyclical relationship, particularly with substances. There was a time in my life, for almost a whole year, where it felt like that. I think that is a very real place that a lot of people who struggle with substance use find themselves in, where the resolution of every day is the same and you just can’t seem to make it stick.”

6. Bloodshot

“The very first line of the song is talking about two intoxicated people—myself being one of them—looking at each other and me having this out-of-body experience, knowing that we are both bringing to our perception of the other what we need the other person to be. That's a really lonely and sad place to be in, the realisation that we're each just kind of sculpting our own mythologies about the world, crafting our narratives.”

7. Ringside

“I have a few tics that manifest themselves with my anxiety and OCD, and for a long time, I would just straight-up punch myself in the head—and I would do it onstage. It's this extension of physicality from something that's fundamentally compulsive that you can't control. I can't stop myself from doing that, and I feel really embarrassed about it. And for some reason I also can't stop myself from doing other kinds of more complicated self-punishment, like getting into co-dependent relationships and treating each one of those like a lottery ticket. Like, 'Maybe this one will work out.'”

8. Favor

“I have a friend whose parents live in Jackson, where my parents live. They’re one of my closest friends and they were around for the super dark part of 2019. I'll try to talk to the person who I hurt or I'll try to admit the wrongdoing that I've done. I'll feel so much guilt about it that I'll cry. And then I'll hate that I've cried because now it seems manipulative. I'm self-conscious about looking like I hate myself too much for the wrong things I've done because then I kind of steal the person's right to be angry. I don't want to cry my way out of shit.”

9. Song in E

“I would rather you shout at me like an equal and allow me to inhabit this imagined persona I have where I'm evil. Because then, if I can confirm that you hate me and that I'm evil and I've failed, then I don't any longer have to deal with the responsibility of trying to be good. I don't any longer have to be saddled with accountability for hurting you as a friend. It’s something not balancing in the arithmetic of my brain, for sin and retribution, for crime and punishment. And it indebts you to a person and ties you to them to be forgiven.”

10. Repeat

“I tried so hard for so long not to write a tour song, because that's an experience that musicians always write about that's kind of inaccessible to people who don't tour. We were in Germany and I was thinking: Why did I choose this? Why did I choose to rehash the most emotionally loaded parts of my life on a stage in front of people? But that's what rumination is. These are the pains I will continue to experience, on some level, because they're familiar.”

11. Highlight Reel

“I was in the back of a cab in New York City and I started having a panic attack and I had to get out and walk. The highlight reel that I'm talking about is all of my biggest mistakes, and that part—‘when I die, you can tell me how much is a lie’—is when I retrace things that I have screwed up in my life. I can watch it on an endless loop and I can torture myself that way. Or I can try to extract the lessons, however painful, and just assimilate those into my trying to be better. That sounds kind of corny, but it's really just, what other options do you have except to sit there and stare down all your mistakes every night and every day?”

12. Ziptie

“I was watching people be restrained with zip ties on the news. It's just such a visceral image of violence to see people put restraints on another human being—on a demonstrator, on a person who is mentally ill, on a person who is just minding their own business, on a person who is being racially profiled. I had a dark, funny thought that's like, what if God could go back and be like, ‘Y'all aren't going to listen.’ Jesus sacrificed himself and everybody in the United States seems to take that as a true fact, and then shoot people in cold blood in the street. I was just like, ‘Why?’ When will you call off the quest to change people that are so horrid to each other?”

For Apple Music

#julien baker #little oblivions #interview #apple music #HOW WE DOIN YALL #I AM NOT OKAY #VERY #long post

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aonogifreactions · 4 years ago

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Minecraft headcanons no one asked for

a/n: olcvfgmlkfm this hit me so randomly i dont even know. enjoy!! under the cut due to length!

★ Characters: Rin, Yukio, Mephisto, Amaimon.

★ Words: 1,6k.

Rin:

this sweetheart loves playing with you whenever you ask him to! it relaxes him a lot, plus just having fun with you is making him really happy.

he stays somewhere near you, ALWAYS. he’s way too embarrassed to admit he’s scared (same Rin, same), so whenever he yelps or jumps on his bed because he heard a zombie growl, you can laugh as much as you want, but don’t be surprised if he shoots a glare at you and pouts.

he’ll bring you whatever you want. wood? fine. iron? no problem, he’s already on his way to find a cave (even if he’s afraid of caves.. he’ll do it for you).

he’s not very good at building, so usually he leaves it to you, and it doesn’t really matter whether you live in a “house” made out of dirt or a full ass mansion; no matter what your building skills are, he’s gonna praise you anyway.

sucks at parkour. DON’T ask him to play a parkour map, he’s gonna whine and barely make one jump.

speaking about bad jumping, he’s really clumsy and somehow always ends up with the highest death streak. for example, he’s sprinting to kill a pig, but somehow doesn’t notice a fucking lava pool below him and jumps right into it. accidentally hits a zombie piglin (or pigman, depends on what version you play on) and he’s dead.

HOWEVER, he’s the guy who gets really lucky. do you remember/have a person/friend that always manages to get diamonds first? yep, it’s him. gets the best enchants. both on books and tools or armor. he also gets the ender dragon kill first too.

he won’t play without optifine and texture pack other than the default one. he hates it. his fave is faithful and if it doesn’t work, he’s constantly commenting on how the default one is hurting his eyes.

he will NOT survive listening to both disc “11″ and “13″ he hates it. don’t play it unless you want him to cry.

hasn’t played alpha nor beta versions, but he likes watching vids of it! he gets very nostalgic, which honestly bewilders him because he started playing way after beta. sometimes you can catch him listening to the old soundtrack all teared up, or falling asleep to it.

LOVES GREEN PARROTS. one of them is named after you.

MAY I INFORM YOU, HE DOES PLACE HIS BED TOGETHER WITH YOURS.

Yukio:

unlike rin, he’s always complaining about you asking him to play, but he’s obviously gonna do it (because he loves u,, even if he says he doesn’t). it also relaxes him, but mostly, he likes it because he’s able to get his mind off of “adult things” and finally get some rest.

wooo, he’s the brave one. he isn’t afraid of zombie gurgles or anything like that, so he’s always going to caves first (and gets lost because he’s literally going deeper and deeper FDMKFMV). however, there’s one thing that always startles him... cave sounds. he doesn’t scream, but if you’re near him, you can sometimes witness his character spinning or jerking his head in another direction because of it vcxkvnjhbv

don’t, i repeat, dON’T make fun of him afterward. he’s gonna go all the way back to you and kill you (and then go back mining.. like nothing happened).

the perfectionist. always mines all the resources he sees; during building something he also always makes sure everything’s proportional. gladly counts blocks for you, if your brain can’t work anymore.

now, building! not very skilled with building houses, but he likes building simple decorations, like fountains, gardens or farms. despite him always claiming it’s bad, his work always looks very detailed. not very good with ideas of those things at first, so mainly at the beginning he always finds some inspirations on the internet, but later gets the hang of it and builds his own ideas!

his favorite place to have a house in is somewhere near the ocean.

likes default textures. too used to have anything else.

doesn’t like listening to in-game music, unless it’s something from beta or alpha versions (like “Haggstorm” or “Wet Hands”). Usually listening to his own favorite songs on Spotify.

His favorite disc is “Far”. It used to be “Cat”, but due to him obtaining it like 3000 times he stopped liking it. nor hearing it anywhere near.

when he goes out to get resources and/or food, he comes back with full inventory and shulkers, just like a father that’s about to feed his kids. minimum 10 stacks of iron, coal blocks and food. the nearest 10k chunks of caves is already explored, so you better be ready for a long, lONG WALK to get something new.

he’s also fond of beta versions, but rarely plays them without you.

Mephisto:

this motherfucker wants to literally speedrun every fucking game. meanwhile you’re busy making a wooden pick, he’s out there typing “can’t wait to beat the dragon and get elytras~! ★”

remembers literally every recipe for all items and alchemy. personal minecraft wikipedia right there.

he MUST have a fucking mansion, otherwise, he isn’t playing. fortunately, he’s tried building before, so he’s perfectly capable of building one himself. it’s all made out of pink wool and concrete, along with white concrete accents here and there.

adding to the previous one, he also has a great decorating sense. the rooms look very good, space is filled nicely and is both pretty and practical. the mansion itself looks very good on outside and inside.

of course, the main bedroom that’s designed especially for you two looks WAY TOO GOOD. I'm not even gonna start on him messing with plugins and making it even prettier.

his skin is a random, pink anime girl.

master with redstone. everything’s automated, there also might be hidden rooms with surprises. there’s a hidden shrine dedicated for you. he hasn’t told you about that though... >_>

even though he gets many useful things from the swamp biome, like lily pads or that cyan flowers, he hates this biome with a burning passion. if he sees it anywhere near his render distance he’s spasming and immediately voicing his annoyance. hates that specific, “dirty and unsightly” green water and grass color.

he doesn’t do much mining, but happily goes with you if you ask him to. even if he has no armor on, he never dies. NEVER. there might be 6 creepers but he somehow survives their explosion.

not scared at all. he knows this game like the back of his hand. he might, however, attempt to scare YOU instead. on purpose. or accidentally hit you so you fall from a large height and die. if you get upset at him afterward, he’s gonna give you even better stuff you’ve had before.

HE LOVES PLAYING ALPHA AND BETA. he started to play probably around very early alpha, so coming back to such simpler times is making him somewhat nostalgic (even if he denies it). on those versions, he builds things that used to be popular back in the day, like simple towers of cobblestone or houses inside mountains. it hits him hard when old soundtrack plays.

Amaimon:

he’s very, very confused. first off, he’s not used to the game at all, but then, he googles almost any recipe or asks you thousands of questions about how to make things. after some time, he finally figures out that there’s a book with recipes in game.

he might steal your items, but usually, he gives you back better items. for example, you notice your iron pickaxe is missing, but suddenly he sprints into the house and throws at you diamonds.

oh, he’s aware of the existence of chests, but for some reason, he likes throwing various items at you. he runs off afterward, leaving you with everything on the ground.

don’t introduce him to bedrock edition, he hates playing minecraft with a gamepad, and will smash it immediately. java edition is the only help for this man.

he’s also clumsy, like Rin. he manages to do that less than him somehow, but he tends to die pretty often anyway. his deaths are the stupidest, sometimes he doesn’t even bother explaining it. he literally can die with gravel suffocating him.

once he goes to the nether, he doesn’t wanna go back to the overworld. he says something along the lines of it being similar to gehenna or whatever, but. no matter what version it is - pre- or post- update 1.16, he likes it and that’s it.

his favorite biome in the overworld is jungle - mostly because of the lively color of grass, but also tall trees. he likes having there treehouses and always asks if you can build one (because he sucks at building. even worse than Rin >_>). his fave in the nether is blue forest or basalt biome - however, he becomes mad quickly on the second one due to frequent gaps filled with lava and magma cubes.

he likes normal slimes though. he even has a pet slime!! QwQ

he named his pet slime after Behemoth. keeps it safe in a glass cube and checks on it regularly. Behemoth doesn’t know about it doe.

he bullies every single villager that’s within his sight. burns their homes. the only thing that survives is the iron golem because he thinks it’s cool.

plays with the basic Steve skin. partially because he doesn’t know how to change it and that he isn’t determined enough to look for any.

forgets that crouching exist and falls off almost every cliff or anything that’s considered high.

#Ao no Exorcist #blue exorcist #rin okumura #Rin Okumura x reader #Yukio Okumura #yukio okumura x reader #mephisto pheles #amaimon #Headcanon #Pure

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dfroza · 10 months ago

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“But some people hear the message and let it take root deeply in receptive hearts made fertile by honesty and goodness. With patient dependability, they bear good fruit.

Hidden things will always come out into the open. Secret things will come to light and be exposed. I hope you’re still listening. And I hope you’re listening carefully.”

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 8th chapter of the book of Luke:

Soon after this incident, Jesus preached from city to city, village to village, carrying the good news of the kingdom of God. He was accompanied by a group called “the twelve,” and also by a larger group including some women who had been rescued from evil spirits and healed of diseases. There was Mary, called Magdalene, who had been released from seven demons. There were others like Susanna and Joanna, who was married to Chuza, a steward of King Herod. And there were many others too. These women played an important role in Jesus’ ministry, using their wealth to provide for Him and His other companions.

While a huge crowd gathered with people from many surrounding towns streaming to hear Jesus, He told them a parable.

His disciples heard the words, but the deeper meaning eluded them.

Disciples: What were You trying to say?

Jesus: The kingdom of God contains many secrets.

They keep listening, but do not comprehend;

keep observing, but do not understand.

But some people hear the message and let it take root deeply in receptive hearts made fertile by honesty and goodness. With patient dependability, they bear good fruit.

Around this time, Jesus was speaking to a crowd of people gathered in a house. His mother and brothers arrived to see Him, but the crowd around Him was so huge that they couldn’t even get through the door. Word spread through the crowd.

Someone from the Crowd: Jesus, Your mother and brothers are outside the house hoping to see You.

Jesus: Do you want to know who My mother and brothers are? They’re the ones who truly understand God’s message and obey it.

Picture this:

One day Jesus and His disciples get into a boat.

Jesus: Let’s cross the lake.

So they push off from shore and begin sailing to the far side. As they progress across the lake, Jesus falls sound asleep. Soon a raging storm blows in. The waves wash over the sides of the boat, and the boat starts filling up with water. Every second the situation becomes more dangerous.

The disciples shake Jesus and wake Him.

Disciples (shouting): Master! Master! We’re all going to die!

Jesus wakes up and tells the wind to stop whipping them around, and He tells the furious waves to calm down. They do just that. Then Jesus turns to the disciples.

Jesus: What happened to your faith?

The disciples had been terrified during the storm, but now they’re afraid in another way. They turn to each other and start whispering, chattering, and wondering.

Disciples: Who is this man? How can He command wind and water so they do what He says?

When they get to the other side of the lake, in the Gerasene country opposite Galilee, a man from the city is waiting for Jesus when He steps out of the boat. The man is full of demonic spirits. He’s been running around for a long time stark naked, and he’s homeless, sleeping among the dead in a cemetery. This man has on many occasions been tied up and chained and kept under guard, but each time he has broken free and the demonic power has driven him back into remote places away from human contact. Jesus commands the demonic force to leave him. The man looks at Jesus and starts screaming. He falls down in front of Jesus.

Possessed Man (shouting): Don’t torment me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God! Why are You here?

Jesus (calmly and simply): What’s your name?

Possessed Man: Battalion.

He says this because an army of demons is inside of him. The demons start begging Jesus not to send them into the bottomless pit. They plead instead to enter into a herd of pigs feeding on a steep hillside near the shore. Jesus gives them permission to do so. Suddenly the man is liberated from the demons, but the pigs—they stampede, squealing down the hill and into the lake where they drown themselves.

The pig owners see all this. They run back to their town and tell everyone in the region about it. Soon a crowd rushes from the town to see what’s going on out by the lake. There they find Jesus seated to teach with the newly liberated man sitting at His feet learning in the posture of a disciple. This former madman is now properly dressed and completely sane. This frightens the people. The pig owners tell them the whole story—the healing, the pigs’ mass suicide, everything.

The people are scared to death, and they don’t want this scary abnormality happening in their territory. They ask Jesus to leave immediately. Jesus doesn’t argue. He prepares to leave, but before they embark, the newly liberated man begs to come along and join the band of disciples.

Jesus: No. Go home. Tell your people this amazing story about how much God has done for you.

The man does so. In fact, he tells everyone in the whole city how much Jesus did for him that day on the shore.

When Jesus and His disciples crossed the lake, another crowd was waiting to welcome Him. A man made his way through the crowd. His name was Jairus, and he was a synagogue official. Like the man on the other side of the lake, this dignified man also fell at Jesus’ feet, begging Jesus to visit his home where his only daughter, a girl of 12, lay dying. Jesus set out with Jairus. The crowd came along, too, pressing hard against Him.

In the crowd was a woman. She had suffered from an incurable menstrual disorder for 12 years [and had spent her livelihood on doctors with no effect]. It had kept her miserable and ritually unclean, unable to participate fully in Jewish life. She followed Jesus, until she could reach Him. She touched the fringe of the robe Jesus wore, and at that moment the bleeding stopped.

Jesus (stopping and looking about): Who touched Me?

Some in the Crowd (everyone speaking at once): Not me.

Another in the Crowd: It wasn’t me either.

Peter [and those with him] (intervening): Master, what kind of question is that, with this huge crowd all around You and many people touching You on all sides?

Jesus: I felt something. I felt power going out from Me. I know that somebody touched Me.

The woman now realized her secret was going to come out sooner or later, so she stepped out of the crowd, shaking with fear, and she fell down in front of Jesus. Then she told her story in front of everyone—why she touched Him, what happened as a result.

Jesus: Your faith has made you well again, daughter. Go in peace.

Right at that instant, one of Jairus’s household servants arrived.

Servant: Sir, your daughter is dead. It’s no use bothering the Teacher with this anymore.

Jesus (interrupting Jairus before he could speak): Don’t be afraid. Just believe. She’ll be well again.

As they approached the house, the whole neighborhood was full of the sound of mourning—weeping, wailing, loud crying. Jesus told everyone to stay outside—everyone except Peter, John, James, and, of course, the girl’s father and mother.

Jesus (to the mourners): Please stop weeping. The girl isn’t dead. She’s only asleep.

They knew for certain that she was dead, so their bitter tears now mixed with mocking laughter.

Meanwhile, inside, Jesus took the girl’s hand.

Jesus: Child, get up!

She started breathing again, and she sat right up.

Jesus: Get her something to eat.

Her parents were amazed, but Jesus sternly told them to keep what had happened a secret.

The Book of Luke, Chapter 8 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

Parables are works of art, specifically, works of short fiction. They are intricately constructed and complex in their intent. In some ways, they are intended to hide the truth; they don’t reduce truth to simple statements or formulae. Instead, they force the reader to take things to a deeper level, to engage the imagination, to think and think again. In this way, they invite people to ask questions; they stir curiosity; they create intrigue.

Today’s paired reading from the First Testament is the 14th and closing chapter of the book of Zechariah:

Pay attention. The day for the Eternal is coming, a day of judgment when your enemies will plunder your goods and divide them right in front of you. For I am going to incite all the nations to battle against Jerusalem. The city will be surrounded and taken. The houses will be ransacked; all of your treasured possessions will be looted. Your wives and daughters will be raped. Half of the city will be forced into exile. The other half will remain in the city to pick up the pieces. The Eternal One will join in the battle and fight against those enemy nations as your champion as He would on any day of any battle. When that day comes, His feet will stand securely on the Mount of Olives, which sits east of Jerusalem. The mountain will quake under His weight and split in two, divided by a wide valley that runs east to west. Half of the mountain will retreat to the north, the other half to the south. That valley will become your escape route because the valley of My mountains will lead as far as Azel, and you shall run as you ran from the earthquake that hit during the reign of King Uzziah of Judah. Once you are safe, the Eternal my God will come to you with all His holy ones.

On that day, there will be no light, no cold or biting frost. There will be a single, continuous day—a unique kind of day known only to the Eternal One—when night does not eclipse the day and when light shines through the evening. On that day, living waters will stream out of Jerusalem. Half of them will flow to the eastern Dead Sea; the other half will descend the hills and cross the plains to join the western Mediterranean Sea. These waters will flow throughout the dry summer as they do in the wet winter. And the Eternal will be crowned as King over all the earth. On that day, the Eternal will be one and His name will be one. The mountainous land around Jerusalem will be turned into plains from Geba to Rimmon, south of the city. Jerusalem itself will then sit prominently in her place between Benjamin’s gate, the location of the first gate, and the corner gate; she’ll sit between Hananel’s Tower and the royal winepresses. And Jerusalem will remain secure, bustling with residents, because she will never again be destined for destruction.

Every nation that attempts to wage war against Jerusalem will be struck with a plague. The Eternal will infect them with a disease making their flesh decay even as they stand, their eyes decay in their sockets, and their tongues decay in their mouths. When that horrible day arrives, the Eternal will provoke them to panic, so that in their confusion they will grab each other for safety and then turn and attack each other. Even Judah will be forced to fight in Jerusalem. And the riches of all the surrounding enemy nations will be gathered together—gold, silver, and costly clothing piled deep. Then the same disease that plagues the enemy forces will infect the horses, mules, camels, donkeys—whatever domesticated animals are in their battle camps.

In days to come, all people who took up arms against Jerusalem and survived will make a choice: they will either journey to Jerusalem every year to keep the Feast of Booths and to worship the King—the Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies— or the families of nations will refuse the journey to Jerusalem to adore the King, the Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies. The rains will never come to those who refuse the journey. Even the family of people known as Egypt, if they do not come up to and travel through the gates of Jerusalem to present themselves to God, the Eternal will afflict them with the same plague of drought He’ll use to crush those nations who won’t keep the Feast of Booths. This is the punishment Egypt and the enemy nations can expect if they refuse the journey to keep the Feast of Booths.

On that day, every aspect of the land will be ritually pure. Engraved on the bells worn by horses will be the same phrase on the high priest’s turban: “Sacred to the Eternal One.” The cooking pots used in the house of the Eternal will be as sacred as those collection bowls used at the altar. In fact every pot in Jerusalem and Judah will be treated as sacred to the Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies, so that anyone who offers a sacrifice may borrow them and use them to boil the meat of the sacrifice. In that day, no merchant will be found in the temple of the Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies.

The Book of Zechariah, Chapter 14 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

The day of the Eternal One is coming. It is a day of judgment when a great final battle is fought. Jerusalem and her people are under attack; and the city, it seems, falls to her enemies. But ultimately, God’s people do not fight alone. The Lord comes—commanding the army of heaven—to rescue and defend His people. Ultimately, He is crowned King over all the earth. In that day, Jerusalem is transformed and reinstated as God’s holy city; it becomes the center of the world, the source of life-giving waters. Even her enemies make pilgrimages to Jerusalem to worship and adore the one True God.

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Tuesday, february 27 of 2024 with a paired chapter from each Testament (the First & the New) of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons on the significance of truth:

The Love of Truth...

Christian (and Jewish) theology insists that spiritual truth matters, and knowing the truth about God is absolutely essential for life itself. Nothing is more important. Nothing is more vital. “This is eternal life (חַיֵּי עוֹלָם), that they may know you, the only true God (אֶל־אֱמֶת), and Yeshua the Messiah (יֵשׁוּעַ הַמָּשִׁיחַ) whom you have sent (John 17:3). The truth sets us free; it is the unbreakable seal that bears witness of reality. In the Gospel of John it is recorded that Yeshua said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (i.e., ᾽Εγώ εἰμι ἡ ὁδὸς καὶ ἡ ἀλήθεια καὶ ἡ ζωή). The Greek word translated “truth” in this verse is aletheia (ἀλήθεια), a compound word formed from an alpha prefix (α-) meaning “not,” and lethei (λήθη), meaning “forgetfulness.” (In Greek mythology, the “waters of Lethe” induced a state of oblivion or forgetfulness.) Truth is therefore a kind of “remembering” something forgotten, or a recollecting of what is essentially real. Etymologically, the word aletheia suggests that truth is also “unforgettable” (i.e., not lethei), that is, it has its own inherent and irresistible “witness” to reality. In that sense light is a metaphor for truth: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5). There can be no truth apart from moral reality. People may lie to themselves, but ultimately truth has the final word.

Greek scholars note that the word lethei itself is derived from the verb lanthano (λανθάνω), which means “to be hidden,” so the general idea is that a-letheia (i.e., truth) is non-concealment, non-hiddenness, or (put positively) revelation or disclosure. Thus the word of Yeshua - His message, logos (λόγος), revelation, and presence - is both “unforgettable” and irrepressible. Yeshua is the Unforgettable One that has been manifest as the express Word of God (דְּבַר הָאֱלהִים). Yeshua is the Light of the world (אוֹר הָעוֹלָם) and the one who gives us the “light of life” (John 8:12). Though God’s message can be suppressed by evil and darkened thinking, the truth is self-evident and intuitively certain (see Rom. 1:18-21).

We have a moral imperative, given by God Himself, to receive the truth and to live according to the nature of spiritual reality. Those who reject or suppress the truth, however, are responsible for their actions, as it is written, “No one who practices deceit shall dwell in my house; no one who utters lies shall continue before my eyes” (Psalm 101:7).

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Psalm 25:5a reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm25-5a-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm25-5a-lesson.pdf

2.26.24 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel365:

Sometimes we set out to strengthen or comfort others and we find that we, ourselves, are the ones who receive comfort and strength from the interaction.

Rabbi Ephraim Mirvis, Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth, brings to light this idea through his exploration of palindromes – words that read the same forwards and backward.

One notable example of a palindrome is found in the Torah portion of Ki Tisa (Exodus 30:11-34:35). The verse states:

כִּי תִשָּׂא אֶת־רֹאשׁ בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵל לִפְקֻדֵיהֶם וְנָתְנוּ אִישׁ כֹּפֶר נַפְשׁוֹ לַיהֹוָה בִּפְקֹד אֹתָם וְלֹא־יִהְיֶה בָהֶם נֶגֶף בִּפְקֹד אֹתָם׃

kee ti-SA et ROSH b’-nay yis-ra-AYL lif-ku-day-HEM v’-na-t’-NU EESH KO-fer naf-SHO la-do-NAI bif-KOD o-TAM v’-lo yih-YEH va-HEM NE-gef bif-KOD o-TAM

When you take a census of B’nei Yisrael according to their enrollment, each shall pay Hashem a ransom for himself on being enrolled, that no plague may come upon them through their being enrolled.

Exodus 30:12

The Hebrew word for “shall pay” in this verse is ונתנו (venatnu). The literal meaning of this word is “and they shall give.” This palindrome beautifully illustrates the concept of reciprocity in giving: just as the word reads the same in either direction, so too, does the act of giving result in receiving.

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

February 27, 2024

Seducing Spirits

“Now the Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils.” (1 Timothy 4:1)

These “latter days” are surely characterized by the tragic departure from the faith on the part of many. Unfortunately, even many of our churches have followed what should certainly be exposed as “seducing spirits,” embracing lies taught under the influence of Satan. A list of such false teachings and practices within the church would surely implicate many. Let us look at the examples Paul gives in the next few verses.

First, he identifies the leaders and teachers of these errors as hypocritical liars who intentionally deceive their prey. They have deadened any possibility of right attitude by hardening their minds and searing their consciences (v. 2).

Next, we are given examples of their heresy: “Forbidding to marry, and commanding to abstain from meats, which God hath created to be received with thanksgiving” (v. 3).

Many cults and pseudo-Christian groups have fallen into these traps, but both the institution of marriage and the provision of foods were specifically created by God for man’s enjoyment and blessing (marriage: see Genesis 1:28; 2:18, 24; foods: Genesis 1:29; 9:3). They are to be “received with thanksgiving” to a loving Creator, “sanctified by the word of God and prayer” (1 Timothy 4:4-5). Each of these and all of God’s creation are “very good” (Genesis 1:31) if used properly.

But the main point of this passage is that we should guard against the heresy of false teachers and from imposing on ourselves and our fellow Christians a false piety—practices that may make us feel “holier than thou” but that in reality impugn God and His creation. Rather, let us be among those “which believe and know the truth” (1 Timothy 4:3) of God’s loving provision of creation. JDM

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

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Somebody To Remember

Andrew (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe), slight Spoilers

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Y/N wakes up in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar people and with a big chunk of memories missing. She’s told she, along with her professor and classmates, was in a bus crash while passing through the town of Little Hope. From that point onward she is trying her best to contribute into the group’s efforts of finding a way out of that place and also piecing together the shards of her broken recollection.

Requested by Dot Anon! Hi there! Sorry for the long wait, but it’s finally here and I hope it makes it worth it! I love writing for Little Hope and I’m very grateful you gave me an opportunity to write for Andrew with your request! Hope you enjoy the read, looking forward to hearing more requests from you! Love, Vy ❤

My eyelids lift just barely before an intense pain takes over my entire skull. Instead of battling through it, I just shut my eyes again. I feel like my head is swimming as though I’ve been spinning in circles for the past five minutes. Speaking of the last five minutes, I don’t remember them. Actually, I can’t recall anything from...I can’t even recall how long it’s been from what I last remember. I hear voices but they aren’t clear - almost like I’m at the bottom of a lake and they are calling out to me from the shore. I make another attempt at opening my eyes, succeeding this time, despite the intense pain.

“Hey, there you are.“ Unlike the rest, this voice sounds to be closer which makes it a lot clearer and easier to understand. “Stay with me now, Y/N.“

I blink a couple times, struggling to get my eyes in focus. When I finally manage, I am met with a pair of greenish blue eyes looking back at me.

“Hi? Um, where am I?“ I utter hesitantly, letting my gaze wander all over the picture in front of me. I see a boy who appears to be in his late teens, maybe early twenties, I can’t tell. Behind him I see a shorthaired girl and an older man talking. I tap my fingers on the surface I’m sitting on - it’s no doubt gravel. And wait, did he refer to me as Y/N? “Am I Y/N?“ As I speak, I feel a sharp sting on my cheek. I lift my hand to touch the spot where the unpleasant sensation is coming from just to pull my fingers away with a wince, seeing them covered in blood. A pit of fear and panic forms in my stomach. “What happened? Why am I bleeding?“

His eyes widen. He looks border-line horrified as he backs away from me, never taking his eyes off me, though. “Professor, can you come here for a sec?” He says, his hand waving over the older man.

He walks over and crouches next to the boy. “What’s wrong? How are you feeling, Y/N?” He’s looking at me when he asks the question, so I can only assume I really am Y/N.

“She can’t remember anything.“ The boy says, his voice shaky due to what seems like panic, “What do we do?“

I switch my focus between the two, the panic growing stronger within me as well. The professor contemplates his next move carefully before calling out to the girl who is trying to catch a signal with her phone in the air. “Hey Taylor, give me your phone. I need a light.”

“Coming!“ The girl power walks to us, a smile spreading on her face when our eyes meet, “Oh thank God you’re awake, Y/N! I was terrified!“

I brave through the pain so I can return her smile, “Yeah, I’m happy to be awake too. Would be happier if I could recall anything though.”

Her expression morphs into the same one the boy had when I insinuated that I don’t remember anything. Putting her initial shock aside, she hands the professor her phone. He holds it above my face so the screen could illuminate any injuries I might have. Or the injuries I definitely have cause this headache is most certainly not the result of dehydration or lack of sleep.

“I can see some blood beyond your hairline and a cut on your temple, but that’s it. You are probably concussed. Don’t freak out, though, if you can still make sense you’ll be alright.“ He assures me. “I’m John, by the way, your professor. This is Andrew.“ he points to the boy. “I’m your professor, these two, and the other two we don’t really know the whereabouts of are your classmates. This was supposed to be our field trip for a project, but we got in a crash. That’s how you got those cuts and bruises. But, again, don’t worry we will be just fine. Your memories will come back sooner or later.“

Taylor chuckles, “I wouldn’t worry too much. She’s still got her sarcasm.”

“You bet I do.“ I choose to lift the heaviness of the situation, remove the worries from the group. I feel like I owe it to them for not remembering who they are while they obviously care about me. “Now help me up, I don’t plan on sitting here any longer. It’s quite uncomfortable.��

The professor and Andrew lifted me off the ground by my arms, steadying me on my feet. Concussed or not, I have to be prepared for a night of wandering around in a dark and foggy ghost-town. I can’t be a weakling and depend on my team the whole time.

* * *

My head hurts even more now, I didn’t know that was even possible. Whatever expectations I had for this night, they got thrown out the window the second Andrew and Angela were dragged five centuries back in time. Oh yeah, I also met the two other classmates John mentioned - Angela, who’s a very...interesting woman. She is a little high-maintenance and a little stuck up, but nothin I can’t tolerate. Unlike Taylor who I’m afraid will kill the woman just by glaring; and Daniel who is the complete opposite. He’s kind and sweet and really in love with Taylor. They are very cute together. Despite Angela’s attitude it’s clear that she deeply cares about John. I can tell the feeling’s mutual.

But demons and witches aside, my memory that’s slowly repairing is what’s bothering me most. The fragments that are coming back to me are so disconnected from each other and so far apart, it’s almost like I’m just making them all up to fill in the blanks. I’ve gathered most memories for Taylor, who I think is my best friend and some of Daniel, who is also a good friend of mine. Hell, I can even recall a bickering session I’ve had with Angela and I faintly remember arguing with John about a grade. But nothing of Andrew. Not a single memory involving him. I even pulled Taylor aside to ask her if Andrew and I were even friends before this. Her answer only made me feel worse, though. She seemed rather upset when I told her I can’t remember anything regarding him. She said she was surprised. When I asked her why she gave me a vague response that she assumed I’d remember him most.

Well thanks a lot, Taylor.

I’ve only started exhausting my brain even more now that her words are stuck in my mind.

‘That’s surprising. One would think you’d remember him first.‘

We’re currently taking a break to catch our breath. The past few hours are just a jumble of running away from these terrifying creatures and being pulled back in time. I can’t piece the logic of anything that has happened and it’s bothering me, probably more than it should.

“Hey, you ok? You’ve been cracking and biting your knuckles for a while now.“ Andrew’s voice shakes me out of my trance. He puts a comforting hand on my shoulder, sitting down next to me.

That’s another thing that has been bugging me - his touch. It’s so damn familiar and so natural! I can’t explain it, but every time he touches me, it just feels like his hand belongs there. It sounds ridiculous, I’m aware, but it’s true. I feel so horrible that I can’t remember anything about him - the fact that he has been my biggest support and comfort this whole time isn’t making me feel any better either. He hasn’t left my side for even as much as a second.

“Yeah, just frustrated. And I’d be lying if I said I’m not scared right now.“ I decide to rant and just get everything off my mind, I feel like he’ll understand. “I can’t piece anything together. Not from what’s happening to us and most certainly not from my past. So many large chunks are missing and it’s driving me mad.“ I cover my face with my hands, “I wish I could understand at least 10% of this insanity. That would be enough to give me peace.”

I can no longer feel him touching my shoulder. Instead, his hands take gentle hold of my wrists, pulling them away from my face. Holding both my hands with one of his, he uses the other to lift my chin so our eyes meet. “It’s OK, Y/N. I know how hard this is for you. I understand this is taking an even bigger toll on you than it is on us. Just know that you can trust us. I mean, it’s not like we know any more than you do, but if anything attacks you, we’ll make sure you make it out alive.” He swipes his thumb over my cheekbone. “I would go through a beheading for you, believe it or not.”

I can’t help but laugh, “I believe you, Andrew. Thank you. Just know that it goes both ways.” I squeeze his hand.

I do believe him. I believe all of them. I have faith in this team and I trust it with my life. I trust Andrew with every fiber of my being.

* * *

It’s over. I can hardly believe it. I can’t believe it.

“We can leave it’s over! Oh my God, it’s over!“ Taylor excitedly engulfs me in a tight hug. Tears are streaming down her face. Tears of relief and joy.

I return the hug with the same amount of strength and tenderness, “I can’t believe it’s over. Oh my God.”

“It is. It really is.“ she whispers to me reassuringly before pulling away and giving me one final encouraging nod.

We are finally free to leave that ruin of a house and this town in its entirety. We can now leave it all behind. We can go home.

I watch as Daniel wraps his arm around Taylor’s shoulders pulling her closer to his side. I see the encouraging smiles of pure happiness that John and Angela exchange. I feel all the positivity radiating off of them.

A gentle warm hand takes hold of my frozen and bruised one. I tilt my head to see Andrew falling in step with me. The warm smile on his face confirms what Taylor told me - the nightmare is indeed over. With the horrors left far behind us and 80% of my memory having returned, I feel reborn.

“Feels amazing, doesn’t it?“ He asks, his grip on my hand is tender but firm - he’s afraid of accidentally letting me slip from his grip, but also afraid of causing me pain by touching the many cuts that litter my skin.

“Words can’t describe it.“ I say with a content sigh, instinctively intertwining our fingers together.

And that puts together the remaining 20% that are missing. That special and intimate contact makes something in my brain click.

I stop dead in my tracks, causing Andrew to stop with me. He raises a confused eyebrow at me. “What’s wrong?”

A laugh escapes my lips, a huge grin plastering itself on my face. “You’re my boyfriend.”

His eyes go even wider than when I told him I didn’t remember anything. This time it’s due to a different emotion.

He stutters, “You remember?”

I nod eagerly, “We’ve been dating for seven months now. Daniel introduced us. Taylor kept teasing us saying we should date. We went on our first date more as a joke for the amusement of two of them and then....”

He cuts me off by hugging me twice as tightly as Taylor did. He has put every last bit of his energy into this hug and I’m returning it with every last bit of mine.

“Welcome back completely, Y/N.“ He says, pulling away while still keeping his arms wrapped around me.

“Glad to be back finally.“ I can’t wipe the dopey grin off my face, not that I’m even trying to at this point.

With zero regards for our audience of four, Andrew presses his lips to mine, marking my return to our reality with a love-filled kiss.

@sparrow-gg @artlovingbre @chairtiger

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spookyspaghettisundae · 3 years ago

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What Would Follow the Healing

The warrior's axe trailed behind him in the dirt, dragged by a weary hand too weak to lift it any longer. He lurched and stumbled, weary not from the sun's relentless rays beating down upon his bare bronzed torso, but from the numbness that gripped his body.

A shambling gait to keep moving forward, ever forward, was the most strength he could summon. Gravel crunched underneath his sandals, and he kicked up dust whenever he tripped, oblivious to the pain throbbing from the snakebite in his calf—to the venom that had long spread throughout every limb.

At this crawling, miserable pace, he had wandered the desert for long enough to have lost all sense of time and expected death to greet him any moment now. Yet he wanted to live. To fight another day. To not perish to the bite of some lowly creature after having braved so many battles for his god against able-bodied men.

His pride—his determination—allowed him to hold on. He wiped the sweat from his brow and paused to catch his ragged breath. He coughed through chapped lips, hacking, wheezing, reeling, and almost keeling over.

The world blurred until he squinted hard enough to spot his destination. He blinked and struggled to see past the distortion of unbridled heat rising from the scorched tawny rocks and sands. To see where he had lumbered off towards to seek his only hope at salvation.

Where the grounds sloped down, a beautifully shimmering stream emerged from jagged stone and mounted into a rippling pond, around which a small oasis of palm trees had arisen. A thin plume of smoke trailed into the skies from the chimney of a quaint sandstone hovel, squat on the edge of the oasis.

The Witch Crossing.

He picked up his pace, driven by hope again.

Loose rocks tumbled down and he caught himself upon some dried exposed roots as he descended the final slope to the tiny dwelling. The stones cracked and clattered and rolled down alongside him and one of the rocks bounced off the trunk of a palm tree. His axe lazily clanged against a rock as he marched on, finding new vigor and energy even if he could not shrug off his awful condition, no matter how much he tried to will it away.

Only as he neared the dingy little shelter did his impaired vision afford him glimpses of more unsettling details: stacks of bleached human skulls bunched together upon piles of stones, animal skeletons crudely roped together with coarse twine to form strange magick fetishes, and eerie arcane symbols etched into boulders with the sharp edges of simple stone tools.

Halfway across the oasis, she suddenly appeared.

The witch.

He had blinked, certainly; fighting with all his might to stay awake and alert, no doubt; but in one moment, the cloth curtain covering the entrance to the witch's hovel had stood closed, and in the next, she stood in front of it, staring at him through wide eyes.

Amber, piercing, unblinking, more unsettling than the strange decor that surrounded her eerie abode. Her olive skin was covered in dirt and black hand-painting that matched the glyphs upon the stones, contrasting those bright and cruel eyes.

Her attire took him aback, for she wore nothing but a skirt of hide and vulture bones, breasts bare for him to lose focus on.

"What is it you seek here, pilgrim?" she asked. Raspy was her voice, authoritative her speech, hungry in a way—reminiscent of smoke and the crackle of embers exploding from a fire. "Are you so daft to not heed any warnings?"

He coughed and his knees wobbled, and he did his best to remain standing.

He knew that she knew. Her piercing gaze said it all, wandering up and down his figure and studying him.

She knew what condition he was in.

He looked like death.

"A snake bit me," he said.

She scoffed. "Yes. I see that."

Between more ragged breathing and the ensuing silence growing longer and longer, a twinge of anger welled up in his gut, making his heart beat even faster yet, and leaving his vision clearer than from before the venom starting to dull his senses.

"Then help me, witch! I have treasure! I have gold. You can have anything you want from me," he said, wheezing in between the last words.

"Anything?" she said with a smug smirk.

"Anything!"

He pawed at the tiny pouch hanging from his belt. Fingers fumbled with the knotted cord that kept it by his side, then gave up. He furiously ripped at it and the string snapped. He tore the little leather satchel open and emptied its clinking contents onto the ground. Coins of different color and bearing many different crests, and a small emerald and a beautiful ruby, they all glittered and sparkled in the sun as they plummeted down, landing softly in the sand.

The smug smirk vanished from her visage.

"Fool. Am I to scoop that up from the dirt like a dog?" she said, glaring at him.

Her face never flinched. The dried black paint upon her face lent her statuesque features a fierce and fearsome air.

With a groan, he dropped to his knees and hastily started gathering the coins and gems again.

"I don't want your riches," said the witch. "What would I spend them on, fool? Those who share your creed are the ones that drove me out here. I do not trade with the people you call 'civilized'. Your coin is worthless to me."

He groaned again. Slammed a fistful of coins into the dirt. Then he met her cruel stare with an angry glare of his own.

"Then name your damned price. Is this not Witch Crossing?"

She arched a brow and asked, "Which crossing?"

"Witch Crossing. Witch doctor, are you not?"

"Which doctor?"

Though her play on words was lost on him, he knew she was mocking him.

Though the jumble of emotions and the torrent of pain afforded him no space to let go and relax, lest he lose his consciousness and die miserably without her aid, he knew better than to offend her. Likely, she reveled in the power she currently held over his life, like a sword hanging from a thread that dangled above his head.

Right now, she was the only thing standing between him and the jaws of death. The hollow eye sockets of skulls piled up nearby stared back at him, empty and uncaring and foreboding of the grim fate that awaited him.

He shouted at her, "Enough, woman! Do not mock me! I have slain capable warriors!"

"And you threaten to kill me before I can heal you? You are truly a foolish fool, pilgrim."

"I am no pilgrim," he said, sighing with resignation. Breaking eye contact, for she truly held all the power. He was at her mercy. "I am of the warriors who hunt down the savage cult of serpent-worshippers out here."

"Yes, I recognize the bronze symbol you wear around your neck, you fool. Martyr. Martyr and fool. You martyrs are all fools."

"Watch your tongue," he hissed at her.

His vision immediately blurred. Did she grin again in response to his threats? Or did his words simply not reach her, unable to penetrate a black heart devoid of all mercy?

"A cult hunting a cult, nothing of which I should concern myself with. Do you reckon I should draw their ire by aiding you?"

"Please," he begged.

He clasped his hands together, almost as whenever he did in prayer before the imposing statues of his god. Just as empty then, his gesture was empty now—all self-serving. Only a hoarse rasp escaped his throat, and words failed him.

She, however, continued to chide him, "Or must I expect your fellow faithful to march upon my home to harass me if I leave you out here to waste away from your own stupidity?"

"Please. Heal me," he croaked.

She suddenly stood closer. Had he even blinked? Having disappeared from her doorstep to standing suddenly in front of him, ten paces closer, eliciting a surprised gasp from him. He fell back, too much weight coming to rest upon his swollen leg—it had doubled in size since suffering the bite—and he emitted a piercing shout of pain before crumpling onto his side in response.

She crouched down beside him and grabbed him by his cheeks, squeezing and scrunching his face uncomfortably in between the fingers of one hand and her thumb as she wrenched his face around to stare into his eyes, up close.

He dared not resist. The sharp reminder, the throbbing agony flaring up from his snake-bitten calf, it pressed him to be wiser about crossing the savage witch of Witch Crossing.

In this unforgiving desert, where the snake worshippers reigned supreme and he had lost all his companions in battle against the heathens, this lonesome witch now posed his only hope.

After piercing his soul with her baleful gaze, she sneered at him and released him from her grip.

"Savage is what you call me."

"I have never," he protested. But not too loudly.

It was true that he had never named her thus—out loud. In his thoughts, however, that was exactly what she was to him.

Hex-bearer. Poison-maker. Child-slayer. Beast-lover. Man-eater.

"But your kin have, and you would ape their words in a heartbeat, just like you all ape your prayers to a god that never answers."

He bit his tongue.

She said, "Answer me honestly, for your life depends on it. Were the tables turned, would you aid me if I beseeched you?"

He swallowed, and it felt like swallowing a handful of gravel and grit. Her stare drilled deeper into his soul, and he knew better than to lie.

"No," he finally breathed.

Said the witch, "Truth. You would laugh in my face and leave me to rot among the sands and the beasts."

"And you would have me die like this? To right a wrong before it is even committed?"

He pleaded with her. With every fiber of his pain-wracked being, he pleaded. Not even by words, but by appealing to whatever shred of goodness might be left over in the darkest reaches of her being. He pleaded with his eyes, with his continued kneeling before this unbeliever.

"You are useless to me. I cannot even eat you, as envenomed as you are," she said.

She grinned at him. Toothy, bright white teeth, flawless. Too perfect for one who was said to taste human flesh. A grin that did not reach her eyes, all wicked and marveling at the pain that had brought him this low before her.

These were no idle words, he sensed. She truly ate people.

This was why they called her savage. Witch.

Monster.

The grin faded from her lips, hiding her teeth again. Could she read his thoughts?

"Perhaps you can be useful after all," she said. "If you do one thing for me, I shall do one thing for you. Your coin is of no use to me, but the arm that wields your axe may serve another purpose. It still holds strength and can carry your sorry hide on one more quest."

He gasped. Neither in confusion nor in pain, but in surprise.

"Name it," he breathed. Swallowing another lump in his throat.

The chance of living dangled in front of him while he spotted a mirage on the horizon. A gleaming light, a vision of his god, beckoning him to march on as bravely as he ever had. All in his mind, he understood, but it was his hope manifesting.

"Please, tell me what to do," he begged, focusing on meeting her unsettling gaze once more.

She pointed down the stream that crossed her oasis.

"There is a cave downstream. Follow the flow of water and you cannot miss it. In that cave dwells a beast, as strong as three men and all tooth and fang. Bring me its head. And I will heal you."

The shining light of his god on the horizon faded, making way to the shadow of death, creeping closer towards him once more.

"Y-you—you are out of your mind. As strong as three men? I am but one, and not even at full strength with this snakebite," he said, shaking his head. Breaking eye contact.

So close to salvation, yet so far. The silence she left to drape over them was deafening.

Motes of sand carried by the breeze lazily swept over them. Wind howled through the hollow of the skulls and the witch's hovel.

The skulls smiled at him. Mocked him just like she did.

Meeting her gaze again, he nodded in resignation. Unlike the skulls, she did not grin any longer, but the derision in her very existence got to him. It fed the anger in his belly. The futility of releasing it upon her was abundantly clear to him, only shoveling more coal into the flames of his impotent rage.

Yet—he now reckoned he could always kill her after she healed him.

He nodded again and groaned as he gripped one of the glyph-covered boulders and heaved himself back up onto his feet, swaying and wobbling where one of his legs failed to support him and his body threatened to stop obeying him altogether.

She helped him stand. Calloused fingers grazed his shoulder with surprising softness, sending tingles down his spine. To his surprise, she folded his fingers around the grip of his axe, ensuring that he held it firmly.

No more of her awful grins saw him off.

Instead, she pointed down the stream, prompting another nod from the warrior, for it took him more than a second to regain his sense of vision and discern which way the water flowed. The world spun around him in his dizziness, and every finer detail blurred into the bright sun's blinding light.

Though his hand gripped the axe more fiercely now, the weapon's blade soon trailed behind him in the dirt again, dragged in a weary hand too weak to lift it any longer, the head of the axe now scraping against rock and sand until he reached the edge of the water.

He lurched and stumbled downstream. By the time he was out of earshot from the witch, he recoiled and then bent forward, emptying his stomach of its contents, splattering the naked rock before him with his vomit.

The wind howled again, carrying dust across the rocky desert.

Once his shambling gait had carried him over the bend of several boulders, out of sight from the witch, she smiled to herself.

She smiled because she harbored no hopes of him ever slaying the beast. The saber-toothed cat that lived in that cave was her beloved pet. She had reared it from the day it had been a whelp.

She had lied as much as she could to the warrior-zealot, reckoning that he would have killed her once she healed him. The witch could have ended his life once he laid down to rest and eaten the warrior with ease; the venom in his flesh would not have harmed her. Nor would it harm her beloved cat.

However, she relished the thought of providing her pet with an easy snack.

She disappeared back into her hovel to continue working on her stew.

The warrior would never be seen again.

—Submitted by Wratts

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fall-to-rise-98 · 4 years ago

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Kingdom Fall:

Amity Reject

Before choosing Dauntless at her choosing ceremony and becoming a true Dauntless member Amity-born Anna never felt accepted in her faction, but she took a leap of faith and learned fast how to make it through initiation. She took her aptitude test and got Divergent though, having shown an affinity for three other factions: Abnegation, Erudite, and Candor. Peace was something she wasn’t accustom to and she had been known to become violent at times, so that ruled out Amity. Dauntless was for the brave and courageous, which she could manage. Although some fears she thought seemed permanently etched onto her soul. Before choosing Dauntless Anna had also never known true love, then she met Eric. The cold, stone-faced leader of the Dauntless initiates. They butted heads from the moment they met with Anna’s sarcastic, cynical personality and his quick temper. It took some time for Anna to break through Eric’s metal armor and as dangerous as she knew it was to be near him, her being Divergent, it excited her all the same. Her life was at risk being around Eric, but this was what she wanted when she left behind Amity: the chance to finally be free. If she had to die eventually, just for the sweet taste of freedom, then she was determined to go out with a bang.

A/N: Each post for this story may be short or long, depending on how much creative juice I can squeeze out. Each post may or may not be in order, just enjoy the ride. I will update as often as I can, since I am also writing another fanfic for Little Vampire on my main fanfiction account here ⎯ https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13791424/1/Sweet-But-Psycho. Also, trigger warnings abound: vulgar language, physical abuse, mental abuse, adult themes (y’all know what that means), mentions of suicide (won’t go into detail), death, and of course ⎯ violence.

The Choosing Ceremony: Part 2

Play With Fire

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I’m free.

I chose Dauntless.

I am Dauntless.

She almost couldn’t believe she got up the courage to spill her blood over the hot coals, but her decision was neither fast nor did she waste her time choosing.

It felt like, for a moment, Anna had been moving in slow motion. Her feet carried her from her seat in the Amity section of the crowd of people, all who watched her with baited breath. Waiting to see what she would do.

She knew most of them would have not expected her to choose Dauntless. But she had and she grinned broadly at the cheers that erupted among the brave soldiers.

She would be a brave soldier.

Daring a glance at her mother she strode calmly toward her new faction, not surprised in the least at finding the horror on the woman’s face. For the first time in her life Anna felt a sense of remorse, regretful of her decision to choose a faction that was not the one she grew up in.

The faction where her mother would endure the torture of Andrew alone.

The fear and worry on Kimberly’s face made Anna turn away at the last second, just missing the reaction Andrew had. A warning clasp of his hand around Kimberly’s wrist, a dagger-throwing glare on his face.

“Well, this certainly is a shocker! We got ourselves a transfer from Amity this year. At least there won’t be much competition, right?”

The voice came from her left, a male by the deep tone ⎯ confident, but raspy. When she turned to face the unfamiliar stranger she found he was looking her up and down, making her feel insecure and small.

Anna thought she would be able to withstand initiation. She had grown plenty of muscle over the years from helping out at the farm and training in private. Though she was a whopping five-foot-three inches Anna knew there was an advantage to her height many of the other initiates didn’t have.

She was fast and tiny.

A deadly weapon in a small package, she reminded herself.

Glaring at the man Anna scoffed, “You wish. Just because I’m from Amity doesn’t mean I am like them. I chose Dauntless for a reason and I don’t intend on making a fool in front of myself before I’ve even started training.”

He smirked at her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dauntless-born.

“You got a lot of spunk, kid. My name’s Dorian. Want some advice?”

Anna narrowed her eyes, studying the man for a moment. He was definitely taller than she was and had a lot more muscle than she did, but his mouth made him less attractive. She had always been a sucker for long hair and piercing eyes, but something about Dorian made a chill run down her spine.

“Not particularly, no. Especially not from an arrogant Dauntless-born. Are you sure you weren’t mixed up at birth with an Erudite?”

Dorian laughed at her, making his eyes wrinkle around the corners. “My advice to you is watch your tongue. That kind of lip may pass with the initiates, maybe some of the Dauntless-born, but if you smart off to a leader you may as well kiss that sweet ass goodbye. On the train to the factionless.”

She grunted and shook her head, keeping herself from rewarding Dorian with a sarcastic reply as she tightened her mouth into a straight line. He would only enjoy the witty banter, she had a feeling.

When the Dauntless started running out of the choosing ceremony Anna followed suit, at first focusing on her breathing as her legs pumped to keep up with the others. Then joining in on the fun as they all hollered and screamed excitedly. She wasted no time in climbing the structure that led up to where the train was rapidly speeding passed, the handles on the outside of the metal locomotive almost blurred to nothing.

But it wasn’t as hard getting onto the train as it seemed and soon, Anna was swinging her body sideways into one of the train cars. Six other initiates had transferred from the other factions with her, but only five made it safely onto the train. She took her time catching her breath and observing the others that were with her.

Three boys: two from Candor, one from Abnegation.

Two other girls: one from Erudite, one from Abnegation.

So it was one of the two Erudite girl’s who didn’t make it. The one that had made it on the train was staring solemnly out of the open door, a frown on her face which almost seemed misplaced with her pixie-like features. She had shoulder-length, spiky black hair and pale, green eyes.

The other Erudite girl must have been her friend, the one with the curly red hair. The loss of a close friend may or might not hinder her progress throughout the initiation process, which would be another advantage.

Anna looked away from the Erudite girl, no longer deeming her a possible threat. She decided to take a look at the other initiates who may or might not make things tricky for her.

The first Candor boy, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, stood as far as he could from the second. Both of them appeared to already share a rivalry with each other. They did not see her as a threat, neither did they glance in her direction.

The second Candor boy, dark-haired and gray-eyed, was glaring maliciously at the first. They must know each other, for there was obviously tension between the two. She moved on, looking from the two Candor transfers to the two transfers from Abnegation.

Unlike the pair of Candor boys the two Abnegation transfers were practically glued at the hip. One boy, one girl. The boy was average-height and lanky, but the girl by his side was the opposite. She was taller than he was and on the thicker side. They looked like puzzle pieces fit together.

They were a couple.

Another advantage Anna might be able to use.

When the Erudite girl gasped everyone poked up their head, “The Dauntless-born are jumping off of the train now!” She still stood at the open door, gaping at the sight of the black-clad members (as well as initiates) taking their leap onto the rooftop of a building. It looked like they were flying almost.

“Well, I guess that means we gotta jump too, otherwise we’ll be joining the factionless.” Anna spoke up for the first time since she left the ceremony and joined the other initiates in the train car, sliding up to the Erudite girl’s side with a smile on her face. “Are you scared?”

The Erudite girl snorted and narrowed her eyes at Anna, “I chose Dauntless. Of course I’m not scared. I don’t have a death wish either though.” “Wanna go together?”

A rare moment of Amity came out in Anna, offering her hand to the Erudite transfer. The girl looked suspiciously at her, but grabbed her fingers with a nod after a moment of deciding. Not even the Erudite girl viewed Anna as a threat and together they jumped off of the train.

The jump was short, but to Anna it felt like it too had gone in slow motion. Just like when her name was called during the choosing ceremony and she felt like her body was moving without the command from her brain.

Her stomach flopped at the brief thought of falling to her death and at some point during the jump she lost her hold on the Erudite girl’s hand, landing a few feet farther than the rest of the initiates.

It was obvious they weren’t used to running and jumping, but that was what Anna did for fun while no one else was watching. She also liked climbing trees. Sometimes she would hide away in the tree limbs, covered by the leaves that sprouted from the bark.

The others stared at her warily when she got to her feet and Anna could now see the gears turning in their heads, clearing her throat as she brushed the gravel from her bare knees. It was a good idea wearing the tank and shorts, but an even better idea to put on the sneakers she kept tucked away in the back of her closet.

They obviously did not prepare and were now regarding her with curiosity.

Before any words could spark between their group a new voice called out to them and her eyes went straight for the source of the sound. The Dauntless man was muscular for sure, his bicep looked about as big as her head. He was seemingly covered in tattoos, they showed on either side of his throat and on one of his forearms. Two piercings sat above his right eyebrow and two others stretched his earlobes.

Anna thought for a second he could be attractive, if he smiled.

Then his words finally registered once she got over her hormones, “My name is Eric and I am one of your new leaders among the Dauntless. Today you’ve chosen to become one of us, so now it’s our turn to choose you. You already jumped on and off the train, but that is only the beginning of your time here. If you want to become one of us, now you must jump off this building.”

What?

He wants us to jump off a building?

“Is something down there that will catch our fall?”

The second Candor boy looked nervous, but Eric did nothing to ease that nervousness. Eric’s next words only seemed to make the unease worse.

“Maybe, maybe not. Why don’t you find out? Unless you’d rather be factionless.”

This didn’t make any sense. Why would he want us to jump if it would kill us?

No one seemed eager to make the leap of faith, they all looked at each other.

So Anna stepped forward and the crowd parted for her, allowing her easy access to the ledge she may or may not die from jumping off of.

“I’ll go first since no one else seems to wanna make the first jump.”

Eric raised an eyebrow at her, examining her from head to toe. There was curiosity in his eyes, but also amusement. “Alright then.” He stepped down so she could step up and smirked she passed by, “An Amity transfer?”

She wasn’t even focusing on Eric until she heard those words come out of his mouth, turning to face him as she stood on the ledge. Her sneakers barely kept their grip on the edge of the rooftop and she wobbled briefly, but managed to keep her balance.

Nodding her head Anna couldn’t help the sound of Dorian’s voice in her head, echoing that she had better watch what she says. Especially around a Dauntless leader. “Yeah? Is that a problem, sir?”

Eric’s smirk widened, his steel-blue eyes glinting. His fingers twitched at the word sir, but bristled and curled at the sharp tone of her voice. “Not at a problem at all. I just find it interesting that you think you can handle our lifestyle, Amity.”

She glared back at Eric and bit her tongue, opting to keep her silence than be a smartass and get the boot before even starting her training as a Dauntless soldier. Giving the group of initiates and Eric a two-finger salute Anna stepped off the ledge finally, her back facing the black abyss as she fell.

To her doom?

No.

Into a net.

Anna wasn’t prepared for the spring, letting out a startled yelp, but once she stopped bouncing a grin tugged her lips back from her teeth. She was still grinning when a pair of hands pulled at the edge of the net, her body rolling out of the net and onto the cold floor.

The man facing her now raised both of his eyebrows, just as surprised as Eric had been. Though unlike Eric he had no piercings or visible tattoos and he had a nice tan. He glanced up at the sky like it was a mistake for her to be here, “A transfer from Amity? You must either be really brave or really stupid.”

With those words Anna’s grin turned once again into a glare.

“Maybe I’m a little bit of both? Really brave and really stupid.”

The man smiled at her, much more friendlier than Eric’s tight-lipped smirk, and he even let out a chuckle. Though it was gone as fast as it appeared.

“My name’s Four, I’ll be one of your trainers throughout initiation. What’s your name, initiate?”

Anna opened her mouth to reply, but just as quickly snapped her mouth shut and took a moment to think. Anna was her name in Amity. It was the name she grew up with, was given at birth, and has known throughout her whole life.

“Your name can’t be that hard to remember, can it? You can choose something else, you know. If you don’t want to keep your government name.”

Anna smiled then, “Any name I can think of?”

The man, Four, chuckled again. “Before I had my choosing ceremony and went through Dauntless training do you really think my parents gave me the name Four?”

She laughed and nodded her head, “Fair enough. Do I have to keep my last name too?”

“No. There are quite a few Dauntless members who only have one name.”

Anna tapped her finger on her chin for a moment, thinking of all the names she could come up with. Only one stood out to her, only one came to mind that she liked most. “Okay then. I think I know what name I want.”

“Finally, now we can get this train wreck on the road.”

“Nice to meet you, Four. My name’s Mallory.”

Four grinned and nodded his head, “Good choice.” Grabbing for her wrist he raised her arm over her head, shouting out, “First jumper! Mallory!”

(first story here: https://fall-to-rise-98.tumblr.com/post/643132699387772928/divergent-eric-oc)

#divergent #eric coulter #jai courtney #oc #fanfic #short story

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