#you are a blight on the name Benjamin

[ingloriousmuses]

An introduction to the muses:

— Vivian Kennedy, Inglourious Basterds. Known as the Lady Basterd, she is like a sister to the Basterds—- but don’t let her pretty face fool you. With sixty-seven scalps under her belt and a knife sharpened and poised for the sixty-eighth, she works to bring an end to the war, and glory to her brothers-in-arms.

— Tessa Nashton, The Green Hornet. Tessa is a socialite who finds herself entangled in the crime of her beloved city, and, finding herself in a serious bind that threatens her reputation, turns to none other than Benjamin Chudnofsky to eliminate the problem and clear her name.

— Tahlia Leigh, Water for Elephants. The Benzini Bros. Songbird is a singer with a heart of gold, and eyes only for August Rosenbluth, the recently divorced ringmaster who’s working to rebuild his circus and his life from disaster. She is a talented performer and a gentle soul, and, perhaps, the key to saving the circus from failure. (Bonus: I have an individual roleplay account for her! @benzinis-songbird . But I also write her here.)

— Delilah Raine, Django Unchained/Dead for a Dollar. The wife of an abusive, high-class man, Delilah lives a life of deception: by day she plays the role of a happy wife, and by night she cries herself to sleep while her husband drinks and curses. It is not until a bounty hunter rides into town that she begins to see hope —- and perhaps, a chance at true love.

— Stella, Epic. Stella was once a trusted servant of Queen Tara, before her death. In her grief, Stella swore to get revenge on those who killed the beloved queen. Her attempt at revenge was thwarted, and she was captured by Boggans, given to their warlord Mandrake as a gift. He had just lost a son, and yearned for an heir to his kingdom—- when he saw Stella brought before him, a recognizable member of the Queen’s handmaidens, a plan quickly formed.

— Matilda “Tilda” Leth, Spectre/No Time to Die. Tilda is the personal assistant-turned-lover of Ernst Stavro Blofeld, head of Spectre. As the keeper of many of his secrets, she finds herself tangled deeply in Spectre’s web. . . and soon finds herself carrying a secret of her own.

— Eleanora Sandvoort, Tulip Fever. Eleanora is the third wife and last great love of Cornelis Sandvoort. A dedicated and loving woman, she wants nothing more than to fill his quiet home with their children. Cornelis desires a legacy, and she’s prepared to give it to him.

— Lorraine Blight, Downsizing. Lorraine downsized with nothing left to lose. She worked a dead-end job; she didn’t have friends, and didn’t have a partner. Downsizing was a chance to start over, to perhaps move forward in life, and moving into a complex with lots of interesting people — including a certain Serbian playboy — gave her hope for everything she had yearned for.

— Ophelia Rom, Alita: Battle Angel. An ex-Zalemite who left to escape an abusive relationship, Ophelia is kept alive by technology on the back and base of her skull. She is very reclusive and withdrawn, but when she finds herself in need of repairs, turns to the well-loved Dr. Dyson Ido for help.

— Evelyn Warner, Most Dangerous Game. Little is known about Evelyn —- if that’s even her real name; nobody knows for sure. She’s a part of the Tiro Fund, and works alongside Miles and his crew to put on successful hunts all around the world. Her talent for theatrics makes her a valuable asset to the sport.

— Evangeline Rush, The Consultant. Evangeline’s job as a personal assistant is a difficult one, but with such an enigmatic and charming new boss as Regus Patoff, she finds coming to work gets a little more interesting each day. She begins to learn more about the man behind the name, and finds herself enamored with him.

— OC FOR GUILLERMO DEL TORO’S PINOCCHIO COMING SOON !

— OC FOR THE PORTABLE DOOR COMING SOON !

— OC FOR KOPFSTAND COMING SOON !

[fanaticfangirl001]

Tolerable, Dutiful, and Half A Brain

Chapter 1: The Presentation of Eloise Bridgerton And The Return of Lady Whistledown.

Anthony Bridgerton x OC Ottoline Greggett

Author's Note: No Kate or Edwina.

As Eloise’s morning begins horribly wearing a ridiculous white dress accessorized with a large feather plume adorning her head, she looks towards the moment after at the ball that she is amongst her  friends: Penelope and Ottoline adorning the walls of the palace like wallflowers. Although Penelope will not be attending due to morning. While Eloise begs her family not to utter a word as they leave for the palace. Ottoline stands with her brother’s already inside the palace waiting for the presentation of ladies. 

Ottoline Greggett stands an inch taller than her eldest brother Sebastian, the oldest of nine. Her long red hair is braided and pinned into an exquisite high bun. She wears a light blue silk dress with silver embroidery mimicking the stars that the late Lord Xavier Greggett, her father studied. He was an avid astronomer and scientist. A quality he passed onto all of his children, especially Ottoline. Her avidity for the pursuit of knowledge gives her a boring and too intelligent reputation among the men of the Ton. Her introverted nature keeping her towards the walls affects her reputation with the women of the Ton. They deem her to be insignificant to the season. Ottoline’s name had not graced the pages of Lady Whistledown’s papers. Not that it bothered Ottoline, she like Eloise did not put much stock in Lady Whistledown’s gossip. 

 At an age of twenty-two years Ottoline has not had a single legitimate suitor. Men typically visited her in order to pay a favor back to her eight older brothers: Sebastian, Alexander,Theodore,Nathaniel, Benjamin, William, Oliver, and Gabriel. Having so many brothers did come with its benefits but also its hindrances. The past seasons each brother found a bride, she put up with so many women interloping into her home and criticizing the way she lived over the course. Each lady and respective brother understood now that Ottoline was fine. Nothing wrong with her body or mind. Many of her sister in laws believe her to be beautiful and fairly gifted. She just wastes all the beauty that her mother bestode Ottoline with.The late Lady Seraphina Greggett was one of the most beautiful and charming women in Queen Charlotte’s court. This would be Ottoline’s fourth season as an eligible woman. 

As the palace begins to fill, Queen Charlotte speaks to Lady Dansbury. 

“I yearn for someone fresh, someone unexpected,to turn this season on its head. That is what we need.There is no room for indifference. Apathy is a blight the monarchy simply cannot endure.

“Of course, Your Majesty. But remember, A young lady cannot be a diamond until you anoint her as such. So if for any reason you do not find one among the candidates today .” Lady Dansbury is interrupted. 

“Do you think she will return?” The Queen asks “We have heard nary a peep from Lady Whistledown since last season ended. Perhaps the writer came to her senses. Perhaps she realizes taking on her Queen was a bad idea, and she will never publish again.” 

“It is a convincing theory, ma’m.” replies Lady Dansbury. 

“Or she simply left for the country as the rest of us did in the off-season,bored by the lack of any real gossip. You do know what that would make her then.”The Queen says with a realization. “One of us.” 

The Bridgerton ladies are in one carriage while the Bridgerton men are in another. The ladies prepare Eloise for her presentation as she melts in the blistering sun and ricochet snarky remarks.  The Bridgerton men discuss another matter completely. 

“My task this season cannot be exceptionally difficult. Hastings did it after all.How hard can it be?” Anthony starts. 

“Ah, spoken with such feeling too.” Benedict chimes in. 

“I do not need feeling.What I need is what I have, and that is a list.Tolerable, Dutiful, Suitable enough hips for childbearing, and and at least half a brain. And that last part is not so much a requirement but a preference in fact.” Anthony ends his list. 

The other brothers nod dismissively to Anthony’s lack of emotion. 

As the presentation begins Ottoline finds herself falling into her old patterns, stiffly standing in a corner of the wall beside her eldest brother Sebastian and his wife Arabella. Sebastian turns to his sister and whispers, “This season you’re tasked with finding a husband.” 

“It shouldn’t be that hard.” Arabella pipes in. “You are beautiful. I wished my hips were as full as yours.”  

“Thank you.” Ottoline whispers to her sister-in-law. Arabella being the nicest one. “I have a list.” She whispers to her brother. 

“A list of what?” Sebastian asks. 

“Qualities for my husband. If I’m to have one forever. I must find the best one.” Ottoline takes out a small notebook and shows her brother. 

“This isn’t one of your plant experiments. This is your life.” Sebastian takes the notebook into his coat pocket. 

“Exactly, and you want me to have the best life.” Ottoline tries to take it back as everyone else is watching the presentation of the ladies.

“What are the qualities?” asks Arabella. 

“ Tolerable,Dutiful, Responsible,Kind, Loyal, Handsome, and at least half a brain. That is not so much a requirement as it is a preference.” Ottoline answers hearing Eloise’s name being called. 

“You have the brains of a thousand men.” Sebastian smiles. 

“Thank you.” Ottoline nods. 

“It wasn’t a compliment.” Sebastian replies. 

“Sebastian. Be nice.” Arabella scolds lightly, smacking her husband with a fan. 

Sebastian sighs, “ All I want for you is a nice marriage to a nice gentleman, but do not take anyone’s affections for granted.” 

“What affections? Most of these men have visited me only to pay you a favor in return.” Ottoline says as the presentations grind to a halt with the arrival of Lady’s Whistledown’s papers.

“I have seen enough.” The Queen walks out. 

“Does this mean I can go.” Eloise asks, grabbed by her mother. 

“I don’t know what this means.” Violet answers letting go. 

Eloise runs back prompting Daphne to call out but remains in her line. The royal attendants begin passing out Lady Whistledown’s papers. 

Ottoline looks over Arabella’s shoulder as she reads. 

Dearest Gentle Reader, 

Did you miss me? 

The event ended early with the Lady Whistledown’s arrival back to the ton sparking rumors and speculation about who she might be. Ottoline rolls her eyes at those partaking in the speculation especially Arabella who multiple times suspected Ottoline. Arriving home early from the presentation Ottoline let her hair down, began reading and continued to make small annotations in the margins. 

[sekritjay]

It was his Mum who started it. She was always singing round the house, turning any stray remark into a rhyme, such as “Let’s go to the show, we have to go now, you know….” Uncle Everett added to it when he’d play the latest records from Jamaica at family parties, the men in their suits all dancing to reggae and ska while he, Benjamin the eldest, would add on verses about cooking. Then there was the time he was called to testify at church and made a rap of “Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus” and all the Bible books, forwards then backwards. The pastors named him Zephaniah after that, a prophet’s name. So when people said later that he ought to be a painter, or a car mechanic, he clung to what he’d known since he was eight years old: he was going to be a poet, poet, poet.

They said, you can’t make a living that way. He was sure he could. It didn’t need much, just “a pencil full of lead…light and fine,…[that] moves with me through space and time”, and a mind burning with ideas. The first of which was, that he didn’t like poetry much. The world Wordsworth wandered in wasn’t his: Birmingham’s poor black end, all grey tin baths, grey pavements, grey sky, or London, “magnificent through its pollution”. He wanted to write about the lives of people now, walking those streets: struggling to survive with social services cut, lied to by politicians, oppressed by authority right and left without even knowing it. And then, as important as writing, he wanted to stir those people up by standing on a stage and letting rip the verse of fire.

He could make them laugh, too, before jabbing in a serious point. Britain’s diversity, for example, was worth celebrating, a pot of Picts and Celts to which had been added Romans, Saxons, Normans, Afghans, cool Jamaicans, fresh Indians, Pakistanis, Bosnians, Turks, all sorts. Let simmer; add respect. But “treating one ingredient better than another will leave a bitter unpleasant taste”.

Nowhere was the bitterness sharper than in black Britain. It was his main theme. As a child he ached with shame when schoolmates brought their favourite golliwogs to class; as a youth, a naughty boy deep in gangs, rackets and thieving, he’d felt these were the only options open. But even as a dread Rasta strolling real and regal down the street, with his poetry and novels in every bookshop and his face on TV, he still felt unsure about asking a policeman the time. Black males were stopped and searched five times more than white men. When young black men were killed, like Stephen Lawrence, white killers got off. When black men like his cousin Michael and a whole litany of others died in custody, there was no inquiry. And when a white woman sat well away from him on the Tube, was that because he was black?

Black people do not have Chips on their shoulders, They just have injustice on their backs

When Nelson Mandela was in prison he wrote a tribute to him, and when South Africa cast off apartheid he hosted a concert for him at the Royal Albert Hall. But he was all too aware that the legacy of colonialism still blighted equality even in Britain, the land paved with gold.

Some black entertainers sold out, of course. They thought going to the Palace and sipping champagne proved how far they had come. He couldn’t do that shit. The queen had met him backstage once, a nice old lady, but No Monarchy was his motto. In 2003 the establishment tried to award him the Order of the British Empire; he threw that thought straight back. If there was anything he had railed against all his life, it was the empire and all its works.

People sometimes got the strange idea that he had softened. Perhaps it was because he was interviewed on the BBC and went into schools to teach children to love words, have fun with them and think again about eating animals, who were people too:

Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas Cos’ turkeys just wanna hav fun… It could be yu mate, an not on your plate…

He also worked for the British Council, though mostly to prove that British poetry was reggae and dub as well as Keats. Murmurs even arose that he could be poet laureate. But then he would declare yet again that capitalism would eat itself to death, and urge people to break the law every day just to prove they weren’t entirely under control: by speeding, or wanking at the bus stop. At which point the establishment would cry, “Fuck! He’s still militant!”

His anger did indeed burn a long, long time. So many causes inflamed him. He wrote, and worked for charities, to address all the suffering he heard of: war victims, abused women, the homeless, refugees (“We can all be refugees. Sometimes it only takes a day”). His duty was to drag into the daylight injustice everywhere. On the cover of his anthology of 2001, “Too Black, Too Strong”, with poems about East Timor and Palestine as well as his home cities, his fist punched out smack in the reader’s face.

Yet he did have a more reflective side. It showed as he got older, when he moved to the remote Fens of eastern England, grew his own organic vegetables and thought more about “the African heart deep in my Brummie chest”. Religion, he had long ago decided, gave God a bad name. After trying and rejecting several, he took Buddha as his hero and self-knowledge as his creed. Meditation gave him a direct line to the creator, and didn’t blunt his anger. In fact, one wouldn’t work without the other.

When good at last triumphed over evil, as he was sure it would, he hoped it might be partly due to the poetry he had sown in people’s heads, especially young heads. The love of words, the drive of rhythm, the search for justice; the sense of prophetic power.

I used to think nurses were women, I used to think police were men, I used to think poets were boring, Until I became one of them.

[nomdepen]

“If that's the case, I’ll be sure to address you as ‘Mister’ every now and again, just to be maintain the peace. Though it is an awful shame. ‘O Magnificent One’ would suit you well.” Scrunching her nose, Pen nods in satisfaction. “Ben, then.”

Ben and Pen. She didn’t hate the sound of it. It sounded like a pair of names she’d find carved into a tree in a corner of Hyde Park as a secret declaration of affections. She imagined what his name would look like in ink, scribbled across the pages of her diary as she recorded the day's events.

“Despite my prior claims, I cannot deny there are worse ladies to be seduced by.” One Cressida Cowper came to mind and Pen’s jaw clenched. The sheer thought of Cressida trying to seduce someone like Benjamin made her chest ache in a way that she couldn’t explain. Jealousy? No, it couldn’t be jealousy. It hardly made sense for her to be jealous over someone she’d only just met, but how could she be any other way when the entire ton knew how vile Cressida could be when provoked? Surely, Pen would feel empathy for any gentleman that had the misfortune of becoming a target of the Cowper girl.

“Ben, if we are to be friends, you must stop apologizing.” She shook her head, knitting her brows as she spoke. “I’d be an awful friend if I made you feel as though you could not speak freely in my presence." Letting out a sigh, she continued. "And, truth be told, I believe I’ve already been an awful friend enough for one lifetime. I’m eager to reform myself.”

He offers a bow in return and it feels like a thousand thunderbolts skitter through her body. For a moment, she wonders if he’ll kiss her hand. An innocent gesture-- a respectful one at that-- but one that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle with complete composure. She’d had men old enough to be her grandsire lay their lips upon her hand and never felt anything apart from revulsion. The mental image of Ben’s lips anywhere near her, however, was enough to make her dizzy.

So dizzy, in fact, that a part of her feared she might be experiencing a blight of apoplexy. Her mother had warned her that it ran in the family. Her dear old Aunt Petunia had suffered more than one episode before she finally cocked her toes up. So, it would make sense. A simple case of apoplexy would thoroughly explain the irregular beating of her heart. And, surely, the strange, obsessive thoughts that had begun to plague her, as well as the spreading fever across her skin.

As she met his eyes, Pen suddenly felt lighter. As though her outer shell had finally given way to the pressure of expectations. The pleasantries had been endured and, indeed the worst parts of any meeting, had concluded. Moments before they were strangers, but now they were friends. Penelope couldn’t think of the last friend she’d had that hadn’t been a member of the Bridgerton family. Or the last person she'd befriended that hadn't done so out of pity.

“It seems you’re in luck, then. I happen to be rather adept at being both tragic and insipid. True, I couldn’t think of a more tragic girl in all of Mayfair.” She smirks, moving her arm to gesture to the space around them. Nervously, she gently chews the inside of her cheek. With each step, she inches closer to him, allowing her arm to settle into his.

If Portia could see the two of them promenading so gaily, she’d fly into a heated lecture about how her actions affected the entire Featherington name.

If Eloise saw the way her cheeks flushed each time Benjamin spared her a passing glance, she’d have no problem making playful jests about her obvious obsession with loving any man that paid her even the slightest bit of attention.

And if Colin saw them… Pen was sure he wouldn’t care. Why should he? They were friends, after all. Just friends.

With only the two of them to bear witness their meeting, Pen moved with a strange sense of bravery. As reckless as it might’ve seemed last night, she’s glad that she suggested an unchaperoned outing. It had been risky, and arguably still was, but she'd said it herself: opening one's heart to another was a risk.

“Me?” She blinked, suddenly unsure of her own name. “I suppose most people just call me Pen. My mother calls me Penelope. And my sisters… Well, my sisters have a tendency to call me things I wouldn’t dare to repeat in the light of day." A sudden wave of paranoia rises in her chest and she gently grabs for his arm. "Please do not tell them I told you that."

She can almost imagine the expressions her sisters would make should they ever find out what Pen had said. The twitching vein in Prudence's temple would no doubt pop out, and her jaw would clench so tight that Pen would be worried she'd shatter her teeth. Philippa would be more likely to take it to heart, mortified that her baby sister was willing to risk their reputation for a moment of cathartic release. Both would find ways to apologize and berate her in one fell swoop.

"You, however," She relaxed, quickly returning her hand to her side. "You're free to call me whichever name you find suitable. Though, I must admit, I’m not terribly fond of Penny.”

"Oh, believe me, Miss Featherington: if I truly felt as such, I would never allude," Benjamin replied, matching her impish smirk. "That's not to say I've left people crying, of course, but I'm a man who prefers honesty, no matter how direct. Still..." He gave her an amused once-over. "Your desire to challenge is intriguing. I wasn't aware you had such a forthright tongue...something that makes you far from insipid, by the way."

Penelope regarded him with an arched brow, her warm, vibrant eyes taking on a coy slant that skittered across his heart and made his cheeks burn.

"I wouldn't mind Mister," he allowed, "but in truth, my father calls me Benjamin...it seems far too formal for a friend." Here, he smiled almost wistfully, a gradual lightening in his stance. "I would ask that you call me Ben. Mostly because 'O Magnificent One' was already taken."

Affliction?

Benjamin breathed a soft laugh, the warmth in his face spreading toward his neck and chest. "I suppose I am weak when it comes to the fairer sex, yes," he allowed, "and seeing how I did request to see you again, it would seem your 'seductions' worked quite well."

A jolt speared through him at such a quip, his face briefly alighting with embarrassment. It wasn't as though he had no control of his tongue, and yet somehow, in Penelope's presence, he found himself far too free with his off-hand remarks.

"I'm sorry, ah...that was inappropriate," he fumbled. "I only meant...I-I feel comfortable speaking with you, and it's been quite some time since that has happened. I didn't mean to use such bawdy words."

Regardless of his blunder, Penelope came to a stop and curtsied, her chin tucking inward as she made the proper introductions.

On impulse, Benjamin took her gloved hand and bowed at the waist. He thought of brushing a kiss against her knuckles, but in light of his past quips, the gesture seemed too flirtatious, too forward, and he genuinely feared he might startle her away after such a promising start.

Instead, Benjamin gently squeezed her hand and rose again with a smile. "'Finally' just about sums up my thoughts on the matter, as well," he replied. "I wish I'd made the effort far sooner."

Falling into step alongside her again, he chuckled at her assessment, pausing to tuck her hand into the crook of his arm. "Well, I must warn you: I require the company of only the most tragic and insipid. Though I must ask: do you have a moniker you prefer?" His brow creased in thought, mulling it over. "I find Penelope to be a lovely name -- very unique, where I'm from -- so it stands to reason that you deserve an equally unique moniker. Perhaps Nelle? Penny?"

[sirfrogsworth]

Here’s a hot take from conservative pundit and massive transphobe music fan, Ben Shapiro. Normally I would tackle the more serious topics Ben discusses, but this really felt like it deserved a response. 

Though, if I wanted to take a more serious angle, I suppose I could make the argument that rap is a huge part of the black community’s cultural identity & heritage and by belittling it, Ben is insulting and diminishing one of a marginalized group’s main creative outlets used to communicate their struggles. 

But that would be racist! 

Ben isn’t racist! 

He is constantly explaining over and over just how not-racist he is. Which is what all non-racists have to do. Right? 

So this has nothing to do with racism and Ben has some solid FACTS explaining why.  

HE LIKES JAZZ, OKAY? 

AND OPINIONS ARE NEVER RACIST... I GUESS?

EVEN THOUGH HE SAID IT WAS A FACT.

THAT WAS LIKE THE FIRST THING HE SAID. 

“FACT:”

I’M SO CONFUSED AND I THINK I’m going to turn capslock off now. 

To be clear, this will just be a casual, not-serious analysis of Ben’s totally not-racist FACT that rap is not-music. 

Let’s get this not-party started...

You see, Ben is famous for his motto, “Facts don’t care about your feelings.”

He’s even leveraged his factual wisdom and made it into merchandise. 

That’s a real thing people can buy. It even has 6 whole reviews on Amazon! 

Amazon customer Beyond the Box rated it with 3 stars saying, “It's okay but small.” 

(Aww, okay but small! Just like the 5′9″ brainchild who coined the phrase.)

Reviewer Tim S. described the shirt’s fit as, “Liberals are destroying the country.”

(I’m pretty sure that means it’s a tad itchy. Helpful review, Tim!)

Before I saw Ben’s factual tweet, I really FELT like rap was an amazing musical artform. It took poetry and made it musical. It gave people a new way to express themselves that didn’t require expensive music lessons or even instruments. You didn’t even have to be able to sing! A friend could just bang out a beat on a table while you let those rhymes flow. It made creating music more accessible. And as long as you had decent rhythm you could participate. It FELT groundbreaking at the time. 

The very first cassette tape I bought was Good Vibrations by Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. (I know that isn’t a great start, but I was like 10, okay?) The very first compact disc I bought was 2 Legit 2 Quit by MC Hammer. (Don’t laugh, he was the bomb in 1991.) As I reached my formative years, I started listening to DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince, Beastie Boys, and House of Pain. 

I jump’d around. (squeeEEEEEee)

But as some of you may have noticed, most of my musical selections were very mainstream. You’ve probably also noticed that I am very... white. 

I think it is a chronic condition. 

My skin is nearly translucent due to lack of sunlight. I often say things like “indubitably” and “bloviate” and “I’m sure this chicken will be fine with minimal seasoning.” And at one point I owned the entire Creed discography. 

Before I get “those” comments... I am not ashamed of my whiteness. Nor am I guilty about it. I was just in desperate need of a hip-hop education. 

Using the official Rules of Republican Conduct™, if I want to talk with authority about something with a racial component, all I need is a single black friend.  

Interesting Froggie Fun Fact... I went to a mostly black high school! 

Check this out...

That’s TWO black friends! 

Shawn is the one teaching me a complicated handshake I instantly forgot. And Marcus is photobombing us in the back there. 

I wish I could say our school was super progressive and everyone got along dandy. But in the mid-90s that just wasn’t the case. There were no major conflicts, but a lot of the white kids would sort of... self-segregate. They’d all choose lockers in the same alcove. They’d sit in the same area at lunch and in class. Cross-fraternization was rare unless an extracurricular activity was involved. And not a lot of them would interact with black kids outside of school. 

That said, I did not get the segregation memo. I talked to and got along with everyone. I’m not saying I was some amazing colorblind trailblazer crossing racial boundaries at every turn. My locker was in the white section too. And I only had two black friends (not pictured) that I hung out with outside of school. 

But I do think humor can break down a lot of barriers. And I used comedy to cross those invisible lines from time to time. 

Do you remember “Yo Mama” jokes? 

Like uhhh... Yo mama so old, her social security number is 1.  Yo mama so lazy, she stuck her nose out the window and let the wind blow it. Yo mama so classless, she’s a Marxist utopia.

You get it. 

Before school or before class, a lot of kids would have these competitions. They would face off with their best motherly insults and typically the person who received the loudest “OH DAAAAAAMMMMN!” would be declared the winner. 

One day I just kind of decided to make fun of Shawn’s mama. Perhaps a risky move in hindsight, but when I think of a good joke, I’m compelled to set it free with reckless abandon. 

After a few seconds of stunned silence I got the loudest OH DAMN of anyone.

We were instantly friends. 

And then his friends were my friends too! It’s a moment even my electroshock therapy could not erase. 

Again, I wasn’t disrupting the rampant self-segregation or affecting major change at our school. Our friendship didn’t go outside the school premises. It ended after graduation and I have no idea what they’re up to these days. But it was still a lot of fun joking around with them when we were supposed to be doing homework.

After my acceptance into the group, Shawn and I started a sort of cultural exchange. He would tell me about all of the amazing music he was into. And I explained why Batman: The Animated Series was not a kid’s cartoon. IT WAS ANIMATION. (I was unusually sensitive about that in high school.)    

He introduced me to a wide range of artists of color. Old and new (at the time). We talked about Boyz II Men, Stevie Wonder, Michael Jackson, Prince. He introduced me to Mary J Blige who I follow to this day. And Aaliyah :(

He also taught me all about not-music. 

You know... rappers. 

I’ll be honest, sometimes this was challenging for me. I did not like or understand everything he suggested. I had a lot of racist baggage leftover from an all-white Catholic elementary school (some of which still lingers deep in my subconscious) and my brain resisted for longer than I care to admit. But after seeing Shawn’s passion for this not-music, I became rap-curious and willing to keep an open mind. 

Let me try to name-drop from memory... 

Puff Daddy, Lauryn Hill, Wu-Tang Clan, Naughty By Nature, Snoop Dogg, Nate Dogg, Dr. Dre, Biggie Smalls, Ice Cube, and some guy named Tupac Shakur. You’ve probably never heard of him. 

He’d even sneak a Walkman in his backpack so he and his friends could sample his latest acquisitions. 

He’d be like, “Hey Ben, you want to listen to some Master P?” And I’d be like, “Sure! You wanna listen to Nine Inch Nails?” And he’d be like, “Naw, I’m good.”

Okay, so the cultural exchange could be a bit one-sided at times. 

But Batman bonded us all.

When I was at home, I still mostly listened to Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, and Stone Temple Pilots on repeat. I am not trying to present myself as this epic rap connoisseur. And I do not listen to a great deal of hip-hop these days. Mostly due to lack of guidance. I don’t have a Shawn in my life anymore.

Shawn was able to get me to a place where even if I didn’t like what I was listening to, I understood why other people enjoyed it. Rap had this amazing history spanning decades. It always reflected society back on itself and provided relatable experiences for people who were underrepresented in other forms of media. 

You don’t have to like something to understand why it is important. 

I learned to truly appreciate rap and many of Shawn’s suggestions made an appearance on my super rad 90s Winamp playlist. 

Sometimes when I was having a bad day, it was nice to have a good day to fall back on. 

So when I was very whitely bobbing my head to the beat of that communal Walkman, I didn’t think my friends were stupid. I didn’t think I was stupid. I didn’t FEEL stupid.

But facts are facts. And my feels about facts don’t matter.  

So who is this Ben Shapiro: God of Facts?

Ben Shapiro is known for being a master debater. You can find videos of him CRUSHING LIBRULS WITH LOGIC. Or DESTROYING FEMINISTS with TRU FACTS. Perhaps even DEMOLISHING SOCIALISTS with STATISTICS. 

At least that is what his YouTube video titles want you to think. 

Yeesh. 

I think these delightful titles started with his fanboys. They’d get all orgasmic after witnessing some “amazing” rebuttal and then post these clips with promises of a verbal massacre. But, in a show of pure ego, Ben decided he would also follow this naming convention and he now titles his own videos the same way. 

That’s not at all cringy, Ben. You’re just being meta! Contributing to a meme everyone loves. No one thinks it is sad. 

I made a compilation of Ben’s greatest titles of DESTRUCTION which you can find here. 

Some notable examples...

First, we have Ben facing off against his OWN WIFE! Who is a totally real person and A DOCTOR.

Did you know his wife is a doctor? You can tell by the title. And the description. And by the stock image of a lady doctor he used instead of an actual picture of his wife... who is a doctor. 

It’s actually an obnoxious adorable video in which he recalls an amusing anecdote about his sitcom marriage... to a doctor. His “hilarious” story (as described by the video description) is all about how he gets angry at his doctor wife for losing her phone. And when they find out it was under her seat the whole time, he suggests wanting to murder her and hide her body in a lake. SO HILARIOUS!

Also, if you wish to purchase Ben Shapiro’s doctor wife (who is a... nurse?), it is $65 for Standard Definition. 

Sometimes Ben’s clever clickbait titling system backfires a little. 

When I initially read these I thought Ben had solved some major societal problems. 

Wow! Thanks, Ben! Those issues were really escalating lately and it was getting scary. Because of you, there is no more racism. No more privilege. Just pure equality. I feel like an updated version of Imagine is due. 

Other times these titles kinda make Ben seem like a mass murderer.

I’ve got some sad news. All of your favorite musicians are dead. 

They will be missed. 

And then my favorite one of all...

Apparently Ben used time travel to go back and ANNIHILATE SOCIALISM at the source. 

Yes, Ben loves to debate. He just can’t help himself. His big Harvard brain is pretty relentless when it comes to DESTROYMOLISHING The Left.  

He’s great at taking standard conservative talking points, couching them in academic speak, and peppering them with dubious facts that don’t always hold up to scrutiny afterward. 

In some of his videos, he’ll take statements out of context, misrepresent people’s arguments, and then deliver a rant he has had plenty of time to prepare for. Unlike the amazing Shaun, who makes sure to present the opposing argument as truthfully as possible while even encouraging people to watch the original video he is critiquing. 

I will give Ben credit in one regard. He does actually argue with people face to face on a regular basis. But more often than not, his “debates” are not actually that spectacular. One side makes their points. Ben makes his points. And people will perceive a “victory” based on what they personally believe. 

Like if Ben says “ABORTION BAD!” and you also think “ABORTION BAD!” then you’d be like, he totally CRUSHED that SJW BABY KILLER. 

But, in the end, the issue is still stuck in a stalemate as it has been for decades. 

Being good at debate prep does not make Ben correct. He is just very confident in his wrongness. 

Ben rarely goes into a situation where he doesn’t know what topics he will be discussing. He also knows pretty much every question he could possibly be asked. Some might even argue Ben often cherry picks his opponents and the subject matter, creates scenarios and chooses platforms where his point of view will be well received, and uses bad faith tactics to give the appearance of the upper hand. Then that is all polished and edited to make perfect YouTube soundbites.

But all of that is speculation and this post is about FACTS. 

Ben’s facts are just too powerful to dispute. I doubt anyone is up to the challenge. Not even a transgender woman with epic makeup, glorious costumes, creative lighting schemes, and a degree in philosophy could take him to task. 

It’s just... unpossible.

*cough* Contrapoints *cough*

Sorry, had a froggie in my throat. 

SO... now that we know Ben is a Harvard educated 5′9″ agent of DESTRUCTION, let’s see him defend “rap isn’t music” using his fancy debating skillz. 

It took him 6 years to come up with this, so I’m betting it’s bulletproof. 

Ben Shapiro DESTROYGASMS hip-hop with UNDERWHELMING TWEET.

CHECKMATE, RAPPERS!

WAIT, I GET IT. 

He plays CLASSICAL music. 

If you’ll allow me to expound his logic, being a classically trained musician makes you more special than a regular musician. It makes him an arbiter of what is and is not music. I forgot that classical musicians were automatically given that power. 

I know Ben only ever presents facts, so I’d like to take him at his word, but I think I’d like to see this music meister perform something. Just to be sure he has the proper classical credentials to make these bold claims. 

Here is a music video he produced for The Daily Wire. It’s clearly a high budget homage to one of the most thrilling television themes in recent history.  

Did anyone else feel like they were watching 3 emotionless robots play the blandest arrangement ever conceived? 

Or was that just me? 

SUCH ENERGY. 

I will say, those special effects were... something. 

And Ben really PWNED CNN. I’m sure they felt that slice all the way in their Atlanta headquarters. 

Ben, if you’re reading this, that video was totally funny in the way you intended. People are definitely laughing with you and not at you. I didn’t cringe even a little. 

But does this prove that Ben is a proper CLASSICAL musician? With all the power and privileges that entails? 

Does he have the authority to judge musical worthiness?

Despite his robotic performance, I suppose he did hit all the correct notes and everything. 

Is music like facts? Does music care about your feelings? 

I think what we need is a comparison. Something we can judge Ben’s performance against in order to gauge his level of classical musicianship. 

This is Tina Guo.

She is a Chinese-American immigrant from Shanghai. She moved here at the age of 5. She probably was able to sneak in because there wasn’t a border wall yet. She is taking the jobs of American classical musicians. Which is probably why Ben isn’t in a top-tier symphony orchestra as we speak. 

Tina is a cello prodigy who was trained classically. She attended the USC Thornton School of Music for professional cello studies on a full scholarship where she studied under Nathaniel Rosen and Eleonore Schoenfeld--some of the most influential cellists of the 20th century. 

As a teenager, she made a huge splash on YouTube by casually playing Flight of the Bumblebee. No biggie. I’m sure Ben can play that too. 

Oh, and do you remember that badass Wonder Woman theme written by famous composer Hans Zimmer?

That was her playing the lead.

Now for the comparison. 

Watch Librul Immigrant DESTROY the Game of Thrones theme that she produced, recorded, and arranged ALL BY HERSELF without the help of a BIG STRONG MAN.

I don’t know. 

I think that was a smidge better than Ben’s version. 

What do you folks think? 

So here is the dilemma. 

We have two CLASSICAL musicians who are at nearly identical skill levels...

HOWEVER... after some investigation... 

It’s possible Tina Guo thinks rap... might be music.

*GASP*

THE EVIDENCE

One of her favorite ways to practice improvisation is to jam along with hip-hop backing tracks she finds on YouTube.   

Now, conservatives like Ben LOVE dictionary definitions. It’s their go-to debate tactic when trying to legitimize the idea that there is “racism” toward white folks. So let’s use the dictionary really quick. 

When I looked up what this “jamming” word meant, it sent me to “jam session.” 

I was shocked by what I found.

Musicians? MUSIC? But those backing tracks she practiced with are used for rap non-music. 

BEN I AM CONFUSED.

I think I need to dig deeper. TO GOOGLE!

After scouring the internet for almost 2 minutes I was able to find something even more shocking.

Here is LIBRUL CLASSICAL SNOWFLAKE IMMIGRANT FEMINIST MUSICIAN sharing the stage with a NON-MUSIC RAP ARTIST CUCK.

That kinda looks like Tina Guo... and LUPE FIASCO. 

*DOUBLE GASP*

And I’ve double checked this... it seems this Lupe fellow is definitely a rapper. 

WHAT IS GOING ON HERE? 

I mean, she has her cello. And he has a microphone. But it’s a FACT that rap isn’t music. So I guess they are doing some experimental anti-music performance together. 

ANOTHER SHOCKING IMAGE HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION AFTER ANOTHER 12 SECONDS OF GOOGLING.

What the heck, Tina? 

Why are you, A CLASSICAL MUSICIAN, on a stage with Common? Another rapper! 

I’m a little worried Tina might be stupid. 

Ben’s FACT clearly states if you think rap is music, then you are stupid. 

And not only is Tina playing music near a rapper... I’m pretty sure she is playing music WITH a rapper. 

That’s like... double stupid. 

I really don’t know what to feel about these facts I’ve uncovered. 

These FACTS kinda FEEL like bullshit. 

I’m probably wrong. 

Or maybe it is a fluke! 

All of Ben Shapiro’s other facts have been incontrovertible.

For instance, I can take comfort in the absolute fact that Ben Shapiro is a solid 5 feet 9 inches tall. It gives me solace knowing he can ride any roller coaster he wants.

Sick burn, Ben. Though you’re kind of implying that when Milo sees you he is giving you blowjobs. I’m sure you’re fine with that implication. It’s not like you’re homophobic or anything, right? You keep saying you aren’t over and over again. 

The important thing is that everyone knows you’re a big boy. Two inches taller than Napoleon! Small but okay! 

I mean, it would be silly to lie about such a thing so easily disproved, right? And there is nothing to be ashamed of if you are a shorter individual. My mom is short and I think she’s the best! 

So I’m confident you are 5′9″ as you have stated.  

I CAN’T FEEL ANY MORE FACTS, BEN. 

MY SOUL CAN’T TAKE IT. 

You know what... screw it. 

I’m going to make this a little serious. 

Not liking rap isn’t racist. 

Telling people they are stupid for liking rap is super racist. 

And being too stubborn to apologize for a 6-year-old tweet compounds that racism. 

Liking jazz is just the musical version of “I have a black friend.” 

Not understanding that rap is a cultural staple vital to the black community and then comparing it to frickin’ Titanic makes it profoundly racist.

And... *takes a deep breath* continually defending a shitty 6-year-old tweet as recent as last July, even though you could probably just apologize, blame it on youthful ignorance, delete it, and never have to deal with it again, just because you can’t admit you ever said anything wrong... 

Well, that just makes you look...

[littlemisswaltz]

an introduction to my ocs :

the Christoph Waltz movies/TV edition .

Feel free to ask me anything you’d like about them!

— Vivian Kennedy, Inglourious Basterds. Known as the Lady Basterd, she is like a sister to the Basterds—- but don’t let her pretty face fool you. With sixty-seven scalps under her belt and a knife sharpened and poised for the sixty-eighth, she works to bring an end to the war, and glory to her brothers-in-arms.

— Tessa Nashton, The Green Hornet. Tessa is a socialite who finds herself entangled in the crime of her beloved city, and, finding herself in a serious bind that threatens her reputation, turns to none other than Benjamin Chudnofsky to eliminate the problem and clear her name.

— Tahlia Leigh, Water for Elephants. The Benzini Bros. Songbird is a singer with a heart of gold, and eyes only for August Rosenbluth, the recently divorced ringmaster who’s working to rebuild his circus and his life from disaster. She is a talented performer and a gentle soul, and, perhaps, the key to saving the circus from failure. (Bonus: I have a roleplay account for her! @benzinis-songbird)

— Delilah Raine, Django Unchained/Dead for a Dollar. The wife of an abusive, high-class man, Delilah lives a life of deception: by day she plays the role of a happy wife, and by night she cries herself to sleep while her husband drinks and curses. It is not until a bounty hunter rides into town that she begins to see hope —- and perhaps, a chance at true love.

— Stella, Epic. Stella was once a trusted servant of Queen Tara, before her death. In her grief, Stella swore to get revenge on those who killed the beloved queen. Her attempt at revenge was thwarted, and she was captured by Boggans, given to their warlord Mandrake as a gift. He had just lost a son, and yearned for an heir to his kingdom—- when he saw Stella brought before him, a recognizable member of the Queen’s handmaidens, a plan quickly formed.

— Matilda “Tilda” Leth, Spectre/No Time to Die. Tilda is the personal assistant-turned-lover of Ernst Stavro Blofeld, head of Spectre. As the keeper of many of his secrets, she finds herself tangled deeply in Spectre’s web. . . and soon finds herself carrying a secret of her own.

— Eleanora Sandvoort, Tulip Fever. Eleanora is the third wife and last great love of Cornelis Sandvoort. A dedicated and loving woman, she wants nothing more than to fill his quiet home with their children. Cornelis desires a legacy, and she’s prepared to give it to him.

— Lorraine Blight, Downsizing. Lorraine downsized with nothing left to lose. She worked a dead-end job; she didn’t have friends, and didn’t have a partner. Downsizing was a chance to start over, to perhaps move forward in life, and moving into a complex with lots of interesting people — including a certain Serbian playboy — gave her hope for everything she had yearned for.

— Ophelia Rom, Alita: Battle Angel. An ex-Zalemite who left to escape an abusive relationship, Ophelia is kept alive by technology on the back and base of her skull. She is very reclusive and withdrawn, but when she finds herself in need of repairs, turns to the well-loved Dr. Dyson Ido for help.

— Evelyn Warner, Most Dangerous Game. Little is known about Evelyn —- if that’s even her real name; nobody knows for sure. She’s a part of the Tiro Fund, and works alongside Miles and his crew to put on successful hunts all around the world. Her talent for theatrics makes her a valuable asset to the sport.

— Evangeline Rush, The Consultant. Evangeline’s job as a personal assistant is a difficult one, but with such an enigmatic and charming new boss as Regus Patoff, she finds coming to work gets a little more interesting each day. She begins to learn more about the man behind the name, and finds herself enamored with him.

— OC FOR GUILLERMO DEL TORO’S PINOCCHIO COMING SOON !

— OC FOR THE PORTABLE DOOR COMING SOON !

— OC FOR KOPFSTAND COMING SOON !

[sadoeuphemist]

A Catalogue and Comparison of Common Elements Found in Three Different Boys’ Detective Stories:

Being,

Alfred Hitchcock and The Three Investigators in: The Mystery of the Stuttering Parrot, by Robert Arthur Harvey’s Wacky Parrot Adventure, by Eth Clifford Private Eyes: Adventures with the Saturday Gang, by Lee Kingman

(spoilers for all to follow)

1. The Mystery-Solving Gang:

Stuttering Parrot: Bob Andrews, Pete Crenshaw, and Jupiter Jones

Harvey’s Parrot: Harvey Willson and his cousin Nora

Private Eyes: Teddy Tibbets, Fizzy, Normie, Pokey, and Clud

2. Ages:

SP: Deliberately left ambiguous, but not old enough to drive

HP: Both eleven years old (Harvey to be twelve in three months)

PE: Twelve, thereabouts

3. Expensive Vehicle Improbably Available to Transport Children:

SP: The use of a gold-plated, vintage Rolls Royce, complete with the services of a chauffeur ferrying them wherever they want for the next thirty days, a contest prize won by Jupiter Jones

HP: None

PE: A Turnabout sailboat ominously christened The END, gifted to Teddy the year before by Mr. Sherburne as a reward for recovering his chess set

4. Smug Rival / Potential Ally:

SP: Skinny Norris

HP: Harvey and Nora, to each other

PE: Randy Russell

5. Talking Parrot that, if Prompted Correctly, Will Utter a Clue Pointing Towards a Hidden Treasure:

SP: Not one, but six different parrots, each named after a literary character, plus a mynah bird to round them all out

HP: Sinbad, an African gray, former pet of Captain Corbin and left with Uncle Buck due to seasickness

PE: Despite the story taking place in Clam Cove, and having a ship called the Jolly Pirate, and a character called Pirate McGob (legally having changed his name), no parrots, talking or otherwise, appear in this story

6. An International Art Smuggling Ring:

SP: Yes

HP: No

PE: Yes

7. Secret Passageways:

SP: Four different passageways hidden amidst the junk of the Jones Salvage Yard, leading to their Headquarters

HP: Various hidden passages and underground tunnels throughout Uncle Buck’s historical home, the house having served as a station on the Underground Railroad. Notably, a secret doorway in the back of the wardrobe in Captain Corbin’s room

PE: No hidden passages, but their clubhouse consists of a chicken coop with a doorway too narrow to squeeze through for anyone much larger than a child

8. Grown Adult Threatening a Child with a Gun, Which After the Situation is Resolved is Revealed to have been Fake:

SP: Mr. Claudius brandishing a “large, old-fashioned pistol” revealed to be a novelty cigar lighter

HP: Mr. Singh herding the children around using a water gun (“Naturally,” he told her. “Real guns are dangerous.”)

PE: Jackson attempting to kidnap Teddy using a “shiny, tin, water pistol”  kept largely concealed in his coat pocket

9. Foreign Accents & Ethnic Stereotypes:

SP: Multiple. The English accents of Mr. Claudius, and Worthington the chauffeur, and all of the parrots. Art thief Huganay’s slight French accent. The “liquid Mexican accent” of Carlos Sanchez (“The au-to, it is where? May I see it?”). Hans’ and Konrad’s husky Bavarian ‘Hokay’s. 

HP: The “Indian singsong” of Ranvir Singh, and the “lilting speech” of Paddy O’Gowan

PE: Though the painter Heironomous Brinker is identified as a Dutchman, and his syntax is somewhat odd, accents are never noted in the story

10. Historical Engravings:

SP:

          Here  Lie                13 Nameless  Travelers       Struck  Down                by           Indians    June  17,  1876

HP:

Free at last    Aaron 1859

PE: Though a bronze marker exists designating part of Clam Cove as a Public Landing, the marker was at some point pried loose from its stone, and the engraving was never recovered over the course of the story

11. The Treasure:

SP: A painting of a shepherdess tending to a lamb, by “one of the great masters of painting.” Estimated to be “not worth less than one hundred thousand dollars”.

HP: Various jewels, namely “a large diamond, a huge blood-red ruby, a black pearl, a luminous opal, a blight blue sapphire, and a brilliant green emerald”. Said to be worth enough to retire rich

PE: Nine lost paintings of David Pringle, done between the period of 1850-1855 and featuring a hesitant shift towards lyric realism. Appraised to be worth approx. $45,000 all together

12. Meals Enjoyed Over the Course of the Investigation: 

SP: “[B]aked cup custard with a nice brown crust on top”

HP: Pancakes, “drowned in maple syrup”. Peanut butter sandwiches, one with jelly, one with banana

PE: Lobster. Four peanut-butter sandwiches (in one sitting). A three egg omelette. Fresh hot pancakes drenched with butter and some jam. Cookies and tea with crushed ice. Two more eggs, scrambled. Potato chips. A tall glass of iced ginger ale. Cream cheese and crackers. Hamburgers and hotdogs roasted over hot ashes, with buttered rolls. Ketchup and mustard and pickles and relish. Baked beans. Coke. Boiled hotdogs, wrapped in buttered pancakes. Hot tea. A big beef stew.

13. Occasionally Antagonistic Older Sister:

SP: None (among all three boys)

HP: Georgeann

PE: Jean

14. Loyal Canine Companion:

SP: None, but one of the secret entrances is marked by a painting of a dog named Rover (”Red Gate Rover”)

HP: Butch, “big and fat and real old”. The same age as Harvey. Lazy and cowardly. Spends most of the story begging for food and napping

PE: Hans, a beloved mongrel owned by Mr. Brinker. Adopted by Teddy when Mr. Brinker was assaulted and hospitalized, getting around his mother’s refusal to let him have a dog

15. False Identities & Aliases:

SP: Retired actor Malcolm Fentriss, revealed to have actually been desperate art dealer Claude Claudius impersonating the man

HP: Ranvir Singh, revealed to have been Paddy O’Gowan in disguise

PE: Local fisherman, Windy, revealed to be Benjamin Jackson AKA El Greco, registered as having bought the shore rights to Clam Cove from the Clam Cove Pier Company

16. Eccentric Mastermind who Assembled the Treasure Hunt:

SP: Otherwise unemployable puzzle-maker and art purchaser John Silver (pseudonym)

HP: Jack Corbin, captain of the Seven Seas, Uncle Buck’s best friend and possible life partner. Presumed lost at sea

PE: None. Pringle’s declining self-confidence during this period led him to develop a smaller, almost unnoticeable signature, leaving behind his paintings as payment for rent without record of their sale

17. Villain Making His Departure, Having Graciously Accepted Defeat:

SP: Yes (”’You outmaneuvered me,’ said Mr. Huganay. ‘Few people have done that. If you boys ever come to Europe, look me up. I will show you the French underworld and perhaps you may have a chance to try your wits on some mystery there. No hard feelings on my part, if there are none on yours. Agreed?’“)

HP: Yes (”Meanwhile, Patty O’Gowan scooped up his turban, placed it firmly on his head, walked to the front door, gave us all a brilliant smile, and was gone.”)

PE: No 

18.  Reaping the Windfall - Returning Home:

SP: Mr. Claudius, having retrieved his painting, paid Carlos and his uncle Ramos the promised one thousand dollar reward. Ramos Sanchez used the money to return to his native village in Mexico to recuperate from his illness, while Carlos got a job washing cars at the Rent-’n-Ride Auto Rental Agency. He is studying to be a mechanic in his free time.

HP: Captain Corbin dedicated his savings towards the restoration and preservation of Uncle Buck’s home as a historical landmark. Aside from maintaining it together, he and Buck plan to extend their home to other retired sailors, constructing a neighboring building to provide their fellow ex-seamen a safe harbor on land.

PE: From the proceeds of the sale of the Pringles, Mr. Brinker returned to his native village in Holland and his two sisters. As it was too hard to take a dog along, he left Hans behind with Teddy. All ends well.

[dariaczi]

Vampyr embrace dialogues/final thoughts

Thomas Elwood: So this is how it ends? Farewell, my life, you betrayed me good... 

Thelma Howcroft: Beware, child of the night, for I shall come back and have my vengeance! 

Why kill me, brother? We could have ruled this land together and forever... 

Harvey Fiddick: All I wanted was to go back to work. To take care of my children. 

Mortimer Goswick: I don't feel the peace I was looking for, Mother. Were you right all along? I'm so sorry. I'm so, sorry. 

Beatrice Goswick: I die before my son. I die before my son. No. He needs me so much. So much.

I'm not afraid of dying, for I have no reason to live anymore. I'm coming, Mortimer, and we'll talk, you and I. 

Pippa Hawkins: I knew I should have fled this rotten city with Milton since the very first day of the contagion.

Gwyneth Branagan: Who will take care of the sick? Of the poor Dr. Tippets?

Liar! Snake! I had proved my value! I could have done so much more!

Dr. Thoreau Strickland: I could have saved Mr. Fiddick if I had more time. I could have shown you all.

No! I could have been a great surgeon! The greatest!

Dr. Waverly Ackroyd: All our patients. So many of them. Will Strickland be up to the task, I wonder?

I can't die. Not now. Pembroke needs me. All those poor people.

Dr. Corcoran Tippets: I'm sorry, Nurse Branagan. I won't witness the great doctor you were destined to be.

Rakesh Chadana: So you were the proverbial wolf amongst the sheep, sir? I should have killed you for the sake of many...

Milton Hooks: Pippa, my princess, flee away while you can, for all is lost.

Oswald Thatcher: Newton, don't be sorry... We'll meet again soon, and we will be serene and beautiful...

Newton Blight: Oswald, I'm sorry to leave you alone... Avenge me, my love!

Oswald, I should have been stronger for us both... Forgive me, my love.

Clay Cox: I killed, extorted, stole, and now I die... Fuck it! I lived the way I wanted.

In the back, you bastard! Didn't have the guts to fight me! Fuck you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you.

Dorothy Crane: I'm not ashamed. I did what was right... For in the end, I saved lives and you took them... But we had so much in common, doctor. Don't you see that?

Darius Petrescu: Who will assist Dorothea helping our comrades, now that I die? 

I failed to protect Dorothea. I fall like she fell, but our fight is still alive...

Albert Palmer: No! Not now! Not me! Please! I'll be good!

Benjamin Palmer: I'm not afraid anymore. I died in this trench, a long time ago.

Barrett Lewis: I never had any luck in my life. And now I die alone.

Harry Peterson: Death is so cold. I hoped it would be more, meaningful.

Joe Peterson: My son, who will take care of him? Was I a good father?

Fr. Tobias Whitaker: Please forgive me, My Lord, for my eyes were blind to the devil in front of me. My task will remain unachieved.

Claytown Darby: Cristina, I loved her. I know it now. I should have told her.

Cristina Popa: My dear brother... I'm sorry... I was not strong enough.

Richard Nithercott: Death has no splendour at all. Oh, I see it now. I see it. Oh, the verses I could write.

Camellia: Oh, cruel thief, I still had so many things to give to this world. You stole all my tears and all my joys to come.

Mason Swanborough: I... I can see again... I can see this room... I see my blood... I see... I see you, my killer!

Loretta Swanborough: My brother. I can't see anymore. I'm cold. Forgive me, for this time, I really leave you alone in the dark.

Cadogan Bates: Was I that evil, to deserve such punishment? My only regret is that no one will mourn me... For I have never been loved...

Hsiao Shun: Why convince me to live, if it was to kill me later? If it was a game, consider it a success, you cruel demon...

My beloved husband, I die by your grave... We’ll be together soon again. 

Ichabod Throgmorton: Killed by a real vampire. How unexpected. Thank you, Dr. Reid, for in the end you made me fulfil my destiny.

Giselle Paxton: What a waste of life... I only managed to be hated by all the people I loved...

Lottie Paxton: My poor sister, what will happen to her now that I'm gone? Giselle, I'm so sorry.

Martin Nightingale: I was just pretending... I caused no harm... I could have taken good care of the old lady.

Rodney Grader: Forgive me, Jack. If I had stood by your side, we both could have changed things for good around here.

Enid Gillingham: Jack, my son, he got killed. I remember, I remember all my life. Oh, the joy. The love. What a life. Thank you.

Rufus Kingsberry: So what they said about me was true... I really was 'Rufus the Curse'. Destined to suffer till I die...

Seymour Fishburn: You tricked me good, doctor... Tell me who will take blame for your murders now that I'm dead?

Stella Fishburn: Should I have turned my Seymour in? Was my crime to love my son?

Dyson Delaney: No one will ever know what I did. I'm gonna die with blood on my hands. No one will remember me.

Sabrina Cavendish: I don't fear you! You did not defeat me! I was Sabrina Cavendish. I did not surrender!

Tom Watts: My pub... Sabrina... My friends... What will they become without me? If only I could tell her... Tell them... Too late... Too late...

Edwina Cox: Bastard! My boys will avenge me! In the end, I will laugh at you.

Booth Digby: My sweet queen, who will protect you from yourself? Will you cry for me?

Archer Woodbead: So my Andrew was right, monsters exist... The Guard will nail you down, vampire. My son will kill you!

Carina Billow: Thank you for releasing me... I can finally say the name of my torturer... It's Jacob... Blackwood...

Charlotte Ashbury: Pray for my mother to never find my killer: betrayer!

Calhoun Russel: Death may be the most disappointing dish I have ever tasted. So insipid, so cold.

Louise Teasdale: My father always said "Even those few who offer help always want something in return". And he was right.

Clarence Crossley: I should have known you were one of them, Johnny. Why was I so blind?!

Venus Crossley: My poor Clarence, you were right, they are among us. Please forgive me for not believing you.

I danced with you at my wedding, Jonathan. What have you become?

Kimura Tadao: My familly... I will never see them again... Will they ever know I died here? Will they remember me?

Charles Jerome Albright: So you were the killer? I knew I was right!

Carol Price: Mother, where are you? I can't see. I am so afraid, mother.

Carolyn Price: Poor me... Oh no, poor me... I'm dying... for real... No one will cry for me now...

Agamemnon Baker: This makes no sense... No sense at all... I should have told my brother to go sooner...

Pericles Baker: So in the end, was it you we were waiting for? Death was our destination?

Usher Talltree: I should have seen it coming... I should have put a ban upon you, but there was too much at stake.

Abyssus abyssum invocat, Ekon. Hell awaits you!

Why leave the path? You were so close...

Avery Cork: Poor Miss Reid... I leave her alone with the most despicable monster of all, her own son...

I fulfilled my promise to your father. This house is now yours, murderous son.

Emelyne Reid: Johnny, it was real? Mary brought me to the cemetery to see you? What happend to this familly, my son? What have you done?

Aloysius Dawson: I would have lived forever... Who are you to decide my fate? Who gave you the authority?

[duraxxor]

Wasteland

[[ This is a tale that transpired during the Siege of Lordaeron. Warning: This story contains potentially gruesome violence. Viewer Discretion is advised. ]]

Tirisfal Glades. Many historical events have taken place across these hollowed lands. Even in the cases of an individual such as myself. From the very first meeting of the Sanguine Sorceress to the passing visits towards the Gravekeeper Anna, I’ve had many new beginnings take place in the undying heart of these lands. One could even say I would call this a safe haven in my case. However, what I did not expect to see was the plagues of war infect the very lands. Brill has been decimated and seized by the Alliance who would call this territory their own. Yet, I had only continued my visit for one purpose: To find and seek out one of my eyes by the name of Benjamin Lewinters. 

As many know, he plays a key role in guidance upon the living remnants of my family while I tend to my duties in Panzer. He is a Forsaken and a gentleman at that. Many times I had found myself being covered during my lordship. However, never did I expect to find myself being the savior of this man deep within the bowels of the Undercity. While the Dark Lady had chosen to primarily have her troops up top, there was an opening for those SI:7 dogs. Unfortunately for them, I decided to leave them as nothing more than a trail of corpses until I found Benji needing a hand... or foot rather.

  “ It’s about time you got here... Milord... “ The Forsaken sputtered with a chuckling fit while sitting up on the ground. Those hollowed eye sockets stared at the masked vigilante. Most would be terrified by the presence of the leather-bound reaper. Yet, Benji saw through this visage and regarded Dura as the Lord he served. 

Duraxxor reached forth, wrapping a supportive arm around his robed body. “ It seems I have the tendency to miss the beginning of every battle now. Are you injured? “ Already, the limping posture was noted with the Forsaken finally able to stand as straight as his body would allow. 

“ Caught me by surprise, lad. They busted up my foot pretty good... “ Benjamin examined his left leg, noting the severed flesh and bone that had been torn asunder, leaving nothing more than a boney nub as support. 

“ Lean, old friend. We will have to improvise. “ Duraxxor croaked with the mechanisms that altered his voice in secrecy. Quickly, he searched the surrounding corpses of their boots. At long last, he found what was declared right in his eyes. A few sickening crackles as flesh and bone severed from the force of a blade, the Forsaken found that the former Lord Daevara had obtained a makeshift foot. Field dressing and quick stitchwork followed while the explosions and quakes of battle rumbled above their heads, causing debris that was small and large to fall in the bowels of the Underbelly. “ There. Do you have it prepared? “

Benjamin lightly tapped and stamped his temporary fix upon the molded, stone flooring as a test of leverage and support. “ Yes sir. I have secured one of the experimental plague bats that you requested. Now that I am able to walk and concentrate... I’ll teleport us to where you had originally instructed to meet at. “ 

Benjamin may have had his quirks, but I remember a time where the man was very much alive. He was one of very few of the humankind that I shared a diplomatic respect for back in my high elven days. In life and undeath, he shared an affinity with the arcane that disciplined his personality in a unique way. I watched as particles of the chaotic magics began to wrap tightly around our forms in the channeled cast of a teleporting spell. Our destination was the hills between Brill and Agamand Hills. What we would see, however, would be something we would least expect. 

Benjamin materialized along with his ally within those pale slopes. Though his attention had originally been to check on the gargoyle-like monstrosity behind them, his hollowed eyes basked in the ruins of what was once Brill in the distance. “ My home... they... desecrated it... “ The gravely voice was hindered by shock that even one such as a Forsaken could feel. 

After a thorough examination and a brief calming administered to the spooked beast, Duraxxor brought his sights to the fields of battle in the distance. Fire and Ice littered the field from the various firepower the Alliance forces had unleashed upon Lordaeron. Even he could tell that the battle was lost by the situation. Alliance forces were swarming the breached wall in formation. “ Benjamin... “

“... Daevara… do not worry about my grief... “ He responded with a guttural croak. “... It was only a matter of time... The Dark Lady... she was the one and only who put the torch to Teldrassil… it was only a matter of time before the Alliance would march on Capital City. “ The undead gentleman turned, gazing upon the masked visage of the undead elf. “ I have a few things that I need to speak with you about before we depart... time is precious. “ 

The plague bat released a light shriek at the time that Duraxxor set his sights on Benjamin’s face. “ Go ahead, Master Lewinters. “ 

The forsaken choked up a laugh at the sudden title. “ Your son grows, as well as your daughter... not a single day passes that those children don’t miss you in their life. However, with recent events, Lady Maraschiano may not continue to live in Silvermoon City with Xanthariel and Lord Silverfury. “ Benjamin settled onto his wooden cane with both hands, one palm upon the other. “ Your father has returned from the dead. Though he is a quiet and peculiar knight, he had taken on the mantle of acting as your son’s mentor and bodyguard. “ 

My father. A man I had never met, only seen in pictures. I had heard many tales of his assistance in the Troll Wars. He had always been a man of honor. To hear Benjamin say that he was alive and mentoring my son was truly interesting news. Yet, in the pit of my black heart, I could not find myself to care for a reunion with the man that created me. 

“ Interesting... will that be all? “ Duraxxor replied after brief consideration.

“ No... no I... have nothing else to report. I have no idea what the young lord nor his sister plan to do in the coming tides of war. “ Benjamin cast his gaze towards the deprived grass before asking him a question. “ Why do you continue to hide your existence, lad? “

Duraxxor took a few steps towards Benjamin, his eyes slowly fixated on the man’s face. Another thoughtful moment passed before the Forsaken found the Faceless’ gloved talons placed on the boney shoulder. “ Without me in the picture, Benjamin, they have room to grow. They have the motivation to fight the Daevara’s age old enemy. If I were to reveal myself to them now, then the element of surprise would be cast aside. None of us are ready for that yet. “ Dura slowly pulled the man towards Undercity’s latest experiment and handed him the reins. “ Besides... I have a cause I still serve in the shadows. “ For a brief moment, Benjamin’s eyes could see a remnant of the former Lord’s face through the veil of shadows. “ Now then... I need you take the plague-bat and deliver it to a woman off the coast of Silverpine whose hair is a crimson flame. Her name is Tiramina Quel��Renori and she will take the creature off of your hands. “ 

The forsaken protested whilst tightly handling the reins of the beast. “ You’re not going? You can’t tell me you are going to fight for a lost c- “ Suddenly, Benjamin and Duraxxor both found themselves looking back towards the shattered walls of Lordaeron. Explosions thundered across the landscape. However, in the midst of this firepower, the source wasn’t coming from the Alliance attack force. “ No... it cannot be! “ 

“ Windrunner… “ Dura muttered under his breath as he bore witness to the revelation that plagued both his mind and Capital City. Hazardous green gas radiated from deep within the depths of the Forsaken homeland. This blight expelled through the frontlines, reapplying an even more potent disease upon the land. “ Get out of here, Lewinters… I have something I must do before I leave Tirisfal… “ That being said, the Faceless’ disappeared as a swirling mist of black smog.

“ Durax-xor… “ The Forsaken was too late to stop him from his swift movements. His mind knew that he had a duty to fulfill and he would see it through to the end. With grief and sorrow, Benjamin took flight onto the mighty monstrosity and flew southwest. Looking back, he saw the image of Brill at it’s finest moments, slowly twist into the horrific sight of plague smog that crept towards it’s burning ruins. 

Hours after the Second Fall of Lordaeron… 

I was too late. They had already done what I would’ve never expected. The Gravekeeper Anna had suffered from the massacre that followed with the sacking of Brill. All that remained was a freshly dug grave, a tea cup set upon it in tribute, and the rune-scribed shovel that belonged to the Gravekeep herself. Despite disbelief, the Void that inhabited my tainted flesh made it a point to show the cruel truth of it all...  

“You aren’t going to keep it, arrrre you?” A female Kaldorei asked with disgust as she nodded at the head that he seemingly claimed as a prize. “No, Sisssster.” The twin let the head fall dishonorably to the ground, triggering images of the remnants that lied just below his feet. “ L-l-let it be an example to every monster here that would try r-r-rising again, that Elune means to keep them in their grave at last-last-last...” The maddening whispers added a watered down to the voice of the killer. Though many could not see it, Duraxxor could easily smell the blood of the Gravekeep still stain the gravesite. This act was recent, but not nearly as recent as the visitor’s footsteps that had honorably given Anna a proper burial. The second image revealed a masquerade who had offered the teacup, she delicately placed said offering upon the renewed gravesite. She had even so much as shed a tear of sorrow for the Forsaken. “ R-r-rest well, my friend-friend-Friend! “ The echoes of the woman’s word picked up violently all of the sudden, likely a reaction to the calm rage that settled within Duraxxor’s body.

“ Don’t move, filth... “ The kneeling Faceless found himself greeted by the one who had beheaded Anna. His blade was drawn to the back and at the ready, eager to coat it with Duraxxor’s blood. Even the sister had come along, arrows pulled back and at the ready. “ I allowed one of the Horde scum to get away with this visitation... however, you wreak of death. Tell me, before I kill you, why would you mourn the loss of such a disgusting filth? “

“ … Did you do this? “ The masked mourner asked quietly. “ Did you do this, Arestes? “ Not a single muscle moved on his leather-bound form. 

“ I ask the questions here... wait, how do you know my name? “ The male sibling blinked with unease, taking his eyes off Duraxxor for only one second. That second would cost him his chance to strike the kill, dazed by the evaporation of the mourning creature. “ Where did you- “

“ Areste- Ack! “ The female sibling found herself struck in the side of her skull by the flat side of Anna’s shovel. The mortal wound bringing the woman to fall upon the ground with the inability to control her body’s movements. Though the wound was threatening by many degrees, Alethia wasn’t his target. 

Arestes quivered with fear and rage all in one standing as he watched his sister become dismantled by this stranger. “ Alethia! You... bastard! “ His eyes had instinctively set on the reaper, charging headlong into this assailant. Despite his speed, however, Duraxxor’s reflexes had him lift his left boot upward and kicked the Kaldorei into the dirt. No words were offered when he followed up with a downward swipe of that rune-scribed shovel directly into Arestes’ right knee. The man cried out from the shattering of bone. 

“ Arestes… N-no! “ The sister cried out in her struggle to aid her sibling while he suffered his own torturous pain. Her blood continuing to pool from her own wound, bringing her sight to blur at the vision of the man who placed that same boot firmly on the center of his chest. 

“ Why do I mourn, you ask? Why do you kill one who has nothing to do with your war? “ Duraxxor stared down at the man that was shedding tears from the intense pain in his leg. The crimson bead in his right eye socket offered pent-up rage behind the visage of a grim reaper. “ Your sister will not die by my hand today. However, you will not have that mercy... “ The Faceless tightened his grip on the bloodied rune-shovel as he watched the night elves struggle at his feet.

Arestes spat out blood in a cough, attempting to speak. “ Your Warchief… burned down... my home... she took everything... everything away from us... You... AAHHHH! “ Once more, the brother had been struck by the shovel, aimed directly at his right arm that had made an attempt to grasp his blade. His pool of blood began to increase in it’s vile radius. The sister breathed shallowly while weeping over her body’s inability to move when she needed it most. She forced to watch her brother slowly be destroyed by this monster.

Daevara lowered himself to offer this opponent one final glance into the eye sockets that bore into him. This closeness would also reveal a set of teeth behind the ventilations, smiling back in quite the devious manner to most. “ Windrunner may have made the decision to burn everything you loved... but the woman you murdered had no say in that matter. You ravaged this land and destroyed one of the most innocent beings in this graveyard. You gave her no choice but to fight to protect them. Not the Warchief, not the Horde, but the land and those who were lost.  I had served under that banner you carry for many decades, almost centuries... thousands of years and none of you have changed. But where was your precious Alliance when my homeland was sacked? Where were your kind when my ancestors migrated because your kind cast them aside for their beliefs? So much history yet the Alliance continue to believe they rule over all of Azeroth. “ 

Truly Duraxxor’s words crippled the man, breaking all of the logic and reasonings for their vengeful intent. Though, blood loss and shock may have played a role in the breaking of this soldier’s mentality. However, one thing would never been desecrated by the sadistic creature’s words. “... For the Alliance... “ The man muttered from bloodied lips, spitting blood onto the skeletal reaper’s face. 

The grin behind that soiled mask sharpened into a crescent smirk. “ I was hoping you would say that... This is for Anna... “ Without a second thought, Duraxxor brought the shovel into the air. The sister’s protests were barely understandable by a series of cries and likely to be no’s, forced to bear witness as this monstrous entity brought that runic shovel down onto her brother’s cranium. The sound of skull crunched along with the spouts of blood that scattered across the graveyard one strike after the other. Twenty-seven consecutive strikes had turned the remnants of Arestes Duskriver into the byproduct of a slaughterhouse. There was nothing left of the Kaldorei’s face to even identify him visually. 

Alethia shivered, hiccupping from the inability to speak. She had watched the entire process while teetering to pass out. The scent of her brother’s brain matter and life blood only making the pitiful creature sick to her stomach. And just when she thought he couldn’t be any more cruel, he stepped over and placed his talons upon her cheek, forcing her to look him directly in the eyes. “ Remember this... Death claims us all... One day... it too shall claim you... “ That being said, Duraxxor wasted no time and leaving the scene while holding onto the Gravekeeper’s shovel. Alliance forces were treading within the area and he needed not to engage all of them. Though, it was clear that he had left a blemish upon the weary Kaldorei’s mind. 

[[ Mentions large or small:  @gravekeeper-anna @sanguinesorceress @storykeeper-wra @viviannamaraschiano @destiny-of-daevara @daughter-of-daevara @horridlittlepoppet ]] 

[[ A special thanks to @gravekeeper-anna / @safrona-shadowsun for allowing me to incorporate her characters into my story. Thank you so much! ]]

[dailychapel]

All-wise God, give me discernment today. Sharpen my senses so I can use good judgment in my life. Help me see and properly assess the positives and negatives in every situation, opportunity, and decision that I face. Guide me as I make choices. Help me forgo what is wrong and least helpful, and help me pursue what will bring satisfaction, growth, and fruitfulness in my life. Father, help me to be selective and never impulsive. Develop in me a cautious and patient disposition so that I don’t make rash decisions and actions. And give me boldness to seize and pursue all opportunities and goals that you’ve planned for my life. Amen.

[Psa 80:1-3 NLT] 1 For the choir director: A psalm of Asaph, to be sung to the tune "Lilies of the Covenant." Please listen, O Shepherd of Israel, you who lead Joseph's descendants like a flock. O God, enthroned above the cherubim, display your radiant glory 2 to Ephraim, Benjamin, and Manasseh. Show us your mighty power. Come to rescue us! 3 Turn us again to yourself, O God. Make your face shine down upon us. Only then will we be saved.

[Gen 41:14-32 NLT] 14 Pharaoh sent for Joseph at once, and he was quickly brought from the prison. After he shaved and changed his clothes, he went in and stood before Pharaoh. 15 Then Pharaoh said to Joseph, "I had a dream last night, and no one here can tell me what it means. But I have heard that when you hear about a dream you can interpret it." 16 "It is beyond my power to do this," Joseph replied. "But God can tell you what it means and set you at ease." 17 So Pharaoh told Joseph his dream. "In my dream," he said, "I was standing on the bank of the Nile River, 18 and I saw seven fat, healthy cows come up out of the river and begin grazing in the marsh grass. 19 But then I saw seven sick-looking cows, scrawny and thin, come up after them. I've never seen such sorry-looking animals in all the land of Egypt. 20 These thin, scrawny cows ate the seven fat cows. 21 But afterward you wouldn't have known it, for they were still as thin and scrawny as before! Then I woke up. 22 "Then I fell asleep again, and I had another dream. This time I saw seven heads of grain, full and beautiful, growing on a single stalk. 23 Then seven more heads of grain appeared, but these were blighted, shriveled, and withered by the east wind. 24 And the shriveled heads swallowed the seven healthy heads. I told these dreams to the magicians, but no one could tell me what they mean." 25 Joseph responded, "Both of Pharaoh's dreams mean the same thing. God is telling Pharaoh in advance what he is about to do. 26 The seven healthy cows and the seven healthy heads of grain both represent seven years of prosperity. 27 The seven thin, scrawny cows that came up later and the seven thin heads of grain, withered by the east wind, represent seven years of famine. 28 "This will happen just as I have described it, for God has revealed to Pharaoh in advance what he is about to do. 29 The next seven years will be a period of great prosperity throughout the land of Egypt. 30 But afterward there will be seven years of famine so great that all the prosperity will be forgotten in Egypt. Famine will destroy the land. 31 This famine will be so severe that even the memory of the good years will be erased. 32 As for having two similar dreams, it means that these events have been decreed by God, and he will soon make them happen.

[Luk 18:15-17 NLT] 15 One day some parents brought their little children to Jesus so he could touch and bless them. But when the disciples saw this, they scolded the parents for bothering him. 16 Then Jesus called for the children and said to the disciples, "Let the children come to me. Don't stop them! For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children. 17 I tell you the truth, anyone who doesn't receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it."

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.

Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

[dfroza]

All the silver and the gold of earth belongs to our Creator

who is remaking His Temple with the treasure of His children, as daughters & sons of Light in whom the Spirit abides

this is the rebirth of the New Covenant of grace that begins in the baptism of the heart (inside, Anew)

and in Today’s reading of the Scriptures we see a point made by God through Haggai in the closing chapter #2 of the book that includes a promise of restoration which ultimately points to the full rebirth of the heavens and garden earth in A grand end of time

[This Temple Will End Up Better Than It Started Out]

On the twenty-first day of the seventh month, the Word of God came through the prophet Haggai: “Tell Governor Zerubbabel son of Shealtiel and High Priest Joshua son of Jehozadak and all the people: ‘Is there anyone here who saw the Temple the way it used to be, all glorious? And what do you see now? Not much, right?

“‘So get to work, Zerubbabel!’—God is speaking.

“‘Get to work, Joshua son of Jehozadak—high priest!’

“‘Get to work, all you people!’—God is speaking.

“‘Yes, get to work! For I am with you.’ The God-of-the-Angel-Armies is speaking! ‘Put into action the word I covenanted with you when you left Egypt. I’m living and breathing among you right now. Don’t be timid. Don’t hold back.’

“This is what God-of-the-Angel-Armies said: ‘Before you know it, I will shake up sky and earth, ocean and fields. And I’ll shake down all the godless nations. They’ll bring bushels of wealth and I will fill this Temple with splendor.’ God-of-the-Angel-Armies says so.

‘I own the silver,

I own the gold.’

Decree of God-of-the-Angel-Armies.

“‘This Temple is going to end up far better than it started out, a glorious beginning but an even more glorious finish: a place in which I will hand out wholeness and holiness.’ Decree of God-of-the-Angel-Armies.”

On the twenty-fourth day of the ninth month (again, this was in the second year of Darius), God’s Message came to Haggai: “God-of-the-Angel-Armies speaks: Consult the priests for a ruling. If someone carries a piece of sacred meat in his pocket, meat that is set apart for sacrifice on the altar, and the pocket touches a loaf of bread, a dish of stew, a bottle of wine or oil, or any other food, will these foods be made holy by such contact?”

The priests said, “No.”

Then Haggai said, “How about someone who is contaminated by touching a corpse—if that person touches one of these foods, will it be contaminated?”

The priests said, “Yes, it will be contaminated.”

Then Haggai said, “‘So, this people is contaminated. Their nation is contaminated. Everything they do is contaminated. Whatever they do for me is contaminated.’ God says so.

“‘Think back. Before you set out to lay the first foundation stones for the rebuilding of my Temple, how did it go with you? Isn’t it true that your foot-dragging, halfhearted efforts at rebuilding the Temple of God were reflected in a sluggish, halfway return on your crops—half the grain you were used to getting, half the wine? I hit you with drought and blight and hail. Everything you were doing got hit. But it didn’t seem to faze you. You continued to ignore me.’ God’s Decree.

“‘Now think ahead from this same date—this twenty-fourth day of the ninth month. Think ahead from when the Temple rebuilding was launched. Has anything in your fields—vine, fig tree, pomegranate, olive tree—failed to flourish? From now on you can count on a blessing.’”

God’s Message came a second time to Haggai on that most memorable day, the twenty-fourth day of the ninth month: “Speak to Zerubbabel, the governor of Judah:

“‘I am about to shake up everything, to turn everything upside down and start over from top to bottom—overthrow governments, destroy foreign powers, dismantle the world of weapons and armaments, throw armies into confusion, so that they end up killing one another. And on that day’”—this is God’s Message—“‘I will take you, O Zerubbabel son of Shealtiel, as my personal servant and I will set you as a signet ring, the sign of my sovereign presence and authority. I’ve looked over the field and chosen you for this work.’” The Message of God-of-the-Angel-Armies.

The Book of Haggai, Chapter 2 (The Message)

with these lines mirrored in the Voice:

You see, all the silver and all the gold in this world already belong to Me. You will stand by and watch as the magnificence of this new house will eclipse the magnificence of My first house. And in this new house, I will give you peace.”

The Book of Haggai, Chapter 2:8-9 (The Voice)

and then in Today’s reading of chapter 13 in the book Acts as the paired chapter of the Testaments we see the Historical significance of sharing the message of eternal life for all who will “believe...” in the True illumination of the Son:

The church in Antioch had grown strong, with many prophets and teachers: Barnabas, Simeon (a dark man from Central Africa), Lucius (from Cyrene in North Africa), Manaen (a member of Herod’s governing council), and Saul. Once they were engaged in a time of worship and fasting when the Holy Spirit spoke to them, “Commission Barnabas and Saul to a project I have called them to accomplish.” They fasted and prayed some more, laid their hands on the two selected men, and sent them off on their new mission. Having received special commissioning by the Holy Spirit, Barnabas and Saul went to nearby Seleucia on the coast. Then they caught a ship to the island of Cyprus.

At the city of Salamis on the east side of Cyprus, they proclaimed the message of God in Jewish synagogues, assisted by John Mark. They went westward from town to town, finally reaching Paphos on the western shore. There the proconsul named Sergius Paulus, an intelligent man, summoned Barnabas and Saul because he wanted to hear their message. At his side was an occult spiritualist and Jewish false prophet named Bar-Jesus or Elymas (which means “magician”). Elymas argued with Barnabas and Saul, trying to keep Sergius Paulus from coming to faith.

Saul, who is also known as Paul, was suddenly full of the Holy Spirit. He stared directly into Elymas’s face.

Paul: You’re a son of the devil. You’re an enemy of justice, you’re full of lies, and you steal opportunities from others. Why do you insist on confusing and twisting the clear, straight paths of the Lord? Hear this, Elymas: the Lord’s hand is against you, and you will be as blind as a bat for a period of time, beginning right now!

At that instant, it was as if a mist came over Elymas and then total darkness. He stumbled around, groping for a hand so he could be led back home. When Sergius Paulus saw this happen, he came to faith and was attracted to and amazed by the teaching about the Lord.

Paul and his entourage boarded a ship and set sail from Paphos. They traveled north to Perga in Pamphylia. John Mark, however, abandoned the mission and returned to Jerusalem.

Paul and Barnabas continued from Perga to Pisidian Antioch; and on the Sabbath, they entered the synagogue and sat down. After the regular reading of the Hebrew Scriptures—including passages from the Law and the Prophets—the synagogue leaders sent a message to them: “Brothers, if you would like to give us some exhortation, please do so.” 16 Paul rose to his feet, offered a gesture of greeting, and began his message.

Paul: Israelites and other God-fearing people, please hear me. The God of the Israelites chose our ancestors and helped them become a large population while they were living in Egypt many years ago. He displayed His great power by leading them out of that powerful nation. For about 40 years, He endured their constant complaining in the wilderness. He opened up some land for them in Canaan by destroying the seven nations living there, and that land became their inheritance for about 450 years. They had tribal leaders through the time of the prophet Samuel. Then they asked for a king, and God gave them one—Saul, son of Kish, of the tribe of Benjamin—who reigned for 40 years. After God moved Saul aside, He made David king in his place. God had this to say about David: “I have found David, son of Jesse, to be a man after My own heart. He’s the kind of king who will rule in ways that please Me.” God has selected one of David’s descendants as the long-promised Liberator of Israel. I am speaking of Jesus.

Before Jesus arrived on the scene, His cousin John was hard at work, proclaiming to all the people of Israel a ceremonial washing through baptism and pointing to a new direction in thought and life. John’s ministry climaxed when he said, “Who do you assume me to be? I am not the One you’re looking for. No, but One is coming after me, One whose sandal thong I am unworthy to untie.” My brothers, fellow descendants of our common father Abraham, and others here who fear God, we are the ones to whom God has sent this message of salvation.

But you know the people of Jerusalem and their leaders did not recognize Jesus. They didn’t understand the words of the prophets that are read in the synagogues on Sabbath after Sabbath. As a result, they fulfilled the ancient prophecies by condemning Jesus. Even though they could find no offense punishable by death, still they asked Pilate to execute Jesus. When they carried out everything that had been foretold by the prophets, they took His body down from the tree and laid Him in a tomb. But that was not the end: God raised Him from the dead, and over a period of many days, He appeared to those who had been His companions from the beginning of their journey in Galilee until its end in Jerusalem. They are now witnesses to everyone. We are here to bring you the good news of God’s promise to our ancestors, which He has now fulfilled for our children by raising Jesus. Consider the promises fulfilled in Jesus. The psalmist says, “You are My Son; today I have become Your Father.”

Elsewhere God promises that Jesus will rise and never return to death and corruption again: “I will make You the holy and faithful promises I made to David.” Similarly, another psalm says, “You will not abandon Me to experience death and the grave or leave Me to rot alone.” We all know David died and was reduced to dust after he served God’s purpose in his generation; these words obviously apply not to David but to the One God raised from death before suffering decay. So you must realize, my brothers, that through this resurrected man forgiveness of sins is assured to you. Through Jesus, everyone who believes is set free from all sins—sins which the law of Moses could not release you from. In light of all this, be careful that you do not fulfill these words of the prophet Habakkuk:

Look, you scoffers!

Be shocked to death.

For in your days I am doing a work,

a work you will never believe, even if someone tells you plainly!

Paul and Barnabas prepared to leave the synagogue, but the people wanted to hear more and urged them to return the following Sabbath. As the people dispersed after the meeting, many Jews and converts to Judaism followed Paul and Barnabas. Privately Paul and Barnabas continued teaching them and urged them to remain steadfast in the grace of God. The next Sabbath, it seemed the whole city had gathered to hear the message of the Lord. But some of the Jewish leaders were jealous when they saw these huge crowds. They began to argue with and contradict Paul’s message, as well as slander him. Paul and Barnabas together responded with great confidence.

Paul and Barnabas: OK, then. It was only right that we should bring God’s message to you Jewish people first. But now, since you are rejecting our message and identifying yourselves as unworthy of eternal life, we are turning to the outsiders. The Lord has commanded us to do this. Remember His words:

I have appointed you a light to the nations beyond Israel,

so you can bring redemption to every corner of the earth.

These words created two strong reactions. The outsiders were thrilled and praised God’s message, and all those who had been appointed for eternal life became believers. Through them the Lord’s message spread through the whole region. But the Jewish leaders united the aristocratic religious women and the city’s leading men in opposition to Paul and Barnabas, and soon they were persecuted and driven out of the region. They simply shook the dust off their feet in protest and moved on to Iconium. The disciples weren’t intimidated at all; rather, they were full of joy and the Holy Spirit.

The Book of Acts, Chapter 13 (The Voice)

to be accompanied by the lines of Psalm 9 and Psalm 20 for the 9th of january and the 20th day of Winter:

[Psalm 9]

A David Psalm

I’m thanking you, God, from a full heart,

I’m writing the book on your wonders.

I’m whistling, laughing, and jumping for joy;

I’m singing your song, High God.

The day my enemies turned tail and ran,

they stumbled on you and fell on their faces.

You took over and set everything right;

when I needed you, you were there, taking charge.

You blow the whistle on godless nations;

you throw dirty players out of the game,

wipe their names right off the roster.

Enemies disappear from the sidelines,

their reputation trashed,

their names erased from the halls of fame.

God holds the high center,

he sees and sets the world’s mess right.

He decides what is right for us earthlings,

gives people their just deserts.

God’s a safe-house for the battered,

a sanctuary during bad times.

The moment you arrive, you relax;

you’re never sorry you knocked.

Sing your songs to Zion-dwelling God,

tell his stories to everyone you meet:

How he tracks down killers

yet keeps his eye on us,

registers every whimper and moan.

Be kind to me, God;

I’ve been kicked around long enough.

Once you’ve pulled me back

from the gates of death,

I’ll write the book on Hallelujahs;

on the corner of Main and First

I’ll hold a street meeting;

I’ll be the song leader; we’ll fill the air

with salvation songs.

They’re trapped, those godless countries,

in the very snares they set,

Their feet all tangled

in the net they spread.

They have no excuse;

the way God works is well-known.

The cunning machinery made by the wicked

has maimed their own hands.

The wicked bought a one-way

ticket to hell.

No longer will the poor be nameless—

no more humiliation for the humble.

Up, God! Aren’t you fed up with their empty strutting?

Expose these grand pretensions!

Shake them up, God!

Show them how silly they look.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 9 (The Message)

[Psalm 20]

A David Psalm

God answer you on the day you crash,

The name God-of-Jacob put you out of harm’s reach,

Send reinforcements from Holy Hill,

Dispatch from Zion fresh supplies,

Exclaim over your offerings,

Celebrate your sacrifices,

Give you what your heart desires,

Accomplish your plans.

When you win, we plan to raise the roof

and lead the parade with our banners.

May all your wishes come true!

That clinches it—help’s coming,

an answer’s on the way,

everything’s going to work out.

See those people polishing their chariots,

and those others grooming their horses?

But we’re making garlands for God our God.

The chariots will rust,

those horses pull up lame—

and we’ll be on our feet, standing tall.

Make the king a winner, God;

the day we call, give us your answer.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 20 (The Message)

to be concluded by wisdom in chapter 9 of the ancient book of Proverbs:

[Lady Wisdom Gives a Dinner Party]

Lady Wisdom has built and furnished her home;

it’s supported by seven hewn timbers.

The banquet meal is ready to be served: lamb roasted,

wine poured out, table set with silver and flowers.

Having dismissed her serving maids,

Lady Wisdom goes to town, stands in a prominent place,

and invites everyone within sound of her voice:

“Are you confused about life, don’t know what’s going on?

Come with me, oh come, have dinner with me!

I’ve prepared a wonderful spread—fresh-baked bread,

roast lamb, carefully selected wines.

Leave your impoverished confusion and live!

Walk up the street to a life with meaning.”

If you reason with an arrogant cynic, you’ll get slapped in the face;

confront bad behavior and get a kick in the shins.

So don’t waste your time on a scoffer;

all you’ll get for your pains is abuse.

But if you correct those who care about life,

that’s different—they’ll love you for it!

Save your breath for the wise—they’ll be wiser for it;

tell good people what you know—they’ll profit from it.

Skilled living gets its start in the Fear-of-God,

insight into life from knowing a Holy God.

It’s through me, Lady Wisdom, that your life deepens,

and the years of your life ripen.

Live wisely and wisdom will permeate your life;

mock life and life will mock you.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 9:1-12 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Thursday, january 9 of 2020, simultaneously the 20th day of Winter

[serendipitousoracle]

zodiac shooting star mixtape & fragrance for Eg(any aus) & Ria & Sov plz

[ ♡OC ask meme ♡ ]

By question:

zodiac: what’s their sign? does it influence theirpersonality? do they care about astrology?                              

Egeire Mahariel & Egeria “Ria” Surana:

As Egeire is a derivative of Egeria and Egeria is originally aSelf Insert, both are born in the twelfth month, known as Cassusor Haring. Unfortunately if I ever nailed down a date fortheir birthday/s I absolutely cannot find it.They very likelystill both fall in the range for Sagittarius, though. I don’t thinkit terribly influences their personalities, though I am very biasedby years of being umimpressed with the common astrology babble of“Sagittarius is an extrovert who loves adventures and excitementand is changeable and spontaneous!!1!!1“ Ria would probably payastrology no mind and Egeire would probably mostly do the same but heis also absolutely the type to lowkey look up sign compatibility withpeople he gets crushes on.

In the Chinese zodiac, they were both born in 9:08 I believe,which if you translate that straight as 908, means they’re EarthDragons. I… think.

Soveliss Liadon:

yeah I’ve got 0 idea when Sov was born. soz fam. if it becomesimportant to his backstory or if aub develops any Cool Year Info NShit maybe I will figure that out but honestly I never come up withcharacter birthdays until it comes up. which is not often. I don’teven have any real vibes for seasons they all seem Fine.

shooting star: if your OC(s) could have one wish whatwould it be?  

Egeire Mahariel

Perhaps… peace, or maybe life depending on the timeframe. Peacebeing the ability to be cured of the Taint in his blood and live alife that makes him happy with the people who make him happy.Alternatively, life– namely, Tamlen’s. He feels guilty aboutTamlen’s death for a long time. Even if Tamlen isn’t his…Egeire wants his friend to live a full life and die a death not inagony.

(Egeire’s wish for peace extends to any Warden Egeire AU, but inWAW!AU imagine his life wish expanding. it would probably take quitesome rules-lawyering to keep it from being disastrous, but what ifEgeire could undo so much sorrow? Tamlen lives, and so does anybodyfrom Clan Sabrae who might have perished in the Blight. The Circle isnot ravaged, and so many mages who were locked behind heavy doors andleft to die have a second chance at life. Hundreds of soldiers, lostat Ostagar and beyond, return home to family and loved ones.Consultation is probably needed to keep his tongue from erring intosomething unwise, but what if the past year did not need to be soakedin so much grief? And, well… he has plenty of role modelsfor ambitious goals, now.

Royals AU Egeire would consider it, and… honestly find hedoesn’t want for much. He is happy with Denoreth, and unlike theother royals AU, this Egeire is not as scarred by Cyrron beforeCyrron is eliminated from his life. His training with Cyrron isultimately what allows him to keep Denoreth safe, in fact, and evenDen likes watching him fight. so Egeire would probably just wish forsomething like eternal prosperity upon both their kingdoms or somesuch.

Fugitives AU Egeire probably has an interesting wish: A life wherehe is never taken and broken by Cyrron, but still gets to meet andend up happy with Denoreth like he is now, without the trauma.Failing that, the follow-ups would be erasing the aftereffects ofsaid trauma, or him and Denoreth having a life of comfort where theynever have to struggle to get by again, like they did when they firstfled their past lives)

Egeria Surana

I think the big thing that would address a lot of Ria’s hurts inlife would be equality; if elves and mages and non-Andrastians wereon even footing with humans (etc), maybe then she and those who comeafter her wouldn’t have to worry about mages (some of themso young) leaping from high windows or choosing Tranquility,and elves wouldn’t suffer in alienages, and she would not feel socaught on a tightrope between Warden and elfmagegirl, the latter ofwhich also becomes a real threat to her relationship with Alistair.It is a gigantic scale wish, but it’s one concept, and itwould likely be hers.

Post-Inquisition, the wish she makes probably wouldn’tchange… but honestly, on the inside, she just wants Alistair backfrom the Fade.

Soveliss Liadon

There are two major angles Sov can wish for: past and future. Onthe one hand, he could have everything he lost back. The monks couldlive again, he could have a home, they could perhaps reconcile, andhe could spend like a week straight just crying and holding onto eachand every one of them for dear life.

But on the other hand, there is the future. There is him as anadventurer, a warlock, and a traveling acolyte. For the future, hiswish would likely be power. Knowledge, magic, and control farbeyond his current comprehension. With enough magic he could protectwhat few things he still cares about, and fulfill his duties toKelemvor in protecting others and striking down undead. With enoughmagic, he might not feel so small compared to his patron, though hewould not be able to fathom being on equal footing (or being morepowerful than?) his dear patron, an archfey. With enough magic… hecould perhaps bring his family of monks back himself, or at least putthem to rest so they no longer haunt the halls of the monastery. Sogiven the choice, Soveliss would probably wish for magic, power, andknowledge.

What could possibly go wrong?

Under the cut: mixtape & fragrance

mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC(s) or songsthey themselves would like

Answeredhere for normal Egeire, Egeria, and Soveliss.

Royals AU Egeire:

1. “TheBest Is Yet To Come” - Frank Sinatra (once Egeire and Denorethfinally get to the point of being in love… things are reallylooking up)

2. “I Lived” - OneRepublic (being very suddenly thrown into an arranged marriage feels a bit like being thrown to the wolves, but perhaps by the end of everything, he will have finally lived a life of his own choosing.)

3. “Collide” - Howie Day (tentative, sweeter love song for boys gettin’ to know each other)

4. “Float On” - Modest Mouse (chill song about carrying on through setbacks, bc hey that’s p much all Eg can do at this point)

5. “Any Way You Want It” - Journey (surprise most of this AU rn is young princes falling in love and holding onto themselves despite the politics as much as possible)

Fugitives AU Egeire:

1. “TheOnly Exception” - Paramore (Egeire learned from Cyrron thatlove was fickle and fleeting and led only to hell and heartbreak, andDenoreth had figured out pretty quickly that getting attached topeople was a fool’s errand, but…)

2. “Be OK”- Ingrid Michaelson (Poor tol has spent so long being torn topieces and scrambled and he just… wants to have the partsof himself he lost back)

3. “Field of Innocence” - Evanescence (The sadder half of the above coin. Flip-flopping between wanting to Be OK again and just wanting to go back to before he was ever hurt.)

4. “Jump the Fence” - Mother Mother (Fleeing and freedom and not necessarily goodness, only looking out for themselves and going straight back to merc work and profiting (surviving) off of doing richer bastards’ dirty work)

5. “Give Me A Sign” - Breaking Benjamin (Just. Boys gotta hold onto each other and try to keep each other together through financial struggling and moral conflict and internalized shit and the scars will remain but they can too.)

Bonus: “Home”- Phillip Phillips (could apply to both AUs, really. everything is uncertain- and inFugitives AU especially even terrifying- but they will have a home.This new place will be home, one day.)

fragrance: what do your OCs smell like?                              

Egeire Mahariel:

Canon/WAW: Leather and sweat typically, from being out on the road, often with some measure of blood. When they get to Vigil’s Keep and there’s room for fancy soaps and shit, he would probably be particular to pine or herbal scents or smth.

Royals: really it’s going to be like soap and scented oil rubbed into his hair or halla and sweat and there’s not a whole lot of in-between

Fugitives: When Denoreth first meets him, it is the light, almost undetectable scent of salt water and ocean breeze. This lingers through most of their encounters, at varying degrees of intensity, until they make their break for it– that day is just sweat and fear, ironically as they are surrounded by the real sea and eventually have their final confrontation with Cyrron. After that, Egeire never smells of the ocean again. He likes apple and water lily and honey scented soaps, and the smell of flowers often lingers on him when he leaves his room. He also specifically keeps unscented soap around for when they’re working.

Egeria Surana:

Scents don’t cling to her much. Soap and books if anything, in the Circle. Sweat on the road. Likes flowery soaps once she can get her hands on them. Still only lingers for so long, though.

Soveliss Liadon:

Pre-adventuring Sov mostly smelled like old, old books and incense. Adventuring Sov probably smells of pretty little considering he is extremely ready and willing to basically prestidigitate off layers of skin to keep himself fairly clean. Dusk of the New Morning Soveliss probably smelled like dust and food, while Here There Be Kerbolds Soveliss (aka current Sov which is absolutely getting a The Adventure Zone reference name bc of the Abraca-Fuck-You quote) probably smells like either linen or faintly of swamp (bc grumblegrumble it takes /so much prestidigitation/ to get swamp water out and he’s probably still going to have to wash so much shit after this is over).

[musemash]

A CENTURY OF DAYLITE SLAVING TERRORISM – a heartfelt plea from the Canuck Crank – revised & expanded Mar 11, 2023

One of my very favorite oddball folk groups, THE INCREDIBLE STRING BAND, once wrote a great little ditty called TIME. It had one brilliant insight: “I was your slave; now you are mine. I am Time.” Which brings me to the most important question one can possibly ask this weekend: Who is responsible for the deadly scourge known by the deceptively benign name of DAYLIGHT SAVING TIME?

Once again, this semi-annual ritual of TIME THIEVERY is about to disrupt our placid existence for no good reason. Therefore, MFF has no choice but to renew our fervent campaign to eradicate this evil scheme forevermore. The animations above emphasize the frivolous attitude many people have toward this dire threat to their sanity.

The first three embedded videos, however, are uncompromising denunciations: trailers for classic Daylight Saving HORROR FILMS that don’t actually exist – but really ought to. The final video is a journey through the shared delusion we call history, set to the CHAMBERS BROTHERS’ epic psychedelic meditation on cuckoo clocks, TIME HAS COME TODAY.

After years of suffering from DST’s woeful TIME TYRANNY, something has become abundantly obvious to me about FALL BACK. The semi-annual hour of extra sleep mandated by this system is really just an insidious BRIBE – designed to lull us into a false sense of security, and make us forget that we will be shocked awake by SPRING FORWARD six months later.

The year 2018 marked the 100th anniversary of the origin of the DST blight in the USA. Sleep-deprived Americans can rightly blame a combination of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, KAISER WILHELM, and the UNITED CIGAR STORES COMPANY for their plight.

As for my home and native land, we Canucks evidently take the prize for actually being the very first country to try a TEST RUN on this idiotic concept. An Ontario town did it in 1908, inspiring similar madness in other parts of our great nation. Oh, the SHAME of it all.

Thus, I have taken it upon myself to publicly atone for my moronic forebears’ most egregious and enduring sin against natural law. Accordingly, I hereby present the definitive case for the concept that, logically speaking, DST is the ultimate FAKE NEWS – because TIME ITSELF is actually a mass hallucination.

The DST travesty is clearly a nefarious Deep State experiment, aimed at   undermining the unwary pilgrim's faith in the innate BENIGN ANARCHY OF THE KNOWN UNIVERSE. But I promise you that when I take worldwide power as GOD EMPEROR FOR LIFE, the clocks will still be turned twice a year – but EACH time, they will go BACK ONE HOUR.

Indubitably, I do concede that this may cause some minor inconveniences. For example: the grumbling masses would eventually start work at 11 pm and have their LUNCH HOUR at 3 am; the British would have to move AFTERNOON TEA from 4 pm to midnight at some point; and drunken debauched ACID HOUSE RAVES would someday happen in broad daylight.

But those are small sacrifices, to enable such a vast improvement in human progress and quality of life. Therefore I implore you to support my WORLD CONQUEST campaign – and I’ll be sure to take care of y'all, suckaz. While we await my momentous ascension to the Throne, I have provided some diversionary entertainment.

Below, you’ll find many resources to help you survive, until I take my rightful place as Benevolent Despot Of All Temporal Existence. We start with a pithy observation from HOMER SIMPSON – followed by the aforementioned STRING BAND song, and a most informative recitation from the DAVID TENNANT incarnation of DOCTOR WHO.

After that, you'll find a viciously funny JOHN OLIVER essay, expressing stunned disbelief that we are still saddled with this whole sorry enterprise; a variety of entertaining videos from the likes of STEPHEN COLBERT, RICK MERCER, the 22 MINUTES scamps, and the HOLDERNESS FAMILY; and various accounts of how this SOCIAL DISASTER originated.

You can also access scientific and spiritual speculations about the precise  NATURE OF TIME; conspiracy theories about the very fabric of our EARTHLY EXISTENCE; cautionary tales of the ILL EFFECTS inflicted by DST on the unsuspecting populace; and the CHAMBERS BROTHERS’ spirited live performance of their signature song. In conclusion: be careful out there, friends!

DST D’oh!!! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I2_cxE0RGyc Incredible String Theory https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8V5GbJwQ9rg Wibbly-Wobbly Timey-Wimey Don't Blink! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LakwV3P3qII How Is DST Still A Thing? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=br0NW9ufUUw Colbert's DST Sermon https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OVRf0qnHkbQ Rick's Rant: DST Is Stupid! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0I4PWSA7WAM Daylight Savings 101 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kw462Xbbzng The Daylight Saving Song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PYi1Its2Zo Falling Back In 2065 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_wHcLwv5h7Y DST Dangers https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5o_I5xfUufE https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ahahXihRZ1I The Benefits Of DST https://www.facebook.com/attn/videos/1309002982468491/ Escape The Terror! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SWelmO466Ss Daylight Savings Tonight https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOdlVE8xxvU Left Behind! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5ZGxyy74uM ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Time, Gentlemen, Please https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X3mp97SKIpI The House Where Time Stops https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ebu2vnSjdw Mansplaining DST https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9k3XxLsUI34 Daylight Savings Date https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l38G0fyMcVg No One Is Safe https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t13Q66ALFeI DST Horror Tweets https://www.thedad.com/11-daylight-saving-time-tweets-to-make-you-laugh-in-the-midst-of-horror/ Vampires Love DST https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UAtUn1l_6OQ Who Broke The Sun? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OgnyB8J43Kk Daylight Savings Conspiracy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_AyRsxFM51Q Spring Forward Fail https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V8VZU0TRyxg DST's Emotional Rollercoaster https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lH17A00xRew When DST Ends https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JQno5gn8Y-Y Daylight Savings! https://genius.com/Himsa-daylight-savings-lyrics https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5K8OKtVnAd0 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Why Do We Change Our Clocks? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cpe2WG53uJQ Daylight Saving Time Explained https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=84aWtseb2-4 Neil deGrasse Tyson Explains DST https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yf0KNm0cals The Case For Abolishing DST https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OR6il9otpqM Adjusting To Doomsday https://www.thebeaverton.com/2016/01/scientists-reveal-they-accidentally-forgot-to-adjust-doomsday-clock-for-daylight-savings-time/ DST Guide https://www.livescience.com/56048-daylight-saving-time-guide.html Histories Of A Mass Delusion https://news.nationalgeographic.com/2016/03/060309-daylight-saving-savings-time-nation-science-sunday/ http://time.com/4549397/daylight-saving-time-history-politics/ https://www.timeanddate.com/time/dst/history.html WWI Propaganda Campaign https://theoutline.com/post/1219/the-campaign-for-daylight-saving-time DST Web Exhibit http://www.webexhibits.org/daylightsaving/index.html ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Things You Don’t Wanna Know About DST https://www.history.com/news/8-things-you-may-not-know-about-daylight-saving-time Vas Ist Das Time? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K49rmobsPcY What If Time Did Not Exist? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=22WpuM6LauQ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QsnvIYXO44M Time & The Brain https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BEuNa1Vp_b0 Tyson-Splaining Time https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9CKPfLV7Ud0 The Illusion Of Time https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lUkmEJgGi4c https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oRGRh3jiSZg https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qqagqvn3g4 The Unbearable Non-Being Of Time https://www.express.co.uk/news/science/738387/Time-NOT-real-EVERYTHING-happens-same-time-einstein http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2932870/Is-future-decided-New-theory-time-suggests-past-present-future-exist-universe.html DST's Effect On Our Health https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7uHySC598j4 DST Is Killing Us https://vimeo.com/299560508 http://www.iflscience.com/health-and-medicine/daylight-saving-time-is-literally-killing-us/ https://www.colorado.edu/today/2020/01/30/spring-forward-daylight-saving-time-brings-surge-deadly-crashes ----------------------------------------------------------------------- DST: Why Oh Why Do We Do It? https://www.theweathernetwork.com/ca/videos/gallery/daylight-saving-time-why-do-we-do-it-and-is-it-really-helpful-anymore-/sharevideo/5747772583001/most_popular Getting Tired Of DST? https://www.nationalgeographic.com/science/2019/03/tired-of-daylight-saving-time-these-states-trying-to-end-clock-changes/ https://www.huffingtonpost.ca/entry/cancel-daylight-saving_n_56df2c75e4b0000de40652b8 https://www.texastribune.org/2019/02/26/texas-lawmakers-end-daylight-saving-time-1550177496/ https://www.sciencealert.com/unhealthy-daylight-saving-time-changes-are-are-being-legally-challenged-across-the-us Fall Back Forever https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kgh2JsV43q4 https://www.foxnews.com/opinion/its-time-for-daylight-saving-time-to-fall-back-forever https://www.nytimes.com/2019/03/27/world/europe/daylight-savings-time-european-union.html Lock The Clock https://www.sco.tt/time/ https://www.facebook.com/StopDSTime/ Fixing Daylight Saving Time Is This Easy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bMrb56dDpic Stop The Insanity! https://www.foxnews.com/opinion/daylight-saving-time-needs-to-be-abolished-lets-stop-the-insanity Time Has Come Today https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gg_kRsNukt0

[sideburnsandmelancholy]

honorhearted

“I’m surprised,” Ben admitted, furrowing his brows. “Given Joseph’s disdain, I didn’t imagine he would entrust you with that sort of responsibility.” Not that horse-rearing was glamorous or the most important work to be had on an estate, but Heathcliff’s former superior seemed as though he needed control in everything, even the lowliest of tasks.

Idly patting his steed’s neck, Ben listened to Heathcliff’s overheard gossip. With a snort, he rolled his eyes and set his horse into a comfortable trot, feeling a modicum of calm from the breeze carrying in over the rolling hills. “You find your former neighbor lovely?” he asked, unable to keep the amused doubt from entering his tone. “I’ve never heard you speak of anyone that way – not even that one laundry wench from camp, who made certain to launder your uniform first. I think she was sweet on you.”

Despite Heathcliff’s assurances, Ben remained skeptical. It was an awful long way to travel for just tea. Still, he kept his mouth shut as they rode toward Thrushcross Grange, only dignifying the occasional comment with a nod. It wasn’t until they came upon a woman – the infamous Nelly – that Heathcliff almost seemed to come alive.

Leery, Ben dismounted and watched the exchange silently, almost feeling as though he were witnessing a picture book come to life. These names, these faces, after all, had been in his imagination ever since Heathcliff first spoke of them as a boy.

When Nelly finally regarded him, Ben stepped away from the horse and nodded to her. “Major Tallmadge,” he greeted. He hadn’t used his Continental title in years, but somehow felt the need to bring it up here – not only for Heathcliff’s sake, but to command some respect from these loathsome, gawking blights of humanity. With a tight smile, he added, “Heathcliff is my adopted brother – though I don’t normally consider him as such. If anyone asks, he is my blood.”

Heathcliff smiled to himself at Benjamin’s query but did not have the heart to tell him that the true string puller was not Joseph but rather that of Hindley. He made sure that Heathcliff was in charge of the horses as it was an often perpetuated stereotype that Romani people had special connections or powers when it came to that of horse rearing. Therefore, because Heathcliff was able to do so it meant that Hindley was correct about his belief that Heathcliff was some “Gipsy interloper.”

Glancing back at Benjamin as he commented on Heathcliff’s choice of language, Heathcliff couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes well, I feel I should try to play the part of countryside gentleman, no?” He knew the woman Benjamin spoke of and while she had been kind to him she had never said anything direct and therefore he believed she found him repulsive as the others in camp had.

Nelly stared blankly at Benjamin as he introduced himself, her eyes scanning his form but also his accent. It surely wasn’t from Yorkshire or even London. Heathcliff busied himself by one of the hedges as the maid drew closer to the blond.

“Sir, I mean no disrespect but he’s a cuckoo in the nest.” She said matter-of-factly, alluding to the fact that Heathcliff was unwanted as a child and that no one in Wuthering Heights nor Thrushcross Grange had enjoyed his company.

Moving away from them, Heathcliff practiced how he was going to to introduce himself to Cathy after all these years.

“Major—as you say— whatever Heathcliff has said to you to make you declare such a claim you must understand that he is deceitful and most likely a ghoul of sorts.” Nelly looked as though she had seen a ghost, and given the events of Heathcliff’s departure she had every right to be wary.

“We thought he had fallen off the Moors the night he took off running into a storm. He took no horse, just went on foot…Mrs. Linton took off running after him, calling his name and the like…she caught a chill because of it, and she had set her heart and mind that he was dead.”

Nelly’s shoulders raised as she sighed heavily, glancing towards windows of where the parlour was.

“Mrs. Linton will not take this well…she is very sensitive to such upsets.” She alluded to Cathy’s peculiar sensibilities.

Just then, Heathcliff circled back with a look of determination. “Nelly, I’d like you to tell Mrs. Linton that she has a visitor from Gimmerton.”

He stiffened his lip before continuing.

“I’m no stranger, Nelly. You know me, and soon you shall know my brother Benjamin.” What I mean to say is, I’d like to have a word with your Mistress.”

Nelly stared at Heathcliff before she quietly exploded.

“A word with my Mistress? If you are Heathcliff, truly he, then you shall know that this will put her out of her head!”

Heathcliff said nothing, but rather stared pasted her intensely.

The maid was only gone a few moments before she returned and begrudgingly usher both men inside and into the large, clean estate.

There was a commotion in the other room and two voices could be heard:

“Cathy, I suggest we go to the kitchen as you have a visitor.” A male voice suggested, clearly Edgar Linton, the local Magistrate and owner of the home.

“I wonder who it could be, who is it Nelly?” A female voice asked, clearly that of Cathy.

The door to the parlour opened, and that’s when Catherine’s dark brown eyes stared upon the man before her in dark gentlemen’s attire.

She looked just as unrecognizable, her dress not out of place nor boots muddy and her hair perfectly tucked back. There was an awkwardness to their meeting, like children meeting for the first time. Cathy didn’t acknowledge Benjamin for her dark orbs were fixated at Heathcliff.

She took off running back into the parlour, crying out that Heathcliff had indeed returned, and she was almost manic with glee.

Edgar responded from behind the door, sounding cross. “What, that Gypsy ploughboy you used to play with?”

“I know you did not like him but you must be friends now! Nelly set up the parlour will you?”

“The parlour? Why not the kitchen, it would be a much more suitable place for him.”

“Hush, Edgar. He’s got a friend with him too!”

“Nelly, bid him to step up and please be discreet…we need not introduce a runaway servant as a brother.”

That’s when Nelly came out and asked both Benjamin and Heathcliff to follow her inside the parlour. Both Cathy and Edgar’s cheeks were tinted pink indicating that they had been bickering prior to their guests entering the room.

Cathy ran quickly to Heathcliff and dragged him over by his hands and with a frantic voice declared that they must be friends.

Heathcliff shook Edgar’s hand, his palm clearly crushing that of the slender blond. Heathcliff had grown tall, wide and athletic whereas Edgar was still small, slender and looked youthful despite being at least one year older than Heathcliff.

Edgar looked for an exit, and eyes frantically looking around settled upon the older man who mirrored similar features to his own. “And just who is this? Certainly your Master then?” He regarded Benjamin nervously, hoping his assumption was true.

sideburnsandmelancholy​:

“Of course they are, I raised these horses from wee mares.” Heathcliff responded confidently, running a steady hand along the hair and back of his preferred horse. The horse made a slight noise of recognition, moving backwards slightly. “Shh, it’s all right…” He whispered softly, noticing the aged whipping scars along the animal’s back.

Saddling himself upon the steed, Heathcliff nodded at Benjamin before grading him with a smile. “Of course. We are going to Thrushcross Grange. I spoke with one of the neighbours while I was out and she says that Cathy is indeed living there with her husband Edgar.” He spoke matter of factly, without a hint of rage or jealousy. “The neighbour the lovely lady that she is also shared that Miss Isabella is still living at home as well. It is a very different place than Wuthering Heights, you shall see.”

They moved along and outside of the fenced area of the farm. The wind picked up slightly, and Heathcliff smiled genuinely. “I just want to have tea, catch up, and see how things have been since my absence, that’s all.” He reassured Benjamin.

Upon arrival at the opposite estate, it was clear that there were servants, maids, and footmen taking care of the property: the grass was short, hedges were perfect, not a stone was out of place. Along the fence was an older woman, closer to Benjamin’s age than Heathcliff’s bent down and picking apples.

“That’s Nelly.” Heathcliff regarded, nodding his head. “She raised us.” Dismounting quietly, Heathcliff motioned for Benjamin to do the same. He secured the horse and made his way in the shadows along the tree line.

“Nelly.” Heathcliff hissed from the shadows.

Nelly just about dropped the basket full of fruit as the voice in the darkness hissed her name.

“I-I’m sorry sir, but who goes there?” She called out, her dialect thick and hard to discern.

Heathcliff chuckled and stepped out from the darkness, practically beaming at Benjamin in the process.

“It’s me, don’t tell me you don’t recognize me.” He laughed, standing with his hands outstretched.

The woman stared blankly for a moment before her eyes grew wide and she did in fact drop the basket of fruit before whispering.

“Heathcliff? Is that you?” She trembled slightly, looking him up and down. “I didn’t recognize you in that garb and with your accent having changed.” She remarked, at a loss for words. “How? How are you alive? Cathy searched the moors in the storm the night you took off—she caught a chill because of it—and she could not find you!” Her intense eyes looked up at the young man she once used to bath and regarded Benjamin.

“Who’s this then, whatever bloke you’ve managed to convince that your business dealings are true?”

“I’m surprised,” Ben admitted, furrowing his brows. “Given Joseph’s disdain, I didn’t imagine he would entrust you with that sort of responsibility.” Not that horse-rearing was glamorous or the most important work to be had on an estate, but Heathcliff’s former superior seemed as though he needed control in everything, even the lowliest of tasks.

Idly patting his steed’s neck, Ben listened to Heathcliff’s overheard gossip. With a snort, he rolled his eyes and set his horse into a comfortable trot, feeling a modicum of calm from the breeze carrying in over the rolling hills. “You find your former neighbor lovely?” he asked, unable to keep the amused doubt from entering his tone. “I’ve never heard you speak of anyone that way – not even that one laundry wench from camp, who made certain to launder your uniform first. I think she was sweet on you.”

Despite Heathcliff’s assurances, Ben remained skeptical. It was an awful long way to travel for just tea. Still, he kept his mouth shut as they rode toward Thrushcross Grange, only dignifying the occasional comment with a nod. It wasn’t until they came upon a woman – the infamous Nelly – that Heathcliff almost seemed to come alive.

Leery, Ben dismounted and watched the exchange silently, almost feeling as though he were witnessing a picture book come to life. These names, these faces, after all, had been in his imagination ever since Heathcliff first spoke of them as a boy. 

When Nelly finally regarded him, Ben stepped away from the horse and nodded to her. “Major Tallmadge,” he greeted. He hadn’t used his Continental title in years, but somehow felt the need to bring it up here – not only for Heathcliff’s sake, but to command some respect from these loathsome, gawking blights of humanity. With a tight smile, he added, “Heathcliff is my adopted brother – though I don’t normally consider him as such. If anyone asks, he is my blood.”

[the-domestication-of-the-dog]

The 7th Annual L.A.O.K. Awards

Had a goal to break 100 new releases this year. Happy to report that I reached my goal--watching The Angry Birds Movie on Netflix in the process--before remembering three separate movies I had forgotten to mark down in the process of writing this post. So since I don’t want my viewing to have been in vain, stay tuned for my intensive shot-by-shot longform essay on The Angry Birds Movie. “Part 1 (of 8): Mise-en-Scène” coming January 9. Now on to the show:

Best Movie American Honey The Fits Indignation Moonlight Silence

Welp, sorry everyone. I’m going to assume that some of you that live in LA have seen some of these, but to everyone else, SNOREFEST! To help jazz these up a bit, I’m going to have this year’s Layokie’s hosted by the promoters of the Kickspit Underground Rock Festival, Under-Underground Records’ own DJ Supersoak and Lil Blaster.

In case you didn’t notice, it’s that crazy-ass time of year again, the Lay-O-KEEZ! Woot-Woot! This year we got all the best movies: a meandering 3-hour mumblecore saga about a bunch of white trash teens riding around in a van selling magazine subscriptions, and it stars--SHIA LABEOUF WITH A RAT TAIL; an ultra low-budget indie about a quiet girl who wants to be in a dance group--BUT EVERYONE GETS SEIZURES; a Philip Roth adaptation with a 17-minute long scene that’s--JUST DIALOGUE; another low-budget indie about a quiet boy who has trouble breaking out of a very sad home and school environment and has trouble--DEALING WITH HIS SEXUALITY; a slogging, 3-hour religious epic about the struggle to hear God’s voice after sacrificing everything to travel to a foreign land and find a long-lost priest against impossible odds--AND ALSO THERE’S TORTURE.

In all seriousness, I thought this year was filled with small, challenging movies that deserved a wide audience, and if this list serves to even get a couple more views for them, I’d be satisfied. HAHA, HELL YEEAH.

And the Layokie goes to… Silence

Five minutes into this movie, I was in love. Scorsese is easily my favorite director, but that doesn’t mean he gets a pass. I thought Hugo was fairly awful. (Faithful readers will remember that Hugo previously won an “Absent on Purpose” Layokie, and was further remarked upon thusly: “Hugo should have been called, George Melies and the Kid Who Had a Problem but then Solved It After 45 Minutes.”) Silence, on the other hand, was pure, epic filmmaking of a type you hardly see in The Walt Disney Company’s America. Silence was thoughtful, compelling, beautiful, and as religiously moving as The Passion of the Christ (which I mean as a compliment to both films). Of course it’s only in four theaters in the country right now, but I sincerely wish that Bible Belt churches would buy up theaters for this as they have for faith-based schlock like Fireproof and God’s Not Dead. I recognize that non-believers won’t have the same emotional connection watching that I had, and though there’s no way for me to separate those elements out of my appreciation, I’d like to think it holds up otherwise. Silence also has layers of suspense, heartache, and tragedy, an outstanding cast (though one sadly lacking in women), gorgeous direction and cinematography, and minimal noticeably cartoonish effects shots (a growing blight on Scorsese’s oeuvre).

A very close second is The Fits, a movie I’ve been trumpeting the better part of the year, and was fully expecting to remain my favorite. You can watch it now on Amazon Prime, and it’s only 70 minutes long. So just do it! The only problem is that there’s no way it could stand up to the hype I’ve been giving. I just didn’t know any other way to get people to watch it. It actually sucks. It’s awful. Don’t even watch it. Actually, do go ahead and watch it, but just know that it sucks terribly and you’ll probably hate it. But also put it on the biggest screen you have, turn off the lights, and put your phones and computers in the other room. You can survive for 70 minutes.

Honorable Mentions The Lobster Jackie Manchester by the Sea Nocturnal Animals The Witch

Best Director Anna Rose Holmer - The Fits Yorgos Lanthimos - The Lobster Pablo Larraín - Jackie Martin Scorsese - Silence Denis Villeneuve - Arrival

And the Layokie goes to… Martin Scorsese

From a Scorsese fanboy’s perspective, the really interesting thing about his direction in Silence is what he doesn’t do. Not a ton of moving camera, not a ton of cuts, no fancy transitions (although I do seem to remember a couple of jump dissolves). Shutter Island was similarly straightforward in style, but Silence really brings to mind--not surprisingly--The Last Temptation of Christ in invoking an invisible Hollywood style. (In fact, the shot above was pretty much the only one in the whole film to really draw attention to itself.) Without the traditional Scorsese wow moments, it’s easy to see the skill he has in generating tone, creating suspense, and evoking the POV of his characters. One of the things I like doing (I think I got this from someone else) is watching the shot-reverse shots of great directors. Pay attention to one of Silence’s opening scenes, in which three priests have a conversation across a table. The composition and pacing make it easy to see why Scorsese (with Thelma Schoonmaker at his side) is one of the best.

Honorable Mentions Andrea Arnold - American Honey Robert Eggers - The Witch Barry Jenkins - Moonlight James Schamus - Indignation Makoto Shinkai - Your Name. Trey Edward Shults - Krisha Oliver Stone - Snowden

Original Screenplay Andres Duprat - The Distinguished Citizen Yorgos Lanthimos and Efthymus Filippou - The Lobster Taylor Sheridan - Hell or High Water Paul Laverty - I, Daniel Blake Kenneth Lonergan - Manchester by the Sea

Damn is Taylor Sheridan the screenwriter of the hour or what? Last year with Sicario, now Hell or High Water (originally titled Comancheria because obviously no self-respecting screenwriter would name their script after a chunk of an idiom [plenty of screenwriters do do this, they just don’t have any self respect...or they do respect themselves, but they’re shit and they shouldn’t]).

And the Layokie goes to… Yorgos Lanthimos and Efthymis Filippou - The Lobster

The charm of this script is inherently tied to the direction of the film and the deadpan delivery of its actors, but The Lobster is fun, original, and funny, while also tragic and gut wrenching, using the silliest and scariest of premises (not unlike Nathan for You) to point a frighteningly accurate finger at human nature.

Honorable Mentions Andrea Arnold - American Honey Jeremy Saulnier - Green Room Noah Oppenheim - Jackie Jonathan Perera - Miss Sloane Robert Eggers - The Witch

Adapted Screenplay Eric Heisserer - Arrival James Schamus - Indignation Luke Davies - Lion Barry Jenkins - Moonlight Tom Ford - Nocturnal Animals Jay Cocks and Martin Scorsese - Silence

And the Layokie goes to… Jay Cocks and Martin Scorsese - Silence

Come on now, you didn’t see that coming?

Best Actor Casey Affleck - Manchester by the Sea Colin Farrell - The Lobster Andrew Garfield - Silence Jake Gyllenhaal - Nocturnal Animals Logan Lerman - Indignation

I know Colin Farrell's job is to say everything completely deadpan, but he just does it so damn well.

And the Layokie goes to… Andrew Garfield

Alright I know this is now the Silence parade. But he really was the best. Go see it. Also his accent sucks in Hacksaw Ridge.

Honorable Mentions Dave Johns - I, Daniel Blake Joseph Gordon Levitt - Snowden

Best Actress Amy Adams - Arrival Natalie Portman - Jackie Taraji P. Henson - Hidden Figures Molly Shannon - Other People Meryl Streep - Florence Foster Jenkins

And the Layokie goes to… Molly Shannon

Really a shame that Molly Shannon hasn’t t been getting any props for this performance. This one’s on Netflix, and worth watching just for her.

Best Documentary 13th I Am not Your Negro O.J.: Made in America The Beatles: Eight Days a Week - The Touring Years Weiner

And the Layokie goes to… O.J.: Made in America

There’s not even a question. The only reason this didn’t make it to my list of top films is because it was so obviously made for television. (It’s an 8.5-hour film set up in five parts, aka, five weeknights.) However, it did qualify for consideration, and it is incredible. If you have access to WatchESPN, make time for it. It’s about much more than O.J., but even if it wasn’t, his story alone is fascinating. Whatever you call it, it’s one of the best things you can watch on a screen right now.

Honorable Mentions City of Gold Life, Animated Lo and Behold: Reveries of the Connected World Tickled Under the Gun

Best Supporting Actor John Goodman - 10 Cloverfield Lane Yôsuke Kubozuka (as Kichijiro) - Silence Tracy Letts - Indignation Issei Ogata (as the Inquisitor) - Silence Michael Shannon - Nocturnal Animals

And the Layokie goes to… Issei Ogata

Again, with the Silence! Again, just go see it. Unlike Andrew Garfield you won’t think I’m an idiot for picking this guy.

Honorable Mentions Mahershala Ali - Moonlight (thought this before everyone else started saying it!) Adam Driver - Silence Peter Sarsgaard - Jackie Aaron Taylor-Johnson - Nocturnal Animals

Best Supporting Actress Nicole Kidman - Lion Hayley Squires - I, Daniel Blake Tilda Swinton - Hail, Caesar! Rachel Weisz - The Lobster Rima Te Wiata - Hunt for the Wilderpeople Michelle Williams - Manchester by the Sea

And the Layokie goes to… Nicole Kidman

She’s the bomb. Also go see Lion. It will make you cry. It made me cry, and I don’t cry at anything (except The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, which makes me bawl like a baby.)

And now, Ass Dan to present all the good stuff. (RIP Ass Dan 1977-2017)

Don’t Sleep On The Accountant Goat The Legend of Tarzan Miss Sloane Snowden

Movie that Deserves Discussion Lion

Already talked about Lion some. Weeks after seeing it, this one is still an enigma for me. It was incredibly well written, directed, and acted, and it is an amazing story I think everyone should see. It’s truly worth watching. But though it was both visually stunning and emotionally engaging (brought real tears to my eyes--the kind that drip down your face) it’s also branded by a sentimentality that keeps me from wanting to place it into the annals of great cinema. Is this a problem with me, that movies with gushy happy endings can’t be considered great art by their very nature because I’m a cynic? Or does this say something about the inherent struggle we all face as humans and the dishonesty of schmaltz? My gut says the later, but my tear ducts say otherwise! Confused!

The Something Award Paterson

The Nothing Award Sing Street

Worst Movies 1. Nina 2. Independence Day: Resurgence 3. Sausage Party 4. Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk 5. Tale of Tales (the half I could sit through anyway) 6. The Brothers Grimsby 7. The BFG 8. The Little Prince 9. Live by Night 10. The Angry Birds Movie

Worst Actress Zoe Saldana - Nina

God, was this movie hard to watch. I would never have sat through it except that it was my job. First, she was wearing black face. You can try to explain to me how it wasn’t offensive because she is also black, but I was personally offended. Her accent was awful. She couldn’t sing anything like Nina Simone (no dig here, who could?). Lastly, the movie was pointless and boring as shit. Okay, I just decided to check to the movie on Rotten Tomatoes and I’ll save you the suspense. 3% fresh. AKA the opposite of fresh. 1 positive review of 39. Let’s guess, Armond White? Just went back and checked again. Nope, it’s someone named Kam Williams from something called Baret News Wire. This “positive” review notes that Saldana herself later admitted “I didn’t think I was right for the part.” Williams goes on to say: “However, I suspect anyone who actually sees the film would find Zoe’s Africanized features to be less of a distraction than her singing. For, while she certainly manages to hold her own, Nina’s fans will undoubtedly be more disappointed by the absence of the haunting strains of The High Priestess of Soul’s distinctive voice than by her impersonator’s performing in blackface.” That’s from the only positive review! Williams then finishes with “Ignore all the blackface haters, singing aside, Zoe Saldana delivers a decent enough Nina Simone impersonation here to make you wonder what all the brouhaha was ever about. Very Good (3 stars).” You know a biopic performance is good when the only person advocating for it labels it an “impersonation.”

Good in Everything Award Adam Driver - Midnight Special, Paterson, Silence

Best Cameo Tie: Nick Kroll and Nick Offerman - Knight of Cups (If I remember correctly, you can see a chunk of Nick Kroll’s nose and the back of Nick Offerman’s head.)

Best Song Humble by Connor4Real aka The Lonely Island  - Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping

Actual Best Song The Veil by Peter Gabriel - Snowden

Other Best Song Shiny by Jemaine Clement - Moana (though Disney didn’t submit it ‘cause they’re dumb)

Best Animated Feature Your Name.

Fastest Learner Doctor Strange, who goes from woefully inept, to able to defeat any henchman, to able to defeat the antagonist, to able to defeat the over-villain, which is some universal galactic superpower, all in the course of about 12 real-time hours.

Most Guts Going All “Splat!” Hacksaw Ridge

The Tallest Tree and Longest Vine in the Known Universe Award The Legend of Tarzan In the words of Jeb Bush, “Please click.”

The Worst Scene to Watch While Sitting Between Your Mom and Your Aunt and Your Girlfriend The one in Bad Moms when they’re prepping her for her date and talking about cocks and jacking off uncircumcised dicks and licking foreskins and cum and all that stuff.

I did get up and change seats at this point.

Movie the Critics Hated but I Thought Was Great Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice

Movies Everyone Loved but I Thought Were Cinematically Incohesive, Lacking Character and Plot, Were Almost Saved by Brilliant Endings, but then Weren’t La La Land Swiss Army Man

Biggest Disappointment Jason Bourne

Scariest Moment In The Red Turtle when the guy decides to escape that well by swimming out through that tight channel. Like dude, you’re going to get stuck and drown in there you psycho. I would die trying to climb out for five days straight before I’d try to swim out through a tunnel.

Number of Movies I Had to Watch Isabelle Huppert Get Raped In 2

Biggest Gaffe Phantom Boy is a wonderful animated feature from France, but which is set in New York. At one point they get on an elevator and go from floor 0 to -3. Uh, do research much? In America, that would be floor 1 to P3. Eye roll emoji!

Least Believable On-screen Couple Jesse Eisenberg and Blake Lively in Cafe Society

Can people stop casting Jesse Eisenberg as debonair playboys? It’s not working.

Edge of My Seat Award Green Room Don’t Breathe Nocturnal Animals Silence

You Can and Should Watch on Netflix 13th Lo and Behold: Reveries of the Connected World Other People

You Can and Should Watch on Amazon Prime Cafe Society Green Room Embrace of the Serpent Eye in the Sky THE FITS! Krisha The Lobster Louder than Bombs The Witch

Best Scenes Captain America: Civil War - The escape from Bucky’s Berlin hotel and the big ol’ fight with all the people (even though Vision just disappeared for huge chunks of the fight because he could obviously just disarm all of his opponents at once without even hurting them). Doctor Strange - You know the one where are the crazy stuff happens The Fits - The climax Hell or High Water - Any time Katy Mixon was on screen Lion - The meeting of the mothers Midnight Special - Escape from the facility Moana - The song Shiny Nocturnal Animals - The entire highway confrontation Rogue One: A Star Wars Story - Darth Vader tearing shit up

Absent on Purpose Elle The Founder The Neon Demon War Dogs

Haven’t Seen 20th Century Women Captain Fantastic The Edge of Seventeen Everybody Wants Some!! Fences The Handmaiden Love & Friendship Loving Toni Erdmann

Rest in Peace Anton Yelchin

[that0negayslytherin]

100. “As the world comes to an end, I’ll be here to hold your hand cause you’re my king and I’m your lionheart...”

(Another AO3 reader request. Also this song fucks a VERY good choice!!!)

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The darkness has forms a swirling vortex, an enormous vacuum that gorges itself on the plains that surround the kingdom. Inside the castle, fires are extinguished, cries echo against stone. This blight is unavoidable, and its course is set for the king.

He stands in the window of the Western Tower, both hands on the hilt of his sword. King Benjamin twists the sword, the sound of its blade grating against cobblestone. No matter; her can hardly hear above the howling of the oncoming decay.

“My Lord,” comes a voice from the entrance way.

Turning on his heel, the king can’t help but smile. Squire Salazar stands, hunched, eyes shot through with terror.

“The wizard just issued a statement. We can not avoid the darkness. It will be upon us within minutes.”

He nods. “I am aware of this, squire,” he says. “The wizard is not as wise as most assume.”

“Why are you smiling, Your Majesty?” the squire asks, wide-eyed, baffled.

King Benjamin chuckles. “Something about being looked dead in the face by such a terrible fate puts things into perspective. I feel that worry is futile at this point. In my last moments, I would rather be brave.”

“And to smile is to have bravery?”

“In some cases, yes. Come to me. Please.”

The squire licks his lips and straightens, his breathing having evened out. “My Lord?”

“Ah, please, Victor,” he says, eschewing formalities. “I am nobody’s lord, nor have I demonstrated any highness. In the end, those titles do little to shield me from the inevitable. In fact, they may be the very reason we are in this position to begin with.”

Cautiously, Victor approaches, the moan of the dark storm outside only growing. The king lays down his weapon and stretches out his hand, which Victor takes in his own. “May the gods help us,” Victor says as he receives his first full glance of the abiding terror.

“The gods are long gone, my love. All that remains is destruction. And whatever awaits us on the other side.”

“So you believe in an afterlife?”

“I believe something must come after life,” the young king responds. “Whether it be rebirth, eternity, or an expanse of nothingness. All I know is wherever I go, I will never know peace until you are there with me.”

Victor’s grasp on his hand constricts. He steps closer. “Benji,” he says, using the nickname that had been reserved for only the most tender of moments, the times when not even the king’s guardsmen knew of the squire’s presence in the king’s bedchamber. An old name his mother used to call him. “Wherever you go, I swear I will look. And I will find you. If it takes another life, or another ten, or until time caves in on itself and the darkness has swallowed everything. I will be there with you.”

The king had wanted to go out with dignity and courage, but with this man by his side, his heart has cracked open, flowing out through his eyes. “If only I’d had the courage to love you as loudly as you deserved in this life,” he whispers and brushes his knuckles against Victor’s cheek. “The things we could have done. What we could have been.”

“We did enough. We were enough. We are here now, are we not?” Victor asks, a tear running into Benji’s open hand. He has to raise his voice to be heard; the storm has consumed much of the land, houses falling into ruin and dissolved into its gaping maw.

“I did always learn the most when you were by my side,” Benji murmurs. He leans in, forehead pressed against Victor’s. “I thought I knew what courage meant. But I could never measure up to you.”

“Then I will have enough for both of us,” he whispers, voice almost drowned out completely. King Benjamin kisses the squire, ignoring the flow of tears mingling at the intersection of their jaws.

Benji turns back to the window, the tempest encroaching, already inhaling crumbling chunks of the castle.

Victor takes one of Benji’s free hands in both of his; Benji lays the other on top, a knot of warm skin and bruised knuckles and bones too brittle for their youth. The sound is too much for talking now, so they hold each other with abandon and brace for oblivion.

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