#context2

[random-meme-bot]

Something I made in my free time as a way to clear my head a bit from exams.

Context1

Context2

Original under the cut

Also, for anybody wondering about their clothes, I didn't feel like their normal clothes would fit in a winter setting, so I instead drew Surge with her Ridders outfit, and Nina with a mix of her normal desing and her Rustlands skin from CTR Nitro Fueled.

[hnzflps]

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[82mitsu]

{18Trip} Tidbit collection of producer & scenario director interview with Numan

A rather big tidbit collection of my personal highlights from the 18TRIP interview from numan, featuring A3! producer Okita-san and scenario director Fujii-san.

These are paraphrased and not a direct translation, but I hope it will be interesting information either way!

Original plans conceived during the pandemic. Okita-san felt a sense of indebtedness to the tourism & travel industry, so he wanted to ‘give back’ to it.

The philosophy of 18TRIP puts emphasis on forming an emotional connection with places outside of the game. It plays on the idea of doing ‘pilgrimages’, aka, going to visit places you have seen in your favorite movie or anime. They wanted to create a sort of incentive to go to the places featured in the game, thus establishing an emotional connection between the game and real life, leading to a newfound appreciation of the game itself.

The main scenario writers, Misao Higuchi and Raichi Kyuyozawa, were chosen because Okita-san himself is big a fan of their works. He believes they’re capable of creating complex characters, depicting them with a range of delicate, fierce emotions which feels satisfying. And more than anything, being able to write truly beautiful dialogue that will be etched within your heart. 

Context: Misao Higuchi is a writer for several BL manga and novels. Raichi Kyuyozawa’s most notable work includes the BL 18+ visual novel game Paradise, besides that they also worked on a selection of several BL mobile games.

The artist, Oyo-san, was chosen due their talent of being able to draw male and female characters in a charming way. They also excel at drawing backgrounds too. Being able to appeal to men and women, it creates an unisex appeal which is fitting for a joseimuke game born in the ‘Reiwa’ era. 

Context: Some of Oyo-san’s most noteable work are the designs for Vtubers Luca Kaneshiro and Alban Knox. Context2: The Reiwa era is the period of the current imperial reign in Japan. this started on May 1st, 2019.

For fashion, while it is a futuristic setting, they wanted to keep it grounded in the fact it could be something worn in reality. The characters have their own brands they prefer, and some of them might be wearing the same brands. 

A big theme in 18TRIP is how each of the Mayor Wards have “a burden they cant tell others about”. There is a so called “hidden” or “surprise” aspect to all of these characters. In the game, the more you unlock their intimacy, they more you will get to know their true self. By being able to touch upon each of the characters secrets, it will flesh them out in a three dimensional way, making you love and appreciate them even more.

While the creation of the groups follows a pattern just like in A3! (day, to noon, to evening, to night) there is no prerequisite to unlock stories. You can start with whatever group to your liking at any given moment, nor do they need to be played in order.

The volume of the main story scenario is a huge volume of 630.000 Japanese characters.

Context: English, this should equal to 250.000 english words, roughly the same length as a standard 20~ hour visual novel. 

Players can switch whenever they want between female & male player character. They wanted to keep the players tastes in mind and appeal to them. The MC’s are also siblings, simply because Okita-san would be sad if the other vanished from the setting when picking one of them. The siblings have a  good relationship and the absence of the other is explained by how they’re traveling the world while you’re working.

The staff team is aiming to cover all 47 prefectures, and want to make people think of 18TRIP wherever they go in Japan. The interviewer asks if there’s a possibility that there will be more than 100 characters in the future, and Okita-san quips with a chuckling “yes!”.

There’s also an emphasis on the characters relationships, related to the main story. Each dynamic has a ‘duo name’. Some relationships are a strong duo from the start, others get entangled within the main story and become stronger over time. Fujii-san hopes that you’ll be able to feel how precious these dynamics can be.

As Okita-san mentioned, he wants to create “contents that increases your feelings of happiness when travelling”, which is also his number one priority. He knows there are people that can’t go travelling right this instant, but they hope that they instead can create a memorable experience by also letting these kind of players visit tourist attractions with the characters through the contents, and create memories like that too. He’d be happy if you’d get hooked thinking about the characters, wondering where their next destination would be.

That is all I personally thought was interesting from the interview, as you can see it is quite a lot! Do check out the interview for yourself if you feel like it!

[chloerd]

Evgeny Antufiev

Evgeny Antufiev is a Russian artist, who uses his art to craft his own mythologies through making artwork for exhibitions mixed with a kitsch aesthetic. He takes inspiration from shamanic practice in the Siberian region of Tuva.

His sculptures are often made from different materials, the ones most interesting to me are his fibre-textile pieces that look as though they have been sewn together with found materials and contain hard materials on the inside. This sculpture takes form of an animal with four legs and either numerous heads or something that resembles heads. It tells a story, but I am not quite sure what the story is, they are interesting to look at and remind me of John Powell-Jones’ artwork where he fixes fibre together to make obscure costumes. The unusual forms and what the sculptures suggest seem to relate to my work, especially my performative pieces with the fibre-textiles.

[aluoka]

For me, the idea of ​​following only one particular artist is simply absurd. I even can imagine how can be it possible. I am influenced by many artists. Their visual knowledge often engaged multiple senses and requires the interaction of me as a viewer. One of the many artists that inspire me is Andy Warhol. Warhol's practice and his ability to manipulate popular tastes and gain recognition. His ability to learn as he moved through rapidly challenging movements. His drawings were often comic, decorative and bizarre, and their tone was completely different from the cold and impersonal mood.

He said: “How can you say one style is

better than another? You ought to

be able to be an Abstract

Expressionist next week, or a Pop

artist, or a realist, without feeling

you've given up something. I think

that would be so great, to be able

to change styles. And I think that's

what's going to happen, that's

going to be the whole new scene.”

[2twopiid]

@trainstoppin ok that’2 faiir actually. iin2ult ii2 two har2h of a label for what a normiie ii2.

[aluoka]

”Artist Vladimir Semenskiy does large canvas paintings, showing reality as a random sum of spontaneous personal movements. Painting itself is formed of spontaneous bodily movements and presents them as the closest reality and simultaneously the closest secret of which they are born. His painting is corporeal and speaks of the body, which is put together from unpredictable inner movements. It is distinguished by chaotic frankness and eurythmy. It is both intimate and eccentric. It grows out of a runaway and intuitive spirit and speaks of freedom as an indispensable prerequisite for the emergence of man.

Sasha Balashov

BIOGRAPHY:

Vladimir Semenskiy was born in 1968 in Imantau village, Kazakhstan.

In 1991, he graduated from art school, Krasnotur'insk, Russia.

He has studied in Academy of Arts by Ilia Repin in St.Petersburg.

Since 2010 he is a member of the Creative Union of Russia.

Lives and work in Moscow.

Since 2008 collaborates with art critic and collector Alexander Balashov.

Since 2009 artist of “11.12 Gallery”, Moscow, Russia.

Since 2010 artist of “Krokin gallery”, Moscow. Russia. ”

https://semenskiy.com/cv-and-contacts-2

I am astonished by freedom of his description of the scene and also how the intention to choose colours palette. However, it is not the only colour; it is also geometric shape are embedded in this picture. I liked the exciting work.

#context2

Vladimir Semensky (Russian, b. 1968), Swimming Pool, 2017. Oil on canvas, 120 x 100 cm.

[kishi-mi]

hi hello due to a glitch-fuckuppery i will be posting my art to @nin-nyan-ve so follow me there for art

this account may be used as a personal portfolio of sorts in the future

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki + doctor!wife saves his life

☆— fem reader, ANGST, fluff, swearing, descriptions of blood and medical procedures.

☆— a/n; i wrote this a while ago, and i apologize beforehand for any mistakes. i'm not a doctor.🙃

☆—context; reader and bakugou have an arranged marriage. reader is quirkless, but her parents aren't. a business made by his parents and hers made them end up married. bakugou and reader have hated each other since they met; however, lately they had improved their relationship a lot by this moment.

☆—context2; let's pretend for the sake of this fic that morphine and nitroglycerin don't work well together, and it's deadly when combined. you'll understand why in a bit. *wink wink*

"Miss Y/L/N, you are needed in the ER urgently. Please, direct yourself here. I repeat, Miss Y/L/N…"

You looked up from the wound you were checking on one of your patients in the ICU to the speakers of the hospital. The voice even sounded urgent, which was kind of unsettling and strange; however your movements didn't hurry. You realized the severity of the call when one of your colleagues entered the room and urged you to hurry and go while she would take your place in caring for the patient you were currently with.

And it felt like a bucket of cold water when you saw Uraraka standing at the door of that room, looking all beaten and tears streaming down her face.

Oh, no.

The only reason she would be here looking like that was because of a fight that ended badly with some villain, like any other hero would likely be there, at the hospital for. However, the fact that she was there, looking for you specifically…

It only meant one thing.

Bakugou.

The next thing you knew is that you're running. The voice of your boss in the very back of your mind nagging at you, "do not run in the hospital!"; but you couldn't care less. Especially not now. You could also hear Uraraka running behind you too with some difficulty; and you felt a bit bad about that. She was also hurt and you should have attended to her wounds, yet he was the only thing you had a mind to care for at the moment.

When you entered the ER, it was chaos. Pro heroes, injured all around the place; even Izuku was sitting on a gurney, a nurse stitching a new open wound in his right arm, face bloody and bruised, dirt all over him. Kaminari was laying on the one next to him, also bruised and passed out.

As your eyes traveled throughout the whole place, you realized every Pro Hero you knew was there, everyone who had belonged to Class A especially. But you couldn't find Bakugou.

All the air in the room felt scarce when you saw Kirishima move around and discuss something with a doctor in one of the private rooms.

Oh, fucking no…

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as you directed yourself there, the beatings of your heart deafening you almost completely, your attention solely in that room where you knew for sure Bakugou was in.

When Kirishima saw you entering the room, he immediately stood close to you, his face also bruised and bloody and dirty, eyes full of tears that fell through his cheeks. He grabbed you by your shoulders and begged you to do something. But your eyes didn't leave the man, your man, laying there, unconscious, blood that slided from his head towards his face; one of his eyes was bloody and swollen and his left shoulder was dislocated. You could hear the bone going back to its place when another specialist put it back.

But your attention was on the monitor, where it showed his vitals getting lower and lower. Another doctor was doing CPR on him, which meant his heart was giving up.

"Y/N, please…"

Kiri's voice sounded very far away, when you could still feel him right in front of you, his hands starting to shake your whole body.

"Please, Y/N, do something!"

The movement of a doctor that suddenly held a syringe close to Bakugou and Kirishima's yell brought you back to your senses.

"DO NOT FUCKING MOVE!" You exclaimed, realizing what all of that scenario was about.

They were about to put Bakugou in a medical coma; and Kirishima and you knew what that meant. Morphine. They were about to inject morphine on a body that mostly had nitroglycerin inside. They were about to kill Pro Hero Dynamight, a.k.a. Bakugou Katsuki, a.k.a. your husband.

Kirishima sighed deeply, relief kicking inside his body as he cried, while everyone froze looking at you surprised. You immediately moved next to Bakugou as you checked on his vitals, your doctor skills possessing your body as you tended to him fast and meticulously and scolded at the same time at the other doctors for not realizing sooner their mistake that almost took your husband's life.

"But, if we can't put morphine on him, how do we take care of him?" You want to swear from there to hell at that doctor. He was obviously new, but he was asking what probably everyone was wondering. And you couldn't blame him for that.

Your mind started to run at two hundred miles per hour, trying, begging for it to find a solution.

Nothing.

"Y/N…" Kirishima called, still crying.

Nothing.

Your eyes filled with tears, so you closed them.

"Y/N," he called you again.

Nothing.

The air that went inside your lungs started to burn, and the exhale hurt your chest heavily.

"Y/N!"

"Shut up!" You yelled back.

All the blood in your body rushed to your chest and head, a pounding pain annoying your process of thinking. You hated-...

You opened your eyes suddenly. 

The blood.

"Blood," you whispered. "He needs a blood transfusion, NOW!"

"Y/N, we don't have his blood type available…"

"What?!" It's both yours and Kirishima's yell, at the same time.

"Fuck," you finally cursed.

And then it enlightened you.

"Connect me," you said as you moved, putting tubes and cables around you and Katsuki. Another doctor asked what you are talking about, "I have the same blood type. Connect me to him, that way his blood renews constantly as you heal him. It will help him stay."

Your relationship with Bakugou was complicated; hell, complicated didn't even hold the entirety of what it was. Having had an arranged marriage, hating each other's guts since the very first day you met, really didn't help you two get along well.

But he kept his promise to protect you, to provide for you. To be there for you, always.

Every day, he woke up first and always left you breakfast ready for when you finally got up, sometimes lunch too; he would always send a text message during the day reminding you to eat, to take a break here and there–in his own way, of course, full of swears and contemptuously.

You never backed away though, you always answered something annoying back that surely started another fight, another discussion between you too.

However, it didn't matter the fight, or what was said in that fight, Bakugou would always stay.

He would always lay in bed next to you at night; if the fight heated up too much, he would go on a run to cool himself down, but he would always come back home.

He would always stay next to you.

Kirishima was asked to leave the room as everyone started moving around you and his best friend, he saw as a cable connected directly your blood with his. He didn't really know what that meant, but he knew something. No matter how much you two fought, or how different you two were…

You loved him.

And he knew Katsuki loved you.

Even when none of you had admitted it yet.

But everything was confirmed to him when he heard you whisper at Bakugou, "Stay, please stay."

.

Bakugou Katsuki felt as if a brick wall fell onto him. And that was a new experience. He had been thrown at walls and through walls, but never one fell over him.

And it fucking sucked.

The white hospital lights hurt his eyes when he tried to open them, and there came all the other feelings. His left shoulder burned and felt tight–it didn't take him much to understand that it probably had been dislocated and the tightness probably came from bands that held it so any kind of movement wouldn't interrupt the process of healing. His legs felt like gum, like even if he tried to move them, the heaviness wouldn't allow it; but they were there, he could feel them, so that was good. His chest though…

It felt so heavy, probably if he paid enough attention he would be able to see the beatings of his heart through the scarred skin. He wanted to grunt annoyed at everything.

He then realized that among all the cables and tubes that were connected to him, there was one that made him feel a bit tingly, because he could feel whatever was that they were injecting him.

He fought against his eyelids until he could open them, and he wasn't expecting what his eyes found–well, one of them, because the other one was so swollen he could barely open it.

You were resting on a big reclining chair next to his bed with a hospital duvet over your body as you slept, a frown in your eyebrows showing how stressed you actually were. He had seen that frown before, sometimes at night when you went to sleep, when you both were laying on your sides but in front of each other, in the bed you shared. He would never fucking admit it out loud, but he sometimes would massage lightly in between your eyebrows until the muscles finally relaxed while you slept. Your face was laying uncomfortably to a side that made Bakugou think that position would probably make your neck hurt once you woke up.

And then he saw it.

The duvet was covering all your body, in exception to one arm that was over it, showing a small tube that clearly connected your blood with his. That's where the tingly came from.

Oh, fuck.

"Oh, you're awake, man," Kirishima's voice distracted him for a moment. He turned his head towards his best friend, who looked as shitty as himself.

Kirishima smiled at him, a whole bunch of emotion written all over his face.

"Fuck," was Bakugou's first word, with a raspy voice that didn't sound like his own, "Was it that bad?"

"You almost died," his best friend's voice cracked a bit, trying to hold back his emotion. "If it hadn't been for Y/N's quick thinking, you would have died. Doctors were about to put morphine on you…"

"Shit," Bakugou let his head fall back, realizing how badly everything could have gone.

"You had internal bleeding, a lung filled with liquid, and several broken bones, you were even bleeding from your head," Kirishima started as Bakugou kept swearing out loud, "When they said they needed to put morphine, I tried to warn them, but they kept dismissing me. Damn, I'm no doctor, but I know stuff!" The red head protested, which made Bakugou smile a bit. "I tried to gain some time as Uraraka ran for Y/N. When she came, obviously they did pay attention to her. She's… really good at this."

They both looked at you as you slept. Your eyebrows were still frowning, but Bakugou could listen to your deep breathing even in that distance. That eased him a bit.

Then his eyes went to the tube again and the anger started to fill his body.

"Why is she connected to me?" He asked, trying to make his raspy voice sound firm.

Kirishima sighed. "There was no other way. They needed to operate, and they didn't have your blood type available at the moment," Bakugou scoffed, hating everything and all you had to do for him. Kirishima laid closer to his face, ready to scold him for his stubbornness, "Your heart was slowing down, you fucking idiot."

That did surprise Bakugou; Kirishima never cursed at anyone. And when the blond found his friend's eyes, they were filled with tears.

"I-I'm fine…" Bakugou reassured him, clearly not knowing what else to do or say at his best friend's deep emotion.

Fuck, he had nearly fucking died.

"Yeah, and that's thanks to her," Kirishima pointed at you, "So be nice," he warned before backing away and taking a deep breath.

Bakugou looked back at you. This couldn't be real. You had to know, right?

"Does she know?"

"Know what?" Kirishima asked as he stretched his big and long arms over his head.

Bakugou looked back at him, "What this fucking means, Eijirou."

Kirishima frowned, now a bit worried, "I don't know, she didn't mention anything. Is it something bad?"

The blond closed his eyes, his right hand closing in a fist, jaw tight. When he was about to answer, a sweet and delicate voice coming out of a sleep state made him open his eyes and look directly in your direction.

"It simply means we are sharing blood," you said, stirring a bit in your chair, opening your eyes and finding deep red ones almost killing you with their gaze.

"Simply?" Bakugou mocked, shaking his head.

"That's what you said," Kiri looked suspicious at you, arms crossing over his chest.

"And I'm not lying or doing anything illegal," you defended yourself as two Pro Heroes looked at you with their Pro Hero scolding eyes.

"We know, but you're hiding information, I can see it clearly now," Kirishima protested, his voice still as gentle as always.

Your fingers started fidgeting with each other,  obviously nervous. For some reason, Kiri's gentle tone was more effective than Bakugou's murdering glare.

Your husband suddenly realized something and snorted, "You didn't tell anyone?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Yes, there fucking is!"

"No, there isn't!"

"Y/N! For fucks sake-..."

"Shut up, Bakugou!"

"I won't fucking shut up! You are telling them now-..."

"There's nothing to tell, Katsuki!"

"OKAY, ENOUGH!" Eijirou's scream startled both of you. "You both clear this up and tell me right now what you are talking about."

"Eijirou, we are sharing blood!" Bakugou looked like he was about to tear the hair out of his head.

The red head looked at his friends for a moment, back and forth, trying to connect what that meant. And then it clicked.

You two were sharing blood. You were receiving Bakugou's blood as much as he was receiving yours. Which meant…

Your body was currently receiving high doses of pure nitroglycerin through the blood.

"Oh, shit, Y/N!" Kirishima was instantly by your side, "You have to take that off, now!"

"No!" You said pushing him away as he tried to move the tube.

"Fucking yes, you are!" Bakugou protested, trying to sit a bit straighter.

"No, don't move, Bakugou! And stop touching me, Eijirou!" Everyone stopped when you stood up and they looked at your small but firm form standing with authority, "I have been doing this for the past three days you were unconscious, and I'll do it until the doctor says it is enough." You said, tone firm and final as you looked at Bakugou.

"Y/N, you don't fucking have a Quirk," he spat, yet you could see a tiny bit of light in his eyes that begged you to stop doing it.

"And I don't fucking need one to know when enough is enough."

"That's why you have been taking breaks," Kirishima suddenly realized.

"Yes," you admitted, eyes still locked in a fight with Bakugou's. "I take breaks of thirty minutes in between two and three hours," your tone, Kirishima could only describe it as trying to reassure Bakugou that you were fine. But his friend was stubborn.

"It's not enough, and you fucking know it, Y/N!" He protested again.

"I can do this, I'm not weak, Katsuki!"

Kirishima took several steps back as he saw his friend's eye twitch when you called him by his name. It was a clear intimate discussion between a husband and a wife now. He really tried to avoid smiling, but he couldn't, so he simply left the room, leaving this complicated couple to resolve this on their own.

"You. Do. Not. Have. A. Quirk." He repeated, his hand grabbing your wrist, gently, despite the heated discussion you were having.

"And I don't need one for this!" If he was stubborn, you doubled it.

"Y/N! You are not feeling it now, but you will later! And I can't-..."

"You can't what, Bakugou?!"

"LOOK AT ME! I can barely move, and I won't be able to take care of you when the nitroglycerin kicks in!"

"I don't need you to take care of me! I am taking care of you! Besides, a bit of vomiting didn't kill anyone…"

"FUCK, Y/N! You know shit! You don't know how badly this fucking Quirk hurt when I was a kid!" He admitted in a yell, his only eye open now clearly begging you, as the thumb of the hand that was holding your wrist caressed the back of your hand. He always did that, even though his voice and words were rough, his touch was always gentle, careful.

"Katsuki," your hand went to his cheek, holding it with all the gentleness you had. He couldn't avoid the sigh, the relief he felt when your touch finally made any contact with him. He didn't know how desperate he actually was for you to touch him. You saw it, as clear as day, how scared he actually was, so you gently laid your forehead against his without putting any kind of pressure, "I can do this. Please, please, let me help you…" Your throat suddenly felt tight as your eyes filled with tears, "You almost died…"

Your whisper made his insides curl, as his gaze went down to your connected arms, which was the same he was holding your wrist.

You could feel the hold he had on your wrist tighten a little bit by your words, and you sniffed, trying to hold back your emotions.

And that simple action crumbled evey wall Katsuki could have put in between you two.

He was taking deep intakes of breath, your breath that was so close to his face and it felt like it was already healing him.

"You'll take breaks each hour."

"No, that's barely enough time to help it travel your whole body, and you know it."

Bakugou huffed, "Fine, two hours."

You pulled away and rolled your eyes, a traitorous tear rolling down on your cheek, "That's what I've been doing."

"Fucking brat…" He muttered, trying to hide a smirk, and you smiled in satisfaction.

"A simple thank you would be enough," you winked at him, which made him roll his eye.

You saw the little flutter of the other eye that was barely open at its movement, so you immediately went doctor mode and prepared everything to clean his eye, again.

Bakugou simply looked at you and let you work. And as he watched you, he couldn't avoid thinking how good all of you felt close to him, how stupid he was for all this time had you at arms length just because he thought you weren't strong enough, when in reality he was afraid of you getting involved in his world. For having treated you all this time like feather easy to break, when here you were, being the strongest person in the room while taking care of him and his wounds and also sharing blood with him to keep him alive like it was nothing.

He had underestimated you, and now he felt like a jerk.

A jerk that was completely in love with you.

"Thank you," he whispered back.

[bannock-freak]

BZZZZZZT

(context1)

(context2)

[aluoka]

Iris van Herpen is a Dutch fashion designer who is widely recognized as one of fashion’s most talented and forward-thinking creators who continuously pushes the boundaries of fashion design.

She speaks of her work as a continuous dance between skills and innovation, the female body it's forms services for her as a canvas for the visualise the invisible relationship between the mind and body and transform it into the evolution of forms.

Reference: https://www.irisvanherpen.com/about

#context 2

Iris van Herpen’s new 2020 collection called Sensory Seas. 

[toybunn]

[context1] - [context2] 

[aluoka]

Lita Cabellut - one of the most successful in Spain artists country.

Did little work for prostitutes "in their mom’s dating club, to the shelter and from there to a recognized girl from a family that changed her life.

She says art has always been around us, but

she was preoccupied with survival.

“A child will never recognize art as something separate. I was selling imaginary stars on the street.

what is not a real performance of art? It was a way to survive. "

She never came to school.

The most successful artists of Spain. Fly, run, be

stronger than all the children around me. The expectation of a child is always the same - poor or rich, we want to be superheroes, ”she says.

She discovered her passion for painting at the Prado Museum (Madrid)

Gerrit Rietveld (Amsterdam).

She paints portraits - Coco Chanel, Charles Chaplin or Frida Kahlo ... - and she paints portraits

people find that ugly

show "what's under the skin."

She was subjected to a rude and sharp character.

Textures and techniques that range from "17th-century painting studios to street art."

#context2

[2hiippiing-blog]

hone2tly glad people don’t talk about a2hen cru2he2 cau2e iit’2 liike, fiir2t of all the a2hen quad ii2 a lot more reliiant on 2peciifiic context2 than what cru2he2 really are, but al2o iimagiine ju2t talkiing two your friiend2 iin a go22iip 2e22iion liike “yeah, ii thiink ii would liike to attempt murder on thii2 per2on unle22 my other friiend 2topped me.”

al2o don’t @ me for not puttiing every ounce of nuance 2urroundiing the a2hen quad iin thii2 2hiitty joke po2t. iit’2 a joke.

[selinascatnip]

no but I went to get groceries and the Protestants were there INSIDE the grocery store singing loudly and forcing pamphlets at everybody

I was so thrown off my bearings that I gave the cashier the debit card instead of the credit one and freaked out a little bit when the machine didn't recognize it

context: I live in a heavily Catholic little town

context2: have no horse in this fight, been atheist since I was 13, just hate the catholics a little less

[2twopiid]

ii mean viirtwoal and word2 that rhyme are A LIITTLE biit of a 2tretch, but iit work2 for empha2ii2 and probably better iin certaiin context2.

con2tiitwotiion and iintwoiitiion, however.