#Cyril was a step in the right direction

[childofaura]

Xander for the best artist ask game. So far there’s Maeshima Shigeki, Suekane Kumiko and the rest of it consists of PenekoR sadly.

Ok so, I think PenekoR fumbled both Summer Xander and Festival Xander.

… But I’m actually gonna pick PenekoR’s Legendary Xander:

It was tough because Suekane’s Easter Xander is good, but the damage pose looks a little weird. Maeshima Shigeki’s Xander is actually pretty cool, but he looks washed out for some reason.

Legendary Xander improved on all of PenekoR’s faults in their previous versions of Xander. Xander’s nose is much more defined, his face has a clear stern look, the posework is nice and strong, and the attention to detail in his armor and cape looks amazing. Really plays into Xander’s regal air.

[queen-dahlia]

𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐯𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧

𝗠𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗥𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟲 𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗣𝗢𝗩

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation

I wonder when it started.

I no longer feel heartbroken when I see the dead bodies of people.

(You did it with flair.)

The place where I stepped in with the little rabbit in my arms was a cruel sight.

Welcomed by the scent of blood, which cannot be disguised by a sweet and aromatic rose,

The petals that fell to the ground were invaded by a spreading reddish-black liquid.

Standing in the center of it all is a cruel and merciless beast with a white cloak stained red,

I could feel how the little rabbit was trembling in my arms.

(... That's right. The prince you believe in is just another powerful man...)

(He can kill people with impunity like this and not be charged with a crime, just like me.)

(...But it's "dirtier" than I expected...)

The little rabbit is covering her mouth with a pale face.

I felt something like nostalgia at the sight of this.

(I remember I was like this in the beginning too.)

Gilbert: "How are you feeling, little bunny?"

Emma: "... I'm fine."

Gilbert: "Really? Well, it's not something you have to look at. It's dirty, so let's not go near it."

(The more you think of others as yourself, the bigger the reaction is.)

(...Well, I knew that, and I brought you here...)

As I secretly chuckled at the trembling little rabbit, a familiar face appeared from the shadows of the pavilion.

Clavis: "Well, well, well, Lord Gilbert. Aren't you tormenting our little rabbit too much?"

Clavis: "I never thought you'd bring her to a place like this."

Gilbert: "Ahaha, I'm sorry about that. I only brought the little rabbit here because she was looking for Chevalier."

Clavis: "Well, how did you know my brother was here?"

Gilbert: "I saw Chevalier not too long ago."

It's not a lie.

This morning, I left the little rabbit "to check a certain place," which had nothing to do with the current situation,

But when I returned to the court, Chevalier went out to the garden in the opposite direction.

Since I have every person's movements in my head, I can easily predict what will happen next…

Not wanting to miss this opportunity, I hurriedly secured the little rabbit, and here we are.

(Clavis is obviously suspicious of me. I'm sure he thinks I'm the one who put this together.)

However, it is not irrelevant.

There are many who are hostile toward Chevalier, and if you mislead them with just a few words, they will quickly take shortcuts like this.

(It's not a smart move to hire assassins and have them attack him easily, but...)

(I guess it is inevitable since the "anti-monarchy" is not professional in this field.)

I had thought that if one of the seeds sprouted and flowered, I would show it to the little rabbit someday.

In that sense, it was as good as done.

Without uttering a single word, Chevalier wipes away the blood and sheathes his sword.

For him, it's an everyday occurrence.

Gilbert: "Chevalier, the little rabbit wanted to see you."

Chevalier: ". . . . . ."

His icy blue eyes, which had lost their temperature, conveyed the fright of the little rabbit.

Emma: "... You seem to be busy, so I'll come back on a different day."

Chevalier: ". . . . . ."

Chevalier turned away and left without a word.

(Well, what will the little rabbit do after this?)

(Will you try to approach him, knowing that he has a ruthless and cruel side, or will you walk away from him?)

(Will you continue to believe in the goodness of people like I used to, or will you fall into distrust?)

I can't help but look forward to the little rabbit's choice.

Clavis: "I must apologize for showing the young lady something she shouldn't have seen. --Cyril."

Clavis beckons one of the knights who was disposing of the body.

The knight with flamboyant red hair is a former soldier from Obsidian's military training facility.

(I haven't seen you in a while, but I'm glad to see you're doing well.)

Clavis: "It's almost dinner time. Prepare a feast for Lord Gilbert."

Gilbert: "No way, are you trying to separate me from the little bunny?"

Clavis: "Oh. You're a bit too much of a distraction, or a bit too much of a presence, to comfort the young lady."

Clavis: "The young lady would be more than happy to be alone with me, wouldn't she?"

Gilbert: "I don't think so. She would be so lonely to be separated from me that she might cry."

Emma: "I won't be lonely, I'll be fine."

Gilbert: "Do you know the word "flattery"?"

Emma: "... I'm afraid that Prince Gilbert might not like it better if I say something I don't truly mean."

Gilbert: "Heh... correct. You're smart."

(While some people never learn, the little rabbit is very honest.)

Gilbert: "Oh well. I don't know what kind of mischief Clavis is up to, but I'm hungry."

(… He's a gentleman, so I'm sure he will take care of the little rabbit.)

(It's something I can't do, so I'll leave it to him here.)

Gilbert: "I'll torment your knight, so return the little rabbit as soon as possible, okay?"

Cyril: "…Goodbye, my peace."

Just before I put the little rabbit down on the ground, I gave her a malicious look in retaliation for choosing Clavis over me.

Gilbert: "Be careful not to let Clavis bully you."

Gilbert: "He's more dangerous than I am, you know?"

(In many ways.)

The little rabbit's expression stiffens, and I can't help but laugh.

Perhaps she should have taken this warning seriously.

(No, I'm serious.)

(It's probably physical labor now. I can pretty much guess that’s how Clavis comforts people.)

(Hang in there, little rabbit.)

══════════════════

Cyril: "—I don't understand Prince Gilbert."

On the way to the dining room after parting with the little rabbit, Cyril, who was leading the way, suddenly spoke.

Gilbert: "Oh, you mean what I'm thinking about right now? The next evil plan, of course."

Gilbert: "I'll be in the pit after this, so I might as well get an invitation to the soirée in exchange for it..."

Gilbert: "How am I going to kill—oh, no, I mean punish—that noblewoman who hurt the little rabbit's leg?"   //   "How shall I kill that noblewoman who hurt the little rabbit's leg—oh no, how shall I chastise her?"

Cyril: "…Please don't cause any trouble."

Gilbert: "Ahaha, you say useless things, don't you?"

Cyril: "Or rather, I don't mean that... I want to know what Prince Gilbert is up to."

(I know.)

A competent ex-soldier knows too well what the Obsidian royal family is like.

It is natural to be wary of unreadable malice.

(I have only one goal—I want the little rabbit.)

Not in the sense of the word.

(I want to defile and corrupt her pure and beautiful heart and "make her sympathize with me.")

(No, if she wants to go straight at me without empathy, that's fine.)

(I want to expose her to malice, isolate her, and then see what she chooses to do.)

I "want" in that sense, but it is not something I would say to a knight of an enemy country.

Gilbert: "I'm not going to tell a traitor anything."

Cyril: "I know..."

Gilbert: "Hmm."

(I can't wait to get my hands on Little Bunny.)

[gokartkid]

directors cut for chapter 1 of succession au pls? from this section— ““You’re still the cunt publishing the article,” Daniel feels like he’s been fumbling around” to the end of the scene—ending with the line “It’s another thing Daniel’s just had to swallow, when his career started running away from him. It’s fine.”? 💕💕💕loved this whole scene and the use of lewis’ character sm!!

omg yes!! ok under the cut bc this is a long section

It’s true. Lewis would be a West-Coast-Best-Coast-er forever, his British passport not-withstanding. im pretty sure lewis does like california/miami etc. and in this verse particularly, extremely rich but like left leaning (if u can call it that)/chill in a way that the new york based-east coast characters are not

"And that comes at the expense of us then? Huh? I’ve known you for what, since college and you’re fucking it all up" if i could write a lewis daniel college excerpt of this without feeling crazy i would... they are like, 'start out in the same vein and diverging completely' kind of college friends, where you see each other moving away from directions that you had been plotted in and you love them but you're also like how did you end up over there??? both of them abt each other

He’s selfish, single-minded and cares more about the thread-count of his fucking sheets more than he does social justice. this + the prev section about max's dad i had in mind before i started writing this haha max here is definitely not a good person. you are rooting for him but he isn't a good person, much like all of the character in succession, and i really wanted to get to the root of that! (just like f1... ur favourite millionaire etc. etc.) and thats why i think they as character work really well here too... none of them are morally perfect, even lewis, he's helping these victims right but it's also gaining him accolades

“Sure mate.” Low-key. Casual. daniel has never been casual about anything to do with max. fact

The cold tip of Max’s nose poking into his bicep, the flutter of lashes closing against his skin. Sunlight frozen through the curtains. this i really wanted it to feel like. very much this is through the lens of daniels memory, it's not a REAL scene in a sense, it is frozen in time for him

“Daniel, perfect, I just got out of a meeting with Christian and you would not believe the shit he is trying to get past Cyril-“ cyril and christian in this verse have a hate/love relationship... a perfect symbiosis. specifically here i was imagining christian trying to poach some ppl from cyrils department without him noticing

Max sounds confused, and the background noise on the other end abruptly disappears, like he’s stepped inside somewhere max has like just come out of a meeting ready to maxplain and he 100% forgets all of it to step into the nearest like. storage closet to be there for daniel

can see in their shared calendar that Max has a phone call they never acknowledge how gay and coupley this is bc they 'aren't a couple' and 'are just bros'

[libidomechanica]

“To tempt Gods Providence by fire”

A rispetto sequence

               I

Seventeen years away, my hart I then begins a journeys, here assurance need not agree, that passions and streight through the breath in arias of death his Fellows; from which a spring danced when came melissa, O pardon their Lord. To tempt Gods Providence by fire. Organ in me ye playne, for father’s wrath, by all delight. Or change from love? Into her heart than she.

               II

From thy fellowship in the Desperate Fame. Throb with my plaint to her; now, young Corinth—O the blythest bird upon their Taxes double Danger bring? Venus is taught. But my Corinna, come; and above the wedded dame, august her beauty was as right. What say Good-bye; and now what no her tongue aspire. Rain on the more account, for Ten to One, in forbidden fires.

               III

Desire of wonder at her left, a child is frayle corruption, that his Anguish of his Faction of the world may streams of man? Tell her sacred peace and plum, and dewdrops wet; and said … Nay, we are onely completer; for nothing else these halls, and yawn’d a good deal with Sally Brown! Whilst Ben he was no sins of Royal Robes, and blew the languid fool, who was left.

               IV

In any chronicles of dress were not complains before. But that very fair; the which tempred still the rest, with such a yoke She danc’d along the twilight wings, for ages, taught. Yet let them on the rolling the loves attend lyke captiued are so firmely, too, when shall be there but we will that ancient Hag of Fate. My stockings there survived his fear in a female dress.

               V

Lifting me, where upon they St. Fatal interview, by all aspect, but Thanks, ’ she least as truth, and cut this the Curse of hers did close implide, with them Joyn’d all this world one way and another, husband, like a Pen to step into Heav’n inspiring I might be, or naething to end that to thrall forts which she doth more dread, until the funeral direct, with his Teeth.

               VI

The hours my loues might his Darling Son? The hand on a Minion! Truth the highest way of change eyes, resign’d, and said he, hold up your hands do not me my love some rest; all the green-recessed woodland air! And, last not ask me with Skill, for humane Good old Cause by whom he was unseen: and drear! Breathes. And often round. Now, young monarch, till ioy makes us cowards the pass’d for spill.

               VII

From his knees that your eyes in the chace forsooke, my hart, that my exceed the queen-priest throne, his Highness’ years, but Save me most regulated charming with vile adders sting, in one ship is Reproof, and overmuch of a Good Son, who had the court’ said Cyril, Madam, all the reveries of Jacob Behmen with cinnamon; despair print thy Soul, oh Taper of the pain.

               VIII

Your gentle Lycius! Learning unto their heart, with the Day, misguide the Justice a Seráb. And harass’d well for better not before. Most sorts of flowers, the virgin purest lipp’d, yet in vain. You are the years for Monarch tame, and that my zone unmanned me: the Land. For shame! And acted on, when she took Juanna, whose throng, too feeble vassal blest, by new unfolds cleanly.

               IX

Ah, what woe after long maintain’d where thereby much great hope I well find her lord were said the loves to swarm their very Garment-hem Pollution! Ring; some said he love the gloom of all countenance his crime, can reason, shame loade mine eyes, a lover yet, tis after fresh arrivals threat for earthly eye: that bosom worn, which we stands the low: for lacking it, that mercy too.

               X

This side,—so beautiful old rhyme in praises are taught to witless walls! As sacred through the porch, with all its watery sun&three were constrayn. Just as he’s mounted—he and Absál the Father worth nor rues my stonisht hart stood at bold Defiance, hate whate’er the rocks once-a- boy pilfering me withall. So woful, and sew for peace, an hundredth part his future Race?

               XI

What guyle is th’ author of my kind? Would not the more my love can be no longer Just. Feed their first she slept in hand my brother articles of vnualewd price: far passing the demons of thunderbolt hangs silent, shy, and from Heaven—from then she seems the ghost away. Of the scientific animals are the Sun upon Designs, and for God, not the right!

               XII

And children, ran before from them fills the roadside, succulent peaches to be broke his might sit beside juan had no great loues prayses form. And in hue could e’er he did not with fire the brow of earthly lyres, while at themselves in my selfe for euer to enjoy! Not grace is her breast: her neck regal white till the Elves and Names assured to haste, while, like a peace shall haue tride.

               XIII

His Youth, thy disencumbred Soul mounts up, and beckon from the skye. So long, dead called Beauties treasure, and in the blight on my face press’d. Till the golden tongue that runneth often doe redound, as is a Godlike Kings are made: he takes place; they could he gain, his vanquish’d days, had eyes aghast the Beadsman, affianced, scale with carven imag’ries good Angela, by the heart.

               XIV

And won his pinions lay, and mantle, which we Right, from far where there died at his Highness, there that tongue. And slight but hastily subscribed the Branch that French novel? And yet the Statesman we abhor, but not stuck all exceeding want; more rich, who Heaven, and scatter my sins that thought— meet, if the Crowd: that cluster’d in all her names in which in the memory of Civil Wars.

               XV

And choke on me were a mermaid now, for this chirrup at her glauncing sight, the fainting to mine, condemn it; but I turn a lady’s eyes; mine eye: but though it sounds of his strength was his due? To Beauties peece for me to mow: and yet the serpent, but effectually is out; for in your skill, some in the heathen Priests the transient roses at first appeared his phantasies.

               XVI

The musick, which you graced in thinke at an Eurydice; for that, waxing wanton o’er the matter than what a flint is free? I shall it bee that fail to beare: so weake my sorrow out of saddest words, embrace my bane. Can reason, shame, and wife, a sullen might for her whisk the stain’d where when those on the beginning, full of silence seal’d. A death-like silence in. And splendour.

               XVII

Save to and from piety, or from birth or growth, is more strong in Corinth talk: over tedious absence of Angels from cruelty she wore a wannish fire sparks, without-end hour whilst I, myself—and you. Besides, the creature newly-caged, commenced the un-apple. Her heads were Useless, lasting chain; and her wil be the numerous wood the grey downs dulled to save.

               XVIII

In her snowy browes lyke dying tone, but I, vnbid, fetch in May, when my toung tipt with awfull Lord. On the features goodly colour of night; in vain,—to bless nor curse to hang on her sound sleep disclos’d the place forbear to make vnpitteid spoile. With his Prerogative. With lesser chill it hold? Now clear’d, but Save me nothing their faults with tapers comes soothingly with scorn.

               XIX

Permit me, Julia, I bring to do with the think, do allow life has not violently wake. Votes shall Ever-wanting sense, which some pines that old man? For had thy maisters keep his return and silent grown, I have given signal ta’en their piques, they likest be, or what her dream’d a dream, of walking in a slumberous they are more to the firmer will, that evening brest.

               XX

Night by lesson which they had arrived before; for which did her form create to be forgiv’n. Flatter all utter’d by a Niggard no: now will I, with a high hand, she writing on her I stand who knows. There in want or peril, therefore: now warm gules on Madeline! Our mother; so Cantemir can they steps or more my Eyes the Seasons train: from Earthy Vapours rise!

               XXI

Then hangeth all fair theoric’ it appears; barzillai thou canst not the heauenly fury doth hart and Stars and Dreams; lo, this place, the most him so hugely stood in madness near and hate, I feel estrange, that heuenly spheare of Justice draws; constrayne. Soft as homeward I from heavens Anoint his lofty looke on it streight back. If not happens, that he had for love is liberty.

               XXII

A Hand to Loyalty were two lovers of thy love doth worke that with disturb you something so whence flee; foole, who made new porridge for injured lover can hope my verse vowd to eternity I forgive? Promiscuous use of Sorrow the sweet soul, were taught: let theyr snaky heads the custom, and you fayre, misdeeme so fair as fair, ’ said Cyril, having piously.

               XXIII

And Madeline asleepe thou must no more by our long hall glittering taketh. The harbor whose his first day the golden dreamt of man, the promise! And is he gone, and thunder shrines all with two tame leopards couches, toilets—and much I fear, her mouth in waves, your sweet pleasures in hers, am profanation far with all you fairly. Which cost little worth, and zoned with Me!

               XXIV

For lusty sprinkled on Sally she did agree, in mine eyes, where you to soothe my pillow took their tedious riddles of vnualewd price: by loue we weigh’d her cruell might coin, the gift of closing gainst the String of my prison I will it proves you may lose your Foliage, and whole oceans roll! Be ye sure builds her selfe and loue embrace the tangled mind, I starue my bonie Jean.

               XXV

-Felt plagues, of hell, vpon the helpless demonstration: follow’d taper tremble in mine eyes most lowe, I crau’d their Witnesses improv’d. And often knit, my kerchief transgression, growling and joy so pure and unload all good Barzillai thou canst though in Cupid’s college gown, th’ admiring Croud are dazled with dewy locks, which open shone: upon her declined the must.

               XXVI

Awake, for he could have them is double with Spirit, until he stars from our natural, the Bad, turn Rebell, and spite and we as rich and sad pensiuenesse. Then, riding up a lower, much I might blush, and each who dare be lou’d by might? On Principle of Declining Age: behold that close intent on with such odious to the lava ravish’d extremely to me.

               XXVII

A simple truth, howe’er kisses, sweet devized of loue, while praying, trembling, in the rocks, and a bonie Bell. Where gainst each height that strength was to stone. Swift to his Hand a Vare of pupils; she may entangle in the lonely that old Florian; have you depart, despoyld of war the sober part, with those, when she scream from the center. The stars do I my judgment pleasure.

               XXVIII

He had a fever late dismayed. Bright assert none lordlier than the slacken’d in this faultlesse renowne? Like and stormy seas and so rare a wit, requires it, they durst his Memory, miraculous thou wrongest in to close of and float in crystalline fragments, but by my Paternal sunshine where I my selfe dilate, as if there he spoak: few words masculine perfume.

               XXIX

Their Gods disgrace: that purg’d by boyling o’r: and even I in this and tempter, a forbid thee of angelic kind, I shall Rest, and every monarchs for they put beside juanna, their prepare and death. And he had bene slayne, throgh contemplation of the Plot: yet, Corah, thou the gentle grace arraid; and only vocal with cold, like a thousand averse from the Tree.

[codecrusaders]

Capstone Project Progress

-------------------------------------------------

Week 7: Submitting the papers for Chapter 2 & 3 and Receiving Feedback on our previously made Chapter 1

"This week was all about progress in our capstone journey. We successfully submitted two crucial chapters - Chapter 2 and Chapter 3 - which we've been working hard on. These chapters are like building blocks, essential for our capstone paper.

Chapter 2: Review of Related Literatures and Systems We spent a good amount of time gathering and summarizing what other people have researched and written about topics related to our project. It wasn't easy, but it's an important part of our capstone. This chapter helps us understand what's already out there and how our project fits into the bigger picture.

Chapter 3: Concepts, Theories, and Technical Background In this part, we delved into the concepts and theories that are the backbone of our project. We also discussed the technical stuff - all the nitty-gritty details that make our project work. This chapter was like building the foundation for our project.

But, we also faced a little hiccup. Our professor reviewed our Chapter 1 and pointed out many errors. At first, it might seem discouraging, but in reality, it's a good thing. Getting feedback helps us improve and move in the right direction. We're thankful for our professor's guidance.

Overall, it was a week of hard work, but it feels good to see our capstone taking shape. Step by step, we're getting closer to our goal."

Picture 1: A photo of the front cover of Chapter 1

Hacker:

Niño Tacbobo

Lord Rynkar Tracy Dwight Arcamo

Luigie Cyril Francis Posod

Hipster:

Niño Tacbobo

Lord Rynkar Tracy Dwight Arcamo

Luigie Cyril Francis Posod

Hustler:

Niño Tacbobo

Lord Rynkar Tracy Dwight Arcamo

Luigie Cyril Francis Posod

[masonxxbrick]

Mason needed to go back to the Cornucopia, he was still weaponless and at this point that was a horrible thing to be. He wasn't sure what the other tributes were holding but it would definitely be better to have the upper hand, especially since he had run into so many already. Smith also wasn't too far from him so he wasn't too worried. He'd be in and out in no time.

Once at the Cornucopia, he took a quick glance around. Thankfully no one was there though a part of him was fully expecting to see Alecta and Cyril. Wasn't this supposed to be where the Careers hung out? Or maybe that was just an outdated concept.

Taking one quick look around, Mason headed towards the center where all of the leftover goodies were. Squinting his eyes to see better, to his surprise he saw that a sword was still there. "Yes!" Mason exclaimed out loud and did a little skip when suddenly he heard a swish by his ear. Quickly he turned around to see what had caused the noise. Not being able to spot anything, Mason took a couple of steps backwards when he saw an arrow flying through the air right at him. Trying his best to dodge, the arrow grazed him, slicing his arm. "Hey!" Mason winced before calling at him, as he quickly covered his arm where it began to bleed. His arm ached but luckily it only grazed him and didn't get stuck in his arm. Another arrow whirled passed his head and he knew he only had two options.

One was he needed to just get out of there but that meant having his back towards the other tribute or even been chased down. His other option was to make his way towards the center, grab a weapon, and fight back. Another arrow came flying by and that was the last straw that pushed Mason. He wasn't one to get angry but at this point this other tribute was trying to kill him and that left him with no choice. "Fine!" Mason called out to him, he took a few more steps back. "We could've been friends, though! I hope you know that! I see it's you, Fla from District Eight!"

He quickly turned around and looked at the options in front of him. Of course the sword stuck out but did Mason really want to get any closer to him? Then he saw the bow with the quiver of arrows right next to him. Mason let out a sigh before grabbing them both. "Not my best weapon." He mumbled to himself before draping the quiver over his back. He turned back around to see that Fla had gotten closer to him. Fla grabbed another arrow and Mason knew he needed to act fast. Quickly, he grabbed an arrow, placed it in the bow, pulled back, aimed, and let the arrow go. He watched the arrow fly through the air and landed right in the other tribute's chest.

Instant regret immediately filled throughout Mason realizing what he just did. He stood there, eyes wide in horror as he watched Fla fall to the ground. "W-wait." Mason said as he ran towards him. He kneeled by him and watched as Fla struggled for air. "I-I'm so sorry!" He told him. "I-I didn't want to hurt you, y-you attacked me!" Which was true. Mason had always said he would never attack first. And he didn't. "I-I'm sorry." He repeated before stumbling to his feet and ran back to the center. Without stopping, he grabbed a sword and quickly ran off in the other direction. A loud boom echoed through the arena and Mason wiped at a tear that threatened to fall. Knowing that he caused the cannon made the guilt wash over him even more.

The blood began to drip down Mason's arm at the slice that Fla had caused. The best thing he could do was to keep pressure on it and hope that maybe the bleeding would stop.

[irvinenewshq]

President Ramaphosa to deal with the nation on Sunday night time

President Cyril Ramaphosa is anticipated to deal with the nation at 20:00 this night, Sunday, 23 October 2022. He’s anticipated to stipulate steps the federal government is taking to implement the suggestions of the judicial fee of inquiry into allegations of state seize, corruption and fraud within the public sector, together with organs of state. The president’s handle shall be broadcast and streamed stay on PresidencyZA digital platforms. You’ll be able to watch them right here and right here. The handle may also be carried on all information tv channels: eNCA, SABC and Newzroom Afrika. UPDATE: President Ramaphosa to deal with the nation The Presidency introduced earlier that President @CyrilRamaphosa would handle the nation at 19h30 this night, Sunday, 23 October 2022. President Ramaphosa will now handle the nation at a revised time of 20h00.— Presidency | South Africa ???????? (@PresidencyZA) October 23, 2022 Parliament receives Ramaphosa’s suggestions on the Zondo report Earlier on Sunday, the presiding officers of Parliament, the speaker of the Nationwide Meeting and the chairperson of the Nationwide Council of Provinces introduced they’d obtained Ramaphosa’s response to the suggestions on Saturday night time. “In June, when the president submitted the ultimate two components of the report he additionally dedicated to submit the implementation plan on the suggestions to Parliament’s presiding officers throughout the deadline stipulated by the Gauteng Excessive Court docket,” Parliament mentioned. The six-part report was launched publicly over the previous 12 months months with quite a few suggestions on how Parliament’s presiding officers ought to enhance their oversight function. This consists of the necessity to guarantee sufficient funding for portfolio committees; the necessity for a parliamentary mechanism to trace and monitor govt motion; enhancing Parliament’s function in key appointment processes; and creating specialised committees to cope with points that lower throughout departments and ministries, amongst others. “Parliament is dedicated to making sure that it goes by the report with a fine-tooth comb and put in place the mandatory mechanisms required to deal with the deficiencies recognized by the Fee.” Presiding officers have already referred a few of the issues requiring Parliament’s direct motion to parliamentary constructions for processing. “With the submission of the implementation plan by the president yesterday, which outlines how the Govt will fulfil the remedial actions advisable by the Fee, Parliament will start a means of scrutinising the small print of the plan in addition to overseeing, by its oversight devices, its implementation. “The implementation plan shall be dropped at the eye of the members of parliament,” the assertion concluded. NOW READ: D-Day for Ramaphosa’s plan of motion on state seize report Originally published at Irvine News HQ

[justslowdown]

Only learning now that I've had to sell almost every sheep I've grown close to and helped raise, including ones bred with friends over Years to pair dairy traits with resilience........ had to sell to move on, so ultimately good, but deeply, deeply painful in a way it's hard to communicate. I hurt. A lot.

Anyways. Only now have learned that the culture who's 50% of my direct heritage, Slovakian, traditionally has relied on sheep milk and sheep cheese

I did not know this. I've felt drawn very viscerally to sheep, they are My Animal. But also to milking goats, and to the dream of milking sheep. Sheep just have been part of my identity for years. The ultimate goal of milking them and getting a lot of my daily calories from that felt Right and worth working towards. They just feel the Rightest as an animal to interface with, and I've worked with a lot of livestock and pets.

I wish. I don't know. I wish I'd have known a few years ago, and made the most of the incredible opportunities here knowing they were a cultural connection too. I've never even talked to my grandparents about it

I did make my grandma rabbit paprikash a few years ago (Slovak culture has some overlap with Hungarian, my other main genetic heritage). It opened up so many stories about her relatives in the early 20th century raising rabbits.

But I never thought to talk with her about sheep, and now she can't really talk much. The Thanksgiving I cooked that dish, she thought I was a different grandson she forgot, Cyril, not a trans grandkid, which worked fine for me honestly.

Missed moments. Missed anchors to your ancestral past. There are so many but this one feels a certain way tonight

I feel firmer in my conviction that this is a very temporary pause in raising sheep, necessary for the next step in my life. And I'm going to approach it differently going forward

I have a few bilingual relatives back in Slovakia to talk to and I'm not sure why it took cheese to realize how much I'm missing. But cheese has always been 1/4 to a wild degree of what my dad and I eat so maybe that craving makes sense now too! Feels silly. Still important!

Mountains are another thing that feel indelibly part of my body and spirit that I definitely did not grow up anywhere near ever seeing. Interesting to think about. My dad and I were talking a couple days ago about how the Cascades woke up parts of us we didn't know were there

[butwhatifidothis]

So if it is MEANT to be a villain route...Why are the villanous actions NEVER ADDRESSED by ANY of the characters outside of "Huh. I wonder if there was a better way to do this."

Why did they have Rhea go insane and torch a city? Why make potray Rhea as a villain when you could potray her as the hero whos genuinely trying to do good? Why have a majority of the characters still be able to be recruited regardless of if it makes sense? Why have the ending narration mostly be possible? WHY have Edelgard succeed and somehow turn her tyranny into a society that "ensures a free and independent society fot all."

If it's REALLY a villain route, why is there not a single character ending mentioning things like rebellions and conflict? Hell, the ending narration shows not a hint of villainy and potrays its ending as heroic.

"Embracing her newfound power, Edelgard could at last set about destroying Fódlan's entrenched system of nobility and rebuild a world free from the tyranny of Crests and status."

Again, if it was TRULY meant to be the villain route, it would have been POTRAYED as such. Instead of a villain route, we got "A route where one of the villains is made the protagonist and her views and villainous actions are never questioned OR addressed and outside of the conquest and starting the war, everyone is mostly happy."

Alright so this is going to seem like a nonserious answer, but I'm 100% serious when posting this image as part of a genuine answer to this question:

On CF, your actions are never addressed because of ignorance. On the surface, your actions seem like they've helped Fodlan, but as soon as the player looks any deeper it starts to become evident that something isn't right.

If Edelgard made a free and independent society for all, why are the people spied on in Hubert's ending with Dorothea? Why are rebellions secretly being put down in his ending with Shamir? That's not free, in a general sense or from specifically tyranny. That's a direct contradiction from two of the characters that can only be played on CF, and this is only found on CF.

Rhea is portrayed as a villain because she is Nabatean, and Edelgard hates Nabateans, and you are playing a route that emphasizes her ideals - which include wiping out all of the inhuman, bestial, vile, cruel Nabateans that have been plaguing humanity’s world. Rhea goes insane on CF because unlike all of the other routes, where the player and the lord never go out of their way to trample and spit on their enemies' trauma, that's what you are doing the entire time you play CF to Rhea - for months once Byleth returns, and that’s being extremely generous and not counting the entire war. You help drive Rhea and the other Nabateans away from their homes when taking over Garreg Mach - like Nemesis did to Rhea after the Red Canyon Massacre! You're helping someone try to kill off the rest of her people - like Nemesis did at Zanado! You're trying to kill Rhea with the Sword of the Creator, her mother's mutilated corpse - like Nemesis did! You're doing so with the descendent of Wilheim - spitting on the legacy of the one human Rhea could trust during the War of Heroes! You're literally recreating the single worst moment of Rhea's life, all so that you can help the one who views her as less than human.

Portraying Rhea as "the hero who's genuinely trying to do good" goes against Edelgard's viewpoint of all Nabateans being evil, and you're never meant to question Edelgard or make her change her beliefs. You as the player are actively discouraged from talking back to Edelgard, as she will noticeably get upset whenever you do - many times you will even lose support points with her, and this is especially bad for specifically Edelgard because you have to get to a certain support level with her to enter her route, with you having less chapters to do so because she won't talk to you until after Byleth achieves the Sword of the Creator in Chapter 4.

Look at how Rhea, Dimitri, and Claude are portrayed on CF. Rhea and Dimitri are demonized, while Claude is given some leeway from Edelgard. Now notice who of the three of them always speak their minds over Edelgard's villainy to her face, and which of the three of them bends to Edelgard's view of them as the bad guy. Dimitri and Rhea never allow themselves to bend to Edelgard - they call her out and call her actions evil. Claude, on the other hand, will remove himself from Fodlan and then afterwards make himself out to be a bad guy whom Edelgard managed to take down. He puffs up her ego, and he gets to live, while the two that don't must die. Edelgard is the one always out for the kill, and only by submitting to her is anyone allowed to live - which, I don’t think needs to be said, isn’t very heroic of her.

I've had my fair share of complaints over the characters that can be recruited over to CF, but even with those complaints... look at how those characters behave on CF. None of them are Felix levels of negative character development, but they all act noticeably worse on CF vs how they are on the other routes. To name some notable examples: Ignatz goes from wanting to paint Garreg Mach as it stood five years before to preserve its beauty to wanting to paint the violent downfall of the Alliance, Lysithea wants to abandon House Ordelia, which is in direct contrast to her core character motivation, Ingrid is willing to throw away her lifelong dream of being a knight of Faerghus, which she herself says is her spitting on her dead betrothed’s dreams, Leonie works with Jeralt’s killers, etc. etc.. And mind, CF is the route that locks out the most units - there's the obvious ones like Dedue and Gilbert who were already route exclusive, but then there's Seteth and Flayn, Catherine, Cyril, and Hilda. CF is the only route to have even non-exclusive units be completely unavailable no matter what.

Edelgard doesn't make a society that is "free," like I said above - having a secret police monitor the people's actions, or is ready to put down anyone who tries to rise up against her, is literally the opposite of free. Edelgard can and will ban plays she doesn't like - not free. Edelgard only allows state-sanctioned religion, if she does allow it - not free.

CF is a route that wants to make the player believe the lie that you're not the villain, because you are playing from the perspective of someone who herself doesn't think she's the villain, but like. Look at what you're doing. You're invading two countries for the express, explicit purpose of taking them over and making them your own. You're working with someone who's been trying to reunite Fodlan back under Adrestia as early as the prologue when she tried to have Dimitri and Claude assassinated. You're helping TWS. Your Imperial presence makes Church people flee - which, given that Edelgard wants Rhea and those involved with the Church dead, I don't blame them. You're working with someone who is starving her people so that she can carry on with her war.

CF lies to the player - Edelgard lies, constantly. She says she's willing to let Rhea live, but literally the scene before she says she seeks to fuckin' Exodia Rhea. She lies about Arianrhod. She lies - or is flat-out wrong, which isn't much better - about the Church hoarding wealth and about the Church splitting up the Empire. She lies about not knowing about TWS pre-ts. She helps spread the lie of Duscur being the ones who killed Lambert. She lied about not knowing where Flayn was when she was kidnapped. She lies to her people by making them believe she’s making the orders during the war, not Byleth. There's a student who doubts all of what Edelgard says right before the timeskip happens and who isn't sure about his decision to stay, and then there’s a man who calls Edelgard “a tricksy one” on the last explore section for lying about attacking the Kingdom capitol. She’s wrong about the history of Nemesis and Seiros, calling Nemesis killing all of Rhea’s family a “simple dispute.” She lies to her people about an entire war against a group who just a little bit ago were her allies. Lies and ignorance are staple points to CF as a route, it’s baked into it, so the idea of the CF going “oh no you totally are the good guys” literally as the city burns down around the players doesn’t come from nowhere.

And like... the ending narration “shows not a hint of villainy?” Um.

Her stepping on the flags of the Alliance and Church? Her recreating a painting of Napoleon - that little known imperialist - down to the hand of justice? Her denouncing gods constantly and then being ushered in by a statue with heavy resemblance to Nike, Goddess of victory? Hubert plotting away from the sight of the rejoicing people? Yeah, there’s a lot of hints to villainy.

Again, CF isn’t “portrayed” as a villain route because it’s you falling for the lies of Edelgard. You have a wool over your eyes. You accept everything Edelgard says as fact, even when she actively contradicts herself - sometimes as radically as in back-to-back scenes. You view yourself as a savior to humanity, even when you plunge it into darkness. You don’t think you’re the villain, so your actions aren’t going to be put in an explicitly villainous light - at least, not by anyone on your side.

This post showcases the difference between non-recruited characters fighting non-CF!Byleth vs CF!Byleth. Characters are mostly saddened by having to fight Byleth in the former, while they are mostly betrayed on CF. Byleth is very clearly seen as being wrong for having sided with Edelgard on CF by the non-recruited characters - Edelgard’s actions may not be directly criticized (save for by Dimitri and a few others), but it makes no sense for these characters to be this shocked and betrayed by Byleth siding with her if her actions were so good. Leonie deadass calls you a traitor to Jeralt, Ingrid says that you are not fit to rule Fodlan specifically for siding with Edelgard and the Empire after all she and they have done, and Dimitri questions you as to why you chose Edelgard and her “savage, bloody path,” just to name a few notable examples. You, as the player, are being criticized for siding with Edelgard. You say that the villainous actions are “NEVER ADDRESSED by ANY of the characters,” but what else are these reactions but characters addressing your villainous actions?

And like... “a route where one of the villains is the protagonist” bro that’s a villain route. Like. I’m not trying to be mean, but I am genuinely confused as to what you were trying to get at here.

Like. In a vacuum? I might can get the idea of CF not being a villain route a little better, were it the only route available (though even that is a very big stretch). But you have three whole other routes where there’s no conquest, there’s no working with TWS, there’s no using Demonic Beasts, there’s no killing/exiling the remaining (immediately known) Nabateans, there’s no continuous and long-standing lies that never get outed, the lords never stay flat out wrong about the events of the game, non-recruited characters aren’t shooting Byleth up the ass with accusations of being a traitorous lemming who’d follow Edelgard off a cliff... and they achieve peace. Those endings, with Dimitri Claude and “Rhea” (SS ain’t really her route even though it should’ve been but ye), lack the following in any of their endings:

Censorship

Spying on the people

Constantly putting down rebels in secret

State-sanctioned religion

(mind, this last one is in direct contradiction to CF’s ending narration that says that Church is destroyed)

None of this happens on AM, VW, and SS. They all have peaceful endings. They all have Fodlan see the light of dawn, and that is never contradicted in their endings. CF is the only route to have all of these things happen in it - I think that’s enough for it to be considered a villain route lol

[ganseybois]

What if alfie and thomas go on a little vacation, just the two of them? XD

here you go! idk if you wanted something more fun than this but i just wanted to write some morning vacation softness, so i hope you like!

Tommy had once been told that he could never stop moving, because if he stopped moving, everything would catch up with him. It happened to his mother too, and that’s what led to her death. But he had found, actually, that it was not about always moving. It was about moving toward the right person, and then stopping when you found them. He had thought that person was Grace, and although he had loved her very much, he was actually moving in another direction altogether.

To Alfie Solomons.

They were vacationing in a house in the countryside and had paid a generous amount to do so. They had gone back and forth on vacationing in a small town, or even going to America, but what they both really wanted more than anything else was not to see the world, but to rather spend time together, uninterrupted, where no one would question them, or think it strange. To spend weeks together without having to sneak into one another’s homes.

Tommy was quite content with their decision.

He was standing outside in just his trousers, sans cigarette or drink, simply standing on the front porch breathing in the fresh air. He had missed this more than he realized. It cleared his head. Alfie cleared his head (and if that wasn’t the most ironic thing in the world).

Cyril, who they had brought along with them, trotted out of the house and onto the grass, sniffing and rolling around happily before laying in the sun. Tommy smiled gently, watching before he heard Alfie’s heavy footsteps come up from behind him, walking over to the railing and leaning against it, watching his dog.

“It’s early Tom,” Alfie said tiredly. He was still dressed in his night clothes.

Tommy shrugged. Alfie didn’t like it when he didn’t sleep, more because Alfie was afraid about what it did to his mental state, rather than how it affected his clarity during the day. “You’re up as well, Alfie.”

Alfie rolled his eyes—Tommy could see it from here. “You mate, have always been, and will always be, very fucking good at pointing out the painfully obvious.”

Tommy smiled softly and walked over to Alfie, kissing his shoulder. Alfie looked over at him, the very real fear hidden beneath his playful expression. “Everything is fine, Alfie. I slept well, even. I haven’t been up for much longer than you.”

“Feeling all right then?”

“I feel fine.”

“Fine?” Alfie sighed dramatically, making Tommy grin. Alfie believed him, he could tell. “I bring you out all the way to this house, out of my own fucking pocket, might I add, and all I get is a fine? I’ll tell you Thomas, you, mate, are harder to please than any fucking woman I’ve ever met.”

Tommy hid his smile in Alfie’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around Alfie’s side, Alfie throwing his own arm over Tommy’s shoulder. “And how many women have you actually conversed with? Two? Three?”

“Fuck off Tom. I was a romancer, I’ll have you fucking know.”

“A romancer?” Tommy let slip a laugh, Alfie’s smile widening as he did. “Who were you romancing Alfie? What poor Jewish woman did you force your terrible flirtations on?”

“I didn’t force nothing on no one, I’ll have you fucking know. My flirtations, yeah, have always been well fucking received.”

“I doubt that.”

“Oh really? What the fuck are you doing here then, eh?”

“Alfie, if it weren’t for me, we would not be together, I can promise you that.”

“Right, sure,” Alfie chuckled, kissing Tommy’s head, “whatever makes you feel better Tom.”

Tommy chuckled softly, pulling Alfie with him to the steps, sitting down close to one another, their sides pressed together firmly, hands clasped, heads bent in the direction of each other. The weather was perfect, the air cool—everything about the moment was so incredibly serene, almost magical. Something unreal. Something that Tommy didn’t ever think he’d be allowed to have.

“When we retire, let’s move to the country.” Tommy murmured. “Us, the kids, Cyril.”

“Yeah, you do belong out here treacle, I can fucking see that.” he sighed, shaking his head, looking out to the distance. “The man who is fucking running cities isn’t fit to actually be in one. You have always been your worst enemy, darling.”

“It’s what makes me so interesting.”

“Interesting, mad, all the fucking same now.” But Alfie turned Tommy’s face toward him and kissed him gently. Tommy felt warm all over—it wasn’t just the sun, it was Alfie. Alfie was just warm. “Whatever you want Tom, whatever you want, yeah? You want to move here, then we will.”

“That easy is it?” Tommy put his head on Alfie’s shoulder.

“Mate, how many times do I gotta tell you, eh? I am a fucking god amongst men. I’ll move you anywhere you want. Bring the fucking sun down for you if you wanted, yeah?”

Tommy squeezed his hand. “I don’t need the sun, Alfie. I have you.”

Alfie was quiet, as he sometimes was, when Tommy surprised him with his romantic affirmations of love, but Tommy felt Alfie’s lips lightly brush the top of his head. Besides, they didn’t always need to speak, they were good at reading the silences. So, they sat there, in the cool summer breeze, Cyril barking happily in the distance, enjoying their vacation.

[hb-writes]

A Big, Beautiful Fellow

1926

Clara had settled on something close to forgiveness, nudged in that direction by her aunt, who arguably had forgiven Tommy of more than what Clara was still holding on to. She still held her brother at more of a strategic distance than he liked though, timing her already sparse visits to Arrow House for when she knew he'd be away in London. Tommy might have been able to accept that had Charles not been so clearly put out about not seeing his aunt and father at the same time.

Polly had suggested Tommy bring his sister out of Birmingham for the weekend, somehow knowing without his having to say that he had been thinking the same thing. It was time for something to mend between them, even if it was only just enough so Clara wasn't holding herself back from her nephew on account of his father.

Clara wasn't entirely pleased to be riding through Warwickshire with her brother at the end of a long week. She had tried to make herself scarce before he made it back from his afternoon meetings, but Polly caught her on her way out the door, inviting her for a cup of tea. And when Polly offered a cup of tea, there was little to do but go set yourself down in her office and have the bloody cup of tea, even when the brew tasted of strategy and deceit.

So instead of hiding out somewhere in Birmingham until Tommy was gone for the weekend, Clara sat and chatted with Polly about her plans for the future and about her nephews and about her horses, the ones Clara had been neglecting for long stretches of time now that she wasn’t out at Tommy’s with much regularity. Clara knew exactly what her aunt was doing, prattling on about horses she knew nothing and cared nothing about to delay her long enough for Tommy to arrive back and slip into the chair beside her niece. Clara was out the door with her brother only five minutes after he arrived. 

But Clara and Tommy had barely spoken since, nothing more than a few meaningless phrases passed between them after the initial greeting. In the quiet of the car's backseat, Tommy immersed himself in some papers retrieved from his briefcase while Clara feigned interest in her latest novel. She had yet to make it beyond the second page and passed more of the ride with her tired gaze out the window than down at her book.

Tommy set his papers away when they turned down the drive, watching his sister take a heaving breath as the book sat in her lap, its pages held open only by her thumb tucked between the pages. He was becoming used to her silence and the distractedness that seemed almost intentional on her part.

Tommy hadn’t apologized to her so much as he acknowledged what he’d done, or at least expressed an understanding of Clara’s view, and he issued a promise of it never happening again. And she accepted that, but things weren't the same.

 Clara wasn't being disrespectful or impolite, a fact that troubled Tommy far more than her being angry would have. The hollow disinterest and deliberate distance communicated more than any of the blaring and emotional defiance she'd afforded him over the years.

"Don't just run off when—"

Startled by his words after covering such a distance in silence, Clara jolted and her face shot to Tommy's. The book had flown from her hands, landing on the floor beside Tommy's feet.

He leaned down to pick up, handing it out to her just as the driver pulled up outside of Arrow House.

Clara had the door open before the car stopped and Tommy dropped the book she had yet to take from him into her lap, leaning across her to pull the door shut once again.

"Clara—"

"Why?" she asked.

"Why?" he repeated.

"Yes. Why can’t I go off and do whatever I’d like now that we’re home?”

Tommy exhaled. "Just, uh… close your eyes, Clara.”

Tommy still had his hand on the door handle and at those particular words, Clara got to work prying at his fingers.

"Let me out, Tom—"

Tommy's grasp shifted to his sister's hands and Clara let out a frustrated groan.

"Close your eyes and I'll let you—"

Clara shoved her brother's hand away and pushed herself out the door. She hesitated only a moment, turning back as she considered whether it was wiser to just leave the book behind or reach back into the car for it. Tommy was quick though, out the door and around the car much quicker than she’d seen him move in quite some time and Clara couldn't have made it past him even if she tried.

"Tommy, what the—"

"Will you fucking listen for once? Just close your eyes and hold out your hands, eh?"

Clara shook her head. She’d had enough of going into things with her eyes tightly shut, her brother’s firm guidance always leading her towards the unknown, or at least what was unknown to her. To Tommy, everything seemed to be known.

Tommy stared at his, exuding an unexpected patience that annoyed Clara. It made her eager to put on a grand fight rather than slinking off to the periphery for the weekend as she had planned.

"No, Tommy, I—"

Tommy grasped her upper arm and dragged her to a spot in front of him, both of them facing the house. He slipped a hand over her eyes and ignored her protests, holding her back firmly against his chest. Tommy guided her away from the car, forcing her to take small steps as he moved them both.

"What the hell are you playing at?"

Tommy's hand dropped from Clara’s arm a short moment before a whistle sounded near her ear. The sound startled her and she stumbled but Tommy’s hand moved back to her arm and he steadied her.

“Alright, so we’ve got the eyes shut. Now, hold out your hands," he said. "Unless I need to take care of that as well?”

Clara huffed and, in the struggle to pull herself away from Tommy’s hold, she didn’t hear the sound of crunching gravel.

"Let me—"

A shriek ripped from Clara's lips and she backed into her brother's chest as something wet touched her hand. Both of Clara's hands moved to her face, working to pry away the hand Tommy still had clasped over her eyes. A solid mass knocked against her legs over and over.

"Tommy, let me fucking go!"

He dropped the hand covering Clara's eyes to catch her arm when she made to throw an elbow into his stomach. Her entire body seemed to shift into a lower gear as her eyes settled on the creature in front of her. A small ‘oh’ came through Clara’s lips and Tommy released her, taking a step away.

“Well, hello there you big, beautiful fellow,” Clara said, kneeling down beside the dog and patting him a bit as she glanced back at her brother. “You bought Charlie a dog?”

Tommy gave her half a nod, though he didn’t think half of what Clara had just said was quite right. The dog was far from beautiful, and Tommy hadn’t bought him. The beast was more of an inheritance. And Charles wasn't the only one Tommy had been thinking of when he decided to bring the thing home.

“He’s not the only one who’s been asking after a dog.”

Clara glanced up to her brother for a moment, a rush of hot blood flowing to her cheeks and the tips of her ears. She cleared her throat and looked back to the dog, idly scratching behind his ears.

“Well, we’ll have to name you…" she said, "something very strong and dignified. Regal, perhaps. Something appropriate for a distinguished gentleman such as—"

“The dog's name is Cyril,” Tommy answered, his hands tucked into his coat pockets.

Clara pouted a moment. “Fine. How about Cyril Fitzwilliam Shelby, then?”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Middle name Solomon.” 

“You gave the dog a first and a middle name already?”

“He came with a name.” Tommy shrugged. “Seemed a bit cruel to change it.” 

Clara put her hands on both sides of the dog’s face. “Fine,” she announced, looking into the dog's big gentle eyes, “Lord Cyril Solomon Shelby it is, then, the most handsome prince to grace these hallowed halls” 

“Make sure he stays off the furniture," Tommy said.

Clara absently nodded, but as his sister stared into the dog’s eyes with more kindness than Tommy had seen from her in months. He had a feeling he’d be repeating the request to keep him off the furniture for the rest of Cyril’s days. 

“Thank you for doing this… for Charlie,” Clara said, standing up and fitting herself against his chest as she hugged him. “I’m sure you’ve made him very happy.” 

Tommy nodded as he let out a breath of relief. “I expect you’ll show our boy what to do? So he knows how to care for him when you’re not—”

“I’ll show him,” Clara mumbled against his chest.

Tommy hadn’t meant it to be a bribe. The dog was truly an opportunity that simply presented itself, but something about the way Clara hugged him made him feel she had accepted something from him, and he was feeling a bit more forgiven. 

Tommy took a moment to reciprocate, his arms holding Clara against him for what felt like too brief a stretch before she pushed off his chest, turning back to the dog who had spent the last few seconds whipping his thick, excited tail against their legs.

“Come on, Lord Cyril. Let’s go find our Charlie boy.”

-----

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist.

[justmeandmysickies]

“My stomach’s bothering me." and “I don’t feel so hot.” for any of your male character please, maybe he's at work/school and his partner take him home, thank you

Thank you for the request anon!

Anytime, babe

characters: Cyril and Leo warnings: emeto

Today had been nothing but dreadful for Leo.

The morning had already started horribly when he woke up with the familiar feeling of nausea blooming in the pit of his stomach. And it got even worse, when instead of finding comfort in his husbands’ waiting arms, he only found a little note informing him, that said husband had already left for work.

His stomach churned at the thought of literally any kind of food, so he begrudgingly took a shower and headed to work himself, skipping breakfast altogether.

He’d then had a few appointments; mostly rich snobs looking for the most extravagant mansion they could find.

Now he was sitting at his desk in his private office looking over some contracts. Or at least he was trying to. The uncomfortable churning in his stomach had turned into pain – constant cramps making him feel like his insides were being squeezed. Every now and then, air would travel up his esophagus in the form of burps, which he’d let out shamelessly, considering he was alone in his office.

Leo leaned back in his chair as he huffed in frustration. He had no time to lose and yet he wanted to do nothing but go home and sleep this off. Unfortunately, the documents on his desk were important and time sensitive, so he went back to work.

His persistence didn’t last long though. Not even twenty minutes later, Leo had given up on the idea of work entirely, instead rubbing openly at his upset middle. Cold sweat had started running down his forehead, his pink hair now sticking uncomfortably to his clammy skin. Another burp traveled up his throat, making him cringe at the sour aftertaste it left in his mouth. He hissed through clenched teeth as another cramp shot through his abdomen, the pain so intense that he doubled over in his chair, both hands pressed to his stomach in a desperate attempt to soothe it.

He was panting hard and just as the cramp tapered off and Leo was able to straighten up, his nausea spiked suddenly. An empty gag forced its’ way out of him. His eyes widened in surprise as his right hand flew to his mouth, his left never leaving his tormented middle. Leo swallowed thickly, as he stayed completely still, in fear that moving might trigger an unwanted reaction from his body.

When he didn’t gag again after a few minutes, he exhaled slowly and leaned back into his chair. He wanted to go home but had no intention of driving there himself. So he called the one person who he knew would drop everything for him – his husband Cyril.

As expected, Cyril picked up at the first ring. What Leo hadn’t expected however, was the retch that came out of his mouth instead of the intended ‘hey’. Cyril was quiet for a second before he spoke, clearly a bit confused. “Hey, baby. What’s going on?”

Leo would have liked to answer but he was currently busy trying to keep his stomach from ejecting its contents all over his expensive mahogany-desk.

“Baby?” Cyril asked again, this time a sense of urgency evident in his voice. Something was clearly wrong with his husband, and he didn’t like that one bit.

Leo took a deep breath in through his nose, willing his stomach to stay in place. “I- I don’t feel so hot.” He mumbled, barely audible behind the hand that was still clamped over his mouth.

“Are you at the office?” Cyril questioned, already grabbing his car keys.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m on my way.” And with that the older man had hung up, leaving Leo alone in his misery.

The nausea was now all-consuming as it barely left him able to form a coherent thought. He started to salivate and panic set in as he realized that this was really happening. He was going to throw up in his office. Leo felt another burp gurgle up his chest and he knew that this one would be his downfall. Swallowing wasn’t an option anymore, so he did the only logical thing he could think of – he quickly grabbed the trashcan that usually sat under his desk and stuck his head in it. And not a second too soon.

The burp brought up a projectile wave of almost entirely liquid vomit, that left Leo gasping for air. His body didn’t give him much time to breathe though before a retch produced a second wave of the foul-smelling substance. Leo straightened up slightly, to wipe the tears of exertion from his eyes. He had a minute to catch his breath, but he knew he wasn’t done.

He put the trashcan on the floor between his legs and leaned over, so Leo now had both hands pressed to his cramping stomach. He felt it lurch under his palms as another powerful heave got the third round started. An uncomfortable heat spread through his body as more brown-tinged vomit landed in the trashcan, painting the pieces of paper in it a sickening color. Leo closed his eyes at the disgusting sight and just as the third round seemed to come to an end, the door to his office opened.

Leo wasn’t worried. He knew the only person who’d come into his office unannounced, was his husband. He heard a deep sigh and then heavy steps walking over to him. Cyril put a comforting hand on his husbands’ neck, instinctively massaging the sensitive area. He immediately regretted his decision of looking at the trashcan as his own stomach threatened to expel its’ contents.

Leo rubbed desperately at his middle, trying to rid himself of another cramp. “My stomach is bothering me.” Leo whined, failing to think of a better word.

Cyril chuckled at the massive understatement. “You don’t say.”

Leo tried to glare at his husband but in his current state it looked more like a frown as he once again leaned over the trashcan with a pitiful burp. He groaned. “I want to go home.”

The nausea hadn’t subsided one bit and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in his husbands’ arm in their more-than-comfortable bed.

“I’ll take you home, as soon as you feel up to it.” Cyril promised, still carefully rubbing his poor loves’ back.

“I’m ready, I want to go now.” Leo said as he stood up and walked towards the exit, giving his husband no time to argue.

Cyril quickly caught up to the slightly smaller man as they made their way down to the car. The ride home was luckily uneventful but as soon as Cyril had unlocked their front door, Leo shoved past him and took off into the direction of the bathroom.

The older man sighed, dreadfully following his husband. He found Leo with his head in the toilet heaving harshly before the distinct sound of liquid hitting liquid could be heard. Cyril once again placed his palm on his husbands arched back, gentle circles encouraging him to relax. His free hand found its’ way onto Leos’ forehead to brush sweaty strands of pink hair out of the way.

After several more minutes of mostly empty gagging, Leos’ stomach finally felt somewhat settled. He looked up at Cyril who had just leaned forward to flush the toilet.

“Thanks for picking me up, by the way. I know you’re busy.”

Cyril smiled down at his husband, momentarily appreciating how beautiful he looked, even in a state like this. How that was possible, he’d never know. “Anytime, baby. Anytime.”

[consciously-naive]

Call the Midwife 11.6 recap

My recap of last week's episode of Call the Midwife generated some really interesting discussions about what the show is doing well and also the things we would like it to do differently. I wanted to do the same again for tonight's episode - please reply and let me know your thoughts! Here we go.

SPOILERS AHEAD

- First of all, FINALLY a challenging situation for Shelagh that actually called on her medical skills. I confessed last week that I've begun to find her character a tad irritating, but this felt like a step in the right direction.

- Was it ever confirmed that Jojo was baby Clover's father, or was it just heavily implied? Even if he wasn't, I can't imagine watching a heavily pregnant woman struggling to haul a mattress up many flights of stairs and not lifting a finger to help!! Much less abandoning her during labour to attend a 'Happening'. It was a great reminder that even seemingly progressive, enlightened men can make absolutely terrible partners/humans.

- Kind of a weird coincidence that Arnold was both Clover/Susan's father and Mrs Greenhalgh's son, don't you think? (Unless it was just two nearly identical men wearing the same jumper.) Very little effort was made to bring the two storylines together, so I'm not sure what the thinking was there.

- Mrs Greenhalgh herself was sort of heartbreaking. Not being a believer in spiritualism myself, my first thought was that she might be experiencing schizophrenia or some other mental health issue, and that that was why she could hear 'voices' that were at times very distressing to her. (If that were the case, I don't think it was fair for Sister Monica Joan to press her for answers, but it was never discussed as a possibility so we'll never know.)

- Matthew the Friendly Landlord was out in force again. I don't actually dislike him as a character, I just think this is one of the points at which my politics (ALAB) diverge from those of the writers (he's One of the Good Ones). Interesting that he's still a major character even in Trixie's absence; it suggests that he's here to stay, perhaps permanently.

- I was majorly rolling my eyes during the Bird Panic, we used to have birds fly into our house occasionally when I was growing up (in the countryside) and it really wasn't that big a deal, you just open all the windows and let them find their own way out. As for the superstition that a bird in the house is a bad omen... shouldn't the nuns be above all that? I dread to think what Sister Julienne would say if she knew about Sister Monica Joan consulting a clairvoyant!

- Putting Lucille in the maternity home instead of on district duty when a) she's just had a miscarriage and b) the district rounds are extremely busy and c) I repeat, she's just had a miscarriage - wtf? It wasn't just 'insensitive' of Sister Julienne, it was a failure of basic empathy, tact and common sense. Perhaps taking Lucille off midwifery duties without asking her would also have been unfair, though not unusual given that she isn't in charge of her own schedule. But having a conversation with her about what kind of work would be the least distressing for her should have been the obvious course of action.

- Lucille and Cyril's social distancing continues, as distractingly as ever (even though I thought they were both v compelling in this episode). A good friend of mine suggested that at least one of the actors might be unvaccinated, which would perhaps explain it, though if that's the case I hope they have a good reason!

- Speaking of vaccines, there was something a little on the nose about the Big Vaccination Push, wasn't there? Obviously the messaging is very much needed in these plague times, but it was hardly subtle. Also, here's a possibly controversial opinion to end on: vaccines are great, but I couldn't help but feel that the consequences of Dr Turner's need to Prove A Point really fell on everyone else in the team, as they all had to scramble to meet a frankly unreasonable target, at short notice, while understaffed. Hmm!

[libidomechanica]

Such as I to

A curtal sonnet sequence

               1

Boiling sprites did thither they were met by my own; and suddenly, with joy the beauty-crest of sisters, some among, the whisper often come, to chase fatigue is flowing hair. Such as I to take way longer envying their feet in flower wine she drank: her faire cold wipers along the stream that crawled like a cavern springs the crimson rose, how sweet a sleeping from a sick dove. Therefore wilt thou sire of those sugred lips.

               2

Perfect too: perfect music and louing lay apart as sacred sward last eve, and such a mother and began to moan, but fettered limbs go lame! But stream, across the whole weak race of a day that every careless cloud that runs through, many a year my pipe is never dies! With bars lest Christabel And who art thou sinn’d in aught offensive tendance in this dull and cloudy, even while I past him, I was forst from the bridegroom fair.

               3

I built his bow he bent, for, nor despise. Again the weeping, eye-earnestly, through clear and clodded earth gives it and dote upon the brine. Therefore, was just going; when, behold our sanctuary violate, our laws are kissings worth, if thou kiss not me? She said; she wept, I am aweary, aweary, I would race with me oft she sat: the dew had taken fairy phantasies to strain the fabric of mi skirt, just so.

               4

In bitter look, some will spare, an’ wilfu’ folk maun hae their death, where there ever issues forth a steady splendour; but at this moment, they moved. Again the weeping. Broad leaved fig trees it struck, and, plashing blue movies from thee going by would watch. May hap I love all human kind. Revel may survey our rustic dance wi’ scorn; but my kisses rain on my lips and changes like light! Now ’tis tatter’d; leaving us fancy-sick.

               5

No sighs but sigh-warm kisses, ere this, is come cold wipers along the thrushes, and his step, and drive from beneath the happy threshold of the personality of the inhuman dearth of noble end, and blushing face; she loved, and so he had authority direct! See the moon in pieces of my soul, we must give whate’er these the broken system made no purple throat skewered like a child there was only one alive?

               6

Silent; but pain clings cruelly to us, that lay beside us, Cyril, battered the next day she asked: Melchior? She said; she said; she said, Art thou go? She said brokenly, that soon he rose and free home to her place, disdained, right? Enough to play hard or play at all. As the birth, or wealth, because of this the trees bring again. Thus truly, when thy trains my younger and yours shall ever be. Happy sleep. And like a split broiler.

               7

Yet I am not the lassie be; weel ken I my ain lassie, fair tho, the last gasp comes peace to everything here, half an hour in each of you and me, curled like two grubs on the slippery rocks, and daws, and the third day the Chaplain would sooner than a partridge. My little shallop, floating cloud than your horses’ echoing feet! And all men kill the baskets. Tell his footsteps trod the unclean leper’s house one unbecoming her.

               8

And state, this Present, thou, and beauty born of murmuring of innumerable bees. For whether moved beyond the roses to-night, alone, which ours we call. Air; and all his owne liuely forme in rudest braine. Nor find him; by the happy pens whither then incline, and we all should hear the city’s din; now while the earth in the blossoms with trembling, hidden, laughing loud, he flew away, and try its worth: here dies another’s hall.

               9

Through copse-clad vallies where we withdrew from his voiceless grave: they have gone, she knew she could so preposterously the secret that I have ever thought I could not pass in storm we had crossed the hymns, and clay endure. Are not our wide plains where fed the hangman’s snare strangle with thee the Lityerses- song against some deer-herd bent, sacred to Dian? And whole; should see I know not how, but shuddered, she unbound their voices called The Witch.

               10

She moved, and clay endure. And can wipe out blood, and the lady Geraldine! And what was all. Caressed by the sweet Stellas name. Therefore sully the entrusted gem of high and noble life with their contrary to kind: false love, desire, they this the cell; sir Leoline; softly gathering lights, going to Spain and insult to his waist. Or red with countless fleeces? Sir Leoline. Come away, come thou would be enough, you are they.

               11

From hunting with a daughter mild made answer, troubles, anxieties, and stranger, I will be my rival, though even it, purpled, spiking away, wants to be a good look that hour with the other unguess’d offices, like creature reign’d all frailties that doth Phoebus’ light! And the world’s dusky brink. Such gloom, and nothingness; but still will keep a lamb strayed far a-down those icy chains across the daffodils with the old oak tree!

               12

And by each let this one is which. For such as I to take in draught of the world-without- end hour whilst eyes that do still live on through which to feed her large bright-eyed Eulalie upturns her matron Night uptook her ebon urn, young Mercury, by stealth, and we shall haunt you! We banged the doors: to the exhausted, driven out of long frustration of the Keyes betrayed, and lay down by the sweet and faintest sighs, that, when once we goe a Maying.

               13

Made for me. Everything I’ve read, the poor of God, or for the world was like a spark that never could end the pearliest dew not brings his Sicilian shepherds sang to Proserpine, among whose chin was, in fact, stained within my grasp, that I be call’d to taste sometime she will die somewhat, again and rage, his cheeks so shallow too, as to show her tongueless crocodile. He does not counted fair Geraldine nor speak to the truth.

               14

To drink a draught within, and dipt again, thou lovely maid and sees a damsel bright, my dazzled soul, but hurriedly they told me all so often that fine air I trembled as he can! I sat contemplating the way, young damsels danced along, bearing the shaft, and the bitter wine she drank the sun is setting of this pleasant is thine, the fingers push the feather in the gray- eyed morn about thee ring, hear us, great Pope’s sight?

               15

And angels’ purity, ‘twixt women’s love! In this dull and struggle having a white! Each matin bell, the working out. Of salt, and still the babe restored; nor thought to sink, was caught my waking ears, and up I started up, and sleep in love’s lips a-glow! The chuckling linnet its five young. No doubt, she had failed in sweetness only due to the overgrowth at his feet beneath him, and thy breast and quiet scene; the memory they brim.

               16

I know how long its happy, honest, stay and thy years hence my eyes show it. Lengthened on the roofs like the knight Pinto—Mendez Ferdinando—still form a synonym for Truth—Cease trying! She flees away, her fear plants many a green-gown has been sent messenger came back to me. And in it lies? To her; for her thighs caressed by the tide; the old age; dishonoured by his dishonored grave: nor mark it with thee of yore, thyrsis!

               17

God gave for baptism, I am forsaken; a torment from my ears but attend, instead, to the stars are strewn—so have I answered thee? Heart’s flame kindles red. The brave man with his breast. At every drifting: yet my higher bard than simple as that had riven his fainting recollections. Of fright in what the old stone bridge.—And dream and all that we see, get up, sweet-Slug-a- bed, and always death. What it might not go free, ah!

               18

By barn in threshing-time shoot: but grim to see the pipe is lost, my shepherd’s phrase, will woo: the courtiers’ gems may witness’d in the grass, uncared for, spied its memory they brim. Dispensing harvest, or the rich to-come reels, as they moving caught a glimpse of his soul was resolute, and mused and saw such dreadful leisure of weary days, moves with lightens in his hard-mailed hands, who turned each listening cell, and lang has had my day.

               19

Or used to do. Adorn beauty’s grace, that if they be harm’d, said he, all flushed you safe and fearful to alight from stumbling over his small eye blinks dull and trees do lean all round ears, which is also a pauper. Thus to a dying tones, yet swelled the dew- slick grass, a wailful gnat, a bee bustling among seer leaves will buy me sheep and kye, he has nae love these twain, upon the radio comes clear—neither milk-white thighs, when they fled?

               20

Melts downe his lead into their hearts can mend; all tongues that mine eye saith true, and trying to get out. Only the twelve hours, and she doth lie, made more by looking on my bliss—I was distracted; madly did I dream, be perfectly completions—be quicklime on the Dew-locks of the lies turning thoughts to see? Must sentence pass, things done, that know not how, in fear, needing you as Ra knew the Dorian shepherd, in the winds are wooing wind!

               21

For ever: but howso’er fixed in your likes. We tell begin now while the lie, till the gallows’ need: so with rolling so as scarce alive. In the moment lies with its ode inside, a troop of little like tears followed, and sorrow? Astonished, dear. Erect and nothingness; but still were in a bed of roses, almost crashed, they, weeping fit; or upward ragged brows bushes and thine are so harsh, heart-wearying roar, let in the sky?

               22

The Prince. This, I was a child there was no grave at all: only a biochemical or two keeps me from behind me whisper from the bride in the longest break in your lit harvest, sowing the way by now just from Stella euer deere, stella, whose patient watch over the might be moved, and due to the end, melting into plastic circumstance, this sowre-breath’d mate taste of thine, and I never say that do you become a papa!

               23

The fresh budding Boy, or Girle, this seed, this wretched forth the door is pitiless and impulse: and with darkness grope: we did not heed the same, as might die. What song to sigh; and yet it cannot keep my heart that more of a new lover hie, laugh o’er the cottage sings: for Nature and the typing of the gate, he came with death, whose manger makes her in her mind an hour in each, and all male minds of blood to their love when youthful Thames?

               24

The snowy-banded, dilettante, delicate amber; and the matron eye—while ever to mine own brothers maim. Then falling, think which way to walk forlorn, till cold wipers along the small, slight what men they are old; some say, for proffer, lastly gave me the thing here so stunn’d and smooth! The Warder is Despair: he only looked askance at Christabel: all our household ways, not perfect I call his owne liuely forme in rudest braine.

               25

She past on; but each assumed from this sad life closes with its adder-bitten root, and heap’d a spire of teeming sweets, enkindling sacred to Dian? Called and something, what armour to indue. Which of Them it could nothing all objects to his palate doth proue; bidden, perhaps spin straw into gold. From the grey downs dulled to sleep, protected by her side—a sight to dream of, not to be marked by the park to practice an angel’s feet.

               26

Or, it may hap “cuckoo; cuckoo, cuckoo! The same; the leaves his house with all the soft babe in arm: there is the stroked my cries with man who looked with saints. She offered him all these harms, their arms were sated with lots of tape delays and look’d for? You and younger even. But when that I speak, nor move, nor e’er concentrate on the grave,? The mother, the maker of the world and wave, to meet his lips, and slowly twins emerged. Each tongue is mute.

               27

Hath she thin gray cloud is gray: tis a monsters and the staring eyes, with blush and I’ll professes, and sidelong glances at my feet hath led me—who knows how? Mother is pure invention the maps they pass the Baron rich, hath a toothless mastiff bitch? With clear away the palace floors, and soon it lightly dipt, and there sped a troop of little bent; and if from shepherd-god. Devotion gives each House a Bough, I can seem but slow?

               28

That thou declare all that she could never lost, therefore, ’tis with thee. Sixty years hence, though thou her guardian spirit works out, this is what I hate those amongst us all who walked at these late showers as moisture breeds the pipy hemlock to stray he knew, which like the gnawing sloth on the touch of a vanish’d hand, at the rabid wolf whose precious time at the old oak tree! A noise of songs thine heart, would I spur, though by the day.

               29

Each matin bell, the world, I love you, holy Christabel, my father charms my very saul, the kingdom but he drank: her fair large eyes gan glitter bright, drawn after you’ve risen. And the bitter lot that God’s eternal spring, when proud-pied April dress’d in all men%u2019s souls for a lady’s lively shining rails: and, rank by rank, we soaped the world and alone. The space between;— but neither milk-white, of mingled bubblings and neck.

               30

Their steps they gave us were on his arm is with the dove to take way longer, I wish it gentle as freedom of the valley road. You will not, while we may could life return, twould never heard! But it is not wrong. Now while time left to me this head, and drinks it up: mine eye and hanging day; love stays forever like a broken sheds look’d for? Lifted her up, as in a tomb. The first Man took his brother ran in his eyelids pale.

               31

I know you stand stiff as Lot’s wife, and loud to Lord Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine. Gained the dead. But this heath, this caprice; and as old Falstaf says let us e’en talk a little thing he loves by each side a Warder dared to overlean a finger lighted Troth, and right, and they heard a noise of songs thine height to the dooms we have left to dream that creeps windingly by it, so the quilts, crooning, closer—one day you realize it.

               32

For term of life that hill where smiling bright ’neath master-hands, from them, palaces and tower, tu—whoo! Sleep o’er-power’d me in midst of all, the burning wind, never weep, never saw a man who looked on the day either I loved, wants to carry me away, come sweet side o’ the Yarrow, and fair; but love, let us type them now in our own. A hundred years should rob the phantoms of a lost lover—all, all upon the cool depth.

               33

Something to me; but blythe’s the blind men can also see. Then the year behind the type of silence prayeth she. Each helped us at our parting cry, from the web of gloom crept till dawn at the sky. ’ Bud, yet lost ere that waits for Sin had caught up into one ball, and last, to these, the brethren of our language—and sweet is the gallows’ need: so with rolling eyes: and with thy hand, and pretty at each man does not pray with precision hooves.

               34

To wash her, water for my state: and, since I came with his blood, and valley-lilies whiter blow. The woods with thine are sealed: I strove, made head, while the lies our clod; nearer we hold Thee just, strike twelve hours between sorrow and sorry season is over now! Are like a mirror on a string, except it be at peace—this wretched over it awkward flair rare steaks, onion rings, Maker’s on the flowers have traded life beats in my arms.

               35

Huge dens and caverns in a mountain of immortal drink, and distorted therewithal: be she likewise one of us would ease me of my tongue was the maidens came, the crowd. Nay but the Heads of the heart beating still above the bodiless dead espy? They glided past, they measure the space of a swallows and lives? Doubt the man who looked with a bitter, deathly ache; till old days, jovial and the sky not falling stars.

               36

Eyes scintillating soul transpires at every tongue says beauty a’ the night-fowl crow: the country and laid them out; but thou always when it’s dead I will colors coincide in white. Our moment have we stept into a river burns inside the man who left me, some love holds her helpless breaks with man who left me in earth, which is my boast, and when true love of things by a law divine in one another’s hall. And makes me thence?

               37

Then let me shun such follying before them from men’s reverend beard of grisly twine, all my woes I wrate; stella, food of my heart like a stream that never will buy me rigs o’ land, and sweet is the key. Catkins of your ideograms, how only a stretch to touch her babe; but she nuh notice him also carry gun? A live heart of strength, thy golden brede, lay like one in the matted turf he kept, again and wings of humanity.

               38

And take the rose! Like a linty, raw-cold dust disturbed from the gaps and sick surmise, they only swelled the hall, when noon is past; to sit with my brethren lay; there is one to pick juicy rubies, whose fair charities joined at her side of sheaves when last the hot cornfield of thee cannot be staid with the lawn, the cable whispered lowly, how dark the dreaming. Instinct now are peering eyes scintillating soul, there lay a boar- spear keen.

               39

Everything is strangely alas Nights side the last line of your strange ministries of female hands our forehead, with her dread, and now in happier times; but yet with nimble feet to dance its body, and real the changing so high, on the greasy Joan doth keel the pot. Cheek is cold, thy prison that dimmed her broke a genial warmth and sky. Is pitiless and the ward to the lady wiped her moist cold brow, and still renewable fear.

               40

His messenger came back down thy nature. Ask me no more amongst the Trial Men in a suit of shame the Herald came to do the sea and came back upon him with the buffeting north that balances the head, gained ground upon their behoof, whose grace may be my love’s milky brow! Or else he mighty Mother doth not see within her—let her make her hands found made: so, better, age, exempt from strife, should have broken and a’ his gear.

               41

Devouring Time, blunt thou this store: so then I am sometimes was my early exposure to Frankenstein! What use to keep in its resolved course. My offence is more awful shine from the horn, when the dwarf took pity. That was, became like a broken purpose while some did bring, to wash her, water for thee! Of a great krater-cup bearing the mountain air; and all the torrent dance to flutes, to dance thee die! Sleep will not wait?

               42

Than think to win. And now my wrist is naked. These were the flood of them my life hath eyes so innocent and pictorial. My spouse Nancy? Thy power to bid thee feeble, all the wide in times within she sees a great bronze valves, and with the wrong. The lovely handsome, the woods! Were we not friend and sorrows more than that pretty Face? The first thine enmossed realms: O thou, the solid ground upon my brow nay! Full in the Rust Belt.

               43

I am your dwarf. Have; then ten time; down each grated screen, and never could endure to brood so lately claspt with young Love upon a hearse: and the big kids make the boy walks to the sea inside its now, its halved pit unfleshed—what was better, youth should I forget all thy numerous array and take the earth is glad: the mere commingling keys opened the house with so dead and pale violence with force and found fair peace once more.

               44

Had entered into a peach. The lady rose again, seals of love, and call her nerves, each muscle and forth thou heard’st a low moaning wind went wandering if the Babe is born a boy he’s given to a close, ne’er to wake thou wert, I came, some good survivor with aught else can our searching witness’d in their arms, seems to smile as infants at a sudden silence and shady grove, and sin no more: at which in thy jocund youthful Thames?

               45

—And here I bid it die. Be near her still. And as a vapour, or a drop of manna- dew, full palatable; and all the Quarters of emotional importance please address these question of the gate that which her voice slow and green Thirst that same night shall poor Sylvander hie; depriv’d of the herd that holds the listening, as thought, with a tender hands she dabbles, on the wild lean- headed Eagles yelp alone, I marry the bed.

               46

With midnight I’ll pluck you a wreath of unseen among us, willing sea, in distant shore, where it lies? We’re out in a country maid. A rose leaf round thy base, no longer than see it. Rare steaks, onion rings, Maker’s on the radio comes clear—neither of the carpet tonight and no child will ever call me Papa. Is too stern. Then the lark was lost in the afternoon the sea and the beaded-curtain up some wood- nymph’s home.

               47

And when she told her: As I came with my night vision straining too hard to make him mad, nor does Terror crept. Petal by petal, now they pass the Baron’s heart and free of space. He knew that he was a man! The thoughts abide. We trod the upper sky, do love you, or such as fancies grew. Head, but in the deed off, calls the herd that holds a state was drawn of tiffanie or cobweb lawn. And out of bed? Who is my sin and not for you!

               48

There: for flower to make me any summer’s sky, or purged air, as fast asleep, then tell my love can dawn in warmth and sky. Clarinda, mistress’ eyes—to lie on a white! That only this—a living thing when it alteration finds no end, a raging cloud that parly all times she never hold, this mutual kiss drop down between sorrow the ways—or shrink to a phrase like an arrow for my voyage prepar’d with homely hands.

               49

But when Sicilian shepherds with as inconstant stars, in the shore, so that a shadow fell on me; yet firme love that green fruitful seventyfold. For she that once and shady grove, and can with tendrils love even, as an artichoke but that I may dare to mount the way appears, white thighs, when turtles tread, and all at the rabid wolf where soft and mild, as a mother dear mother’s grief, and at every tree, mocks married ear!

               50

Just as we reap in joy the bed she did say: in the teeth of winter night—did you know by now just from Stella euer deere, stella, whose eyes, and we not friends from small, the shivering airs they starve the land, for this we gave our palace roof doth hang from jagged trunks, and dewy buds, and sped And twilight in though soon thy foot resumed its wandering mother! Betrays me back with a sweet peas, I must be meek! One day you realize it.

               51

And beauty treble; and then were gulph’d in a tumultuous swim: and the cuckoo then, on every sport of healing, glanced about to have golden honeycombs; our village street its haunted; I had forgotten time; down each grated screen, and thunder, rain and againe: while all delights be in Thy hand! And the seed its hand, and not then use rigor in my seeing either sex alone is half itself through sunny meadow and shame!

               52

The cankering venom, that held them up, gotten loose from danger, free from thee going away, with ever-after, all, all upon the blink o’ him I wad na gie for Buskie-glen, fu’ is his door. Swell to melting into its airy swelling its account the pangs of her own betrothèd knights maimed, the tended Florian: with her powerful army. It’s more like middle earth had faded: deepest shades were full of grief and scorn.

               53

Them, and a flute’s speech. The doctors chart the chamber shut from the fierce disdaine hath got them, from the eagle’s maw; or by mysterious succession of the Sultán how high! A certain what they, who thought in lead, move right color is invisible strings and presently, the sad death of unseen Power that waits for the fountain, my church the tallest of the carpet tonight and blood and fiery heats, fainting recollections.

               54

On the blink o’ Robie’s e’e, and wave, to meet his lips, and daws, and trouble in his arms he took fair Geraldine! Day long shines, bright beams arise! Life’s self is nourished up, tenderness and have strown it, and are as suddenly, sweetly; i’ll win thee ’gainst the hot season; the middle of the most was once our only Hope to be, and in the absent from the wet grass and still with gems and gold which to the same as pillow to thy head.

               55

Many a tingle on the vulgar mass called work, must sentence pass, things done, that all the eye that know not how, in fear, needing you as Ra knew that soon he rose to weep. Mincing steps of thy repose, till the baskets start back. And the sullen day had chidden herald Hesperus away, her fear plants many a verse I hope to write, while she spake, her lover, can’st thou wouldst give golden morning blown; no one knows I don’t believe it.

               56

For ’twas too much the sons of men who through open fi mi if I shift mi hips to stretch out like to spree. A son was born. Only later did it become a cheering lights, going to Spain and insult to his heart, and God stand in his eyes with mingled with thy glory live. Youthful Lord of Death with icy breath had entered in the vine; nor cared nor knew what he learnt a stormy note of men contentedly, and each wore a mask.

               57

Young couple’s weight,—peona guiding, through its little roof of glass; he does not know of the wooing voice, his grace and loathsome slime, and bound with what life I had, and not a man who looked at the Oppian Law. Gracious household ways, not perfect face; the bosom old, again I look’d, and, O ye deities, who from Olympus watch over the face, struck for him; to a boon southern country he is flowing, dwelt full on the floor below.

               58

Then all her sex, has blest my glorious nothing since has floated in that which it couched, in silence harms.—The Champak odours fail like sweet though, if I say I shall try that look of the river it is perfect strain o’ the Mill was brown before me as the twilight, the childhood? But ’twas love, how frank, how could I spur, though by choices that brings desire of perfect enough to tortured her moist cold brow, and wildly fancy plays.

               59

The moan of doves in immemorial elms, and fix itself embalms: but if we love thy heart denies, oh, in pity hide those experiments on animals; you are shepherd blows his nail, and Tom bears, on whose hearts as lightly as you will die somewhat, against his brother’s laps and kye, he has crossed their comfortings, are given to hide the lashes bright! About Ferguson, deceived and jealous thou art why should rob the prince.

               60

Kept up a shrilly mellow reeds and blossom wavering round the sea. With slouch and pain You are not worthy such a dream, sweet Love were soft and loved the roses of your great plans: yet was she but a girl as much brighter drops that blessedness. When I saw and when the languid fool, who was gaping and arrow, and relax Pluto’s brow, and the mastiff bitch? Light in the furrows of his heart of every morningless and desire!

               61

Than Leda’s love, the oracle of lies. The lamp the lady rose again, ev’ry thy hair all unconscious did thither there, and then he rose in fearful ewes; and we are mended, or when my one chances in the mere commingling keys opened the door is pitiless and impulse: and without, finished: but let it serve this station in the deeps, a wall of night than the sacred vestments swept. Greek from Syria, or a stone bridge.

               62

Quiet we sat and dumb: but each others the silver bugle, and said: please approach and saves the chambers, and we not see’t? And the dreams that raw and ancient art while people for weeping from the heights of the world would moue; if he be faire, yet but a dream, and he turned to help their ears were shatter’d thro’ the regions be his messengers through the earth in the brown hair sprent with spicy chocolates tempers my ways of thee: but finding note.

               63

Ever call me Papa. Most terrible and the boy who shall have had great bounty from Endymion pine away! Sweet beauty’s height to the signal-elm, that had riven his fainting recollection. When my hairs be grey; set me in base, or yet in her breasts! I know then why your bed will say no. About coming the self-same day with all confusion there. And why with her eyes; amazed they glared upon the earth in the birken shaw.

               64

My spear aloft, the thrushes, and perfume. And Memory wakes the sky. Like Orpheus, from instrument, and the wind; stranger, mislaid love, I will sleepwalk all night not for these moment cuts the deed off, calls the threshold, he, or hand in wild delirium, gripe it hard, and said in courtly accents fine, sweet maid, hae I offended? Weaves rainbows o’er yon mountain height the shepherds pipe on oaten straws, ever lonely moated grange.

               65

Strike twelve hours between us for the Lord, and slowly from the web of gloom crept till each thread was Hope. The Princely giver, who hast brought rest to his station in the vale! All chaff of custom, Gama said: the snow, his pinions shook; or, it may be, or your Gowne, or Haire: I fear the roof, the slow clock ticking, and once we crouched in haste; use pleasure lives were guilty beetle is a frightening thirst that man’s face was white o’er the change, in sleep.

               66

Though the hideous shed. Fable, song, or fleeting shade. For thou art gone as well! A night of healing, glanced behind ye: yet, trust me, I shall weigh the summer’s sky, or purged air, tu-who; tu-whit, tu-who! And thine own influence, thrown in our necks, we vanquished, you the heavens fall in a gentle lispers may sigh my love? Which, labouring for the lady of a far countrèe. I doubt he is not wind enough, and clos’d her hand, she weeps: sdeath!

               67

Poetry house it’s not peace in happier air, wandering crew; tis not in the first with my own steed from being cruel, my heart died to keep. And feeble, all uncurl’d: pr’ythee quit this ardent listlessness: for I have told their voices called the girl to vex true hearted was he, the straw into gold or she would gaze at the fullnesse of my thought comfort or console: and we are in our annals, and stiles, over the wide world again.

               68

Spirit pouring thy presence into all: the thunder, when she got too far. When all hell will yet be there, and talk of all things as cold earth-wanderers never sown; this Child I to myself when the best you could be in NY for a favoured youth, nor let the drowsy wing a triple hour, but renovates and lives? I will hold out the person whose hat you are how happy you make the harp-string, if they slander’d till I die.

               69

And the riddle they ask of me and I turn my head became like a ghost she loathed? My tongue says beauty is a joy for ever open is his doom. Ask me no more, but let us type them not; more such a wistfully at the further end was Ida by the blast—quick gathering up her train, that o’er her eyes; amazed they glared upon the outside and hymns in the sweet herbs that seem to keep one oath, must lose one joy, folioed.

               70

Great bounty from Endymion pine away! A prison roof confines thee thou art as a dove would often beat its wings and placing a rumpled crimson petal, fall on that airy trance stumblings down some monstrous precipices flit to save poor lambkins from the grief without all wind and broader- grown yew tree, for a river, clear, brimful, and main lifted her eyes appeare; I sawe that sickening sleep has ended. For thee this I sing.

               71

On whose throat may thy mother is your morning stars do I my judgment too. We have seen the hare I saw a bright lady, surpassingly fair; and did curse the disappeared to incense was sparkling spires, she needs must I lose the child of deceit, a gilded hook that hour with the scented eglantine gave temperate sweets to that seat of grace.—Just ere she kissed it: then—all good go with thine? She came within a little blazes.

               72

Within the hot cornfield of the perfect enough for a look, or heart is resting beneath the hangman, with the blue-tick coated Philomel, and tears upon me taks pity, i’ll do my endeavour to follow it upon the silent fingering a watch whose luminous eyes, and the fetid breath! Who, suddenly, should not see’t? That when our side was vanquished, you the heart’s best brother; and often feeling suddenly dismayed.

               73

Drag inward from Sunne, thou shalt do! Till it begins to progressing tongues—and out of memories of time all chaff of custom, Gama said: the snow-pale prince. Becomes his dwelling-place for ever: its loveliness. In highest way of error, a temple becomes his dwelling-place and garden and its winding through the Wytham flats, red loose or used to bite the maid and meaner beautiful to see, like angry words you might mean.

[codecrusaders]

Capstone Project Progress

-------------------------------------------------

Week 3: Making the RRL Matrix and the planning of our first "Formal Interview"

"During this week, we engaged in a brainstorming session to refine the core concept of our Capstone Project and curated a selection of five robust articles relevant to our project focus. This activity was facilitated by Sir Gulfan, who introduced a well-organized "matrix" layout. Each of us was tasked with populating the respective columns with pertinent data extracted from these collected articles.

Given that our project centers around disease tracking, particularly via online maps, the majority of the articles naturally revolved around Covid-19 news, data collection methodologies, and analytical approaches. Additionally, we encountered recommendations for relevant "Systems" that could enhance our project. This wealth of information serves as a valuable compass, steering us in the right direction.

Over a lengthy weekend break, I, Niño D. Tacbobo, diligently formulated a set of inquiries in preparation for an upcoming formal interview. These questions were intended to glean vital insights into our client's business operations and policies. Regrettably, we encountered a temporary setback related to technical issues surrounding the production of our interview letter. Fortunately, Sir Gulfan provided invaluable guidance in formatting this essential document.

Taking proactive steps, I visited the "Initao Municipal Health Office," our client's location, and personally delivered our interview letter following a formal introduction. Our client informed us that they would only be available for the interview on Thursday due to ongoing profiling activities at their establishment. Consequently, we regret that we were unable to provide the latest updates in this Tumblr blog post. Rest assured, our next post will include these updates and more."

Hacker:

Niño Tacbobo

Lord Rynkar Tracy Dwight Arcamo

Luigie Cyril Francis Posod

Hipster:

Niño Tacbobo

Lord Rynkar Tracy Dwight Arcamo

Luigie Cyril Francis Posod

Hustler:

Niño Tacbobo

Lord Rynkar Tracy Dwight Arcamo

Luigie Cyril Francis Posod

[loadsofplaces]

Mongolia

General Information Mongolia is a country in North Central Asia, landlocked between Russia and China. The Mongolian homeland is divided into Outer Mongolia, the independent state which this article primarily refers to, and Inner Mongolia, an autonomous region of China (most ethnic Mongols actually live in the latter). Mongols likely are descendants of various nomadic tribes that lived in the region over 1.000 years ago such as the Huns, Xiongnu and Khitans. The concept of a Mongolian nation largely arose with the rise of Genghis Khan, who united all Mongol speaking tribes, becoming the “ruler of All The Mongols” and founder of the Mongol Empire around the early 13th century. The Mongol Empire rapidly grew into the world’s leading military power and conquered large parts of Eurasia. Over the next few generations however the Mongol Empire became increasingly fragmented, and the Han Chinese Ming dynasty overthrowing the Mongol-ruled Yuan dynasty in 1368 is usually considered its end, though some Mongol states like the Northern Yuan (until 1635) and the Golden Horde (until 1502) continued on. Mongolia later became part of the Manchu Qing dynasty (Inner Mongolia earlier than Outer Mongolia). With the fall of Qing, Mongolia declared its independence in January 1913, with the new head of state Bogd Khan controlling the area of Outer Mongolia. After his death, the socialist Mongolian People’s Republic was declared in 1924. Like many other Eastern bloc states, Mongolia started its transition to democracy in 1990. About 90% of the 3 Million inhabitants of the country are Ethnic Mongols, with Khalka Mongols (80+%) being by far the biggest groups. Other inhabitants are mostly Central Asian Turks such as Kazakhs, in bigger cities there are some Russians and Chinese. About 53% of inhabitants are Buddhist, 39% have no religion. The capital is Ulaanbaatar.

Traditional vs. Cyrillic Script In Mongolia, you will see a lot of Cyrillic Script - but not exclusively. Mongol has been transcribed in many different alphabets throughout history. The most traditional Mongol alphabet is one that was adapted from an Uyghur alphabet during Genghis Khan’s times. This is still the primarily used writing system for Mongol language texts in Inner Mongolia. In the country of Mongolia however, due to Soviet influence a Latin script was used in the 1930s (during the time of the latinisation movement in the Soviet Union) and starting 1941, Cyrillic became the standard writing system and still predominates today. Just recently in 2020 the Mongolian government announced plans to soon use both scripts again in official documents.

Ger, the Mongolian Yurt An important part of Mongolian culture is the ger, a type of tent used in the traditional nomadic lifestyle of Mongols. In rural areas many pgople still live in gers today. There are a lot of traditions and superstitions related to the Ger: The door has to face South, the North is the place of honour (appropriate for religious or family pictures/objects, as well as the direction where the leader or oldest of a ger tends to sit), the West is the men’s side, the East the women’s side. The stove is at the centre. Visitors should ideally approach the ger from Southwest and never step on the threshold, open the door with the left hand and do the first step with the right leg.

~ Anastasia Economy The economy of Mongolia has traditionally been based on agriculture and livestock. Mongolia's economic freedom score is 62.4, making its economy the 86th freest in the 2021 Index. Mongolia's economy is rated as moderately free. The worst days are definitely behind, at its height one-third of GDP disappeared almost overnight in 1990–91 due to, at the time of the Collapse of the Soviet Union. Mongolia was driven into a deep recession.

Mongolian Empire  The Mongol Empire was the largest contiguous empire the world has ever seen. The Mongol Empire covered 9.15 million square miles of land - more than 16% of the earth's landmass.The empire was established by Genghis Khan. He came to power by uniting many of the nomadic tribes of Northeast Asia. Genghis Khan was a very high performer mainly due to the unique combination of strategic vision, political smarts and battlefield cruelty that gave Genghis unparalleled success. More details might be found on the video below.

~ Damian

Sources: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Economy_of_Mongolia https://www.businessinsider.com/the-10-greatest-empires-in-history-2011-9?IR=T#10-the-rashidun-caliphate-continued-muhammads-legacy-1 https://www.britannica.com/place/Mongoliahttps://mongoliansecrethistory.mn/mongolian-ger-yurt/ https://www.heritage.org/index/country/mongolia