#He can speak a language which is only used by a giant snake and translate words carved into an ancient mask of unknown origin

[the-dormant-ocean]

I love the fact that Atreus just instinctively knows how to speak dead and forgotten languages but the moment Kratos says one word in Greek he's just here like

[nd43polyneins]

hi i was awake at 4 am typing more details for a fjorester mermaid AU that I am too exhausted to fully write

Fjord, Son of the Serpent, Prince of the deep, merman and heir to ukatoa

he’s been told he will one day grow up to be a mighty serpent like his father, but right now he’s just a small fry.

Actually just a surface dweller that was shipwrecked as a small child and transformed into a merman.

relationship with Father is Bad, obviously.  Ukatoa is just using him but Fjord has only known him as his father.

Avantika his betrothed

Desperate for the approval of the serpent, willing to do anything he asks

Doesn’t really care about fjord one way or another but is determined to marry him for Ukatoa

Vandran his mentor/caretaker 

because ukatoa is a giant serpent who can’t be bothered to take care of his tiny Son

Often translates for the serpent because I can’t be bothered to type one word sentences for every interaction fjord has with ukatoa

 Ukatoa king of the deep

giant snea snake coiled around a spire of stone

plans to flood the surface so he can be king of the whole world

takes shipwrecked folk and transforms them into mer creatures to serve him

plans to use fjord as a sacrifice to bring on the end of the surface world.

Fjord naturally has Daddy Issues because his dad is a big snake who doesn’t love him

Vandran knows the truth but is afraid to tell Fjord because big snake will kill him

Avantika also knows the truth but doesn’t care because she hopes to be Daddy’s second in command

Fjord has vague memories of the surface from when he was a child, and dreams of it occasionally

ukatoa tries to convince him that the surface world is cruel and dangerous, that he should never go up there

Vandran warns him that going to the surface could be dangerous (for other reasons)

Fjord surfaces in the middle of the ocean and is OBSESSED with the sky/stars.  

He’s convinced it’s another ocean.

Once he’s been to the surface he goes up a lot

Discovers all kinds of cool shit up there

the surface world has a strange quality to it that he can’t really describe/doesn’t have words for, but it’s beautiful and is full of some strange magic the deep sea lacks.

Avantika finds out about his surface trips and is a bitch about it.

Literally everything up there will one day be underwater if they succeed so who gives a shit.

One day while swimming close to shore he sees a boat for the first time.

On this boat is Jester, who is trying to run/sail away from home.

The weather turns sour, her boat capsizes and she is thrown into the ocean

Fjord rescues her, returns her to the shore 

rescue via underwater kiss to give her air

bringing her up on shore is hard for fjord (can’t breathe once he’s removed from water) but he has to save her

Congratulations fjord you’re now obsessed with this girl.

Jester meanwhile is obsessed with the merman she swears she saw before she lost consciousness.

Her tutor/friend Caleb tells her she probably imagined it, but no she’s certain.  She saw a hot guy.

She spends all her time down at the beach drawing this hot guy

these drawings are only kind of accurate

Eventually Fjord gets brave enough to come closer to her

There’s a language barrier, he doesn’t understand her and he doesn’t seem to speak, but Jester still talks enough for the both of them.

She communicates with him by drawing pictures/miming/pointing.  She still talks the whole time but fjord has no idea what she’s saying

She shows Fjord a drawing she did of him and he’s so enthralled with it he tries to take it with him but of course paper does not last underwater and he’s devastated.

good thing she has hundreds of drawings of him she can show him.

Through Jester’s art and her attempts to communicate with him, Fjord learns about COLOR

the strange quality of the surface world that he couldn’t explain was color, which he can see clearly but doesn’t really exist in the deep ocean due to lack of light.

he literally didn’t have words for it but Jester teaches him some using her paints

Jester is the color of the sky and the water and he loves that about her.

he hates the color yellow 

because it’s the color of ukatoa’s eye, he just didn’t know it was a color before this

Fjord starts to learn other surface words from Jester, they are able to communicate (poorly)

it takes her a bit to figure out his NAME is fjord and that he’s not referring to the body of water he comes out of to see her.

She gives him trinkets and talks to him while she draws and shows him her sketchbook

she absolutely interrogates him about what his dick looks like 

he does not understand lol

cue shape of water hand motion

Fjord accidentally uses a surface word (probably blue) to describe something and Vandran Knows What’s Up

Ukatoa finds out, punishes fjord by temporarily taking away his ability to breathe underwater

he says it’s to show him what living up there is like but in reality he’s just turning fjord back into a surface dweller for a moment

fjord doesn’t understand that if he was on land like that he COULD breathe

Snake Daddy demands that Fjord forget about the surface world, Fjord says he can’t, ukatoa punishes him again with pain

Fjord tries to swim to the surface again, Ukatoa’s control of him is strong

he has to mentally fight his way out of it

leaves him exhausted and delirious

swims to the surface only to be caught in a fisherman’s net and dragged to shore

Fishermen keep him tied up because holy shit they caught a merman

Jester hears about the catch and drags her bestie Caleb down to the market to find her hot boi

holy shit there he is, it’s her first time seeing all of him at once and he’s BEAUTIFUL (and very large/snakelike)

He’s fucked up and bleeding and in a trancelike state because they’re just barely keeping him wet enough to breathe

Caleb is like “holy shit that’s a whole fish person you were right”

jester is like “YEAH I TOLD YOU NOW HELP ME BREAK HIM OUT.”

Heist time, stealing Fjord away in the night and bringing him back to her castle where he lives in her bathtub lol.

don’t tell mama shhhhhh it’s a secret

They bandage him up as best as they can but he’s still really fucked up

Caleb gives him a charm that lets them all understand each other, tells jester they need a healer to help treat the fishman

jester brings in Caduceus, who heals Fjord but in the process discovers his True Nature (that he is not a fishman)

When Fjord is told this he thinks they’re lying because he only remembers being a merman

but what about your DREAMS fjord????

Jester begs caleb to help her transform fjord back into a surface dweller.

please transmutation wizard give this hot boy some legs

he manages, but he can only transform him for short periods of time.

also he’s still green

Fjord gets to experience WALKING 

and WEARING CLOTHES

Holy shit the surface has a lot of cool shit

also a lot of mean people who are shitty about him being green

but jester holds his hand the whole time and maybe it’s not so bad.

he kisses her (for technically the second time) and realizes he’s in love with her

wakes up one night coughing up water

the sea is calling and he needs to go back, he can FEEL ukatoa pulling him back

jester is devastated that he’s trying to leave but he can’t really explain to her why he has to

she wants to come with him to confront his abusive dad

caleb please make me a fish for a day :<

he thinks he’s sneaking off without her but she joins him at the last minute and he feels so good about it she’s so pretty omg

he takes her to the deep ocean, she gets to meet avantika and vandran

conflict??? this is the part im unsure about

Fjord learns The Truth, Avantika tries to kill him to fulfill the prophecy and fjord has to kill her (with jester’s help)

somehow she and fjord manage to beat ukatoa and reverse the curse placed on everyone

they all go back to the surface

happily ever after, fjord still loves the ocean but now gets to live on land as he was meant to

marries jester, who is a princess so now he gets to be a Real Prince

Caleb makes them amulets so they can be mers any time they want lol.

THEY SMOOCH THE END

[levi-my-beloved]

Birds of a Feather

Chapter one

Pairings: Canon!Levi x F!reader

Content warnings: violence, swearing

Word count: 4K

Summary: You were the most notorious criminal in the Underground City. With your organisation of highly skilled professionals, only one man could take you down. He also happened to be Humanity’s Strongest… and your ex.

A/N: asdfghjkl hello there. so, this has been on my brain for a while now, so i started this as just a drabble. what i thought would stay as just a drabble turned into this 22k+ multi chapter fic because i have zero self restraint or self respect. i’m currently finishing chapter 5 as this is being posted, but i want to keep chapters posted around once every two weeks so i can keep up with the workload. maybe once a week if i start feeling spicy. yeah plot twist this is actually the second time i’ve drafted this up. the first time i managed to get everything done and in order and then manages to delete the entire post with my huge disgusting thumbs. Genuinely felt like crying for a good half an hour.

This is also my first Levi fic! yay! lmk if it sucks and idk i’ll cry or something. nah, in all seriousness please send me criticism cuz i really want to improve and critiques are the best way.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

“How down, Raven?”

“Six feet.”

Within the dank confines of a stinking alleyway, two green capes marked with the Military Police insignia crept ever closer to the taller, run-down building upon which you and your little squad of Shadows were now perched. No sunlight illuminated your position. Not that you’d ever seen the sun, or know what it even looked like, but you based your guesses upon the pathetic rays shining through the grates littering the ceiling of the Underground City.

The language you used with your Shadows, coded words translated to:

‘How do you want them to be dealt with?’

‘Death.’

It was something developed by your late guardian and mentor, Viper. See, you all had aliases in The Nest, your criminal organisation. The leader was often referred to as The Raven, however your mentor preferred to use his own nickname, stemming from his own reputation.

Then come the aliases for your Shadows. Prongs was your second, a tall, stern looking man with the black mask of a stag settled across his features.

Then came Wolf, and you swore the first time you’d set eyes on him, you thought a titan had wandered into the city. He was enormous, all 6ft 6ins of him carved in hard muscle. Slicked back silver hair and a beard that to rival a bear. Similar to Prongs, a mask sat upon his face, resembling that of a snarling wolf.

Following him was Verdant, Scales and Diablo. Your power trio. Though their special talents lay in different professions, get these three together and they were borderline unstoppable. A white mask decorated with three broad maple leaves obscured Verdant’s pretty features, Scales sported a bronze half mask etched with a snake-like diamond pattern, whilst Diablo, your trained escort, had opted for something that accentuated her own gorgeous features, a mask of black leather arcing high onto her brow on the left side, whilst the right arced low by her jaw. Though you were already spoken for, you couldn’t deny the beauty of Diablo. She did wonders when prying information between the legs of a moaning MP.

To your left crouched the twins, Una and Leaf. Una was gifted her name by none other than you yourself, after seeing her accuracy with a rifle. A single shot was all it took, from any distance. She wore no mask, something you’d allowed simply because she’d complained about the sight obstruction when lining up a shot. You’d agreed, but only under the condition that she wore a low hood. Her fiercely protective brother Leaf had chewed you out for that, but you knew he meant well. Leaf was good at what he did, excellent, in fact. Which was part of the reason you kept him on as a Shadow. The larger part was that you were damn fond of him. Of all of them, in fact. You loved every single one of your Shadows. Every single damned member of The Nest, you adored. You were their leader, afterall.

A masked helmet of black leather, similar material to Diablo’s, perched snug upon your own features. The hooked beak and obsidian feathers of a raven decorated the necessity, covering your face and hair, though leaving your lower features visible. It was a rite of passage, for you especially, and it signalled the start of your leadership.

“Una, set up. Verdant, Prongs, roundabout. Wolf…” your eyes slid to the giant man on your right, a dark smile slicing across your mouth. “Heel.”

The boulder of a man visibly sagged, clearly disappointed at your orders whilst the others sprang into action. Prongs and Verdant leapt across the rooftops in separate directions whilst Una removed her rifle from her back, parting her heavy cloak to reveal rounds and rounds of bullets strapped across her body. Leaf nestled closer into her side, whilst the other four took a step back. It was obvious you’d all been at this for a very long time, despite the twins not looking a day older than sixteen. In fact, most of your squad was younger than you, save for Wolf and Prongs, who had served their respective roles twice previously.

Sitting back on your heels, you watched your team get to work, the warmth of pride blossoming in your chest. Whilst you knew Prongs and Wolf were already incredibly skilled, the rest had flourished under your leadership. It had been ten years since you’d witnessed MPs put a bullet through your mentor’s skull. Ten long years since you’d taken up leadership and expanded the reaches of The Nest. Honestly, you were pretty proud of yourself, and none more so than when you watched your Shadows do what they do best.

Taking care of unwanted visitors.

Una took aim, resting the butt of her rifle in the crook of her shoulder, staring down the makeshift scope. She would be ready to take care of the two soldiers if either Prongs or Verdant failed to eliminate their targets.

Speaking of which…

That kernel of pride ignited as your (E/C) eyes followed Verdant’s careful, calculating form dropping from the rooftops above the alleyway, in sync with Prong’s own movements. The two assassins swooped with the grace of a stooping hawk, the silver glint of metal caught your eye as they both brandished their blades, before sinking the steel into the necks of the two soldiers. You didn’t need to be closer to see they were both dead. Expert precision. Deadly accuracy. That was why these people were your hand-picked Shadows. And why you were the most formidable gang leader in the Underground City. Your little criminal organisation had expanded into something to rival the killcount of Kenny the Ripper. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought.

Una lowered her weapon, strapping it back in the buckles between her shoulder blades.

“Finished.” she simply stated, turning back to drop down between the shattered tiles and splintered ceiling beams that marked your entrance and exit to this lookout point.

“Rendezvous back at The Nest,” you ordered flatly, before dropping forward and into the alleyway below.

“Anything?” you ask, a brow raised behind your raven mask as you saunter over. Prongs held up two sets of blades from one of the crimson bodies now gathering dirt and grime. Useless to you as they were, but somebody would definitely find an interest in them. Verdant seemed to be struggling with the straps of whatever gear these mosquitoes used to fly around. You’d never been able to figure out how to use it, but that shit made good money when in doubt. However, your usual buyers had disappeared off the face of the city, and you’d noticed a decline in gear sales since then. Gritting your teeth, you shook your head to Verdant, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s not worth it. The thug trio haven’t been back in years. I doubt they’d return to us now,” you explain softly, prompting the girl to stop her struggles and huff defeatedly. You’re heart ached softly at the thought of him, but you pushed the feeling down.

“Here,” she muttered, handing you another rifle. It seemed to be a newer model, something of an upgrade for Una.

“You did good, Ver. I’m proud of you,” that seemed to immediately lighten the girl’s mood, her eyes shining behind her mask as her mouth widened into a toothy grin.

“Thanks Raven!” she beamed, before scampering off back to The Nest, almost forgetting to take the gun back from your outstretched hand in her haste to make it back and tell everyone she’d received a compliment from you. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence. Rather it only happened once in a blue moon…

A huffed chuckle had your head turning and eyes narrowing to your second in command.

“Can I help you?” you ask, your tone dripping with the poisonous threat of hell if he chose his next words poorly. But Prongs continued to smile ever so slightly, shaking his head.

“Not at all, Raven. It’s just, in the last few years, since you drafted her into the Shadows, she’s really come into her own,” Prongs explained simply, shrugging as she stooped to kick over the now drained corpse, hoping to find anything useful. You bristle ever so slightly. That was something you hated. Compliments. How the fuck were you supposed to respond? You tried to think back to when Viper tried to teach you simple social skills.

“Uh, yeah. She has,” you respond, keeping your features as neutral as you could as you turned away, beginning to trudge back to The Nest.

“I’m serious, Rave. You’ve done incredible things for us. You know Viper would be proud of you. I am too. But…” Prongs trailed off, clearing having something to say but not knowing how to say it.

“Go on. But what?” you pressed, wanting to hear what your second in command had to say.

“Well, don’t you think it’s a bit much? Rave, it’s been years. Eyes have started looking in our direction since those three vanished. You don’t think we should be lying low for a bit? Calming suspicions instead of rousing them?” Prongs offered gently. You knew, deep down, he was right. But some notable gang disappearing hasn’t stopped you before, and it sure as hell wouldn’t stop you now.

“I’ll talk to Scar about it,” even just the mention of your advisor, and wife’s name gave your stomach butterflies. Scarlett Obsidine, your other, and better, half. After the disappearance of a certain dark haired man, Scar was the woman who comforted you, and though you missed him dearly, your heart managed to haphazardly piece itself back together and love all over again.

“Rave, listen—“

“Let’s go,” Prongs closed his mouth, the tone of your voice stating clearly that this matter wasn’t up for discussion. Especially not with him.

⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈

“You know he’s right,” you couldn’t help but sigh when your wife’s soft tones calmed your irritated mood. Soft hands gently kneaded at the tense muscles in your shoulders, forcing them to relax as a tired moan escaped your lips. Leaning back, you peer into her shining sapphire eyes, locks of brunette framing your face as she took the sides of your cheeks in her hands and leaned down, softly pecking your lips with her own. You couldn’t help humming a smile against her mouth, reaching up to deepen the kiss, but she pulled away before you could.

“Scaaaaar…” you pout, looking up at her mischievous smirk as she winked playfully.

“(Y/N)...” Scarlett sighed, swinging her legs over your body to sink into your lap, one thumb now caressing one of the most prominent features on your face. A nasty, jagged scar ran down from the the top of your forehead, over your right eye and finishing just past your jaw bone. One (E/C) iris lighter than the other as a result of the old wound. Soft lips chase away the shadows of your past as Scarlett replaced her thumb with her mouth.

“(Y/N), I don’t want to find you dead in some alleyway because you picked a fight you couldn’t win,” a finger poked your chest as she huffed above you, feigning irritation. You roll your eyes, (E/C) landing on your gear now strung across the table. That raven helmet almost calling to you as you shook your head. Disagreeing with your wife was never a good idea, but you were feeling particularly bold this evening.

“Look. So many jobs have opened up recently. We have so many opportunities to make this life more comfortable. More jobs means more money, more money means we can afford the gate toll and actually see the world above ground. And I can finally buy you an actual ring.”. Technically, you two weren’t married. Who the fuck would be stupid enough to perform marriage ceremonies in the underground City? But, it was easier than saying you were devoted to each other in every single way.

Lightly smacking your chest, Scarlett raised herself from your lap with a hefty sigh. “One of these days (Y/N), you’re going to be captured or killed,” she said quietly, unable to meet your eyes. “And then what the hell will I do…?” Scarlett had now completely turned away from you, shoulders hunched. Running a hand down your face, you pick your sore body up from the chair, reaching her in a matter of strides.

“I can’t give this up, Scar. You know that. You knew that when you chose to be with me. You knew The Nest was always going to be my priority,” you held out your arm, hand hovering over her back, not sure whether to comfort her or let her go. The admission almost had her in tears, you could tell by the way her shoulders shook ever so gently.

“You still miss him don’t you?” It was her vulnerable, defeated tone that alerted you to the slight change of topic.

You fell silent, not really knowing how to respond. Yes, of course you missed him. You loved him more than anything. But those days are over, you knew that. You’d cried enough those following nights after his disappearance.

He was probably dead anyway.

“Of course I do,” you wouldn’t lie to her. That wasn’t fair. But you knew the truth was just as painful for her.

“Will I ever be enough? Will I ever be enough to replace him?” the sound of her voice had your heart in pieces. You loved Scarlett. You really did. But your heart wouldn’t let you love her wholly. Part of yourself will always be dedicated to that grumpy kid you’d fallen for all those years ago.

“Scar… I—”

“I know,” she whispered, stepping forward away from your outstretched grasp. “I know,” you watched as the woman you loved, and who loved you, stepped from your shared quarters, hovering in the doorway. “I’m sorry I asked,” she closed the door as she left, leaving you a frustrated, conflicted mess.

⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈

“Understood, I’ll bring them in right away. Thank you Niles,” The Commander of the MPs stood opposite Erwin, arms folded. An expression of irritation plastered on his sunken features. Erwin simply sighed, realising Niles was wanting to stay for this seemingly impromptu meeting. With a nod of his head, a cadet rushed off to find the two soldiers mentioned in their little conversation. Being Commander of the Scouts often had its perks, like having cadets around to run errands for him.

Niles cleared his throat, taking a seat on the green leather sofa within Erwin’s office. “You sure he’d help us? I mean, it wasn’t too long ago he actually decided killing you was probably a bad idea.”—he raised a thin brow, peering at Erwin with barely concealed suspicion—“I’m pretty sure the Underground City would be the last place he’d want to return.” a knock at the door cut their conversation short, both turning their heads as Erwin called;

“Enter.”

Hange was the first to make her presence known, poking her head in as she opened the door. A smile adorned the slightly dishevelled section commander, her hair sticking up in all directions. Clearly she had been in the middle of something when Erwin requested her presence.

“You asked to see us, Erwin?” her eyes sparkling with curiosity behind her glasses as she stepped through the door.

“Tch, just make it quick, I have shit to do,” the monotone voice of Levi behind her made Erwin pinch the bridge of his nose. How many times has he told him not to talk to him like that?

“Yes, come in and make yourselves comfortable.” Hange immediately took up a seat next to Niles on the sofa, Levi preferring to stand against the now closed door, arms folded. Erwin’s sharp eyes shifted to Niles, an indication for the MP Commander to speak.

“Well, no point in beating around the bush. We’ve received an anonymous tip about some criminal gang that’s been plaguing my soldiers in the Underground City.” Levi visibly stiffened at the mention of his old home. His jaw tensed in anticipation. There would be only one reason he would be called into such a discussion, and the answer was a firm no.

Without his permission, his mind flashed back to a (H/C) girl, her face etched with that ever mischievous smirk. He quelled the thoughts as quickly as he could. He needed his wits with him, and allowing his mind to wander back to what he’d left behind wouldn’t help anything. Besides, the likelihood of you being alive was close to none.

“Section Commander, I don’t suppose you would have heard of the group but Captain Levi here surely would have done. The Nest.” Niles continued, now eyeing Levi to gage his reaction. And for a man whose emotions were usually on a tight leash, this seemed to be what cracked his impenetrable walls. His eyes flew wide open, frantically searching between Niles and Erwin. They couldn’t be serious. The Nest? That was where Farlan and Isobel used to—

Shit, he really needed to keep his thoughts at bay. But what he did know was that The Nest was an impenetrable fortress of criminal activity. Trying to mess with them was suicide.

“Judging by your reaction, I’m going to assume you are familiar with them, Levi,” Erwin’s surprisingly calm tone eased the growing tension in the room. Taking a subtle breath to calm himself, Levi’s eyes narrowed to his commander.

“Yeah. I know of it. Why?” it was a rhetorical question, he already knew why, but he wanted to hear it from Erwin himself. Hange looked incredibly confused, looking between the men in the office, trying to glean something, anything, about what the hell was going on.

“The Nest? Why are they so bad?” she asked, not afraid to show how completely oblivious she is to anything that doesn’t concern titans or science. Erwin gestured to Levi.

“Levi? Care to explain? You probably know more than myself and Niles combined,” though his voice seemed kind, there was a slight edge to his deep tones. One that didn’t go unnoticed by Levi.

A heavy silence filled the room as the Captain wracked his brain for all the information he could think of regarding the organisation. It seemed like hours before he finally spoke.

“Well, you got one thing right. The Nest is a criminal organisation. A nasty one at that. Merciless bastards. Whether you’re a soldier or a citizen, they don’t give a shit. They’ll leave you a broken, bloodied mess in the street. I don’t know much about their leader. Only that he took over from the previous one around ten-ish years ago. Since then, they’ve expanded their shitty little gang and taken over an entire section of the city,” he explained, poison lacing his tone. It wasn’t that he was above the whole gang thing, oh no. It was more the state Farlan would be in before he left to meet whoever the fuck led that group of demons. He’d never seen his friend so anxious. So afraid.

“You never met him? Their leader?” Erwin inquired, lacing his hands together on the desk in front of him. Levi scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“If I had, I would tell you. But I know he’s smart. And not the good kind of smart. The kind of smart where he would always be ten steps ahead of you. He has a small group of trusted criminals surrounding him at all times, called his Shadows. They’ll be the ones to look out for,” Despite his voice sounding bored, Levi’s heart was racing. They couldn’t seriously be thinking of facing The Nest, could they? But something in the expressions of both Niles and Erwin told him he was wrong. Dead wrong.

“They’ve been picking off my soldiers. Always in the same places as well. I was going to leave it, just tell them to avoid certain areas until this tip. Their next job. We know what it is,” Niles interjected, looking down to the floor, his own mind a whirlwind.

“And you want to intercept them. The same way you did with me, right?” Levi finished through gritted teeth. This was absurd. There was no way they could pick them all off. Unless… that wasn’t the goal. Levi’s grey eyes widened slightly, realising what they wanted to do. Yep, this was total suicide. Hange clapped her hands together almost excitedly, as if she was also able to read Erwin’s mind.

“You want to capture him! The leader! Ah! This all makes so much sense now, I was starting to wonder why I was here,” the scientist mused almost to herself, before jumping to her feet. “This is the perfect opportunity to test some of the concept traps I have in mind. Obviously for titans they’d need to be much, MUCH bigger. And of course a few modifications would have to be made so they could adapt to size and body type but oooooooh this is so exciting! I’ll start right away!'' Without allowing anybody to get a word in edgeways, Hange dashed back to her lab to begin her preparations.

“Thank you Erwin, the Military Police will remember this,” Niles said, before he too was rising from his seat. Throwing Levi an unsure glance, he made his way towards the door, only to be shoved into the hallway by Levi, who promptly closed the door behind him.

“Don’t.” he simply said, turning back to Erwin who was peering at him, his expression puzzled. Levi rolled his eyes again, clearly having to clarify what he meant. “Don’t pursue them. It’s suicide,” The Commander’s expression relaxed slightly in understanding.

“We don’t have a choice, Levi. Not only are hundreds of MPs being slaughtered down there, but relationships between the Scouts and the MPs are strenuous at best. It would be in our best interests to—“

“Bullshit.”

Erwin sighed again, having to hold his tongue. Snapping at Levi now for his language would only rile up the man more.

“Levi, we already have a plan in motion. There are soldiers down there now meeting whoever gave us that anonymous tip to further discuss the job The Nest has taken. It’ll be fine, but you’re going to have to trust me.” Erwin’s eyes bore into Levi’s own, the man once again asking his Captain to trust him in a risky call he’s made. Levi’s done it so many times before, why was it so difficult now?

It took yet another pregnant silence before Levi eventually yielded.

“Fine, but don’t be surprised when we’re once again forced to retreat with our tails between our legs.” it was a savage comment, but one that Erwin didn’t take to heart as he watched the raven haired man leave. Yes, this was a risk, but all his risks so far had worked out fairly well. There was no reason why this one would fail. No reason at all.

Levi leant against the door to Erwin’s office, looking down the hallway before letting loose a long breath. Not only would he have to go toe to toe with The Raven, but he also had to face so much of his past he’d wanted to forget. Fuck, this was a terrible idea. Why did Erwin always have to gamble? It was exhausting for everyone else involved.

Folding his arms, the shorter man strode back to his own office, lost in thought the entire way. Would he see you again? Were you even alive? Did you know just how much he had missed you. Just how much he’d wanted to see you again. To hold you again.

Did you know he’d looked for you? How his heart shattered over and over again each time he found no trace of you. He’d never accepted you were gone. Always holding onto that thorn of hope that maybe, just maybe, you’d survived.

Collapsing in his chair behind his desk, Levi unlocked the bottom draw and gently pulled it out. He delicately picked out a small, ebony bird feather you’d crafted into a quill pen. Even though neither of you knew how to write, you knew back then how much he had wanted to learn despite never voicing it directly. All those nights spent copying out basic letters from discarded newspapers and wanted posters. You always had this way of reading his mind.

The smallest fond smile crept across his usually bored face. God he missed you. It had been years and he still missed you like he only lost you yesterday.

[picturebookmakers]

Axel Scheffler

In this post, Axel takes us on a journey through his art studio and career. As well as sharing wonderful development work from some of his much-loved picturebooks, he shows us unseen sketchbook pages, early illustration commissions, etchings he made as a student, and his recent work to educate children about the coronavirus.

Visit Axel Scheffler’s website

Axel: I’m not really sure how many books I’ve illustrated in the 30+ years that I’ve been working. Over 150. I mostly work for the UK market, but occasionally I do books with German publishers. Not picturebooks though, so nothing that collides with the co-edition market.

Each of the boxes you see here contains one of my books: the sketches, illustrations, dummies, alternate versions of covers, everything.

I organised these boxes with Liz, my assistant, to have all the main books there so we can find things for exhibitions. There’s still lots of drawings in these boxes which aren’t sorted yet. Liz is such a great help, but it’s very difficult for me to keep on top of everything. I think I would probably need two Lizes, or perhaps three.

So yes, I don’t really know where to begin... I’ve got endless sketchbooks and little drawings on paper. I’ve got some really old sketchbooks I could show you.

Shall we start with The Gruffalo?

My early sketches of the Gruffalo were thought by my editor to be too scary for small children. So I had to make him a bit rounder and more ‘cuddly’. Initially, I‘d also thought that all the animals would be wearing clothes, as they often do in picturebooks. But Julia had different ideas, and to be honest I was relieved. How would I have dressed the snake?

Here’s some spreads from the dummy...

I tried a lot of alternate covers for this book; I think there were twelve in total. There’s some where the Gruffalo doesn’t even feature on the cover.

My latest book with Julia is called ‘The Smeds and The Smoos’. It was quite nice to work on because it’s so different from the other books we’ve done together. The text is a bit like a mixture between Dr Seuss and Lewis Carol; it has this nonsense element. But it’s basically Romeo and Juliet in outer space.

It’s an alien story, so I didn’t have to draw any rabbits or squirrels for a change, and I could invent more. I had more freedom. But like always, I got bored with drawing the same characters over and over again. But that’s picturebooks.

There was quite a lot of development work in the case of this book. But when it’s a story about a fox or a squirrel, I don’t do this kind of stuff. Over the years, it’s become much quicker and easier working on my books. I do far less research than I used to. Now I generally just do a quick pencil sketch then go straight to artwork.

Sometimes I have to start again because things go wrong though. This was a finished piece that was abandoned. I think I suddenly thought that the rocket was far too big or something. I do that; I work on something for ages, and then I suddenly look at it from a distance and realise that something needs redoing.

Did you spot the little Gruffalo in this picture? Since ‘The Snail and the Whale’, I’ve hidden a Gruffalo in each of my books with Julia (not ‘The Ugly Five’ though).

For almost all of the books Julia and I have done together, our editor has been Alison Green. We’re an old established team. And I’ve always worked with the publisher Kate Wilson; I followed her from Macmillan to Scholastic, and then to Nosy Crow. Julia moved from Macmillan to Scholastic, and decided to stay there. So Julia and I have some of our joint titles with Macmillan and some with Scholastic. Julia does books with other illustrators for Macmillan, and I illustrate other books for Nosy Crow.

People often ask me which of the books I’ve done with Julia is my favourite. It’s quite hard to choose, but I enjoyed working on ‘The Smartest Giant in Town’. I liked the way I could do a crazy world with animals, giants, fairytale characters, everything mixed together without anyone caring or questioning it. I’ll show you a few things from the box...

For this book, the cover was changed at the last minute. The original design had the title written on a poster stuck on a brick wall, but the sales people said they wanted a landscape, so I did another one. Years later, they used the original design for a new paperback edition, so it wasn’t completely wasted in the end.

I mentioned my endless sketchbooks earlier. I’ll show you a few of them. This was mainly me playing around without thinking about what I was doing; it wasn’t a conscious thing.

I haven’t looked at these sketchbooks for ages. It was such a long time ago. I don’t work in sketchbooks like this anymore, and I no longer doodle. But for fun, I make illustrated envelopes for friends.

I often think about doing a book with just pictures, but I’m always too busy doing other things. Posthumously, perhaps there will be time to do this. I’d also love to experiment and be more spontaneous; it’s been my dream for decades to do something completely different. But when I receive a book project, I always feel under pressure to finish it, and I’m always late with everything, so I end up doing it the way I’ve always done it.

This is my drawing table, which is and always has been too small and too messy. I think I have to accept it will always be this way.

I use Saunders Waterford paper for my illustrations. It’s funny how we all have our special paper. My rough sketches are often quite small, so I have them blown up to the correct size. Then I trace the sketches on a lightbox onto my watercolour paper. After that, I draw the outlines in black ink with a dip pen. I colour everything with Ecoline inks using brushes, and then coloured pencils on top of it (I use Faber Polychromos and Prismacolour crayons). I might then need to redraw some of the black lines, or use some white gouache for highlights.

I studied History of Art in Hamburg, but left before graduating. I realised this wasn’t what I was good at; I’m not an academic.

Then I had to do my alternative service as conscientious objector. Sixteen months. There was still conscription then; that’s how old I am. I worked with mentally ill people in their homes. It was during this time that I had a friend studying ceramics at Bath Academy of Art in England. I went to visit her. I really didn’t know what else to do, so I thought maybe I could move to Bath and go to the art school. So this is what I did. The course was Visual Communications, so it was design, printmaking, photography, all that stuff. But I realised I only wanted to do illustration.

I’d gone to art college hoping to learn something. I don’t think that necessarily happened, but drawing intensively for three years was, I think, what I had needed to do. I don’t remember actually finishing any projects though.

Here’s some drawings from my student sketchbooks. I did lots of observational drawing back then, which I don’t anymore. I did it then because they told us to. I’m an obedient person!

While I was a student, I did an exchange in New York: Cooper Union Art College for three months. These drawings are of Jewish immigrants, meeting for coffee. It was 1984, so many of them were still alive; refugees from Germany or Austria. I heard them speaking German, so that’s how I knew.

Sketchbooks are such a good way of memorising things. Nobody really knows about these sketchbooks; I used to take them to interviews, but they’ve been hidden away for years.

After I graduated, I moved to London and took my portfolio around. My art teacher had suggested I should do this to get work, so that’s what I did. In those days, you had to ring them and ask to come around. I got two commissions straight away, and it’s been busy ever since, really. I’ve always had something to do.

Here’s some of my early commissions. Starting from 1985, I guess. Very pointy noses...

I did so much of this kind of work. It was a good way of earning money quickly. Occasionally, I still do editorial. I did some Brexit drawings for the remain campaign. Sadly, it didn’t help. Maybe I wrecked everything!

I’ll say a few words about the KIND book... 38 wonderful artists donated a picture to illustrate some of the many ways children can be kind. Such as sharing their toys or helping people from other countries to feel welcome.

One pound from each book sold goes to the Three Peas charity, which supports refugees from war-torn countries. It’s been a big success so far, and Three Peas has received a lot of money from sales in the UK and co-editions.

I’d quite like to do the UNKIND book next! I think illustrators would probably enjoy that, but I don’t imagine it would sell very well.

And now for something completely different! Some etchings I made when I was a student.

People often ask me which illustrators I’m inspired by. I don’t seek any direct influence on my work, but I’ve always said that Tomi Ungerer had the greatest influence on my approach to illustration. Although his style is quite different to mine, this humour and wackiness is something that has always appealed to me. And the details.

William Steig is someone I got into later, when I was already illustrating. And Edward Gorey of course. And Saul Steinberg. I think the Czech artist Jiří Šalamoun is wonderful. And I like Eva Lindström from Sweden a lot. She’s so great.

Okay, to finish with I’ll talk about the coronavirus work I’ve been doing...

I asked myself what I could do as a children’s illustrator to inform, as well as entertain, my readers here and abroad about the coronavirus. So I was glad when Nosy Crow asked me to illustrate a book on the subject. I think it’s extremely important for children and families to have access to reliable information in this unprecedented crisis.

You can download the free digital book in English here, and in over 60 other languages here.

I also wanted to do something light-hearted to cheer people up, and I thought, “What if I imagine some of our characters in corona situations?” Julia liked the idea and wrote rhymes for the new scenes. This was really more about entertainment than serious information.

Artwork and verse © Axel Scheffler and Julia Donaldson 2020. Based on characters from ‘The Gruffalo’s Child’ (2004), ‘Charlie Cook’s Favourite Book’ (2005), ‘The Smartest Giant in Town’ (2002), and ‘The Gruffalo’ (1999) — © Macmillan Children’s Books.

And here’s one more thing: my ‘letter from lockdown’. On The Children’s Bookshow website, you’ll find lockdown letters from lots of other wonderful authors and illustrators.

Illustrations © Axel Scheffler. Post edited by dPICTUS.

Buy this picturebook

The Gruffalo

Julia Donaldson & Axel Scheffler

Macmillan Children’s Books, UK, 1999

‘A mouse took a stroll through the deep dark wood. A fox saw the mouse and the mouse looked good.’

Walk further into the deep dark wood, and discover what happens when a quick-witted mouse comes face to face with an owl, a snake... and a hungry Gruffalo!

‘The Gruffalo’ has become a bestselling phenomenon across the world. This award-winning rhyming story of a mouse and a monster is now a modern classic, and will enchant children for years to come.

PUBLISHED IN THE FOLLOWING LANGUAGES & DIALECTS

Afrikaans

Albanian

Arabic

Australian

Azerbaijani

Basque

Belarusian

Bengali

Breton

Bulgaria

Catalan

Chinese (Simplified)

Chinese (Traditional)

Corsu

Croatian

Czech

Danish

Doric

Dundonian

Dutch

English

Esperanto

Estonian

Faroese

Farsi

Finnish

French

Frisian

Gaelic

Galician

Georgian

German

Glasgow Scots

Greek

Guernésiais

Hebrew

Hindi

Hungarian

Iceland

Indonesian

Irish

Italian

Jèrriais

Kazakh

Kölsch

Korean

Latin

Latvian

Lithuanian

Low German

Lowland Scots

Luxembourgish

Macedonian

Maltese

Manx Gaelic

Maori

Marathi

Mexican Spanish

Mongolian

Norwegian

Orcadian Scots

Polish

Portuguese

Portuguese (Brazil)

Romanian

Russian

Sami

Schwabisch

Serbian

Sesotho

Setswana

Shetland Scots

Slovakian

Slovenian

Spanish

Swedish

Swiss German

Tamil

Thai

Turkish

Ukrainian

US English

Vietnamese

Welsh

Xhosa

Zulu

Buy this picturebook

The Smeds and The Smoos

Julia Donaldson & Axel Scheffler

Alison Green Books, UK, 2019

The Smeds (who are red) never mix with the Smoos (who are blue). So when a young Smed and Smoo fall in love, their families disapprove.

But peace is restored and love conquers all in this happiest of love stories. There’s even a gorgeous purple baby to celebrate!

PUBLISHED IN THE FOLLOWING LANGUAGES

Afrikaans

Catalan

Croatian

Dutch

English

Finnish

French

German

Hebrew

Hungarian

Italian

Korean

Luxenbourghish

Polish

Russian

Slovenian

Spanish

Swedish

Turkish

Ukrainian

Buy this picturebook

Kind

Alison Green, Axel Scheffler & 38 illustrators

Alison Green Books, UK, 2019

Imagine a world where everyone is kind; how can we make that come true? With gorgeous pictures by a host of top illustrators, KIND is a timely, inspiring picturebook about the many ways children can be kind, from sharing their toys and games, to helping those from other countries feel welcome.

One pound from the sale of each printed copy will go to the Three Peas charity, which gives vital help to refugees from war-torn countries.

PUBLISHED IN THE FOLLOWING LANGUAGES

Bulgarian

Catalan

Chinese (Simplified)

Chinese (Traditional)

English

French

German

Greek

Hebrew

Italian

Korean

Netherlands

Portuguese (Brazil)

Romanian

Spanish

Swedish

Turkish

Vietnamese

[ckret2]

So a lot of care goes into your writing (I assume) and it seems like you do a lot of research. I was wondering how you conduct your research, what kind of sites you look for, how you narrow done what your looking for, etc, if you wouldn’t mind sharing?

It honestly depends on what I’m looking for! Like, I work better when I have specific examples, so I’m gonna ramble to you about one thing I looked up today:

When Ghidorah hooked up to a radio station, I wanted it to be an actual real world radio station so that I could listen to the station online and go “yeah, here are the songs they’re listening to.” Because that’s a lot better than me, whose sum total of Spanish knowledge comes from a couple years of very spotty Duolingo practice, trying to guess what kind of songs play on actual Mexican radio stations.

Based on prior research I already knew that the fictional Isla de Mara is basically straight out east from the Rio Grande, next to the state Tamaulipas, so I got on Google Maps, scrolled around to where the Grande dumps into the Gulf, and looked for the city nearest the coast that looked sizable enough to have a radio station (i.e., the one closest to the coast that has a big name). And that ended up being Matamoros:

Here’s a pro tip: if you’re trying to find info about something in a non-English-speaking country, you’re probably going to find a lot more reliable resources a lot more easily if you actually google for that info in the language that’s spoken in that country. If you don’t know the language, Google Translate it. When you find the page you want, Google Translate it back. Yes, you’re gonna lose some nuance and some of the translations will be wonky, but it’ll still probably give you better info than if you’re googling for English pages about something in, like, Indonesia or wherever.

(Can you tell Indonesia is also on the list of places I’ve been researching! Do y’all wanna read the best myth I’ve ever read in my life? It features a snake named Stupid Boy and a misunderstanding worthy of an Abbott & Costello skit. I love it and I’ve only read a Wikipedia summary of it. And a Google Translated version of the Indonesian Wikipedia version of the story, which is 20% wilder. This has absolutely nothing to do with what I was trying to research.)

So I plugged “radio station” into Google Translate, got the Spanish, googled “estaciones de radio matamoros tamaulipas,” and clicked on the very first result because it’s a streaming site, and look at the options. All the FM stations are out. All the AM stations that don’t have genres listed, I’m pushing to the bottom of the list because I don’t wanna listen to each individual one trying to find out if they actually play music or not. The station that gives its genre as “noticias” I ignore because I’m not here for news, I’m here for music. There are two stations that have “balada/grupera/mexicano/ranchera” listed for their genres, and these I do know are music genres due to Prior Research, because yes I had to do research to find that out because I don’t know crap about Mexican music genres but I’m sure gonna learn.

And also while I’m at it I look up “balada” and “grupera” on wikipedia because I don’t know what those genres are, and now I know that “balada” is just Latin ballad, and more significantly I know from one single line on Wikipedia that balada is partially distinguishable from the bolero genre it spawned from because ballads usually have more direct straightforward romantic lyrics whereas boleros are generally more subtle/metaphorical, which, okay! What am I going to do with this information? I don’t know! Possibly nothing! But because I read the Wikipedia page it’s now a fact that lives inside my head! Ballads are straightforward about the romance! That’s a distinguishing feature!

There’s pro tip #2 on research: when there’s a subject you need to know, seriously, just go to wikipedia and read up on it and start clicking on all the links on the page you’re on and absorb the knowledge. You might use none of it, or it might end up super important. The fic Mafic exists because when I was writing Gold Gilt on Molten Basalt Ghidorah licked Rodan and I needed to know what he’d taste like, so I looked up igneous rocks to find out what minerals are in them, and “feldspar” was on the list, so I said he tasted like feldspar, and then I kept reading the page and found out there was a difference between intrusive and extrusive igneous rock, with “extrusive” meaning the rock formed on the surface rather than inside/under the volcano, and it said “basalt” is common extrusive rock, and well okay then obviously any rock that makes up Rodan’s hide is going to be extrusive, and “basalt” is a word which I have heard before which means readers have probably heard it before, so bam now he’s made out of basalt. … And then doing more research on volcanoes in subsequent weeks I find out that basalt is a common extrusive igneous rock from volcanoes with mafic lava, which are typically short dome-shaped volcanoes that ooze rather than tall pointy volcanoes that go boom, but Rodan’s volcano is definitely tall and pointy and goes boom, and whoops I hecked up. And now because I looked up mafic and felsic volcanoes, I made up a whole-ass goddamn set of Rodan subspecies, and my worldbuilding is richer for it, even though mafic & felsic lava wasn’t relevant to the info I was looking for when I found it out. And these are things learned gradually, over several weeks of looking up one tiny volcano detail for Rodan at a time and then reading three more Wikipedia pages in the process. Do I understand 70% of what I read? I sure don’t, because I’m neither a chemist nor a geologist. Do I make use of the 30% I do understand? I sure do! And that makes it worth it.

So back to the radio.

So there are two radio stations on this site that play music, so I click on the first one. And what do you know, I get a radio stream and it’s playing music! That’s it research done I got what I’m looking for. I bookmark the station and listen to it from time to time to like, absorb the sound, so that I can describe it in fic when I need to. (Admittedly, when I finally did describe it in fic it was “confusing noise???” because I was writing from the perspective of a couple creatures that have never heard human music before—but as they adjust to the sound any descriptions of it will, like, reflect what it actually sounds like.)

So that was a week or two ago. Today, I’m trying to write a fic where actual humans are hearing that same radio station, which means they can probably like, actually understand what songs are playing. So I listen to the station and try to pick out lyrics to google so I can find out the titles of the songs. (I am told by Google Translate that the Spanish word for lyrics is “letra,” but I seem to get about the same results whether my search term is “lyrics” or “letra.”) But the thing is, I suck at picking out lyrics in English, which I actually speak, and duolingo does not prepare you for the challenge of picking out individual words from balada as they’re singing and you’re trying to parse two words inside your head when the next three words come and you forget the first two words and then you forget the whole phrase and fifteen seconds have gone by and the only word you picked out was “mañana” and that’s not enough lyrics to google. So I recorded 20-odd minutes of the station so that I could listen to the same lines over and over until I picked out a few words well enough to google. And I’ve now picked out… two lyrics that let me identify two songs! 

Pro tip #3: research is slow sometimes.

pro tip #4: if you’re trying to decipher spanish lyrics from a live radio station maybe like ask if any of your friends know more spanish than you and don’t have anything better to do with their evening than help you google lyrics.

So uh the tl;dr is research is a lot of Google and a lot of Wikipedia. If I was writing, like, an actual novel or something that I planned on publishing or putting before an audience bigger than… *checks notes on fics* a hundred people, then it would also be a lot of books and a lot of finding people from the actual cultures I’m trying to write about to ask them about whatever subject I’m writing about; but eventually you’ve gotta balance out the effort vs the rewards, and hauling ass to the library to spend five days doing research for a fic I’m gonna write in two hours and post the night I wrote it is a time sink that my ADHD and I lack the coordination and attention span to manage.

But hey here’s my last pro tip: assume you don’t know things, unless you know that you already know them. Like, if you’re going to drop a fish in a volcano, you probably assume that you know what that smoke is going to look like, because, generally, you know what smoke looks like, don’t you? But unless you’ve already seen a fish fall in a volcano, don’t assume that. Assume that you don’t know what the smoke of a lava-cooked fish looks like. Look it up. If you can’t find a result, look up a fish in a fire instead because that’s the next closest thing. Some smoke is whitish and some is black and if you want to describe that smoke you’ve gotta have seen it to know which it’s gonna be.

And here’s where “assume nothing” gets really important: if you’re gonna have a giant pteranodon make glass in his volcano, you’re probably going to assume that the volcano will be hot enough to actually melt the glass, because volcanoes are literally so hot they melt rocks. So it’s def hot enough for glass, right? Don’t assume that. Look it up. When you do you’ll find out that lava is actually approximately 500°C too cool to melt sand into glass. You’ll also find out that lava is too cool to melt the very rocks that go into lava, and you’ll spend four hours obsessively googling lava to find out how the hell magma is formed if it’s not actually hot enough to be liquid. (The answer: water mixed with the rocks lowers the melting point; and the drop in the extreme pressure when rocks move upward in the mantle also lowers the melting point; until the melting point is reduced to the actual temperature of the rock. I found this out while trying to write about a pteranodon making glass.)

And that’s it that’s how I do research. To answer your specific questions: I don’t concern myself with “what kind of sites” I look for because the sites that I’m gonna look at are the first results that pop up when I google a question, and if the first results don’t have the answer, then I click on the next results, and the next results, until I find the site that’s got it. I don’t “narrow down” what I’m looking for—if anything, what I do is the exact opposite of “narrowing down” what I’m looking for, I start with one question and then I broaden it to read about a half dozen tangentially-related concepts because that tangential info will probably be useful and I won’t know that until it’s in my brain percolating. If you want to know One Specific Fact and you look up that One Specific Fact and immediately leave, then you fail to learn the Fifteen Related Facts that are super important to the overall topic you’re writing about but that you never knew to ask about because you were only looking for that One Specific Fact.

Feel free to ask for clarification. I went stream-of-consciousness as hell on this ask.

[nicholay1124]

# Who is / isn't Jew in biblical term? (Ver.8)

‘Jew' in English language is today used very widely without knowing its true meaning. So, many people, even Jews don't understand properly its origin. English bibles translated 'Yehudi (species of Yehud)' as "Jew". That's the problem.

Therefore, I have to explain you what 'Yehudi' is really in Biblical sense, so that you should know the difference among 'Yehudi' & Jew & Children of Israel.

<'Yehudi'? Or People of Judah? Not Children of Israel?>

The point is :

"Why nobody called people of Judah as 'Yehudim' until the time of Babylonian invasion?"

... If you believe that 'Yehudi' is purely Judah's descendant, it would be strange. Many people & Jews assume it's same. But in reality, not so. Such an example exists in the Bible.

For instance, Benjamin (son of Jacob) & "Ben Yamin" are not same. If you read the episode of Shimei in 2 Samuel 16:5-13 & 19:16-23, you'll know how to be used the phrase "Ben Yamin". It never literally means biological son of Benjamin. It's a title of brave for justice. Same is 'Yehudi' & Sons of Judah. It is distinct how & when to use 'Yehudim' or 'Bani / 'Am / Enashim / Ish Yehudah'.

"Hanani, one of my brothers, been arrived with 'mankind' from Judah (Hbr: Enashim mi Yehudah), and I (Nehemiah) was continuously questioning them about the remnant of Yehudim (Hbr: Ha Yehudim) who had survived out of the exile and about Jerusalem." [Nehemiah 1:2 (my translation from Hebrew)]

... Interestingly, people from Judah is described 'Enosh (nuanced "weak mortal Human")' against 'Ha Yehudim" the super Human.

In the Old Testament (OT; Tanakh), people of Judah is always written 'Bani (sons) / 'Am (people) / Ish (man) Yehudah' as same as "Children of Israel (Bani Israel)". 'Enashim' is rarely used due to its nuance. So Nehemiah 1:2 looks strange for frequent Hebrew Bible readers. Not normal case. It's not that people of Judah asked people of Judah.

So it's clear that Yehudites are not people of Judah.

If you believe it's same, I'd say why people from Judah didn't say in Nehemiah 1:3 that "we" are suffering when Nehemiah had asked them about "Ha Yehudim". It indicates that "Ha Yehudim" are at least not direct category of Judah or another specific group there, right?

Look moreover at spellings.

1, Yehudi : Y + H + W + D + Y (Yehud + Y; Species of Yehud)

2, Yehudah (Judah) : Y + H + W + D + H (actually, Jehovah including D: Dedication, Love, something Special, chosen)

... The critical difference is that "Yehudi" doesn't have Jehovah, but Judah has it. Not only spellings. The tribe of Esau is made by Judith (Yehudith) the Canaanite while Judah left his sinful brothers who cruelly wanted to kill Joseph and tried to build family with Canaanite women but failed under Jehovah's interfering and subsequently made kids with Tamar (Genesis 38) who would later become the royal line for David.

I quoted above the name of Judith from Genesis 37:26. She is the key role of this issue. Here I put a critical verse for it.

<True language for the Holy Text>

... 2 King 18 narratives that Hezekiah's 3 agents asked Rabshakeh not to speak "Yehudith" but Aramaic. That's strange. CSB translated it "Hebrew", but 'Ha 'Avri' never occur in this verse. It's "Yehudith".

Rabshakeh is a royal spokesman from King of Assyria. He should know Aramaic but not Hebrew, IF YOU BELIEVE THAT HEBREW IS THE ORIGINAL LANGUAGE OF JEWS. So now raises the question.

Why Assyrian originated person can speak "Jew's language"?

If you believe that "Judaean / Hebrew" is the only one language for so-called Jewish or Israelites, this belief would be wrong. Rabshakeh exactly can speak this Judaean (Read 2 King 18:26-28). So let's see the spelling of Judith the wife of Esau.

... Surprising? Yes, it's completely same! Read also Nehemiah 13:23-24.

... See that Yehudim's language is Judith! This translation "Hebrew" is totally wrong.

So what is language of Judith? It's the Canaanite language.

Historically, Canaanites are Phoenician whose activity place was through Mediterranean to Aegean Seas (Check also Numbers 13:29, Deuteronomy 1:7, Joshua 5:1). And Paleo-"Hebrew" is the oldest written language for the Jewish Bible (Tanakh). What is Paleo-Hebrew? It's a variant of Phoenician! So you obtained the answer now.

"Yehudith" = Judith's = Canaanite = Phoenician = Paleo-"Hebrew" = Jew's language

So it's normal that Assyrian tribe may speak Phoenician.

Then, these factors strongly prove that the author(s) of Tanakh should be the Canaanite / Phoenician tribe. Therefore, "original Hebrew language" never existed. Seeing Abraham & Isaac's stance "Never take Canaanites wives", it is impossible that Jehovah's people who believes and follows this tradition would wish to write own holy text from god in Canaanite language!

On the other side, today's so-called Hebrew language is actually Aramaic-linked variant. So it's normal, too that people of Israel can understand Aramaic. In fact, it was Aramaic which had been a common language among Semitic people because Abraham's clan is originally Chaldean. Babylonian Talmud is written after exile by Aramaic with Mishnah "Hebrew" which is actually Canaanite based.

Then, you might be harsh to say that Esau's tribe is the true "Jewish people"? My answer is "kinda yes". Let's analyze it further.

<Conditions of Yehudi; Judith & her background>

Finally, you know that oldest Jewish language is actually coming from the tribe of Judith who is Esau's wife. If you carefully read in Hebrew about her linkages, you may know what it is exactly.

First of all, the word 'Judith' means "praised". Then, Esau & she later changed own names to Edom ("Red"; or Adam) & Oholibamah ("Tent / Dwelling / Home of high place"). According to these factors, we may imagine that Judith is a woman of high-rank among her clan.

The question "Judith is really Oholibamah?" is later confirmed by her parent name Anah & Beeri.

The point we should focus on is that Anah the parent of Oholibamah / Judith (Yehudith) is mentioned both as son & daughter! (Genesis 36:2, 14, 20, 24) Torah's author is showing this symbolism of Elohim ("Creator" God) model who have 2 genders. The original Adam in Genesis 1:27 was designed as male & female (because he was God's copy). Unity of 2 pairs.

This symbolism is used also for righteous king Hezekiah (Hbr: Yuhizeqiyahu) who miraculously could restore Israel & Judah to unite each other. His mother's name is Abih ("Father of Ya") / Abi ("My father").

So the Holy text readers in Hebrew well know this type of hint that the author of Torah used to drop.

Adam & Eve (Hbr: Havah) ate the fruits from forbidden tree and started to cover own self by tree leaves (Genesis 3:7, 3:21). Esau was also covered full of red hair like coat (read later the meaning of Seir: same concept) in the birth moment (Genesis 25:25). Both are biblically sinful. However, Esau rejected his sinful fathers & their traditions by bitter emotion from Spirit (Hbr: Ruah; unlike Nephesh, this type of Spirit is God-associated) and married the daughter of Beeri / Anah who has inner female & male. Then, his clan became "Edom / Adam".

... Interesting?

*Condition of Yehudi : Deny own sinful family & traditions for justice *Condition of Yehudi : Godly Spirit to hate the Evil & unfairness

When Esau had being born, Jacob (Hbr: Yaaqob) was grasping his heel (Hbr: 'Aqeb). This scene recalls us Genesis 3:15 ;

"Seed (Hbr : Zera) of Woman / Mother shall seek to crash Snake's head and Seed of Snake shall aim to attack the heel"

This destiny of twin is exactly planned by Jehovah against Jacob & Esau (Genesis 25:23). In fact, they got separated by the conflict & jealousy due to Isaac's discrimination.

Grasping the heel of Esau reflects the nature of Jacob as a Seed of Snake, so Esau should be a Seed of Woman. But he is a male. Elohim model!

*Condition of Yehudi : Having male & female (inner selves, names, roles; not literally)

Then, he became "Edom (Adam + vow letter; true Adam?)" to reject the old name Esau ("hairy") which his sinful father Isaac had given him and his Canannite wife Judith (Yehudith; the first one of "Yehudi") became the "tabernacle / dwelling of higher place".

*Condition of Yehudi : Erasing the birth name

This Species of "Yehudi" is the Seed of restored sinless Adam with unity of 2 pairs (female & male, left & right handed, etc) who have the power to crash Evil.

*Condition of Yehudi : No original sin or fixed (Godly person who love harmony and avoid sins)

Note that it was Esau who has forgiven Jacob. The right of inheritance for sinful tribe is not important for him. Red haired mighty man prefers Red foods to satisfy himself (Genesis 25:25-30) and became true "Red (Edom / Adam)" by rejecting own family and marrying the foreign race.

*Condition of Yehudi : Red-haired *Condition of Yehudi : Loving Red foods (Ex: red soup)

Read also Jeremiah 40:11-12.

... Yehudites used to live in other tribes or countries as same as Jews in our world, contrary to the House of Israel & Judah who preserve the ethnicity & nationalism under Jehovah's religion. Yehudites are not belonging to this House. That's the critical difference. Esau & his clan didn't practice Abrahamic traditions (Ex: sacrifice, circumcision, Altar worship, burying own kins to Hebron / Kirjath-Arba : the City of Giant Anak!!), nor commit the unclean life to set apart among gentiles (Ezra 9:1-2 shows that Edomites are not included in "Goyim List" who taint the Holy Seed). In Daniel 1, 3 Yehudites & Daniel avoided the king palace's foods and took the food controls not to be defiled (Also read Ezra 9:11-12).

*Condition of Yehudi : Marrying or living with foreign races *Condition of Yehudi : Not following nationalism or fascism *Condition of Yehudi : Not joining to Jehovah's religion (Ex: sanctifying by blood) *Condition of Yehudi : Keeping clean lifestyle *Condition of Yehudi : Taking care of healthy foods ("Kosher") not to get defiled

... Look further at the details of Judith's background.

Anah's father is Zibeon (Tsib'on; sounds similar to Simeon) which means "coloured". He is a Hivite ("villager") whose origin is derived from the word "Havah (Eve: Adam's wife)". Eve is the mother of ALL THE LIVING (not only for human). In fact, this linkage is Seir ("hairy" or rough mountain as if clothed by trees like hairs; recall Esau and Eden story in Genesis 3:7 & 3:21); the Horites who are Cave dwellers. These names exactly indicate what they are really. Imagine.

Interestingly, it was Anah who had found the spring in Genesis 36:24 as same as Hagar for Beer-Sheba (later Simeon's territory) in 21:14-21. Genesis 26:34 also shows that Judith is the daughter of Beeri ("My Well / Spring"). So Shekinah Glory is with this linkage (The difference is that Hagar found the lifeline water in desert with help of God's messenger while Anah found it by him/herself; Know that spring & fountain are associated with Eye of God or Divine Jacob in the OT, for example Ezra 5:5, Deuteronomy 33:28). Shekinah is always there, while Lord God used to come and disappear. Remember that in the stories of Joseph, Esther, Ezra & Nehemiah, Lord God don't speak nor appear. But Joseph, Mordecai & his fellows are invincible and protected by people. And it was only Yehudites under God's Eye who restarted to build Jerusalem despite the threats of enemies (Ezra 5:5). God is with 'Yehudi' (Zechariah 8:23).

*Condition of Yehudi : Shekinah (lifeline protection) without prayer

Later, Sons of Esau chased away Horites the cave dwellers and destroyed them (Deuteronomy 2:12 & 2:22) as the Seed of Woman crashing the head of Snake. They eliminated these monstrous ancestors as if denying own evil background and built the new settlement on there.

*Condition of Yehudi : Seed of Woman / Mother (not always biologically) to crash Evil

Such a passion, dedication to justice is shown in Mordecai. It was him who had leaked the Persian king through Esther about the assassination plan against him. So Yehudites should be the people of Justice. In fact, under the order of Esther & Mordecai, Jews destroyed own enemies who conspired Evil but didn't steal their goods, because they're fighting for justice & self-defense, not for war nor greed, while Children of Israel used to engage wars to take plunder from enemies in the name of god. You should know that Mordecai & his fellows could steal enemy's money & treasures so that their clan can become more powerful like former Children of Israel. That would be good for them, but didn't do that. Why? The story clearly shows that their aim is the fight for dignity. Think twice.

"Mordecai 'Yehudi' was 2nd (Hbr: Mishneh; sense of imitator or dual) to King Ahasuerus and great among 'Yehudim' and highly esteemed by many of his Brothers by committing the Good for his people and speaking 'Shalom (The well-being, wholeness, health, "perfect" state, harmony or friendliness)' to all his Seed (Hbr: Zera)." [Esther 10:3 (My translation from Hebrew)]

*Condition of Yehudi : Fight for justice, dignity, self-defense or own beloved

The Hebrew word 'Zera' is not really the biological stuff, but also something like talent or DNA heritage. I will explain more about this aspect.

<Tribe name or Talent?>

Esau's offsprings have been living this region Seir including Elath until Aram king Rezin expelled "Yehudites" (2 King 16:6).

... Not Edomites? But Yehudites? So it's the Species of Judith? This naming itself signifies us "Seed of Woman / Mother". Not sons of Esau, but Judith's. They're the pure Seed of Woman / Mother among Edomites (Adam), when the author wrote 'Yehudi(m)'.

Probably, you might get aware that 'Yehudi', 'Hivi', 'Hori', 'Edomi' is not the naming of biological linkage. Tribe name should be only one. So it looks strange that Anah is of Hivite & also Horite, especially in Semitic sense considering only father's bloodlines. So it'd be ideal to determine that these naming is the species, type, category or even trait, not clan's.

Judith's ancestors are monstrous, however Esau the New Adam & his High Tabernacle created the new generations to deny their ancestors and annihilated Seir the Horites. But the Hivites (species of Eve) are remained while Horites never appear after this event. Interesting, right?

So all the Esau's descendants are biologically Yehudites? Unfortunately, No. We should focus on this factor : The author of the Holy Text is not always describing 'Yehudi' for Edomite. In the almost of verses, it is "Edomite" or "Son(s) of Edom / Esau". 'Yehudi(m)' is used in limited aspect. We should consider this factor to distinguish 'Yehudi' with biological son of Esau or Judah. As I mentioned, Judah's descendants are described in almost of case as 'Bani (sons) / 'Am (people) / Ish (man) Yehudah' as same as "Children of Israel (Bani Israel)". So 'Yehudi' is the trait or talented species in Edomites.

By the way, some people might ask "Judith (Yehudith) became Oholibamah. She lost the name 'Yehudi', so she is not Yehudite anymore?" I answer this question.

In the Book of Daniel, there are 3 Jews : Shadrach, Meshach & Abednego. Actually these name are given by the prince of the eunuchs in Babylonian Exile period (Daniel 1:7). Abednego is derived from "servant of god Nabu / Nebo (See Isaiah 46:1)" whose father is Marduk. So Daniel's companion Azariah forcibly got renamed as foreign god's servant, but he & his rest fellows Hananiah & Mishael could survive in the midst of burning fiery furnace (Daniel 3:8-30). So name change never affect the power of Yehudites. Yehudi is always Yehudi even though he/she changed the name. Same is Mordecai ("Worshipper of Mars" or "Marduk's species").

In our real life, your talent will disappear by name change? Of course, no. Heritage is not inherited to all the biological descendants, but its talent is always preserved, if you have the trait. That's it.

*Conclusion : Not all the biological nor religious Jew are 'Yehudim'

... It's the trait. So how many conditions above are fulfilled is the criteria.

The ability of Super Human is described more in the Jewish Bible. I introduce it further now.

<"Ben Yamin"; Pair of Right & Left>

"Ben Yamin" is the title of mighty man with right & left handed. It's not about Benjamin tribe. In Hebrew, spelling is different.

One of the greatest "Ben Yamin" is Ehud the son of Gera (Judges 3:15). Similar name to 'Yehud'.

... He is the son of Gera who is a biologically direct Benjamin's descendant. Not only that. Ehud is "Ben Ha Yamini"; the person of left-handed with right-handed who would save Children of Israel from Moab's oppression.

The story is interesting. Ehud brought 2-edged dagger and put it in his right leg. And took it by left hand to kill the king Moab (Judge 3:21). This episode is absolutely not a random event. The design of the author is reflected. Numerology "2" & pair. His name Ehud is derived from 'Ohad (unity)' & 'Ahad (to unify)'. 'Yehud' is also similar to these words.

These factors show the nature of 'Yehudi' : Balance of Pair, Unity

Jamin (Yamin) is the 2nd son of Simeon (Genesis 46:10). Simeon himself is the 2nd son of Jacob, so "Ben Yamin" is 2-2 as symbolically pair of 2 opposite elements. See also that Jewish Mordecai's ancestor Jair (son of Manasseh, but also Judah's descendant; 1 Chronicles 2:22) served Israel as Judge for 22 years (Judges 10:3).

Interestingly, Simeon is excluded from Moses' "blessing" in Deuteronomy 33. While Israelites are not so successful or have short-term success under Lord Jehovah, "Ben Yamin" & the Seed of "Yehudi" (especially Mordecai & his fellows in the Book of Esther) are invincible. Mordecai's possible ancestor Kish the father of King Saul is also the "Ben Ish Yamin" (1 Samuel 9:1-2).

Shimei (possible ancestor of Mordecai) is also called by David "Ben Yamin" in 2 Samuel 16:11 because David acknowledged Shimei as David's own spiritual son coming from his belly to rebel him for justice and admitted Shimei's brave action as Lord's will. Shimei cursed David, but he forgave Shimei (it means that he rebelled the king to risk life but got saved; Shekinah Glory!).

The OT has many Shimei. In 1 Chronicles 23:9-10, there are 2 Shimei (double-counted). Under righteous Hezekiah, Shimei is the 2nd officer to serve him (2 Chronicles 31:12).

Seeing these factors, we cannot deny that "Ben Yamin" is associated with numerology "2". Moreover, this phrase begins by 2 letters; 'Bet (2nd letter of biblical Hebrew)' & 'Nun (14th letter; it's holy number)' and ends by holy 'Nun' again. The first & last letters of "Ben Jamin" also becomes "BN (Son)" (which means Christ for Christian). 'Ben' itself means holy "2". The phrase "Ben Yamin" has 2 words.

On the other way, Mordecai the hero of Jews is "Ish Yamini (person of Yamin's species)". It begins by 'Aleph (1st letter; symbolism of God)' and ends by 'Yod (10th letter; initial letter of Jehovah)'. So he prevails all the number (1-10). He starts at 1 and at last becomes higher position (10 means higher rank than 1-9). This numerology itself shows his life. It's a progression. Also, he has Elohim & Jehovah as pair (Lord God). He was "2nd (Hbr: Mishneh; sense of imitator or dual) to King Ahasuerus" (Esther 10:3).

... Esther 2:5 described Mordecai in Hebrew "'Yehudy' [...] Ben 'Yaiyr', Ben 'Shime'iy', Ben 'Kiysh' : 'Iysh Yamyny'".

Is this just genealogy? Of course, No. These ancestors are all associated with numerology "2". Then, he is a "Man of Yamin (right-handed with left handed)".

In Semitic languages, the term "Man of Right-hand" signifies successful person or great one. So right-handed with left-handed is not only symbolical state of pair but also simply the mighty man who can handle the difficulty with 2 arms.

The word 'Esau' has similar meaning. It's apparently a form of the passive participle of verb 'Asah (to do, fashion, make, accomplish, etc)' in the original sense of handling; rough. Struggling, but talented.

The concept of Super Human 'Yehudi' reflects these elements. It is easy to realize how vulnerable & unstable life the Children of Israel was. They had temporarily success but couldn't keep it all the time. Lord God are not always caring about their lives (they don't have Shekinah Glory). They're inheriting the traditions of Abraham & Moses, however their spirits are so weak to temptations (It's 'Nephesh'!).

So you might ask "Why failed? What was wrong? What is the condition?" Let's analyze the consequences & Babylonian exile events now.

<One history, Two witnesses>

Books of Kings & Chronicles have same historical records, although it has different details. Why different? Which is the liar? That's the point.

Of course, we should consider the possibility of mistakes or errors by scribes. But according to my research, this "contradiction" is aimed by the author.

The Bible is Word of God & Holy Text. But this DOESN'T MEAN THAT ALL THE STATEMENT OF EACH VERSE SPEAK FACTS. The Bible is truly the riddle and great provocation. We have to see the cause & result in each episode to think "Why?" That's God's challenge to us. The one who is not doubting the brutality nor seek true God would be entrapped by literal story which promote the bloody religion for success and would be destroyed by own greed. Both the OT & NT are so designed.

Why different? Let's pick up the example of case after Aram expelled Yehudites from Elath and see what's next. The details are not same between 2 Kings & 2 Chronicles. I write the summary about it below :

Book of 2 Chronicles (Ephraim side) : The king of Aram attacked Ahaz's dynasty to deport people in Judah and Pekah killed 120, 0000 people; all the "Sons of Brave" (Hbr: Bnei Hayl; men of "Force") in Judah. Yehudites are not found here. Israelites captured the people of Judah. The prophet Oded lectured them not to enslave their own brothers & sisters. Israelites changed the minds and helped them to send Jericho. Then, Edomites came to Judah to capture. Philistines, too. But after that, sinful Ahaz died and his son Hezekiah (Hbr: Yuhizeqiyahu) miraculously restored Israel & Judah to unite each other. His mother's name is Abih ("Father of Ya") / Abi ("My father"). The female has male name (model of Elohim). No mentioned about killing or capturing Edomites / Yehudites. Then, Assyria's servants came by Yehudith language to deceive & threaten people in Jerusalem (it means there are Yehudites). But Jehovah sent agents to annihilate the army of Assyria and its king got killed by his own children. Moreover, Moses' Torah got found from the Temple to restore the Laws of Jehovah. Then, Babylon came to Judah, but not so cruel. Jehovah is quite merciful and used to send agents to convince His people to repent, while they were not listening. Finally, His wrath got stirred up to send horribly brutal Chaldean army to steal everything, kill the people, destroy the Temple & Jerusalem. But the story ends by mentioning the hope of Persian king Cyrus to save Israel.

Book of 2 King (Judah's side) : The king of Aram Rezin expelled Yehudites from Elath (former Edom's territory), then Assyria killed Rezin and captured Damascus to deport its people (Aramean) into Qirah. However, the Kingdoms of Israel & Judah started to be enslaved & deported by Assyria, which then brought foreigners to Samaria (Main land for Kingdom of Israel) in order to taint its holy place. Even righteous Hezakiah (Hbr: Yuhizeqiyahu) could not stop Assyria from capturing & destroying Judah. Later, Jehovah avenged Assyria, but didn't completely annihilated all their force. One more righteous king Josiah came to restore Torah traditions, but he couldn't change Jehovah's decision to remove Israel & Judah (2 King 23:26-27). Not only Babylon also Chaldean, Aramean, Moabite, & Ammonite armies (but not Edomites) came to Judah due to sins of king Manasseh. The consequence is terribly worse than stories of 2 Chronicles. Almost of people in Judah got deported to Babylon. But Ishmael & his 10 men killed Babylonian watcher Gedaliah, Yehudites & Chaldeans and escaped to Egypt. And in the end of the story, sinful traitor Jehoiachin who had sold his own people & treasures got released from prison by a new king of Babylon.

... How do you detect the difference?

In the side of 2 Chronicles, Yehudites are not killed. After the righteous guide of the Prophet Oded, people of Israel & Judah repented to unite together. Then, Edomites (possibly, including Yehudites) came to cause the hunting in Judah and took the captivity. No direct mentioning that Edomites killed sons of Judah (Read 28:17 in Hebrew). Then, the miracle works of Hezekiah accomplished. Babylon came, but in soft manner. Jehovah used to warn people so that He can avoid to wipe out Israel & Judah.

On the other side of 2 Kings, Yehudites got expelled by Aram from Elath where had received the restoring work by Azariah the king of Judah (2 Kings 14:21-22). It seems that Edomites & people of Judah were living together there. But after this expulsion of Yehudites, the king of Aram got killed and both Kingdoms of Israel & Judah became vulnerable against foreign forces. Hezakiah couldn't stop Assyria. Although Josiah had restored Torah, Jehovah didn't change the mind to forgive them. The vast numbers of foreign armies destroyed Jerusalem. Almost of people got deported. Many genocides & robbing. Under such circumstances, even Yehudites there got killed by Ishmael and the traitor king Jehoiachin obtained freedom.

... Did you see the difference?

1, When somebody harmed Yehudite, he/she get avenged somehow.

2, When Yehudites are persecuted, the world loses the harmony to increase the conflict.

3, When Yehudites are not protected, Lord God are cold and Children of Israel & Jerusalem become unsafe.

4, When such a protection power of Yehudites is decreased, even other Yehudites become in danger and sinful people get luck.

... Surprising?

You might say "Yehudites are actually the Messaih for Jewish people??" The answer is Yes (but not exactly same with what today's religious Jews define).

Probably, ordinary people couldn't imagine that 'Yehudim' are Divine creatures equal to God, although their appearance is nothing different with ordinary persons. They're not Lord God, however are the Perfect Adam & Super Human. If anyone hurt this living Divine, he/she will "pay the price" to be cursed. On the other way, if anyone welcomed them, he/she & its clan will obtain safe & blessings. Recall the Promises by Lord God to Abraham in Genesis 12:3. Mordecai also has same protection (Esther 6:13, 8:7, 9:1).

You might be afraid and say "Who is Yehudi??" I wrote the conditions already above. One more again, I list up simply below :

{- Primary conditions for Seed of Yehudites: Perfect Adam -}

1, Seed of Woman / Mother to crash Evil (not literally biological female); Heroic figure 2, Godly Spirit against Evil & unfairness 3, Having Male & Female (inner nature, names, roles, etc); Symbol of pair, not literal 4, Name change (by own will to erase the past or forcibly by someone) 5, Denying own sinful kinship & its tradition, even destroying them 6, Deal or Fight for justice, dignity, self-defense or own beloved ones (not for greed) 7, Marrying or living with foreign races 8, Keeping clean lifestyle 9, Eating healthy foods or careful of defiled foods ("Kosher") 10, No original sin (Godly person to love harmony and avoid sins) 11, Not associated with Abraham's religion; Lord God do not interfere to sinless 'Yehudi' 12, Shekinah (Always protected; If anyone attacked, he/she would be revenged) 13, Divine power to bring the blessings for anyone who welcome 'Yehudi'

{- Possible conditions of Yehudites -}

1, "Ben Yamin" (person of right & left-handed); 2 unified mighty power like Elohim 2, Associated with number 2 (Ex: birthday, 2nd position); Symbol of Unity or Harmony 3, Red colored (especially Hair); David is not 'Yehudi', but is ruddy and mighty hero 4, Loving Red coloured foods (Genesis 25:30); Red is associated with Edom / Adam 5, Not embracing nationalism or fascism

... As mentioned you, 'Yehudi' is "Zera" & the trait. However, Esther 8:17 narrated that many people of the land are going to imitate Jews. You may question "So we can become Yehudites??" This is the great theme.

The simple answer is "Kinda yes". 'Yehud' is the species & Heritage. People cannot obtain it by work, if they don't have it potentially. In other words, it is possible that they might "awaken" to 'Yehud' through life events, if their ancestors were Idumean (Edomite). The existence of idumea is academically proved. It's not a legend.

Or, people can literally practice / follow Yehud's model. I wrote the primary conditions above. These are all able to be imitated (except Shekinah & Divine power), while YOU CAN NEVER EVER BECOME CHILDREN OF ISRAEL IF YOU DON'T HAVE THE BLOODLINE OF THEM. That's the biggest difference.

You might say "Isn't that Judaism??" Well, kinda. But today's Judaism as religion is well-organized too much and I don't think we can become 'Yehudi' there. They define "Jewishness" according to their traditions.

For example, Judaism as religion defines Jew as "one who is born from Jewish mother". Of course, this concept is coming from Genesis 3:15. But the problem is that they determine the Seed of Woman / Mother literally. As I explained above, Esau is male but a Seed of Woman / Mother. This combination itself has the very important meaning (Elohim model). Judaism as religion ignores or doesn't consider this factor. So not all of them you would agree.

<Then, Who is not 'Yehudi'?>

Who is 'Yehudi' or not shouldn't be determined by the system. Anyone can say "I'm God's chosen race!" But this is absurd according to Torah's concepts. Everything began from this Book Torah / Tanakh (Bible). How could you know the origin & identity 'Yehudi' without reading it?

If someone believes him/herself to be 'Yehudi' just because the parent said "You're Jewish, because I am a Jew!", it'd mean it's race. That's wrong. Children of Israel are ethnical tribes, while biblical 'Yehudim' are not so. 'Yehudi' is the Man of Justice and Godly person as trait. You cannot buy it by money nor religious conversion.

The term "Jew" is obviously social position : Anyone who has the "Jewish" background would be a Jew. Biblically, Children of Israel & Yehudites are opposite each other. 'Yehudim' are not exactly same with sons of Judah nor even Edomites. This social category "Jew" includes all of them (also Samaritan Jews). Each are very different almost like another race. Some follow ancient Israel's way, some practice religious stuffs, some just read the Bible, some rebel this tradition, some just believe to be one of God's people, or other some even don't care ...

The only common thing is that they have "Jewish" background.

As I already explained, not all the Jew are Yehudites as same as Biblical figures. 'Yehudi' is the trait, so to speak DNA heritage. Unfortunately, not everyone can become 'Yehudi', but we can promote them this wisdom so that they can imitate the way to "become" Yehudites (Esther 8:17). So what is different between Jews & Yehudites?

For instance, the English word 'Jew' doesn't contain D letter & sound. I just wonder if "Torah Bearer" does care about it when someone said "I'm a Jew".

The Arabic word 'Yahu' is used by Muslims for addressing the evil Jew. The regular spelling is actually 'Yahudiya'. Again, without D letter. Do you know why? See some examples of Hebrew words:

Dawd : Love David : The King David Oded : the Prophet Oded who brought unity to Israel & Judah (2 Chronicles 28) Ebed : Servant ...

Semitic letter D essentially has the meanings of "Dedication": Love, Passion to serve, Deserving something Special or Chosen, Separated ...

Be aware why & how the inventor of words 'Jew' & 'Yahu' made it without D. How much important for God's people to keep Love & commitment for justice! Otherwise, they're nothing special to be worth chosen ones ("without D").

While you're a Jew, you can pick up any way to live. But the way of 'Yehudi' is not for everybody's. The true passion to dedicate the Torah culture for wisdom and to seek the true God for genuine faith ... Not everyone want to walk this way. Some are just lazy, some just don't care, other some actually want but cannot in any reason.

Some conspiracy theory sites revealed how the Elite Jews think about ordinary Jews. They're Lesser Jews who just must serve the Elite Jews for higher purposes. Why are the Elite Jews treating them as lesser? Probably, because they're the most close to Torah and know Hebrew language but don't understand its wisdom and even don't care to believe "Abraham is a Jew" without doubt.

Today's term 'Jew' is exactly set by the political concept, especially for gentiles who want to become "Jews" due to personal, religious or political agenda. Ordinary people perceive 'Yehudi' the Super Divine Human as today's Jew. Not exactly. But the Elite Jews are real 'Yehudim'.

If you are 'Yehudi', you would doubt such a political concept above and seek the true God by yourself to reject what humans ("people of the land"; Am Ha 'Arets) preach about god. The society is more important to define you to be a Jew more than your Holy Torah? We have Torah here. Let's read it in order to dedicate the Truth. I am the one who is helping you to understand the mystery of the Holy Text so that you can find the true God's people among you and detect "Synagogue of Satan" who pretend to be God's chosen ones but behave nothing same with true 'Yehudi' or even commit injustice in the name of Jew or god (Caution: I'm not a Christian believer).

Yehudites are truly the Messianic figures. The Messiah is not only one, as many names of it are written in the Bible. Even though one Messiah died, other Messiah around the world should continue enlightening all of us. Each of them might be weak, but their total power is aiming to its goal : The Age to Come; The world of Harmony (Shalom).

... On the other side, I admit that not everybody can become same. Unfortunately, the genius is positioned under 5 % while other 95% cannot reach to this level. Lord God made us like this. They have the responsibility for it. We cannot say "Oh, 95% of populations are garbage and they cannot become Godly like ours! So let's kill them all!!" I'd say that each of them have any talent and can use it, if they want to get higher for better world. Jews are same.

Priests cannot be construction workers and vice versa. If Jews want to serve their religion for Israel, let them do it. But if they're eager to become the genuine 'Yehudi' as Messianic role, let them walk this way. They're the ones who detect the Fake Yehudites who show the bad example by ungodly attitude and disturb the dignity of the true God's people.

30, July, 2019

[writingandsleeping]

Everyone always assumed aliens would be far superior to humans, either scientifically or militaristically.  Christine never understood that.  Why couldn’t aliens be equal?  Maybe even lesser?  Did everyone want to feel inferior and uneducated?  They were aliens after all, not gods.  Honestly, she didn’t mind if aliens were superior – didn’t care.  All she asked was for some diversity of thought.

Maybe, if there had some open-mindedness regarding aliens, they wouldn’t have fallen into this mess.  Maybe she wouldn’t be laying on a table with a tube pumping a baby blue liquid into one arm and another pumping a translucent white liquid out her other.  Maybe she wouldn’t be desperately trying to examine the room so she could forget that the same thing was happening to everyone else on the International Space Station, too.  Just the thought of her fellow astronauts in the same position she was upset her enough; she didn’t need to see the campers, the young kids entrusted to her, in the same horrible position, too – food for aliens.

They had hijacked the ISS two days before the campers’ mission was scheduled to end.  Their ship was incompatible with the Station’s landing dock, so they locked onto it with some kind of giant claw.  Michael, a Canadian that the campers called Moose because of his height and accent, had been explaining how vibration-frequency shields protected the Station from asteroids and comets.  Dimitri, meanwhile, had glided to the controls to make sure those shields were working.  All four professional astronauts knew the force rocking the ISS was far too harsh to be a standard asteroid.  In the interest of keeping the teenagers calm though, they followed basic routine without so much as a worried glance at each other.  No matter how much training they received, scared kids were still scared kids.

Christine was the first to notice the shadow on the side of the Station that should have been illuminated by the sun.  She nudged Kei and directed his attention to the enormous object pulling up next to the window.  His mouth dropped open, and he rubbed his eyes.  Without tearing his gaze away, he fumbled his hand along the table, groping for some kind of instrument.  Christine couldn’t even begin to guess which instruments to use.

“Is that…”  She didn’t know how to continue.

“I think we’re being boarded,” Dimitri said softly behind her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kei hissed back.  “It’s just an–”

A rhythmic banging on the wall next to the door stopped him.  Dimitri hesitantly pulled himself toward the noise as Michael ushered the campers into their sleeping cabin.  It wasn’t any more protected than the rest of the Station, but at least the campers would be out of the way there.  As Michael activated the air-tight door lock to further protect the campers, a tap on the door echoed throughout the main chamber of the Station.  Then the hiss of escaping air pierced the silence, and Dimitri backed away as fast he could flail.  Alarms blared, and Christine threw helmets to Dimitri and Kei.  Michael got to his before she could toss him one, too.  As she was securing her oxygen, Christine looked into the sleeping cabin to make sure the campers had fastened their emergency gear as well.  Not surprisingly, they had finished faster than the professionals.  One or two kids were panicking, but the others were helping to calm them down, and Christine felt a flush of pride for her crop.  She couldn’t bask in the feeling for long, though, before the door burst open, and she had to prepare herself to examine the damage to the Station.

Except, there was no damage.  There were aliens.  Tall, orange aliens.

Humanoid in stature, they had three huge, black eyes, all owl-like in shape, but one was centered just above the other two.  In the very center of the faces, beneath the eyes, were slits that Christine assumed were snake-like noses.  Though the top of their heads were bald, the lower half of their faces were covered by long, silvery hair, streaked with black.  A squat, thick neck leveled off to tall, bony shoulders that began only one of their two sets of arms.  The first pair of arms were long and thin with elbows that were almost as bony as their shoulders.  All three of the aliens were holding these arms behind their backs, so Christine couldn’t see what the hands were like.  The other pair grew out of their midsections so that the stocky, obviously muscular arms wrapped directly around their waists.  The aliens’ legs were also stocky and long, with two knee-joints each, resembling the knuckles of human fingers.  A long lion-like tail was draped over the shoulder of the alien in the front of the group, though Christine couldn’t see a tail on either of the two behind it.

“Amazing,” Michael whispered.  “They exist.  I…  Where?”

“I agree,” Kei said, as serious as a funeral.

“Um,” Christine paused to track down all of her thoughts, “if they ripped our door off, why haven’t we been sucked into the vacuum of space?”  She couldn’t actually see if the door was ripped off.  The aliens were too tall, possibly eight feet, and broad-shouldered to see past.  However badly the ISS was damaged, Christine couldn’t see it at all.

“You always think critically before beautifully, Chris?” Michael asked.

“Not dying is a beautiful thing, Moose,” she responded.

“I agree with Christine,” Dimitri said from the front of the Station.  “Given their method of entry, we should be dead.”

“We took great precautions to ensure your safety.  It is not our intention to harm you.”  The voice was clearly robotic, sharing qualities with a seriously gruff Siri who had a bad sinus congestion.

“Who said that?” Dimitri demanded.

“None of them moved,” Kei stated.

“Maybe we just can’t see their mouths behind the beards?” Michael suggested.

“Both Earthlings are correct,” the robot said.  “My translator is communicating for me.”

Dimitri flinched and floated a few feet backward as the forwardmost alien unwrapped one large arm from its midsection to brandish a metal wrist strap with holograms flashing and whirling above its face.  Christine noticed with fascination that the alien’s hand had six fingers, two of which she thought resembled thumbs.

“Your technology can translate a new language as we speak?” Michael asked in clear awe.  He shared none of Dimitri’s nervousness, looking as if he wanted to shift even closer to the aliens.

“No,” it responded as it wrapped its arm back around its waist.  The tone of the technological voice was strictly dry.  “We have been in your orbit for quite some time.  We waited to make contact until our translators had fully decoded your languages.”

“Why does one tiny planet need so many languages?” a different robotic voice asked.  It was deeper than the first voice and had less of a technological tinny, shriek.  Christine thought it almost sounded more masculine.

The original voice hissed, and the forwardmost alien thrust the bushy tip of its tail through the beard of the alien to its left, though the rest of its body remained rigid.

“I apologize for the comments,” the first robotic voice said.  “We do not mean to criticize.  It is simply surprising to some of our younger stock.”

“Does your entire planet speak the same language?” Michael asked.

“It,” the alien hesitated, “does.”  The alien to the right shifted, and Christine thought its eyes dilated.  She hadn’t noticed initially that there was a faded purple pupil within the black, which apparently was just an enormous iris rather than the whole eye like she initially thought.

Dimitri, Kei, and Christine exchanged glances.  Dimitri clearly shared Christine’s unease at the hesitation.  Kei mostly looked excited, like a ten-year-old who was offered a trip to the North Pole in Santa’s sleigh, eager but prepared for disappointment.  Michael, however, wouldn’t take his eyes off the aliens.  Maybe it was because she grew up in a big city where “stranger danger” was practically a religion, but Christine was concerned about his excessive excitement.  As a scientist, she was elated that they were in the presence of alien life, too, but the manner in which the aliens boarded the Station like pirates gave her the worst feeling of foreboding.

“So, why are we still standing in perfect gravity?” Christine asked.

“Before we cut into your starbase we constructed an attachable ante-chamber that would preserve your preferred conditions,” the seeming leader answered.

“Our conditions,” Dimitri noted.  “Do you not need oxygen and steady gravity as well?”

“We are not oxygen-dependent as you are.  We require a carbon-nitrogen mixture,” it explained.  “Gravity does not always concern us.  We utilize anti-gravity work boots at all times.  They instinctively adjust to relative gravity so that we always feel steady and secure, as we do in our preferred gravity state.”

Dimitri shared an astonished look with Kei.  The head engineer and physicist, they were marvelling in such technology.  If Dimitri could get past his trepidation, Christine was sure he would be at the alien’s feet, taking in as many features and specifications of the boots as he could.

“Then how are you breathing in here if you matched our conditions rather than your own?” Michael asked.  He sounded absolutely breathless, and Christine’s peripheral glance at him confirmed that his eyes were blown wide with exhilaration and his mouth was hanging open.  His excessive enthusiasm made sense since he specialized in astro-biology and -botany, but she couldn’t help wondering how dignified they looked as a group and whether it was well-reflective of Earth as a planet.  Michael’s childlike wonder, Kei’s guarded excitement, and her and Dimitri’s skepticism made an odd combination at the very least.

“Like you, we are wearing safety helmets,” the aliens’ leader said.  The one to its left muttered into the tail still covering its mouth.

The lead alien raised one of her long, skinny arms and prodded the air in front of her eyes.  Christine didn’t know if she was more entranced by the air shimmering in response, evidence of a force-field helmet, or the alien’s delicate hand that only had three smooth fingers which looked like suction cups, two inches long and barely a quarter-inch in diameter.

“That is the absolute coolest thing I have ever seen!” a voice behind all of them shouted.

“Hella!” another answered.

“Aliens are standing in front of you, but you think their invisible helmets are the coolest part?” Daisy scoffed.

“Patrick’s right though!” Jake said.  “We all know there had to be aliens somewhere, but that technology is bomb.”

“Yeah, somewhere,” Tim argued, “not on the damn ISS!  This is incredible!”

“Besides, technology can always be invented and improved upon,” Lizzie agreed.  “You don’t meet aliens every day.”

“What are you doing here?  Get back in the cabin!” Dimitri ordered.  If the kids were afraid of his red-faced Russian rage, they didn’t show it.  Only two of the ten campers so much as flinched, and none of them made the slightest move to safety.

“You can’t hog aliens,” Patrick stated, crossing his arms over his thin chest.  “We get to be a part of this – this discovery as much as you.”  Christine wanted to cry to him that it’s not a discovery when you’re the one commandeered.

“We deserve it after training for almost five years straight,” Daisy added.

Those two had established themselves as the leaders of their year long ago, and their arrogance drove every counselor and professional astronaut crazy.  It was true the kids trained for four and a half rigorous years before the top ten percent was taken on a real trip to space, but that did not give them the right to undermine authority like this.  Christine knew she should have barred Patrick from the trip when she caught him strapping into the pilot chair instead of the main cabin seats with the rest of classmates.  The lift-off countdown had already begun though; forcing him to disembark would have sent the camp and NASA both into hysterics and disarray.  Instead she made him watch as she lowered his official ranking and reported a black mark on his record.  Until now, that had been enough to keep him in line.

“Let them stay,” Michael agreed without turning around.  He hadn’t taken his eyes off the aliens for even a second.  “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.  As long as they stay quiet in the very back of the Station, there’s no reason they shouldn’t be part of this.”

Kei made sounds of disbelief but didn’t actually protest, and Dimitri simply growled.  Christine grumbled to herself about stereotypical Canadian niceness but didn’t say anything argumentative either.  Now was certainly not the time for in-fighting.  She fixed one more glare on Patrick before returning her attention to the aliens.  All three new had wide eyes with huge purple pupils.  The alien to the left had dropped into a crouch, both knees bent and leaning forward.  The alien to the right was now standing with both of its stocky arms wide, looking ready to bear-hug or restrain someone.  The lead alien’s tail was thrashing behind its head, and it’s forcefield was shimmering like water affected by vibration.  It seemed to be holding the other two in place behind it.  Suddenly, Christine’s foreboding was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

After that, it was a terrifying blur.

Despite their leader seeming to – or attempting to – hold them back, the two flanking it from behind dove forward and grabbed Michael and Kei.  Dimitri raised a wrench or something, but the leader’s tail flicked it from his hands as easily as if it was a slicked bar of soap.  Christine backed up to guard the children, but before she could even imagine how to defend herself or the campers, the two aggressive aliens knocked her to the ground.  She could only watch through heavy eyes as they pulled the campers away from her, each taking two in their stocky arms and one in their sleek arms.  She tried to make a desperate attempt to get up and save them, but her elbow and knee throbbed, and she couldn’t move.

The next time she opened her eyes, she was strapped to a table with a gag shoved unpleasantly deep into her throat.  Breathing through her nose tickled the back of her incredibly dry throat, and swallowing irritated the gag, making her feel like she was drowning.  Christine was also restrained too tightly to shift around on the table much.  She could only see directly in front of her and what rolling her eyes could fill in for her periphery.  She couldn’t remember being strapped down or even moving from the floor of the ISS.  She was here though, in a chair that felt stiff but plushy like a leather-cushioned doctor’s examination chair.  What her hands felt of the material along the sides, it was fuzzy like suede and too solid to squeeze.  The scientist in her was desperately curious about what it was made from.  Was it some kind of manufactured animal hide like leather on Earth or a material humans had never heard of before?

Distracting herself from the chair, she examined the wall in front of her.  It was the only thing she could see perfectly clearly since she didn’t have to strain her eyes to look at it.  There was a porthole that she judged to be eight feet off the ground, which seemed the right height for the aliens.  Christine’s neck had begun to hurt from looking up at them on the ISS.  The rest of the wall was smooth and shiny, a large charcoal expanse with no seeming disfigurations or blemishes.  No nail holes or screwheads or seams, no evidence of construction.  Clearly, these aliens knew how to metal-work if their spaceship – Christine assumed – was any evidence or the way the aliens had to quickly and effortlessly sliced and spliced the ISS.  What Christine could see of the ceiling was just as well-made.  There wasn’t even a seam between the wall and the ceiling.  It was as if the entire section of the room was one perfectly smooth piece of material.

The strain of rolling her eyes to their limits was starting to blur her vision, so she snapped her lids shut before the fuzziness gave her a migraine.  With her eyes resting, Christine strained her other senses instead.  There was a thrumming in the air that also translated into a small vibration in the chair.  Christine guessed it was the ship’s engine and was more intrigued by the mechanical whining that pierced the air every seven – she counted several times – seconds exactly.  Another rhythm of the engine?  Were the aliens working on something?  Was it another example of their metal-working?  Christine could only hope she would live to find out.

To be fair, Christine would settle with just living, especially since her nose was suddenly registering an increasingly acrid stench.  Something near her was burning, something very, uncomfortably close.  Her eyes snapped back open, and she fought to twist her head and find the source.  One of the aliens had soundlessly entered the room through the wall in front of her.  The porthole was a window on the door that was slowly sliding shut behind the alien.

But there were no seams!  Not even a hinge!

The miraculous wall rivaled the alien for Christine’s attention, but she focused on the alien when she realized it was smoking.  The burning stench was coming from the fish tank contraption around its head.  This time, the helmet was perfectly visible and full of fog so thick Christine could barely see the alien’s face.  There was a scuba-style mouthpiece that breathed in a liquid and filtered out the fog.  With a jolt, Christine realized the liquid was the same color and consistency as what was coming out of her arm.

Dragging her eyes away from the alien’s mouthpiece, Christine began squirming relentlessly in her bonds as the alien approached her.  It unfolded its thin arms with the three-fingered hands and held them open, extended straight downward.  Christine stopped wriggling but remained rigid, wondering if this was some form of proving itself unarmed, like how humans held their hands up.  If it was, she would have preferred to see that its enormous arms were accounted for, not the thin, delicate ones.

“I do not mean to harm you,” it said.  A tail lazily draped itself over the alien’s shoulder, and Christine assumed it was the leader that invaded the ISS.  With the gag still firmly lodged, she could only glare and growl.

Slowly, the alien reached forward and delicately removed the gag with one suction-cup hand.  Christine angled her face as much as she could and spit in the alien’s direction.  To her satisfaction, her disgusting glob landed at its feet.  “That’s what you said last time,” she finally retorted.

The alien’s eyes dilated to the widest state Christine had seen them.  Unlike the pupils she first noticed on the other alien, this alien had much brighter purple in its eyes.  They were a bright, violet color rather than the greyish periwinkle Christine had first examined.  Why hadn’t she noticed on the ISS when all three were dilated?  She was probably too terrified, which she supposed was a decent excuse.  Now Christine couldn’t help wondering if the third alien had violet or periwinkle eyes.  Or were his eyes a third color?  Could it be individualized like humans’ eyes?

“I apologize for the actions of my workers.”  The translator was as drawl and emotionless as before, interrupting Christine’s stream of unspoken questions.  “I told them we would be strictly peaceful, but when we realized how many life-giving sources were on your ship, they could not contain themselves.”

After a moment, Christine repeated, “Life-giving sources?”  There was a lot to explain about the alien’s explanation, but she decided to start there.

The alien, however, did not reply.  Instead, it placed the gag on a table beside the chair and began to unhook the tubes in Christine’s arms.  The pinpricks gushed a few drops of blood as the needles were extracted, and the alien placed fuzzy adhesives on them.  With the utmost care, it capped each tube, turned off the machine Christine didn’t even notice behind her, and fetched containers from beneath Christine’s cushions.  A cross between a mason jar and a petri dish, it took two of the squat containers to save all of the white liquid Christine had unwillingly surrendered.

“As I explained on your starbase, we require a combination of carbon and nitrogen to survive,” the alien said when it was done.  It held a container in each stocky hand as it surveyed Christine again.  “We have yet to find another world that can support us.  Until then, we will require your donations.”

“Donations?” Christine exclaimed.  “This isn’t a donating.  This is stealing!”  The alien stared back through the haze of her helmet silently with wide purple pupils.  Christine took a deep breath and repeated her initial question.  “What life-giving sources am I providing you?”

“There is a chemical in your body that is largely composed of carbon and nitrogen.  It is not an exact match to our atmosphere, but it is as close as we will find anywhere.  Our tests have shown that it is not a necessary component to your health.  Since you do not need it, but we do, we thought the donations only fair.”

“Why do you need to take it at all?” Christine argued.  “Why don’t you just go home or manufacture more?  Clearly you have advanced technology and intelligence.”

The alien’s tail twitched on its shoulder, and it’s pupils retracted to almost nothing.  It walked to an area of the room Christine couldn’t see, and her muscles tensed voluntarily.  There was a faint scraping sound, like a hatch opening, and then the alien was in her sights again but without the jars of Christine’s so-called life-giving donations.  After a moment’s hesitation, the alien approached Christine again and began to loosen her bindings, beginning with Christine’s head and moving down to her elbows, hands, knees, and ankles.  Christine remained still despite her freedom, unsure why she was being set free.

“We do not have such,” it said.  Then it began to walk away.

“Wait!” Christine called after it.  “What do you mean?”

The alien paused halfway between her and the wall with the porthole.  It turned around again, tail thrashing, and studied Christine more intensely than before.  “We do not have the technology to manufacture it.  We no longer have a home.  Some of us do not have intelligence,” it hissed.  “Why have you not yet moved?  I set you free to…”  It trailed off.

Christine narrowed her her eyes and studied the alien just as intensely.  “Did you want me to attack you?  There’s no point in that, is there?”

“I suppose not,” the alien admitted.  It’s tail returned to its shoulder but continued to twitch.

Christine finally sat up, moving as slowly as possible so not to startle the alien or hurt herself.  She still wasn’t sure what they had extracted from her body, but she didn’t feel pained or woozy.  Even sitting in the straighter position with no support for her back, she wasn’t dizzy or lightheaded.  Her vision wasn’t blurred.  Her mouth wasn’t dry.  Her ears weren’t ringing.  Maybe the aliens really weren’t trying to harm them.  The appendix was an example of extra components that the human body contained but didn’t necessarily need.  Perhaps the aliens really had found another superfluous component.  Her specialty was mechanical parts, not human parts.  Moose would have known if the alien was telling the truth, but she never would.

Moose!  How could she have forgotten about the rest of the crew?  Her campers?  How had she not asked about them yet.  They were probably in the same position she had been, scared out of their young minds.  Christine needed to ask about them, but she was more concerned with something the alien had just said.

“What did you mean you no longer have a home?” she asked.

The alien’s tail stopped twitching and dropped a little lower over the alien’s chest.  Its pupils retracted yet again, and it carefully clasped its hand behind its back.  Christine enjoyed comparing its actions to humans as they tried to compose themselves or gather their thoughts.

Finally, the alien began to say, “This is a –”

“This is a war ship,” a robotic voice boomed in the background.

A new alien was standing in front of the porthole now.  Although shorter than the alien Christine was painstakingly becoming acquainted with, it was larger in almost every other way.  Its shoulders and waist were broader, its high shoulders pointier, its lower arms stockier.  Its eyes were the dull, greyish periwinkle shade.  Instinctively, Christine leaned back in the chair again, moving as far from the new alien as she could.  Something about it was far more intimidating than the one she was already talking to, even the two who had accompanied this one onto the ISS.

“Why have you stopped draining it?” the new alien demanded.

“Because we have drained her as much as I dare.  We are not to harm these people, NAME,” the original alien hissed.  Its voice was far more forceful that Christine had heard so far.  “As I decreed –”

“The people no longer care what you decreed,” the new alien interrupted.  “They have been made to see reason.  We will continue to drain the Earthlings for as much as possible.”

“Who do you think you are to give orders to me?”

“I am your replacement,” it stated.  Then it turned to fully face Christine for the first time.  “This is a war ship,” it repeated.  “If you and your stock do not comply with our orders, we will destroy your planet.  Our ship is equipped with blasters that have three times the force needed to obliterate your ridiculous, puny world.”

The original alien, who was apparently just deposed, tried to speak again – its eyes almost pure purple – but before a syllable could escape its mouth, the new alien sent a swift, fisted stocky lower arm into its stomach.  The hit sent the alien flying into the far wall where it had earlier deposited the jars of white life-giving donation.  Christine heard herself shriek, but her eyes glazed over, and she suddenly felt like she was no longer in the room.  Rather, she was standing behind a glass, viewing but not engaging.  She allowed the aggressive alien to shove her backward onto the chair again and didn’t fight when he lifted her legs back onto the stiff cushion.  Had she tried to rush to the other alien?  She didn’t even realize she had moved, aside from flinching.  With rough, utterly uncaring force, the new alien jarred her face forward again so she was stuck staring at the porthole once again, strapped too tightly in place.  The gag was shoved further past her tonsils than the first time, and the tubes were re-inserted.

Once again, Christine found herself straining her eyes to take in the side of the room, but this time, she was concerned about the well-being of an alien, rather than fearing the arrival of one.  Vaguely, she knew there was something else she should be worrying about, but as the white, goopy liquid began streaming from her arm again, she found it harder and harder to focus on anything except that new alien walking through the ruins of her hometown and the desperate, despairing loneliness of being millions of miles away in an impossible position to help.

She finally closed her eyes, feeling the steady tears roll down her cheeks.

[agirlinjapan]

Red Data Girl: My Longest Day of School (Week 25)

Red Data Girl: My Longest Day of School By Noriko Ogiwara A Translation

Miss the last piece? Read it here!

Check out the RDG Translation twitter!

Today, I successfully completed translating all of RDG 5. I’m so excited! The ending is a little different from where the anime stops. I’m really looking forward to starting RDG 6 seeing as this is part of the story that we didn't get in the anime. However, it’s bittersweet to know that this is the beginning of the end.--Book 6 is the last book in the series. What will I do when I finish? I’ll have to find something else good to translate!

Red Data Girl: My Longest Day of School By Noriko Ogiwara Chapter 4: Choice Part 2 (2 of 3)

With Masumi in his Warring States era costume, Izumiko felt as if the school was nearby. She became aware of her own kuroko outfit. Her hair was wild and unruly, hanging to her waist with leaves stuck in it near the bottom of its strands.

“Why are you dressed like that? It looks like something Takayanagi would wear,” Izumiko said.

Masumi looked surprised.

“Huh? Really. This is what Mayura’s wearing today. Shoot. Does she look like him, too?”

“She doesn’t.” Izumiko grinned at him broadly. “She looks like a respectable soldier. The outfit looks good on her. Masumi, aren’t you supposed to be with her all day today? Why are you here?”

“Ah, um…”

“Don’t you have to help her win?”

Masumi gave a vague gesture at her words. “Yeah, but… I’m a little confused about what’s going on here. I’ve switched places with Mayura a hundred times before this. But this time, I think she wants to sacrifice herself.”

Izumiko blinked, thinking she must have misheard him.

“Sacrifice herself? That can’t be right. Why would she do that?”

“Mayura’s ultimate wish is to give her heart to Manatsu.”

“Give?...”

Izumiko found herself at a loss. Masumi didn’t often use figurative language, but she thought that he must be this time.

“A heart transplant,” he said, his tone straight foward. “There’s a good chance that Manatsu’s heart will give out like mine did when I was young. So Mayura wants Manatsu to live a long life by giving him hers, I think. That way, they can continue living as one person.”

At first, Izumiko didn’t know how to respond. She took a breath and finally whispered, “That’s…”

Masumi’s facial features were more or less the same as Manatsu’s, but his expressions resembled Mayura’s as well.

“It’s true,” he said. “When we were little, we promised each other that we’d all become one person. Mayura still acted like a boy then. It was an innocent promise. That’s why I came back to my siblings. The being known as Masumi is a dream of that promise.”

Izumiko stared at him, her eyes wide. “But that’s… What does Manatsu think of all this?”

“He has no idea what to do. He didn’t think it would come to anything, but then the events of this summer happened. Things are starting to unravel. For now at least, barely anything’s changed though.”

Izumiko thought about this for a minute and then opened her mouth. “If I were Manatsu, I wouldn’t know what to do either. Things are serious if that’s what Mayura is wishing for. It’s hard to full comprehend. What do you think, Masumi?”

Masumi shrugged, his surcoat going up and down with the motion.

“I don’t really think anything about it. A while back, you told me that devouring another spirit was kind of like liking them, right? Could you say this situation is an explanation of what like is, too?”

“…I don’t think I would say that,” Izumiko murmured quietly. “So, whether Mayura wins or loses or whatever else happens, all three of you are planning to become the same person in the future?”

“They’re looking for ways that would keep them from being alone. Mayura and Manatsu both want the other to live because they’ve seen the existence I, who died before them, lead.”

Izumiko stared at him, thinking. The words “ways that would keep them from being alone” resonated in her chest. Mayura always had someone with her. She had people she could be with.

“I’m jealous… She’s totally different from me… I’ve always thought that, even from the first day we met,” Izumiko said, her eyes downcast. “I thought I would be happy if I could just be useful to Mayura. I wanted to be on her side and help her beat Takayanagi. I wanted to help her become the best in the school. But now I don’t know if that’s the right thing to do… I’m probably not useful. I can’t do anything for her.”

“Why?”

“I can’t go back to the school.”

“Why?” Masumi repeated. He sounded like a young, curious child.

“I’m different from normal people,” Izumiko replied. “I might as well not be human at all.”

“But you’re human, Izumiko.”

“Then why am I here with you now?” she asked in return.

When Masumi responded, his voice was serious. “You’re human, but you were born with the ability to heighten your wavelength. Ages ago, there used to be plenty of people like you, but these days they’re an endangered species. There are some people who can learn to heighten their wavelength just a little through practice, and those people can see ghosts. Still, there really aren’t many people who can change the actual wavelength of the space around them. That’s what you can do.”

“When you say wavelength… Are you talking about how I break computers and cellphones?”

Masumi let out a short laugh, hearing the moment when Izumiko realized what he was talking about.

“That has to do with wavelengths too, but everything has its own wavelength. In this world, things made of matter, from minerals to organisms, exist within the range of short wavelengths. Electromagnetic waves and light have slightly longer wavelengths. Spirits exist in a range of much longer wavelengths than organisms. To put it simply, they’re on a different stage.”

Izumiko was surprised. “You know a lot about this. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were the sort of person who put a lot of time into thinking things through and figuring them out.”

Masumi brought a hand up to the bun on top of his head, and brightened ever so slightly.

“Nah… I don’t really think things through that much. I didn’t even realize I was a dream for a long time. I only figured it out when you were dancing in front of the stone door in Togakushi.”

Izumiko recalled how she had done this in order to get Manatsu back. There had been a stone door behind which the sleeping Nine Headed Dragon God had been sleeping. She had found it while trying to help look for Manatsu.

“Speaking of that time, when Manatsu came out of the door, you disappeared instead. We hadn’t seen you since then until this festival.”

“I woke up for an instant then. But then I fell back to sleep right after that and everything just went back to the way it had been before. Now though, I know that I don’t have a regular body and that I’m just a dream. My actual body is huge, and it has a massive store of knowledge.”

Izumiko didn’t respond for a moment after Manatsu answered her, but then she said, “Umm… Well, Masumi? I saw the giant snake come out of the stone door. I don’t really want to say that’s you if I can help it. It’s just kind of uncomfortable…”

“Okay. Then we won’t say that’s me. The Nine Headed Dragon God, as you called it, is just a reflection of the image humans had of that spirit a long time ago. There were young triplets who weren’t scared of the god. That’s why I became what I am now.”

Izumiko gazed at Masumi as she took in what he had said, a strange feeling growing in her chest. Masumi did not consider himself to be one of the triplets anymore. That much was becoming clear.

“You really are a god in Togakushi, aren’t you, Masumi…”

“I am.”

Masumi nodded and then was quiet. After a moment, he continued. “Eventually, I’ll probably devour Mayura or Manatsu. That’ll be the conclusion of the dream, so I can’t be sad about it or anything like that. Mayura refuses to see the great problem that is life and death. It’s just the reality of wavelengths of matter. But lately I’ve started thinking that you’re better than anything else.”

“Do you mean you’d rather eat me?” Izumiko asked, unalarmed despite herself.

“Our friends might say that. As you know, I like to eat a lot. But seeing as you’re a person with a very high wavelength, I don’t think I could really eat you like I could a normal person. In other words, what I’m saying is I want you to be with me. I don’t want you to be alone,” Masumi told her gently. “I mean, I like you, Izumiko.”

After a moment of shock, Izumiko finally thought, Could this be my first confession in my life?...

But then, she told herself, of course not. She pulled herself back. She was just being vain.

I’m wrong. I’m just the one who’s teaching Masumi about liking people. He just said he wants to eat me.

“Do you dislike me? Have you thought about that?” Masumi asked, suddenly alarmed.

Izumiko smiled a little, thinking of how he was impossible to dislike. She shook her head and her long hair slid over her body. “I don’t dislike you, but I don’t know what I feel.”

“Is that why you don’t want to go back to school? Do you not want to go back to being together with humans? Seeing as you’re such an unusual human, you could live with the humans or you could live in this dimension. So let’s be here together. I’d make sure you never got bored, and you wouldn’t be alone for a hundred years.”

“A hundred years?”

“For sure,” Manatsu said brightly.

If this really was a confession, it was one on a grand scale, Izumiko thought.

“…That’s a long time. Would I be aware of all that time passing? Is there some sort of guarantee that we wouldn’t start hating each other? We haven’t really spent a lot of time together yet. We don’t know each other that well.”

“You know what my true form is capable of. And I like you so much that I can’t stop looking at you. Let me show you how much fun we would have together.”

“I have a feeling that I’ll never enjoy anything ever again…” Izumiko said. Her words made her want to cry. Even though she had never shed a tear when she had been prepared to live in solitude for the rest of eternity, they welled embarrassingly up now in front of Masumi.

Masumi leaned forward and said soothingly, “Don’t cry. This place is different from the academy. It’s a world I thought up. We can change it however we want…. For example…”

He gently placed his hands on Izumiko’s arms. She didn’t feel anything at all as the kuroko outfit turned into the red and gold brocade over-kimono outfit she had worn to the kimono demonstration with its vine and hexagonal pattern. However, the unbelievable weight of the outfit which she had experienced that day was nowhere to be seen. The material itself felt the same, but the outfit didn’t weight any more than the kuroko costume had.

“It’s so light…”

“That’s right. It’s because of the difference in wavelengths here.”

Izumiko glanced up at Masumi who was looking pleased with himself, and asked, “Why do you want me to be a princess? Do you want me to wear this sort of clothing all the time if I stay with you?”

“I’m a boy because I came from the same egg as Manatsu. You said that yourself. I can recreate the Warring States era much better than a school festival can. If you want something more exciting, it doesn’t just have to be the two of us living together out here alone. We can live exciting lives. If you want to live extravagantly, we can live extravagantly, too.”

“I don’t want any…”

As Izumiko began to speak, she noticed that Masumi’s outfit was changing little by little. The battle surcoat’s color became more subdued. Then the entire outfit changed. The surcoat became a casual, sleeveless robe worn over a kimono and hakama pants. He looked like a samurai during peacetime.

“Houjou Ujiteru’s wife, Lady Hisa, survived the fall of the castle. However, her wish to see her husband again was never fulfilled. I don’t want to recreate that unhappy ending.”

Am I… Lady Hisa? Izumiko thought in confusion.

As she considered this, she heard voices she recognized from before.

“My lady.”

“My lady.”

“How fortuitous. The lord has returned.”

A number of women dressed in kimono were now surrounding Izumiko. With Masumi’s hands still on her red clothed shoulders, Izumiko felt as if they had been caught in an intimate moment.

“My lady, please come this way.”

“Come this way, my lady. We have prepared a small feast for you and your husband.”

While the figures of the woman were dim, it was still clear for anyone to see that all of them were smiling as they spoke. Masumi smiled as well.

“Everyone’s been worried about their mistress all this time. If the two of us return to the palace’s main hall, they’ll be ecstatic. We’ll have moon viewing feasts, and flower viewing feasts, and have fun going out on the lake on boats. We’d rekindle an ancient love story and live a luxurious life.”

Izumiko unconsciously found herself wanting the life Masumi described.

If I stay here forever, no one would ever have to see me again…

Keep reading!

[lightsandlostbells]

Skam France episode 5

Wanted to say thank you to all translators of this show … it’s really generous to keep up with the clips, especially on top of how many social media updates there are. You are the best <3

Episode 5 reaction

Clip 1: coffee with Lucas

This scene felt so sterile to me? Largely because of how it is shot. The coloring is cool and blue, not bright and warm (watch the original clip and notice the stark difference), there are these big windows taking up part of the frame and this table with almost nothing on it that puts all this space between the camera and the characters. Part of this conversation is filmed at table-level, not at eye or face level, and it feels so removed. The space between them and their body language makes it look like an awkward first date and one of them is going to fake a sick grandmother in order to leave in 10 minutes. 

I don’t know what to make of Lucas’ performance here. It’s like he enters the cafe knowing something is up and he’s alert to any relationship dysfunction. Almost like he’s humoring Emma. And he’s holding back amusement at her troubled romance with Yann.

I mean, if they’re keeping Isak’s involvement in this season much the same as in the original, Lucas bothers me a lot more? Because honestly, Isak’s meddling seemed more opportunistic than anything. I don’t think he had a grand master plan to break up Jonas and Eva, I think was just stumbling onto chances to mess with them and (with telling people about Eva and Chris) acting impulsively/drunkenly. That doesn’t excuse him, but I also don’t think he was sitting down and making bullet points about how to break them up. Lucas … I’m not saying he has a grand master plan and he’s writing bullet points, but this seems like he’s putting more effort into playing her. Like his “good advice” feels more like an act. Maybe it was Tarjei’s acting but I think he did a good balance of Isak being a snake but also kind of not keeping it entirely under control. You can see him start to smirk a little when he questions Eva about why she’s with Jonas. With Lucas, the way he walks in kind of smirking about Yann and Emma’s problems and then puts on this wide-eyed, concerned tone once he’s feeding her bad advice is a little alarming. 

Might be worth asking whether people have a different read on that original scene with Isak and Eva. Because I always thought Isak met up with her not really anticipating that she was going to ask about Jonas, and only caught on due to the nature of her questions, and pounced on that. But maybe other people thought he was expecting this conversation when he walked into the cafe?

If I wasn’t aware of the storyline, I’m not sure what I’d think here. On social media, Lucas and Emma seem to be pretty close and always doing goofy stuff together with Yann, but this really doesn’t feel like a conversation between friends. 

Clip 2: Daphne’s O-tales

I did like the opening shot leading into the girls on the bench.

FOR FUCK’S SAKE, CHARLES. Wrap up your dick. You grown-ass man.

Actually, adding a scene in which they establish Daphne buying condoms, only to tell us that Charles didn’t bother, makes him seem so so much worse.

Between Emma and Manon, the hat game was strong in this clip.

I wrote a post about this but Manon does seem like a more genial, easygoing kind of person than Noora. I like her and found her sweet here; her feminist comments are more gentle than Noora’s. But she’s also less forceful and confident, and that’s perhaps why some people are finding her more forgettable.

Wow Charles comes across like a MASSIVE dong here. Way more so than William. William kind of hurriedly walked by Vilde and kept his eyes averted and muttered hello. Charles seemed like he wanted to establish eye contact with Daphne for the specific purpose of ignoring her.

I did like that Emma approaching Alex seems like a more deliberate fuck-you to Yann. 

Daphne is so cute.

Clip 3 - Emma and Yann argue, then make up

The POV. …. ARGH

Whyyyyy did the camera follow Yann. Why.

Rewinding a bit, Yann and Emma are so much more forward then Jonas and Eva. Eva was a little hesitant to bring up the issue with Ingrid and Jonas was floundering a little when coming up with a story. You could see he wasn’t totally confident in his lie. Emma just gets straight to the point and Yann fires back at her. They’re very assertive in this argument. It’s way more confrontational, as are many things about their relationship.

Though it’s worth mentioning that when Eva did bring up Ingrid to Jonas, she was pretty assertive. She was reluctant at first but she held her ground.

Yann is so much more of a giant asshole in this conversation! He keeps telling her she’s annoying. Now Jonas told Eva to stop being insecure all the time and that also stings, but Yann is really out of line. He also seems a lot more aggressive when he asks if Emma wants a break. Jonas seemed fearful that Eva really wanted a break. Yann doesn’t say it like he’s scared of her saying yes. He just throws it in her face. 

I’m glad that Emma sticks up for herself and tells Yann not to speak to her that way because it was really inappropriate. (To a degree, though, I’m like … Eva’s character arc doesn’t exactly map onto Emma, it won’t feel as earned if they try to keep it exact.)

I do like this song. I’ve liked it before the show and when I saw it in the credits I was waiting for it to show up.

So this part in the original is very distinctive, when the camera keeps Eva and Jonas at a distance, and we watch them fight and make up without hearing them. It’s especially memorable because of how Skam tends to put us up close with the characters’ emotions, and in this instance they don’t let us in on the conversation. And I can see why Skam France didn’t want to just recreate that, because even though they’re redoing much of the original series, to redo that scene exactly as the original is … sort of pushing it. So I get it, they wanted to find a different outcome for the scene, but it really annoyed me that they went with this because of the choice of POV.

Emma walks away and they keep the camera on Yann. We see him make the decision to go after her while the music plays dramatically. But this is so strange, because it puts the emotional emphasis on Yann and his thought process when this is Emma’s season. We should see her thought process, we should have seen her walk away from the table heartbroken and upset and angry, done with Yann’s bullshit. It’s her decision not to put up with it anymore, it’s her development, her emotional state as a character. It’s just really odd that all of a sudden they gave this moment to Yann.

A comparison would be toward the end of season 2, when William is leaving for the airport and we see Noora walk away and call Eva on the phone. We see her emotional reaction to William leaving, all the way up to the car pulling up in the background and William going to her. We could have had that here, where we see Emma distraught and eventually see Yann run after her in the background. I just don’t like that they shut us out of this very important emotional moment for our lead character. We didn’t even see her face as she was walking away.

I know the original show didn’t stick to the POV of the protagonist 100%  of the time, but it did for the most part, and when it diverged during the season they were typically very brief moments. Off the top of my head, I can’t think of a comparable scene where most of the camera work and the emotional emphasis went to the love interest rather than the protagonist. It would be as if William got in the car and we saw him thinking it over as Penetrator Chris drove away, and we saw him tell Chris to go back, and we followed him as he went back to Noora. Or if, for example in season 3 when Even leaves the hotel room, we follow him as he goes out in the streets naked and we leave Isak behind. IDK, it’s just bizarre and a blatant divergence from the show’s structure. 

Clip 4 - Daphne, Daphne, Daphne

The intro effect was kind of odd, as if the girls had been plunged into a nightmare from which there was no escape and it was all about Daphne nonstop telling us about Charles.

I don’t know if we’re supposed to take Charles’ texts as legitimately about his basketball game or him just giving Daphne some BS excuses, but the part with him saying “the coach is putting so much pressure on me” is a thing I hope is real. Give Charles some motivation outside of his love life.

Alex asking for the topless pic of Daphne - well hello. Can this be foreshadowing for gay/bi Alex?

I actually like how this scene was paced and how the girls were kind of humoring her until it got to be too much.

So I found some of Imane’s previous interaction with Daphne unnecessarily mean, because it felt like she was putting down Daphne even when Daphne hadn’t merited that reaction (rather than being a response to Daphne saying something ignorant) but I liked her more here even though this is the most blunt she’s been so far. Maybe because she had a real reason to be blunt.

Also I haven’t commented on the social media much but there are texts where Imane acknowledges how harsh she was and says she will apologize to Daphne, which is nice. 

I think some of why Imane can come across harsher than Sana is because Daphne doesn’t really push back as much as Vilde did. Vilde would seem pretty steamed about the way Sana talked to her (like shushing her) even if she didn’t argue to her face. She was still mad about it to the other girls. In this scene she openly asked why Sana is rude to her. Daphne doesn’t even stand up for herself here, she just leaves upset.

Imane’s words about guys also resonate with Yann’s dramatic speech (showering you with compliments, etc.)

Clip 5 - Horror Comics

Right off the bat, I LOVE the costumes. Love love love. I would have the time of my life going to a party like this.

Alex as Annabelle and Manon as Georgie from It <3

The opening is a fun way to set up the party vibe and establish Daphne looking wistfully at Charles. I don’t know if this was intentional, but Harley Quinn is absolutely the costume you would wear if you were trying to get a guy’s attention. I don’t mean that in a “fake geek girls” way or that Harley cosplayers do so to look good for men. There’s just a sexual connotation with the character that doesn’t exist in demonic dolls or little boys in rain slickers who get murdered by evil clowns.

Alex sitting on the couch and not moving, just smiling creepily, is so perfect and IC for her costume, I love it.

Not to sound like a creep but Ingrid looked kind of hot in her horror makeup. 

I waver between whether they’re trying to make Raptor Alex/Emma a legit ship or to make him more of a jerk. Because kissing her forehead might seem kind of sweet, but then it’s like … oh yeah, that is actually inappropriate to do to a girl you barely know who has a boyfriend. And he doesn’t seem happy that she pushed him away.

It’s kind of funny to me that Camille is giving her this very, very teenage advice. Honey, at least one of you is in her 20s.

Camille is a sweetheart and I liked that she offered her number to Emma.

But also … the look of her confusion on her face as Emma left … c’mon dudes. I don’t mind little things like this, but you know, you can establish that suspicion/confusion while Emma is in the room witnessing it, like when Camille first walks in on her and Alex. That’s enough. We’re good.

The shot of Daphne watching Charles (with some random girl, btw, not Sara) was very Dramatique~ but I thought it was well done. Daphne sold it with her heartbreaking reaction.

Oh, Charles dressed as the Joker! That is actually great. Did Daphne know that he was going to dress that way, and planned to go as Harley Quinn accordingly? Or was it a coincidence? I’m going to take it as planned; she found out and decided to have a matching outfit with him, as a sort of couples’ costume. Even though he probably didn’t know about it. Ouch, Daphne.

(Was that an Edward Cullen at the party when Emma leaves? Lmao.)

The reveal of Yann smoking weed is dumb when Emma straight up saw Not Elias smoking with Yann and Lucas at the cabin. Like did it not occur to her…

And Yann posts about smoking weed on IG, what the fuck, this shouldn’t be too much of a surprise.

It really doesn’t make sense when Yann says that he didn’t tell Emma about smoking weed because of exactly the reaction she was having that moment, when Emma is just like, okay you’re smoking weed, meh. Eva actually got upset that Jonas was smoking weed and treated it like it was a big deal, so that made sense for him to say he didn’t tell her due to her predicted freakout. Emma barely gives a shit about Yann smoking weed and openly says so. She was more upset that he hadn’t told her and had lied. Yann is then like, well I didn’t tell you because of the reaction you’re having now. What?? So you lied to her about smoking weed … because you were afraid of her reaction where she is upset that you lied to her about smoking weed. The fuck? 

Sometimes I get the sense that they go through the scripts and make superficial changes but don’t bother with follow-through. Like someone said, “I don’t think Emma would care about him smoking marijuana,” so they changed that part, but stopped there without considering whether the dialogue and character motivations still made sense. This isn’t the first moment like this but it’s probably the most important, since Yann’s behavior in the first half of the season hinges on it.

Props to them for having some silence in this conversation, and for having Yann kiss Emma on the forehead - repeating the gesture Alex did earlier, unintentionally twisting the knife. Although the dialogue went a little OTT, as did Yann’s following text message, in terms of dramatic irony. I TRUST YOU SO MUCH EMMA, I’M SO HAPPY WE PUT THE LIES BEHIND US, I WAS STUPID TO THINK WE COULDN’T TELL EACH OTHER EVERYTHING. We get it. You don’t have to bang us over the head.

General Comments:

Daphne is still my favorite part of the show. Between her stealing the show and Lucas being not all that great so far, give her S3. 

Maybe I should get used to the POV not being as tight, but then you have to ask … what is the point of sticking to the story from Emma’s POV, other than the original doing it? For example, I’m watching the new season of Jessica Jones. The show is about Jessica Jones. She is the main character and has an arc. But she’s not the only character with development. The supporting cast has scenes without her, with their own story arcs, where they acquire information and do things that Jessica Jones does not know about. There’s nothing wrong with this because it’s the setup of the show. In fact it’s the setup of most shows. 

On the other hand, Skam’s one-person POV is pretty rare in terms of television shows. Actually I am struggling to think of another series told exclusively from another person’s perspective for more than a special episode. If you think about it, it’s rather inconvenient for most overarching plots. So why would you consciously choose this rather limited format? What is the benefit of it? To immerse yourself in the main’s head, to walk through their struggles and triumphs. If you’re going to cut that character out of their own emotional reactions, then why not do the multi-POV? And if you’re sticking to the single POV, then yeah, it is sloppy and worth mentioning. 

I mean, if you’re writing a book, you’ll be advised to keep your POV consistent. A novel with third person limited POV will receive criticism for messy writing if it strays. Harry Potter books don’t randomly jump to Ron’s POV in the middle of scenes. I feel like the same mindset is applicable here.

Not to Start Shit but at this point I definitely think the whole song and dance about “contractual obligations” to be faithful to the original Skam were mostly said to appease fans who didn’t like that the remake was such a close copy. I was skeptical about it when it was first said, but I mean. We’re now past the halfway mark, past when we were supposedly going to have the season diverge, but uh, it’s not. They have clearly been able to change some small things and add a few scenes here and there, so what exactly were these nebulous conditions that the remake had to follow? Did Julie Andem hand them an outline and say, “Here, you gotta do all the stuff on this list but go wild with everything else?” 

I’ll happily admit to my mistakes if there are more official details on the remakes’ obligation to the original, and with four episodes left they could still throw a few curveballs. But do I think that’s likely to happen? Nah, not really. Possibly a slightly different outcome for Yann and Emma. I think maybe they’ll omit some scenes and some smaller story points for time reasons, but that’s it.

[secrettimetravelparadise]

Subha

When the girl was given the name of Subhashini, who could have guessed that she would prove dumb? Her two elder sisters were Sukeshini and Suhasini, and for the sake of uniformity her father named his youngest girl Subhashini. She was called Subha for short.

Her two elder sisters had been married with the usual cost and difficulty, and now the youngest daughter lay like a silent weight upon the heart of her parents. All the world seemed to think that, because she did not speak, therefore she did not feel; it discussed her future and its own anxiety freely in her presence. She had understood from her earliest childhood that God had sent her like a curse to her father's house, so she withdrew herself from ordinary people and tried to live apart. If only they would all forget her she felt she could endure it. But who can forget pain? Night and day her parents' minds were aching on her account. Especially her mother looked upon her as a deformity in herself. To a mother a daughter is a more closely intimate part of herself than a son can be; and a fault in her is a source of personal shame. Banikantha, Subha's father, loved her rather better than his other daughters; her mother regarded her with aversion as a stain upon her own body.

If Subha lacked speech, she did not lack a pair of large dark eyes, shaded with long lashes; and her lips trembled like a leaf in response to any thought that rose in her mind.

When we express our thought in words, the medium is not found easily. There must be a process of translation, which is often inexact, and then we fall into error. But black eyes need no translating; the mind itself throws a shadow upon them. In them thought opens or shuts, shines forth or goes out in darkness, hangs steadfast like the setting moon or like the swift and restless lightning illumines all quarters of the sky. They who from birth have had no other speech than the trembling of their lips learn a language of the eyes, endless in expression, deep as the sea, clear as the heavens, wherein play dawn and sunset, light and shadow. The dumb have a lonely grandeur like Nature's own. Wherefore the other children almost dreaded Subha and never played with her. She was silent and companionless as noontide.

The hamlet where she lived was Chandipur. Its river, small for a river of Bengal, kept to its narrow bounds like a daughter of the middle class. This busy streak of water never overflowed its banks, but went about its duties as though it were a member of every family in the villages beside it. On either side were houses and banks shaded with trees. So stepping from her queenly throne, the river-goddess became a garden deity of each home, and forgetful of herself performed her task of endless benediction with swift and cheerful foot.

Banikantha's house looked out upon the stream. Every hut and stack in the place could be seen by the passing boatmen. I know not if amid these signs of worldly wealth any one noticed the little girl who, when her work was done, stole away to the waterside and sat there. But here Nature fulfilled her want of speech and spoke for her. The murmur of the brook, the voice of the village folk, the songs of the boatmen, the crying of the birds and rustle of trees mingled and were one with the trembling of her heart. They became one vast wave of sound which beat upon her restless soul. This murmur and movement of Nature were the dumb girl's language; that speech of the dark eyes, which the long lashes shaded, was the language of the world about her. From the trees, where the cicalas chirped, to the quiet stars there was nothing but signs and gestures, weeping and sighing. And in the deep mid-noon, when the boatmen and fisher-folk had gone to their dinner, when the villagers slept and birds were still, when the ferry-boats were idle, when the great busy world paused in its toil and became suddenly a lonely, awful giant, then beneath the vast impressive heavens there were only dumb Nature and a dumb girl, sitting very silent,—one under the spreading sunlight, the other where a small tree cast its shadow.

But Subha was not altogether without friends. In the stall were two cows, Sarbbashi and Panguli. They had never heard their names from her lips, but they knew her footfall. Though she had no words, she murmured lovingly and they understood her gentle murmuring better than all speech. When she fondled them or scolded or coaxed them, they understood her better than men could do. Subha would come to the shed and throw her arms round Sarbbashi's neck; she would rub her cheek against her friend's, and Panguli would turn her great kind eyes and lick her face. The girl paid them three regular visits every day and others that were irregular. Whenever she heard any words that hurt her, she would come to these dumb friends out of due time. It was as though they guessed her anguish of spirit from her quiet look of sadness. Coming close to her, they would rub their horns softly against her arms, and in dumb, puzzled fashion try to comfort her. Besides these two, there were goats and a kitten; but Subha had not the same equality of friendship with them, though they showed the same attachment. Every time it got a chance, night or day, the kitten would jump into her lap, and settle down to slumber, and show its appreciation of an aid to sleep as Subha drew her soft fingers over its neck and back.

Subha had a comrade also among the higher animals, and it is hard to say what were the girl's relations with him; for he could speak, and his gift of speech left them without any common language. He was the youngest boy of the Gosains, Pratap by name, an idle fellow. After long effort, his parents had abandoned the hope that he would ever make his living. Now losels have this advantage, that, though their own folk disapprove of them, they are generally popular with every one else. Having no work to chain them, they become public property. Just as every town needs an open space where all may breathe, so a village needs two or three gentlemen of leisure, who can give time to all; then, if we are lazy and want a companion, one is to hand.

Pratap's chief ambition was to catch fish. He managed to waste a lot of time this way, and might be seen almost any afternoon so employed. It was thus most often that he met Subha. Whatever he was about, he liked a companion; and, when one is catching fish, a silent companion is best of all. Pratap respected Subha for her taciturnity, and, as every one called her Subha, he showed his affection by calling her Su. Subha used to sit beneath a tamarind, and Pratap, a little distance off, would cast his line. Pratap took with him a small allowance of betel, and Subha prepared it for him. And I think that, sitting and gazing a long while, she desired ardently to bring some great help to Pratap, to be of real aid, to prove by any means that she was not a useless burden to the world. But there was nothing to do. Then she turned to the Creator in prayer for some rare power, that by an astonishing miracle she might startle Pratap into exclaiming: "My! I never dreamt our Su could have done this!"

Only think, if Subha had been a water nymph, she might have risen slowly from the river, bringing the gem of a snake's crown to the landing-place. Then Pratap, leaving his paltry fishing, might dive into the lower world, and see there, on a golden bed in a palace of silver, whom else but dumb little Su, Banikantha's child? Yes, our Su, the only daughter of the king of that shining city of jewels! But that might not be, it was impossible. Not that anything is really impossible, but Su had been born, not into the royal house of Patalpur, but into Banikantha's family, and she knew no means of astonishing the Gosains' boy.

Gradually she grew up. Gradually she began to find herself. A new inexpressible consciousness like a tide from the central places of the sea, when the moon is full, swept through her. She saw herself, questioned herself, but no answer came that she could understand.

Once upon a time, late on a night of full moon, she slowly opened her door and peeped out timidly. Nature, herself at full moon, like lonely Subha, was looking down on the sleeping earth. Her strong young life beat within her; joy and sadness filled her being to its brim; she reached the limits even of her own illimitable loneliness, nay, passed beyond them. Her heart was heavy, and she could not speak. At the skirts of this silent troubled Mother there stood a silent troubled girl.

The thought of her marriage filled her parents with an anxious care. People blamed them, and even talked of making them outcasts. Banikantha was well off; they had fish-curry twice daily; and consequently he did not lack enemies. Then the women interfered, and Bani went away for a few days. Presently he returned and said: "We must go to Calcutta."

They got ready to go to this strange country. Subha's heart was heavy with tears, like a mist-wrapt dawn. With a vague fear that had been gathering for days, she dogged her father and mother like a dumb animal. With her large eyes wide open, she scanned their faces as though she wished to learn something. But not a word did they vouchsafe. One afternoon in the midst of all this, as Pratap was fishing, he laughed: "So then, Su, they have caught your bridegroom, and you are going to be married! Mind you don't forget me altogether!" Then he turned his mind again to his fish. As a stricken doe looks in the hunter's face, asking in silent agony: "What have I done to you?" so Subha looked at Pratap. That day she sat no longer beneath her tree. Banikantha, having finished his nap, was smoking in his bedroom when Subha dropped down at his feet and burst out weeping as she gazed towards him. Banikantha tried to comfort her, and his cheek grew wet with tears.

It was settled that on the morrow they should go to Calcutta. Subha went to the cow-shed to bid farewell to her childhood's comrades. She fed them with her hand; she clasped their necks; she looked into their faces, and tears fell fast from the eyes which spoke for her. That night was the tenth of the moon. Subha left her room, and flung herself down on her grassy couch beside her dear river. It was as if she threw her arms about Earth, her strong silent mother, and tried to say: "Do not let me leave you, mother. Put your arms about me, as I have put mine about you, and hold me fast."

One day in a house in Calcutta, Subha's mother dressed her up with great care. She imprisoned her hair, knotting it up in laces, she hung her about with ornaments, and did her best to kill her natural beauty. Subha's eyes filled with tears. Her mother, fearing they would grow swollen with weeping, scolded her harshly, but the tears disregarded the scolding. The bridegroom came with a friend to inspect the bride. Her parents were dizzy with anxiety and fear when they saw the god arrive to select the beast for his sacrifice. Behind the stage, the mother called her instructions aloud, and increased her daughter's weeping twofold, before she sent her into the examiner's presence. The great man, after scanning her a long time, observed: "Not so bad."

He took special note of her tears, and thought she must have a tender heart. He put it to her credit in the account, arguing that the heart, which to-day was distressed at leaving her parents, would presently prove a useful possession. Like the oyster's pearls, the child's tears only increased her value, and he made no other comment.

The almanac was consulted, and the marriage took place on an auspicious day. Having delivered over their dumb girl into another's hands, Subha's parents returned home. Thank God! Their caste in this and their safety in the next world were assured! The bridegroom's work lay in the west, and shortly after the marriage he took his wife thither.

In less than ten days every one knew that the bride was dumb! At least, if any one did not, it was not her fault, for she deceived no one. Her eyes told them everything, though no one understood her. She looked on every hand, she found no speech, she missed the faces, familiar from birth, of those who had understood a dumb girl's language. In her silent heart there sounded an endless, voiceless weeping, which only the Searcher of Hearts could hear. 

     - Rabindranath Tagore

[boystownbirdie]

LMWTV4U: GOT S7E2

It’s time for another installment of let me watch TV for you (LMWTV4U) where I watch TV shows so you don’t have to! Today I’ll be re-capping the latest ep of Game of Thrones, Season 7.

As always, spoiler alert! Also, reminder that I have a new feature called WHY DOES THIS SCENE EVEN MATTER or (WDTSEM?) to help us decipher those random scenes that seemingly serve no purpose. SO MUCH HAPPENED TONIGHT SO LET’S GO!!!!!

We start at Dragonstone where Khaleesi and co are still strategizin’

Khaleesi’s pals are trying to get her to attack QPC ASAP but she’s not really havin’ it. She proceeds to rip Sleevey a new a-hole for his lack of loyalty. If you’ll recall Sleevey is a schemer and is the one who basically brought together all of Khaleesi’s current crew but also was the one who sent assassins to kill Khaleesi back in season 1. She’s like will you be loyal 2 me? And he’s like sure...until I’m not anymore. And then you can kill me. And she’s like kewl good plan also will you lemme know if I’m doing a bad job as Kween and he’s like yep, sure.

Next, the red witch lady (who Bae sent away at the end of Season 6 because she burned alive this sweet bb gurl but also who brought him back from the dead) shows up on Khaleesi’s doorstep. Khaleesi is like hey what up I also speak the fanciest language and your religion is #trending back home and helping to keep people calm so… thanks. And the witch lady is like great, also FYI Bae is pretty fine and just got named “King of the North” thought you should know. Tyrion, who is like basically vice president, is like ya I remember Bae he was a kewl kid we met in Season 1. Obvi Khaleesi doesn’t know that Bae is her nephew yet but she’s like, well let’s invite him to hang out here but he’s got to #bowdownbitches to moi.

Later in the ep, we pop back by Dragonstone and Khaleesi is meeting with her peeps in the map room. Previously-traumatized Theon’s (PTT’s) sister is like we should launch our armies and dragons on Queen Pixie Cut (QPC) like right now please because she’s a shady bitch. And then the Sand Queen (she’s the one whose daughters are called the “Sand Snakes” and who stabbed her brother in law and took over down South last season) is like BTW I hate the Lannisters and my hubby got his head squeezed to death 2 seasons ago when he was defending YOUR honor, Tyrion and I’m not over it. And also Queen Makeunder’s (who got ‘sploded last season) grandma is there and she is like I miss my granddaughter and also you shouldn’t worry about burning up innocent people with dragons because QPC did it and now look at her!

Khaleesi is like I #respectmyelders but also, naw dawg. She decides PTT’s sis and Sand Queen will head down south and round up all of their troops together then they’ll attack QPC slowly because she can’t bring her Dothraki dudes and Unsullied troops over there it would be CHAOS. She does decide to send the unsullied troops to Tyrion’s hometown, Casterly Rock, to take that place over. Everyone is pretty on board with this plan except for Grandma so Khaleesi’s like DM- me, k? Khaleesi and grandma sit down and gma is like you should not trust Tyrion, this plan is dumb. Also, you ARE a dragon. And Khaleesi is like thnx for the inspo but.... I don’t wanna burn everyone up. 

Then, Khaleesi’s bestie/translator who is FLY AS HELL and has the coolest outfits and hairstyles, goes to talk to Greyworm, the leader of the unsullied army. These 2 have had the hots for eachother forever, so it’s no surprise when they FINALLY HOOKUP YAASSS GAGA! If you’ll recall the unsullied are all castrated as kids so he’s kinda embarrassed about his lack-of-package, but hottie translator is like NBD let’s do this. And so he, much like Jon Snow season 3, is like NBD lemme go down on you and she is LOVING IT. And it’s a great scene because we haven’t had nearly as much sensuality on GoT in the past few years and we needed it.

Let’s stop in Winterfell to check in on Bae and Sansa, shall we?

That letter that Khaleesi mailed to Bae has already arrived and Bae is like I know it’s legit because Tyrion put an inside joke in there that only he and I would get, OK? Sansa is like yep I was briefly married to Tyrion against both of our wills and he was v nice to me and treated me well. And No-Knuckles is there too and he’s like fire kills those ice zombies and dragons = fire and everyone is like sure but can we trust her?

Later in the ep, Bae gets the letter that his bestie, Sam, sent him in last week’s ep about how there’s heaps o’ dragonglass under dragonstone. Bae is like ok now that I’ve got these 2 very informative letters, I need to go see Khaleesi. All of his pals/ people loyal to him are like BAD IDEA, BAE don’t leave us we need you. And Sansa is like ya dude you can’t just leave and then no one’s in charge over here and he’s like LEAN IN GURL YOU DA KWEEN OF WINTERFELL. And she’s like I guess I never considered that but Ok, fine.

Then Bae stops by to visit their dad’s grave (well actually his uncle but he doesn’t know yet) and Littlefinger comes creepin’ around like hey remember how your stepmom was always mean to you? I was in love with her! And Bae’s like GTFO. And Littlefinger is like #you’rewelcome #dwaynetherockjohnsoninmoana  for helping you win this place back last season. And Bae is like don’t touch Sansa, k?

WDTSEM? We’re supposed to think Sansa might just take Littlefinger’s advice and do some sort of plot to take over from Bae, especially now that they’re fighting on the regs and now she’s all in charge. Personally, I think Sansa is smarter than that and also she’s made it quite clear that she’s grossed out by Littlefinger, esp his obsession with her mom. WHO KNOWS what will happen, but this last scene is probably supposed to plant some seeds of doubt.

We briefly touch base in King’s Landing with QPC…

She’s sitting on the coveted throne-of-swords and telling people how awful Khaleesi is. She’s like ya…. She’s gonna burn y’all up with her dragons. And everyone is like but remember last season when you burned up half of this city? Sam’s dad is there and he was a major dick last season and nothing seems to have changed in that department. QPC’s bro/lover, Jamie, is like will you please fight for us? And he’s like I would but I promised that grandma (who is currently #teamKhaleesi) that I’d be loyal to her so… no. But Jamie is like well if you change your mind I can put you in charge and you can forget about grandma. He doesn’t seem convinced but we’ll see.

Later in the ep, QPC checks out some dragon skulls with the “maester” because now that Khaleesi has these dragons, she’s gotta figure something out. He shows her this giant crossbow/catapult thing he’s made that can kill dragons and she’s like wow kewl.

We also briefly check in with Sam in “Old Town”

He’s still interning at the maester-training-academy and he’s treating Khaleesi’s former bestie, Stoney, who has that terrible skin-turning-to-stone disease. Sam’s boss is like sorry, Stoney, you’re done-zo, you have to go live with the stonemen. And Sam is like hold up, you’re a Mormont? My old boss when I was in the celibate-dude-ice-wall-guarding-army was your dad and he was a badass. Also, I had to watch these creepy dudes stab him so I owe your fam. He tries to talk about cures for the Stone disease but his boss is like SHUT UP YOU’RE JUST AN INTERN!

So Sam comes back that night and is like ok would it be kewl with you if I perform surgery on you, Stoney? I am just an intern and I’ve never practiced this before but let’s try it. And then we have to watch a truly disgusting surgical-removal of stone-skin that honestly even writing about it I’m dry heaving.

Arya is still on the road, headed to kill QPC last we checked…

She stops in to this pub to see an old friend name HOT PIE (that’s his real name, not a nickname) who is a wonderful chef. She eats some of his bread and drinks some beer and he keeps asking her questions but she is REALLY EVASIVE and won’t look him in the eye. He asks about Ladyknight, who we know is now working for Sansa full time, but who previously was trying to find Arya too. Arya is like, ya, she found me but then I had to head east to the face-swapping-assassin-training-academy. And he’s like you should check out Winterfell because I know you’re secretly a Stark. And she’s like NO THANKS, the Boltons are in charge over there and I don’t wanna get skinned alive. And he’s like NAW BITCH your bro, Bae, is in charge over there now. Which I guess in all of her travels she still didn’t know this? IDK seems fishy. But then she’s getting ready to leave and is about to keep heading to kill QPC but then CHANGES HER MIND AND HEADS TOWARD WINTERFELL! It was a very sweet moment in the episode and full disclosure I did tear up a little.

WDTSEM? Arya, in her current life as an assassin, has lost some of her humanity, as shown when she can’t even look her old pal in the eye. But finding out that her bro is still alive and that her old home, Winterfell, is in the Starks’ hands again has changed her. After meeting Ed Sheeran last week and his whole crew who reminded her of the importance of home and being with family, she’s finally deciding there are more important things in life than revenge. Which is kind of sweet.

Later, she stops for the night and is trying to stay warm by a fire when her horse starts gettin’ real spooked. Suddenly a pack of giant wolves (which are totally her brand because #stark) surrounds her, and she realizes one of them is her old pet who she set free back in season 1. She’s like hey.... Remember me… we were friends? And the wolf is like ummm… new phone who dis? And she’s like please come with me, I’m headed home. But the wolf is like sorz, can’t. And she says “that’s not you.” IDK if she means this is literally not her old pet or if she’s saying this feral version of you with a pack of wolves is not the wolf I knew. It doesn’t take a TV genius to figure out wolf = Arya and she’s conflicted between her new “feral side” and her old, daughter of a Stark side.

Our last scene is A DOOZY and it takes place on the high seas…

PTT and his sis are headed south with the Sand Queen (SQ) lady per Khaleesi’s instructions. We get a quick scene with her daughters, the Sand Snakes, just to remind us they’re all badasses and then we check in on SQ, PTT and his sis. SQ is like why do you keep your bro around he’s always acting all previously-traumatized. And his sis is like he protects me, but SQ is like you don’t need protection… and she and the sis start touching each other. PTT is like that’s my cue to leave, but just as some hawt SQ on PTT-sis action is about to go down, their ship is under attack. PTT and sis head upstairs and it turns out their crazy Uncle has come to find them! 

He sets all of their ships on fire and is tearing through all of their armies. The Sand Snakes put up a fight but sadly are taken out one-by-one. SQ is captured and is like, please kill me, but they do not. Then PTT’s sis and uncle go head to head. PTT’s sis is a major badass but uncle crazy-pants has craziness on his side and also captures her. He’s holding her hostage, about to cut her throat, so PTT is like ummmmmm….idk what to do. He’s clearly having some serious PTSD, so rather than make any decision, he jumps off the boat. His sis seems v v disappointed because she was literally just bragging about how he can protect her. He survives but is last seen floating sadly, watching all of their ships burn and his sis get taken away…

WDTSEM? Remember last week when uncle crazy-pants came to see QPC and bragged about having 2 hands? Well he promised to bring her a gift, and while my initial guess that it would be some sort of dragon-horn was probably off, it seems like the gift he’s bringing are these hostages. He now has the Sand Queen and PTT’s sis, both of whom are v powerful players. Having them to bargain with will be very helpful for QPC, assuming that’s the plan.

Final thoughts:

This ep was actually pretty great, minus the disgusting amateur surgery scenes! The fight scene at the end clearly had a huge budget and it showed- the fiery sparks throughout the entire scene were so cool and we’ve never seen much fighting-at-sea (with ships v. ships instead of ships v. land). The CGI people really did a bang up job if you ask me! #nerdalert

Biggest surprise this ep: I did NOT see that whole attack at the end coming! Also, everything is happening so fast! Everyone is learning about everyone else so quickly. I feel like in past seasons it would have taken us 2 eps at least to get something in the mail but now the mail’s coming 2-3 times an ep!

Biggest letdown:I was hoping, based on the preview, that Bae would really come for Littlefinger and squeeze him real good, but he was pretty gentle. Shoulda known because Bae is not one to strangle willy-nilly but DAMN I am sick of listening to Littlefinger.

Important fashion moments: Khaleesi’s shiny black get up was pretty great and I’m coming around to Sansa’s weird chain necklace.

Who died this ep? The Sand Snakes (RIP) and a bunch of Iron-Islanders (PTT’s people) and probably some Dornish people too (SQ’s people)

Thanks for reading, tell your friends! Check in next week! 

[theswiftreview]

Snake charmers: Medusa, Taylor Swift, and the prevalence of the serpentine woman

With the end of the Rep era upon us I figured I’d make my flagship post an essay I wrote about Taylor, Medusa, and the power of the snake woman.

Where were you when Kim Kardashian called Taylor Swift a snake?

In case you were living under a particularly large, particularly remote rock during this seminal moment in pop culture lore, here’s a refresher:

It’s July 2016 and Taylor Swift is fighting a war on two fronts. Her Instagram comments are flooded with snake emojis after a public breakup and copyright battle with Scottish DJ and producer Calvin Harris. Harris publicly accuses Swift of “trying to bury” him by revealing herself to be a co-writer on Harris’s hit “This Is What You Came For”. Meanwhile, in another corner of Twitter, Swift is fighting a second battle over Kanye West’s song “Famous”, where he claims “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex / I made that bitch famous”. Swift maintains that, though West contacted her before the song was release, he never disclosed the full lyrics, namely the “bitch” line. West’s wife, Kim Kardashian West, gets involved and on July 17, National Snake Day, she administers a final blow in the form of a tweet: “Wait it's legit National Snake Day?!?!?They have holidays for everybody, I mean everything these days!” Kardashian West ended her tweet with a slew of snake emojis. Immediately concerned citizens began leaving thousands of snake emojis in Swift’s Instagram comments and, though Swift employed a St. Patrick-esque filter to drive the snakes out of her social media comments, the damage was done; the name Taylor Swift had become synonymous with “snake”.

Kardashian West’s tweet is probably the closest the 21st century will ever get to experiencing the Shot Heard Round the World. The tweet didn’t even mention Swift but it tapped into a collective understanding that Taylor Swift was a snake.

Snake imagery and folklore has existed in Western tradition in some form or another for millenia, though the meaning is as slimy and elusive as the real-life reptile. Each culture seems to have its own take on what serpents represent, whether they’re virtuous or evil, poisonous or benign.

But what does it really mean to be a snake?

Swift has reclaimed the snake motif and incorporated it into promotional material for her 2017 album reputation. Fans can buy snake rings from her website. They can wear snake t-shirts and buy concert date posters of snakes slithering through the skylines of America’s largest cities. During her reputation Stadium Tour shows, snake imagery was everywhere, from the snakeskin detail on her costumes to the giant inflatable cobras that appear periodically during her performance.

Swift has leaned into her public image as a snake woman, though she is hardly walking on new ground. Swift’s branding as a snake woman, as well as the circumstances surrounding that branding beg a comparison to the mother of all snake women, Medusa.

Even before Snakegate, Swift’s ~reputation~ was veering in a Medusa-like direction. Over the years, Swift’s tendency to write—sometimes critical—songs about her famous exes has made her a target of constant criticism. Her albums have been portrayed in much the same way Perseus describes the walk up to Medusa’s abode: eerily populated by a group of unsuspecting men frozen for all to see in the very moment they had the misfortune of coming into contact with her.

The tale of Medusa is famously recounted in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, though, of course different versions exist. In Ovid’s telling, Medusa is one of three sisters and the only mortal among them. Medusa’s beauty—bolstered by mythically great hair—catches Neptune’s attention and he rapes her in Minerva’s temple. This angers Minerva, who takes revenge upon Medusa. Medusa’s beautiful hair is “woven through with snakes”. She lives in solitude, accompanied only by her snakes and statues until the day Perseus arrives and decapitates her in her sleep. For modern readers, the myth’s blatant victim-blaming is hard to ignore, especially now in the midst of the #MeToo movement.

Medusa is the western canon’s premiere snake woman, but her relationship with the scaly creatures is intriguingly complicated. Medusa is dangerous, yes, but it is not her scalpful of snakes that makes her so. Medusa’s true weapon is her stare, which turns men into solid stone. The snakes, therefore, do not represent danger or violence or even death. Instead, they represent a loss of status and a lapse in justice.

Indeed, Swift’s reputation is built with these same materials. “My castle crumbled overnight...they took the crown but it’s alright,” she sings in “Call It What You Want”, acknowledging the massive hit her popularity took in 2016. Earlier in the album, on “I Did Something Bad”, Swift laments the unfairness of the public trial that played out on the internet, “They’re burning all the witches even if you aren’t one.” The bridge of reputation’s lead single “Look What You Made Me Do” blatantly showcases Swift’s estrangement from the world: “I don’t trust nobody and nobody trusts me”.

With reputation Swift gives us something completely missing from Metamorphoses: the snake woman’s perspective. Notably in Metamorphoses, Medusa’s origin story is told from the perspective of her murderer for the entertainment of others. Medusa’s rape is merely a plot point designed to bolster Perseus’s heroic narrative. Medusa is never allowed the opportunity to speak for herself or take control of her own narrative. On reputation, however, Swift turns the tables on the one-sided snake woman narrative and allows for a more fair interpretation.

Recently, there has been a feminist push to reevaluate the stories and circumstances of the women who populate Greek myth. This charge has been led by Madeline Miller, author of Circe, and Emily Wilson, the first female translator of The Odyssey. Miller and Wilson have repeatedly analyzed the role of translatorial and reader bias in our understanding of mythological women like Medusa.

Since most 21st century readers can’t read Homer in the original Ancient Greek, they lack the tools to critically assess semantic choices influenced by the translator’s own cultural moment and personal biases. These scruples may seem small, but they quickly add up. And, as Swift has reiterated, a bad reputation is hard to shake.

In her detailed translator’s note, Wilson gestures many different places in her translation where she has attempted to correct established misogynist language that has been present in translations of Homer’s poetry for centuries. “I try avoiding importing contemporary types of sexism into this ancient poem, instead shining a clear light on the particular forms of sexism and patriarchy that do exists in the text,” Wilson writes.

In her note and in public appearances, Wilson has particularly mentioned her handling of the scene where Telemachus, Odysseus’s son, executes women accused of sleeping with Penelope’s suitors. Previous translations have described them as maids or servants but Wilson chose to translate the term as “slave” in order to reiterate the lack of agency and freedom the women had.

In a way, reputation is doing the same work. Like Miller and Wilson, Swift is reevaluating an established understanding of an ancient myth, in this case Medusa, and presenting it from an entirely new perspective.

reputation shows that Miller and Wilson’s efforts to cast a critical eye upon the ingrained misogyny we’ve taken for granted in ancient texts are able to expand outside the realm of classical studies. We can apply this same framework to contemporary pop cultural narratives with the same result.

Though the parallels between the Medusa myth and reputation are most likely coincidental, they should prompt us all to ask, “Why?” Why is it so damaging to be labeled a snake woman? Why is that a symbol that must be reclaimed? Why have we allowed this to go on for so long?

Works Cited

Homer. The Odyssey. Edited by Emily R. Wilson, W.W. Norton Et Company, Inc., 2018.

Ovid. Metamorphoses. Edited by Charles Martin, W.W. Norton & Co., 2005.

Swift, Taylor. Reputation, Taylor Swift. 2017. 

[orpheusterminals]

Tobacco and other Consumable Ash Residue, of Cigarettes, Cigars and Pipes for Forensic Criminology by Sherlock Holmes

..I am thinking of writing this book you are reading, I am going to call it:

Tobacco and other Consumable Ash Residue, of Cigarettes, Cigars and Pipes for Forensic Criminology by Sherlock Holmes

The Secrets of the Empire of the Nine, Revealed !

or

( the Further Adventures of Frank Fuckface edited by Iason Ragnar Bellerophon.) 

Part Two: Straight outta The White Feathered Octopus

2017© Tetragrammatron Press

(cue Cavemanrobot holding up the DODECATRON logo, by Biscuit Boy, Britton Walters)

Beautiful Greenberg, Monumenta, New Korpoils, The Untitled Snakes of Assyria, Helios Three, Sol, Milky Way, The Red Universe, Oversoul Seven.

As of right NOW! Here it is…

THAR SHE BLOWS, Tis a piny she’ a whore!

When we last left our hero, Jace the Ace, the original soulseeker, he was sitting on a love seat in a small Ape-artment in Beautiful Greenberg, with his 71 year old one legged father, they had both just spilt a bottle of Gato One Eye Wine, and 40oz. Of magic mushrooms….

A event it was Bellerophon was to term: The White Feathered Octopus.

This is the peak of the movie talking about Danny Kaye in Wonderman!

It explains everything!

Post War World Two, healing would the mind and the heart

The thinker and the clown!

What is this trick photography, YES IT IS!

Two-way ticket, the 4-d man, the clown is the trickerts-

No telling what I can do when I learn the ropes,

Oh what a set up when I wasted all that time living

The secrets of life were solid for a dime (nothing a symbolic boon at best) they offer all the various – lustful, muses each a color of the rainbow, the young lover pulls upon them all, the solution, the soul union, to finding love either getting the man you want to notice you or to find new lover or both is to be polyamorius to play the field, not just with love, Song of Solomon, to play the field of life to explore all the different kinds of being you can be, mother, lover, whore, child, wife, ex-wife, monster, body, object, image. With young man falling before you. That will instill lust in your true love to struggle to then win you, or die trying

The Perpetual Grinning Giantess

Okay, get up, push your hands down on the rug, flip over, on the knees, Arch the back, strech out back, Arch again, PAIN!, tight exhausted doing nothing calf muscle, PAIN!, up on your feet, Broken Wagon wheel feeling, pivot, push forward, thought the apartment, Dad there in his chair so bored, now so delighted that I am coming thought the kitchen over to him. It is maybe 10, I don’t know 10:20? Dad could not wait for me to make coffee, he have has been able to figure out how to use the espresso maker, so instead I see what is left of his Cowboy Coffee.

Recipe for Cowboy Coffee

Two tablespoons of coffee grounds

Pour directly into a small cooking pot

Drop in One Cup of Water

Do not mix!

Heating until boil and continue to boil until contents have boiled over leaving burnt grounds chemically bonded forever in the porcelain stove top

Hysterically pour directly into whatever vessel you can find regardless of cleanliness, the mug you left overnight with 4 or 5 tea bags from last night will work nicely, or the Pyrex measuring cup, or a soup bowl, our take a slightly smaller cooking pot and pour it in there, just do it NOW!

Drop in an ice cube, drop the tray still filled with more ice onto the floor and kick it under the stove.

Add one to fifteen packs of the cheapest imitation sugar to taste

Drink one scalding sip, then let sit till ice cold, then dump into sink.

Piss in the mug, and hide it behind the chair

Forget about it, then a few days from now kick the mug over with enough force to cause it to be smashed to more manageable bits

And That’s Cowboy Coffee, enjoy.

Without saying a word, I go straight into the shower, PAIN! Find the Monkey Wretch we use to turn the hot water on with, the knob fell off a few weeks ago, I would ask the landlord to fix it, but since we are behind in the rent it makes it awkward. PAIN!

Get the water really HOT, turn off the lights, in the in shower, now down onto my knees, pressing my feet hard against the surface of the tub near the drain. PAIN!

Arching my back, arms under my frame for support, pushing and pulling my next, compressing my spine, sucking in my gut, as tight and I can, release and again and again. IN the Dark, IN the Steam, eye shut tight, making a pillow with my hands, how else would anyone make any pillow of any kind without their hands? The inner surface of my eyelids, opens up to a long subterranean florescent hallway, I am following a pleasing figure slightly in front of me, I am enjoying my point of view.

The Perpetual Grinning Giantess, who is a fusion of past girlfriends, a buxom, dark haired beauty with amalgamated features, in a thick tangerine turtle neck, and short pelted wool skirt, with knee high matching Clementine stockings, finds me in a dark corridor and taking my hand leads me down into a takes me to the underground bunker, that I always knew would be at my disposable if I need it. Actually it is a palace, long halls, tapestries, modernist sculptures and fountains.

The Giantess leads me to where the strange weapons, ornate armor, and incomprehensible gizmos, taken from other worlds, are stored. The orange paint job on the concrete brick walls of the armory matches her heaving sweater. And we joke about it. She speaks in a rhythmic sing-song manner with left field code words dovetailing the ends, and cresting the middle of her sentences. It was as if she was trying to teach me a code, or perhaps an alternative language that happened to use the same words as English but with different meanings, or both those things.

Suddenly I notice that there is a book in the back of the armory, behind glass. The giantess explains to me that it was the one last book in this world. All the others were destroyed. It is a thick old fashion book kept enshrined upon a pillow. Making a corny Ray Bradbury joke, I asked if it was Tales of Mystery and Imagination by Edgar Allen Poe.

The Giantess, looked at me with a blank stare and said it was, Tobacco and other Consumable Ash Residue, of Cigarettes, Cigars and Pipes for Forensic Criminology by Sherlock Holmes. As if I was foolish to think it could be any other book.

With a careful single motion she touched a tiny button on the side of the book’s pedestal, and glass, or what I thought was glass, instantly turned to cool steam flying away from the book. The whole bunker filled with a strong whiff of thick dust, that smell that only an old book can provide.

But, what a book! “May I?”

“Jugular! If justice is done, please just be careful, here use these gloves to turn the pages..”

I suppose the closest thing I could compare to the book would be the Voynich manuscript, Which I had been allowed to see when I was a grad student. This book seemed even more cryptic, page after page of elaborate diagrams of smoke, smokers, pipes, hookahs, and the various plants they are harvested from, but text was equally filled with wirework half-see through people, animals, and monsters. All of it appeared to be cross-connected with astronomical bodies; suns, moons, and stars of astronomy and astrology. One series of 78 diagrams depicts unconventional drawings for the zodiacal constellations from around the world ( a Winged Minotaur carrying a giant stone covered in dozen of human eye ball for Taurus, an eight legged centaur with a mane of fire and ice, brandishing a crossbow for Sagittarius, The Vedic Head of the Demon depicted as a man with a puppet on a stick riding a toad, a male and female pair of mere-people in coitis within a golden egg for Pisces, you get the idea).

There where different bevels running down the pages of the text block, so that fingers could easily find categories. In a section that appeared to cover geography I have a dozens different Maps of the earth, the largest of which folded-out in a special section of the book in one dived poster page, gingerly opening my six foot six inches arm span up to reveal a shockingly detailed chart of a planet called Helios Three, in the lower middle right of the map, the entire known land masses of our earth were represented as a tiny chain of islands the size of Hawaii all sharing the label Mundania, surrounded by quaint old timey sea-serpents, mostly hybrids of screaming women with hydra similar to classic allegorical images of Sin personified, in an area called the Internos Ocean, on a awesomely gargantuan orb filled to accommodate vast super-continents with labels that I could roughly translate as Atlemuriatis, Prospero’s Lillblefuscuiput, Ozqbar, and Xanthadu.

I laughed “This is an amazing document, a work of art onto itself, whoever made it really put their all into it, but Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, he is not a real person, it is a common misunderstanding that inspired this Obsessive Prankster.”

The Giantess, saw and raised my laugh, with a slightly perturbed “Blacktail! You have made a blunder!, Doyle, that asshole? He was a puppet, an actor! Adfluxion, the account is full of errors! WE hired him to distract the general populous! I don’t know what Sherlock saw in that empty headed chowderhead, that hapless little man believed in ghosts! Modishly, a mismanaged affair.

I asked her what she meant by that, was there something in the text besides the new revealed to be real Holmes’ study of tobacco ash, she said yes. The she made a joke herself, with a slightly different smile, a sexy twist in the curve of her lips,

she said. “Rollable, your request is unreasonable, I could tell you, but then I would have to kill you.”

“Okay, ha!” hoping over to a sturdy looking cot with a rainbow of earth tone striped wool blanket atop it and now under by backside. “ So Holmes, was an actual person, like some sort of Wold Newtonian idea.”

“World Newtonian, Cellar, the cheaper the better?” as she subtly shifted her weight to from on elaborately combat booted basketball size cafe muscle to the other, to align herself askew with a tilt of her solid fetching jawline.

Reaching over and strapping, what I thought were binoculars over my eyes, “No Wold, as in a meteorite which fell in Wold Newton, Yorkshire, England, on December 13, 1795” after a bit of fiddling the switches I found on their side, binoculars warmly activate with a peachy hum. “Which gave rise to an obscured piece of pulp fiction fandom, that plays around with ideas about fictional characters being secretly retold stories of real adventurers.”

A rush of colors and hydrographic information filled my eyes, I was seeing the world based upon the about of water that exist within objects. Glancing over to the book was blank save for tiny dancing golden stars, The Giantess however, towering over me a now a swirling sea of turquoise, teal, and white poured at lightspeed into her skin, with the thickness and shape of a clear emerald old timey cola bottle now slightly larger than human scale, with faint flakes of tulip and melon pulsating at constellations filled with a zoo of tiny totem creatures, where her organs must be, as flares shoot off from the end points of her circulation. What was once and will soon again be her hand reaches over to my face, thousands of carnation and cream carrousels being patrolled by squadrons of invisible sea lions, swim up through her fingertips. She looked like one of the drawings in the manuscript, only brought into shock clarity. I thought to tell her, but I figured she must already know that.

“He called it a supernova of genetic splendor”.

Pulling the hydroculars off my face, with a genteel grimace, her ample right breast brushing against my raised up left knee for an ecstatic second, “Who is He? And where did you hear about this?”

“Oh sorry, I did that classic male thing, and just spoke as if you could read my mind! He is Philip Jose Farmer, that writer I told you about before, he put forth the idea that the meteorite was radioactive and caused beneficial genetic mutations in those exposed to it. That is the fun in Farmer, he plays fast and loose with the facts working them into his fiction. It really could have been anything, ties in with The Golden Fleece, Holy Grail, Super Solider Serum, a oddball device so that heroes can be spawned from mortal men, gives the reader, the slimmest of chances that there might be a….”

“Mustard Seed of Truth?” she completed the words for me, then added “Enringed, the news causes great excitement!”

As my eye re-adjusts to the cold light of the room, I ask myself if I really needed to start talking about pulp fiction fandom, and related nonsense, along with rattling off way too much information to a kind girl that is just being sweet and listening, because your starting to date one another.

The Professor, The Know it All, those are strong impulses in me, I think it is a direct result of feeling stupid in school, being labeled “learning disabled”, knowing that you are smart, but being treated like you have shit for brains, brings out the need to prove it, prove hard and fast. When you’re a larger man than average, it does not help either, people will just assume that if you are big, and my big I mean fat and tall, that you are also mentally retarded.

Such is life, right, we all have our crosses to bear, even a Bear.

But I am who I am and that stuff is important to me, the sabertooth is out of the bag.

Pushing a series of thin sliver bracelet up her wrist, “Well, actually Sherlock was just his code name, No Holmes was real! Expect was really your ancestor, Dr. Joseph Bell, who hand picked Doyle when, he had worked for Bell as a clerk at the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary.”

“The E.R.I.?” making a joke, as if I was already familiar with so random war hospital, “Whoa, there sunshine, what are you talking about? huunnnnunun!” I said with my nervous laugh dancing up behind my words. “Why, would he do that? For what purpose?” pushing pass her, walking about over to the book again.

“In order that to better hide the knowledge, of course!. If it were not for him and the wisdom he encoded in this book all would be lost! If this book fell into the hands of most people they would think it was perhaps a prop from a theatrical production, or the ravings of a nutjob at best. Probably the poor soul would just burn it for kindling.”

The great burden of it all on her face, a afternoon shadow falling indoors onto hard wood floors.

“ That is why you are here, Jason, it is all here in the book, ever wonder why you would even know about some hairbrained pastime like that Fig Newton, or whatever you called that Grail stone! To get you ready for this day, this moment everyday there are new entries on the blank pages, new diagrams, new recipes! He did something to the ink, so that it would appear bit by bit, as if it is a clock, the book is alive and has a time delay for information. So far I have figured out that much, and that when he is talking about smoke is does not mean smoke, he means the residue of activity all human activity, and maybe other forms of higher and lower life. It is too much to handle, We need you to work with me on recording it all down, interrupting it, figure out how to use it. .”

The adventure suit was scarlet, and goldenrod, with cyan tiger stripe in artful placment…..

[writingandsleeping]

Everyone always assumed aliens would be far superior to humans, either scientifically or militaristically.  Christine never understood that. Why couldn’t aliens be equal? Maybe even lesser? Did everyone want to feel inferior and uneducated?  They were aliens after all, not gods. Honestly, she didn’t mind if aliens were superior – didn’t care. All she asked was for some diversity of thought.

Maybe, if there had been some open-mindedness, they wouldn’t have fallen into this mess.  Maybe she wouldn’t be laying on a table with a tube pumping a baby blue liquid into one arm and another pumping a translucent white liquid out the other.  Maybe she wouldn’t be desperately trying to examine the room so she could forget that the same thing was happening to everyone else on the International Space Station, too.  Just the thought of her fellow astronauts in the same position she was upset her enough; she didn’t need to see the campers, the young kids entrusted to her, in the same horrible position, too – food for aliens.

(~5000 words, part of my WIP)

They had hijacked the ISS two days before the campers’ mission was scheduled to end.  Their ship was incompatible with the Station’s landing dock, so they locked onto it with some kind of giant claw.  Michael, a Canadian astronaut the campers called Moose because of his height and accent, had been explaining how Whipple shields protected the Station from floating debris.  Dimitri, meanwhile, had glided to the controls to make sure those shields were working. All four professional astronauts knew the force rocking the ISS was far too harsh to be a standard asteroid.  In the interest of keeping the teenagers calm though, they followed basic routine without so much as a worried glance at each other. No matter how much training they received, scared kids were still scared kids.

Christine was the first to notice the shadow on the side of the Station that should have been illuminated by the sun.  She nudged Kei and directed his attention to the enormous object pulling up next to the window. His mouth dropped open, and he rubbed his eyes.  Without tearing his gaze away, he fumbled his hand along the table, groping for some kind of instrument. Christine couldn’t even begin to guess which instruments to use.

“Is that…”  She didn’t know how to continue.

“I think we’re being boarded,” Dimitri said softly behind her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kei hissed back.  “It’s just an–”

A rhythmic banging on the wall next to the door stopped him.  Dimitri hesitantly pulled himself toward the noise as Michael ushered the campers into their sleeping cabin.  It wasn’t any more protected than the rest of the Station, but at least they would be out of the way there. As Michael activated the air-tight door-lock to protect the campers at least a little, a tap on the door echoed throughout the main chamber of the Station.  Then the hiss of escaping air pierced the silence, and Dimitri backed away as fast he could flail. Alarms blared, and Christine threw helmets to Dimitri and Kei. Michael got to his before she could toss him one, too. As she was securing her oxygen, Christine looked into the sleeping cabin to make sure the campers had fastened their emergency gear as well.  Not surprisingly, they had finished faster than the professionals. One or two kids were panicking, but the others were helping them calm down, and Christine felt a flush of pride for her crop. She couldn’t bask in the feeling for long, though, before the door burst open, and she had to prepare herself to examine the damage to the Station.

Except, there was no damage.  There were aliens. Tall, orange aliens.

Humanoid in stature, they wore what Christine could only describe as white spandex overalls, like work-out clothes found in local department stores.  The legs disappeared into thick hiking boots, and the multitude of excess material at the collars folded over between their shoulders, which rose like small mountains after leveling off from their squat, thick necks.  Their faces were mostly dominated by three huge owl-like, black eyes, with one centered just above the other two, and long, silvery beards streaked with black, though the tops of their heads were bald. In the very center of the faces, beneath the eyes, were slits that Christine assumed were snake-like noses.  The tall, bony shoulders only began one of their two sets of arms. The first pair were long and thin with elbows that were almost as bony as their shoulders. All three of the aliens were holding these arms behind their backs. The other pair grew out of their midsections so that the obviously muscular arms wrapped directly around their waists.  The aliens’ legs were also stocky and long, with two knee-joints each, resembling the knuckles of human fingers. A long lion-like tail was draped over the shoulder of the alien in the front of the group, though Christine couldn’t see a tail on either of the two behind it.

“Amazing,” Michael whispered.  Christine wouldn’t have heard him over the Station’s alarms without the microphone in her helmet.  “They exist. I… Where?”

“I agree,” Kei said, as serious as a funeral.

“Um,” Christine paused to track down all of her thoughts, “if they ripped our door off, why haven’t we been sucked into the vacuum of space?”  She couldn’t actually see if the door was really ripped off. The aliens were too tall and broad-shouldered to see past. However badly the ISS was damaged, Christine couldn’t see it.  Regardless of how damaged the door was, the important thing was that it was damaged at all, and they should be dead because of it.

“You always think critically before beautifully, Chris?” Michael asked.

“Not dying is a beautiful thing, Moose,” she responded.

“I agree with Christine,” Dimitri said from the middle of the Station.  “Given their method of entry, we should be floating corpses.” He turned off the alarms with the control panel nearest him, and Christine blinked a few times in relief.

“We took great precautions to ensure your safety.  It is not our intention to harm you.” The voice that shattered the welcome silence was clearly robotic.  It shared qualities with a seriously gruff Siri who had a bad sinus congestion.

“Who said that?” Dimitri demanded, his attention jolting away from the controls before he could adjust the emergency lighting.

“None of them moved,” Kei stated.

“Maybe we just can’t see their mouths behind the beards?” Michael suggested.

“Both Earthlings are correct,” the voice said.  “My translator is communicating for me.”

Dimitri flinched and floated a few feet backward as the forwardmost alien unwrapped one large arm from its midsection to brandish a metal wrist strap with holograms flashing and whirling above its face.  Christine noticed that spandex suit extended uninterrupted over the hand like a glove. Then her jaw dropped slighting when she realized the alien’s hand had six fingers, two of which resembled thumbs.

“Your technology can translate a new language as we speak?” Michael asked in clear awe.  He shared none of Dimitri’s nervousness, looking as if he wanted to shift even closer to the aliens.

“No,” it responded as it wrapped its arm back around its waist.  The tone of the technological voice was strictly dry. “We have been in your orbit for quite some time.  We waited to make contact until our translators had fully decoded your languages.”

“Why does one tiny planet need so many languages?” a different robotic voice asked.  It was deeper than the first but had more of a technological, tinny shriek.

Before the question was completed, another alien hissed, and the forwardmost alien thrust the bushy tip of its tail through the beard of the alien to its left, though the rest of its body remained rigid.  The interaction fascinated Christine, and she decided it was safe to assume that the alien in front was the leader. She also thought the second alien sounded younger, which she quickly admonished herself for since it was ridiculous to compare the ages of robotic voice.

“I apologize for the unwarranted comments,” the first robotic voice said.  “We do not mean to criticize. It is simply surprising to some of our younger stock.”  Christine thought the eyes of the alien to the right dilated. She hadn’t noticed initially that there was a faded purple pupil within the black, which apparently was just an enormous iris rather than the whole eye like she initially thought.

“Does your entire planet speak the same language?” Michael asked.

“It,” the alien hesitated, “does.”  The alien to the right shifted, and the air in front of its face shimmered slightly, but Christine figured that the light was playing tricks on her eyes, especially with the low, red emergency lights still flashing.

Dimitri, Kei, and Christine exchanged glances.  Dimitri clearly shared Christine’s unease at the hesitation.  Kei mostly looked excited, like a ten-year-old who was offered a trip to the North Pole in Santa’s sleigh – eager but prepared for disappointment.  Michael, however, wouldn’t take his eyes off the aliens. Maybe it was because she grew up in a big city where “stranger danger” was practically a religion, but Christine was concerned about his excessive excitement.  As a scientist, she was elated that they were in the presence of alien life, too, but the way the aliens boarded the Station like pirates gave her the worst feeling of foreboding. Additionally, aside from the leader’s small movements of its arm and tail, none of the aliens moved at all.  Their rigid stance and robotic voices gave the situation an extra eeriness that Christine really didn’t think it needed.

“So, why are we still standing in perfect gravity?” Christine finally asked, breaking the momentary silence.  She couldn’t hold back a gasp when Michael glanced back to roll his eyes at her.

“Before we cut into your starbase we constructed an attachable ante-chamber that would preserve your preferred conditions,” the seeming leader answered.

“Our conditions,” Dimitri noted.  “Do you not need oxygen and steady gravity as well?”

“We are not oxygen-dependent as you are.  We require a carbon-nitrogen mixture,” it explained.  “Gravity does not always concern us. We utilize anti-gravity work boots at all times.  They instinctively adjust to relative gravity so that we always feel steady and secure, as we do in our preferred gravity state.”

Dimitri shared an astonished look with Kei.  The head engineer and physicist, they were marveling in such technology.  If Dimitri could get past his trepidation, Christine was sure he would be at the alien’s feet, taking in as many features and specifications of the boots as he could.

“Then how are you breathing in here if you matched our conditions rather than your own?” Michael asked.  He sounded absolutely breathless, and Christine’s peripheral glance at him confirmed that his eyes were blown wide with exhilaration and his mouth was hanging open.  His excessive enthusiasm made sense since he specialized in astro-biology and -botany, but she couldn’t help wondering how dignified they looked as a group and whether it was well-reflective of Earth as a planet.  Michael’s childlike wonder, Kei’s guarded excitement, and her and Dimitri’s skepticism made an odd combination at the very least.

“Like you, we are wearing safety helmets,” the aliens’ leader said.  The one to its left must have muttered into the tail still covering its mouth because the hair around its face and the bushy tail fluttered.

The lead alien raised one of its long, skinny arms and prodded the air in front of its eyes.  Christine didn’t know if she was more entranced by the air shimmering in response, evidence of a force-field helmet, or the alien’s delicate hand that only had three smooth fingers which looked like suction cups, two inches long and barely a quarter-inch in diameter.

“That is the absolute coolest thing I have ever seen!” a voice behind all of them shouted.

“Hella!” another answered.

“Aliens are standing in front of you, but you think their invisible helmets are the coolest part?” Daisy scoffed.  “Grow up.”

“Patrick’s right though!” Jake said.  “We all know there had to be aliens somewhere, but that technology is bomb.”

“Yeah, somewhere,” Tim argued, “not on the damn ISS!  This is incredible!”

“Besides, technology can always be invented and improved upon,” Lizzie agreed.  “You don’t meet aliens every day.”

“What are you doing here?  Get back in the cabin!” Dimitri ordered.  If the kids were afraid of his red-faced Russian rage, they didn’t show it.  Only two of the ten campers so much as flinched, and none of them made the slightest move to safety.

“You can’t hog aliens,” Patrick stated, crossing his arms over his thin chest.  “We get to be a part of this – this discovery as much as you.” Christine wanted to cry to him that it’s not a discovery when you’re the one commandeered.

“We deserve it after training for almost five years straight,” Daisy added.

Those two had established themselves as the leaders of their year long ago, and their arrogance drove every counselor and professional astronaut crazy.  It was true the kids trained for four and a half rigorous years before the top ten percent was taken on a real trip to space, but that did not give them the right to undermine authority like this.  Christine knew she should have barred Patrick from the trip when she caught him strapping into the pilot chair instead of the main cabin seats with the rest of his classmates. The lift-off countdown had already begun though; forcing him to disembark would have sent the camp and NASA both into hysterics and disarray.  Instead she made him watch as she lowered his official ranking and reported a black mark on his record. Until now, that had been enough to keep him in line.

“Let them stay,” Michael agreed without turning around.  He hadn’t taken his eyes off the aliens for even a second.  “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. As long as they stay quiet in the very back of the Station, there’s no reason they shouldn’t be part of this.”

Kei made sounds of disbelief but didn’t actually protest, and Dimitri simply growled.  Christine grumbled to herself about stereotypical Canadian niceness but didn’t say anything argumentative either.  Now was certainly not the time for in-fighting. She fixed one more glare on Patrick before returning her attention to the aliens.

All three now had wide eyes with huge purple pupils.  The alien to the left had dropped into a crouch, both knees bent and leaning forward.  The alien to the right was now standing with both of its stocky arms wide, looking ready to bear-hug or restrain someone.  The lead alien’s tail was thrashing behind its head, and it’s forcefield was shimmering like water affected by vibration. It seemed to be holding the other two in place behind it.  Suddenly, Christine’s foreboding was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

After that, it was a terrifying blur.

Despite their leader attempting to – or seeming to – hold them back, the two flanking it from behind dove forward and grabbed Michael and Kei.  Dimitri raised a wrench or something, but the leader’s tail flicked it from his hands as easily as if it was a slicked bar of soap. Christine backed up to guard the children, but before she could even imagine how to defend herself or the campers, the two aggressive aliens knocked her to the ground.  Dimitri and Kei were nowhere to be seen anymore, and she could only watch through heavy eyes as they pulled the campers away from her, each taking two in their stocky arms and one in their sleek arms. She tried to make a desperate attempt to get up and save them, but her elbow and knee throbbed, and she couldn’t move.

The next time she opened her eyes, she found herself strapped to a table with a gag shoved unpleasantly deep into her throat.  Breathing through her nose tickled the back of her incredibly dry throat, and swallowing irritated the gag, making her feel like she was drowning.  Christine was restrained too tightly to even shift around on the table much, and any movements she attempted irritated her skin. She was no longer wearing her spacesuit, so the straps were directly against her skin, causing a sensation like rubber-burn.  She could only see directly in front of her and what rolling her eyes could fill in for her periphery. Christine couldn’t remember being strapped down or even moving from the floor of the ISS. She was here though, in a chair that felt stiff but plushy like a leather-cushioned doctor’s examination chair.  What her hands felt of the material along the sides was fuzzy like suede and too solid to squeeze. The scientist in her was desperately curious about what it was made from. Was it some kind of manufactured animal hide like leather on Earth or a material humans had never heard of before?

Distracting herself from the chair, she examined the wall in front of her.  It was the only thing she could see clearly since she didn’t have to strain her eyes to look at it.  There was a porthole that she judged to be eight feet off the ground, which seemed the right height for the aliens.  Christine’s neck had begun to hurt from looking up at them on the ISS. The rest of the wall was smooth and shiny, a large charcoal expanse with no seeming disfigurations or blemishes.  No nail holes or screwheads or seams, no evidence of construction. Clearly, these aliens knew how to metal-work if their spaceship – Christine assumed – was any evidence or the way the aliens had so quickly and effortlessly sliced and spliced the ISS.  What Christine could see of the ceiling was just as well-made. There wasn’t even a seam between the wall and the ceiling. It was as if the entire section of the room was one perfectly smooth piece of material.

The strain of rolling her eyes to their limits was starting to blur her vision, so she snapped her lids shut before the fuzziness gave her a migraine.  With her eyes resting, Christine strained her other senses instead. There was a thrumming in the air that also translated into a small vibration in the chair.  Christine guessed it was the ship’s engine and was more intrigued by the mechanical whining that pierced the air every seven – she counted several times – seconds exactly.  Another rhythm of the engine? Were the aliens working on something? Was it another example of their metal-working? Christine could only hope she would live to find out.

To be fair, Christine would settle with just living, especially since her nose was suddenly registering an increasingly acrid stench.  Something near her was burning, something uncomfortably close. Her eyes snapped back open, and she fought to twist her head and find the source.  One of the aliens had soundlessly entered the room through the wall in front of her. The porthole was a window on the door that was slowly sliding shut.

But there were no seams!  Not even a hinge!

The miraculous wall rivaled the alien for Christine’s attention, but she focused on the alien when she realized it was smoking.  The burning stench was coming from the fish tank contraption around its head. This time, the helmet was perfectly visible and full of fog so thick Christine could barely see the alien’s face.  There was a scuba-style mouthpiece that breathed in a liquid and filtered out the fog. With a jolt, Christine realized the liquid was the same color and consistency as what was coming out of her arm.

Dragging her eyes away from the alien’s mouthpiece, Christine began squirming relentlessly in her bonds as the alien approached her.  It unfolded its thin arms with the three-fingered hands and held them open, extended straight downward. Christine stopped wriggling but remained rigid, wondering if this was some form of proving itself unarmed, like how humans held their hands up.  If it was, she would have preferred to see that its enormous arms were accounted for, not the thin, delicate ones. After her sudden movements, Christine was feeling sharp pain in her knee, and she realized that it was wrapped tightly in slimy but warm bandages.  Had the aliens attended her injuries from being thrown across the ISS? Christine had no idea what to think anymore -- as if she ever did.

“I do not mean to harm you,” it said.  A tail lazily draped itself over the alien’s shoulder, and Christine assumed it was the leader from the ISS invasion party.  With the gag still firmly lodged, she could only glare and growl.

Slowly, the alien reached forward and delicately removed the gag with one suction-cup hand.  Christine angled her face as much as she could and spit in the alien’s direction. To her satisfaction, her disgusting glob landed at its feet.  “That’s what you said last time,” she finally retorted.

The alien’s eyes dilated to the widest state Christine had seen them.  Unlike the pupils she first noticed on the other alien, this alien had much brighter purple in its eyes.  They were a bright, violet color rather than the greyish periwinkle Christine had first examined. Why hadn’t she noticed on the ISS when all three were dilated?  She was probably too terrified, which she supposed was a decent excuse. Now Christine couldn’t help wondering if the third alien had violet or periwinkle eyes. Or were its eyes a third color?  Could it be individualized like humans’ eyes?

“I apologize for the actions of my workers.”  The translator was as drawl and emotionless as before, interrupting Christine’s stream of unspoken questions.  “I told them we would be strictly peaceful, but when we realized how many life-giving sources were on your ship, they could not contain themselves.”

After a moment, Christine repeated, “Life-giving sources?”  There was a lot to explain about the alien’s explanation, but she decided to start there.

The alien, however, did not reply.  Instead, it placed the gag on a table beside the chair and began to unhook the tubes in Christine’s arms.  The pinpricks gushed a few drops of blood as the needles were extracted, and the alien placed fuzzy adhesives on them.  With the utmost care, it capped each tube, turned off the machine Christine didn’t even notice behind her, and fetched containers from beneath Christine’s cushions.  A cross between a mason jar and a petri dish, it took two of the squat containers to save all of the white liquid Christine had unwillingly surrendered.

“As I explained on your starbase, we require a combination of carbon and nitrogen to survive,” the alien said when it was done.  It held a container in each stocky hand as it surveyed Christine again. “We have yet to find another world that can support us. Until then, we will require your donations.”

“Donations?” Christine exclaimed.  “This isn’t donating. This is stealing!”  The alien stared back through the haze of its helmet silently with wide purple pupils.  Christine took a deep breath and repeated her initial question. “What life-giving sources am I providing you?”

“There is a chemical in your body that is largely composed of carbon and nitrogen.  It is not an exact match to our atmosphere, but it is as close as we will find anywhere.  Our tests have shown that it is not a necessary component to your sustenance. Since you do not need it, but we do, we thought the donations only fair.”

“Why do you need to take it at all?” Christine argued.  “Why don’t you just go home or manufacture more? Clearly you have advanced technology and intelligence.”

The alien’s tail twitched on its shoulder, and its pupils retracted to almost nothing.  It walked to an area of the room Christine couldn’t see, and her muscles tensed voluntarily.  There was a faint scraping sound, like a hatch opening, and then the alien was in her sights again but without the jars of Christine’s so-called life-giving donations.  After a moment’s hesitation, the alien approached Christine again and began to loosen her bindings, beginning with Christine’s head and moving down to her elbows, hands, thighs, and ankles.  Christine remained still despite her freedom, unsure why she was being set free.

“We do not have such,” it said.  Then it began to walk away.

“Wait!” Christine called after it.  “What do you mean?”

The alien paused halfway between her and the wall with the porthole.  It turned around again, tail thrashing, and studied Christine more intensely than before.  “We do not have the technology to manufacture it. We no longer have a home. Some of us do not have intelligence.” The words flew from the translator so fast, the anger was clear to Christine without the usual emotional inflections.  “Why have you not yet moved? I set you free to…” It trailed off.

Christine narrowed her eyes and studied the alien just as intensely.  “Did you want me to attack you? There’s no point in that, is there?”

“I suppose not,” the alien admitted.  It’s tail returned to its shoulder but continued to twitch.

Christine finally sat up, moving as slowly as possible so not to startle the alien or hurt herself.  She still wasn’t sure what they had extracted from her body, but she didn’t feel pained or woozy. Even sitting in the straighter position with no support for her back, she wasn’t dizzy or lightheaded.  Her vision wasn’t blurred. Her mouth wasn’t dry. Her ears weren’t ringing. Maybe the aliens really weren’t trying to harm her. The appendix was an example of extra components in the human body, and life was possible with just one kidney.  Christine didn’t know of any liquid components humans didn’t need, but perhaps the aliens really had found one. Her specialty was mechanical parts, not human parts. Moose would have known if the alien was telling the truth, but she never would.

Moose!  How could she have forgotten about the rest of the crew?  Her campers? How had she not asked about them yet? They were probably in the same position she had been, scared out of their young minds.  Christine needed to ask about them, but she was more concerned with something the alien had said.

“What did you mean you no longer have a home?” she asked.

The alien’s tail stopped twitching and dropped low over the alien’s chest.  Its pupils retracted yet again, and it carefully clasped its hand behind its back.  Christine enjoyed comparing its actions to humans as they tried to compose themselves or gather their thoughts.

Finally, the alien began to say, “This is a –”

“This is a war ship,” a new voice boomed in the background.

An alien Christine hadn’t seen before was standing in front of the porthole now.  Although shorter than the alien she was painstakingly becoming acquainted with, it was larger in almost every other way.  Its shoulders and waist were broader, its high shoulders pointier, its lower arms stockier. Its eyes were the dull, greyish periwinkle shade.  Its voice was deeper and more commanding than Christine had ever heard before from any human or other creature. Instinctively, Christine leaned back in the chair again, moving as far from the new alien as she could.  Its stature and expression made it far more intimidating than the one she was already talking to, even than the two who had boarded the ISS.

“Why have you stopped draining it?” the new alien demanded.

The original aliens hissed.  “Because we have drained it as much as I dare.  We are not to harm these creatures, Shorlok.” Its voice was far more forceful that Christine had heard so far.  “As I decreed –”

“The people no longer care what you decreed, Merza” the new alien interrupted.  “They have been made to see reason. We will continue to drain the Earthlings for as much as possible.”

“Who do you think you are to give orders to me?”

“I am your replacement,” it stated.  Then it turned to fully face Christine for the first time.  “This is a war ship,” it repeated. “If you and your stock do not comply with our orders, we will destroy your planet.  Our ship is equipped with blasters that have three times the force needed to obliterate your ridiculous, puny world.”

The original alien, who was apparently just deposed, tried to speak again – its eyes almost pure purple, barely a sliver of black ringing the outside – but before a syllable could escape its mouth, the new alien sent a swift, fisted stocky lower arm into its stomach.  The hit sent the alien flying into the far wall where it had earlier deposited the jars of white, life-giving donations. Christine heard herself shriek, but her eyes glazed over, and she suddenly felt like she was no longer in the room. Rather, she was standing behind a glass, viewing but not engaging.  She allowed the aggressive alien to shove her backward onto the chair again and didn’t fight when he lifted her legs back onto the stiff cushion. Had she tried to rush to the other alien? She didn’t even realize she had moved, aside from flinching. With rough, utterly uncaring force, the new alien jarred her face forward so she was stuck staring at the porthole once again, strapped too tightly in place.  The gag was shoved further past her tonsils than the first time, and the tubes were re-inserted.

Once again, Christine found herself straining her eyes to take in the side of the room, but this time, she was concerned about the well-being of an alien, rather than fearing the arrival of one.  Vaguely, she knew there was something else she should be worrying about, but as the white, goopy liquid began streaming from her arm again, she found it harder and harder to focus on anything except that new alien walking through the ruins of her hometown and the desperate, despairing loneliness of being millions of miles away in an impossible position to help.

She finally closed her eyes, feeling the steady tears roll down her cheeks.