#I'm preaching their gospel

[theghostwrites]

Show rec for my fellow Reylo/ Darklina/ Saurondriels 🖤

it's called Gülcemal and it's a Turkish series about a dark brooding man with no social abilities who adores his baby sister. He comes back to his childhood town to get revenge on their mother, who abandoned them as children. There, he meets a woman, who his mother has taken under her protection, and immediately becomes obsessed with her after she shoots him an arrow and stabs him with a pair of scissors. The result? unhinged drama and god-tier dark romance 😭. I'm telling you, this show has it all.

[heatherfield]

I mean you got me to watch and you KNOW HOW HARD IT IS FOR ME TO START THINGS

But yes please watch headless my boy deserves all the love

I KNOW AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!

And to anyone reading this, PLEASE SAVE A BARD FROM BEING LOCKED OUT IN THE COLD AND WATCH "HEADLESS: A SLEEPY HOLLOW STORY".

Don't be like Baltus.

[redheadedfailgirl]

No actually. Fuck this. This fucking blows. Trans people don't need Jesus or God's mercy or whatever other fucking fantasy y'all have decided you need to be complete.

The reason trans people don't join christian churches is because they are a 'community' that fundamentally excludes difference. No matter how many new interpretations of the Bible you make, you cannot erase the history of violence, colonialism, and exclusion done in the name of this God. Trans people are not participating now, and likely will not ever, for good reason.

There is no 'true message of Jesus,' there is only this history, this violence created by Christians, with the very intention of creating a world where trans people cannot live. When people try to find the 'true message,' or show the 'correct' interpretation of the Bible, they are trying to erase this history. They are asking you to be complacent, even while Christianity is being used as a cudgel to exclude, erase, deny, and kill trans people.

You don't need Christianity for community. Trans people are forming that well enough. You don't need it to reject cruel hierarchies or fight oppression. Those things are good on their own and should be done on their own merit. Folks like this are trying to hijack something good for their own ends and skip something cruel into what would otherwise be a beautiful thing.

[ikuhara]

Sodachi & Nadeko as a pairing — Yay or nay?

Even though I love them both so dearly, I'm ashamed to admit I'd actually never really thought about this pairing much before (especially not before finally seeing it animated!!!), but honestly now I think this could be super cute!!!!

They have very nicely suited personalities where they are similar in a lot ways and have a very clear understanding of each other's struggles. But they also have enough differences where it lets them push each other towards growth and are mutually positive influences.

The moment of Sodachi feeling inspired enough to go to her classes after she spoke with Nadeko was a something that hit me really hard.

I think particularly later in the series, when Nadeko is a bit older, I can see it being really good. The concept of Musubi-era Sodachi who actively is very invested in keeping up with all of Nadeko's serialized manga would be soooo adorable.

For now I think I mostly like it and see the potential of it with with Nadeko having a little crush and Sodachi as a positive mentor-type figure with a soft-spot for, and then it growing into more? Maybe??? But the longer I think about them as I ramble, the more I like it and could see it working in a variety of ways.

Plus I LOVED Nadeko's reactions when Sodachi would get into her personal space.

It read to me as very "lesbian Nadeko who has just recently begun to realize/accept herself is now more painfully aware than ever before that there's an absurdly beautiful girl holding her hand and getting inches from her face" style of being flustered.

[tapucocoafgc]

Feeling like the personification of anxiety today at having to hop on a plane and go see the people who think randomly verbally abusing me and bitching at me about how much they hate their spouse is peak conversation, but on the bright side I went to take out the trash earlier and it was so cold out I could see my breath and I felt like a dragon

[jonathanbyersphd]

The 3 AUs rotating in my brain like a microwave:

Modern/Marriage of convenience AU Jancy (background judgemental! Byler)

10 things I hate about you AU Jancy & Byler

Modern social media AU Jancy & Byler

The tragic news is I really SHOULDN'T start any of these until the semester ends or I least finish the academic rivals AU but we'll see 👀

[phhhotosfrom2015]

July 15, 2015

[ogradyfilm]

Recently Viewed: Return of Daimajin

[The following review contains MAJOR SPOILERS; YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!]

Recently, I had the pleasure of revisiting Daiei’s Daimajin. In many ways, it’s fairly typical of the studio’s consistently above average B-movie efforts, combining competent period drama (reminiscent of the Zatoichi and Sleepy Eyes of Death franchises) with spectacular kaiju mayhem (à la Gamera). The first film’s excellence, however, is utterly dwarfed by its sequel, Return of Daimajin, which elevates the previously established themes and tropes to almost biblical proportions: the political intrigue is more intricate and suspenseful, the battles more epic and meticulously choreographed (courtesy of director Kenji Misumi, a veteran of the chanbara genre), and Yoshiyuki Kuroda's special effects more elaborate and explosive.

The plot—which is repeated more or less verbatim across all three chapters of the trilogy like a poetic refrain—revolves around the concept of divine retribution. In the era preceding the unification of Japan, the land is splintered by conflict and strife. Ambitious, opportunistic tyrants ruthlessly exploit the peasantry; excessive taxation and slave labor abound, as commonplace and devastating as earthquakes and typhoons. When the innocent cry out for justice, the ancient deities that govern nature answer their call by animating a colossal ceremonial statue to wreak terrible vengeance. But the wrath of the gods is indiscriminate, and only the tears of the pure-hearted can once again quell the stone giant's blind rage following the completion of his violent duty.

The influence of foreign culture is already evident in that basic premise (the eponymous guardian spirit is essentially a reimaging of the golem from Jewish folklore), but this particular installment takes the allusions a step further. During his climactic rampage, for example, the monster magically carves a path through the waters of a vast lake like Moses parting the Red Sea. Additionally, his anger is roused by the desperate prayer of a young princess condemned to crucifixion and immolation by a conquering warlord; her selfless offer to sacrifice her own soul in exchange for the salvation of her subjects more than justifies the ensuing deus ex machina. Indeed, images of crosses pervade the story: the wreckage of a demolished torii gate, for instance, is distinctly cruciform in shape; the central villain, meanwhile, meets his karmic demise when he becomes entangled in the rigging of a burning boat—mimicking the sadistic execution that our heroine nearly suffered at his hands.

These (admittedly cosmetic) references to the iconography of Western religions and classical literature lend Return of Daimajin a mythic quality that distinguishes it from the rest of the otherwise rather formulaic series. Simple in its narrative structure yet absolutely immaculate in its craftsmanship, this sophomore entry in Daiei's sadly short-lived saga ranks among the very finest creature features ever produced.

[mercurygray]

Apple apparently dropped a couple of trailers yesterday - including one for their new The Buccaneers adaptation!

...so that's... happening, apparently.

(...😳😵‍💫🤢)

[assiraphales]

Jealous zoro is so important, thank you for preaching the gospel

its one of those things where once you notice it its impossible to unseen. like he really is canonically jealous n perpetually carrying around a thing of tum's. sure u could try and theme it as a mix of insecurity / competitiveness but its ALWAYS luffy related. the second luffy compliments someone kill bill sirens go off in his head. when usopp was cornerman, zoro was upset luffy didn't pick him . usopp complimented sanji, but it wasn't until luffy said 'are you a genius or what!' that zoro immediately turned to say 'its a little early to be kissing his ass / we can't go on rejoicing forever'. when franky showed off the sunny's weapon and luffy was glowing in awe zoro went 'you're way too impressed'. luffy says sanji is worth a 1000 men, and zoro says 'i'm worth 2000 then'.

the rest of the crew can fawn over ppl's assets all the want, but the second luffy does? its a case that does NOT sit right w zoro because HE is luffy's guy. he's luffy's specialist very cool guy!!!!!

[hellfirecvnt]

Hallelujah, What a Payday

Baby Billy Freeman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Baby Billy's on the search for his next co-star.

Warnings: Sex with that weird, old man (at the very end.) Religious trauma but with zero detail at all. If I refer to anything as "nonsense" or whatever, that's not about any religion and is only about the silly Gemstone activities.

Notes: Tiffany just doesn't exist here. I love her too much to write that she got left or something. This should've been two parts, but I promised we were gonna fuck him, so. We're also gonna ignore the Baby Billy body-double pp they show in the first episode. Don't even fucking act like that dastardly old man isn't packing.

"Five minutes, Y/N!" The angry stage manager screams backstage. You perfect your lipstick in the mirror and stand to straighten up your ensemble. You sing a few nights a week at a local lounge/venue for extra money. You're a local hit and it pays the bills.

Across the entire building, a man pays his way inside, tired after days of wasted effort. He sighs as he takes a seat, alone in a VIP booth. They're not cheap, but even if he hadn't sat there, anyone can tell he has money just from the way he dresses.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight's entertainment." A smooth voice vibrates over the intercom. You gracefully file out onto the small stage, illuminated well by a single spotlight amongst the mood lighting throughout the lounge. The tired man taps a finger on his table, watching with boredom as he waits for his drink to arrive.

"I'm all out of hope. One more bad dream could bring a fall..." Your voice rings through the air like honey sweetens tea. The lone man at the VIP booth nearly gives himself whiplash with the rate at which he turns to face the source of the illustrious talent. You continue to sing your cover, and slowly he begins to recognize the song.

Your eyes meet his, as you do at every show to engage with the audience.

"It's easy to deceive. It's easy to tease," you slide your hands down your sides, swaying back and forth sensually for this verse. "But hard to get release."

The pianist serves as backup vocals, delivering the iconic lyrics: "Les yeux sans visage."

"Eyes without a face; got no human grace. You're eyes without a face." Your vocals swell and the man stares at you, inspired. His mouth hangs agape with a hopeful smile.

After you finish your set of five songs, you take a small bow and excuse yourself to the bar. The well-dressed man all but trips over himself as he scrambles to meet you over there.

"Double vodka cran, please, Henry." You tell the bartender and he nods, starting your order.

"That's some voice you got there, darlin'." The man appears next to you, smiling a large, white, evangelical grin.

"Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed the show."

"Well, I more than enjoyed it. You got yourself a gift, now." The man extends his hand. "I'm Baby Billy."

"Baby?" You look at him, perplexed. He explains his backstory a little, insisting you should at least know who his sister is.

"You ain't never heard of Aimee-Leigh Gemstone?"

"Of course I have, I just don't listen to a lot of gospel." You shrug, truthfully hoping the conversation could end there.

"Well, darlin', do you ever sing gospel?" His eyes twinkle in the dimly lit bar area.

"I don't think that'd fare well for me here. This place looks fancy, it's costly to get in, but it's just a bar at the end of the day. No one wants to be preached to." You take a sip of your drink and he watches you closely, noting the pout of your lips as you press them to the glass.

"No, not here. Here." He lies a pamphlet out in front of you, sliding it closer along the bar. "I'm the head preacher at the new church in Locust Grove. Opens in a month."

"A man of God, huh?" You mumble as you skim over the pamphlet. "Does this gig pay?"

"God never asked us to exploit our talents for free." Baby Billy grins. You look him up and down. He's a walking red flag, but it's clear he's got money and as a broke woman on your own, you can never have enough.

"I'm free on weekends. I'll adjust my availability when I know you're serious." You say, stone-faced. Baby Billy hands you his card, passing it smoothly between his index and middle finger. You take it and stand from the bar, walking away, and disappearing into the green room to prepare for another set in an hour. He watches you, still sporting a wide smile as you stand. His eyebrows twitch in short-lived confusion. He pushes all that aside, only one thing matters now. He has his co-star.

Friday afternoon rolls around and Baby Billy attends your show, beaming at you from his expensive, empty VIP booth. He's practically got dollar signs for pupils.

"Friday is a weekday, Billy." You call over your shoulder as you excuse yourself to the bar.

"Baby Billy," he corrects, clinging to his childhood fame with all he has. "It's a brand, now. And who said I'm here for work? Can't a man just enjoy the show?" He follows you to the bar, taking a seat next to you.

"Well, did you enjoy it?" You turn to him with an amused smile. "The show?"

"It was even better the second time around."

"Thank you, Baby Billy," you say, with a knowing emphasis on 'baby.' "I guess I'll be calling you tomorrow, then."

"I'll be ready when you are, darlin'." He smiles warmly and you begin to wonder if you'll ever see him without that goofy, toothy grin stretched across his face.

Saturday morning, you're up, bright and early. You think nothing of the process of getting ready, throwing on a T-shirt and jeans along with various accessories you only get to wear on your days off, so you take every chance.

"This ain't a repeat of that... Lost soul you brought in last time, is it?" Eli settles back in his seat. He's sitting in one of the thousands of seats in the Gemstone Auditorium along with his three children, Judy, Jesse, and Kelvin. Baby Billy stands before them.

"No, damn, Eli. She's perfect for the job. She's got the face, she's got the voice, and most importantly, she's got stage presence." Baby Billy makes a grand case, convincing the Gemstone family that he's found an angel on Earth. Which is why it's all the more shocking when you walk in looking like an entirely different person than the woman he met at the lounge.

Everyone falls silent, they turn to face you as you walk through the door. The second you come into clear view, Judy Gemstone does a poor job of stifling a hateful chortle. Baby Billy meets you halfway, keeping you off to the side before you're front and center in front of everyone.

"The fuck you look like that for?" He asks with a peculiar sense of genuine confusion/ curiosity.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think it'd be a dress rehearsal." You narrow your eyes, placing a hand on your hip.

"When you called me this morning I thought I made it clear what kind of... Environment you might find yourself in." He waves his hands around as he says this.

"Is this an audition or did you scout me out?" You ask with a smirk, looking him up and down.

"Well, hear me out, now. Because if it were up to me, you're hired. But you need to hop up on there and prove to these assholes that I know what I'm doing."

"Playing dress up costs extra," You whisper. Without leaving time for him to respond, you walk ahead of him and confidently offer a handshake to Eli. The two of you become acquainted and he welcomes you to the stage.

As you step out onto the grand platform, it's awkwardly empty. You find yourself almost nervous, which is out of character for you. You've been performing since you were young.

"What am I singing for you today, Dr. Gemstone?" You ask, sensing a little bit of decorum could go a long way here.

"Looks like she's about to start blasting Rob fuckin' Zombie," Jesse, the oldest Gemstone son, quips under his breath. You narrow your eyes at him, clocking his appearance on the spot.

"I think I know what you wanna hear," you smile politely, pointing directly at Jesse. After a quick speed walk to the sound tech, you queue up the track for the song you've chosen. The music starts, and the two youngest Gemstone siblings burst into laughter. Even Eli chuckles.

"Hello, Darlin'. Nice to see you," you start. "It's been a long time, you're just as lovely as you used to be." The joke about Jesse's appearance quickly fizzles away as the Gemstones take in your voice. Baby Billy stands off to the side, gauging their reaction, absolutely elated.

"I told you he was trying to be Conway fuckin' Twitty," Judy whispers to Kelvin.

"Come back Darlin'. I'll be waiting for you..." You finish your song and take an unserious bow. You secure the job, and Eli even commends Baby Billy for finding you. After researching the Gemstones a little bit the night before, you quickly begin to realize how much money you could potentially make here.

"That was fantastic! That old fucker didn't think I could do it," Baby Billy gushes.

"And what did you do, just now?" You side-eye him.

"I found a star." He emphasizes his words with his hands. He's a charismatic and handsome man even given his older age.

"What's next? I'm sure this next month will be pretty busy with rehearsals." You laugh, already contemplating quitting your recurring lounge gig.

"Well, sure. We'll put in the work and all, but," he looks at you expectantly.

"What?" You ask, but he only gestures with his hand as if you should've caught on by now. "Oh, Baby Billy. I don't know if I'll be attending church tomorrow. I'm um, not a Christian."

"Huh," he says, dryly. You scrunch your nose, awaiting an uncomfortable lecture. "You work in this industry for so long, you forget some people aren't religious." He shrugs and you feel a sense of relief.

"I'm not busy today. Care to show me around the Locust Grove church? It's nice to know what I'm going into." He holds the door for you as you step out into the bright parking lot.

"I'd love nothing more." He grins.

At the Locust Grove location, you're wowed by the remodeled mall-turned-megachurch. He gives you the grand tour, specifying that you'd have your own area to get ready before each service.

"This is... A lot," you laugh.

"You're about to make it much more, darlin'." He ushers you up to the stage with him. "Let's give it a go, see how we sound together."

"What song are you thinking?"

"You don't know any gospel?" He peeks over his glasses at you.

"Not really," you shrug. "Well, I know Angel Band and I know Down to The River to Pray from that movie I like."

"Good fuckin' God." He sighs. "Down to The River." He counts off and starts the first verse. His voice is southern, crisp, and clear. You quickly decide in your head what fashion of singing would best compliment his. The chorus approaches and you ready your breath.

"Oh, sisters, let's go down. Let's go down, come on down," your voices melt together pleasingly. You can tell by the look on his face that he likes what he hears. The song ends for the two of you after that first chorus, that's all he needed to hear.

"It's about time something worked out for ol' Baby Billy," he shakes his head. "Now, the next matter to discuss is... Wardrobe."

"Yeah, I figured 'sunday best' would cut it, right?"

"Well, not quite." He leads you to a room past the storage area full of broken, useless mannequins. He walks up to a large armoire and pulls it open. Inside is one dress. It's wrapped in a layer of protective plastic that's done wonders to preserve it. It's campy and dated, though you can tell it was high dollar fashion for its time.

"Baby Billy, I'm not wearing this." You look at him, as if hoping he'll tell you he's joking.

"What? Why not? Now that was Aimee-Leigh's favorite dress," he glances back and forth from you and the dress.

"Okay and it's beautiful, but it looks like it's a hundred years old." You look at the striking piece of clothing again. "This is helpful, though. If this is the kind of look you wanna go for, I think I can make it work."

The two of you spend the rest of your time in the unopened church getting acquainted. You find him charming and entertaining. He finds you beautiful and unintentionally hilarious. You make him laugh often. It's like his own personal ray of sunshine on his shoulder.

It's late when you head to leave. You hardly noticed how long you'd been there. As you open the door to the dark parking lot, you turn to bid Baby Billy goodbye.

"Well, hold on, now, darlin'. Let me walk you to your car." He follows you out the door and to your vehicle. You roll the window down to thank him for the job, pulling your seatbelt over your head.

"I'll see you...?" You wait for him to tell you what day he plans to start practice.

"Monday afternoon, if you can make it." He places a hand on the roof of your car. "Now, listen. I know you ain't the religious type-"

"I will see you Monday, Baby Billy." You interrupt before he has the chance to invite you to church tomorrow. He shrugs, waving to you as you drive off.

That night, as you shower, you wonder if you were too rude with your rejection of his invitation. After all, you grew up going to church. Certainly not a mega church, but a church regardless. It's not a chapter of your youth and adolescence that you hold dear, hence your inclination to stay away from it all.

You set an alarm and wake up early Sunday morning... To get ready for church. You take this outing as a chance to demonstrate to Baby Billy and all the Gemstones that while your personal style may not mesh with their vibe, you've always had a way of blending in.

You put on a white dress with statement sleeves. Something to play off of the whole "voice of an angel" shtick. After perfecting the rest of the look, you leave with a satisfied smile.

You walk through the large double doors to the "Gemstone Worship Center" and look around. It's needlessly gigantic and overwhelming to take in.

"Y/N, is that you, darlin'?" Baby Billy's voice grounds you back on Earth. You turn to face him and he raises his eyebrows, shocked by your range of appearances. "Don't you look pretty this morning?" He grins, admiring your pearly glow in the white garment. He's elated to see you there. Not because he thinks you need church, but because he wanted to see you.

He introduces you to a few colleagues, and even Eli Gemstone reintroduces himself, shocked to learn you're the same woman from yesterday.

"Who is this with you today?" A tall, bald man with a thick African accent asks with a warm smile.

"Now, this is my girl, Y/N," Baby Billy gestures to you like a grand prize. Something about the title "his girl" makes your stomach flip, and you're not sure how you feel about that. "She'll be performing with me at Locust Grove."

The theatrical, pretentious service is long, loud, and feels uncomfortable the entire time, so it's hard to keep your mind and eye from wandering to anything else. Often, you glance at Baby Billy. He's brought you to his seats in the front area, so it's hard to drown the music out entirely, but everything does seem to muffle when you're staring down the white-haired enigma of a man before you.

After service, Baby Billy invites you to join the family at a restaurant called Jason's. You're hesitant at first, but Eli insists. When you arrive, the Gemstones are escorted to a level above the restaurant to a private section for their own VIP dining experience. It's frivolous to you, but it's nice to do something different for once.

After church lunch, the entire group congregates in the parking lot, saying their goodbyes and making promises to see each other next week. You smile politely, though a bit awkward, as you don't really know anyone besides Baby Billy.

"Nice get up, Rob Zombie." Judy Gemstone appears beside you, seemingly complimenting you, but she's just as confused as you are.

"Thank you, Judy. I just wanted to show that I know how to fit into a crowd."

"Yeah, well. You're not so bad, up there, on stage." Her tone sounds like she's accosting you, but her words sound genuine. As if she's not sure how to... Just be nice without intimidation tactics. "Singer to singer, don't let Uncle Baby Billy ride your coattails too hard." She struts off, linking arms with her husband and loading up into their lavish vehicles.

You feel a sense of comfort now, knowing Judy is just like that. It's nice to know you have another woman in the mix that you can look to as an acquaintance. Slowly, but surely, you find yourself melding into the atmosphere that follows people like Baby Billy around. You begin to feel more comfortable around the rest of the church leaders, though you realize rather quickly that there isn't much talk about God. It's nice.

As the weeks go by, you meet up with Baby Billy for practice every day. It's not the schedule you meant to give him, you just find yourself wanting to see him more and more. You delight in the strange way he talks and his charming mannerisms. You also think it's really funny when something goes wrong and he's suddenly not grandpa sunshine anymore, and he's kicking a speaker calling it a dick.

As the rehearsal window comes to a close, you and your co-star are inseparably close. On more than one occasion, one of you has slipped up and gotten a little too comfortable.

"Baby Billy, why does the mirror say something about washing my hands keeping me safe from Satan?" You ask, returning from the restrooms.

"That was song lyrics from back in mine and Aimee-Leigh's day," he laughs.

"Well, how do clean hands keep me safe in the eyes of the Lord?" You furrow your brow, in disbelief that anyone could believe this. Baby Billy is tinkering with the stage lights as they two of you converse.

"Well," he says, still messing with the light. "Just like those hands can commit sins, they can be washed clean by his mercy." He chuckles as if he already knows he's going to overstep. "Those look like sinner hands to me, darlin'." He winks.

"Sinner hands?"

"Ain't you ever done anything with those hands? Something the Lord might not smile upon?" He continues with his back to you, finally flicking on the light after his adjustments. Your face is hot and red with the realization of what he meant.

"Oh, yeah. I guess so." You shrug. Baby Billy turns to face you, taking a few steps closer. He's a good deal taller than you, so his lanky frame looms over you in a way that makes your stomach flip. He's barely a foot away, smiling down at you.

"You guess so," he repeats, tilting his head and grinning, letting the silence thicken for a moment. You give up on trying to fight back the blush in your cheeks, there is no way around it.

"Well, I guess let's get back to it," you clap your hands once in front of you as if to break up this moment and you take your position. Baby Billy just laughs and leaves you with a lingering confusion. The rest of the day, you can't seem to keep your head clear. A flip has switched and you find yourself lusting after this televangelist old man.

The two of you wrap up rehearsals for the day, but instead of leaving, you linger behind a little longer. You're unsure if it's nerves telling you to practice more, or if it's just you wanting to be around him.

"Next week is opening day," Baby Billy grins. The excitement is clear on his face with that brilliant, big smile. He takes a seat next to you and you both face the large, beautifully lit and decorated stage.

"That fast, huh?" You chuckle, trying to laugh away the knot in your throat so you don't have to swallow it.

"You're gonna be great up there," he says, catching you off guard. He seems to have mistaken your unexpected attraction as pre-show nerves. "Right next to ol' Baby Billy Freeman. This is a big break for you."

"Oh, it is?" You laugh.

"Look, I'm serious, now. The right ears hear us and we're signed and touring," he snaps his fingers. "Like that!"

"You sure you could handle being on the road with me? I'm kind of a diva," you joke. "If I don't get my beauty sleep, I look like a dead bug and I'll hit someone." Baby Billy bursts into laughter.

"I don't think a lack of sleep or even a semi-truck could deter what you've got goin', sweetheart."

"What do you mean?" You ask through a laugh.

"You're a looker, darlin'. You walk into a room and draw everybody's eye." His hands are animated as he speaks.

"Oh, yes. Flattery will get you everywhere," you laugh, lightly shoving his arm playfully.

"I mean it, now. You the prettiest girl I know." He shrugs.

"You're not so bad yourself." You smirk, leaning closer to him than you realized. He notices the closing gap and can't help himself, he leans toward you as well. Time seems to slow down just for a moment as you two share this closeness.

He glances at your lips, and then back up to your eyes. Your heart begins to race before the sudden, loud crash of the stage light Baby Billy messed with hitting the stage with great weight. You both sit up, startled by the sound, jumping away from the close quarters you'd just been in.

"Oh, uh," you regain your grip, realizing what poor business practice has just nearly taken place. You've fucked your boss before. You know it doesn't end well... "I should get going."

You stand and readjust your skirt, smiling nervously as you start toward the door. Baby Billy stands too, hopelessly searching for his next sentence, but for the first time in his life, he seems unable to find the words.

"Same time tomorrow, darlin'," he calls out to you as you step out the door. He takes a step over to the stage, sitting down and exhaling a big breath. What an old fool he'd have to be to think you'd want anything to do with him when you're so young-spirited and beautiful? Will that stop him? No. It won't.

The last few days leading up to the grand opening are full of those small, close encounters. One day, you tripped during dance practice and practically landed in his arms. You two locked eyes and it would've been done for right then if a janitor hadn't walked through the stage door. Another time, you were high up on a ladder, making Baby Billy hold it steady out of fear. The entire time you're above him in your dress rehearsal skirt, he can't seem to fight the perverted urge to glance up. When he does, he nearly loses his bearings. His face ignites red and he can't help but smile ear to ear.

It's no secret to either of you that some kind of tension has been brewing. Even the Gemstone siblings share a look of confusion when they see you two forget anyone else is in the room. Neither of you seems to notice how long your eye will linger on the other.

The Sunday of the Church's debut sneaks up on you after the last few days of having nothing but Baby Billy on the brain. You're less nervous about performing and more nervous about seeing him again. It's as if every time you two come together, the palpable tension in the air becomes thicker. You're certain you'll lose the ability to breathe the air around you if it gets any worse.

"You ready to make some magic, darlin'?" An excited Baby Billy startles you as he intrusively enters your dressing room.

"My God, don't you knock? I could've been naked," you laugh, perfecting your makeup in the mirror.

"I don't think you'd hear any protest from me, sweetheart." He winks and makes a quick getaway. To be honest, he wasn't quite meaning to say that part out loud. You're left red-faced and pleasantly shocked. The comments between the two of you have been growing more bold by the day, but that one takes the cake... So far.

You get dressed in your opening night outfit. It's a bit different than the one you wore to rehearsals. It's nicer, fancier, flashier, without all the dated glitz of Aimee-Leigh's 80's-esque dress that Baby Billy attempted to lend you.

It hadn't occurred to you that Baby Billy hadn't seen this outfit of yours. But his beaming, smiling face when the two of you step out in front of the crowd from opposite ends of the stage gives you a needed stroke of your ego. He holds an arm out to you, inviting you to his side as he introduces you and himself. It was established early in the arrangement that he'd do most of the talking, so you put on your best "quiet and pretty" act. You clap when the crowd claps, and you throw your hands up in "praise" when it seems appropriate.

Anyone who'd met you before this performance is genuinely confused by who they're watching right now. They expected you to give a hell of a singing show, they didn't expect you to play the full part so well. As you told them, you know how to blend in. The surge of energy that comes with any performance this in-depth carries you throughout the whole service.

With each song you sing, with or without Baby Billy, you cannot stop yourself from looking at him, over and over. Fuck the tension, something is building up inside of you and the adrenaline of the stage is only making it worse, for both of you.

Baby Billy bids the crowd farewell and you give a gentle wave as the two of you exit the stage, arm in pining arm. The very second the stage exit door closes behind you, muffling the sounds of the cheering and dispersing crowd, you and Baby Billy fall still, silent, and stare at each other for barely one breathless second and then your lips are on his. You both stumble for a moment before he steadies you, pressing you up against the nearest wall.

"God damn, Y/N," he whispers between hungry kisses. You pull away for just a second, just enough time to ask a question.

"My dressing room or yours?" Baby Billy answers that inquiry by reconnecting his lips to yours and guiding your intertwined bodies to his dressing room. It's the closest. The two of you stumble through the door and straight to the lengthy couch meant to make the room look more glamorous. He lies you back on the cushions and his two careful hands begin to wander.

"Darlin, you look incredible in this get-up," he huffs. "But I can't wait till I get it off of you." He quickly unfastens the buttons of your blouse and groans roughly just at the sight of your lacey bra-clad breasts. Soft, breathy moans escape your lips over and over as he gropes at you and grinds against you. "Now, you don't mind where this is goin', do ya?"

"No, shut up," you chuckle, pulling his mouth back to yours. Your hands rake through his hair and find their way down to his expensive, flashy belt buckle. He sits back on the couch, legs hanging off with his Italian leather shoes resting on the floor. He spreads his knees and you take your position between them. You're breathless with excitement as you free his erection from his slacks. The moment you wrap a hand around his shaft, you feel him still growing harder in your hand.

"God damn it," he sighs, tossing his head back against the couch. He wraps one hand in your hair, guiding your lips toward the head of his cock. "Come on, now. Don't make me beg for it." You chuckle at his eagerness, but you do as he says, wrapping your lips around his tip. Baby Billy sighs with relief as you slowly welcome him into your mouth. He gasps as you press your nose to his waist, taking his full length in your throat.

You bob your head up and down, still riding an adrenaline high that's enough to power through even the worst of neck cramps. He calls out small exclamations and whispers sensual praise, all of which makes the heat between your thighs burn hotter.

His moans become more and more vocal until he roughly pulls your head away, jerking you by the hair. You gasp at the pain, but it only fuels your fire.

"Get on up here, now. Let an ol' man get his kicks," he quips, helping you out of the floor before you take your place, lying before him on the couch. He buries his face in your neck, kissing away up and down your flesh as he continues undressing you. He unfastens the rest of the buttons on your blouse, slipping a hand under your bra and squeezing your breast eagerly.

"Come on, don't make me beg for it," you mimic his words, sliding your skirt up your legs, and exposing your panties. They're wet with arousal and he grins at the sight.

"I might just like to hear a pretty young thing like you beg to get fucked by the pastor." He grins deviously, pressing a gentle hand to your clit over the panties. "All this for me?" He chuckles, basking in the effect he has on you. After what feels like ages of teasing and edging, he slips the drenched underwear from your legs. The white-haired man stares in awe at your throbbing core, extending a hand to play with you.

He slips one digit inside you, earning a filthy, needy moan from your chest. Your mouth hangs agape with a gasp as he pumps his finger in and out of you, staring deeply into your shining eyes. He shakes his head, amused by his power over you and also in disbelief at the position he's in at this moment. Just a month ago you were a stranger with a beautiful voice on a stage he'd never taken a second look at. Since then, you've been the object of all his desires. How could he ever imagine you'd feel the same?

"Oh, my God! Please," you whine, arching your back as he fingers you. He chuckles, unsure how he's holding himself back. It must be how much he's enjoying the show.

"Shhh," he whispers, adding another finger. Guttural moans of heated pleasure pour from your lips like a waterfall. He eats up every second of it.

"You're doin' real good, now, darlin'." He positions his twitching erection at your aching entrance, playing with your arousal with the head of his cock. "Keep being good for me," he says as he slips himself inside. A long, needy cry escapes you as he slowly sinks to his hilt.

You stare up at him, locking eyes as his mouth hangs slightly open. He's breathless as your tightness squeezes him just right.

"Aw, damn, sweetheart," he groans, pulling back only to quickly slide back in. "You're somethin' else." He grunts and moans as he thrusts in and out of you, hastily picking up his pace. For an older man, he's incredibly virile. He fucks you for what feels like hours but is surely only a handful of steamy minutes. You squirm and whine beneath him as he steadily guides you to your climax.

"I- I'm-" you try to speak, but it's too late, he's fucking you into oblivion, riding out your high with a bright white, goofy smile on his face. He loves watching your face contort as you soak him with your orgasm.

"I hope you ain't done yet, sweetheart," he chuckles, sliding out of you. "Flip on over, now, darlin'. Let me get a look at that perfect ass you got." His praise ignites a wave of goosebumps across your skin. You do as he says, turning over and assuming a position on all fours, presenting yourself to him perfectly. He releases a breathy laugh, slapping both hands down on each ass cheek.

Baby Billy tightens his grip on your glutes and fervently tugs at you until you're lined up with his swollen cock. He slips inside you again, thrusting away at maximum pace. Your ass jiggles as he slams into you and he's hypnotized by the sight. His goofy grin has fallen to a serious expression as he chases his climax. He mumbles curse words and praise under his breath while pressing your back downward to amplify your arch.

"God damn, just look at you," he huffs, coming closer and closer to completion. "Whatever you want, Y/N, just say the word," he grunts between heavy breaths. "And it's yours, darlin'." You laugh at the way he offers you the world just from how good he feels inside you. It's a high compliment.

"B- Ba-!" You attempt to beg for mercy, but he's quick to cut you off.

"Shh, shh, now, sweetheart. Just... A little more," he groans, quickening his thrusts as he ends his sentence. He slams into you impossibly hard, incredibly fast, with both hands hooked around your waist. You release sensual cries of pleasure as he chases and finally catches his climax.

He withdraws from you, breathless and sweating. A string of lusty moans drips from his lips as he strokes himself until he finishes all over your ass. He stutters out a grunt before collapsing back on the couch. You're breathless, fucked out with your face buried in the cushion. The two of you fall silent for a moment as you catch your breath.

"Baby Billy?" You break the silence.

"Yeah, darlin'?"

"Could you pass me, um, a towel?"

"Oh!" He scrambles to his feet, tucking away his softening length. His unfastened belt jingles as he makes his way across his dressing room and grabs a towel from the neat, little stack of hand towels. "Allow me," he whispers, still catching his breath, as he wipes your skin clean, allowing you to comfortably collapse as well. He joins you on the couch, buckling his belt and straightening up his suit.

"That was... Amazing..." You sigh, somehow a little shocked at how well he just fucked you.

"It certainly was, Y/N. It certainly was." He lies back on the couch, allowing his eyes to fall shut. A hand reaches up to fix his disheveled hair. "Let's get them drawers back on you, now. We're late for Church Lunch."

You regain your composure and fix your clothes, sliding your panties back up under your skirt. After fixing your hair and your smudged makeup, you're ready to head to Jason's. You and Baby Billy arrive a few minutes after everyone else, and you take your seats next to each other. The table seems to grow quiet when you two join.

"Don't everybody start talkin' at once, now." Baby Billy looks up and down to both ends of the table. "What'd we miss?"

"From the sound of it, you didn't miss anything, Uncle Baby Billy," Judy scoffs. Baby Billy gives you a knowing look, grinning at you sweetly.

"No, Judy, I did not." He beams, proudly, placing an arm around your shoulder and planting a kiss on the side of your forehead.

•••••

Taglist: @justme12200 //

[gayszlen]

For the yet-to-be-informed, let me preach to you the gospel of Das gayszlen

What is Das Gayszlen?

Das gayszlen, generally translated as the "whip" is a technique in historical longsword fighting from 15th century German tradition. The basic mechanics of the gayszlen are as such: a single handed strike with the nondominant or lower hand, where the sword is released from a traditional grip to allow the blade to sweep towards the leg of your opponent. Some also define other one handed strikes, slices, or thrusts as a gayszlen, but (in my experience) the more common interpretation is the narrower definition I provided. There is some difficulty however in knowing definitively how it was used historically, beyond the general difficulty in knowing anything for certain in HEMA that comes with the territory of reviving a dead art. Much proverbial ink has been spilled online about how, when, and if it is appropriate to use, and many consider it to be a cheap trick, not to be used in serious competition or incorporated into a revival of historical fencing systems. I have Thoughts™ about it and my new URL change inspired me to detail those thoughts, continued below.

Where does it come from?

Ok. so. maybe "15th century german tradition" is a bit generous. There is a grand total of ONE source for the gayszlen, which is in a fechtbuch (fencing book) by fencing master and author Hans Talhoffer, one of the most influential and prolific of his time. His numerous manuals cover a wide range of weapons and techniques including grappling, dagger, polearms, mounted and armoured combat, as well as some more silly things like duelling/long shields and "man vs woman" duels (last two pictured below).

Despite all that and multiple depictions of many of the techniques for these silly "niche" styles of combat (at least in the context of modern HEMA practice, they likely were somewhat prevalent at the time and used to resolve legal disputes) there is only one illustration of the gayszlen, in one of Talhoffer's books. It depicts an exchange between a fencer in a "free point" (afaik the only time that term is used as well, though it is a position that is quite common in german longsword fencing, being a sort of hanging guard or the midpoint of a strike like a zwerchhau) and another performing the gayszlen against the aforementioned fencer, shown below (figure on the right is performing the gayszlen).

You may notice the text on the image, next to each figure! These say Ain fryes ortt and Das gayszlen, again translated as "a free point" and "the gayszlen". You may ask "but what does the actual caption or description say about it?!" I'm so sorry to disappoint you, and I share in your misery: this is all there is. Truly sad, I know. This lack of source material is (in my opinion) why there is so much difficulty defining it and so much debate over its historical usage and value in modern use.

So how do people interpret it?

As stated earlier, the (general) consensus is that it is a one handed strike (a hit, hew, or cut, as opposed to a thrust or draw/push slice) made with the offhand to the lower half of the opponent's body. One of the main disagreements on how to interpret this is whether the sword is "whipping" or cutting to the left from the right, or from the right to the left. Based on the foot position, it might look like the fencer performing the gayszlen (hereafter referred to as G) is bringing the sword from their left side to swing into the opponent's (hereafter referred to as F) left calf. However, this hand position and movement of the sword leaves G entirely open to attack anywhere on their torso or the right side of their body generally. An example of me (right) executing this interpretation is below: you can see that I do actually get the hit, but my opponent nearly hits me with the first strike to the right side of my head, where I am most vulnerable, and follows it up with another strike to my head. If this scenario played out with sharp swords and no protective gear I would lose this fight.

Another interpretation of the gayszlen is this: G holds the sword in any guard on the right side of their body (higher guards may be better for generating more force or deciding to do literally anything other than the gayszlen) and releases the sword from their right hand, holding the pommel in the left and sweeping the sword towards F's right calf. in the picture we have, it may be that the "free point" is meant to be a response to the gayszlen, and therefore F is retracting their foot to avoid the gayszlen, while striking G to their unprotected body. An example of me (left) attempting to execute this interpretation is below: even though my opponent fails to parry or suppress my attack, it wasn't necessary. I didn't have the reach to hit her leg, though her dodge may have saved her even if I had been a bit closer to begin or had extended farther.

Something that I believe supports this second interpretation is the general attitude of historical German longsword manuals to favor attacks and guards from above, to high openings, or generally closer to the upper half of the body than lower attacks and guards. A reason for this is detailed in many European sword systems, namely the destreza rapier tradition, thibault by extension, and meyer.

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/tPHbG28niyc

The above image and video are pretty simple explanations, the core idea being that a sword and arm extended at the height of the shoulder (or nearer the shoulder) will have more forward reach than a sword and arm extended higher or lower than the shoulder. Because of this, F theoretically has somewhat of a reach advantage over G, as their sword and arm are closer to their shoulder. though the utility (as I'll talk about more later) of the gayszlen is that it is done in a grip that extends G's reach beyond a normal grip like F has.

There are also interpretations that point to it being a thrust (like I attempt below) which is supported by similar techniques showing up in other European sword systems, which I could spend a whole equally long post talking about, but this is plenty long as is, maybe a topic for another time. The two lame reasons I have for not liking this interpretation is that a thrust doesn't seem very "whiplike", and also a thrust to the legs with one hand is harder to pull off than a cut to the legs or a one handed thrust to the torso.

How can I incorporate the gayszlen into my modern HEMA practice?

To preface this, throughout all of this I'm mixing terms and concepts from Fiore and Liectenauer and Talhoffer and Meyer and probably some other stuff. I primarily study and practice Liechtenauer blossfechten via Ringeck, Danzig, and Lew, as well as most of Fiore's system. This is just my opinion on what purpose the gayszlen can serve in the frog DNA filled world of HEMA longsword, this is not pure to any martial art system, just an application for the sport.

That being said: I believe the gayszlen's place in modern longsword fencing is similar to that of guards like the boar's tooth, long tail, or the key, all of which can use distance deceptively. they place the sword further back than it would be in an iron gate or a plow (guards which are somewhat close to those I mentioned) and allow the fencer using them to seem less threatening than they would with more aggressive guards. Likewise, I often find myself throwing gayszlens from positions where I'm somewhat retracted or seemingly out of distance, or preparing for an attack to another opening. This can often allow an attack at an unexpected timing or from an unexpected angle. I find it works well when your opponent is static in a guard and you to a distance juuust outside of where you could hit them with a normal grip, and the switch to a one handed pommel grip gives you the couple inches you need to get the hit, and hopefully enough speed to avoid getting beaten away by their sword. One of the big dangers with the gayszlen is the opportunity it presents for getting hit. When you employ this technique, you give up basically all protection your sword has to offer, you can't block any incoming attacks, and you don't have a good enough grip to bat your opponent's sword out of the way. This means that if you don't plan well, you leave yourself totally open to a double or a hit to you if they avoid your gayszlen. See below! The fencer attempting the gayszlen (right) goes in with his head down and totally unprotected, allowing the opposing fencer to get a really beautiful hit to his head as she dodges his gayszlen. This is what you should do if you encounter someone who is eager to use the gayszlen and you wish to discourage them.

A safer position (both to avoid getting hit and to avoid injury, as I'll mention in the next section) is a more upright stance and a deep lunge, though keeping your shoulder up, as I mentioned earlier, reduces your range to that lower point.

Why don't some people allow it in tournaments?

Many tournaments, in my area and others, don't allow gayszlens. some ways this manifests are bans on all one-handed cuts, all one handed strikes altogether, including thrusts, hits to the leg below the knee, etc. Some people just don't like the gayszlen, think it's too hard to judge, think it doesn't have enough historical basis, or think it is dangerous to the person doing it or the person having it done to them. A lot of those reasons are laid out in this article, which, while I disagree with most of the points, makes those points pretty well. It's also the first result when you search on google for gayszlen, which makes me sad :( Another argument regarding the safety that isn't mentioned in that article is that to get additional reach and evade strikes from above, some people get really low when executing a gayszlen, even exposing the back of their head or body, which can lead to some really nasty hits to the back of your head or your spine, which are vulnerable areas even when wearing gear, are are often the parts of the body that have the least protective gear. In my opinion, any ruling that is intended to ban gayszlens that we've seen is too broad. banning one-handed cuts (or strikes altogether) means that whole sections of manuscripts or traditions (such as fiore's uno mano plays) can't be performed, banning cuts to the legs or parts of the legs can give an advantage to taller fencers, discarding them automatically because they're too difficult to judge the quality of can punish those who have worked to perfect them safely, etc. At the end of the day it doesn't really make a huge difference one way or the other, and every tournament organizer is biased in the way they make their ruleset one way or the other, but I think the gayszlen is unfairly maligned. In my opinion, with proper attention to levels of force, protective equipment, and judging, the gayszlen deserves a place in modern HEMA tournaments.

ALSO IT HAS GAY IN IT TEEEHEE!!

some people pronounce it "guy-slen" and I usually say "gay-slen" and I don't speak modern or medieval german so idk how it should be pronounced but I like saying gay :) because homosexuality get it???? I

I've made the gayszlen a bit of a meme in my local scene by shouting "GAYSZLEN" whenever I do it, like an anime character. This is typically regarded with friendly annoyance, and it makes hitting this silly ass technique SO much more satisfying and makes whiffing it a lot less embarrassing :)

anyways thanks for reading my long ass post ily <3 if anyone has additional thoughts, please leave them in the comments! I'd rather not debate anything, but I'd be happy to discuss intricacies of the gayszlen's use and interpretation if you're nice about it!

[hiseyeisonthesparrow]

I find one of the most frustrating things about Mormon culture, especially where I live, is the fact that there are LDS Trump supporters. To be a lover of Christ and a lover of Trump is impossible. The two are antithetical from every standpoint. Donald Trump is a modern-day King Noah and it hurts me to see my fellow siblings in Christ fall prey to this ally of Satan. But why is Trump a Noah-esque advocate of the devil? Let's go over a couple major issues:

· "Illegal immigrants" - Trump condemns them, vilifies them, portrays them as the biggest threat to our nation. Not only does Jesus preach a loving-everyone kind of doctrine, Jesus himself was an immigrant and a refugee when he fled the genocide of King Herod.

· Wealth - Trump portrays himself as a man of much wealth. He loves an extravagant lifestyle and has buildings with his name on them. Jesus said that it was easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of Heaven.

· Taxes - You may go, "Uh-uh, Sparrow! Trump supports lower taxes while King Noah taxed his people largely! This is the opposite!" Wrong. Trump supports lower taxes for the RICH. Trump could not give a crap about the poor. King Noah taxed his people so him and his rich high priests could live a lavish lifestyle, much how Trump wants to lower taxes on the rich to support their lifestyles.

· Interracial marriage - Project 2025 seeks to outlaw interracial marriage. Jesus was a product of interracial parents. [Sure, those races were "human" and "G-d", but you get what I'm going for here]

· Religion in government and schools - Trump seeks to infuse "Christian values" into education and government. Not only would this be a horrible perversion of what Christ actually taught, but he even spoke in favor of a separation of church and state -- let Caesar attend to what is Caesar's, let G-d attend to what is G-d's.

· War. Trump previously demeaned Biden and urged him to help Israel "finish the job" in murdering every Palestinian in Gaza. Prophets in the Book of Mormon spoke against the "wars, and rumours of wars" in our day, and Jesus taught us to turn the other cheek to our opponents, and to love us that hate us.

I know I'm preaching to the choir here, but it hurts me to think that members of our gospel are being led astray by such a false prophet as Donald Trump, and I hope that in coming weeks and months, they don't conflate him with actual martyrs in our church's history. Political parties are the secret combinations of our day and Trump is an ambassador for violent and judgemental thinking that Lucifer feeds off.

Remind a Trumpist Mormon close to you of the loving nature of Christ and his gospel today! :}

[q8qwertyuiop8p]

I was blown away by this post and need to talk about it, or I will never sleep lol. I wish I could show you our entire conversation but the OP deleted all my comments so I couldn't screenshot anything.

https://whereserpentswalk.tumblr.com/post/747399887511060481/the-nazis-that-you-see-in-movies-are-as-much-a

"Nazis weren’t atheists or pagans. They were deeply Christian and Christianity was part of their ideology just like it is for modern conservatives. They spoke at lengths about defending their Christian nation from godless leftism. The ones who hated the catholic church hated it for protestant reasons."

The nazis, including Hitler, were absolutely not supporters of Christianity, you don't even need to be a Christian to see why this is so problematic. The main idea of Christianity is that Jesus is the Messiah, the one and only Son who loved the world so much he sacrificed his life to pay the debt of our sins.

Jesus isn't just not Aryan, or not white. He is a Jew. Christians literally worship him, seeing him as both fully human and fully divine.

Hitler taught that Jews were inferior, the scum of the Earth, deserving of inhumane treatment and death. Why would he support a religion that worships a Jewish man as the Messiah?

Furthermore, the gospel teaches that ALL people, regardless of sex, race, ethnicity, etc. We're made equal in the eyes of God, and that we all came from the same two people.

Hitler taught that the Aryans were the superior race, and preached the inferiority of anyone else. Why would he support a religion that so blatantly contradicts his teachings?

But wait- if Hitler and the Nazis were against Christianity, why did they employ Christian rhetoric in speeches? Why did they negotiate a treaty with the Vatican?

If you are a psychopath vying for support and leadership in an overwhelmingly Christian nation, are you really going to talk about how useless you see Christianity, or how it is a threat to your rule? Of course not. Hitler was a demagogue. He wanted to appeal to the common 1930s German citizen, which meant he would need to appeal to Christians.

It wasn't until he had secured power that he could finally show his true colors, breaking his promise to the Vatican to not interfere with the rights of the church. Among the many groups persecuted in the holocaust were Christians, especially Roman Catholics. Clergy in Germany and other territories were closely supervised to make sure they didn't contradict the Nazi teachings, Catholic organizations were shut down, and many prominent Christians were sent to camps for forced labor and execution.

I pointed out some of these the the OP, to which they responded

How stating that the Nazis weren't supporters of Christians and that Christianity cannot coexist with Nazism makes me a holocaust denier, I don't know. I'm not the one denying that a certain group was persecuted by the Nazis (the OP stated in a comment of theirs that the Christians put into camps were only attacked for their ethnicity, not their religion) and trying to make it look like the Nazis actually loved and cared about that group.

I also don't understand how Christianity is inherently antisemitic. I asked the OP what about it was antisemitic, so after deleting all my comments, they blocked me. If you have the answer, let me know, I am genuinely curious.

It makes me sad to see that people actually believe this kind of propaganda. Also, if you're going to make a post about the evils of Nazism, you probably shouldn't use misinformation to villianize and scapegoat a group, or censor people who speak out against said misinformation. Just saying.

[c00kietin]

It's the 17th of March, so y'know what that means-

Happy Saint Patrick's Day to you all! I know the majority of you probably don't celebrate, which is fair, BUT I decided I wanted to talk a little more about the country I was born and raised in- the Emerald Isles of Ireland!! :D

If you're just here for the art, well here ya go! However, if you want to learn more in a VERY long post:

Just to start off, here's the Irish flag and the Ivory Coast flag! Wanted to add this because they can get easily mixed up (I got them muddled up a LOT when I was younger-)

Since it is Saint Patrick's Day, I should probably elaborate what that's about- what I've been taught in school is that Saint Patrick preached the Gospel to the Irish, one method including the shamrock to represent the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Of course, and the whole "he drove the snakes out of Ireland" but don't worry. There are still snakes in Ireland. And I'm pretty sure "snakes" is a metaphor anyway. And, turns out, he wasn't even originally from Ireland- he was British! Oh yeah, and he was kidnapped by pirates to become a slave when he was a teenager for 6 year s -

Here are some stereotypes or the first things that pop into your mind when you think of "Ireland"- leprechauns, short gingers, "Top of the mornin' to ya" and our love for spuds and beer. And, to tell you some stuff about them too!

Leprechauns originally wore red! They pop up in fairy tales quite often too.

Ireland is second when it comes to having the highest percentage of gingers with 10%, with Scotland having 13%. As for being short, I reassure you, there are plenty of tall and/or lanky people around. (A lot of my teachers are like this-)

I've heard no one say this as a greeting. The only Irish person I can think of who does is Jacksepticeye. You might be more likely to hear "How's it going?" or "What's the crack?"

As for loving beer, we are one of the highest consumers for it, but there are many other higher consumers! Also, I don't know if this is a thing in America or not, but we tend to call them pubs. Bars are a bit more...fancy? I don't know how to describe the difference.

And for loving potatoes? Okay. This is probably true lol. Almost everyone I know likes potatoes (with some exceptions). And, of course, who can forget the Great Famine when blight destroyed the potato crop and killed around a million people- spuds were a huge source of food back then.

And now, for language! Here are some I'm used to hearing quite regularly (and use often, too!)

Another two that I want to add are more Cork exclusive, but saying "boy/girl" at the end of sentences and using "like" a lot is quite common (especially the like one- I say "like" all the time ;v;).

And now, Irish itself! Now, I'm not going to tell you anything major (I'm not a teacher) but I will try my best to explain a little!

Irish is not the main language of Ireland but in some particular areas (shown in the right image) there are regions called Gaeltacht districts which predominantly speak Irish. Their Irish would be a lot better than my school-knowledge based Irish :'D Another thing to add is that different provinces (the provinces shown in the middle image) have different versions, or pronunciations of some words. Being from the province of Munster, I've been taught the "Munster" pronunciations and words.

So..."Tá mé éan sásta" would mean "I am a happy bird" :D

I apologise for how messy my writing looks-

OKAY. ONE MORE THING I WANTED TO COVER IN THE IRISH LANGUAGE IS THE NAMES, because I've seen plenty of people online and in real life joking lightheartedly how hard Irish names are pronounced. So here are some Irish names!!

Saoirse - this one is brought up quite a bit- It can either be pronounced as "seer-sha" or "sair-sha"!

Róisín - "roh-sheen" !

Eoin - even I had a hard time pronouncing this when I was younger- it's pronounced as "owe-in" like "owing" but without the g!

Fódhla - I remember this appeared in the newspaper once and a family member was baffled by it- it's said as "foh-la" :]

Another I want to mention is Eilish- you probably know it thanks to Billie Eilish, which is pronounced as "eye-lish"- but it can also be pronounced as "eye-leesh"!

Last one, Sinéad- you may have seen this one once or twice as is pronounced "shin-aid" :D

And now, some more quick stuff!!

Musicians from Ireland!!

On the left you have Hozier (love his music!! :D) and the right is the Cranberries!!

Some other Irish artists you may be familiar with are U2, Thin Lizzy, Westlife and Sinéad O' Connor!

Some popular Irish snacks!!

crisps/chips!! (I love em both dearly)

of course, how can I not bring up Irish bread: soda bread and blaas :D

Hot chicken rolls!! (seriously how are these not more popular elsewhere-) and spice bags!! (chips with spices, peppers. maybe chicken)

Animal wise, we haven't got anything too crazy, but we do have one of the largest breeds of dog, the Irish greyhound and the now extinct largest deer, the elk.

I think I'm beginning to run low on space, so I'll end it there!! If you're also Irish, free to add on facts/words!!

I don't usually say this but I would kinda appreciate reblogs since I felt like I put a bit more effort into this ;v;

So uh, yeah- Happy Saint Patrick's Day!! :D