#Isaiah is pedantic

[andersunmenschlich]

An Utterly Unsurprising Confession

I am a pedant.

This is partly because I'm autistic, and partly because I was raised and educated by an English teacher. To make matters worse, I was reading the Bible and Shakespeare and so on before I hit double digits. All of this gave me some rather outdated ideas about how English ought to be used.

My entry into the wider world of the internet gave me a terrible grammatical shock. Not only did I have trouble understanding other people, they had trouble understanding me!

I spend a fair amount of time searching Google to learn how to use English the way modern people do.

One night, in the course of this googling, I ran across a Tumblr post.

Now, I don't know who @how-to-write-horror is. They haven't provided any pronouns in their blog header (neither have I; this isn't an uncommon practice), so I'll be referring to them neutrally until I learn their actual pronouns… which I am assuming are most definitely not they/them. "He or she" is so clunky, however, that I refuse to use it.

I could refer to them as it, but that seems rather dehumanizing, don't you think? When I'm fairly certain, based on their opinions about pronouns, that they're either a he or a she?

And yes, I did visit their linked website—it doesn't give their pronouns either.

So "they" it is. Onward!

First they proclaim that "they" is NOT a singular pronoun, and appeal (as proof) to the fact that "they is not singular" sounds absolutely horrific grammatically. They're right, it does.

"You is not singular" sounds equally bad.

This part of their article could easily be rewritten to condemn the singular you, and because that amuses me, I'm going to do it.

The Pronoun "You" is Always Plural.

If "you" were truly singular, it would be interchangeable with the singular pronouns "he/she/it." I can easily prove that to be false. For example:

Peggy is wearing a sweater because she is cold. Let's substitute "she" with "you" to prove that "you" works in this sentence.

Peggy is wearing a sweater because you is cold. "You" and "is" don't work well together. The verb "are" is traditionally used with "you," so let's try something else.

Peggy is wearing a sweater because you are cold. Nope, it still doesn't work. The verbs "is" and "are" don't work together in this sentence. The verb "is" is singular and "are" is plural, so if they're both referring to the same noun, they have to agree with each other.

Peggy are wearing a sweater because you are cold. How many Peggys are there, and how many can wear the same sweater at the same time? Items of clothing are usually designed for single-person use.

Peggy is one person, not a crowd of people. In order for "you" to correctly—in a grammatical sense—refer to a single person named Peggy, the entire English language would have to be restructured.

Strangely, different pronouns work different ways. "You are wearing a sweater because you are cold" works just fine despite the grammatically plural yous and ares and the singular sweater. So does "they are wearing a sweater because they are cold." Baffling!

In their next section, How To Write Horror insists that "they" has not been used as a singular pronoun since the Middle Ages.

To summarize their preliminary arguments:

・In the Middle Ages, people spoke Middle English, not English as we know it today. Even Shakespeare didn't speak modern English, he spoke Early Modern English. The grammar rules of English have changed hugely since the Middle Ages, and so it's patently ridiculous to appeal to tradition in this area: we can't go backwards grammatically (why, I'm not sure).

・Middle English's grammatical rules were inconsistent and depended on location, so you can't appeal to them (a baffling non sequitur: if a rule was the rule at one time, in one place, of course you can point at it and say "see, this was the rule there and then"—and if you like, of course you can go on to say "let's resurrect this one and use it again here and now").

・Most of those old time English speakers were illiterate, which reduced them to using more casual, less grammatically correct English. We modern folk can do better. (Holy superiority complex, Batman. The shortest rebuttal possible: not everyone thinks grammatical excellence is the point of language. Helpful to the point, yes—but not the point itself.)

This, I realized when I finished reading, was a set-up for the astounding move they made at the end of the article.

Next they accidentally explain that while "every person in the room has his own car" is grammatically correct, that does not make "his" a singular pronoun. Since "his" is referring to both singular individuals as well as a group of people, it's plural.

…Or could it be that a sentence which refers to both a plurality (every) and a singularity (person) is correct with either singular or plural pronouns? Hmm.

How To Write Horror's next point involves actual historical examples.

"And whoso fyndeth hym out of swich blame, they wol come up and offre in Goddes name, And I assoille him." —Geoffrey Chaucer, Canterbury Tales, The Pardoners Tale

Translated to modern English, that's: "And whoever finds themselves guilty of such things, they will come up and offer in God's name, and I will absolve them."

Of course, we could also translate it, "And whoever finds himself guilty of such things, he will come up and offer in God's name, and I will absolve him." That's not really Modern English, though—it uses the neutral "he," which pretty much nobody is used to seeing anymore. Even men today might find themselves wondering, "What about the women?"

(Thus far it's pretty much only enbies who notice their own exclusion, but I gather that's changing.)

What is How To Write Horror's point here? Well, they argue that the original "they" was probably a mistake… and even if it wasn't, since "whoso" is both singular and plural, and the singular "him" is actually a hypothetical singular and therefore plural, the "they" in this sentence refers to a plurality rather than a singularity and is itself plural, Q.E.D.

This doesn't actually change the modern usage of the singular they.

None of their arguments do, if you were waiting for that. .

"Somebody left their umbrella in the office. Would they please collect it?"

"The patient should be told at the outset how much they will be required to pay."

"But a journalist should not be forced to reveal their sources."

"This is my friend, Jay. I met them at work."

All of these examples from Wikipedia can be rewritten to avoid the singular they. But why should they be? They're not confusing, and not inaccurate by the grammatical rules of modern English in 2024.

(I personally might rewrite 3. I think "but no journalist should be forced to reveal their sources" more accurately expresses the feeling of the sentence—and it's still a perfectly good example of the singular they. You can swap their for his, her, or its without grammatical issue. This is a slightly different subject to the one at hand, though.)

"This is my friend, Jay. I met Jay at work."

Why on earth would you go out of your way to refer to a person like that when there's a perfectly serviceable gender-neutral pronoun available for them and, presumably, they've told you that they like it when you use it for them?

Are you an asshole? That's the only reason to refuse to call a person what they want to be called that I can think of.

Catch me refusing to call Ted "Ted" because his legal name is Theodore and what he likes to be called is technically incorrect. Pedantry forbid I should taint my speech just to make another person feel respected.

My speech isn't even tainted! I'm playing by discarded rules! .

How To Write Horror lives up to their name in the next section by revealing that they see nonbinary people as egotists (or possibly egoists) who insist on the pronouns that feel right for them because they think they're specialer than everyone else on the planet.

Special People Use Special Words to Illustrate Their Special-ness.

See? I wasn't exaggerating. They list people (and characters) who use/d plural pronouns: Yahweh Elohim, Queen Victoria, anyone of high social status back in the days of Shakespeare.

They mention that "you" used to be solely plural, somehow miss the fact that grammatically it still is, and carry on to argue that people who use they/them pronouns should also employ the Royal We in order to remain grammatically consistent. Given that some people undoubtedly call How To Write Horror "you," perhaps How To should also use the royal we. If you, an individual, are referred to with a plural pronoun, then, grammatically….

Or perhaps they'll start insisting nobody point at them and say "you" anymore. For the sake of the English language.

Next they take a 1759 quote from the Earl of Chesterfield:

"You will say perhaps, one cannot change one's nature; and that if a person is born of a very sensible, gloomy temper, and apt to see things in the worst light, they cannot help it, nor new-make themselves."

They argue that the "a person" in this sentence is a hypothetical person, and therefore actually more than one person.

Let me rewrite the quote and their argument about it.

"He will say perhaps, one cannot change one's nature; and that if a person is born of a very sensible, gloomy temper, and apt to see things in the worst light, you cannot help it, nor new-make yourself."

"You" and "yourself" are used hypothetically in this sentence, making them plural.

The Earl of Chesterfield moved from using directly singular words, "he will" and "one cannot change," to the hypothetical phrase "if a person." "A person" is singular, but it's a hypothetical singular because the determining article "a" is non-specific; "a person" means one person among many and is, therefore, plural.

Using the conditional word "if" supports hypothetical use. Chesterfield is including other people with the same temperament as his son under those who are unable to "new-make yourself." If "you" were a truly singular personal pronoun in this example, Chesterfield could've said something like this about his son:

My son, Philip, you is such a gloomy gus.

The fact that certain pronouns are grammatically plural and so cannot be used with singular grammar even when being used singularly seems to have escaped How To Write Horror.

In fact they declared that "you" was a directly singular word, despite its inescapably plural grammar!

They also decided to use a sentence that sounds weird with a pronoun in it at all. "My son, Philip, he is such a gloomy gus"? Who says that? "My son, Philip, is such a gloomy gus." There you go. Much better. If you really want the pronoun in there, all right—let's shove it in. But keep it grammatical!

Talking about Philip: ・"Oh, Philip, my kid. Yeah, they're such a gloomy gus."

Talking to Philip: ・ "Oh, Philip, my child. You are such a gloomy gus."

Less unnatural and strained uses of the singular they and the singular you, How To Write Horror can look for throughout this post (assuming they take the time to read it). I'm sure they'll find a few!

Next, How To Write Horror hedges their bets with a claim that this letter was written informally, much as emails are written today, and so can't possibly be used to show how people were using the word "they" in the past anyway, even if Chesterfield was using it singularly. Bit of a contradiction, that. Of course it shows how people were using the word "they" in the past. It's a record of past use of the word "they."

I think their assumption is that only the strict grammatical rules of the time apply, where "strict grammatical rules" means "the grammatical rules I personally think count as valid."

Otherwise why would HTWH go out of their way to disparage the grammatical rules of Middle English? .

They bring up Thackeray's "A person can't help their birth" to claim once again that "a person" is plural (and so, logically, if you write "a person can't help his birth" that makes "his" a plural pronoun too), and move on to try and explain away Shakespeare:

"There's not a man I meet but doth salute me As if I were their well-acquainted friend." —William Shakespeare, The Comedy of Errors (1594)

A modern English speaker would translate this as, "Everyone I meet greets me like I'm their best friend."

A couple decades ago I might have translated it "there's not a man (meaning a human) I meet who doesn't salute me as if I were his (gender-neutral) well-acquainted friend." What do you suppose How To Write Horror thinks this does to the pronoun "his"?

To substitute:

"There's not a man…" is a hypothetical reference, which is further supported by the hypothetical phrase "if I were." Shakespeare is not saying one man saluted; he's saying that many men saluted individually. One man among many men in plural, making "his" plural.

If Shakespeare were calling out one man then why didn't he say "that man saluted me"? Why would he be vague when talking about a specific person?

Well, they must be right. That's all so very convincing. This must prove that "he" and "him" and "his" are all plural.

Certainly it can't be the case that singular pronouns work just as well, grammatically, in a sentence like this. No. That would be ridiculous, and make this attempt at proving "their" can't be singular a complete waste of time. Surely How To Write Horror wouldn't do that. So "he" must be a plural pronoun!

How odd that it's written with singular grammar.

But there—"you" is written with plural grammar, and yet How To Write Horror insists that this doesn't make it plural. I guess that just happens sometimes.

Pardon the heavy sarcasm: I hope no one's being crushed under it!

They repeat the same argument in a different form (the "he" in each one in his craft is wise is plural, apparently), stumble upon an actual plural they (a group of sacrificial animals in the KJV)… and then, finally, they wrap the whole thing up with the most thorough rejection of possible future evidence that I've seen outside Christian apologia:

If anyone finds a historical example of the singular they which How To Write Horror can't explain away, it's because that historical writer was breaking the rules of English.

Fin.

[hochmvt]

Welcome back to your favorite horror podcast '𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒'. I'm your host Isaiah, this is episode 152 and I'm so glad you joined me on this beautiful day. I hope you're doing fantastic and ain't suffering from the current heat as much as I do. Recording this in the middle of nowhere – but … what else is new –, today we're following the story of Violet and Hunter, a happily married couple from the midwest. Or … so it seems. After Hunter noticed some changes in his wife's behavior, the couple's true love for one another was tested. What happens if the person you thought you knew in and out starts to act erratic? What if you discover new sides to them you're not only unfamiliar with but also scared by? How well can you know a person, despite being married to them for years? Before we dive into the topic of truly knowing people and the seemingly harmless multifacetedness of "love", as always: thank you for tuning in.

Alright ! Welcome back, welcome back! As I said before, I'm so glad you joined me on this fine day. I saw you guys' posts on Reddit wishing my mom well and I'm glad to say, that your little affirmations worked wonders. She's feeling on top of her game again and was touched by your compassion, so she thinks you aren't just weird internet people anymore – then she thought about signing up for Reddit herself and I kinda talked her out of it. Luckily. That being said, enough of the chit chat and let's get right into it.

I stumbled across Hunter's story approximately two weeks after the first 'incident'. See, I'm not necessarily much into this entire married couple kinda thing (to be honest with you, in the beginning it kinda sounded like they just needed some couple's therapy and I was about to brush it away) but this one eventually felt like something more serious. When I met up with Hunter, this poor fella looked like he hadn't slept for weeks. We were supposed to meet at a Diner closeby to the motel he stayed at. I got there a little late, stood outside, smoking a cigarette and watched the people inside. It was hard to miss him. He sat at the counter, looking like one of those guys at 3AM in any old dive bar, thinking about what to tell their wife when, where and why the 'Only two pints, hun, I promise' - pledge was broken.

To be honest with you, after what he told me, the only medicine that would've worked with Hunter was Jaegermeister – and in that moment I was convinced that I am the funniest person on planet earth – but I didn't make the joke in front of him.  Violet was your typical girl next-door ; rather modest, pedantic, however she was kind and thoughtful. Pulling pranks or dicking around wasn't something in her repertoire – contrary to Hunter. Frankly, both of them seemed kinda contradictory from what Hunter had told me. Two weeks prior, Violet had returned from a trip to her sister's place down in Parks, close to the Kansas' border. What Hunter had noticed upon her return in the middle of the night was her frizzy, tangled hair, her tired eyes and terse behavior, but he didn't think much of it. After all, she just arrived from a four hour drive in the middle of the night, so she headed to take a shower before going to bed. 

Isaiah's phone rang. In the middle of recording. Who on earth dares to call at 3AM in the morning? All of his friends knew where he was, they usually checked the time zones, if they decided to give him a call (which rarely ever happened, none of them was really fond about talking on the phone). Upon sorting his thoughts, he realized what n̸̡̢͍̯̤̥̞̼̦̭͈͇͇͚̭̠̜͈̘͇̤̯͕̉͗̃́̑̓͑̊́̊͐͆̒̿́̈͌̓̽̚̕̕͜à̷͕̤̳̪̩̪̫̳̺͉̗̈̊̍͐̀̀͑̀͗̿͠ͅm̸̡̡̨̨̛̭͓̦̺̼͉̣̯̲̖͔͖̟̙͈̜̞͔̙̗͈̺̳̼̬̞̞̮̙̥̼̝̄͌͂͌̍͌̾̓̓͑́͋̇̀̂̓̂͛͋̓̈́̂͑̑̍͒͒͂́͛̀̈́̂͑͂̂̉̉͘̕̚̕͘͝͝e̴̡͖̼̦̗̝̪̙̰͖̯̟̲̳̠͇̥̿̈̀̈́͑̏̈̏̀̌̏̊̈́ had popped up on the screen; his heart dropped, his hands felt clammy. C̷̨̛̪͎̩̣̫̮̰͈͛̈́͋̾̔̌͛̿̀̄̕͜͝ͅͅa̵̻̳͔̜͓̠̙̤̖͈̲͋̽̊̅̇́͗̒͑̆͒̇̔̅̑͂̒̆̇̏͐̍͘͜͝͝r̵̨̡̨̧̢̡̧̛̗̭̤̗͖̝͕͈̠͚̹͓̫͔͚̫̫͈̱̦̦̱͇͙̖͎̬̘̬̪̫̣̪͉͈̹̮͓̟̅̑̅̓̓̽̄̃͂̎̀̆̐̒̐̍̈́̏͒̐͌̂̾̚̚͜͜͝͝ṱ̷͔̰̮͉̭̳͙̣̫̥͉̻̝̠͈̭̼̦̩̯̰͙̩͎̳̱̺̞̖̺̬̹̃͜ͅę̸̨̻͙̯̦̲͕̟͎̰̬̼̝̪͙̫͉̗̜͔̞̳̻̪͕̳͔̗͎̤͕̖̙̬̮̼̳̗̺͋̏̃̓̍̆̃̇̎͝͝ͅͅr̸̨̹̩̮̤̙̗͎͕̬͛̉͗̓͊͊̅̆̈́͂͌͛̄̓̐̍̋̚̕̚͠. He hasn't called in ages. 

They were teenagers back then, Isaiah had no idea how to approach him, a̶̛̛̟̯̼̩̟̣͎̺͇̼̼̥̳̮͓̐̓̓̑̽͊͗͑̇̂̾͗͐͑͋̀͗̾̋͊̓͊̀̆̾̓͛́̈́̽͒̇͐̂͐̌̇͘͘̕͘͘̕̚͝͠f̸̳̠̩͈̣̗̜̹̘͔̣͖͔͓̟̠̝̖̦͙̖̤̫̖͍͉͖̓̌̐ͅţ̶̡̰̤̗͎̪̘̦̪͈̦̝̮̙̩̤͚͍̥̟̜͍͓͍͇͔̜̝͕͖̳̎͆̿̌͒́̂͊̽̂͒̉͂̐̽̓̋̽̚͜͝͠e̷̡͍͚̞̣͍̯̼͈͕̥͈̭̯̪͈͙͔̤̬͌̈́̀͑̐̃̆͒̃̂͌̈́̀̍̐̈́̈́͂̃̐̍̎̓̂̔̎͒̆̒͌́͗͛̏͛̈́͂̃̀͊̏̊͂̚͝͝͝͝͝r̵̨̧̙̻̳͕͎̻͇͚̦͓͓̭̦̰͎͇͉͚͎̜̓́͐͑͛͗̿̎͊͂̄̆͋͑͊̆̔̽́̃̆̓̂͊̿̂̅̎͂̌̏̒̐̍́͐͌̎̈́́̋́́̂̚̕̚͝͝͠ͅ ̴̢̧͇͖̪͎͎̾̑̀̎̑́̿̆̆͛͐́̋̈́̃͂́̀̈́̑̅̍͒̍̀͋̓̓̽͘̚͝͠w̸̡̖̟̲̯̩̋̈́̈́̉́̏̓̅̎̿̀̇͐̓̽̀̀́͑̀͆̎̓͗̍͛̋́̓̑̐͛͘ḩ̵̧̧̡̢̛͖̝͓̞̻̩̺̺͍̯͓̥̻͉̭̪͇̝̥̖̦͍̠̤̫͇͓͉̜͚̙͔̪̱̰̘̘̉̐̀̐̐͗̾̽̑̎̓́̔̇̑́̽̋̊̈̔̀́͊͌̓͘̕͘͘͠a̵̧̡̨̡̧̛̛̛̺̳̙͚̖̜͎͖̗̗̭͔̝̗̺̪͓̠̖̬͍̺͚̖̻̬͙̩̖̭̫͈̞̫̯̗̙͙̲̯̫̥̯̒̌̋͛̄͊̈̄̓͒̂̐͗̋̃͂͊́͐̈́́̎̈̀̒̽̐͛̏̐̌́̈́͂̊͂̇̾́̊̋͗̕͜͠ͅt̴̡̛͉̙͎̹̘̭̙͕̝̠̖̮̤̬̭̯̺̻̞̣̻̤̱̟͇̩̮͈̦̩͇̹̞̜̜̤͇͎͙͓̠̋̌̏̓̽͛͋̆̏̏̉̓͌̍̀̈́͆͘͜͜͜͝ ̷̨̡̢̛̛̟͚̳̝͍̞̬̖͙̳̯̼̯͔͙͙̩̻̤͍͕͉̠͍̠̣̞̤̺̘̞̪̦͍̯̻̗̮̤̮̗͉̣̊̈́̈́͒͊̔̈́͆̓̑̏̿̆̄̂̿͒̒̌́̏͌͛̒̆́̕̚͜͝ͅͅh̵̡̩̦͔̣̅̐̐̀̊̀̃̊́̅͗̂̂̍͂̓́͑̒̑̎̎̓̑̋a̸̧̢̡̤͔̣̰̲̣̳͚̟͇̜͚̯͂̽̏̌̀̀̉̅̏̀̉͌̎́̋͐̑̿͒̄̑͗͐̊͊̓̽͘͜͝͠ͅͅḑ̸̢̡̞̖̳̳͉͎̱̣͚͙͇̣̤͔̦̼͉̤̹̙̆̈̎͗̀́́̂̍̄͐̃̈́̓̊̂̀̏͆͗̋͠͝ ̴͓̞̬̗͓̳̼̖̠͎̭̖͕͚͍̼̘̤̞̥̏̈́̄̑͐͒̆̏͊̌͌͜ẖ̷̛͎̌̆̋̾̃̍̍͂́̃͌͒̒̊̄̿̆͗̏̇̃͌͒̿̃͂̄́̎̆͐̎̍̍͛͘͘͠͝a̴̢̨̨̧̡̡̧̛̛͇̟̲͎͎͚̣̤̫͈͍͓̠̲̲͙̱̩͙̲̮͈̯̫̹͙̝͇̬͚͇̩̮͙̖͍̥̦̣͌̄̐̋͐͗̃̃́̈̀̽͒̈́̀̅̍͆̉͌͊́̽̓̕̕̚͘͝͝͝͠ͅp̶̧̥͈͓̠̹̲͍͉̜̟͉̱̯͍͉̙͎̩̬̝̟̳͇͍̖̪̽͒͜ͅp̵̡̨̧̡̡̛̲̘̙̙̤̺̭̖̫̜͔̠͉̤͓̼͕̬̲̘̝̣͓̘̱̺̮̱̰̼̻͇̣̪͎̞̮̱͙͔̫͒̈́̔̋̐̓̏̔̃̃̾͌̀̋̋́̍̾́̊͛̒̈́̒̽́͌̔́̃̔̅̉̒̚͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͠͝ę̸̢̳̰̱̤͚̙̬̱̖̤̣̲̰͍̥̮̙̌͆̅̔̾̓̑̓̔̈́́͑̊͂̌͊̓̍͗́̎̀̈́͗̒̓͗̀̀̚͘͠͝ń̶̢̛̛͕̖̰͉̗̙̩̣͚͎͔̺̔̾̎̽̂̊̄̉̅͗͐̈́̀̊̉͘͝͝ȇ̷̢̢̡̡̬̲̗̺̻̼̮̹̯̟̻͈̠̥̥̫̖͙̖͉̠̼̘̝̹̙̳͖͍̝̫̝̝̮̱̙͈̱̰͔̪̲̓̽̕͘͜͝ͅd̸͓̥̭̥́͊̀͋̏̈̒̅̀̀́͋͗̈̍͆̐̒̂̒́̀́̂͌̍̌́̍̔͋̔̔̈́́͐͌̓̚̕͝. It felt weird talking to him – seeing him again after all these years. As if his face had changed throughout the years, but instead of the nature of the natural human process of aging, it felt– ơ̶̢͙̙͕͍̹͌͗͋͐̀̎͑̀͋̓̌̎̀̌̅̃̒͋͆̾̃̅̾̇͆͐̉̑̔̇̓̉͘͝͝͠͠͝͝t̴̨̛̘̮̦̫̮͉̙̪͕͎̟̆̒̃͑̓͐̌̑̏̆̆͌̅͊͑̿̇̎̎͘͘͜h̸̗̜̱͌̄͗̍̑̀̍̒e̴̛̱̣̳̰̭̟̱͙͔̼͕̭͖̠̣̣̙̙̘̰͈̗̮͈̲̹͖͔̻̣̪͖͆͆͋̓͑͂́̀͗̂̐̄̄̓͝͝ŗ̶̡̨̧̡̧̡̡̧̨͇̟̩̭̯̞̜͇͎̜̫̯̘͇̝͚͚̻̗͓̯̙̟͇̭̝͈̘̦̭̮̘̽͗͊͐͂̋͗̓̐̃̆̀̔̄͛̆͛̽͂̒͆̀̏̏͒͌̌̋̉͊̉͛͐̊́̈͂̀̎̈́̿̿̏̑͘̚̕͘͜͜w̵̡̧͈̼͇̘̭̪̱̻̼̭͙̠͉͙̥̩̳̭͈̼͆̈͂̍͂̉́͑̕͜͜ͅǫ̷̨̨̩̺̼̮̩̗͈̳̘͔̞͈̗̺̩̦̩͙̫̦̮̤̠̞̗͔̞̥̳̠͎͚͈̯̦͎̭̞̠̭̿͌̏̿͋͗̈́̒̓̏͆͋̉̇̉̆͊́̌̌̒̏͐̇̇̍̀̌̐͌̿́̃̅̚͘͘̕͜͜͜͠͠͝͠͝͠͝ͅŗ̸̨̡̧̛̼̰͔͉̻͖̗̞͎͙͓̙̞̦͙̻̰̳͔̱͈͌̎̈́̈̽̐̔͂͛͋͛̍͛̐́͛̋̄͊͂̑̃̓̋̍̇̏̈́͋̾̔̀̽̋̉̏͆̇͋̈̉͑̏̉͜͝͠ͅl̷̢̧̢̧̢̛̛̫̼͙͚̬̖̭̞̖̲̠̱͇̙̺̜͇̳̟̯͓̩͔̩͒̓̀̾̅͊̏͗̆̃̃͐̋̔͛͌̈̉̈͒͐̎̔̃̿̃̾̇̎̅͒͋̐̏̄̕̕̕͜͜͠͠͝d̷̛̑̿́͊͐̈́͆̇̕͠��̢̨̛͍͚̣̮̻̹͕̫͕̻̥͔̯̰͚̞̳̙͈̟͎͔̞̜̻̙̳̜̗̠̬̲͎̖̝̭͍̠͌̂͆̓̋̿̈́̐͛́͐̿̒́̐̕͘̕͜͜͝͝ļ̶̨̢̡̛̬͎̗͚̥͍̞͔̦̰̘̱̼̞̰̣̪͔͈͚͌̊̾̐̽̓͛̇̅̇͊̆́̃͛̄̂́̾̓̆͂͊̉̎̃͘̚͝y̴̨̢̡̗͉̭͔̳͎̜̩͓̱͉̬̱̬̗̗̮̬̥͕͕̺̹̻͇͒͗̔͗̀̃̓̅̀̀͗͆͑͗. Fuck, he sighed, his gaze fixed on the screen. He shifted his weight slightly, fingers tapping on the back of his phone. He felt uneasy, jumpy even; probably due to the lack of sleep from the night before. Isaiah rejected the call and decided to text him instead: 'Gonna call you back asap. Currently working.'

Two days later, after coming back from a long night of meeting up with his colleagues, having drinks, talking about manly things such as sports, monstertrucks and tits, Hunter was slightly drunk. Thus he had the same sensation all of us have, when we had one or fourteen drinks too many: He was hungry and in desperate need for something good. Eating in the kitchen, minding his business, he let his gaze wander until his eyes focused, locking upon familiar features at the end of the hallway. Violet was peeking at him from around the corner, only her eyes visible, wide open, almost unnatural looking, the rest of her body hidden behind the wall. Upon trying to focus and rubbing his eyes, she was gone. All he heard were fast footsteps stealing away from the hallway. It didn't sound like someone was running though, more like an animal fleeing from the intruder of their natural habitat. However, we know  the more our vision declines, the more frequently hallucinations occur. And I told you about how scientists were able to demonstrate that these hallucinations originate in the same brain regions where actual perceptions are processed – and not in the areas where images that arise from our imagination are created. This explains why so many people believe their hallucinations to be real – and yet, Hunter thought he was drunk and his mind played tricks on him. Speaking of your mind's playing tricks on you: Do those hear strange noises at night sometimes that keep you awake? Not the voices in your head, but your neighbors having the time of their lives, the police out and about on duty or the 826th party down the road? 

When nighttime brings unsettling sounds that make your heart race, the new earplugs from HUSH are your answer. Constructed with high-density memory foam, they effectively block out the eerie noises, letting you rest easy and help you fight your sleep paralysis demons easily. Ideal for those who are sensitive to sound, you'll find yourself sleeping through the night all safe and sound. Visit hush.com and use the promo code 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 for 15% off your first purchase. Thank you HUSH for sponsoring this episode and thank you for the countless nights you helped me sleep through.

Violet seemed off after that. She rarely spoke, sometimes it felt like she stared right through her husband. On other days, he caught her just staring at him. Smiling. As if she was daydreaming about something. Her smile felt uncanny, he told me, you know, like these AI generated pictures or– robots even! Upon asking her if she was alright, she always nodded her head and continued the things she was working on. There were nights Hunter laid awake at night, Violet missing from her side of the bed. Whereas to me that sounds like an open invitation to sleep in my favorite position of them all – the spread eagle – things wouldn't be half as unsettling if it wasn't for the noises. Again, fast footsteps, too fast for anything humanoid.

So we waited. I told Hunter it was fine with me if he caught up on some sleep and I'd keep vigil, to convince myself what was going on. I mean, if she was truly visiting him every night, indifferent to where he was staying, why should she stop now? The first two hours were rather uneventful. My trusty Switch was keeping me company, I had insanely good runs playing 'The Binding Of Isaac' – until I heard a noise. It sounded like a knock but– I mean, Hunter never told me that Violet seemed like the girl to knock per se. If she truly lost her mind and was out for– revenge? A night of fun? Why on earth would she knock? I checked the door, stood outside for a while, shining my flashlight into the very far corners of the property, gaze wandering from the vending machine, to every car in the lot, even to the adjacent rooms. Nothing. There was no one there. 

Heading back inside, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Hunter had told me Violet had watched him sleep from time to time, standing outside the window, her breath on the window, but even as I checked, still, no one's there. Getting back into the game and my trusty Switch, minutes passed until– 

Cutting the recording a second time, he listened more attentively to his surroundings. There was a rustle, but wasn't there something else? Was that a whisper? His phone buzzed again, recieving an answer from the same person who tried to call him earlier.  Ǐ̷̧̢̧͍̺͔̪̭͎̳̥͚̳̥̬͎͕̹̝̺̮̟̈̅̽͆͗̂̉̋̓̃́'̶̨̡̡̧̧̨̧̢̞͙̖̤̙̤̱̗̣̙͖̘͍͖͔̹̬̯̤̻͇͈͉̖̻̞̩͉͖̗̮̬͖̭͈̦̙̳̘̯̈́̀͆̀̐̉̓̅̓̅̓̔̄̈́͊͋͘̚ͅͅv̷̼͈̥̯̜͕͆̔̄̇͑̚e̷̢̡̩͖̣͇̯̮͎͖̼̲̤̯̜̠͓͕̝̤̬̜̤̥̺͎̗͙̮͈̅̉̈̔͆̏̔̃̍͛͑͆͌̌̇̌̃̿͌̋̓̊̓͊̋͒͋̋͑̾̑͐́̒̿̍͆͘͠͝ ̶̫̝̯̜̫̙̐̀f̸̨̨̨̢̨̳̟̖̻̙̖͓͍͕͓̣͔̞̩͉͔̫͎̭̼̜͇͎͙͇̳̤̝̩̻̝̩͖̜̖̯̩̩͆̏̍̀̀̑̅̀̌̋̉͛̄̈̀̃͗̐̈̌͋͒͐̅̀̒̕͘͝ͅǫ̶̢̢̡̧̛̛̫̞̞̖̯͇͚̭̮͖̈́͐̈́̊̏͆̈̋̃͐̎͛̏͌͆̆̀̇͌͛̐̌͋̉͑̿́̈́̚͘̚̚͘̕͝͠͝͠ͅu̷̧̧͙͚͚̟̞̜͖̲̦͈̠̘̥̳̠̜̻̮̙̳͊̾̔͆̾͌̄͗́̆͆͆̀͐͋̃͌͛̑͗̉͒͐̊͗̎͐̎̃̈́̔͐̌̄̽̃̂͒̾̐͑́̈́͘͘͜͠͠͠ņ̴̨̢̝̗̹͖̗̳̪̙̳̱̳̠̥̯̖͍͕̘̥̝̫̤̲̣̠̺̤́̈́̀̚͝͠d̷̢̨̡̨̘̜͉̙̖́͛̍̿̍̆̓̂̏̋͗̀̈́̈́̽̉̍̄͗̾͑͊̽̿́̒̔̋͑̀͐͆͒̌̋͐́̎̃̀̿̓̕̕͘͘̚͝͝ͅͅ ̸̧̢̣̝̞͕̪̫̤̯̣͕̯̖̹̩̬̥̪͉̮̺͇̥͓̼̼̙̫̠̌ͅͅͅͅÿ̷̛̪͍̾̎̋̇̎̆̂̿̔̈̍̐̉͛̂͆̽̈̒̈́͗̅̋́͊̈̄̐̚ö̴̞́̋̊̊̃̔̇̀͑̈́͋̏̔̾̓̀͐̃͛̄̾̏̾̉̉͋̊̒͂̈̽͛͋̑̕͘̕̕̕͝u̶̧̢̠̦̝̙̖̦̺͍̲̱͍̥̘̺̥͓̫̮̗͐͊̊͒̅̆̽̆̆̽́̋̇́̾͌̓̅̿́̉͒̉̽̎̉́̊͘͘̚͘͠.̵̛̛̛̭͓̂̍̿̅̽͊̎̿̍̈̅̑̀͋̐͆̇̇̅̇̋̂͊̀́̈͂̾̊͌̈́͆̅̄̍̔̕̚̚̕̚͝͠͝ ̸̢̧̨̧̯̠̖̯̟̳̳̩̪̦̮̲͕͉͕́͛̅̎̓͂̈̓̓̑͆̔̃̓́́͝ͅͅ:̸̧̢̡̢͍̠̹̳̗̣̱̳̻͎̩̪̫͎͕͇̭̱̥͍͚̦̞̯̩̭͓̠͙̉͐̍̋̽̒͐)̶̢̬̦͔̼͉̹̪̮̖̜̣̱̩̜̠̮̖̤͉̤̠͚̘̻̳͚̪͙̬͎̰͍͔̯̦̳̿̈͋͂̏̎̈́̾͑̈̓̏̓̓̋̀́̔͘͜͜͠͠ͅ

I heard a noise. Like an animal pacing, but it sounded uncomfortably close. There was nothing outside, I checked the room Hunter was sleeping in but there was nothing. When I turned around, I saw a set of widened eyes, peeking at me from the bottom of the doorframe from the hallway. The light was reflecting in her– its eyes, like a predator lurking in the shadows, ready to hunts its prey. A long strand of dark hair was falling across her forehead, she moved her head slightly, tilted it. As if she was irritated, yet amused by the sight of me. I mean, I've seen my fair share of weird shit and read a lot about the 'power of imagination', but I assure you: This ain't fucking it. Violet's head started to rise, she seemed to get up as I stood there frozen in the doorframe across the hallway. Her hair was moving with her. It took me some time to realize that she wasn't necessarily getting up, but instead she seemed to crawl on the wall, finally positioning herself at the upper edge of the doorframe. Her hair was now dangling, pointing towards the floor, her face more visible. That was the moment I realized what Hunter had meant with the uncanny smile. Violet's features seemed off, it reminded me of Alternates, her smile seemed forced, too wide, all of her teeth were showing. Her eyes wide, reflective, like a deer in headlights. Until she vanished.

Again: Fast footsteps. Then silence.

Hunter woke up from the noise. He asked me if I was alright, standing in the doorframe, too stunned to move. Frozen. That's when I saw her again, unblinking, reflective eyes and grinning wide. She saw him, knew he was there and that's all she needed to know. All she needed to see. He was her prey, I was an irrelevant obstacle and no greater threat. She was peeking at the both of us, focusing Hunter, scuttling slowly towards us on all fours, leaving her cranny from behind the kitchen counter. Her movement seemed otherwoldly, bending her joints and body parts inhumanly, putting her legs in front of her arms when she moved. Both of us must've thought that her smile couldn't get any wider, but we were mistaken. This was her definition of fun. And trust me when I say that it wasn't mine.  Violet stopped again, tilting her head to the side. 

Again: Fast footsteps as she approached us, grinning even wider. Until we shut the door. As we both pressed against it, all we could feel, in between fast breaths and paralyzed by fear, was the intense, loud banging against the door. Relentlessly hammering against the wood, trying to force her way in, we kept the door shut with all we had. For twenty-seven minutes. Again, fast footsteps. ⸻ Then silence.

  ©redits⸻ heavily inspired by this story (please read it, it's fantastic!) and ofc the final scenes of the masterpiece that is ari aster's »hereditary«)  

[morningday]

Cold Americano.

Part 2. Ice cubes in a cup.

Thomas motioned to come into the apartment. Empty, cold and lonely. The woman moved here a few months ago. The mortgage ties, the financial issues that needed to be addressed urgently. If she accumulates a lot of bills, the bank will take the apartment as payment. The man noticed it right away. If the trial starts, she won't be able to pay her debts. That's enough for the little snot-nosed girl to learn in her little brain where she shouldn't dig.

The Shelby brothers look at the interior of the room with interest. They think the woman who lives here is a creepy pedant obsessed with cleanliness and minimalism. There are no colors, no bright accents in the interior, not even pictures of the mistress. Clothes in the closet are hung by color, each jacket and sweater on its own hanger. The trash can is empty. There's only vegetables and sealed meat in the fridge.

Thomas didn't care what kind of underwear a woman wore. Its main purpose is to search for documents, checks and letters. Of course, he wants to wait for his mistress to come home and talk to her. But he also wants to walk away with physical evidence against his company. Moving from drawer to drawer, he finds nothing but shoe brushes, miscellaneous waste paper, and garbage. He frowns slightly when he comes across the trauma gun in the book. Arthur, Isaiah and John sat down on the gray sofa. Michael stared out the window for a long time, hiding in his thoughts. His lips are dry. And the eyes look lost. Thomas walks over and stands next to his nephew while he smokes a cigarette.

"Did you find anything?" the man asked. Cold blue eyes look at the young man. The boys face showed complete indifference and serenity.

"It seems that there were never any documents here and we are wasting our time", replies Michael, panting heavily. He's making eye contact with Thomas. Their silent dialogue is interrupted after a few seconds.

"Hey, Tommy, when's the mistress coming?" Arthur’s voice comes from the living room. Thomas silently pulls out his pocket watch: "There's half an hour left. I suggest you look harder. I feel the documents are in this house. Michael lights a cigarette and smiles slightly. He thinks the situation is absurd. The creepy gang from Small Heath, looking for papers in some girl's apartment. Tommy's got a plan that everyone's following, but Gray doesn't agree with it.

"Why look when you can settle everything in court?" the young man suddenly asked. Cigarette ash is falling on the gray parquet. Cigarette smoke is gonna be around for a long time. Shelby's smoking a cigarette and smoking it on a plate on the table.

"You can always make a deal, Michael." the last thing a man says before he leaves the kitchen.

The search for important documents was not successful. There were no clues as to where the papers might be. The mood of the conversation depended on the success of the mission and Thomas' mood. Around five, Michael got into his car without waiting for a negotiation.

Meanwhile, the woman was returning home. Her hands were occupied with a bag of groceries and a glass of unfinished Americano. The cool wind blew across her face, ruining her makeup. But even so, her mood was light. The guy held the door down when she walked into the apartment building. The woman politely smiled at him, ignoring the fact that she had seen him before. Michael puts his hand in the pocket of his coat, where the crushed evidence letters are.

She's climbing the stairs to the second floor. Besides her apartment, there were two other apartments next door. A married couple who fight all the time. But the one who lived in the third apartment had never seen a woman. It was strange that such a nice apartment in a quiet neighborhood disappears without a host. When the woman enters the apartment, she turns on the lights. The smell of tobacco immediately gets into your nose. She frowns as she walks into the kitchen. A cigarette was smoldering in the bowl, and her heart was beating faster. A bag and a cup of coffee fall from her hands as she collides with the male figure from behind. She a squeak before her mouth is covered with a rough palm.

"Hello, Y/N", he leans over to her ear. "I'll take my hand away, and we'll talk quietly, okay? No shouting."

[owlbelly]

okay the number of times i’ve been asked “is that a biblically-accurate angel” in the past 2 weeks (it’s tank top season) is getting to be a bit much

at first i just said “yep” & now i’m starting to get pedantic even though nobody wants to hear “WELL it’s not accurate to the Torah, just the later writings of the Prophets, specifically Ezekiel & Isaiah. so technically it’s a prophetically-accurate angel”

but Jey suggested “nah it’s a memorial tattoo for my Aunt Ethel. she was one badass bitch” so i might try that one next lmfaoooo

[townofcrosshollow]

Rating "Biblically Accurate" Angels on Biblical Accuracy

I joked about doing this a little while ago but I got pissed off about this again and now I'm going to make you suffer with me.

The biblically accurate angels trend was very fun for a second, because finally people are acknowledging the weird angels in the Bible! Hell yeah! And then it promptly stopped being fun. Cause holy shit, nobody bothers to actually research these things. And I am phenomenally pedantic.

So first of all, let's get this out of the way. What do the vast majority of angels look like according to the Bible?

JUST GUYS. REGULAR DUDES.

Verses like Hebrews 13:2 make it clear that to most people around the time(s) the Bible was written, God's messengers just looked like normal ass people. Some verses describe them looking like Cool Guys (Daniel 10:6), but often people have to be informed that the guys they're talking to are angels.

They're also described, like, hovering, and sometimes people can't see them. So that's cool too. But no mentions of wings.

But what about the fucking cool angels?! We're getting to them.

There are three types of divine creatures (?) apart from standard angels that get biblical descriptions. These are ophanim, cherubim, and seraphim. Everybody in the biblically accurate angels crowd apparently things cherubim are boring, so we're gonna focus on the wheely boys and the wingy boys. Also these memes are so common that I can't find actual sources for most of the art that's been spammed in the memes, sorry.

FIRST - THE WEIRD EYE WHEELS

oKAY, so our only description of these guys (?) is Ezekiel 1:15-21, in which they aren't actually described as being creatures or angels or sentient at all, but rather seem to be a part of God's throne. So scratch all of the sentience and saying "be not afraid" etc etc cause that's not canon.

5/10 - TOO MUCH WHEEL. WHY BABY?

The ophanim are only described as two wheels, not a bunch of them. The wheels also don't seem to move relative to each other at all, so this fun armillary sphere shit needs to go in the trash. Also, why is there a baby? On the plus side, they get points for having eyes on the wheels and no wings.

2/10 - WHY THE FUCK IS IT A MASHUP

Y'all, the six wings thing is a different angel for fuck's sake. Stop just adding six wings to everything and calling it biblically accurate. This one also suffers the opposite problem of the first, instead of too many wheels it's too few. Why only one wheel? Is he missing a wheel? And why are those floating eyeballs there?

AND NEXT- THE WINGY LADS

We actually have a couple of (conflicting) descriptions of these guys, so I'm gonna go with Isaiah 6:2 because fuck the book of Revelations. But if people add eyes to the wings, I'll give them a pass, because that is a valid interpretation.

2/10 - WHERE IS THE BOD?

Y'all, seraphim have bodies. They have faces. And feet/genitals (I choose to interpret the line about feet as being about genitals because it's both funnier and cooler looking). I demand to see this guy's feet.

The eyes, as I said, will get a pass, although I wouldn't describe those as being "full of eyes within." However, I count at least 5 pairs of wings, which is far too many.

1/10 - YOU HAVE TO BE FUCKING KIDDING

I know this is just a meme, but like, for fuck's sake. Where is this angel's body? Where are his feet???? Why does he have so many damn wings? Why is there a ball covered in eyes in the middle of him?

Honestly I'm just exhausted. Can we get a real angel again?

10/10 - JUST A GUY!

[queen-esther]

“Lilith isn’t even mentioned in the Bible” if you want to be really technical a creature called Lilith is mentioned in Isaiah 34:14, but it’s probably some mythical creature the Jews believed in, or just a bird. (I’m a pedant ok), but yes the whole “Lilith was Adam’ first wife” BS only was written down in the medieval period and had nothing to to with the Bible and especially not Christianity

Yeah, that’s not the same “Lilith” that secular feminists love to toss around.

[hotdemonsummer]

Obey Me! and Angelology and Demonology

 alternatively titled Lets Get Into Lucifer

This is yet another long, long post about the lore of Obey Me! from the perspective of historical and theological angelology, and demonology or the study of angels and demons respectively, because I think it’s neat. I also talk way too much. I’m scared to check the word count on this.

Disclaimer: I am not an expert on anything, and certainly not on religion. I just like comparative theology. Also, spoilers for lesson 43/44.

What is an angel? And what, in turn, is a demon? It depends on who you ask. All religions that have angels have a general consensus that they are spiritual beings, intermediaries of some kind of higher power. Demons, on the other hand, are much more vague beyond general malevolence toward humanity. Any connection between the two is entirely dependent on the culture and religion in question. Some have angels but not demons, and many have vice versa.

There’s generally four kinds of spirits that are considered demons:

Dead people with extremely bad vibes (think mogwai, yuurei, and other revenants)

Neutral-to-malevolent energy, physical form optional (think djinni or yokai)

Cult subjects (including foreign gods and ancestor worship)

Corrupted angels (either fallen or Nephilim)

The word demon comes from the Greek δαίμων, or daimon, but the concept of a demon is much older than the Greeks. The original daimon had none of the malevolent, evil associations that we now think of. Instead, daimon just described a kind of powerful spiritual entity (for example, δαίμων is the term Euripides uses for the new god Dionysus in The Bacchae). What we think of as demons now didn’t exist in Greek culture, and the negative associations came when the Tanakh was translated from Hebrew to Greek, but even then shedim aren’t identical to the contemporary depiction of demons that we see in Obey Me!, which, like everything else in Western society, came about through the domination of Christianity.

Shedim, the precursor to the Christian demon, was more or less a term for false gods, a title for the various Levantine pagan gods (see: origin of Beelzebub, Belphegor, and pretty much every demon that starts with Bel- or Bal-). 

Obey Me! pretty much canonizes Type 2 and Type 4 demons, with characters like Diavolo, Barbatos, and Satan as Type 2 and the other brothers as Type 4. Historically, Beelzebub and Belphegor are Type 3 (Beelzebub and Belphegor being Levantine gods), Mammon being Type 2 (a general personification of Wealth, although Milton did write him as a Type 4 in Paradise Lost) and Asmodeus being somewhere in between Type 2 and 3 (being heavily derived from a Zoroastrian daeva of wrath). Lucifer is, historically, the only consistently Type 4 demon.

I don’t think I have to explain what a fallen angel is to any OM! fan. But I will. 

Let’s talk about these guys. We’re all familiar with Satan’s weird complex about Lucifer, and I’m sure we’re all equally familiar with how Satan and Lucifer are terms used interchangeably for whatever being is The Big Bad of Hell. However, they’re not synonymous.

Satan derives from the same Proto-Semitic root as shayatan, which... should be pretty obvious, but nonetheless has a pretty analogous role as a tempter of men in the Abrahamic religions. Beyond that “tempter of men” title, though, the actual details of what Satan is is incredibly varied, including whether or not “Satan” is a name or a title. In Christianity, the view of Satan as an extremely powerful and evil corrupter of man, wholly opposed to God, came around the Middle Ages, when witchcraft hysteria spread.

Lucifer, on the other hand, is simultaneously a figure originating in Christianity and much, much older than it. The term of course means “light-bringer”, and is heavily associated with the morning star, aka the planet Venus. To make a very long story short, many Mesopotamian, Levantine, and Mediterranean cultures saw the lowering of Venus toward the horizon at night and thought, “hey, thats a pretty neat image!” and created stories about heavenly beings falling toward the earth. Of course, they didn’t use the ‘term’ Lucifer, that’s Latin, and came from the Vulgate Bible.

The term Lucifer does not exclusively refer to The Evil Fallen Angel™ in Christian texts (some very sacred things like the Exsultet explicitly refer to Jesus as Lucifer), but it sure is the most popular interpretation. In works like Paradise Lost or the Divine Comedy, the general idea is that the angel Lucifer rebelled against God in some way and was cast out of Heaven, then becoming Satan, and thus the two are one and the same.

(inb4 some Quora-type chews me out for accuracy’s sake, the “lucifer” mentioned in Isaiah 14:12 refers not to any angel, but to a Babylonian king. The whole fallen angel thing, much like the beatitudes or Bethlehem or Christmas, is a fusion of pagan influences.)

In other words, Lucifer is always and has always been a fallen angel. Satan, on the other hand, doesn’t have those connections to angelhood, and the two figures have an undeniable connection despite their clear individual differences. Sound familiar?

The next question is then what kind of angel is Lucifer anyway? to which you might be thinking, wait, there are different kinds? Yes, holy shit, there are so many kinds of angels and very little consensus on what they are. In terms of Christian angelology (because again, Lucifer is a uniquely Christian/derivative Christian figure unless you exclude Leland’s Aradia which I don’t because lbr they were Italian anyways), most hierarchies are based on the work of this guy:

This man has the incredibly succinct name of Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite, and sometime in the 5th century he wrote a book called De Coelesti Hierarchia. It orders the *WTNV voice* hierarchy of angels into three levels called spheres, and each sphere has three sub-levels called choirs. Many, but not all, of the choirs are adopted from various Jewish angelic hierarchies. If you thought that it was just angels and then archangels were, like, the middle management version of angels then you are very wrong. I’m sorry that television lied.

You know who also lied? Tumblr dot com and any post that implies that the true form of angels is a big wheel with a bunch of eyes. That is, in fact, a descriptor for only one kind of angel: ophanim, or thrones. The depiction of angels runs the gamut from winged humanoids to multi-winged humanoids with multiple animal heads to burning snakes to vague heavenly mist.

Archangels and angels are the eighth and ninth lowest choirs of angels, respectively. Angels, or malakhim, are the default messengers of God and the choir from which guardian angels come from. Generally, if someone claims to have a message from God delivered to them, it will be an angel doing it. If it’s really important, it’ll be an archangel. Everyone else literally has more important things to do. No one’s getting visions from dominions.

Lucifer’s (the theological one) actual designation is kind of a mystery. Depending on the text, Lucifer has been described as a seraph (the highest), a cherub (the second highest), or an archangel (the eighth). According to Thomas Aquinas:

Lucifer, chief of the sinning angels, was probably the highest of all the angels. But there are some who think that Lucifer was highest only among the rebel angels.

Not very helpful, but hey. The question remains: what kind of angel is Lucifer, and this time I mean our Lucifer. 

We know that Michael, just like his namesake, is an archangel. We also know that (SPOILERS) Simeon, unlike his namesake, is an archangel as well (Simeon is a saint, not an angel.) Lucifer likely was at their level, if not higher.

However, Lucifer was also a six-winged angel, a depiction generally reserved for seraphim (and cherubim, but far less frequently).

Moreover, in terms of role, an angellic Lucifer fits well with that of the powers, the sixth choir. Powers are in charge of moving the heavenly bodies, and are depicted as powerful warriors dressed in beautiful armor. It's fitting for a being so closely tied to the morning star to be a power, after all.

So, with all that considered, what is Lucifer? 

Well, he’s a seraph (or saraph, technically). Why? Because Simeon is somehow a seraph and an archangel (I have already written too much to unpack that bullshit), and Mammon was a throne (remember those wheels with eyes?) and Beel was a cherub and therefore Lucifer had to be higher than both of them (interestingly big brother Mammon is in a lower choir than little brother Beel). This makes Michael kind of, well... weird, given the archangels’ low rank.

Some like to differentiate between archangel the eighth choir and Archangel, with a capital A, as a term for any high-ranking angel. While this is likely what Solmare is doing, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that this has zero basis in any religious text whatsoever and is solely done for the convenience of not remembering anything besides angel and archangel. Which is like, fine, but I’m a pedantic jerk who I found claims to the contrary while researching and I felt the need to correct that.

Anyways, the more you know.

[deadpanwalking]

Hello, with your help I managed to finish War and Peace few years ago. If I want to understand more about the work, do you have a book of commentary or criticism of W&P that you like?

Oh man, I was literally just thinking about you.  This message makes me so happy!  Did I not say that you would be lost in the sauce once you finished?  Tolstoy was one of the first authors who made me aware of how important literary criticism can be to the way we enjoy literature. Some people believe it’s inherently pedantic and dilutes the intimacy between you and the text by overriding your impressions and telling you how to feel about it—but the very best kind isn’t just about benefitting from the insights of another’s scholarship to fill in the blanks, it’s about seeing something familiar through someone else’s eyes and falling in love all over again.

I think the best approach would be to get your hands on reasonably-priced used copies of the Norton Critical edition of War and Peace (the 2nd edition has something like 20 essays, including several reviews from Tolstoy’s contemporaries—plus relevant excerpts from his correspondence) and Bloom’s Modern Critical book on Tolstoy (which is more economical because it has all the essays from Bloom’s War and Peace edition, but also includes essays on Tolstoy’s other works, in case you get hungry later).  In the meantime, here’s an example of the kind of stuff that is excerpted:

 The Hedgehog and the Fox by Isaiah Berlin

“The Russian Point of View” by Virginia Woolf

Aspects of the Novel by E.M. Forster

Also, N.N. Strakhov, a critic and philosopher—who was not just Tolstoy's contemporary, but his close friend of many years—wrote a phenomenal review of War and Peace for a literary magazine called Zarya.  I can’t find it in my Drive, but I am sure there’s a translation on Project Gutenberg or something.  

[featherymalignancy]

Calling all my Lovelies: Help me pick out of a working title for my original WIP ♥️ 💫

IF YOU LOVE ME PLEASE READ TO THE END ♥️ 🍾 🤩

So as I prepare for NaNoWriMo, I am trying to find a good working title for my urban fantasy/angelic lore novel I’ve been working on, and I need y’all’s input on what I’ve come up with so far!

So first, a quick? synopsis: 

BEFORE: Samael, seal of perfection and perfect in beauty (Ezekiel 28:12), ruled at the right hand of Melek Taus, Lord of All. Samael served as the commander of the Watchers, the elite cadre of seven seraphim who upheld law and order in Heaven. However, as Melek Taus’s reign grew more tyrannical and Their tastes more cruel, the seeds of dissent began taking root in Samael’s heart. 

When Melek Taus announced plans to breed a race purely for angelic sport, Samael was spurred to action. Gathering their supporters, Samael waged a war to halt the creation of the newly-named “Mortal” race and win the rule of the Heavens away from Melek Taus. Betrayed by some of those closest to them, Samael’s rebellion failed, and as punishment Melek Taus banished them from Paradise and gave Samael the task of punishing the mortals--who Samael had sacrificed so much to spare from the pain of existence--when the mortals committed evil.

Quickly bored with this game in which They’d trapped Samael, Melek Taus suggested another to Samael instead: wagers against human souls. Samael, who had the freedom to roam both the underworld and the mortal realm, would tempt humans to commit foul acts. If they won and the mortal succumbed, Samael would win their way a little closer to the pearly gates. Back and forth betting on the power of human goodness, Melek Taus and Samael played their game for centuries to increasingly high stakes (I mean...Hilter, anyone??) And so it went for millennia...

NOW: Jake Meada is a lost soul. Plagued by depression and personal tragedy, we first meet him on a crowded bridge in Belgium, preparing to kill himself by jumping. However, he’s halted by an “apparition” of his late mother, and when he seeks to follow her and get answers, he runs into a mysterious stranger instead, an intoxicatingly beautiful woman who calls herself “Sam”. Difficult as it is for Jake to believe, Sam reveals herself** to be the fallen angel Samael, and insists she needs Jake’s help to break Melek Taus’s chains on the fate of mortal kind. She reveals she’s placed a wager on Jake’s soul, and soon the other Watchers, now lead by the cold and pedantic Mikha’il, will soon come in an attempt to protect Melek Taus’s power at any cost, including that of the human race. 

As Jake tries to come to grips with the cosmic role he’s been thrust into, he also begin to wonder if he can trust Sam at all. After all, the devil doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns; (s)he comes dressed as everything you’ve ever wished for...

**if you’re wondering about gender identity and pronouns as it relates to the angels in particular, I can assure you it’s addressed. I won’t get into the specifics in this post, but basically—gender is a construct (I mean we all know this anyways. Also fuck you JK Rowling 🙃🖕🏼🙃🖕🏼🙃🖕🏼)

oKAY SO. 

If you read my fics you know that I love titles which are literary allusions.. For instance, Like a Lonely House and Tender Jar are both allusions to Pablo Neruda poems.

“so I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Till then my windows ache.” Pablo Neruda, Sonnet LXV

“Like a jar you housed the infinite tenderness, and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar.“ Pablo Neruda, The Song of Despair

SO FOR MY WIP, I REALLY WANT A BIBLICAL ALLUSION AS MY TITLE. 

Originally I thought to borrow from the Lord’s Prayer, and I was calling the WIP Thy Kingdom Come, as in “Thy Kingdom Come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven.”

HOWEVER...

It started to feel a bit on the nose, a feeling which was seemingly confirmed when I stumbled across another angelic WIP with nearly the same title, making me gag and then realize, “ugh that is basic AF, I need to step my game up.”

SO

I have come up with some titles based on bible quotes, I would love for people to weigh in on which you like (or don’t)

Lay Low The Nations 

“How you have fallen from heaven, morning star, son of the dawn! You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations.” 

Isaiah 14:12

The Beast That Cometh

“And when they shall have finished their testimony, the beast that cometh up out of the abyss shall make war with them, and overcome them, and kill them“

-Revelation 11:7

Know Not the Hour

“Heaven and earth shall pass away...But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father“

-Matthew 24:35-36

Every Eye Shall See or And The Earth Shall Wail

“Behold, he is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see him, even those who pierced him, and all tribes of the earth will wail.”

-Revelation 1:7

Please let me know what you think about the titles (or the story in general)

LOVE YOU ALL, as always, your support means the WORLD to me ♥️ ♥️

[willowfm]

heeeeeey  again  besties  !!  it’s  your  favorite  icon  hailey  coming  at  you  with  another  dumpster  fire  .  their  name  is  willow  and  they’re  a  mix  between  a  vodka  aunt  and  stoner  cousin  who’s  an  actual  mom  !!  i  stg  if  one  of  you  says  ‘  step  on  me  ’  .  

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊.  𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

( zoe kravitz, nonbinary, they/she, aquarius, 29 ) i spotted willow russell at the beach today. don’t you know them? they live down by the rocks and usually hang out with the skaters & families clique. from what i’ve heard, they can be destructive, but they’re also passionate. i always think of them when i hear cherry bomb - the runaways and tend to associate them with scarlet red lips,  70s  band tees, & the bitterness of black coffee  .

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒊. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 

willow dawn russell

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞(𝐬) 

will & lola

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 

february 14th

𝐚𝐠𝐞 

twenty - nine ( 29 )

𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 

five foot two inches ( 5′2″ )

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 

nonbinary

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 

they / them / theirs & she / her / hers

𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧(𝐬) 

owner of the rocks skate park

manager at victoria’s 

𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞(𝐬) 

english & spanish

𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 

pansexual & panromantic

𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦

zoe kravitz

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒊𝒊. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐳𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 

aquarius sun, scorpio rising, & cancer moon

𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 

chaotic good

𝐦𝐛𝐭𝐢 

estj-t

𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 

type 3w2 ( the achiever )

𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 

choleric-phlegmatic

𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 

gryffindor 

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬

how they love others - acts of service, words of affirmation, & physical touch

how they need to be loved - quality time & physical touch

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨

princess carolyn ( bojack horseman ) , allison hargreeves ( umbrella academy ) , fiona gallagher ( shameless ) , steven hyde ( that 70s show ) , regina mills ( once upon a time )

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒗. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲

triggers  (  these  are  all  the  triggers  as  they  appear  throughout  ,  they  will  be  tagged  accordingly  )  :  abuse  tw  ,  assault  &  abuse  tw  ,  fire  tw  ,  death  tw  ,  pregnancy  tw  ,  pregnancy  tw  ,  assault  &  death  tw  ,  death  mention

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. 

born  in  the  supposed  “  rough  side  of  town  ”  ,  willow  was  born  into  a  somewhat  nuclear  family  ,  two  present  parents  ,  a  younger  sister  ,  and  all  the  love  that  a  child  could  ask  for  .

her  parents  kristen  and  isaiah  were  your  typical  sunhollow  couple  ,  high  school  sweethearts  ,  and  madly  in  love  .  isaiah  being  the  laid  back  stoner  type  and  kristen  being  your  stereotypical  type  a  suburban  mom  .

isaiah  was  the  more  laid  back  of  the  pair  ,  being  the  sole  owner  of  the  rocks  skate  park  ( where  he  acted  as  a  father  figure  for  anyone  who  set  foot  on  the  ramps  )  ,  and  coming  from  a  less  than  glamorous  childhood  himself  ,  believed  in  giving  your  children  space  to  grow  and  adapt  into  their  own  person  .  

their  mother  kristen  ,  on  the  other  hand  the  first  to  bring  over  fresh  baked  goods  and  homemade  casseroles  to  the  new  neighbors  ,  heavily  involved  in  the  pta  ,  and  the  most  visible  parents  at  any  school  function  geared  towards  their  kids  .

it  was  almost  stifling  how  much  the  kristen  was  involved  in  their  children’s  lives  ,  always  on  top  of  their  grades  ,  their  extracurricular  involvement  ,  essentially  any  aspect  of  their  children’s  lives  that  she  could  control  they  took  the  liberty  in  doing  so  .

though  that’s  not  to  say  that  she  wasn’t  concerned  with  how  her  children  felt  ,  more  so  that  she  was  convinced  their  way  was  the  right  way  .

the  russells  balanced  each  other  out  perfectly  ,  and  it  continued  to  be  that  way  for  as  long  as  willow  could  remember  it  .

a  rather  well  behaved  child  ,  willow  tried  their  absolute  best  to  fly  under  their  mother’s  radar  ,  which  is  extremely  difficult  when  you’re  the  eldest  daughter  of  only  two  .  so  willow  subsequently  felt  a  lot  of  the  pressure  of  her  mother  from  a  young  age  .

due  to  her  mother’s  overbearing  nature  willow  naturally  gravitated  towards  being  a  daddy’s  girl  .  spending  any  and  all  free  time  she  could  with  him  and  from  the  minute  she  was  old  enough  to  walk  he  taught  her  how  to  skate  ,  something  that  became  a  bonding  experience  for  both  of  them  ,  as  she  got  better  and  better  ,  their  bond  grew  stronger  and  stronger  .

rain  or  shine  ,  there  wasn’t  a  single  day  that  willow  didn’t  spend  with  her  father  .  everyone  in  the  rocks  joked  that  she  was  a  derivative  of  him  ,  a  spitting  image  if  anyone  had  ever  seen  one  .

and  as  willow  grew  up  things  became  no  different  .

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞. 

high  school  came  around  and  willow  got  two  extremely  different  notions  from  their  parents  .  their  mother  wanted  her  to  buckle  down  and  focus  on  choosing  a  sensible  career  ,  while  their  father  wanted  her  to  follow  their  passions  in  the  same  vein  that  he  did  (  his  being  a  now  infamous  band  ,  at  least  to  willow  )

willow  tried  their  best  to  maintain  a  balance  of  both  extracurriculars  that  appeased  their  mother  ,  and  free  time  spent  with  their  father  at  the  skate  park  ,  helping  him  out  with  general  upkeep  and  sharpening  their  skills  whenever  possible  .

during  one  of  daily  trips  to  the  ramps  ,  she  happened  to  notice  someone  she’d  never  seen  before  ,  call  it  love  at  first  sight  ,  or  just  teenage  hormones  ,  but  suddenly  willow  had  a  new  goal  in  mind  .

it  didn’t  take  long  before  they  also  caught  his  attention  ,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  that  they  were  measurably  a  hundred  times  better  than  he  was  on  the  ramps  ,  and  soon  enough  a  relationship  formed  .

for  once  willow  didn’t  care  much  about  their  mother’s  pedantic  tendencies  or  their  father’s  disapproval  of  the  boy  that  she’d  chose  ,  they  were  in  love  ,  and  no  one  could  tell  them  otherwise  .

ABUSE TW  this  was  until  their  boyfriend  proved  to  be  more  controlling  than  thier  mother  .  she  could  hardly  go  to  the  ramps  ,  all  her  free  time  was  spent  with  him  rather  than  her  father  ,  and  if  they  ever  dared  challenge  him  things  go  physical  .

they  were  all  apperances  in  public  ,  and  to  their  parents  ,  holding  hands  in  the  hallways  and  him  slipping  them  handwritten  love  letters  ,  but  things  only  continued  to  escalate  as  their  relationship  continue  further  .

ASSAULT & ABUSE TW  the  final  straw  was  when  he  threatened  them  with  a  knife  to  their  throat  due  to  them  choosing  to  spend  time  with  their  father  instead  of  sit  in  on  his  band  practice  without  alerting  him  .  it  was  then  they  realized  they  never  wanted  to  fear  someone  like  that  again  .

finally  gathering  the  courage  to  share  with  their  father  what  was  happening  behind  the  scenes  ,  they  successfully  managed  to  break  things  off  ,  and  although  they  had  escaped  their  situation  ,  that  relationship  had  lasting  impacts  on  how  they  viewed  love  .

they  clung  to  security  after  this  ,  constantly  attached  to  the  hip  of  their  father  ,  worried  about  what  the  return  of  their  ex  lover  might  look  like  .  thankfully  this  fear  never  came  to  fruition  ,  though  it  still  hauntingly  lingers  to  this  day  .

they  successfully  graduated  high  school  ,  and  with  heavy  influence  from  their  mother  enrolled  in  sunhollow  for  a  degree  in  journalism  .  and  the  minute  they  stepped  foot  on  the  sunhollow  campus  and  swore  not  to  fall  in  love  ,  that’s  exactly  what  they  did  .

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡. 

he  was  nothing  like  her  last  boyfriend  all  sweet  words  and  gentle  hands  that  knew  exactly  the  spots  to  kiss  to  make  her  feel  whole  again  .

the  whiplash  that  came  from  going  to  a  super  toxic  relationship  to  one  where  he  was  extremely  loving  and  gentle  was  something  that  willow  had  to  slowly  become  accustomed  to  .

she  spent  her  days  with  him  in  the  library  ,  hushed  giggles  and  hand  holding  ,  and  her  nights  commuting  back  to  the  rocks  to  help  out  her  family  with  her  job  that  she  got  at  victoria’s  .

though  journalism  wasn’t  exactly  her  main  passion  ,  there  were  plenty  of  opportunities  to  get  involved  with  things  that  were  .  enter  the  band  her  and  her  boyfriend

they  were  nothing  to  write  home  about  ,  they  were  good  in  a  local  dive  bars  ,  but  they  definitely  weren’t  going  to  be  selling  out  stadiums  any  time  soon  ,  and  honestly  they  preferred  it  that  way  .

this  was  her  college  experience  ,  playing  shows  at  victoria’s  ,  splitting  time  between  her  boyfriend  and  her  family  ,  and  working  her  way  towards  completing  her  bachelor’s  degree  .

she  even  saved  up  enough  money  with  her  boyfriend  to  afford  a  moderately  sized  condo  in  the  rocks  close  to  her  childhood  home  .  this  condo  would  also  become  the  place  where  he  ended  up  proposing  the  idea  of  getting  eloped  .  he  was  convinced  they  didn’t  need  a  ceremony  only  each  other  .

the  day  she  walked  the  stage  with  her  husband  was  one  of  the  proudest  moments  of  her  life  ,  but  soon  enough  it  would  devolve  into  the  worst  .

FIRE TW  clamors  of  a  house  fire  in  the  rocks  ,  prompting  an  early  departure  from  both  willow  and  her  husband  who  drove  home  to  see  willow’s  childhood  home  in  flames  .

DEATH TW  by  the  time  that  help  had  arrived  ,  it  was  too  late  ,  both  her  parents  had  been  consumed  by  the  flames  ,  childhood  memories  had  been  destroyed  ,  and  willow  yet  again  felt  broken  .

the  only  family  that  remained  was  her  ,  her  sister  ,  and  her  husband  .  and  willow  took  every  opportunity  to  step  up  to  the  plate  and  provide  her  sister  whatever  she  could  within  her  means  .

willow  decided  to  put  her  journalism  degree  to  work  to  honor  her  parents  and  wrote  for  the  local  newspaper  ,  bringing  light  to  social  issues  at  the  rocks  ,  and  local  news  going  on  within  the  community  from  any  side  of  town  .  but  she  also  had  the  job  of  maintaining  the  skate  park  her  father  left  for  her  ,  and  part  -  time  shifts  at  victoria’s  ,  a  job  that  gave  her  some  semblance  of  normalcy  .

four  years  seemed  to  pass  willow  by  without  seemingly  anything  interesting  happening  ,  life  seemed  to  finally  calm  down  .

PREGNANCY TW  but  soon  enough  after  weeks  of  getting  sick  after  rehearsal ( her  college  bad  reuniting  to  play  victoria’s  on  sunday  nights )  ,  and  waking  up  nauseated  ,  willow  realized  she  might  have  idea  of  what  was  going  on  .  three  pregnancy  tests  later  she  was  staring  down  at  a  pink  plus  sign  with  tears  in  her  eyes  . 

they  were  more  than  happy  to  finally  settle  down  and  seriously  consider  having  a  family  ,  something  that  willow  had  always  craved  .

and  the  minute  that  life  got  better  again  it  go  exponentially  worse  .

PREGNANCY TW  about  a  month  before  her  twenty  -  fifth  birthday  ,  willow  gave  birth  to  twin  girls  which  she  named  iris  and  imani  ,  and  the  second  time  she  ever  held  them  in  her  arms  she  received  life  altering  news  .

ASSAULT & DEATH TW  while  on  his  way  to  the  hospital  ,  her  husband  was  mugged  ,  an  assault  which  ultimately  lead  to  his  death  .

once  again  willow  was  left  to  pick  up  the  pieces  of  losing  someone  important  to  her  ,  and  as  it  stood  she  had  four  people  who  needed  her  ,  the  most  important  two  being  the  infants  bundled  in  her  arms  in  that  moment  .

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

that  was  four  years  ago  now  and  iris  and  imani  have  been  their  main  priority  ever  since  .

DEATH MENTION  since  the  passing  of  her  husband  ,  she  realized  that  couldn’t  keep  living  her  life  for  other  people  ,  and  so  she  quit  her  job  at  the  paper  ,  picked  up  more  shifts  at  victoria’s (  even  worked  her  way  up  to  being  a  manager  )  ,  and  took  over  her  dad’s  place  at  the  skate  park  .

similar  to  her  dad  ,  anyone  who  steps  foot  on  the  ramps  is  by  proxy  her  child  ,  and  that’s  no  joke  ,  she  will  never  forget  a  face  and  she  will  get  to  know  everything  about  you  ,  she  believes  in  taking  care  of  the  people  who  keep  her  dad’s  legacy  alive  .

the  best  way  that  i  can  describe  her  personality  is  abrasive  ,  extremely  rough  around  the  edges  ,  and  she  is  not  one  to  let  people  in  easily  anymore  .  unless  of  course  she  considers  you  family  ,  then  she  is  by  your  side  until  the  end  of  time  .

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒗. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 

navy blue 

𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 

thunderstorms are her favorite for some reason she finds an odd comfort in them

𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐲 

she tends to work a lot of nights so her favorite time of day is dusk, the moon is just coming up, and her day feels like it’s just getting started

𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥(𝐬) 

foxes

𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐣𝐢𝐬

😈😎🤔😘😴🥵😜💋

𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲

𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 

kristen russell ; deceased

𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 

isaiah russell ; deceased

𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬)

wanted connection ; sister

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧

iris russell ( 4 years old )

aquarius sun, libra rising, & aquarius moon

imani russell ( 4 years old )

aquarius sun, libra rising, & aquarius moon

𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞

𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 

degree  in  journalism  from  sunhollow  university

𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐬 

n/a

𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬 

writing  ,  skateboarding  ,  surfing  ,  yoga  ,  cooking  ,  singing  ,  running  ,  photography  ,  traveling  ,  and  playing  bass  .

𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 

small  two  bedroom  home  that  is  just  big  enough  for  all  of  their  and  their  daughter’s  belongings  .

𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 

between  maintaining  the  skatepark  during  the  day  ,  working  nights  at  victoria’s  ,  and  raising  twin  girls  ,  willow  doesn’t  see  a  lot  of  sleep  but  she  takes  what  she  can  get  .

𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬

willow  survives  a  lot  on  take  -  out  and  vending  machine  snacks  ,  but  the  days  she  does  have  she  makes  sure  to  cook  recipes  handed  down  to  her  from  her  mother  .

𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

70s  band  tee  shirts  and  high  waisted  denim  ,  burnt  orange  and  olive  green  paisley  ,  psychedelic  rock,  ginger  and  lime,  loves  post  -  apocalyptic  sci-fi  and  films  ,  scarlet  red  painted  lips ,  insatiable  wanderlust,  muddy  doc-martins  and  goofy  thrift-store  sweaters  ,  feels  soothed  by  the  sound  of  thunder  ,  fluorescent  drug  store  signs  reflected  in  parking  lot  puddles  ,  angsty  conversations  on  rooftops  .

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒗𝒊.  𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

uhhhh  so  i  have  wasted  all  my  brain  power  on  this  so  i  have  no  suggestions  i  can  come  up  with  at  the  moment  !  but  listen  feel  free  to  message  me  so  we  can  brain  storm  some  plot  ideas  i  promise  i  will  scream  and  cry  over  !

[pynkhues]

just realised that sadie and kenny are actually supposed to be around the same age?? i thought for sure sadie was like 2-3 years older!! but in s1 sadie is "almost 12" and kenny has his 11th bday, so they're like a year apart 0.0 what do you think of them making them have such different maturity levels at the same age? do you think it was a plot hole or that it was done on purpose to illustrate how different annie and beth are as parents? also how do you think that came to be in universe?

continuation of sorts: beth and annie seem to be around 8-11 years apart (i suck at guessing ages). sadie was born when annie was 17. so this means annie was around 28-29 in s1 and beth and ruby were 36-40 (i'm leaning heavily towards 40). what's your opinion on them deciding to cast actresses older than their characters? hollywood tends to cast younger (unless it's teens lol), so it must be done on purpose / they must be aware of it (i'm not complaining ofc, i love them, i'm just curious)

Yeah, the character ages are a mess, particularly the kids’ haha. I talked about it a bit in this post, but I do wonder if they actually aged Sadie up during The Great Boland Kid Reshuffle in s2? I think especially since Isaiah is older (he just turned 15!) than Braxton too (who just turned 13!) and really looks it, it’s all the more jarring.

It certainly could be an indication of Annie and Beth as parents though - particularly in the sense of Sadie having had to take on greater responsibilities at home both because of how much Annie works, but also in the sense of Annie being such a young mother and fairly irresponsible generally, while Beth is so pedantic and a mollycoddler (to put it lightly, haha). 

I’ve done quite a bit of speculating about their ages generally (I’d recommend checking out my ‘timelines’ tag!) but I think you’re right - I’d put Beth and Ruby at roughly eight or nine years older than Annie too. As for why they cast older actresses, I’m not sure! We know that Jenna wrote the role of Ruby specifically for Retta, so in that sense, it must have been a fairly conscious choice. It could be a direct way of objecting to Hollywood phasing out older actresses, or gosh, maybe that was just the story Jenna wanted to tell, and she just knew what actresses she wanted for the roles and didn’t really care? (After all, even though Kathleen Rose Perkins was the first Beth, we know that Christina was still the first choice and had turned the role down initially). 

It is really interesting though! I so badly wish we got more behind the scenes interviews so that we could, y’know, get actual answers on this sort of thing, haha.

[laliberty]

In the Spanish language, no exact match exists for the English word freedom; thus freedom and liberty are used interchangeably.

When asked for the Spanish word for “freedom,” the inevitable answer is libertad. But libertad is the translation for “liberty.” In fact, there is no word for “freedom” in Spanish, and libertad is used for both liberty and freedom.

For most of us the terms are synonymous. However, political scientists and philosophers attach different connotations to the terms liberty and freedom. For me, this presented a challenge when writing studiously of freedom in Spanish without a word for freedom. In 2010, Dr. Eugenio Yañez, who was then translating my book “Mañana in Cuba,” ingeniously came up with the idea of distinguishing the terms by capitalizing Libertad when my intended meaning was freedom, and using lower case libertad for liberty.

Similarly, socio-cultural anthropologist Roland Alum, brought to my attention that, in Spanish we do not have a distinct word for toes, we have only the term “dedos.” This forces the cumbersome construction of “dedos de los pies” for toes, which translates literally to “fingers of the feet.”

Technically, freedom is a more general concept that may be defined as “the power or right to act, speak, or think, as one wants.” Freedom is a subjective and personal state of affairs. In contrast, liberty is more associated with an individual’s connection to the state. Liberty is a collective state of affairs rather than a personal one. Liberty may be defined as “the state of being free from oppressive restrictions imposed by authority on ones behavior or political views.” We demand liberty so that we can exercise our freedoms.

Then, to complicate or clarify things (depending on your disposition), social psychologist Erich Fromm, in The Fear of Freedom (1941), and political theorist Isaiah Berlin, in Two Concepts of Liberty (1958), introduced an important distinction between negative and positive freedom. Negative freedom is understood as freedom ‘from’ interference by other people. In a political context, negative freedom refers to freedom from institutional oppression.

Positive freedom is understood as freedom “to” and refers mostly to our being free to develop our potential. Once we are free from oppression, then we have the positive freedom to pursue our own dreams and goals.

By now my patient readers must be ready to give up on this pedantic academic discussion, so let me get to the point. In the Spanish speaking world, liberty is conceived mostly in the negative sense. Liberty is conceived as political freedoms such as freedom of assembly, the press, religion, speech, thought, etc. It is in this limited concept of free from oppression that libertad is normally used in political discourse.

And here is a bizarre psycholinguistic theory to the effect that maybe, the fact that there is no specific Spanish word for freedom contributes to a rather constrained understanding of individual freedoms in Spanish speaking nations.

[skitours]

Pronunciation orthography

We cannot preserve exactly either the sounds they uttered, or the phrases they spoke, or the names of places and offices familiar to them. Why then need we be curious to spell their names as their contemporaries did, when we have altered all else — pronunciation, orthography, titles, and indeed the entire outer form of the language? The precision for which we vainly strive in the spelling of names is after all a makeshift, very imperfectly observed by any one, and entirely neglected by others. And it has the defect of ignoring a long and suggestive unity in history, language, and common civilisation.

It may be true that the contemporaries of ‘ Edward the Elder,’ ‘ Edward the Martyr,’ and ‘ Edward the Confessor ’ spelt the name Eadward, or Eadiveard, if they wrote in English; though they did not uniformly do so when they wrote it in Latin. But did the ‘ Edwards ’ of Plantagenet so spell their name; or ‘ Edward ’ Tudor; and will ‘ Edward the Seventh ’ so spell his name? And is Alfred, a name to conjure with wherever the English speech is heard, to be severed from the great king? ‘Alfred’ is a familiar name just as ‘ king ’ is a familiar title; and it is as pedantic to insist on archaic forms of the name as it would be to insist on the Saxon form of the office. Since Edward was not called by his contemporaries either ‘ King ’ or ‘ The Elder,’ what do we gain by such a hybrid phrase as ‘ King Eadweard the Elder ’?

It is only a half-hearted realism which writes—‘Eadweard was now King of all England.’ It should run: — ‘ Eadweard was now Cyning of all Engla-land.’ It is quite correct to write in modern English: — ‘ King Edward marched from London to York.’ Here, the proper names are all alike adapted to our vernacular. It is an anachronism, or an anarchaism, to write—‘ King Eadweard marched from London to York sightseeing turkey.’ It ought to run, if we are bent on writing pure old English, ‘ Eadweard Cyning marched from Lundenbyryg to Eofonvic.’

Ethelberht

That is the real couleur locale; but the general reader could hardly stand many pages of this. It is not true in fact that ‘ Ethelberht lived at Canterbury.’ He lived at ‘ Cant-wara-byryg.’ Ethelbert, however, may properly be said to have lived at Canterbury. For thirteen centuries Canterbury and *York have been famous centres of our English life. Except in a parenthesis, or in a monograph, it would be a nuisance to mention them under the cumbrous disguises of ‘ Eoforzvtc ’ and Cant-wara-byryg’; and for precisely the same reason it is a nuisance to read, Elfred, Ecgberht, and Eadweard.

Where is it going to stop? Ours is an age of archaeology, revival, and research; and in no field is research more active than in Biblical and other Oriental history. The grand familiar names, which have had a charm for us from childhood, which have kindled the veneration of a long roll of centuries, are all being ‘ restored ’ to satisfy an antiquarian purism. We shall soon be invited to call Moses, Mosheh, as his contemporaries did. Judah should be written Yehhda; Jacob will be Yaaqob. Our old friend Job will appear, clothed and in his right mind, as Iyob. The prophet Elijah is Eliyaku; and the prophet Isaiah is now metamorphosed into Yeshayahu. Imagine how our descendants will have to rewrite the lines: —

And the teacher will have to explain to our grandchildren that ‘ Isaiah ’ is an old vulgarism for Yeshayahu. ‘Jerusalem the Golden ’ will appear in the children’s hymns as Yerlishalaim; and when we speak of the walls of Jericho we must sneeze, and say J’reclio. We must say — the Proverbs of Shclomoh. But this is not the end of it. The very names in men’s prayers and devotions must be reformed. Catholics must learn to say their Aves to ‘Mariam ‘; and the Protestant must meditate on the ‘ Blood of Jehoshual

The historical mind will so have it. It has laid down a rigid canon that, proper names should be spelt in the form in which their contemporaries wrote them. And if Alfred, a name which for so many centuries has been a watchword to the English race, is to be ‘ restored ’ into Ailfred, because he and his so spoke it and wrote it; by the same rule must we speak and write of Jehoshua of Nazareth, using the same letters in which the Scribes and Pharisees of his day recorded the name in official Hebrew. The historical mind has said it; and English literature, custom, the vernacular speech, poetry, patriotism, and devotion must all give way.

[airlineticketsbg]

Pronunciation orthography

We cannot preserve exactly either the sounds they uttered, or the phrases they spoke, or the names of places and offices familiar to them. Why then need we be curious to spell their names as their contemporaries did, when we have altered all else — pronunciation, orthography, titles, and indeed the entire outer form of the language? The precision for which we vainly strive in the spelling of names is after all a makeshift, very imperfectly observed by any one, and entirely neglected by others. And it has the defect of ignoring a long and suggestive unity in history, language, and common civilisation.

It may be true that the contemporaries of ‘ Edward the Elder,’ ‘ Edward the Martyr,’ and ‘ Edward the Confessor ’ spelt the name Eadward, or Eadiveard, if they wrote in English; though they did not uniformly do so when they wrote it in Latin. But did the ‘ Edwards ’ of Plantagenet so spell their name; or ‘ Edward ’ Tudor; and will ‘ Edward the Seventh ’ so spell his name? And is Alfred, a name to conjure with wherever the English speech is heard, to be severed from the great king? ‘Alfred’ is a familiar name just as ‘ king ’ is a familiar title; and it is as pedantic to insist on archaic forms of the name as it would be to insist on the Saxon form of the office. Since Edward was not called by his contemporaries either ‘ King ’ or ‘ The Elder,’ what do we gain by such a hybrid phrase as ‘ King Eadweard the Elder ’?

It is only a half-hearted realism which writes—‘Eadweard was now King of all England.’ It should run: — ‘ Eadweard was now Cyning of all Engla-land.’ It is quite correct to write in modern English: — ‘ King Edward marched from London to York.’ Here, the proper names are all alike adapted to our vernacular. It is an anachronism, or an anarchaism, to write—‘ King Eadweard marched from London to York sightseeing turkey.’ It ought to run, if we are bent on writing pure old English, ‘ Eadweard Cyning marched from Lundenbyryg to Eofonvic.’

Ethelberht

That is the real couleur locale; but the general reader could hardly stand many pages of this. It is not true in fact that ‘ Ethelberht lived at Canterbury.’ He lived at ‘ Cant-wara-byryg.’ Ethelbert, however, may properly be said to have lived at Canterbury. For thirteen centuries Canterbury and *York have been famous centres of our English life. Except in a parenthesis, or in a monograph, it would be a nuisance to mention them under the cumbrous disguises of ‘ Eoforzvtc ’ and Cant-wara-byryg’; and for precisely the same reason it is a nuisance to read, Elfred, Ecgberht, and Eadweard.

Where is it going to stop? Ours is an age of archaeology, revival, and research; and in no field is research more active than in Biblical and other Oriental history. The grand familiar names, which have had a charm for us from childhood, which have kindled the veneration of a long roll of centuries, are all being ‘ restored ’ to satisfy an antiquarian purism. We shall soon be invited to call Moses, Mosheh, as his contemporaries did. Judah should be written Yehhda; Jacob will be Yaaqob. Our old friend Job will appear, clothed and in his right mind, as Iyob. The prophet Elijah is Eliyaku; and the prophet Isaiah is now metamorphosed into Yeshayahu. Imagine how our descendants will have to rewrite the lines: —

And the teacher will have to explain to our grandchildren that ‘ Isaiah ’ is an old vulgarism for Yeshayahu. ‘Jerusalem the Golden ’ will appear in the children’s hymns as Yerlishalaim; and when we speak of the walls of Jericho we must sneeze, and say J’reclio. We must say — the Proverbs of Shclomoh. But this is not the end of it. The very names in men’s prayers and devotions must be reformed. Catholics must learn to say their Aves to ‘Mariam ‘; and the Protestant must meditate on the ‘ Blood of Jehoshual

The historical mind will so have it. It has laid down a rigid canon that, proper names should be spelt in the form in which their contemporaries wrote them. And if Alfred, a name which for so many centuries has been a watchword to the English race, is to be ‘ restored ’ into Ailfred, because he and his so spoke it and wrote it; by the same rule must we speak and write of Jehoshua of Nazareth, using the same letters in which the Scribes and Pharisees of his day recorded the name in official Hebrew. The historical mind has said it; and English literature, custom, the vernacular speech, poetry, patriotism, and devotion must all give way.

[festravels]

Pronunciation orthography

We cannot preserve exactly either the sounds they uttered, or the phrases they spoke, or the names of places and offices familiar to them. Why then need we be curious to spell their names as their contemporaries did, when we have altered all else — pronunciation, orthography, titles, and indeed the entire outer form of the language? The precision for which we vainly strive in the spelling of names is after all a makeshift, very imperfectly observed by any one, and entirely neglected by others. And it has the defect of ignoring a long and suggestive unity in history, language, and common civilisation.

It may be true that the contemporaries of ‘ Edward the Elder,’ ‘ Edward the Martyr,’ and ‘ Edward the Confessor ’ spelt the name Eadward, or Eadiveard, if they wrote in English; though they did not uniformly do so when they wrote it in Latin. But did the ‘ Edwards ’ of Plantagenet so spell their name; or ‘ Edward ’ Tudor; and will ‘ Edward the Seventh ’ so spell his name? And is Alfred, a name to conjure with wherever the English speech is heard, to be severed from the great king? ‘Alfred’ is a familiar name just as ‘ king ’ is a familiar title; and it is as pedantic to insist on archaic forms of the name as it would be to insist on the Saxon form of the office. Since Edward was not called by his contemporaries either ‘ King ’ or ‘ The Elder,’ what do we gain by such a hybrid phrase as ‘ King Eadweard the Elder ’?

It is only a half-hearted realism which writes—‘Eadweard was now King of all England.’ It should run: — ‘ Eadweard was now Cyning of all Engla-land.’ It is quite correct to write in modern English: — ‘ King Edward marched from London to York.’ Here, the proper names are all alike adapted to our vernacular. It is an anachronism, or an anarchaism, to write—‘ King Eadweard marched from London to York sightseeing turkey.’ It ought to run, if we are bent on writing pure old English, ‘ Eadweard Cyning marched from Lundenbyryg to Eofonvic.’

Ethelberht

That is the real couleur locale; but the general reader could hardly stand many pages of this. It is not true in fact that ‘ Ethelberht lived at Canterbury.’ He lived at ‘ Cant-wara-byryg.’ Ethelbert, however, may properly be said to have lived at Canterbury. For thirteen centuries Canterbury and *York have been famous centres of our English life. Except in a parenthesis, or in a monograph, it would be a nuisance to mention them under the cumbrous disguises of ‘ Eoforzvtc ’ and Cant-wara-byryg’; and for precisely the same reason it is a nuisance to read, Elfred, Ecgberht, and Eadweard.

Where is it going to stop? Ours is an age of archaeology, revival, and research; and in no field is research more active than in Biblical and other Oriental history. The grand familiar names, which have had a charm for us from childhood, which have kindled the veneration of a long roll of centuries, are all being ‘ restored ’ to satisfy an antiquarian purism. We shall soon be invited to call Moses, Mosheh, as his contemporaries did. Judah should be written Yehhda; Jacob will be Yaaqob. Our old friend Job will appear, clothed and in his right mind, as Iyob. The prophet Elijah is Eliyaku; and the prophet Isaiah is now metamorphosed into Yeshayahu. Imagine how our descendants will have to rewrite the lines: —

And the teacher will have to explain to our grandchildren that ‘ Isaiah ’ is an old vulgarism for Yeshayahu. ‘Jerusalem the Golden ’ will appear in the children’s hymns as Yerlishalaim; and when we speak of the walls of Jericho we must sneeze, and say J’reclio. We must say — the Proverbs of Shclomoh. But this is not the end of it. The very names in men’s prayers and devotions must be reformed. Catholics must learn to say their Aves to ‘Mariam ‘; and the Protestant must meditate on the ‘ Blood of Jehoshual

The historical mind will so have it. It has laid down a rigid canon that, proper names should be spelt in the form in which their contemporaries wrote them. And if Alfred, a name which for so many centuries has been a watchword to the English race, is to be ‘ restored ’ into Ailfred, because he and his so spoke it and wrote it; by the same rule must we speak and write of Jehoshua of Nazareth, using the same letters in which the Scribes and Pharisees of his day recorded the name in official Hebrew. The historical mind has said it; and English literature, custom, the vernacular speech, poetry, patriotism, and devotion must all give way.

[travelandtravel]

Pronunciation orthography

We cannot preserve exactly either the sounds they uttered, or the phrases they spoke, or the names of places and offices familiar to them. Why then need we be curious to spell their names as their contemporaries did, when we have altered all else — pronunciation, orthography, titles, and indeed the entire outer form of the language? The precision for which we vainly strive in the spelling of names is after all a makeshift, very imperfectly observed by any one, and entirely neglected by others. And it has the defect of ignoring a long and suggestive unity in history, language, and common civilisation.

It may be true that the contemporaries of ‘ Edward the Elder,’ ‘ Edward the Martyr,’ and ‘ Edward the Confessor ’ spelt the name Eadward, or Eadiveard, if they wrote in English; though they did not uniformly do so when they wrote it in Latin. But did the ‘ Edwards ’ of Plantagenet so spell their name; or ‘ Edward ’ Tudor; and will ‘ Edward the Seventh ’ so spell his name? And is Alfred, a name to conjure with wherever the English speech is heard, to be severed from the great king? ‘Alfred’ is a familiar name just as ‘ king ’ is a familiar title; and it is as pedantic to insist on archaic forms of the name as it would be to insist on the Saxon form of the office. Since Edward was not called by his contemporaries either ‘ King ’ or ‘ The Elder,’ what do we gain by such a hybrid phrase as ‘ King Eadweard the Elder ’?

It is only a half-hearted realism which writes—‘Eadweard was now King of all England.’ It should run: — ‘ Eadweard was now Cyning of all Engla-land.’ It is quite correct to write in modern English: — ‘ King Edward marched from London to York.’ Here, the proper names are all alike adapted to our vernacular. It is an anachronism, or an anarchaism, to write—‘ King Eadweard marched from London to York sightseeing turkey.’ It ought to run, if we are bent on writing pure old English, ‘ Eadweard Cyning marched from Lundenbyryg to Eofonvic.’

Ethelberht

That is the real couleur locale; but the general reader could hardly stand many pages of this. It is not true in fact that ‘ Ethelberht lived at Canterbury.’ He lived at ‘ Cant-wara-byryg.’ Ethelbert, however, may properly be said to have lived at Canterbury. For thirteen centuries Canterbury and *York have been famous centres of our English life. Except in a parenthesis, or in a monograph, it would be a nuisance to mention them under the cumbrous disguises of ‘ Eoforzvtc ’ and Cant-wara-byryg’; and for precisely the same reason it is a nuisance to read, Elfred, Ecgberht, and Eadweard.

Where is it going to stop? Ours is an age of archaeology, revival, and research; and in no field is research more active than in Biblical and other Oriental history. The grand familiar names, which have had a charm for us from childhood, which have kindled the veneration of a long roll of centuries, are all being ‘ restored ’ to satisfy an antiquarian purism. We shall soon be invited to call Moses, Mosheh, as his contemporaries did. Judah should be written Yehhda; Jacob will be Yaaqob. Our old friend Job will appear, clothed and in his right mind, as Iyob. The prophet Elijah is Eliyaku; and the prophet Isaiah is now metamorphosed into Yeshayahu. Imagine how our descendants will have to rewrite the lines: —

And the teacher will have to explain to our grandchildren that ‘ Isaiah ’ is an old vulgarism for Yeshayahu. ‘Jerusalem the Golden ’ will appear in the children’s hymns as Yerlishalaim; and when we speak of the walls of Jericho we must sneeze, and say J’reclio. We must say — the Proverbs of Shclomoh. But this is not the end of it. The very names in men’s prayers and devotions must be reformed. Catholics must learn to say their Aves to ‘Mariam ‘; and the Protestant must meditate on the ‘ Blood of Jehoshual

The historical mind will so have it. It has laid down a rigid canon that, proper names should be spelt in the form in which their contemporaries wrote them. And if Alfred, a name which for so many centuries has been a watchword to the English race, is to be ‘ restored ’ into Ailfred, because he and his so spoke it and wrote it; by the same rule must we speak and write of Jehoshua of Nazareth, using the same letters in which the Scribes and Pharisees of his day recorded the name in official Hebrew. The historical mind has said it; and English literature, custom, the vernacular speech, poetry, patriotism, and devotion must all give way.