#probably better in the aramaic

[marlowe1-blog]

The Book of Job chapter 6

Job offers a rebuttal

So Job is not nearly as angry with Eliphaz as I was. I guess Job is too tired to be angry. Instead he disputes the notion that G-d will punish him for what he's saying. He's already destroyed. What is G-d going to do to him? Killing him would be a mercy at this point.

I would be much less poetic to the "happy is the man who God reproves". Certainly I wouldn't be talking about calamity heavier than the sands on the sea and arrows of the Almighty in me.

This might prove more difficult than I thought. There's a LOT of great poetry in this book (even in the not terribly poetic JPS translation). I am reminded of my Theater History class in college where we got to Hamlet and everyone just started talking about how much they loved the poetry. Like every other work we could talk about themes, characters, staging, etc. But Hamlet just hypnotized everyone and the professor noted that almost every class has very little to say about Hamlet when they are first introduced. Which is weird since there is way MORE to say about Hamlet than Oedipus Rex or the Revenger's Tale.

His words go from general to specific. He notes that only the suffering cry out. Then goes back to the "If only God would destroy me" before pointing out that his friends are useless. Worse than useless. Sure first he compares them to melting ice, but then he goes "do you devise words of reproof but count a hopeless man's words as wind? You would even cast lots over an opran, or barter away your friend."

But continually he is going "tell me that I'm wrong"

So this is getting long, but today I was reminded of a particular noxious individual that I considered a friend before Obama won and then still considered a friend until the fact that every time I said hello he just glared at me. I later learned that he told mutual friends about how much he hated me. He was always a creepy dude so I wasn't terribly concerned about him cutting ties with me, but he founded a publishing company and his family still runs it so it's annoying that he publishes some cool Jewish books that I would love to buy if I wasn't giving that mamzer money.

Anyhow on the way home, I looked him up to see what he's been doing. Jumping from job to job. Had a time as a pulpit rabbi (left after a year so probably molesting some congregants) and a lot of articles about how abortion is murder complete with taking that Project Veritas "abortion" video at face value.

I found his LinkedIn account (I swear it only took 10 minutes to look all this stuff up) and saw that he responded to a post about how "Man, that's tough" being a good thing to say to someone being overwhelmed with a bitchy self-aggrandizing post about how he needs PRACTICAL ADVICE when he's feeling overhwhelmed. He even said that he's playing devil's advocate.

So I told him that he sounds like Eliphaz the Temanite (he's a rabbi so he should get the reference) and that I have advice for him, stop being a noxious lying little shit.

I'm not proud of myself for that.

But it's fascinating to see that this guy (who also used to post articles on Facebook about how you should be EMOTIONALLY STRONG) is still about as knowledgeable about human emotions as he was back when he was the glaring asshole of Washington Heights.

Oh shit. It's not even about him. It's about another friend who just sent me an email inviting me to her philosophy group at Columbia. We haven't talked since she went off the deep end stanning for the CCP.

Oh. Damn.

Anyhow. Job is wondering why his friends have nothing to help him beyond reproof and bullshit statements like "happy is the man who God reproves" And as a reader, I'm wondering why these guys are acting that way.

But I miss a friend and because I can't really talk to her and there's really no way I see us ever being friends again, I look up a shitty dude that I never liked that much in the first place.

Can you believe I write term papers for a living? One thing I have over ChatGPT is the fact that I'll never start throwing in these personal asides.

[doctorprofessorsong]

Destiel Fic Recs!!

Here We May Be Free by FriendofCarlotta @friendofcarlotta (39k, Explicit)

As you probably know, I love a monster Cas fic and this is a fun one. A mermaid AU with a lot of great lore.

When Dean was a kid, John took them on an ill-advised and unsuccessful beach trip. But Dean has never forgotten the moment of peace he felt in the water, and the half glimpse that he might not be alone there. It's a moment etched in his mind, and one he tried to drunkenly recreate years ago while Sam was at Stanford with no success. But finding himself struggling with what to do next now that their father and the yellow eyed demon are gone, Dean decides it's time to return to the beach in the hope that he can still reclaim that moment.

Dean and Cas have a delightfully magnetic relationship which makes this one immensely readable. There is also a truly fantastic brother dynamic (including Sam's sometimes clunky attempts to draw Dean out while missing the big picture). And Cas has some delightful mermaidy idiosyncrasies.

Suptober Day 10: Enchanted by tiamatv (9k, Teen)

Frog prince Castiel!! What else do you need?

The is a cute little one shot where Cas gets turned into a frog by a curse. It has all the fun tropes that go along with this genre. Frog!Cas snuggling with Dean and being cared for by Dean, Dean being able to use his words with Frog!Cas a bit better, awkward animal biology, and a healthy dose of humor. It's absolute perfection.

Highly recommend for a light little read. Low angst, fun froggy facts and a good time for all.

We Don’t Talk About It by luckshiptoshore @luckshiptoshore (6.5k, Teen)

This is a short little one shot, and it's SUCH a fun one. The concept is just such a delight.

Cas comes back wrong. Specifically, Cas comes back with angel aphasia-like condition where everything he says is a muddled mix of ancient languages instead of English as he intends.

Except…Dean would swear he seems to be able to understand him even though he doesn't speak Aramaic/Enochian/Ecclesiastical)/Latin.

There are some absolutely hilarious moments of Dr. Sexy appreciation and there is something extremely soft about Dean understanding Cas. There's a delightful element of somehow understanding each other better in different languages. It's funny and sweet and just just great read.

Dear Western Red Cedar #2409 by MittenWraith @mittensmorgul (63k, Mature)

This one is a fluffy little pine fest fic with so many soft moments. Dean is a park ranger with a crush on the local librarian, Cas. He's also secretly a successful writer. Between his long absences for work and his secret, he doesn't have much time for dating. Besides, he's pretty sure Cas isn't interested.

Cas, for his part, is very interested and very lonely. Desperate for some contact with anyone, he pours his feelings out in a missive to a stranger monitoring a reporting email for local flora. It's a delightful 2plt with some great epistolary elements. The characterization is soft and fluffy and the pining is soft and longing. It has all the elements of a great comfort fic.

no body, no crime by big_wet_cas_eyes @big-wet-cas-eyes (31k, Explicit)

This is technically a murder husbands fic, so know that going in, but it's a surprisingly *soft* one where it's more like a hurt/comfort with a side of murder. Being an enthusiast of both, this one managed to strike a great chord with me personally.

Sam and Cas have been friends since college and regardless of what else is going on in their lives, they always make time to get together once a week for dinner. But a week after Sam confesses he thinks his wife, Ruby, may be having an affair, he's greeted not by Sam, but Dean who informs him Cas is missing. Despondent, they turn to each other for comfort and find much more.

The emotional and physical (not just sexual) intimacy between Dean and Cas is absolutely lovely in this fic, and you find yourself rooting for them to be happy.

Stalk, Marry, Kill by Fullvoid @casgore (23k, Explicit plus timestamps)

On the other end of the murder husbands spectrum is this delightfully depraved fic. Dean is married to a famous author, Aaron, but he's restless and unhappy with his life until a smoking hot new co-worker walks into his engineering firm.

Dean and Cas are about to do a bad thing. Well several bad things. In great and dirty detail. This is a classic Void fic with obsessive undertones and bad behavior, so mind the tags. But if this is your thing, it's a great one.

Check out my other fic recs at @riversrecs

@varlysca @naturallyathief @greatbigbugger @fandoms-and-things @you-cant-spell-subtext-without @deanwasalwaysbi @fellshish @valleydean @raspberry-tooth @the15yearhatecrime @sunglassesmish

Ask to be added to my tag list!

[missedstations]

"In Assisi" - Kim Addonizio

This souvenir shop is full of skinny wooden crucified Christs like there weren’t enough of those in the churches already

I guess everyone has to believe in something Crystals, colonics, when you die you get virgins or your very own planet where you can spin for eternity in your celestial underpants

Some people believe Jesus spoke to St. Francis, but I have a feeling Jesus is just going to hang there silently looking holy & tormented for another two thousand years or so

I don’t think I’m going to get a Catholic miracle, like a statue blinks at me & I suddenly understand Italian Greek Latin Aramaic & Ugaritic

or peel off my tattoos & send the carved lions of my higher self to tear apart the lambs of my addictions

I’ll probably just go on kneeling before minibars in hotel rooms in my silk robe of flowers, praising the macadamias

One story about St. Francis is that two years before he died he got stigmata Probably malaria or leprosy, but imagine those sores

He dressed in a mended sack & old worn sandals If you saw him in Berkeley you might cross the street then come back with some change & try not to touch his hand

At the end of his life he was going blind, living in a reed hut overrun by mice Mice slithering over his feet, mice climbing the table to sit on his plate I guess they figured out that the job of a saint is to suffer as horribly as possible

St. Agnes raped & stabbed in the throat Joan of Arc burned & cast into the Seine

Oliver Plunkett: imprisoned hanged drawn & quartered beheaded beatified canonized

Brother Sun, Sister-in-law Death, forgive me I don’t see the point of all this pain, or believing it gets better when you’re boxed & delivered to the parade of microbes that will devour your corpse

I know my soul is small, it just wants a decent hotel room & the man who lies down to sleep so trustingly beside me to open his eyes & love me

[sleepy-aletheas]

Ok, the more I think about this, the more this drives me insane: What is up with Genshin and music?

(I really need to replay this game, cause finding stuff is nigh impossible, gives me migraines, and I swear I know these things, but it's hard to remember or name them correctly without double checking them)

The Aranara talked a few times about music and how it's like a great river that splits at points only to flood back together at the end. Everyone and everything has their own song, the Aranara just know theirs and can identify each other with it. You could almost see Teyvat as a massive symphony.

Khvarena was Nabu Malikata's daughter, and it was through the Goddess of Flowers that Rukkhadevata even learned about the Source Song (and that knowledge then lead her to have the Aranara). Even Sorush, who makes fun of the Aranara for not being as great as the Pari (because of her own insecurities), pretty much says that they could be the one and the same, because both derive powers from songs.

Then we got Remuria that was linked with music a lot -- be it for communication, prophecy or record keeping. We don't have a dedicated race of beings that have a natural inclination or even are made from it to wield it (or maybe we do and i'm absolutely blanking out), but it's good to keep an eye out for something to pop out.

And then we got Mondstadt, full of bards, love for poems and stories and songs. This is so far the one place in the game that music is their main thing, established and expected. What better place to use music that apparently can purify corruption, can use the power of memories, and was shared by a fallen seelie to another god, and then a god king also prominently using it for his own reasons, than a place that made its identity a home for such a thing?

And now that I think about it, weren't there some of Rene's notes that discussed the similarity of the Great Songs of Khvarena and abyssal energy? Like, they obviously are in opposition of each other (one purifies, the other corrupts), but they probably work within the same rules and limits.

(and now I'm going absolutely unhinged)

I wonder if Teyvat is stuck in a dream, and the songs are lullabies that create sweeter dreams or nightmares. "In the perpetual meantime of a sheltered eternity, most are content to live, and not to dream. But in the hidden corners where the gods' gaze do not fall, there are those who dream of dreaming." Dain's speech in the Travail video reminds me of Arama and Paimon's dialogue in For Fruits, Seeds, and Trees:

And if we take into account the whole Akasha fiasco of having dreams, but they were harvested all this time:

It wouldn't be so far fetched to think that it could happen on a massive scale across Teyvat. And if memories and dreams are interchangeable (with Aranara being dream beings that have memories of the world, if they didn't give them up for powerful feats), and Irminsul is the main hub of the collective memory of the world...

I'm going insane. Great.

[tlaquetzqui]

“Humans are the dominant race in this fantasy world.”

How. No but seriously. Elves and dwarves are more magically or technologically advanced, likely both. They have better medicine and sanitation. Their fertile lifespans are probably longer than a human’s entire one, and they have lower child mortality.

“Well because humans can live in more environments.”

That will certainly come in handy when they’re left with only the territories their betters don’t want.

“All the other races learn a human language to do business with each other.”

Yes because they all do business with humans, who live in the between-places that they don’t want. So human languages make a useful koine. That was why Aramaic was the common language of the Babylonian and Persian empires. You have never in your life seen an Aramean monument or ruin, though.

Now, of course, if humans believe they are the dominant race, that would be different, and typical of the arrogant stupid monkeys.

[wolffyluna]

I think I may have made some prosleytizers happy today.

I just wanted to grab some pamphlets from the "Hello! Please join Islam" group (I Like Religious Pamphlets), but I was willing to talk and my approximate knowledge of many things extended enough to Islam that I think I kind of ?impressed? them. And I think I may have also convinced them that they had got me on the hook. I was a single failed conversational reflex save from saying the shahada.

The thing is, while my mouth was being friendly and interested, internally I was going "...that's not a revelation from God, that's something you could have known by mundane means," "that's not a revelation from God, and it's not even how mountains work," "While I can't say definitevely that that's not a revelation from God, I will point out that in any book containing a lot of imagery, the probability that that imagery can apply if you squint to something centuries later rapidly approaches 1."

And now, an hour or so later, I find myself coming up with ways to make their arguments for the truth of Islam better.

You see, the person I was talking to's argument against Christianity was that there were "too many versions of the Bible" and could you really trust your immortal soul with that? Now, he could have meant "the whole situation with the apocrypha is /weird/ when it comes to a revelation from God, what are y'all even doing." But no, from context, he meant the fact that they were multiple English translations.

Which, uh, bold words from the guy who's own sacred text has multiple English translation?

Now, points to Islam, they have way more of a tradition of reading the Quran in Arabic compared to Christians' and reading the original Hebrew/Aramaic/Koine Greek. But Christians do... do that. (I think he was also judging them for not reading Jesus' words in the "original Arabic" but. um. There are some technical difficulties with doing that.)

The thing is, if I wanted to argue that Christians had a) recieved a revelation from God, but b) had willfully misinterpreted it and stewarded it badly, I would not go for English translations. No, there's a better slam dunk* lined up here: The Nicene Creed.

It won't work against all Christians, but he's going for an Australian audience here, and Australian Christians mostly fall under the Nicene umbrella.

And the Nicene Creed is a statement of orthodox Christian belief that isn't in the Bible. Chunks of it are made up of implications from the Bible, that come with wild disagreement about. And it was (arguably) created for political purposes by a Roman Emperor! Come on! It's an easy shot, stop running down the wrong side of court going "but the NIV vs the KJV!"

*Read: more convincing to weird religious nerds like moi.

[eyeoftheheart]

Prayers of the cosmos : meditations on the Aramaic words of Jesus by Neil Douglas-Klotz

“Native peoples in the Middle East also had a rich language, culture, and spirituality for thousands of years before Jesus. His inspired use of many older sacred phrases, reaching back even beyond the Hebrew tradition, shows that a native mystical tradition did survive, probably in hiding or in the desert, both before and throughout the rise of orthodox Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Some schools of Sufism claim to be among the inheritors of this native Middle Eastern tradition, which precedes even the Egyptian mystery schools.

(...)

The effect of the "mystical" is not to mystify, but to return us to a better relationship with the cosmos, which is the heritage of all native traditions.

(...)

All the major contemporary traditions of the Middle East — Jewish, Christian, and Islamic —stem from the same source, the same earth, and probably the same language. All originally called God either El or Al, which means "That," "the One," or "that One which expresses itself uniquely through all things." From this root arises the sacred names Elat (Old Canaanite), Elohim (Hebrew), Allaha (Aramaic), and Allah (Arabic). If this simple fact became better known, I believe there would be much more tolerance and understanding among those who consciously or unconsciously perpetuate prejudice between what are essentially brother-sister traditions.”

~ Dr. Neil Douglas-Klotz (Shaykh Saadi Shakur Chishti)

[liopleurodean]

Season 12, Episode 4: American Nightmare

They always show the churches so empty

She is not okay

...were those the cross wounds?

They are!

What is she saying?

The crown of thorns...

Must be Enochian

Not again

Sean Penn and Robert De Niro are the stars of the movie "We're No Angels"...

Poor guy

Dean.

He's not exactly wrong

It seemed angelic

That's one way to put it

They are. So loud. And surrounded by people

That was weird

Aw, Dean...

No, you're not

Again.

Sounds like a great TV show

...

Sam, what does that mean?

I thought Sam hated rock. Of all kinds. My whole world is upside down right now

Dean asking the real questions

Eloi, eloi, lama sabachthani (I'm proud of myself, I looked it up to make sure the spelling was right and only two letters were off)

They want to know

Yikes

He is definitely not okay

That's one way to put it

Dean...

Sounds like Jesus to me

Wait, THAT'S what stigmata means? I gotta go find that Tumblr poll

Huh.

Romans

Yikes

Right...

Not likely

Hmm

Makes sense

Wouldn't it be really funny if there was a tiny file about the Winchesters in there? Like, ages ago some ran across them living in a motel and filed a report but they moved out before anything happened

Dean, no

Jumping to conclusions

He is really antsy

Another one

Yikes

That's a lead

It's hard to do

Oh! Magda Peterson! Okay

More likely than the Wiccan

Sweater time

Oh, this is funny

Remember when Dean was able to parkour off of chain link fences? Yeah, me too

Dean.

...

But she doesn't hate you!

I've definitely done better with my brother after time apart

Jim Morrison and Ray Manzarek were both in The Doors, known for the song "Light My Fire."

Dean.

That was an interesting reaction

I can imagine

Hah. Hahahaha. Yeah, they know God.

Concerning

The bike from the previous episode. Men of Letters tailing them, maybe?

I miss the old plates

Guess so

Wow. That's rough, buddy. What made the change?

Not me, sitting in front of two screens, typing about fake people doing fake things 😭

I can respect that

There we go

Ah

"behavior-enhancing", what does that mean? Anti-depressants?

...that's not concerning at all

But not for too long

I guess it worked

Sacrifices for longevity?

Sam...

Out of context, this probably looks horrible

Dean is confused™

I think Sam is on the better track

Dean.

Don't shoot her, Dean

Huh. Abraham and Elijah. Magda for Magdalene? I wonder what the wife's name is

Oh, don't ruin one of my favorite childhood songs like this

That must be Magda

She's skipping around in the song

Poor girl

Heh.

I don't think it's Lucifer

What is that, a flail?

...are they making her whip herself???

It's not her fault

Kid, get away from there

Spooky

I don't think so

The psychic powers

One of the horseshoes is upside down

...he has the Men of Letters symbol as his background? Seriously?

Nice candle

Dean, no

Yeah, I bet

That is kind of hilarious

Thank goodness they had that conversation

Great, he doesn't have an alibi

Where did they get the Aramaic from?

Well, I may not recognize most of the words, but I know a-do-nay!

Spooky

They were both wrong

Uh oh

Elijah, no

Dang it

I know this song, too

Is it?

You're not the devil, kid

Sam would know

That's not the devil, kiddo

How old is she?

Telekinesis

He hasn't used them in a hot minute

He used to

Hah! Not really

It wasn't on purpose

Oh, Magda...

It wasn't your fault, kiddo

Is this a normal situation?

Definitely not helping!

No, you really don't!

That doesn't sound right

No! No, it doesn't! That's against everything Jesus stood for!

What?

She's a psychopath!

Elijah, no!

Magda, help him!

No. Not even remotely

No!

This is horrifying

Magda, no, please

Thank goodness

Right

Let's hope she's not as psycho

Oh really? What makes you say that, Dean?

It's okay

I hope so

Wow.

Yeah...

Speaking of

Aw. Cute

Liar

Heh. She's got that hunter chic

...I don't think she's gonna make it to California

There's biker guy

Magda, look out!

Oh no...

Ketch?

Those freaking--

[thewapolls]

I already sorta mentioned it in relation to the Adult Mag entry in the boss fight tournament, but it's fun to go over again,

BLUE BOOK is a fun reference to old English almanacs that implies a comprehensive collection of information, suitable for a magical autonomous book of magic.

NECRONOMIOCN taken famously from Lovecraftian lore, and a natural pick for a magical book enemy. Oddly despite the source material, it's not an especially threatening enemy in any of its appearances. Also it does not appear to be bound in human flesh, which is a shame because it could have made for a cool striking enemy model; although the pages of the WA1 model do have giant eyes in them.

TARGUM however is a much more obscure kind of reference. It's the term used to refer to the early translations of the Tanakh from their original Hebrew into Aramaic. I like the idea of it being used here to evoke a kind of ancient foreign magic of which this is the first comprehensible version of it written down for Filgaians. Also it's bound with a Japanese style sidestich rather than with a spine, giving a distinctly antique impression.

APOCRYPHA is a another fun one. Apocrypha can refer to a wide range of things in opposition to "canonical" texts. Probably most notable, or at least most familiar to people, would be the idea of biblical apocrypha; those biblical texts by subject and/or historical era not included in the bible itself, and considered by some to be heretical. It's neat as a magic tome as it implies something more secret, or rejected, or even forbidden.

DE RE METALLICA first appears not as an enemy at all but as the erroneously transliterated "De Le Metalica" dungeon, hidden within a magic book in Wild Arms 1, and subsequently Alter Code F. The real world De Re Metallica was a 16th century text written by Georg Bauer, cataloguing in 12 books all the details of how to find, mine, purify, smelt, and craft metal --a literally earth shattering development in mining and metalwork as it not only aggregated a long history of otherwise disparate and unwritten knowledge but also ventured into the then cutting edge of metallurgy and alchemy that would provide a groundwork for future developments in actual chemistry.

Then of course we have the ADULT MAG. Rather self explanatory, really. SUKEBEBONN[スケベ本]: "Lewd Book" in Japanese, it's a phrase that tends to refer to erotic manga more than the sort of adult photo collections we might think of in the west. In fact the first Dirty Mag model in WA3 actually has "ERO COM," as in "erotic comic", written on its cover. In fact something more in line with Hustler or Playboy would actually be referred to as a "Gravure" magazine.

The COMICBOOK which is again straight forward enough. It's just called MANGA in the original Japanese. If you're not familiar, Japanese serial manga are printed in magazine format, larger size, generally lower quality paper and print, but proportionally lower in cost as well(as little as the equivalent of 5.00USD for ~500 pages), but dozens of titles to an issue. Back when the Japanese and global economy were a little better, and when people still used phonebooks, they were often compared in size, although they tend to be a bit slimmer in recent years. In case it was odd to anyone why the comic book enemy was the size of a regular book. It's a shame this enemy didn't show up in other games.

and finally, STRATEGY GUIDE, which is a fun one. With Virginia and the title "WILD ARMS 3" on the cover. Another fun gag enemy with some 4th wall breaking fun for good measure. Again shame we never saw it make a comeback in any other games.

[klaeusd]

i'm interested. which variants of the languages you listed does klaus speak? does he speak archaic, classical, vulgar, medieval, renaissance, ecclesiastical or contemporary latin? which italian dialects does he understand and speak? how did he learn bulgarian? did katherine teach him? would he understand contemporary bulgarian? does he speak the standard form or would he understand the street language? is he still fluent in old norse or has he forgotten some of it? how often has he used old norse throughout the centuries? where and when did he learn aramaic?

overall: he speaks all these languages because he's spent centuries ( or millennia in my main verse ) travelling the world to run from mikael, so it's pretty much necessary that he knows a wide swath of languages — that's how and why he picked up the vast majority of them. plus he has an uber powerful mind ( meaning he learns and memorizes things quickly ) and a potential eternity before him, so why not learn as many languages as possible? he enjoys learning about cultures from all over the world, and no better way to do that than to visit one and be able to speak their mother tongue. now to address all your questions, i guess i'll just separate these by language, and alphabetically lmao:

for aramaic, it's canon that he speaks it. how and where he learned it is never explained ( at least, not that i recall ), but for my personal portrayal, it really just makes sense that he knows it. the language dates back to the 3rd millennium bc, so it would've come around in his lifetime and he would've just picked it up naturally. he continues to speak and write it now really just to say he can, given how complex it is and how few people know it as a result.

for bulgarian, it's also canon that he speaks it. he knew it before meeting katerina, as he spoke it and impressed her upon their first meeting. i can't think of any reason in particular he'd know this one, apart from simply learning it upon his travels. he probably knows old and modern bulgarian, given that he was likely in bulgaria in both the 11th and 16th centuries. i don't see him having gone back since the failed sacrifice that took place there, so he wouldn't know any version that was born between now and then.

for latin, he's fluent in them all, helped largely by how much time he's spent in europe ( he had much fun with the roman empire and its exploits ) over the millennia. given how many other languages he speaks that are derived from latin, it only makes sense he's fluent in the original in all its forms. again, still being fluent in archic latin is mainly just for bragging rights, tbh — though he does also feel rather ... wistful or sorrowful at the thought of losing a language to history, and wishes to hold onto it as a result.

for italian, he lived in italy ( and fell in love with stef there hehe ), so he of course learned their language. he knows the main five well ( neapolitan, sicilian, friulian, catalan, sardinian ), but would definitely be rusty to ignorant to the rest. italy holds a lot of memories that are oft difficult to relive, and he's sort of avoided the country ever since.

for old norse, the reasoning for this is more canon based, and that would be that mikael was a viking — and while i don't recall it ever being stated, it seems obvious to me that they would've spoken old norse as mikael and esther came to america from norway and likely used the language around their children. he hasn't really used it much, given how it eventually diverged into numerous other languages and is no longer spoken as a living language. he's still fluent despite this, given that he practices to himself sometimes and again, thanks to his basically photographic memory.

[pinkaddiofficial]

Kebab (UK: /kɪˈbæb/, US: /kɪˈbɑːb/; Arabic: كباب, kabāb, [kaˈbaːb]; Turkish: kebap, [cebɑp]) or kabob (North American) is a type of cooked meat dish that originates from cuisines of the Middle East. Many variants of the category are popular around the world, including the skewered shish kebab and the doner kebab with bread.

Kebabs consist of cut up or ground meat, sometimes with vegetables and various other accompaniments according to the specific recipe. Although kebabs are typically cooked on a skewer over a fire, some kebab dishes are oven-baked in a pan, or prepared as a stew such as tas kebab.[1][2] The traditional meat for kebabs is most often lamb meat, but regional recipes may include beef, goat, chicken, fish, or even pork (depending on whether or not there are specific religious prohibitions).

History

In Ibn Sayyar al-Warraq's 10th-century Baghdadi cookbook Kitab al-Tabikh (Arabic: كتاب الطبيخ), a compendium of much of the legacy of Mesopotamian, Persian, and Arab cuisine, there are descriptions of kabāb as cut-up meat, either fried in a pan or grilled over a fire.[3]

However, while the word kebab or shish kebab may sometimes be used in English as a culinary term that refers to any type of small chunks of meat cooked on a skewer,[1] kebab is mainly associated with a diversity of meat dishes that originated in the medieval kitchens of Persia and Anatolia.[4] Though the word has ancient origins, it was popularized in the West by Turks to refer to this range of grilled and broiled meat, which may be cooked on skewers, but also as stews, meatballs, and other forms.[1][4] This cuisine has spread around the world, in parallel with Muslim influence.[1] According to Ibn Battuta, a Moroccan traveller, kebab was served in the royal houses during the Delhi Sultanate (1206–1526 CE), and even commoners would enjoy it for breakfast with naan.[5] Kebab dishes have been adopted and integrated with local cooking styles and innovations, from the now-ubiquitous doner kebab fast food, to the many variations of shish kebab, such as the satays of Southeast Asia.[1]

The word kebab likely came to English in the late 17th century from the Arabic kabāb, partly through Hindustani, Persian and Turkish.[6][7] According to linguist Sevan Nişanyan, the Turkish word kebap is also derived from the Arabic word kabāb, meaning roasted meat. It appears in Turkish texts as early as the 14th century, in Kyssa-i Yusuf (the story of Joseph), though still in the Arabic form. Nişanyan states that the word has the equivalent meaning of 'frying, burning' with kabābu in the old Akkadian language, and kbabā כבבא in Aramaic.[8] In contrast, food historian Gil Marks says that the medieval Arabic and Turkish terms were adopted from the Persian kabab, which probably derived from the Aramaic.[4]

The American Heritage Dictionary also gives a probable East Semitic root origin with the meaning of 'burn', 'char', or 'roast', from the Aramaic and Akkadian.[9] The Babylonian Talmud instructs that Temple offerings not be kabbaba (burned).[4] These words point to an origin in the prehistoric Proto-Afroasiatic language: *kab-, to burn or roast.[10]

Varieties by region

This section needs additional citations for verification. Please help improve this article by adding citations to reliable sources. Unsourced material may be challenged and removed. Find sources: "Kebab" – news · newspapers · books · scholar · JSTOR (February 2018) (Learn how and when to remove this template message)

For a list of kebab variants, see List of kebabs.

In most English-speaking countries, a kebab may be the classic shish kebab or souvlaki – small cubes of meat cooked on a skewer[1][6] – or, in North America where it is better known as gyros where as outside North America fast-food is known as doner kebab.[11][6][4] By contrast, in Indian English, Bangladeshi English, Pakistani English[12][13] and in the languages of the Middle East, other parts of Asia, and the Muslim world, a kebab is any of a wide variety of grilled meat dishes. Some dishes ultimately derived from Middle Eastern kebab may have different names in their local languages, such as the Chinese chuan.

...

There are so many words I haven't heard of before here.

[sacred-stanning]

Chapter 16 Part 2: A big castle

So let's start looking around at the map we've got here. Ephraim's group starts in the lower left corner.

Interestingly, I'm pretty sure Eirika's group (if you do her route) starts to the right of here. I think I prefer the Ephraim starting spot since you can easily split off a group to go up along the skinny one-tile path on the left.

Moving up, we see where that skinny path goes...

So Rennac will be going on the left path since there are three doors and a chest there.

Moving right from the starting position, we see a smattering of enemies and the main entrance, which is not closed.

Once you're in the entrance, you double back and then can head up, either to the left where the back entrance is, or right to the throne room, and beyond that, some chests. Or you can head down and then left to get to the lone chest and the passage with the doors that Rennac will open.

Here's a better shot of the room right above our starting position.

I like the layout in this map. It's interesting. Having a main front entrance that you can just walk into and a back entrance with doors to get through is neat. The map also has some reinforcements later that come from behind. It's not a particularly challenging map though, especially on normal difficulty, since most of the enemies are still unpromoted.

Oh yes, and after game overing on that one map when Ephraim got critted, I gave him the Hoplon Guard, at least for now. lol

Vanessa gets the Fili Shield. She has much lower defense than Cormag, so he can probably withstand arrows ok even while taking x3 damage.

So starting the map, I send Ephraim, L'Arachel, Lute, Vanessa, Cormag, and Franz off to the right to storm the main entrance.

The remaining units head up the skinny path, with Ross the bruiser out front.

Here's some enemy phase action. This is why this map is not so hard. Look at the hit rates and damage amounts the enemies have against all of these promoted units I've got.

I really should have played on hard difficulty...

L'Arachel has no one to staff at, so she gets to play with fire for once.

And, as predicted, Ephraim hits level 20, maxing out his levels until this map is done.

The left group (Ross, Rennac, Gerik, Tethys, Moulder) keeps moving up, with Ross bullying this Armor Knight.

I discover during enemy phase that there's someone with a Berserk Staff up this way. Gerik dodges it (12 hit rate, lol) and then uses his Long Bow to take the guy out while leaving room for Ross to move up and hit the Armor Knight in front of the door.

Ross easily removes the Armor Knight, and then Tethys dances Rennac so he can get up to the door and open it. He'll probably take an attack from the Shaman, but that should be it. I think the next Armor Knight also won't move since he's in front of a door, and they seem to like to have stationary Armor Knights guarding doors in this game.

Next time: The Arama~ princess has some words for Ephraim

[joywritesbutitsactuallymystories]

Nothing in the Chest

It seemed to be a casual day, Monday like any other, until I opened the door and saw an ancient wooden chest just on my front door. Needless to say, I found the package immensely puzzling, and despite my best intentions could not resist bringing it into my home. I was strongly aware of the fact that I was not expecting a package on that Monday, nay, I was never expecting a package like that beautiful, wooden chest, but I could not just leave it on my doorstep! Oh no, if I had left it, some accursed vagabond would surely steal it, and either destroy its intricate inscriptions or pawn it for a few shillings. No, It was surely better for the package to be brought into my home.

I sat in my armchair, sipped on my coffee and stared at the chest. It was mesmerising, its beauty greater than anything I had ever seen in my life. I peered at the inscriptions on it; evidently an ancient language, possibly a dialect of aramaic. I took out my magnifier and set down to rewrite the text onto paper, so as to easier translate. I did not finish an undergraduate degree in ancient languages for nothing after all. After an hour or so, I had the full script translated. ‘A life for a life, death is the way – learn to catch up with life’. Over and over again, the sentence was repeated, a total of 48 times.

The chests clasp was golden, from what I could tell, pure golden. The lock was a tubular pin tumbler lock, with a star shaped keyhole. I whipped out my lockpicking set. To heck with my work, to heck with the world! This is what I lived for! Mystery, intrigue, ancient stories yet to be uncovered. This is why I chose to study archeology and anthropology for my PhD, this is why I moved to louisiana. The thrill is what I live for, what I seek every single day. I slaved over the chest for another two hours or so, till around midday, before I finally broke the lock. I lifted the lid of the heavy wooden chest (most probably oak based) and peered into it.

The moment I opened the box, a whisper escaped, and inside I saw Nothing. A thick, pitch-black, beautiful, mesmerising Nothing. I could not pull myself from the Nothing. It swallowed me whole, became me, and I it.

I was Nothing and I was in the Nothing. I could not feel the passage of time, it did not exist to me. All there was was Nothing. And suddenly there was a Voice. ‘Death is the way’, it hissed into my ear. ‘a life for life’. And out of nowhere there was Something, Everything. There was a blinding light, and then red. I knew who I was again, I was myself, a Something. And my hands were blood-covered, the room was covered in red. I was wading in blood, someone else’s blood. I took a look down, and at my feet was a warm body, 30 years old, female. In my hand was a dagger. The murder weapon, undoubtedly. I had murdered someone. I had stolen the most precious of all gifts – the gift of life. And yet the remainder of the Nothing inside of me was pleased. ‘good’, it said. ‘A life for a life. Hers for ours. Catch up with us’. I ran.

I don’t see the decision to run as an act of cowardice – more… self preservation. I had so much more to give to the world, and I knew that from behind the bars of a prison cell I could not change the world. So I ran. As fast as my legs would carry me. I jumped into the river and swam from one end to the other to wash the blood off myself. Lucky me, I must admit, as the water in Louisiana is much warmer than the lakes I swam in in the winter back in York county. I got out and kept running. Lucky me, again, as I was York county’s national triathlon champion, winning first place every season while I lived there. I got to my house, mainly dry from the summer air and turned on the lights. I only then realised it was night-time. Strange, as the last I remembered was midday. I carefully cleaned the dagger of any residue and placed it in a plastic bag, hiding it in the vault behind the landscape painting over my mantelpiece.

I did not understand. I did not know why I was given the accursed, yet mesmerizingly beautiful chest. The universe works in mysterious ways, and the regular human being cannot possibly hope to understand them. But now I know. I know what the box was, what I unleashed unto the world when I opened it. It took me decades of studies and research. I uncovered ancient civilizations and arcane knowledge that in times of old only prophets would attain. I understood that I had unleashed hell upon the earth. That chest was my Pandora’s box, and the sacrifice demanded, the necessary exchange for the life of the eldritch terrors that it held.

That is the testimony I received. I hadn’t had an idea what I was going to do with it. This was a respected, well renowned scientist we were talking about, and the murder case he testified for had gone cold over 60 years ago. Another matter – Dr. Stone couldn’t have killed Mary Jane, hell, Dr. Stone couldn’t have been alive at the same time as Mary Jane. It just wasn’t possible. Still, I entered the testimony into the system and moved Dr. Stone to a temporary detainment chamber. I went back home.

It seemed to be a casual day, Monday like any other, until I opened the door and saw an ancient wooden chest just on my front door.

[thewordwideweb]

Give us this day our "daily" bread. Really?

The quickest way to get people riled up on the internet is to talk about politics or religion (or possibly sports), so I generally try to keep those topics out of my Word of the Day posts (with the exception of the handful of times I’ve been compelled to write about the Big Fat Orange Insurrectionist. You can look in the archive for entries on revanchism, sleazy, ignoramus and quockerwodger, among others).

At the prompting of my old fried Henry, though, we’re going to delve into religion today. Specifically, the Lord’s Prayer. And even more specifically, the line about giving us our daily bread. The Word of the Day is “daily.”

The Lord’s Prayer (a.k.a. Pater Noster or Our Father) shows up twice in the Gospels. Now, I’m certainly no Bible scholar, but as I understand it, in Matthew 6:11 and Luke 11:3, Jesus is teaching his disciples the correct way to pray. “Our Father, in heaven, hallowed be thy name” and all that stuff, and then “Give us this day our daily bread…” Now, I always thought the Bible was originally written in Hebrew or Aramaic, but Henry explained to me that the Gospels in the New Testament were written in Greek. And the Greek adjective to describe that bread we’re supposed to pray for is “epiousion.” It only appears in the Bible twice, in those two mentions of the Lord’s Prayer in Matthew and Luke. “Give us this day our epiousion bread. In fact, the word doesn’t show up in any other Greek texts, either. It appears nowhere else. So there’s lots of debate about the actual meaning. Did Matthew and Luke just make it up?

The traditional English translation of “epiousion” is “daily,” but there’s another Greek word for daily, “hemera” that appears throughout the New Testament. If Matthew and Luke wanted to write about “daily” bread, why not use that word?

Some scholars say “epiousion” means “super-essential” or “super-substantial” (the “ousia” part means “substance”). That could lead us down a rabbit hole of transubstantiation – you know, the whole “This wafer (bread) is really the body of Christ. Now eat it!”

An Egyptian papyrus once believed to be from the fifth century appears to be a grocery shopping list that supposedly included the word “epiousi” before several items, and that was believed to mean “enough for today” or “enough for the next day.” But modern scholars think that was probably just an error in transcription.

Since scholars have nothing better to do than argue about this stuff, other interpretations of epiousion include: necessary, necessary for life, for the coming day, for the future, for our sustenance, or for our being. Any way you look at it, that is some hard-working bread! Which is the “correct” interpretation? As far as I’m concerned, that’s between you and the Lord.

Okay, that takes care of the “daily” part of the Lord’s Prayer, but what about the bread? Are we talking leavened or unleavened? White or wheat (or rye or pumpernickel)? Plain or toasted? It’s all too much for me. I think I’ll go make a sandwich. Hold the bread.

[haleviyah]

PoC was such a wasted concept of a movie. I mean the atmosphere, the costumes, the acting were so good, a cut above the rest of Christan medias, WHY it had to be gratuitous violent and (knowingly or not) antisemitic? The Jesus portrayed by Caviezel is my favourite but it would have been ten thousand better if Gibson didn't focused only on the Passion.

I will refute that.

For 2002-2004 Hollywood, the film was impressive. Mind you this film was written and finished before the Writer's Guild Strike of 2003! So it dodged a bullet to a degree, because think about it: If the film was written AFTER that strike (let's say 2008 or 2010), Gibson and the writers wouldn't have as much freedom with the script as they did between 1999-2002. Despite its religious hiccups and habits the film exposed the audience to Aramaic despite being broken and slow as according to some communities in the Middle East who have seen the film. Let's face it, Aramaic wouldn't have been introduced to Catholic communities in Latin and South America had it not been for Gibson's stubbornness.

As someone with rich Mexican and Roman Catholic heritage the film was a reminder to us on Pope John Paul II's plea to respect and honour the Jews. Remember, Latin America is staunchly sensitive to the Hebrews and we still have a generation that lived through both an anti-semitic pope and then suddenly transition to a pro-semitic pope whilst witnessing the birth of the State of Israel in 1948. Most of that generation believed apocalypse was upon them after hearing the news and prayed for penance. We literally thought we were screwed...

Now to answer your question: There is a saying in warfare

"You cannot pick your armies."

This aspect applies for major passion projects, and you have to work with what you have whilst divorcing slothful habits of being a begging chooser. Yes, Gibson is a piece of work but just because we so happen to disagree does not make me obligated to hate him as a person. I mean, who else can you think of that can rock the boat just as efficiently as the Aussie SOB can?

Franklin Graham? The dude failed witnessing to Japan.

Kirk Cameron? Too picky for his own good on his worst days, and has worse "anti-semetic" films under his belt ('Left Behind' Series).

Kendrick Brothers? Every other film is an unnecessary emotional parade.

Roma Downey? Too damn soft and probably has a man-made spine forged from "angel dust".

The reason why the film 'Passion of the Christ' had to be rough and gritty is to show people the precariousness of life - your decisions have consequences. Hell, my series "Rose of Sharon" is gruesome for the same reasons! Get mad at me too if you don't like gore because it's going to be in there (LMAO).

Regardless of the zeitgeist you are born into, your choices do have consequences, every action equals to an equal and opposite reaction and it's up you to either run from it or learn from it.

But when I take a step back and breathe from all this, the appendix of this is I'd rather stop answering questions about others' projects. I'm too tired to rant over something that cannot be changed. Begging for such is just as futile and counterproductive as constantly mourning over a family member resting.

I'd rather move forward.

I'd rather answer questions that focus on "Rose of Sharon" and where that is going to go. I mean we have so much planned the series that has yet to be shared. The series is more than rebellion against religion, it's a series that focuses on growth, coming out of your comfort zone, healing, and most of all knowing and accepting who you ought to be rather than caving into what others want you to be. And we do need a message like that these days where peer pressure is seen as "G-d's will". The series is a unique hybrid that has only peaked its dorsal fin, but I want to share more when it's time!

I want people to have fun with "Rose of Sharon", and also to walk away with something relatable at least.

Joshua (Yehoshua) is in no way trying to trump the "Yeshua" from PoC, nor belittle "Jesus" from "The Bible Series", nor replace "The Prince of Peace" commission my Akiane despite his design being made to defy or play around with such ideas. He's an individual that is living and breathing in a way that astoundingly leaves people guessing where he is going to go for once. He's unpredictable in a healthy way for once since this series launched in 2016. And I believe Josh and the entire project of RoS would work best when not being compared so much to other projects so early in development. I mean, such a habit nearly killed the project in the begging and I respectively would rather not repeat that mistake in 2023 or beyond.

[icanttalkimhavingacrisis]

short story - Nothing in the Chest [CW - murd3r]

It seemed to be a casual day, Monday like any other, until I opened the door and saw an ancient wooden chest just on my front door. Needless to say, I found the package immensely puzzling, and despite my best intentions could not resist bringing it into my home. I was strongly aware of the fact that I was not expecting a package on that Monday, nay, I was never expecting a package like that beautiful, wooden chest, but I could not just leave it on my doorstep! Oh no, if I had left it, some accursed vagabond would surely steal it, and either destroy its intricate inscriptions or pawn it for a few shillings. No, It was surely better for the package to be brought into my home.

I sat in my armchair, sipped on my coffee and stared at the chest. It was mesmerising, its beauty greater than anything I had ever seen in my life. I peered at the inscriptions on it; evidently an ancient language, possibly a dialect of aramaic. I took out my magnifier and set down to rewrite the text onto paper, so as to easier translate. I did not finish an undergraduate degree in ancient languages for nothing after all. After an hour or so, I had the full script translated. ‘A life for a life, death is the way – learn to catch up with life’. Over and over again, the sentence was repeated, a total of 48 times.

The chests clasp was golden, from what I could tell, pure golden. The lock was a tubular pin tumbler lock, with a star shaped keyhole. I whipped out my lockpicking set. To heck with my work, to heck with the world! This is what I lived for! Mystery, intrigue, ancient stories yet to be uncovered. This is why I chose to study archeology and anthropology for my PhD, this is why I moved to louisiana. The thrill is what I live for, what I seek every single day. I slaved over the chest for another two hours or so, till around midday, before I finally broke the lock. I lifted the lid of the heavy wooden chest (most probably oak based) and peered into it.

The moment I opened the box, a whisper escaped, and inside I saw Nothing. A thick, pitch-black, beautiful, mesmerising Nothing. I could not pull myself from the Nothing. It swallowed me whole, became me, and I it.

I was Nothing and I was in the Nothing. I could not feel the passage of time, it did not exist to me. All there was was Nothing. And suddenly there was a Voice. ‘Death is the way’, it hissed into my ear. ‘a life for life’. And out of nowhere there was Something, Everything. There was a blinding light, and then red. I knew who I was again, I was myself, a Something. And my hands were blood-covered, the room was covered in red. I was wading in blood, someone else’s blood. I took a look down, and at my feet was a warm body, 30 years old, female. In my hand was a dagger. The murder weapon, undoubtedly. I had murdered someone. I had stolen the most precious of all gifts – the gift of life. And yet the remainder of the Nothing inside of me was pleased. ‘good’, it said. ‘A life for a life. Hers for ours. Catch up with us’. I ran.

I don’t see the decision to run as an act of cowardice – more… self preservation. I had so much more to give to the world, and I knew that from behind the bars of a prison cell I could not change the world. So I ran. As fast as my legs would carry me. I jumped into the river and swam from one end to the other to wash the blood off myself. Lucky me, I must admit, as the water in Louisiana is much warmer than the lakes I swam in in the winter back in York county. I got out and kept running. Lucky me, again, as I was York county’s national triathlon champion, winning first place every season while I lived there. I got to my house, mainly dry from the summer air and turned on the lights. I only then realised it was night-time. Strange, as the last I remembered was midday. I carefully cleaned the dagger of any residue and placed it in a plastic bag, hiding it in the vault behind the landscape painting over my mantelpiece.

I did not understand. I did not know why I was given the accursed, yet mesmerizingly beautiful chest. The universe works in mysterious ways, and the regular human being cannot possibly hope to understand them. But now I know. I know what the box was, what I unleashed unto the world when I opened it. It took me decades of studies and research. I uncovered ancient civilizations and arcane knowledge that in times of old only prophets would attain. I understood that I had unleashed hell upon the earth. That chest was my Pandora’s box, and the sacrifice demanded, the necessary exchange for the life of the eldritch terrors that it held.

That is the testimony I received. I hadn’t had an idea what I was going to do with it. This was a respected, well renowned scientist we were talking about, and the murder case he testified for had gone cold over 60 years ago. Another matter – Dr. Stone couldn’t have killed Mary Jane, hell, Dr. Stone couldn’t have been alive at the same time as Mary Jane. It just wasn’t possible. Still, I entered the testimony into the system and moved Dr. Stone to a temporary detainment chamber. I went back home.

It seemed to be a casual day, Monday like any other, until I opened the door and saw an ancient wooden chest just on my front door.