#sakem

[feketeribizli]

2024 i might finally get back into reading starting with whatever is the last installment of the pjo books. been putting that off cause i heard my favourite guy fucking dies in it

[sylvite-sylvite]

My incredible furby Christmas tree in my dorm room minus sakem as he is at home

[sclfmastery]

thoughts, s15 finale

GOOD: --RTD's trademark emphasis on the crucial nature of ordinary people, because we imbue each other with significance and nothing is more alive and human. --Ncuti's best acting in maybe his whole career was in this episode. --The best writing as far as the Doctor being Doctory, while still uniquely 15, was also in this episode. The moment with the amnesiac mother was the best moment in the entire season for this. Acting, again, enhanced this significantly. --Normally I think nostalgia for nostalgia's sakem put in the hands of consumer capitalists, is the death of creativity, but Mel was a good choice; someone recognized Ruby and the Doctor didn't have quite enough on-screen lore of their own. --The Doctor facing that he had "caused" the entire universe to be killed and grappling with the guilt of making his traveling "fun" when there was a greater responsibility to wielding TARDIS technology across time and space. --Mrs. Flood. And no, I don't think she's a Master. Way too obvious, particularly the ending. But I also doubt she's an ally. She'll be a fun antagonist or at least complication. --Kate Stewart and her whole team.

BAD: --Massive buildup and anticlimactic, too-easy resolution (bring death to death is a very cool idea, but maybe achieve it a touch more simply), some empty spaces where character development could have been stronger and the jumping-right-into-danger could have been less frequent.... all of which I think can be attributed to squeezing an ambitious subplot into only 8 episodes, 2 of which were Doctor-lite. Certainly Ncuti Gatwa isn't to blame for being busy and successful during filming time. --The whole "You win, Sutekh" scene. The Doctor has killed millions intentionally already. Usually attention is drawn to the hypocrisy of "I bring life" (btw, Rose shout-out???) , eg Boom Town, End of Time Part 2, etc. And the Doctor is best when showing humility about that, while trying to be a champion of life by striving to be a better person than he was yesterday. This didn' t translate that nuance (or many others) terribly well. --People are going to say this is my bias but the conspicuous omission of the Master even from scenes where their existence almost HAD to be mentioned....feels awkward and strange.

--On that note, the Doctor insisting on not visiting his granddaughter. "Maybe someday" bitch why not NOW? At least give a reason for what's stopping you. I have many theories (still grappling with misplaced guilt for instance) but that in an episode about how Ruby's birthparents should have contacted her sooner felt clunky and forced.

[saphushia]

Hi hi Saph! I am here to also give music recommendations, because while I'm very sure you would be a very nice undead person, I do not want you to die. So!

Yesterday I was listening to Interlude IV (Showtime) by Zack Callison and Grace Rolek until it lost all meaning, so that is my first recommendation. It had me fixating on how I would animate one of my OCs going off on another OC, if I knew how to animate :D so I guess it's a good story song if you can associate it with someone!

My second recommendation is the Noragami OST album by Iwasaki Taku (岩崎琢)! I put down his name in Japanese because you might be using Spotify, and Noragami OST isn't under his name in English, which is odd but it's okay because Noragami OST slaps. Iwasaki combined multiple music genres to get a really unique, compelling sound and I love it! There's another album for the second season that has some goodies, but it's a little more boring.

My third and final recommendation, because I wouldn't be me if I didn't give you a song rec in a different language, is Geççek by Tarkan! Geççek is short for geçeçek, meaning 'it will pass,' and was written to tell people during the pandemic that hey! Times are really horrible right now! But you'll get through it and you'll be alright!

Okay that's all from me, oof this ask is a big long ^^; nourish and hydrate yourself, stretch, get your eyes off the screen for a bit, take care of yourself! Have a good timezone!

oooo!! these are all really cool!! i can def see how interlude IV would fit great for oc animatics, and Geççek is very neat!! esp with the added information abt it!! but most of all, holy shit the noragami OST- i'll be totally honest i was skeptical when i saw it, but GOOD GOD. this is like. my dream digimon soundtrack aubdsfkjg. it's the perfect mix of electronic and more traditional (is that the right word? the best i've got rn lmao) sounds that's just soooo unique you're so right. i haven't listened to the whole album yet but you can bet your ass i'm gonna!! (also wow this has reminded me how damn long it's been since i saw noragami akjbdskjfg)

Marmalade -by- Gallus ONE PIECE "WANOKUNI" ost (it's not as high of a banger % as the noragami ost but good god there's some good ones in there, you can kinda skip around if u want cause it's a lot lmao. the pieces that use traditional instruments like shamisen are soooo good tho) Sakeme no Me -by- cali=gari

[banyumanik-05]

Babinsa Kel. Srondol Kulon (Peltu Nurwahyudi) bersama Bhabinkamtibmas melaksanakan pendampingan Peresmian *Jalan Sendang Sakem Penenang hati* di Rt 06 RW 02 Kel Srondol Kulon Kec.Banyumanik.

[kurumiiko]

hi

Soshite mata tamago ga kaeru

Futari wa mata onnaji ike de

Umarete oyogidashita

Sore kara sugu ni shinda

Hotondo no ikimono no

Hotondo no akanbou to

Onnaji onnaji you ni

Kawa ga tokete niku ga kuzure

Osoto to boku no sakai

Kiete tokihanatarete

Boku wa sora takaku fukuranda

Hoshi yori dekkaku fukuranda

Uchuu no hashi made panpan

Kyuukutsu de mou fukuramenai

Sore demo okkiku iki sutte

Fukurami tsuzukeru rourou to

Suru to uchuu ni hibi hairu

Pakipaki wareta dondon warete

Sono sakeme kara soto ni kao ga deta

Soko wa onnaji ike no naka

Soshite mata tamago ga kaeru

Shinde umarete umarete shini

Aru toki futari kaeru ni naru

Boku to kimi wa aishiatta

Tamago wo unde mizu ga hiita

Bokura wa karakara hikarabita

Kuroku kataku nari kona ni nari

Tsuchi ni natta bokura wa

Rourou to ookiku fukuramu

Futari wa mata onnaji ike de

Hajikete oyogidashita

Uchuu ga pakipaki warete

Mugen no tamago to ike

Futari wa umare kaeru

Eien ni eien ni…

Ha!

Rourou rourou mawaru yo futatsu no tamashii

Rourou rourou warau yo mawaru uzu no naka de

Roar roar Roar roar sakebu yo kaeru no uta wo

Rourou rou rouya ya iyaiya ai no uzu wa mawaru

Rourou rourou mawaru yo futatsu no tamashii

Rourou rourou warau yo mawaru uzu no naka de

Roar roar Roar roar sakebu yo kaeru no uta wo

Rourou rou rouya ya iyaiya ai no uzu wa mawaru

Rarara…

Eien ni eien ni eien ni eien ni

[baykala-blog]

" Esiyor tane tane yine beyaz bir rüzgâr. Söyleyin hangi kuşun kanatları yolundu? Yine hangi ağaçtan döküldü bu yapraklar? Yağan beyaz bir sükût, bir mahşerdir sanki kar! Bir hicret sevdasıdır ruhumu sardı yine. Ruhum gibi pervasız yoldaşlar da bulundu. Ruhum karıştı gitti bu kar tanelerine; şimdi yağan kar değil, ruhumdur kar yerine. ...." C.S.TARANCI : : : : : #baykala #alibaykala #safranbolu #baykalacom #photography #sakem #fotoğrafçekimikursu #dahaazıylayetinme #500px #turkiyefotografcilarkulubu #instagood #instasize #instamood #anadolugram #moon #startrails #canon #canonturkiye #liveforthestory #kulturportali #night #çevre #çevreyesaygı #canonTurk #letsguide #baharolsun #yazgelsin #coronabitsin #winter (Safranbolu, Karabük, Turkey) https://www.instagram.com/p/CJEnQJFsm4S/?igshid=xv3lnangrmqa

[hisliharikalarkumpanyasi]

Üretmek iyidir... #sakem #safranbolu #karabük #türkiye #safranboluevi #elişi #nakış #suzeni #hisliharikalarkumpanyasi #hislifotoğraflar #turkey #ig_photo #handmade #sibelozer #instatürk #hayat #life #happy #aşk #şiir (Safranbolu) https://www.instagram.com/p/BpRSuHXBeuf/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1e473bcg7marf

[it-ymmik]

HC on where Ozpin MAY be hiding the Beacon Relic:

My most longstanding theory is that the relic is hidden in the ruins of The Emerald Forest from season 1. This is the first time we see the chess motif come into play, one that we see throughout the series, and this is where the decision/choice is made that creates the teams using various chess pieces - coincidence that Beacon holds the The Relic of Choice?

(and additionally I think they may need to use The Long Memory to access the vault - if you squint the vine spiral pattern in the stone is reminiscent of the part engraved on the handle and Oz is quite protective of it [but then again he's had it for years])

but like, go nuts and share where/how you think Oz hid the relic!

[pawnshopsouls]

Bonely and Sal... handsom e.... smoochable lads...

Bonely just beams. “Yes we are!”

Salem just blinks in surprise. “I am???” He seems genuinely bewildered.

[twicefoundconfessions]

I will be so sad when this arg ends, I love the world and characters so much.

submitted by all of us

[newsfastly]

Luca Frigeni, who owns Shanghai restaurant SakeMate, on coronavirus impact Luca Frigeni, Owner & General Manager of SakeMate, a restaurant in Shanghai SakeMate Luca Frigeni, an Italian businessman living in Shanghai, finally fulfilled his dream late last year when he opened his own restaurant and lounge.

[reputaytion-staytion]

There's always this short period of time after a new Taylor Swift album release where for a few days, I can only listen to nothing but that new album, can't even listen to older albums without feeling weird. And then when you eventually listen to something else, it feels like you're being thrown back into reality or something...

[yourdeepestfathoms]

for anyone curious, my newest book is about the Salem Witch Trials! it’s at the point of view of Mary Warren and how she went through trials, ultimately ending in her downward spiral into madness as the trials deteriorate her mental health. it’s called Servant of Evil.

here’s the first segment of the first chapter!

— — —

She was gathering crops the first day she caught wind of the hysteria.

It was late January and sunny, the last warm day in what would soon feel like forever. The sickle in her hand was wickedly sharp and gleaming in pale yellow light, and the stalks of the corn she was cutting away were rough and sharp beneath calloused fingers. Already, the skin on her hands was shredded, oozing ruby droplets of blood and staining bright green stems. Her legs ached from crouching in the dirt, muscles locked up and tense. Somewhere beyond the pillars of corn stretched out before her, she could hear her master’s children talking in high-pitched voices, dogs barking, and horses neighing. Even closer than that, however, she could hear heavy footsteps tramping through the field, and she knew the owner of this land would not enjoy such galumphing through his crops. But she also knew that the one who appeared through the stalks wouldn’t care much for the fiery point of John Proctor’s scorn.

“Something weirdish is going on in Salem.”

Without looking up, Mary Warren answered the unexpected visitor, “Something is always going on in Salem.”

That much was true, at least right now. Salem was a town of rich trade and sea salt, characterized by a sparkling harbor that was bested only by Boston’s and a habit of fighting with itself. For years, Salem had been split between two forces: the nobles up in Salem Town and the farmers down in Salem Village. The two territories were never not fighting with each other; they were always mad about something the other did, and it was easy to lose track of who hated who and for what reason. Salem Village didn’t like the control Salem Town held over it, while Salem Town was annoyed by Salem Village thinking it was its own settlement, but they all detested the British church, which was mutual. Salem Town often pulled men from Salem Village to be a part of the national guard, which made Salem Village nervous because then they would have nobody to protect them, and Indian attacks were a regular fear throughout the civilization. Aside from its harbor, the other thing Salem had to owe to its popularity was its unfortunate position in front of frequent ambushes. And if it didn’t suffer ambushes first-hand, then it suffered ambushes through the survivors of such raids, many of which populated the city and would soon help with the grisly events that turned the community over on its head.

But the only other thing Salem Village and Salem Town could agree on was that the Indians were an issue. Unfortunately, that was where agreements ended and arguments began- Salem Town wanted more men to train, promising protection; Salem Village refusing, saying they knew how Salem Town lied, and if they didn’t, then they only saved them because of their bountiful trade and not because they were their people. It wouldn’t be long until the yelling broke out, testaments from the Bible were quoted, and grown men argued like two children fighting over who was their parents’ favorite kid.

However, Salem as a whole had fallen silent recently. Things were peaceful. It was as though a grace period were opening up before them all--or, perhaps, it was actually ending.

Except for right now, in the Proctor corn field, of course. Because her visitor would only bring silence if she were dead, and she had proved to be too slippery for death’s fingers three times over after surviving several Indian attacks throughout her young life.

“This is different.”

Wiping a sagging green sleeve over her damp brow, Mary looked up and squinted through sweat and sun to look at none other than the Putnam’s maid, Mercy Lewis.

Mercy was a fine example of everything the Puritans didn’t want. Despite her name’s sake, she was stubborn, brash, and spitfire, though she was smart enough to never act in such a way in front of the church. And she was, indeed, smart. She was more clever than a fox, easily outwitting several situations despite the minimal education women had in their lifetime. The only thing she was merciful to was her younger cousin, Ann Putnam Jr. Her parents were better off naming her Big, Loud, and Vulgar.

Mercy was nineteen-years-old, two years older than Mary, and built like a small bear. She was short, compact, and sinewy, her muscles and joints well-honed from rough maid work. Her temper was black and her teeth were sharp. Her curly dark brown hair was tucked up in her blindingly white bonnet, and she was dressed in a nondescript dress of purple. Storm cloud grey eyes bore down on Mary with bright amusement.

The two of them met three years ago in Elizabeth Proctor’s tavern. Mary had been struggling to wipe away a sticky stain on one of the tables; Mercy was looking for fresh meat. They both were in the right place at the right time.

Mary hadn’t heard her come in. It was as though the shadows of the tavern itself had unfolded the sixteen-year-old before her because she was suddenly there, towering over the front of the table, and Mary ended up spilling the bowl of soapy water she was using all over herself upon noticing her.

“My, are you jumpy,” the strange girl had observed, peering over the edge of the table. She didn’t offer Mary her help or even an apology. Mary didn’t ask for one. “Were your parents murdered by savages, too?”

“What?”

“Ooo, no, then. Got it.”

Mary blinked up at her for a moment, then carefully got up out of the sudsy puddle and retrieved a dry rag to clean up the newest mess. The entire time, the strange girl watched her as she dripped droplets and beads of white soap from the bottom of her old lavender dress.

“Can I help you?” Mary asked as she got back down on her hands and knees to clean the floor.

“Oh, no,” the strange girl answered. “I just came to say hello. Introduce myself. You work for the Proctor’s, yeah?”

“Yes,” Mary nodded.

“Interesting, interesting. I work for the Putnam’s. Thomas is my cousin, actually.”

Mary nodded again. She looked back down at the puddle, trying to focus on that. The girl didn’t move.

“Mercy.”

Mary looked back up again. She blinked. The strange girl blinked back. Was this a game?

“Pity.”

The girl stared at her for a moment, then burst into loud laughter that seemed to shake the walls. Mary was startled; she had never heard anyone laugh so hard in her entire life. Especially in a town as strict as Sakem.

“No, that’s my name,” the girl said after calming down. “My name is Mercy. Mercy Lewis.”

“Oh,” Mary’s ears heated up. “Right. Your parents were feeling pretty creative, weren’t they?”

Another bout of laughter. “Yes. Yes, they were.” She squinted at her. “And you are?”

“Mary. Mary Warren.”

“Well, Mary ‘Pity’ Warren, I think we are going to be very good friends.”

And she was right.

Mercy, as menacing as she could be, made life in Salem a lot more bearable, especially when Proctor’s whip frequently began lapping at Mary’s bare back. Together, they formed a cohort of sorts, sneaking away into the woods with other village girls, hiding away from the Lord’s watchful eyes to discuss the most sinful of things.

And today, Mercy wanted to carry on with their long-running traditions.

“Different in what way?” Mary asked.

Mercy rolled her eyes. She kicked a cloud of dust at Mary, and Mary sputtered, nearly falling backwards into the corn.

“Different-different,” Mercy answered. “Something is wrong with Abigail. Betty, too, I hear. We’re gonna go up to the Reverend’s house and see them. They’re ill, you know?”

“No,” Mary shook her head. “Mister Proctor didn’t tell me anything. They’re sick?”

“Yeah. Real sick. Ain’t wakin’ up. The Reverend has been throwin’ a huge fit over them.” Mercy explained, “I’m surprised you never heard him howlin’!” Then, doing a horrible imitation of Reverend Samuel Parris’s voice, she wailed, “Oh Betty, Betty! Wake, my sweet daughter! Wake! Why won’t you wake?!”

She clung to Mary’s arm dramatically. “God! God! Why have you forsaken me?! What have you struck my little girls with?!”

Mary couldn’t help but giggle softly. Still, her mind was made up on the whole ordeal.

“Tell them my pardons and prayers,” she said, grabbing the fallen sickle. “My master said I gotta tend to the crops. Then I can go to town. But I am not spendin’ my free time meddlin’ in someone else’s affairs.”

Mercy groaned loudly and snatched the sickle away from Mary, making her yelp.

“Live a little, will ya? Let’s go see poor Abby and Betty!” Mercy urged. “To Hell with your master right now. You can’t let him lead you around by a leash all the time. Deal with the consequences later. Let’s go!”

Mary stared into the older girl’s eyes and then sighed, giving in. She stood up- Mercy was taller than her, as she always had been. “Lead on, Mercy.”

Mercy brightened.

Together, the two of them snuck out of the Proctor property, careful as to not get caught by one of the many children roaming the plantation.

Technically, the Proctor’s had eighteen children, though four were dead and eleven were brought forth by two different women, both of which had also passed over the seasons. The only living child of John Proctor’s first wife, Martha Giddens, was Benjamin, a tall, lanky man who could never seem to grow a beard, yet had hair down to his shoulders. He was thirty-three and didn’t talk to Mary very often, but when he did, he greatly critiqued her work in the field. That farm was his pride and joy, and it was a challenge to not roll her eyes when he would go on about the importance of their crops and proper plant care.

Elizabeth II was the second oldest at twenty-nine, and helped Elizabeth Proctor run the tavern with her other siblings: Martha IV, twenty-six (the first two Martha’s had died when they were both infants, along with the woman they were named after); Mary II, twenty-five; John II, twenty-four; Mary III, twenty-three; and Thorndike, twenty. Why Proctor decided to have TWO daughters named Mary was beyond Mary herself, but it wasn’t uncommon for things to become confusing when their name was shouted for whatever reason.

Elizabeth Proctor’s children stayed on the farm, helping clean and take care of the livestock: William, eighteen; Sarah fifteen; Samuel, seven; Elisha, five; Abigail, three; and Joseph, one. Mercy often made jokes that Elizabeth had obviously been the one to name the kids, as they were actually creative and not repeating several times over.

But with so many watchmen on the property, Mary was surprised about how easy it was to slip away unseen.

The road was loose and crunched loudly beneath their footfalls. Mercy kept kicking a rock, and Mary watched it bounce across the ground.

“So, what’s wrong with Betty and Abby?” Mary asked.

Mercy smirked widely.

“There be witches about, Mary.”

[monsters00km]

So... I'm having this thought. What if Cinder wins. She gets the relic of creation, and she somehow passes it off to Watts/Neo. But in scuffle she falls with RWBY into into abyss.

Neo gives Watts the Relic bc she gets what she wasn't, Ruby dead. And now Sakem has both relics....

But that makes Cinder the girl in the fairytale. What did Ozoin say? A girl fell through the world to a magical place. But never learned from her mistakes and the concenquences of her actions just spread.

Cinder falls and has to learn the real lessons she should have been learning from the start. But to do that she has to deal with with consequences of her actions. Which is more than her killing people, she gave the relics to Salem. And she has to fight to figure out how to stope her

[gacougnol]

Emi Anrakuji Chasm - Sakeme