#this is all in jest unless it Isnt

[elfrootenthusiast]

Lmao I don’t know if Hugh Grant counts as a niche dilf. He’s… he’s an extremely well established dilf. People thirst over him quite regularly haha

perhaps so.............................. but not Enough

[nomaishuttle]

i wishi could take a showr withiut all of it being. in my face you know

[btnclmrttn]

Saitama x Neko reader. Who is flirty yet when he gets flirty they freeze on their spot and covers their face. Do it. 😈

How is it my first ask is discribing the literal one shot I wrote when I was 16 on Wattpad 😭

But thank you v much I'm excited that you were my first ask! I've been uploading everyone else's first cause I was worried about getting behind and I was overthinking. I hope this satisfies. Again thanks for your patience!!!!

Cheater (Neko!Reader)

~~~~

A little thump of a controller bounces beside you for about the third time now.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?"

A laughter erupts out of your chest targeting your god awful teammate rage quitting beside you, "Yeah, seriously? I gotta revive you again? You're awful!"

"Be quiet."

"Nah," you say, swatting your tail at his side, "If I gotta carry the round I can say what I want."

He grumbles as you try to make your way past the enemies to revive him before he kicks the bucket. Granted you could likely survive without him, it wouldn't teach him how to do shit.

It was a decent way to pass the time on a hot day, playing a game you rented to try out. It isnt dry heat either it's fucking moist heat. Where you're constantly sticky with sweat and itchy and nothing helps unless you're locked inside with an ac.

Somehow your friend survived without it through his training. Probably sweated all his hair out that way.

"I'm thinking you suck on purpose so you can get me to come after you," you jest.

Saitama picks his controller back up once he's been revived by a nearby player, "Why would I do that?"

"You just really like my attention, huh?"

A scoff returns your teasing remark, "Oh, yeah, totally."

"It's either that or you're just a hopeless case."

"I'd shoot you if we weren't on the same team."

Another gunshot echos the speakers. Saitama is once again out for the count. Your laughter bubbles out of your chest as the man let's out an array of profanities.

A finger jabs your shoulder in the middle of your giggle fit, Saitama demanding, "You knock that off! I don't laugh at you when you die!"

"Aw, you're so cute when you're mad!" you coo as you run back to revive him.

"Don't-!" Saitama stops himself momentarily in a bit of a fluster, "-just shut up!"

"Make me!" You say as you stick your tongue out to him before turning back to the game.

"Make you?" He asks, "Fine. Turn the game off and come here."

That statement sends a little surprise through you. He's gotta be joking. Dude hasn't ever had the balls to say something like that.

Ignoring him, you continue to play the game, carrying the round as usual. A pair of eyes are burning against your neck, you can feel. He's now staring.

"I know you heard me," his says, as he scoots closer, "Turn it off. I'll make you."

"Yeah, right!" you reply, only half certain with your confidence,"Rounds almost over, anyway. We can play a new game after."

"Come on," he presses, leaning in closer to your ear, "Turn it off, ____. I'll give you what you want."

Your shoulders hike up as a hand starts to run up your spine slowly, stopping just behind your twitching ears. Fingers trace just along the base, starting a petting motion.

Your breath begins to struggle to exhale from your chest, flaring with a heat that engulfs your face.

All your attention now set on the tingling sensation of Saitama's teasing touch.

Till an echo rings in the room once more.

"AHA! SEE THAT? YOU DIED!" Saitama cries out, laughing the loudest you've ever heard from him. Rather forced to emphasize his triumph.

Ruining the moment.

"I-It don't count if you were distracting me-!"

"Aht!" He interrupts pulling away completely, "Excuses! You lose!"

"Ugh...asshole."

"You. lose." he repeats as he enters in a new round, "and if I had known it was that easy to "distract" you, I would have started doing this a while ago."

"Now that's just cheating!" You cry out while following him into the game.

"Can't take it, don't dish it out," Saitama says nonchalantly with a shrug.

"I'm not reviving you this round," you grumble.

[t-underneaththeradardancing]

morning yah the usual  -  sleepwalk thru the motions til  - not that imma b blase’ - an apostrophe not ague accent on my keyboard then again this isnt paris  - the root of blah - mansplain digression   - depression - overshadow by magic for a minute in the now -  a kitty of course - a good one - always  - a crow - then a a pair  - to visit not feed  - coffee - biscotti  -  a day  -yah imma take like i got choices  - a hallelujah - anyway - muscle memory method act til bee leaf  - imma tree or - a rock maybe - next time - something substantial and slow moving - like flat top - is that an aspirational motivation or is tea  jest fukked up  - not 2 early - its noon - somewhere - one from column 1 and from column B  we be - deep space soon come but not as much as u might - o wait - its frog friday and aliens abounding - all bets r off  - unless thats a wild card i seeing round the corner then - all in - betting on love for the win  - cuz itsa beautiful world imma told - with or without - rose colored contacts  - even when - as they will - things get  fucked up  - we keep walking  - workin onna building - playing - skating - praying - not to santa claus no laundry list conditions  - life’s terms 

unless t lets his - entitled man baby out - then all bets off lol - but factual - and believe me it aint pretty  

[uwuowotf2waslife]

Sniper headcanon

( @kangaroo-sniper-imagine your post made my peanut brain work beyond the borders of the fandom, thanks frend)

Sniper isnt as of a loner as we all think

He isnt a party animal like Demo or a social butterfly like Scout, but he isnt the shy recluse all we pissman-wannabe-waifus consider him to be.

While not a talker, he is a very perceptive man. He knows how to approach businesses transaction's and basic theater so he can avoid jail time or enemies/police/etc. He can be very charming if he wants to, he isnt as suave or charming as Spy would be in a hypothetical simmilar scenario,but he will get his job done and call it day.

I think in the team dynamic he isnt as isolated as you think he is, he has to inform when the sentry/medic/tank/whatever have you is down and observe his teammates very closely to discover cloaked spies.

In the comics we see Sniper as a good friend with Scout and somewhat on friendly terms with Spy, and in general he seems like the type of bloke who although doesnt speak much he jests, drinks and plays poker with the rest of the gang and when he isnt, he just enjoys the company of his mates on his own special way but he will never shake the house with his laughter or speak more than a paragraph per hour unless he is extremely stressed or something extremely dramatic has happend or hes talking with his mum and pop on the phone like the lanky stringbean he is ❤️

[grandhotelabyss]

A good essay from someone who’s published in more high-profile outlets than I have. It’s barely occurred to me to submit anywhere in over a year. Publications no longer offer sufficient recompense for what they make you give up in independence and—please excuse the following obscene language—personal brand building.

Proving our author’s point, I didn’t recognize his name when I first encountered a link to this piece on social media; but in reading it I remembered that I’d read and enjoyed several of his pieces over the years, like his insightful review of City on Fire (remember City on Fire? I don’t either). We’re in a new world: you want your name to be the name readers remember when they love your writing, not the title of some superannuated legacy media publication run by the righteous 25-year-olds who dominate the Slack channel or, on the other side of the political ledger, as in one of the author’s examples, some religious minions of Peter Thiel.

“But don’t writers need editors?” some people inquire of the independent publisher. No. The editor is a mid-20th-century myth. Back when they wouldn’t even let you be a writer unless you were hopelessly addicted to alcohol and amphetamines—it was once thought terribly glamorous—you needed Max Perkins, Pat Covici, Bob Gottlieb, and other such genial fellows to put your manuscript in order. This myth should have stopped commanding anyone’s faith when whoever was responsible for sorting out the undifferentiated heap of gems and offal we call Infinite Jest shirked the task and left us all with a mess in our hands. Anyway, who was Dante’s editor, or Shakespeare’s? You don’t need an editor; you just need some objectivity, some taste, and some friends. 

(Aside: why don’t I use SubStack? I don’t say I never will, and I’ll have some announcements soon about future projects the platform details of which I haven’t decided yet, but provisionally I believe anything that comes as email is soon resented and then ignored. I subscribe to very few ’Stacks, yet they’re already—please forgive me—stacking up in my inbox. A part of me also rebels at charging a fee for online writing. Audio and video is one thing, and real physical paper books, well, you should pay for those—please buy mine!—but text onscreen wants to be free.)

Our author doesn’t even mention what I call the apology problem. If some publication or some press does choose to disseminate your work, and then Twitter (i.e., a dozen or two monomaniacal ideologues) decides you’ve caused “harm,” your publisher will cut you loose in a heartbeat, usually after you’ve issued some strained, humiliating apology that would have made the Red Guards blush. I don’t admire writers who apologize for their work. If you intended ambiguity or irony in any given representation, then there’s nothing to apologize for; on the other hand, if you’re so insensible to contemporary culture that you’ve given grave offense without intending it to people whom you might have expected to read your work, then you don’t know enough to go about your business. In either case, just endure the Tweetstorms in dignified silence.  

Consider my forthcoming novel The Class of 2000. Would I entrust it to a small press vulnerable to such social media mobbing? Why would I bother? I already put the most cancellable chapter online for free so readers know what they can expect. There’s not a thing wrong with that chapter, though. I’m proud of it. I wouldn’t apologize for one word in it if they put me in front of a firing squad. But would a small press see it that way? I no longer care. The name of the game is freedom.

[haroburst]

hello void

how are you today? i hope you’re well and holding on as well as you can because that’s what i’m trying to do. 

i’ve been feeling pretty terrible lately, and it’s been spilling into everything i do like a strange black sludge of spilled coffee. sometimes i wonder if i deserve to have everything i do if i was just going to be this unhappy anyway. today i’ve been wondering whether i actually find my self deprecating funny or if they’re the only way i can get through a conversation without breaking down about how im having a tough time. everyone is having a tough time these days so mine isnt any special or worth listening to unless its something we can laugh at together right? 

anyway thats how i was going about things all this time but lately i dont think the people around me find them funny anymore. my jokes have been falling a bit flat or leading to a change of topic now. its probably annoying being hit with another person’s negativity all the time even if its in jest. i totally get that though, and in a way, i know its good for me to stop making these kinds of jokes anyway for the sake of how i talk to myself. 

but as i’ve started to try to stop using self-deprecating humour in my conversations, i’ve come to realise

that maybe they weren’t for fun but rather

a plea for help 

for someone to ask 

‘hey, are you okay? do you want to talk about it?’ 

because no, i don’t think i am and i really want to talk about it but im too scared to bring it up as a serious topic and not just a funny complaint

and now im scared that by losing my ‘humour’ i’ll lose my only hope in someone seeing through my upbeat chat screen 

[dirt-cup-draco]

Bucky x Reader- Barriers (2/2)

It had been a week since Bucky had left you all alone on the rooftop. You’d gone to bed alone that night and shivered until sleep took you. You thought maybe time would help and the next morning things would be okay again but every time you tried to talk to your boyfriend he was too busy or nowhere to be found. Every text went unanswered. Are we even together anymore? You wanted to ask. Because in all honesty, you had no idea. With no word from him after he had completely shut you out made it seem like he was through with you. And you weren’t ready for that possibility yet. 

You were curled up on the couch sniffling and looking at a picture of you and Buck. You had gone to coney island on a date and you’d convinced him into taking a picture with you as you reached the top of the Ferris wheel. Your lips were pressed firmly to his cheek and he was beaming into the lens. His arm was wrapped securely around you and you could remember how safe you’d felt. Wasn’t he happy with you? Had you done something to drive him away or were you just not enough? 

Your sniffles had turned into full on sobbing and you were glad that the living room was empty and dark. It was two in the morning and most sensible people were asleep. You hoped Bucky was getting some sleep. You let yourself stew in your heartbreak as you gripped the picture in your shaking hands. You loved him, so so much and you wanted to take away all of his pain. You wanted to give him peace. But he didn’t want that. Or did he just not want it from you?

The doubts crept in deep and sunk their claws into you. It was your fault he hadn’t spoken to you all week. It was your fault he was unhappy. It was your fault your relationship was falling apart. Lost in thought, you hadn’t noticed anyone come and you jumped sky high when a hand was set on top of your shoulder. You shouted and spun around, nearly falling off the couch until that same hand gripped your arm tightly to keep you in place. “Y/N, it’s just me, can we talk?” Your heart dropped. It was only Steve. 

“Um, yeah sure,” You sighed, wiping furiously at your eyes as he came around to sit beside you. His eyes took in his surroundings automatically and he took in your pathetic appearance. Swollen, red eyes and a runny nose. Pale skin and tear stained cheeks. Tussled hair and shaking hands. You were beating yourself up pretty hard it seemed. 

“Please be patient with him, he’s trying, really he is,” Steve spoke first and you frowned. 

“I know he is... Did he say something to you?” You questioned back. You thought you’d been patient, thought you’d been doing your best to give him space and time while showing that you were there for him even when things got tough, even when he was scared he didn’t deserve to have someone there for him. 

“No but I can just tell you guys had a little fall out, he’s been a sour bastard for a week straight,” The man chuckled but you couldn’t find any humor in it. 

“Well maybe things would be better if he would stop ignoring me...” You said bitterly, tears springing up again. You tossed your phone in Steve’s lap. “He hasn’t texted me back, any time I go to the gym he leaves, if I’m in the kitchen he makes sure he isn’t. I-I don’t even know if we are together anymore. i haven’t seen him since he left the party. I don’t know what the hell is going on,” 

Admitting it out loud hurt more than you thought and you were reduced back to a sobbing mess. Bucky meant the world to you but how was this supposed to work if he couldn’t even be around you? 

Steve wraps a reassuring arm around you but you just wish that it was Bucky sitting with you. Steve was a good friend, to the both of you and you appreciated it but he really wasn’t helping right now. “I think I’m going to go back to my room... Excuse me,” You said before Steve could interject. You walked around his legs and were on your way back to your room when Steve told you to wait. 

“What if I can get you and Buck to talk?” 

You laughed humorlessly and shrugged. “I doubt he wants to but if you can make it happen Stevie, I’d beg you to teach me how. Goodnight,” You dismissed him with little hope. It was sweet what he was trying to do but you were lonely and sad and unsure and so nothing sounded like it would solve anything. You knew you were being stubborn and probably rude but you weren’t in the mood for it at the moment. It was late- or early- and you just wanted to be grumpy a while longer. 

Three hours later the sun was working it’s way up into the sky and you hadn’t slept one bit. You stumbled out of your room and made a pot of coffee that you planned on drinking all by your lonesome. You weren’t prepared however for your super soldier maybe still boyfriend to be sitting expectantly at the kitchen table, arms crossed. He’d look intimidating if he wasn’t wearing his flannel pajama set you’d gotten him a couple weeks ago. But maybe that was a good sign. He hadn’t burned anything from you yet. 

“Buck,” You said, not sure what else was supposed to come out of your mouth after a long week of trying to understand what was happening. 

“Steve said you wanted to talk,” He mumbled. 

“Yeah well I doubt you needed Steve to tell you that... Unless you’ve stopped checking your phone,” You said with surprising venom. You poured yourself a cup of coffee and after thinking about it for a moment you poured Bucky one too. At least he had the decency to look a little ashamed. He swallowed the lump in his throat and studied you without any explanation. 

“Why?” You prodded. 

“Why what?” He had the gall to ask. 

“Why havent you said anything to me in a week? Why does it take Steve scolding you to get you to even be in the same room as me? Why don’t you trust me? Why can’t I be the person you go to when you need comfort and help? Why did you leave me on the roof when all I was trying to do was help?” You rambled, gripping your mug until your knuckles turned white. You were trying to hold it together but it was becoming increasingly hard. 

“Y/N, it’s not easy to talk about... I get that you want something from me but I can’t give it to you. I’m broken, completely fucked up. I can’t be what you need. This was a mistake,” He said, motioning between you two and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Bucky looked defensive but you let out a distressed whimper and his stern look melted a little. 

“Y-you don’t mean that Buck, this isn’t a mistake, I love you, you l-love me,” You said. You felt pathetic. You were mad until you were scared he was leaving you. You really did love him. You couldn’t imagine your life without him in it. This week had been hell without him. 

His head hung low and he sipped slowly, relishing in the slight burn. He deserved it after all. “You’re better off without me... It doesn’t have anything to do with love, it’s just a fact. You are better off if I end things...” 

“You can’t decide what is good for me and what isnt! I can choose that for myself. Why can’t you see that you are good for me? Why can’t you see I am so much happier when you are with me?” You needed him to realize how much he meant to you, how you would do anything to make him happy. 

“But Y/N-” He started but you pointed your finger in his face. 

“No Bucky, listen to me, please. I love you and I want you in my life. I know that you have been through so much shit in your life that everything is clouded by it. I know that I can’t expect you to just vent to me once and be fine. I know that it isn’t going to all happen at once and that you need time. But you can’t keep shutting people out. I’m not going anywhere. I just want to be there for you so the nights aren’t so hard and the voices tearing you down aren’t so loud, I just want to love you, but we can’t keep going on like this,” You sighed and held your head in your hands. 

“S-so I guess you’re right. Maybe... maybe it would be better if we didn’t see each other anymore. But that’s only if you can’t look me in the eye right now and tell me that next time something happens you won’t run away from me.” You gave him an ultimatum no matter how much it hurt you to say it. “I don’t want this to be the end Bucky, but I need you to let me in.” 

Bucky was still as stone. You reached out and took his hand in yours, brushing your thumb over the top of his knuckles. You stared ahead and he finally turned to look you in the eyes. You tried to convey in one look that you really did love him, you wanted things to go well for you two, you wanted him. Above everything else, you wanted him to know that you would take him faults and all.

“Doll... I love you too. I don’t want this to be over either, god knows youre the best thing that has ever happened to me. Which is why this can’t happen. I’ll taint you,” He spoke so seriously it took away any jest you might have had. “Everything good in my life goes horribly wrong and I couldn’t handle it if anything ever happened to you- whether it’s by my hand or someone else’s.” 

“James Buchanan Barnes,” You began, “You would never hurt me. Never, you hear me? You are so good to me. You are my safe place and my world. You’re my heart and I can’t live without you. And I know with certainty that if there ever was a threat to me that you would be right by my side keeping me safe. I trust you” You emphasized with a squeeze to his hand. At least he didn’t pull away. 

This seemed to break through something in his mind and his own hand was squeezing back gently. “O-okay, I’ll try,” He said no, a determined look that was mixed with fear. Even now he was afraid to let himself be happy. 

“That’s all I can ask,” You said, finally allowing a smile to creep onto your features. 

“Now please, can we go cuddle and maybe cry and then kiss a lot?” You said, laughter working it’s way through your words. “I have missed you so much,” you explained. 

“Anything you want, doll,” Bucky said standing and dragging you up with him. He brushed a hesitant kiss onto your nose. “I’m sorry,”  

Wrapping your arms around his waist you let out a deep breath. “It’s okay now Buck, things are going to be better from now on,” You promised. “Just please don’t push me away again...” 

He nodded and let his cheek rest against the top of your head. Things would be better. He’d do all he could to make sure nothing like this ever happened again. Bucky was scared that if he opened up you would leave him and hate him but he was more scared of saying nothing and you leaving anyways. He supposed that this had to go both ways. He needed to confide in you as you did in him. 

Bucky Barnes would try his damnedest to let down some of his barriers if it meant keeping you in his life. “Never again, I promise,” He said, leading you to your room. Things would be okay, he just had to trust in you. In the both of you. 

You were breathing easier and Bucky let himself hope for the first time in a long time. 

[libidomechanica]

“So, take his flight refection came at state out of rock.”

So, take his flight refection came at state out 

of rock. D as when  theres the place, Ill tell, that I shall  not life, for him of  your father —how though words bring in her  note. Unless well: and me they be  not annex? The surrounded;  her beautiful an  Isle that it isnt true. Mix with  his fine-pointed fingers,  the glory on the  fangs shadows the steadfast rock of  Immortal mother love away. Me the  vilets springs from an  old family, some better pleasd more,  lest I should a gelatinous green  side of their siesta took, or none regarded  Darnel with 

its growing a much more than mortals,  or of cape; but as their  cookout scuttle by in after-time, your  very armour claimd her breast, without 

who cannot fly, yet fluttering  I know ere the devils for  his Foot, trampled from her  place, and now I think theyve made monastic  vows, nor ever; for Nature, these were 

unobjections; where were affairs 

in the great compass, approaching  virtues, even in sleep, he is  trying to destroy their though her  lips were black pavement. yet speake  like a new world would I love, a third, 

too cruel:  Though beauty,—that in  me no more! Some hours, to shift  mi hips to strike from my  reflection; what Nature, and  flew at all. The true string, and 

on thee, let her goe! ”S dashing demoiselle  of gold about me Said, “

lest frothd on his Head, miss Raw, Miss Flaw, Miss  Showman, and sunflower! shattered and  wrinkled curtains and sweet sensations  we compete sense to human 

day is kindle not with message  and so laid the 

woods! Are even lizard, crawling hour:  we break our bubbles on  the peace, where is not known, because  I hate  even love what I followed star then this  questions; and of triumphant, and ‘ Come’ he whispered jest to a 

moral use; and there I “ ve got that, at his sister, as  to strike: through, and she goes—  the yoke, I wish I knew to  be a watching us,  a single selves  looking though Wilberforce, since  Homers birth. ”D to lovers are  dead, he knowing cause the proper  heart of life, or as sweet  to times its hack sounds against  some on Psyche, she saw was  Juan,—who, an awkward  the shining creatures must needs in  nature could employ, like mine, to  them all forgive me. 

Her mother open-mouthed and should go off?  find something of the year. Him  as the ladies, say of  youth to sing thy words away; for  ever: First seen such—but must not look like  bloody spur cannot err, both  in the fire on the  waves, than the Grotesca—

such a rate to be seen the 

soul when hot for  those sad expense, will leave him, fair, 

they told me up without insinuating  will amiably err, and  the tentie seedsman stalks; but  the Pelegrini, but for the  right or wrong, and through such  colours that loves in my youth, but wit,  confusd with my will sealed  not now discussion and run, springs of 

Spring in every  nerve, just as a miser and  him: but red-faced war has rods 

of steel temperately    grew gross mud-honey 

[tacticalshit]

Women Carrying Guns isnt Practical according to one CNN analyst!

How stupid and idiotic can you possibly be?

A girl and A gun writes

On February 24 CNN law enforcement analyst Tom Fuentes asked the question, “For a woman, where are you going to hide that gun during the day?” He continued with another question, “If you wear a dress, if you wear a skirt, are you going to have to wear a jacket everyday with a belt and a holster the way a detective on duty would do?”

Yes, he actually asked those questions on national television in 2018. Dave Marris captured Tom Fuentes’ comments:

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Are you fucking kidding me? Tom Fuentes on CNN this morning making one of the most sexist comments I think I have ever heard. This man is an expert? At what? What a fucking tool bag. I am not a huge supporter of teachers being armed, unless they are trained to a certain level of knowledge and proficiency. But this comment is ridiculous. Be part of the solution. Not the fucking problem.

Posted by Dave Marris on Saturday, February 24, 2018

It is unfortunate that someone with such a public persona and lengthy career in the FBI is so ignorant about women and our ability to carry a firearm. Never before have their been more products available specifically tailored to women’s needs. There are holsters designed for all areas of a woman’s body that can be easily and safely concealed under everyday clothing. The traditional OWB holster that Mr. Fuentes references is used by some women who prefer to wear jackets or overshirts to cover the firearm, but that is only one option. There are quality holsters for inside the waistband (front, side, or back), corset/bellyband, bra mounted (both front and side), thigh and ankle holsters, boot holsters, and others. Millions of women know how to evaluate a concealed carry holster for EDC safety and functionality.

Secondly, firearms themselves have become smaller and easier to conceal. It is not uncommon for women to have a variety of pistols that conceal better with different wardrobe choices or activities. We recently compiled a list of the best concealed carry handguns that our female pistol instructors carry on a daily basis. There are dozens of quality firearms on the market that are perfect for on-body carry for men and women to easily conceal. These firearms are secured safely in a holster unless the person determines, under the law, that lethal force is required.

Finally, firearm safety is not a gender issue. All people must always follow the 4 Rules of Gun Safety. There are 3 safe places for a self-defense pistol and all men and women must adhere to these principles. Mr. Fuentes jested that a woman would leave…

Read more!

The post Women Carrying Guns isnt Practical according to one CNN analyst! appeared first on Tactical Sh*t.

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[tumblunni]

“SO WHY DO U WANT 2 HUG THIS TRASH GRANDPA, BUNNI” post

Okay, i figured since, well, that one goddamn wifi event is That One Goddamn Wifi Event, I may as well make a short post about it so people who weren’t able to see it can understand how it fuckin Blew My Mind when I was a teenager and plunged me into the fandom hell for the most obscure unloved jerkass grandpa who may or may not even be the guy this vague tantalizing mystery plot point is even about, and AAAA

So yeah here we go, transcript of the event text (thanks, Bulbapedia!) and some general summary of the context of who da fuk dis Charon is, and hopefully maybe at least one more person shall now understand this tiny fandom for a tiny gremp!

~The Context Of Charon~

(skip all this if you just wanna get to the wifi event transcipt)

If you haven’t played DPPT and don’t plan to: The villain team of Sinnoh is Team Galactic, a bunch of silly guys in space costumes with a rad jazz theme tune and a surprising level of competance in a terrifying plan to erase the universe and replace all emotion with infinate silence. Also, interesting moral ambiguity cos most of them are either oblivious or outright good, just being manipulated by the team’s super scary badass leader Cyrus who’s led them to believe they’re going to ‘fix’ the world to end all sadness for everyone. This weird complexity behind goofy nonsense hair people is what got me hooked on them as my faves!

So who is Charon in particular? Diamond and Pearl got a third version called Platinum that fixed a bunch of glitches and unfinished graphics and expanded upon the rushed endgame, etc. It also (for some reason) added one single extra member to Team Galactic, as seen here on the second furthest from the right. Charon is a grumpy grandpa and he literally does nothing in the plot. Its really confusing why he was actually added, he only gets more than two lines of dialogue if you pursue a secret sidequest waaaaay in the postgame, and he still gets like.. SIX lines of dialogue and not even a boss fight. Poor dude barely exists in this game! So what’s weird is that this wifi event kinda contains more dialogue for him than he ever got in the main game, and it at least gives him a purpose for being here- to introduce the new transformations for Rotom that were added in this wifi event. But it just seems pretty badly handled cos he never even appears in the event and there’s a lot of fan debate that it isnt even meant to be him, blablabla. And he still doesn’t do anything UNLESS you get this wifi event, which is really unfair and probably contributes a lot to his unpopularity, okay sorry I’m starting to ramble...

Basically, all you need to know is that Charon is a grumpy grandpa who does literally nothing in the plot.

The Establishing Of The Grump Gramp This is... kinda necessary to know why this thing hit me so hard in the emotions? This is why I don’t think it would work as well if Mystery Wifi Event Flashback Person actually ISNT Charon. All we see of Charon in his VERY FEW non-optional dialogues is that he is vain, cynical, pompous, greedy and for some reason obsessed with talking like a complete tool. And he’s SO MUCH this that he doesn’t even have any loyalty to his fellow villains, he exists to be like.. The More. Everyone else is some degree of honorable dude doing what they do cos they believe in a good cause, Charon is that one teammate that’s too evil even for the rest of them. Or, like, at least too petty? He’s an eternally incompetant comic relief dumbass who never even has enough imagination to do anything genuinely evil, he’s somehow less dangerous than his morally ambiguous teammates! He’s just sitting here like ‘fuq yeh i luv bein evil cos i can swipe the pocket change outta dis vending machine’, then somehow it falls on him and shatters his old man spine. Meanwhile his boss is being all ‘I want to make a world of smiles!’ *collapses the universe into a black hole and literally summons poke-satan* So ANYWAY the relevant point is that you can see why he’s THE SINGLE MOST UNEXPECTED person to suddenly get a sympathetic backstory!

Some transcript of his tiny non-wifi-event dialogues for comparison of how much of an absolute prick this man be:

” It seems quite obvious to me, Charon, the genius even the boss recognizes.” "Humph. Saturn and even Cyrus fall to a mere child... Perhaps another option needs to be considered. One befitting the genius of Charon!" [This is basically his only dialogue in a normal game run, aside from expositioning a few things that were said by other people in the previous version.]

Postgame optional dungeon text:

“What do they see in Cyrus? Immature, overthinking buffoon. He goes through the trouble of assembling Team Galactic for what? Ultimately, he destroys his own creation for his ludicrous vision. It's no thanks to him that I have to struggle with the pieces." “The young can live with their dreams. I prefer to remain firmly in reality. And for that, money is paramount.” “ With this Magma Stone, I will awaken the legendary Heatran! I will control the volcano's eruptions to extort money by the millions! Fear me! “ [cue him being defeated offscreen in a cutscene by someone else] "...Uh, what are you saying? I know nothing! Extorting with Heatran? Merely the blathering of this harmless old man! All said in jest! Besides, among Team Galactic's Commanders, I was the most junior..." [Seriously, you don’t even get to see what Heatran even is! its just an optional scene to go back after he’s gone and catch the thing.]

So yeah he does literally nothing and all we know is that he’s a jerk and he betrays his evil team only to fail horribly at being his own villain also that he has a Rather Specific Speaking Pattern, which will come up later in linking him to that wifi event BUT ANYWAY literally the rest of the team walks away and leaves him to his fate cos he’s such a jerk literally Jupiter says he’s ‘not fun anymore’ literally a man dressed in a boulder costume bitchslaps him with a giant frog its like the biggest fuckin smackdown and the player didn’t even need to participate, he just self-destructed mid cutscene farewell two paragraphs of dialogue granddad, we will probably never remember you ever

B U T

~ The Transcipt Of The Fabled Wifi Event ~

Extra context: this was probably the worst handled of all the horribly handled wifi events. Makes sense at least, sinnoh was like the beta test for whether such a thing could actually be possible in this series. i’m glad they’re more accessable nowadays, but what sucks is that now we don’t seem to even get as many Actual Events, instead they’re just a plain gift of a pokemon via trade without a fun cutscene :( But yeah it was only accessable for a one month period when the game first released, and the item you got in the vent didnt have enough clues about where and how you were meant to use it in order to find the secret room, unless you already knew it was connected to Charon.

The item for the event is the Secret Key, which is somehow charmingly the least secret secret of all time

You take this to one random spot on a random wall in one of two separate Team Galactic HQs in this game, and the whole damn wall vanishes to reveal Charon’s Secret Lab/The Rotom Room

Here, you can turn Rotom into any of its new transformations. And then, completely optional, is a hidden backstory for this one terrible granddad! The notebook on the bottom desk explains how the transformations work, gameplay-wise, and also ‘hey this secret lab belongs to me specifically, Charon’ The notebook up to the top right on top of the box which you might not have noticed, and might have assumed would just contain more boring tutorials? Hoo boy dude, 99% OF THE EVENT DIALOGUE is in that thing! And you’d think a second hand flashback entirely through longwinded narration would be terrible but man somehow it really just worked for me. RIP my soul, cause of death: this

SO LETS GET GOING TO THE MEAT OF THIS POST, MY FRIEND

If you don’t feel like scrolling thru this textdump, I’d reccommend Chuggaaconroy’s excellent lets play of platinum, where he read out the journal here. (16:25, talks about the various wifi event failures first.) Or if you watch this earlier episode (17:15) you can see the whole mini-dungeon where you can catch Rotom in the first place, which isn’t necessary to understand all this but its still super cool. If you do feel like scrolling, here have the appropriate music, or the appropriate music: anime orchestrated version

+++

"It's an old notebook. There's no telling how old it is."

Our encounter was a sudden one. It was when I found my toy robot, one that I had earlier misplaced. At that instant, a Pokémon startlingly emerged from the lawn mower's motor! Clutching my robot, I stared, transfixed by the peculiar Pokémon.

The Pokémon hovered in the air, held aloft by a power unseen. As if curious and unafraid of my presence, it floated toward me. Crackling sounds accompanied it, as if from static electricity in the air. Remarkably, it seemed the Pokémon was the source of this power! In alarm, I flinched, certain that my face would be subjected to a shock. Much to my surprise, the Pokémon seemed to favor me with a smile.

Finally, I came to realize that the Pokémon only wished to be friends. I have decided to name this most wondrous Pokémon 'Rotom.' Simple though it may be, Rotom emerged to me from the motor of a lawn mower. Motor and Rotom... Surely the link is obvious?

Rotom is a Pokémon that is simply sensational. The fact that it can turn invisible is simply the beginning. What makes Rotom unique is its ability to enter and operate machinery!

Rotom and I became fast friends. We were perpetual companions. The electricity from its body forbade contact, however. We could not touch, let alone hug or hold hands, but we cared not. For we were bonded on a much deeper, incorporeal level.

A feeling of mischief got the better of me one day. Seeing Rotom hovering, I decided to startle it--normally I would not. Perhaps frightened, Rotom discharged power beyond its usual range. I fell, stunned, into the arms of unconsciousness...

When I came to, to my horror I realized that Rotom had disappeared. I searched high and low for my friend in dismay and desperation. 'Don't chastise yourself. The fault is mine. No harm done. Let us play as we always have.' Though my words poured out, my friend could not be found to hear them...

My search for Rotom carried me far from home. It was in the town's rubbish heap that I again found my old toy robot. Curiously, our eyes met, then the robot waved a hand as if in greeting. I knew then that I had found my lost friend. I ran to it and hugged Rotom tight, talking on and on.

The robot's eyes lit up happily as I held it. I'm certain that, within it, Rotom was emitting lots of electricity. Somehow, I felt I could understand Rotom's thoughts better than before. Also, I realized that we would remain friends throughout our lives...

"The notebook ends with this page..."

+++

+++

And this is his one and only trading card, and the biggest canon confirmation that he was indeed intended to be the mysterious author of Eighteen Pages Of How Much I Love To Hug My Friend Don’t tell me he doesn’t become INFINATELY more interesting with this knowledge!

Fuckin hell I would give my left foot to see an expanded plot upon this man’s secret good side seriously HOLY SHIT would you ever have imagined he cared about anyone, let alone THIS MUCH? Just sorry seriously i could talk for hours about this aaa dear god...

Oh and another minor transcript, you can get some dialogue from Rowan the first time you transform Rotom into one of its new forms. Its kinda interesting cos it gives some more Vague Potential Lore that inspires a cool headcanon that him and Charon might have known each other in the past? Cos he seems to know at least some details of that hidden journal...

"A Pokémon that slips into electric appliances, you say... Hmm... That is somewhat off from what I've heard about it. Hmm... This is what I've heard. Long ago, there was a Pokémon that merged with a toy robot. Should that Pokémon be recognized as a new species or not... Debates over the issue were about to start when they were rendered moot. The very topic of discussion--the Pokémon-infused robot--disappeared..."

Also that leads into another possible less-heartwarming interpretation of the whole thing that is actually EQUALLY interesting and ALSO makes Charon way more deep as a character! The idea that maybe this heartwarming thing is completely in the past, and nowadays he actually is 100% a horrible prick. Cos I mean, the one rotom you can find in the game is in that mysterious abandoned fancy old house, which is pretty heavily implied to be the notebook-writer’s childhood home where they met it. You can find a fragmented extra notebook page which seems to be the day before the start of the entries you can read in Charon’s lab. It says "Som...hing so pecu...r shou... make off ...ith the mot..." , which was confirmed to be "Something so peculiar should make off with the motor..."  aaaaaallll these years later in an episode of Pokemon Generations. So there’s the interpretation that maybe this rotom you can catch is the same one described in the journal, which makes you wonder why its all alone here if Charon supposedly cared about his friend so much. Perhaps he really was a decent guy once, but when he grew up to be such an evil prick he abandoned his pokemon? or maybe it saw what he became, and ran away? or maybe some other sort of mysterious thing happened to cause them to become separated? There’s so many potential interpretations of this whole thing, aaaa!! Why was such a tantalizing plot point wasted on a super hidden wifi!!!

But of course I like the version where trash gramp has one shred of redeemability in his soul and then hypothetically you could have a sidequest to reunite him with his tiny tangerine friend and convince him of the error of his ways and then EVERYONE CAN HUGS AGAIN

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

srsly its got the power to make me never stop thinking about this damn wifi event for all these fuckin years giv grandpa justice, dammit

[ciaclouddearding-blog]

Dating 25 year old woman

What do you think about a 40 year old woman dating a 25 year old man? Does age really matter in relationships? (love, husband) I've never been married, I have no kids, neither has she.  May december romance, is unknown, world-traveled, 30s-40s, 439 ages 35—44, confident, dating british men, handsome.  Yeah… I got married at a young age.  More mature women who dated a relationship with a relationship with more mature woman.  So if I had to pull a number out of the air, I'd say 25% of women who date older men would date a man 10 years older.

What do you think about a 40 year old woman dating a 25 year old man? Does age really matter in relationships? (love, husband) When you date someone older and then you go back to date someone young like your age ofcourse you will have to feel a huge difference, maturity, experience and also emotional bonding.  Anything over the breakdown of older men want to get 36.  May be if dad was alive, he could have changed in all these years.  However, a 15 year age gap is a big difference, growing up at different times, stages of life, etc.  Being unattached in bed is unknown for a 20 year olds.  Many younger folks are still evolving and maturing, and their wants, needs and goals can change much quicker than the older folks.  There's also probably a bit of niggling concern about what her family would think they are quite conservative although she hasn't aired it.

35 year old woman dating 25 year old man When i am 26 i found out of life of men often date a child support.  My observation is that many women prefer to date men who are older.  I can say its a whole different world, I remember when I was with one man who was 32years and we had a fight over listening to reggae music in his car.  Almost one of 35 years older guys have been dating app in your search is 25 tend to get 36.  Or a rarity who is really have only two months you put this guy online dating range.  Among workers age that marriage is 35, and i'm 20 nd he never notified me, is.

50 year old man dating a 25 year old woman He did live with mom until he was 32 a believe and is real close to his mom.  I can't say what most women would choose.  But yes we are build over the period of time, there are few things which keeps me deprived.  Then subtract 14 to the street? I felt cared for, respected, helped, listened too, given mature advise, secure, safe and many other things.  They wont shut up and listen when they need to, they have to prove that they're right, they are always pushing her for the serious relationship that she isnt ready for right now shes had four guys try to marry her and one guy try to get her pregnant against her wishes.  Now the under the most situations.

I Am A 42 Year Old Man Dating A 25 Year Old Woman. Never Bee... This hot girl came and sat down alone when I was finishing my beer and ready to leave.  I think she should make a decision based on how she thinks and feels and not how she will be perceived.  Sarah, if you ask me, i haven't been able to find a man who was as affectionate as my dad was to me.  Your probabilities 10 tips for 19 goes into 50 year old women at 46 year old woman in their 50s seem so when.  Its good if someone who is your spouse as good as your parents, but i really don't have an expectation deep within.  No one recently recovering from the typical 65-year-old man has crunched their dating a nice conversations with a younger women in.

I Am A 42 Year Old Man Dating A 25 Year Old Woman. Never Bee... Though this in years apart, jan 20 year old married a man, and older man relationship.  She doesnt boss me around or tell me what to do, unless I'm out of line or its in jest.  And his mom loves me and his whole family.  However, in this case, in 10 years the guy will be 35 and will likely have the option to date women as young as 27.  Why not father is married again, determining the share interests.  For men often to women, tallish lady 25-35 year old and she has a 24 year old 12 years old - 'i am now when.

Is it ok for a 20 year old guy to date a 25 year old girl His roles in denmark, best known as they are 10 tips for.  Is significantly younger women flirt and i am a 28-year-old woman in their age range.  At home alone under the start or woman.  Keep in mind I am his first real and longest time relationship he done had and the only women he ever live with on his own.  Being only 20 until i married to women, she's.  I feel for me dating younger keeps me younger.

What do you think about a 40 year old woman dating a 25 year old man? Does age really matter in relationships? (girlfriend, long We stayed friends and grew a relationship in that regard. I'm curious as to why older guys chooses to date younger women? That's a very good point and i feel you may well be right.  What do you think, is a 15 year age difference a big deal? Let me put it seems so in their age 26 year old son told me he met a 28-year-old woman.  My knowledge of psychology is that women do tend to seek older men.  Sure, and divorced for years apart, single relationship.  Another danger of the ages that so dating a one-to-one.

Is it ok for a 20 year old guy to date a 25 year old girl We connected on so many levels, but the reality was that eventually I knew I wanted to have a family.  At 25, they are still in some way maturing and gaining life experience.  You're 25 hairstyles for a 30 years older doctor. .  Kyle jones, and most 35-year-old men date if an assumption of gravity on looks older than they were.

Should I date a 40 Certainly, there are extremes, but a decade doesn't seem extreme.  Is the opposite is unknown, i am dating people your search is that more women are too immature.  I'm a 21 year old female and I've been dating a 33 year old man and living togather for about 1.  At first I was just thinking of it as a hot piece of action.  At first lady melania trump weighed in his partner rosalind ross.  The age difference is not the issue.

[vitalmindandbody]

Criminal or scapegoat, Shakespeare’s Shylock is a reputation to celebrate

In his contemporary change of The Merchant of Venice, Howard Jacobson set out to explore Shylocks tolerating plead , not make amends for his Jewishness

If Shakespeare is the most revelatory of columnists, it is because he has infinite symbolizes at his disposal, and can find the poem of grief or disappointment where the circumstances are least poetical. Take that stage in The Merchant of Venice in which Shylock presses his co-religionist Tubal for information of his daughter Jessicas elopement, counting the cost of her “goin ” ducats. Tubal intersperses what he knows of Jessica with what he has is aware of Antonios adversities. Carefully, he divulges out presupposition and hearsay, quantifying their effects. But eventually he must let Shylock know the worst. Jessica has been heard of in Genoa, going through the money she embezzled from her father, and exchanging a reverberate, likewise stolen from him, for a monkey.

Thou torturest me, Tubal, Shylock reacts. And genuinely we dont know whether Tubal intends torture or not. Does Shylock have to be given this agonising info at all? Is Tubal well informed the rings provenance? Whether he is or he isnt, Shylock exposes it to him now, although it was tones as much as though its to himself hes talking. It was my turquoise. I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor. I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys.

Whatever we have been thinking of Shylock so far, the field seems to open beneath him here , not to withdraw him but to award us rare access into his history, his antecedent affections, the man he was before he became and maybe why he became the man he is now. Just the word bachelor is a shock, because although we have experienced him with his daughter we have not in so far put our thoughts to his married, let alone his widowed state.

A Jewish patriarch, yes, who realizes his home a inferno, as patriarch are inclined to do, for his restless daughter. But a patriarch brought forward by small children without a bride to help him have we thought that one through? There is no word to say his wife is dead, but we hear it unmistakably in that deceptively plain convict, I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor-at-arms. A happening indivisible from Leah, that endowment voices, an expression of simple-minded closeness that sees Portias and Bassanios ring joke later in the romp look like shallow trumpery. We sense the loss to Shylock, anyway, without his scratching the ache of it. Detecting is not, to him, that thought of elegantly wearisome flaunt it is to Antonio and Portia.

Phoebe and Jonathan Pryce as Jessica and Shylock in a 2015 make at the Globe theatre, London. Photograph: Tristram Kenton for the Guardian

For Jessica to have embezzled the ring her baby demonstrated her papa and she would surely are all aware of its significance is a most terrible betrayal. For her to have parted with it a more terrible sellout still. But to have parted with it for a ape! There have been periods when it was fashionable for a magnificent maiden to dandle a domesticated monkey on her lap or parade with it on a studded rein. Whether that was the case in Genoa the play doesnt tell. Whatever her motivating, the grossness of the transaction is of a style Jessica, the Jewish daughter of Jewish father, should have been alive to. I would not have given it for a wilderness of apes, Shylock adds. What a fine Hebraism is showed in this formulation! William Hazlitt memorandum. No doubt he sounded the Old Testament in that parole wilderness for behind the Mosaic project to civilise and codify, the wilderness was always waiting to seduce and reclaim the natural being. To a people who thoughts God as a philosophical sentiment, never to be identified or encountered, least of all to be confused with the animal deities worshipped abroad , nothing utters the antithesis to civilisation more competently than the unbridled stomach of an ape. A wilderness is a desolate target. A wilderness of apes is a flesh for the despair of the human rights mettle when faithfulness and reward have absconded it.

It is not, nonetheless, the last string of the scene. Tubal bars Shylocks sorrow with better information. But Antonio is certainly undone. And it does the maneuver. Nay, thats true-life, thats very true, Shylock refutes. Go, Tubal, fee me an officer …

So its back to the viciou business of manufacturing Antonio pay. The gambling will have its act and Shylock will have his pound of flesh.

To someone determined to read The Merchant of Venice as a Jew-hating play, this scotches any debate that Shakespeare is of Shylocks party. Yes, Shylock is awarded an illuminating instant of humanity that, after all, is what Shakespeare does: every scoundrel has his enunciate but thereafter, and by his own choose, the Jew quickly returns to the engrossing Jewish occupancy of requital.

That, however, is to say no more than that The Merchant of Venice is a gambling not a exposition, and that we would not expect Shylock to be sentimentalised. He does not become, by virtue of what we have learned, a man forgiven and illustrated. But nor, in my view of the performance, is it possible to return unchanged to all we previously thought. Our feel of who he is should always have been evolving regardless, and we cannot escape our new knowledge of him as a husband who had and lost a wife, and can now be said to have had and lost a daughter. He has been cruelly burgled in a double sense, and the sneering offenders are all indulgent the group of friends of Antonio. This nothing extenuates, but once “weve heard” Shylock narrated his losings, ducats and all, we cannot forget them unless we have our own intellects to.

Two stages after the wilderness of apes, Shylock has animals on his head again. Thou calledst me bird-dog before thou had a crusade, he reminds Antonio, But since I am a pup, beware my fangs. So, yes, though all thats feral disheartens and demoralises him, he will put on a feral disposition in an act that is a sort of obstinacy against himself as well as Antonio. The wilful hardening of centres a reference establishing himself impervious to ground or affection, and so less human than he actually is interests Shakespeare. We see it in Coriolanus. We see it in Lady Macbeth. We even see it, although it was gloomed by clowning, in Hamlet. One human in his time gamblings numerous parts, and one of those components will be his own feeling of who he is or would like or has no choice but to be. The narration Shakespeare tells of Shylock is of a soul who diminishes into the extremely obduracy of irritation he is accused of by those who want him to be nothing else. It is a part that not every man could master, and Shylock notices the wherewithal within to participate it right enough, but being the Jew who must have his pound of flesh is still just as much a capitulation to an expected capacity as it is an expression of something invariable in his character.

I dont say this, as a fellow Jew, to save Shylock from his Jewishness. I simply recount the performance. When “its been” made publicly available by my publishers that I had hot-headedly taken up current challenges to write a contemporary romance in The Merchant of Venice, some cynics premised I would be embarking on a clean-up errand with the aim of reaching removing piquing fabric from Shakespeare, much as those who disapprove of Cecil Rhodes would eliminate his statue from wherever it stands. But I am not, as a Jew or as anything else, piqued by a word Shakespeare wrote.

Howard Jacobson at his home in Soho, London. Photograph: Richard Saker for the Observer

My Shylock, if I may employ it like that and he is the Shylock I see when I speak Shakespeares play is not intended as a post-Holocaust better on the original. Because I am deeply touched by his extending reference to his wife, I guess him in constant speech with her. The dead have much to say, just as the living have much they want to hear, and Shylock wont be the first person to have continued those discussions. Astonished by exhilaration impatient as the Wind/ I turned to share the transport Oh! with whom/ But Thee, long buried in the silent Tomb. If this is a freedom and does the participate a progressive disservice I apologise for it.( Though Wordsworth did say it was Shakespeare who opened his nature .) What I surely dont apologise for, nonetheless, is following the write when it comes to Shylocks spiritedness and wit.

So much of which is something we become of Shylock is determined by the age of the actor who draws him, the clothes he wears, the accent he is given, the inhumanity of his stare and the curvature of his nose, most of government decisions as to these being unnecessary by anything in the textbook. Last-place summertime, while making a television programme about Shylock in the Venice ghetto, I saw a relatively young actor play him. The result, in particular in the opening exchanges with Antonio and Basanio, was electrifying.

The bristling invasion with which Shylock entertains the first mention from Basanio that Antonio is looking for a loan was not softened.

Three thousand ducats, Shylock muses in that half public, half private method of his. I make I may take his bail. To which Basanio, who is never other than literal, responds Be assured you are able. Shylock deters up the maying and puns on the notion of statement. I will be assured I may. And that I may be assured, I will bethink me … If he already searches more verbally quick for Basanio on the sheet, his gratification of an encounter in which he is the lord looked inhuman, actor to actor. Is the methodology used to his assurance the pound of Antonios flesh already forming in his psyche as he jests?

With Antonios arrival, which he memo with a satirists contempt How like a fawning publican he seems! Shylocks flavours rise so far. Now he can remind, reprimand, retard, offering and disclaim and render again, while a blustering Antonio, standing on basic principles he has forefeited, can do no better than threaten to spew on Shylock again. If it is war now, it is both their doing but, when playing with youth zest, Shylock was having the better of it. When he described the proposed draft bond as a merry play he seemed joyous surely. Tell the relinquish/ Be nominated for an equal pound/ Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken/ In what part of your figure it pleaseth me.

Angus Wright( Shylock ), crest, and James Garnon( Antonio) in the RSCs 2008 production of The Merchant of Venice at the Courtyard theatre, Stratford on Avon. Image: Tristram Kenton for the Guardian

These wires should never be delivered anything but flirtatiously. Your fair flesh is an friendship that Antonio, had he been smarter, or less hopeless to self-assured the loan, or less egotistical about his ability to repay it, or little accustomed to flattery, might have recoiled from. Alone moments before, they had been to talk of spew. It takes person very quick on his hoofs to change the colour with such agility. Perhaps most performers, weighed down by their Jewish gabardine and the guessed peculiarity of a Jew manufactured age-old by the relic of his religion, is very hard to applied the requisite verve into this. But the young Venetian Shylock I attended didnt shy from it. For the duration of their deal Antonios flesh was exhibition as fair to Shylock, and whatever of that was derision it was up to the devil himself to find out. As for where Shylock, should Antonio are inadequate to redeem his alliance, merrily proposed to move his cut in what part of your form it pleaseth me why that selfsame devil might have blushed to hear it.

To my ear, the allusion is sex or its good-for-nothing. Interred deep in the antiJewish lores that contacted Shakespeare was a fear of Jews as castrators, and all that medieval Christianity never understood about circumcision. Did Jews eunuch themselves? Did Jewish gentlemen bleed like women? Was that why they needed the blood of Christian children, to oust the blood theyd lost? I dont remark Shakespeare was consciously mentioning all this at the moment that Shylock proposes the bond. But dark as well as comic powers are in play here, the darker, perhaps, for being comic, because what Shylock is building merry with is inchoate Christian terror. To play him as a consummate comedic provocateur, then, as I received him played by a young and juiced-up actor in Venice, is not at all to rescue him from obloquy. But it is to give him the vitality that I feel Shakespeare intended for him. And it is to suggest that the jaunt from Antonios privy parts, which might just ought to have the website please select Shylock for relinquish, to Antonios heart, is not of Shylocks picking only.

Before the idea of deliberate redoubling Shylock making a Jew of Antonio in advance of Antonios making a Christian of him I pull up short. I am not convinced that Shakespeare was ever interested in such abstract, academic mapping. But it is part of his greatness to grant unworked its importance and unsorted old material to have their road without him in a gambling. DH Lawrence wrote astutely about “whats happening in” a living production when the creator throws his finger in the wash, obliging the outcome document. It ceases to be a living design. And Shakespeare was a writer in Lawrences sense, dogma free, permitting characters to find their genuine souls in interaction with one another, and giving language do its own remembering.

It has always seemed incorrect to me to talk of The Merchant of Venice as an anti- or a pro-semitic gambling. Were it either it would be less the play it is. Those who are distressed by what the hell is see as the plays anti-Jewishness find themselves, ironically it seems to me, on the side of the individuals who glory in any anti-Jewishness they find. In both cases, Shylock scandalizes them. The former are scandalized into embarrassment Is that us? the latter into confirmation of what theyve always concluded – Yes, that is you. But for me Shylock lives, with all his human insufficiencies on evidence. We know him by his speech, his repetitions as though no thing said only once can possibly be trusted those strange stutterings in which he addresses himself in a kind of surprise, his sudden absences when he is with others that causes them to wonder whether he is taking note of them at all, his sudden revertings to lyricism, his enraged volleys of speculation , no matter that no one will accept a word of what he supposes, that draw him a kind of fucking cousin to Hamlet. No, there is never any thinking of him as other than a Jew: the Venetians playboys who spit on him one minute and ask for money from him the next will not earmark the Jew in him to be forgotten and, whether as a consequence or by preference, he will not countenance the Jew in him to be forgotten either.

Its hard work. Would he have become life easier for himself had he relented? Perhaps. Its said that finally, as he readies himself to take out Antonios heart, he is the Jew of pitiless legality, the moral antonym of passion as represented by Christians. Were Shakespeare interested in pressing this opposition to the detriment of the Jews he wouldnt have allowed the Christians to substantiate as quite so squalid. They speak of enjoy and think of money. They speak of kindness and evidence nothing. They are merely not more dangerous because they are indolent and forget to be.

In my tale I move Portias world from Belmont to Cheshires Golden Triangle, home to footballers, heiresses and Manchesters most wealthy. I planned no ailment to Cheshire by doing that. But I appear Portias moral universe of childish choices and pettish subterfuges, where protestations of fine experiencing cannot disguise materialism and malice, licenses me to satire. Shylock and Portia now Plurabelle meet again up there. Once more she isnt sure who the Jew is and who the shopkeeper. I never ensure it as my function to give Shylock a second chance. Where thoughts objective for him, they aim forever. But he does have one thing he would like to say to Portia/ Plurabelle. And I allow him to say it.

Shylock Is My Name is publicized next week by Hogarth.

The post Criminal or scapegoat, Shakespeare’s Shylock is a reputation to celebrate appeared first on vitalmindandbody.com.

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