gambling hall

randomthingsthatilike123  asked:

Just curious-what do you think would have happened in Star Ears if Padme had survived?

I think Yoda would still want to hide and separate the children. I think Padme would refuse, and I hope Obi Wan would help–

Because wouldn’t that be fun? Padme, who ruled a planet, who challenged a senate, who married a horror, who can pick her own locks while handcuffed in the middle of a gladiatorial arena– now on the run with her two infants and only a heartbroken Obi Wan to back her up. 

(And R2D2, of course.) 

Padme’s always been the practical sort, even when royal, so she knows how to change a diaper and feed a child. She also knows how to fly the stolen ships Obi Wan and R2D2 hack into, how to bargain in thirteen intergalactic languages,  how to spot a bounty hunter in a crowd, and how to shoot a blaster with deadly intent. 

Padme was in love with someone who maybe never even existed– maybe once, there had been a boy who wanted to help people, who risked his life and his pod racer for someone else’s story, who made a young girl laugh in a sand-worn mechanic’s shop. 

She had been chasing him for years, that once good heart, but now with these bruises purpling and fading around her neck, she stops waiting. She starts running. Every time Obi Wan force-moves something over the next few weeks, she has to bury a flinch. 

But Leia is growing in fits and spurts, eating greedily and crying loudly. She stays in a sling on Padme’s chest when they move, Luke held snug in a sling around Obi Wan’s. Luke gets a whole head of thick brown hair while Leia’s is still patchy and bald, but he never matches his sister’s powerful lungs. 

When Padme had been sitting in her high senatorial apartment on Corsucant, holding Anakin’s sweaty hand, she had never imagined she’d be murmuring desperately soothing noises to her fussy daughter while she shot around a corner at stormtroopers, while R2D2 meddles with a ship’s blast doors behind her. 

Luke starts teething on a hot jungle planet where they hunker down for three weeks, sleeping in an abandoned old temple and catching the local wildlife for dinner. Leia takes her first steps in the belly of a Corellian freighter they’ve stowed away on. She wobbles between Padme’s outstretched hands and Obi Wan’s knees and boxes of smuggled luxuries. When she falls down, Obi Wan surges forward, heart in his throat, but Leia laughs. 

Padme lost a husband, but Obi Wan lost a brother and his whole order– his world, his people, his family. 

(One day, Leia’s whole home planet will vaporize and die under Vader’s–Anakin’s–command, and Obi Wan will find himself in the wreckage of it, the place Alderaan used to be, and he will recognize the sorrow shrieking into the Force.) 

But for now– Padme watches Obi Wan win them funds in gambling halls, grin into the teeth of a good flyer chase, sleep with Leia strewn over his chest, and Padme wonders if he isn’t more heartbroken here over Anakin than she is. 

Luke learns to walk a whole few months after Leia, but he falls less. He moves around the rim on mechanic’s shops, freighter cargo holds, makeshift camps on green planets, holding onto stable things and frowning seriously. Leia tries to leap from walking to running with no lead up time at all. She is not without scraped knees and scabby heels of her palms for years. 

They manage to spend a whole eight months on a little Outer Rim planet in a sleepy agrarian settlement. Padme and Obi Wan repair farming droids while R2D2 plays nursemaid (both Leia and Luke will be fluent in droid by the time they’re six). Luke and Leia play rough-housing games in the dry dirt– this is the first time they’ve stayed anywhere long enough to learn other children’s names. On day two hundred and thirty six they hear reports of stormtroopers so they pack up and hop on a transport at the nearest spaceport, not even bothering to check where it’s going. 

When they fly their own ships, they strap Luke and Leia into the same passenger’s seat and Padme and Obi Wan narrate. “Here you’ve got to always turn off the compressor before you activate the initiator…” “See the flashy blue light? Gotta have all the blue lights flashing…”

They hear reports of the empire growing. They see it– stormtroopers in more and more distant outposts, imperial ships passing them in the skies. Obi Wan lost the Jedi cloak years ago. They plate R2D2 in matte grey paint. Padme cuts her hair short and dresses in many-varied-layers like any refugee– because that’s what she is now, she and her little family.

Obi Wan has two lightsabers. He thinks Padme doesn’t know– he has the one he fights with, holding back stormtroopers and reflecting bounty hunters’ blaster shots, but he also has another one, tucked into the bottom of his pack. 

“It’s Anakin’s, isn’t it?” Padme asks one late night, tucked in a stony sheltered hollow on a planet that storms warm rain thirty-eight hours out of the day’s forty-two. Obi Wan gives a soft laugh and puts his hand over his eyes as Padme goes on, “The saber you’re hiding from me.” 

He nods, slowly, lets his hand fall. “I took it from him, when I left him for dead.”

“Not dead enough,” says Padme. “You’re keeping it in case yours gets lost?”

“Yes,” he says slowly. “Or in case… we might need another light saber, some day.”

Luke is bouncing a X-wing fighter toy along the wet pebbles. Leia is beeping something at R2D2, giggling over the rainfall. 

“Hm,” says Padme. “We might need another two.” 

youtube

Dixiana (1930). Bebe Daniels plays Dixiana, a circus performer who becomes engaged to a southern aristocrat. Upon being rejected by his well to do family she gets employed at a gambling hall and gets crowned queen of Mardi Gras where a whole bunch of drama goes down. Half the film is black and white and half in technicolor. Although it sounds like a drama it’s actually a comedy with the severely underrated comedy duo Wheeler & Woolsey. This was also the first film appearance of Bo Jingles Robinson. Oh and did I mention it’s a pre code film?

6

Approach a Witch or a Wizard on the streets of any magical country outside North America and ask them what best defines the character of the AWC Mages, and you will get a variety of answers. In Parisian cafes, French sorcerers scoff at gauche American Mages, whose inelegant and brash magic values utility over form, while a world over, Chinese wizards and witches tell tales about American cowboys, drawing wands for epic duels over the fates of vast swaths of land. Proud and boastful, wasteful and generous, hard-working and ambitious, American Mages tromp across the world as perpetual tourists in the eyes of their international brethren.

And perhaps, in many ways, that is true. A certain ironic egocentrism grows in the soil of American Wizardry, drawn as it is from a thousand magical cultures and traditions, all blended together by the sorts of Mages who came from east and west to settle a land so far from their own homes – and that says nothing of the resilience of the many nations of Native Mages who were already here, and fought tooth and nail to preserve their cultures, values, and traditions against endless tides of invaders. The truth is there is no single American ideal - but there are a million American Ideas:

In solitary homes, far from nosy neighbors both mundane and magical, American Mages practice magics considered blasphemous in most countries, protected by the laws of the AWC so long as they do no actual harm. Meanwhile, in the back-alleys of New Orleans, an elderly witch runs a little shop that toes the very edge of the Statute of Secrecy, peddling second-hand charms and bits of hope to Muggle tourists and locals alike. Out West, in a hidden valley in the vast expanse of the Grand Canyon, a young man tends the Fire Bird roosts for which his family has been responsible for nearly a thousand years, while less than an afternoon’s flight away, his cousin wanders a neon-lit gambling hall, taking careful notes on probability and how the massive flows of wealth and probability effect background magic. Her notes will contribute to a study that might change how wizards around the world think of chaos and chance, or might be locked away by the secret agent who follows her down the strip, for the purposes of national security. Californian wizards trace spells on the surface of the bucking sea, and Virginian Mages pick the finest apples for enchanted ciders, while Floridian swamp witches sing songs older than the Everglades and New York arithmancers unwittingly safeguard the investments of a witch whom everyone believes is dead, but who actually bides her time in a cabin by a lake, plotting her return. She’s watching her nieces and nephews, preparing for the start of a new school year at The Allegiance Academy, practice the nail magic and knot magic brought over with slaves from Africa. Their cousin, who attends LAO, is doing something similar with paper and calligraphy, while her mother makes preparations for Ramadan, readying the potions she may not brew during the fast.

There is no single American identity any more than there is any single American Magic. Perhaps this, more than anything, is true: American Mages are fiercely independent, especially compared to the rest of the world. There is no room for the quiet, quaint, or quiescent amongst that loud and motley crowd, rushing to stake their claim on a land that fought back with tornado and disease, wildfire and wendigo. Revolution lives in the heart of every American Mage, both as the crucible that birthed their country and the fuel that makes it run.

Went ahead and transformed that sketch/color study into a full illustration. This one’s design morphed a lot as far as the background composition went, but I’m really happy with the final result.

On an unrelated note to the illustration but related to Ballroomgown Widowmaker: I want to know what universe Overwatch is taking place in that Reaper can’t go to France to meet with Talon agents presumably because he can’t blend in…But no one blinks an eye at a yellow-irised, blue skinned woman walking into a gambling hall. What exactly classifies as “Not Normal” in this universe anyway?



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Rivetra Week: Modern

1875

“Oh papa I’ve won again!”

Petra Ral let out a triumphant giggle as she placed her playing cards face up, revealing her winning hand. Feigning distress, her father put a hand over his heart and marked another tally next to her name on the pad of paper he was using as a scoreboard. In a chair by the fireplace, her mother rocked in a wooden chair, mending an apron.

“Perhaps we should send her off to the gambling halls, dear,” she suggested, not looking up from her work, “we’d have to work only half as hard.”

Petra laughed at this, shuffling the deck and asking if he’d like to play again. He did, of course.

A knock at their door caused them to pause and Mrs. Ral set down the her project with a slightly furrowed brow.

“Who would come at this hour?” she wondered, excusing herself from the living area to see what exactly was the matter.

Mr. Ral and Petra exchanged a curious glance.

“You don’t suppose Auruo has lost his cat again do you?” he wondered.

“If he has, I haven’t got it!” she shot back with a huff. It wasn’t likely to be true. Her childhood friend, Auruo Bossard was forever misplacing his pet due to the feline’s infatuation with the copper haired girl. It was trying to say the least.

Keep reading

‘What’s with those gloves he wears?’ the bruiser asked.
‘A bit of theater, I suspect. Who knows? Who cares?’
Rollins watched Brekker and his crew moving through the crowded gambling hall. They opened the doors to the street, and for a brief moment, they were silhouetted against the lamplight in their masks and capes—a cripple trailed by a bunch of kids in costumes. Some gang. Brekker was a wily thief and tough enough, Pekka supposed, inventive, too.
Irregular Verbs in English

(Excerpt from Uncharted: Big Data as a Lens on Human Cuture)

English verb conjugation is, at first glance, a walk in the park. To form the part tense of an English verb, all you have to do is add -ed: jump becomes jumped. Hundreds of thousands of verbs obey this simple rule. When new verbs enter the language, they obey this rule by default. I may have never heard of flamboozing before, but I know that if you choose to flambooze yesterday, then yesterday you flamboozed.  

Except - much to the chagrin of English learners - for the pesky irregular verbs. Verbs like to know. Even before you read this sentence, you probably knew that we don’t say knowed. About three hundred in all, the irregular verbs - sometimes called strong verbs by linguists - include the ten most frequent verbs in the English language: be/was, have/had, do/did, say/said, go/went, get/got, make/made, know/knew, see/saw, think/thought. They are so frequent that, when you use a verb, there is a 50 percent chance that it will be irregular.

Where did the irregulars come from? It’s a long story. Sometime between six thousand and twelve thousand years ago, a language known to modern scholars as Proto-Indo-European was spoken. An astonishing array of modern languages, including English, French, Spanish, Italian, German, Greek, Czech, Persian, Sanskrit, Urdu, Hindi, and hundreds of others, descend from Proto-Indo-European. Proto-Indo-European had a system, known to scholars as the ablaut, that transformed a word into a related one by changing its vowels according to fixed rules. In English, the ablaut can still be seen in the form of subtle patterns among the irregular verbs.

Here is an example of one pattern: Today I sing, yesterday I sang, the song was sung. Similarly: Today I ring, yesterday I rang, the phone has rung. Here’s another pattern: Today I stick, yesterday I stuck. Today I dig, yesterday I dug. When the rules of conjugation die, they leave behind fossils. We call these fossils irregular verbs.

What sort of grammatical asteroid wiped out these ancient rules, leaving behind only the dry bones of the irregulars?

That asteroid was the so-called dental suffix, written -ed in Modern English. The use of -ed to signify the past tense emerged in Proto-Germanic, a language spoken between 500 and 250 BCE in Scandinavia.

Proto-Germanic was the linguistic ancestor of all the modern Germanic languages, including English, German, Dutch, and many others. Because it was a descendent of Proto-Indo-European, Proto-Germanic inherited the old ablaut scheme for conjugating verbs. And this worked fine most of the time. But occasionally, new verbs entered the language, and some of these didn’t quite fit any of the old ablaut patterns. So the speakers of Proto-Germanic invented something new, forming the past tense of these young, nonconformist verbs by adding that -ed. In Proto-Germanic, the regular verbs were the exception.

But not for long. Use of the dental suffix to mark the past tense was a tremendously successful invention, and it began to spread rapidly. Like any disruptive technology, the new rule started at the margins, serving funky-looking verbs that the ablaut could not. But once it established this beachhead, it did not stop. Simple and memorable, the dental suffix began to attract additional adherents, as verbs that had always used the venerable ablaut patterns started making the switch.

Thus, by the time that the classic Old English text Beowulf was written, about 1,200 years ago, more than three-quarters of English verbs obeyed the new rule. With its strength eroded, the old ablaut was now on the run, the upstart -ed rule everywhere nipping at its heels. More and more irregular forms defected over the next thousand years. A millennium ago, I would have holp you. Just yesterday, though, I would have helped you. 

This is a process that today’s linguists, with the benefit of hindsight, call regularization. And it’s still going on. Consider the verb thrive. About ninety years ago, a headline in the New York Times read “Gambling Halls Throve in Billy Busteed’s Day.” But in 2009, the Times ran an article in its Science section titled “Some Mollusks Thrived After a Mass Extinction.” Unlike those lucky mollusks, throve was a victim of the mass extinction of the ablaut. There is no going back. Once they are regular, verbs almost never irregularize. For every sneak that snuck in, there are many flews that flied out. 

Like the three hundred Spartans at Thermopylae, the English irregular verbs - three hundred, strong - have been resolutely holding off a merciless assault on their kind that began in 500 BCE. It is a battle they have waged every day, in every city, in every town, along every street where English is spoken. They have been waging it for 2,500 years. They are not merely exceptions: They are survivors. 

The Starlite Motel on Las Vegas Boulevard in North Las Vegas.  Like something out of a time capsule.  In the background is the towering sign for Jerry’s Nugget, the “venerable gambling hall offering revered prime rib in its iconic, midcentury-modern coffee shop” where we had just had dinner.  Later we passed by again, but the rest of the motel sign never lit.  My photo from April 1, 2016.

Live Blog: The Killers’ VIP Performance

I’ll keep this post updated with the latest information on The Killers first VIP performance of the weekend.

Earlier, The Killers arrived at Sam’s Town Hotel & Gambling Hall and went up to the roof to take a couple of pictures.

According to early reports, the following tracks have been played:

  • Semi-acoustic version of ‘Smile Like You Mean It’
  • Semi-acoustic version of ‘Change Your Mind’

A video posted by Erin Kennedy Middleton (@artgirl88) on Sep 30, 2016 at 7:04pm PDT

A video posted by Autumn Nevada (@autb0t) on Sep 30, 2016 at 6:47pm PDT

A photo posted by ❤️🐕⚡️🌱☄🔮 (@gabbycakes805) on Sep 30, 2016 at 6:51pm PDT



six of crows characters -> kaz brekker

“No matter what they thought of him, they’d walk a little taller tonight. It was why they stayed, why they gave their best approximation of loyalty for him. When he’d officially become a memeber of the Dregs, he’d been twelve and the gang had been a laughing stock, street kids and washed-up cadgers running shell games and penny-poor cons out of a run down house in the worst part of the Barrel. But he hadn’t needed a great gang, just one he could make great- one that needed him.

Now they had their own territory, their own gambling hall and that run down house had become the Slat, a dry, warm place to get a hot meal or hole up when you were wounded. Now the Dregs were feared. Kaz had given them that. He didn’t owe them small talk on top of it”