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Ivar Ragnarsson X Reader

Partial Marriage Ceremony

A.N: I did quite a lot of research for this imagine and some of the ceremony I couldn’t find information on. But please don’t judge if some things are explained wrong. I just wanted to do this.)

“We come here this evening, to share our joy at the joining of this couple.” Ragnar looked at you and then Ivar. “Marriage is the joining of two people, the union of two hearts. We enter it joyfully and in the knowledge that love is both our highest achievement and life’s most precious gift.” He smiled.

Ivar was sitting on a chair on a platform slightly higher than you and you were looking him in the eye. Smiling ear to ear.

“Now we ask the Gods to be present in this union as we give them this sacrifice.” Ragnar looked on as someone brought forward a goat.

Ragnar went to his knees and held the goat at its neck. A bowl was placed under the goat. As Ragnar slit it’s throat, its warm blood pooling into the bowl. As the goat fell it was carried away. Ragnar placed the bowl on the horgr and dipped the hlaut-teinn into the blood. As he threw the blood onto you and the crowd he announced-

“This sacrifice is for Thor, son of Odin, God of thunder and guardian of my blessing! May you watch over this union and grant them your strength.” Ragnar walked back to you and Ivar and sprayed you both with the blood. He dipped his finger into the bowl and pressed it onto your forehead wiping blood down to your chin. Doing the same for Ivar, your soon to be husband smiled.

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“World Without Ghosts”

(An essay by Chinese sociologist Fei Xiaotong, written around 1943 or 44)

Accepting an invitation from the University of Chicago, I went there to work on my book “Earthbound China.” After I arrived, a secretary showed me to room 502 on the fifth floor of the Social Sciences Building and asked politely if it would do for an office. When I noticed the name “Robert Park” in the brass card-holder on the door, the alert secretary hurried to say, “I was waiting until you decided before putting your name up.”

“Don’t change the name. I like that one,” I told her. But she could hardly have understood why.

Robert Park had been my teacher. He came to Yenching University [in Peking in 1932] when I was an undergraduate there. Though I was just an ignorant student, I absolutely worshipped him—except for the old man’s perverse insistence on teach­ing at 7 a.m. and never missing a class or even coming late, which meant I had to skip breakfast to get there on time. For better or worse, his course determined the direc­tion my life has taken in the ten-odd years since, and to him should go the credit or the blame. The founding father of the Chicago school of sociology, he maintained that sociology should take as its subject understanding human nature. Perhaps I liked him because he wanted me to read novels and not sociology textbooks. More than reading novels, he urged going and personally experiencing different kinds of life. Ten years later I still follow this teaching. On this trip to the United States, I had hoped to go hear his classes again. But I was busy with other things, and it was half a year before I got to Chicago, and the old professor had already gone south to escape the Chicago cold. And so it happened that I was put in his office.

This arrangement, whether accidental or not, was full of meaning for me. I had been an unremarkable student in Professor Park’s class, a matter for some regret, and ten years later, though still without achievements, I remained eager for a word of praise from the teacher. I was secretly happy that, sitting in the chair he had used, I would surely absorb something of his spirit, and hoped to write a book that would compensate for my earlier failure to be worthy of the pains he had taken in rising so early all those mornings to teach us. There is here a sort of historical causal connection: because of a past memory the present takes on a significance greater than anything in the current situation. My strong desire to have the name left on the door arose out of a need for concrete, living, moving history. I felt that if the nameplate, the old books lining the walls, even the air in the room were not disturbed, then, surrounded by this lingering past, perhaps in a few months I would see a draft of “Earthbound China” on the table. But if these were disturbed, all might be lost.

This, in fact, is the “tradition” of which I have written in an earlier article. Tradi­tion need not be an obstacle to innovation. True, it has its bad side. When old peo­ple, with the various privileges and respect that have been accorded them in the past, prevent any change in the status quo, that is a bad aspect of tradition. But it is also undeniable that everything new is born out of that which is old. These ties of kinship should not be obliterated, and recognizing them gives to the connection between old and new the significance of succession and continuity. If we can develop this kind of feeling for history, I believe the world and mankind will be richer. When we go on a trip into the country, we can enjoy the scenery merely as a present phe­nomenon; if we have left there earlier memories worth recalling, this can bring on a pleasant nostalgia; and if this is a historical site, our feelings arc further enriched because of what others did there. People do not live only in the here and now; life is not just a string of moments. We need history, for it is a wellspring of inspiration. When we take tradition in this way, that is another aspect of it.

Sometimes I think the world is very strange. We in the Orient accept tradition, but what we seize on is its bad side. The West seems to want to disregard it, with the result that the good side is lost too.

Of course, it is not entirely true that Westerners purposely disregard tradition. For the most part, they all know much more about the history of their own coun­try than I do. Every child who goes to New York has to go gaze at the huge Statue of Liberty and then on the way back visit the church that George Washington fre­quented. In Washington, D.C., there are the hundred-foot-tall Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, and now the Jefferson Memorial. Buildings just a few hundred years old are preserved as historical monuments. On a personal level, Americans keep diaries and write autobiographies. I have elsewhere described how on Thanksgiving the year before last my host brought out a big pile of his fathers diaries. At Professor Redficlds house, Mrs. Park especially wanted me to see the pictures of Redfield ancestors in a corner of the living room. On Professor Ogburns staircase wall were neatly lined up generation after generation of ances­tor portraits. Perhaps because at a dinner party I had once expressed the view that Americans lack any feeling for history, all the friends I came into contact with were particularly anxious to correct my misapprehension by showing me their concern for their ancestors. All this is true, but still I feel their regard for tradition is to a greater or lesser extent conscious, intellectual, and artificial. It is not the same as ours. The reason I feel this way is that I have found Americans do not have ghosts.

When tradition is concrete, when it is a part of life, sacred, something to be feared and loved, then it takes the form of ghosts. This is equivalent to the state­ment by Durkheim that God is the representation of social cohesion. As I write this, I feel in my heart that Chinese culture in its essence is rather beautiful. To be able to live in a world that has ghosts is fortunate. Here let me relate some personal experiences.

When I was a boy, because the family was in decline … we lived in a big old building of which at least half was closed off awaiting uncles who seldom came home, and in another part of which were dark rooms that had never seen sun­light. … In these dark and desolate rooms, there were more places for ghosts than for people This environment was already sufficiently frightening, but in addi­tion not a day passed when people did not talk of ghosts to scare or amuse us children I am not exaggerating when I say that to a child like me brought up in a small town, people and ghosts were equally concrete and real….

Because I grew up half in a world of ghosts, I was particularly interested in them. Gradually my fear changed to curiosity and then to attraction, to the point that I even feel a little sorry for people raised in a world without ghosts. The thing that felt most strange to me during almost a year of living in America was that no one told me any stories of ghosts. I do not want to overpraise such a world, but I will admit that children who grow up in it are more comfortable than we and do not have to live with fear in their hearts all day long. But perhaps there is a heavy price for this, a price I would be unwilling to pay.

The beginning of my gradual change in attitude toward ghosts occurred the year my grandmother died. One day not long after her death, I was sitting in the front room looking toward her bedroom. It was almost noon. Normally at that time Grandmother would go to the kitchen to see how the lunch preparations were coming along, soon after which lunch would be served. This had been a familiar sight for me, and after her death the everyday pattern was not changed. Not a table or chair or bed or mat was moved. Every day close to noon I would feel hungry. To my subconscious mind the scene was not complete without Grand­mothers regular daily routine, and so that day I seemed to see her image come out of her bedroom once more and go into the kitchen.

If it was a ghost I saw, it was the first one in my life. At the time I felt nothing unusual, for the scene was so familiar and right. Only a little later when I remem­bered that Grandmother was dead did I feel upset—not frightened, but sad the way one feels at a loss that should not have occurred. I also seemed to realize that a beautiful scene, once it had existed, would always be. The present loss was just a matter of separation in time, and this separation I felt could be overcome. An inex­tinguishable revelation had struck; the universe showed a different structure. In this structure our lives do not just pass through time in such a way that a moment in time or a station in life once past is lost. Life in its creativity changes the absolute nature of time: it makes past into present—no, it melds past, present, and future into one inextinguishable, multilayered scene, a three-dimensional body. This is what ghosts are, and not only did I not fear them, I even began to yearn for them.

I cannot get used to people today who know only the present moment. To take this moment as [the sum of] existence is a delusion. Our every act contains within it all the accumulated history from the beginning of the universe right down to the present, and this every act will determine the destiny of endless future generations. If the present moment, fragmentary, abstract, false, is taken for life, this life will necessarily be shallow and base and even empty—since the moment cannot last, one might as well indulge oneself and revel, for when the instant is gone what is left?

American children hear no stories about ghosts. They spend a dime at the “drugstore” to buy a “Superman” comic book. This “Superman” is an all-knowing, resourceful, omnipotent hero who can overcome any difficulty. Let us leave aside the question of what kind of children this teaching produces; the point worth not­ing here is that Superman is not a ghost. Superman represents actual capabilities or future potential, while ghosts symbolize belief in and reverence for the accumu­lated past. As much as old Mrs. Park, trying to lessen the distance between East and West, might lead me over to the corner of the living room to look at faded photographs, it was the Redfields little boy who showed me the heart of American culture, and it lay in Superman, not ghosts.

How could ghosts gain a foothold in American cities? People move about like the tide, unable to form permanent ties with places, to say nothing of other people. I have written elsewhere of the gap between generations. It is an objective social fact that when children grow up they no longer need parental protection, and the reflection of this in the family is childrens demand for independence. Once when I was chatting at a friends house, his daughter sat with us chain-smoking. The father happened to remark that it was senseless to smoke like that, but she paid no heed and afterwards told me that she was eighteen, it was none of the old mans business, smoking was her own affair. Eighteen is an important age for a girl; after that her parents need not support her, but neither can they tell her what to do.

I also know an old professor whose son teaches in the same university as he but lives apart from him—which might be all right, but he seldom even visits. During the war they could not get a maid and it made my heart sick to see the professors wife, old and doddering, serving a guest coffee with shaking hands.

When I was staying at the Harvard Faculty Club, I noticed sitting at the same table every morning a white-haired old gentleman who lived upstairs and who from his looks was not long for this world. Whenever I saw him I felt outraged. He must have been a famous professor who had educated countless people and worked hard for society. Now old and failing, cast out of the world into this building, with­out relatives even to care for him much less give him pleasure, he might as well have been dead. One day he said softly to the waitress, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it down the stairs tomorrow.” Afterwards I asked her where his home was, but she did not know the answer and only shook her head. In America, when children grow up they have their own homes, where their parents are mere guests.

Outside the family there is certainly much social intercourse, but dealings with people are always in terms of appointments. On my office desk is an appointment calendar marked in fifteen-minute intervals with a space for a persons name beside each. Apart from business there are various kinds of gatherings, but if you go to one you will find it is no more than social pleasantries: a few words with this person, a few words with that one—it is hard even to remember their names. I cannot say all Americans pass their lives like this. But I once asked a fairly close acquaintance how many friends he had whom he could drop in on at any time without a previous engagement. Counting on his fingers, he did not fill one hand. In fact, unless they have business or an engagement they spend most of their time at home, where they don’t much like to be disturbed by guests. At any rate, friends warned me not to go barging in on people all the time.

With interpersonal ties like these, naturally they seldom see ghosts after death. Moreover their movements are so easy and they have contacts with so many peo­ple, that there seldom comes about the kind of relationship I had with my grand­mother, living interdependently for a long time, repeating the same scenes, so that these scenes came to seem an inalterable natural order. Always being on the move dilutes the ties between people and dissolves the ghosts.

As to attachments to places, that is another thing that made me uncomfortable in America. Not the beds and mattresses, for I believe there are none more com­fortable than those of the Americans, but the constant moving around that year was the cause of my discomfort. I visited many places, but when I think of them now it seems I went nowhere, for I felt no particular attachment to any place as all were alike, differing only a little in the height of the buildings. The cities are all more or less the same, at least for a traveler: you get off the train and your bags are taken by a black man who everywhere wears the same type of cap (you may not encounter this kind of man, but you will not encounter any other); you take a similar taxi to a similar hotel—no matter what hotel, if you have stayed anywhere once, you will not feel it unfamiliar. The hotel rooms are all comparable, some big­ger and some smaller, but none lacking a bathroom, a cold-water tap, a Simmons mattress, and nice stationery and envelopes. Since it is the same everywhere, you can never take away a particular impression from any hotel.

Hotels are not exceptions; it is basically the same with homes in American cit­ies. Moving house is no more difficult than changing hotels; a phone call is all it takes. Move here, move there—the houses are about the same. In New York I thought of renting a house and visited ten possibilities in succession. In the end I said to the friend who was accompanying me, “Why bother to see each one? Why not draw straws?” Moving here and there dilutes peoples ties with houses.

Whenever I return to my native place, I go to see the house I lived in as a child. I have lots of questions about the tung tree and the loquat tree; the tung tree still has my name carved on it. In London, where people do not move so frequently, I still remember where I lived on Lower Station Road and Ridge Avenue [?]; while I was in the United States I heard that the old buildings there had been bombed, and it made me feel bad for several days. In America, at least for me, no house has yet produced such a feeling.

I cannot get used to the way lights illuminate all the parts of a room either. Liv­ing in such rooms gives you a false sense of confidence that this is all of the world, that there is no more to reality than what appears clearly and brightly before your eyes. I feel the attitude of Westerners toward the unknown is very different from that of Orientals. They think of the unknown as static, waiting for people to mine it like an ore—not only not frightening, but a resource for improving life in the future. They are very self-assured. We Orientals feel some measure of reverence for the unknown; our reverence for fate makes us content with our lot, makes us aware of human limitations, and keeps our eyes fixed on the humanly attainable. I cannot assert that this attitude is ultimately due to the form of the houses we live in as children, but I believe that my own early feelings of uncertainty toward the big kitchen and the back garden and my fright toward the closed-off rooms have still not dissipated, but only expanded into my view of the universe. If many people in traditional China had similar experiences, then these experiences may have deter­mined the basic structure of our traditional attitudes toward people and things.

In a world without ghosts, life is free and easy. American eyes can gaze straight ahead. But still I think they lack something and I do not envy their lives.



M. H. Boroson here. I don’t agree with everything in this piece, but I find it fascinating. I used a passage from it at the opening of The Girl with Ghost Eyes, and I wanted to share the rest of Dr. Fei’s brilliant essay.

I posted this a moment ago as part of a reblog of this review, but given a few of the comments that I’ve seen over the past couple of days, I feel like I want to put these thoughts out there in a way that will be seen:


Here’s my thing: if people want to watch, keep watching. If they don’t, don’t. It’s that simple.

To try to make the argument that Reign is some shining example of feminist television is extremely problematic. Perhaps it could have been, once upon a time. I think we all wanted it to be, once upon a time.

Then season 2 happened.

I think it is unfair to play on our feminist sympathies when we are talking about a show that chose to rape its female lead in order to punish its male lead (this is an inarguable fact, straight from Laurie McCarthy’s mouth). I don’t want to hear the “Mary was actually raped IRL” excuse that LM tried to use, either, considering that the alleged rape was at the hands of one of those future “epic romances” that we’re being promised.

Understand that the fans who choose to leave are not doing so simply because one half of their favorite romantic pairing is gone. They are doing so because the previous season destroyed any liking or understanding that they had for the remaining half. This review keeps mentioning the role of women and the relationships between the women characters on this show, but after Mary’s assault she did not turn to her ladies for help, or even to Catherine beyond a few token words and platitudes. She turned to a man who wasn’t her husband, and repeatedly expressed her belief that she needed said man in order to heal. The show raped her to punish one man for trying to protect her, and had her heal herself through sex with yet another. I’m not slut-shaming Mary here. I’m side-eyeing the hell out of the producers and writers who thought that story line was anything other than tasteless. Even Adelaide has gone on record expressing her frustrations with Mary last season, so why blame viewers for feeling the same?

I completely understand that it is more difficult to pitch a women-centric show that doesn’t hinge on romance, but

1. Reign has never not hinged on romance. From the very first moment, they were throwing love triangles all over the place, using the tagline Love is the most dangerous subject over images of Mary sitting firmly between two handsome men, and splashing quotes about history never having been this sexy! over its promos. So, yeah, let’s not pretend that Reign ever marketed itself as The Rise of Mary, Queen of Scots.

and

2. Reign is so ridiculously low-rated that it’s almost unbelievable it has made it this far, with or without Francis. If it fails now in the wake of his departure, I highly doubt that it’s going to have some sort of industry-wide ripple effect that sees female-driven shows relegated to the dustbin. The landscape of television is changing. We are living in the age of Shonda Rhimes, the age of Veep and Homeland, of Cookie Lyon and Annalise Keating. We are living in the age of Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, and Mindy Kaling. We are living in an age in which Supergirl premieres to astounding numbers and people salivate in anticipation of Jessica Jones. Do we still have a long way to go? God, yes. But shows created by women and about women are finally starting to get their due, and we are seeing stronger, more vibrant, and more complex female characters than we ever have before. We are seeing women superheroes, women vice-presidents, women surgeons and mothers and lawyers and villains, and what is Reign doing?

Reign is raping its female lead in order to create romantic drama and force her to become “stronger” through her pain.

That isn’t breaking new ground. It isn’t even being terribly creative in the ground that it’s covering.

Honestly, I think that some of the departing viewers would stick around if they actually believed that this show was going to evolve into the story of Mary coming into power and relying on her relationships with her ladies and with Catherine in order to help her navigate along the way. But the audience has absolutely no reason to think that is going to happen. Since the pilot, Mary has done nothing but bounce from man to man to man on this show, and the very night that Francis’s death aired in the US, a new interview with the showrunner appeared on Entertainment Weekly’s website assuring us that Mary would find love again and that it would feel “real.” Do people expect her to be miserable forever? No. But I think many people think that the writing is on the proverbial wall when the showrunner is already talking about Mary’s future love life before Francis is even in the ground. Translation: she’ll be up to her eyeballs in another love triangle in three, two, one…

It took the real Mary four years after Francis’s death to decide that she was ready to marry again. Why is the showrunner already plotting her next romance if, as this review promises, the focus is now going to shift to the complicated political maneuverings of her reign? To her role as a female politician?

Look, girls aren’t stupid. They can recognize when a character feels genuine. If the ratings take a hit now that Francis has died, it won’t be because the romantic male lead is gone. It will be because the romantic male lead is gone and he was the only one to whom they could relate or with whom they could sympathize after what the writers did to Mary’s character in season 2.

Shows and films with women at the core are no doubt a harder sell in Hollywood, which is why it is all the more important for writers and producers to take care with how their female characters are portrayed. If Reign had taken more pains to do that, perhaps the ratings wouldn’t be what they are, and while I do feel that the writers have tried to make a course correction with Mary’s character this season, for many it has been too little, too late.

Please, don’t guilt the people who no longer plan to tune in. Their reasons are perfectly valid. There is no need to imply that they are striking a blow against feminism simply because they want to stop watching a television series that they no longer enjoy.

So, in conclusion: Ladies who intend to keep watching, I understand and respect your decision. Ladies who don’t intend to keep watching, I understand and respect your decision. To everyone, go watch Katniss Everdeen kick ass in the theaters this weekend, then binge-watch some Buffy on Netflix and catch up on Supergirl while you’re recovering from your Thanksgiving dinner-induced comas next week. If you feel like it, give Quantico a try. We all hope to see a greater variety of female-driven entertainment out there in the future, but in the meantime, there’s lots of stuff to enjoy right now.

Whether or not you include Reign on that list is completely up to you.


I’ve already made a post about it but I kind of wanted to make one as detailed about it as possible, again, there isn’t a lot of information but I felt like talking about it because I really like the idea of it and wanted to make one quick and done but more whole. Basically, I think this space baby’s role in the upcoming Sun and Moon entries is super important. I believe Cosmog is going the route of Rockruff, by that I mean Cosmog is going to either evolve into a Cosmog2 that becomes Lunala or Solgaleo or will just evolve into one of the sun and moon mascots on its own.

We already know that Cosmog is the thing Lillie hides in her bag from the Japanese trailer’s dialogue and screenshots, we don’t know about Lillie herself and she’s still an enigma as a character. Is she truly an Ultra Beast? Is she simply a regular girl whom an Ultra Beast has “synchronized” with? Is she connected to Lusamine or the Aether Federation? What role will she play, she’s still a complete mystery but something we do know for certain is she does have Cosmog in her bag. In the anime Lillie is said to be extremely knowledgeable about Pokemon but unable to “touch” them. This manifest itself as her freaking out when Mallow’s Bounsweet gets a little too close. This is easily a cue that could have been taken from Lillie’s game incarnation who is said to not be very fond of making Pokemon fight in battles and who keeps the little rare Pokemon inside her bag, possibly as a way of not making contact with it but keeping up with it?

What I think will happen is Lillie separates from Cosmog for some reason, possibly for its own safety as Lusamine is heavily speculated to be the true antagonist of these upcoming installments over the much more goofy and obvious Team Skull Leader, Guzma. Lusamine is on the “hunt” for character who are or have some connection to these Ultra Beast like Lillie. Lillie took Cosmog and ran away from her for the safety of this creature. We already have seen Type: Null, who seems to be a living science project under Gladion care, a walking and true blue attempt to create a Pokemon that could challenge those in spoken in the same breath as legends. Obviously this Pokemon mainly takes inspiration from Arceus, its next stage’s ability is “RKS System” which are the three syllables for Arceus’s English name’s pronunciation, meanwhile, the Japanese version simply calls this ability “AR System.”

If that wasn’t enough fuel various translation in other languages like French and German dubbed the ability, “Alpha System.” Arceus is known as the “Alpha Pokemon” in most localizations. This ability is more or less a reskin of Arceus’s ability, “Multitype” which allows it to become any of the eighteen types of Pokemon by holding onto ancient plates. The difference here is Silvally holds onto items know as “Memory” to cause this change in typing. Type: Null exist as a chimera made by the hands of the Aether Federation that is Gladion’s ace and later on become Silvally through finding someone who it trust.

We don’t know how many Silvally or Type: Null exist, there could easily be an army of these things but we do know the intentions of Lusamine’s gang was to make a Pokemon that could oppose those in mythology. Ultra Beasts themselves are also said to possibly pose a threat to humans and Pokemon alike so they are feared. We also know they appear and start attacking the Alola Region. The stigmatization of UBs makes it obvious that they possibly could have taken on the forms of humans like Lillie to not arose suspicion. Lusamine has founded her own association to research rare Pokemon and the like. Lusamine’s goal among her group of powerful chimera Pokemon and UBs is to -kill- Lunala or Solgaleo or oppose one for reasons. This is where the Nebula Pokemon comes into play. 

There’s one loose thread, Cosmog, depending on the version Lusamine will not try to capture that version’s box legend for her own gain but will succeed in overthrowing it. She simply doesn’t count on Alola having two deity gods that stand for the sun&moon. In a clinch situation I think Cosmog will end up evolving into either Lunala or Solgaleo by bathing itself in the moonlight or sunshine of Alola and appearing as a “protector” who has the strength and power to fend off Ultra Beasts. We already know from Alola Forms like Exeggutor that Alola’s sun is special, influencing Exeggutor in such a way it managed to grow extremely long. Rockruff-Lycanroc also see a very distinct change by absorbing the solar energy / lunar energy of Alola that’s influenced by the legendary duo of the region. I don’t think it’s outside of the realm of belief that Cosmog’s lore is similar to the WereRuffs’ change.

Cosmog are dubbed by the title of “the child of the stars” and are super rare, at one point only being known to Alolan royalty and heirs. Cosmog is the “Nebula” Pokemon, in astronomy stars are born from nebula. Nebula are the “baby” stage of a star. The sun is a star, also some material doesn’t become apart of the star always, instead the dust becomes planets or comets or a moon. Given Cosmog were only known to the kings of Alola at on epoint I think it’s safe to say that heir Cosmog growing up to be the new emissary of the sun and moon over Alola has always been a possible tradition that’s been kept on the down low. It sticks out as the only other Pokemon besides Lunala and Solgaleo with a formal title and fanfare. Lunala has been honored as an emissary of the moon. It is referred to with reverence as “the beast that calls the moon.” Solgaleo has been honored as an emissary of the sun. It is referred to with reverence as “the beast that devours the sun.” Cosmog also shares a type in Psychic with both of the lunar Pokemon who have it in addition to Steel (Solgaleo) and Ghost (Lunala). I feel like usage of Pokemon Refresh will also play some role in this future evolution.  

We don’t know everything yet but Cosmog’s role in the story and care under us doesn’t seem coincidental nor does it just seem like a regular Pokemon. Sun&Moon are really changing up the formula of Pokemon games and conventions, this really does make me think we have our first evolving legendary on our hands. This baby is destined to take on the role the future emissary of the sun or moon for Alola and it’s our job to protect and raise it once Lillie separates from it. Something common in Sun&Moon descriptions is personality change upon evolution through trust with its trainer. Torracat goes on about how it’s more open and fierce compared to Litten who shows no emotion on the surface, Brionne goes on about how it’s able to open its heart to a trainer it trust, Dartrix is said to become snobby and vain and in-need of a trainer to help it overcome this.

Type: Null discards its headgear to become a more stronger Silvally with a trusting trainer, Rockruff’s determined and brave self turns into contempt, rebelliousness and an innate enjoyment for conflict and battle with the moon while the sun causes it to become 100% loyal, obedient and compliant. The behavior of that Rockruff toward its trainer specifically was stated to change in some way depending on what Lycanroc the trainer got. Cosmog’s is said to not fear people nor Pokemon despite its small size and will grow to love a considerate and accommodating person but this naivety will lead it to trouble at times. Under the care of the protagonist Cosmog will mature past an unaware and immature pure-hearted Pokemon to a knowledgeable, strong and beautiful soul worthy of Alola’s honor.

An Almost Human Alphabet

All of my tweets from this week’s tweetout. Don’t forget to write to Warner Bros, and join us next week!

A is for Almost Human, which it’s time again to tweet about!

B is for Bomb, in collars, or made of light, or contaminating crime scenes with DNA

C is for Chrome, the 1% of 2048, and coffee, the drink of choice

D is for Dorian, the bot with a soul who can also flip vans (and prefers ANDROID to synthetic, thank you)

E is for E-paper, for files and forms, newspapers and post-its

F is for Future, where our favorite show takes place

G is for Giraffe, a tiny, animate friend

H is for Hearts made of polymer to extend your life, if you can afford to pay

I is for Insyndicate, whose membership and goals are still unknown.

J is for Jealousy that drives a man to kill for the perfect face

K is for Kennex, grumpy on the outside, morose and malcontent on the inside

L is for Luger test – no one really knows what it is, but you can’t study for it (and Dorian passed it once)

M is for MX-43, serve (bring beverages) and protect (catch bullets)

N is for Nigel Vaughn – maker, betrayer, genius, madman

O is for Olive oil, making prosthetic limbs nice and smooth

P is for Pelham, who won’t be forgotten, & Paul, the shorter, grumpy/sarcastic detective who is actually great

Q is for Questions that can be answered with another season, or movie, cartoon, book.. JUST MORE ALMOST HUMAN!

R is for Rudy, the fixer, the tinker, the hacker, the thinker

S is for Sandra, oh captain my captain, with a spine of steel and a voice to match

T is for Tech – holoscreens, robots, medicine, weapons; in other words, SCIFI!

U is for Unbound, which barely scratched the surface of what this show is hiding

V is for Valerie, another mystery concealed by “perfection”

W is for Wall, which we still wonder the why of

X is for XRN, or Danica as she’s known – ruthless strength, product of a darkened soul

Y is for YOU, who can help #SaveAlmostHuman by writing @WarnerBrosEnt

Zzzzzzz I’m all tweeted out, folks. Don’t stop the fight to #SaveAlmostHuman! See you next week.

but then the person who once told me this already left. 

in the moment

your scent lingered of lavender and fire
the way your crass was sprung from a hug turned bliss
tried to write love but all has become mush
my fingers bleed normality and my breath is of uncertainty

you were all but ever, your fear of forever and never
a mind of a boy and the body of ones own
i die to think, your constant fears of brink
rather than with, you move with yield

a soulful life of yellow, a constant show of jagged edges
you stand with no attempt for hover
the letter of your death sits at the end of the bed
cancer that brought two to their edge
i lift from underneath, try to spring you to think

questions of past to future, our endless calls
you at the morgue, details of bodies that once lived
a tease that suddenly, without a notice of departure
moments of our truth, lying on the couch
hand pressed against my chest stroking life in its moment

we were only ever a moment until you asked for more
i only ever asked for the moment, but you seem to think i asked for more
you moved with fears while i swayed my hips
a pace of aggression and tension, constant fears that you couldn’t seem to comprehend
i wanted, but you could never frolic or flow

bathing in excuse after excuse while your eyes exude
i can’t seem to bend or break or find assurance within you
i see how you bleed and how the rapid moves slowly
the way you speak and ask to love more than yourself

as fierce as a lion and as shallow as the clear of malibu
you were never till i moved with ever
sharing a moment of bliss and your kiss
the teeth that broke my neck
i swim near the deck hoping you figure the ocean and understand why i never mind relaxing in something that seemed so shipwrecked

10

{♥} Happy birthday B1A4’s ‘hidden-genius’ baby&BANA’s charming prince @B1A4_gongchan #22ndgongchanday

Time is about to show its power once again,fastly turning our aegyo prince into a manly and a grown-up adult. 

The certified noona-killer ever since his first teaser image, Our quiet but thoughtful youngest who never forget to protect the hyungs and love his fans equally, The chic and dependable first son in Gong family who never get tired to give more pride for his parents. 

Wish all the good things will come to your future, don’t stop learn and try new positive things to catch your dream, together with the rest of B1A4. Watch your health, eat and rest well~ We love you forever and ever~!