mother 1 2

me before playing the mother series: ness? lucas? they seem alright. idk where they’re from tho

me now: i 👏 🅱️elieve 👏 the 👏 morning 👏 sun 👏 🌞 👌👀 💯 🔥 👏 always 👏gonna 👏 shine 👏 again 👏 💃 🙈 😃 🌄  and 👏 i 👏 believe 👏  a 👏  pot 👏 of 👏 gold 🏆 👀 💰 😜 waits 👏 at 👏 every 👏 rainbow’s 👏 end 🌈 🌅 🎶 oh 👏

Merlin deleted scenes otherwise known as:

“Julian, it’s just too gay, we’ve got to cut it, I’m sorry.”

So when you’re going to the graveyard in EBB, there are some spots that are strangely monster-free. You only really know this for sure if you’ve played M1+2, where you can check how dangerous an area is, but it’s curious nonetheless.

And yes, this happened on one of my playthroughs. Found a grove free of enemies, next step into dangerous territory I was attacked by a zombie. Good fun!


This child, Edward’s child, was a whole different story. I wanted him like I wanted air to breathe. Not a choice—a necessity. Maybe I just had a really bad imagination. Maybe that was why I’d been unable to imagine that I would like being married until after I already was—unable to see that I would want a baby until after one was already coming.… As I put my hand on my stomach, waiting for the next nudge, tears streaked down my cheeks again.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Yiddish-speakers themselves, including some of the most prominent Yiddish writers of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, routinely referred to their language as Zhargon – Jargon. It was a bastard tongue, bad German, a linguistic mishmash, hardly a language at all. Jews intent on assimilation found it particularly odious. In Germany for example, Jews tried to reduce Jewishness to a Konfession, a religion divorced from culture, insisting they weren’t Jews at all, but rather “Germans of the Mosaic persuasion” Go make the case in Yiddish, where every word, every linguistic tic, is a reminder of peoplehood. Consider, for example, Max Weinreich’s example of a more or less random Yiddish sentence: Di bobe est tsholent af Shabes – The grandmother eats warmed-over bean stew on the Sabbath. Bobe, “grandmother” is a Slavic word that entered Yiddish in the thirteenth or fourteenth century. Est was adopted a thousand years ago, from Middle High German. Tsholent, bean stew, came from Old French more than a thousand years ago, probably from chaud, “hot”, and lent, “slow” – a fitting name for a dish that Jews keep warm on the Sabbath, when cooking is not allowed. And Shabes, “Sabbath,” is a Hebrew word that dates back several thousand years. Quite literally, Yiddish is a living chronicle of Jews’ historical experience, proof of their peoplehood, and therefore spills the beans on assimilationist aspirations. No wonder Bourgeois Jews hated it; no wonder scholars ignored it. In 1873, for example, the German Jewish historian Heinrich Graetz afforded Yiddish just two paragraphs in his magisterial six-volume History of the Jews. Never mind that Yiddish was then the first or only language of 80% of the world’s Jews; for Graetz, it was “eine halbtierische Sprache,” a half-bestial tongue.

- Outwitting History: The Amazing Adventures of a Man Who Rescued a Million Yiddish Books by Aaron Lansky