telling-it-how-it-is

8

WIZARDING SCHOOLS AROUND THE WORLD: ISRAEL

The Israeli School for Young Witches and Wizards is located in Jerusalem in an undisclosed location, although many speculate it lies underground, and is accessible through the Western Wall tunnels. Legend says the school was carved out by golems, who turned back to stone and are now memorialised by the hulking columns peppered along the wide underground halls. For centuries, the school remained undisturbed without a hint of spell protecting its presence. In recent years, however, a thin magical blockade had to be cast around campus to weaken the subtle magic drifting from the prayers folded into the Western Wall. Although the school is split by gender, both the female and male sectors are housed on the same campus within walking distance of each other. Unlike other wizarding schools, the Israeli School for Young Witches and Wizards does not host classes on Fridays and Saturdays to accommodate for Shabbat. A regular school day is between normal classes and studying holy texts. Aside from commonplace wizarding classes, the school also offers extensive studies in astronomical divination, which is open to all students, and practical Kabbalah studies, which is offered to upper-year students. Over time, more and more muggle topics and secular subjects have been added to the curriculum to provide a wider education. Many students often willingly and happily take more than the required course load as education is highly valued amongst society.

The Great Middle Earth Bake Off

That glorious time of year is coming around again, yes, it is almost time for the Great British Bake Off (5th of August, get excited)

And because I am trash (tolkien, barduil and bake off trash) I have decided to write a Bake Off Au (oh yes, I am going there)

So get set for a fic filled with innudeno, yummy sweets, custard controversy and competitive bakers…

But wait! There is more!

This will be no ordinary fic, oh no, this is a Bake Off fic, how on earth could it be ordinary!?

I will be writing a chapter alongside each Bake Off episode, and (with the expecition of Bard and Thranduil for shipping and story and trash reasons) you will be allowed to vote off baking contestants, in the comments and tags and my askbox!

However, there is more; even though I am keeping Bard and Thranduil around for the long run as this is essentially a barduil fic, I will only force you to keep them until the semi’s, so you will still be able to chose the winner of The Great Middle Earth Bake Off! 

Meet your hosts:

Baking Verterans and Judges: Samwise Gamgee and Galadriel

Presenters and General Mischief-Makers: Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took

Meet your contestants:

Bard

Thranduil

Bilbo (with the customary side order of Bagginshield)

Ori

Bombur

Beorn

Balin

Faramir

Arwen

Eowyn

Radagast

Sauron 


So, grab your lembas! Pour your dorwinion wine! Chug your Miruvor! And start your honey cakes!

Are you ready? Get set, BAKE!

How to Tell if You are in an Old English Poem

By Samantha Finley, originally posted on The Toast

You are a man: a worthy warrior, a hard-hearted hero, a mighty mail-warrior, a sturdy spear-bearer, a resolute retainer, an eager earl, a fierce-minded fighter, a stalwart soldier…

You deliver both insults and speeches exclusively in tight alliterative verse.

You are a pagan, and this is very sad.

You are a Christian, but in a suitably Germanic way.

You are the last survivor of your people.

No one understands your suffering.

You bury gold with your dear ones. You cover your people with earth. You conceal treasure under the ground.

Your favorite sport is ill-advised wrestling.

You drink mead from a mead-cup while sitting on a mead-bench in a mead-hall at a mead-party.

It is unclear whether you are in need of a lord or the Lord.

The case system is collapsing around your ears. Grammatical gender is disintegrating. The dual number is only for special occasions.

Most of your problems have probably been caused by prideful boasting or Vikings.

Indeed, Vikings are your most hateful enemy, but you reserve your real ire for Jewish people. Also, you have never met a Jewish person.

The grey wolf, greedy for gore, and the dark, dewy-feathered crow are waiting for the battle to end.

You are a Biblical figure, but your version of the Bible story is much cooler than the canonical one.

Your entire economy is based on gold rings, precious gifts, from your lord, the giver of treasures.

You have an encyclopedic knowledge of the local seabirds because they are your only companions.

You have a dream vision. There is absolutely no symbolism involved. The central figure of the vision tells you directly what the theological takeaway is.

Suitable prizes to claim from a battle include your enemy’s rings and other treasures. In the absence of treasure, you take an arm instead.

Your sword is either beautifully decorated or stained with blood.

You are tricked by the Vikings, which is to say they ask politely for a more advantageous position on the battlefield and you give it to them.

Your fate is inexorable.

You are geographically separated from your spouse, so you may as well sit in a hole until you can be together again.

Your name alliterates with your father’s, your brothers’, and all your immediate male relatives’.

You are the subject of a riddle. You are either genitalia or some innocuous household object. This is hilarious.

Roman ruins are the most existentially distressing things in the world to you.

Your corpse-pole is ash. Your battle-bill is iron. Your war-board is linden.

You die for your lord. This may or may not be anachronistic.

You brought your sword and chainmail shirt to a swimming contest. They came in handy.

You are doomed. Your people are doomed. Your world is doomed.

Your weapon breaks in battle. This proves to be less of a problem than it might at first seem.

Your heart, mind, and spirit only grow stronger as your comrades fall in battle. You still lose.

Whether you go to Heaven or Hell, it is ultimately due to the faults or virtues of your body, the life-house.

You use incredibly artful metaphors in your speech, but have never even heard of an analogy.

You have never run out of synonyms. If you ever run low on synonyms, you can create a new metaphor.

When you behead a man, your greatest concern is how to transport the head home. Fortunately, you planned ahead and brought a bag and a handmaiden for the purpose.

The apocalypse is coming. The apocalypse is coming. The apocalypse is coming.

instagram

Neil singing Dust Clears at Colours of Ostrava! (July 2015)

Like why? Who cares?

Why do people like to put down new fans of a group just because you have been there since before debut? I don’t care if someone becomes a hardcore fan of VIXX after .5 seconds because that means they must be hella good to grab someone like that. Let’s all just be happy respectful fans/stans no matter when you got into the group. Just be happy someone is paying attention to them because when that stops your precious group you are trying to keep to yourself won’t be there anymore.