#fire service circular

[jobscirculars]

Titas Gas Transmission Job Circular

Titas Gas Transmission Job Circular

Titas Gas Transmission Job Circular 2022 has been published in the daily newspaper and to get Recent Job Circular Titas Gas. the Titas Gas Transmission and Distribution Company Limited Job Circular 2022 all of the information from jobs circulars. All interested candidates check the Titas Gas Transmission job notice and want more information visit the official website https://www.titasgas.org.bd…

[blueiscoool]

Rome's Vestal Virgins: Protectors of The City's Sacred Flame

Chosen as young girls, the priestesses of Vesta, goddess of the hearth, swore a 30-year vow of chastity and in turn were granted rights, privileges, and power unavailable to other women in Rome.

Marcus Licinius Crassus was one of the richest and most powerful Roman citizens in the first century B.C. Yet he nearly lost it all, his life included, when he was accused of being too intimate with Licinia, a Vestal Virgin. He was brought to trial, where his true motives emerged. As the first-century historian Plutarch recounts, Licinia was the owner of “a pleasant villa in the suburbs which Crassus wished to get at a low price, and it was for this reason that he was forever hovering about the woman and paying his court to her.” When it became clear that Crassus’ wooing was motivated by avarice rather than lust, he was acquitted, saving both his and Licinia’s lives.

One of the most remarkable elements of this story is the fact that Licinia owned a villa in the first place. Unlike other women, Licinia could own property precisely because she was a Vestal Virgin. The story of her trial also reveals how that privilege came with a price: A Vestal Virgin had to abstain from sex, a sacred obligation to one of Rome’s most ancient customs that would continue until Christianity ended the cult in A.D. 394.

FIRE GODDESS: The remains of the Temple of Vesta stand in the Roman Forum. Unlike most temples, it did not contain a central image of the goddess. It was the site of the holy fire and a repository of various sacred artifacts.

Vestal Veneration

According to Roman authors, the cult was founded by Numa Pompilius, a semi-mythical Roman king who ruled around 715 to 673 B.C. Unlike most Roman religious cults, worship of Vesta was run by women. The hearth was sacred to this goddess, one of Rome’s three major virgin goddesses (the other two being Minerva and Diana). The rites surrounding the Vestals remained relatively fixed from the time of the Roman Republic through the fourth century A.D.

Six virgin priestesses were dedicated to Vesta as full-time officiates who lived in their own residence, the Atrium Vestae in the Roman Forum. The Vestals’ long tradition gave Romans a reassuring thread of continuity and may explain the Temple of Vesta’s traditional circular form, a style associated with rustic huts in the city’s deep past.

KEEP THE FIRE The Vestal Virgins tend the sacred fire of Vesta, on whose protection Rome depends. 17th-century oil painting by Ciro Ferri, Galleria Spada, Rome

This place of worship, which lay alongside the Atrium, was where the priestesses tended the goddess’s sacred fire. Once a year, in March, they relit the fire and then ensured it remained burning for the next year. Their task was serious as the fire was tied to the fortunes of their city, and neglect would bring disaster to Rome.

To become a Vestal was the luck of the draw. Captio, the process whereby the girls were selected to leave their families and become priestesses, is also the Latin word for “capture”—a telling turn of phrase that evokes the kidnapping of women for brides that took place in archaic Rome. Records from 65 B.C. show that a list of potential Vestals was drawn up by the Pontifex Maximus, Rome’s supreme religious authority. Candidates had to be girls between the ages of six and 10, born to patrician parents, and free from mental and physical defects. Final candidates were then publicly selected by lot. Once initiated, they were sworn to Vesta’s service for 30 years.

On being selected, their life was spent at the Atrium Vestae in a surrogate family, presided over by older Vestals. In addition to room and board, they were entitled to their own bodyguard of lictors. For the first 10 years they were initiates, taught by the older priestesses. Then they became priestesses for a decade before taking on the mentoring duties of the initiates for the last 10 years of their service.

Training the Novices

"The School of the Vestal Virgins" 19th-century colorized engraving by L. Hector Leroux.

After lots were drawn from the list of young girls who could serve Vesta, initiates were brought to the Atrium Vestae, where their training would begin. The training was overseen by the chief priestess, the Vestalis Maxima, who came under the authority of the Pontifex Maximus. The first 10 years were spent training for their duties. They would spend the second decade actively administering rites, and the final 10 were spent training novices. The chastity of the priestesses was a reflection of the health of Rome itself. Although spilling a virgin’s blood to kill her was a sin, this did not preclude the infliction of harsh corporal punishment. First-century historian Plutarch writes: “If these Vestals commit any minor fault, they are punishable by the high-priest only, who scourges the offender.”

Public monies and donations to the order funded the cult and the priestesses. In Rome religion and government were tightly intertwined. The organization of the state closely mirrored that of the basic Roman institution: the family. The center of life of the Roman home, or domus, was the hearth, tended by the matriarch for the good of her family and husband. In the same way, the Vestals tended Vesta’s flame for the good of the state.

A silver denarius, also from the second century B.C., bears a representation of the circular Temple of Vesta.

Unlike other Roman women, Vestals enjoyed certain privileges: In addition to being able to own property and enjoying certain tax exemptions, Vestals were emancipated from their family’s patria potestas, patriarchal power. They could make their own wills and give evidence in a court of law without being obliged to swear an oath.

Thirty Years of Chastity

These rights came at a high price: 30 years of enforced chastity. Many historians believe that the health of the state was tied to the virtue of its women; because the Vestals’ purity was both highly visible and holy, penalties for a Vestal breaking her vow of chastity were draconian. As it was forbidden to shed a Vestal Virgin’s blood, the method of execution was immuration: being bricked up in a chamber and left to starve to death. Punishment for her sexual partner was just as brutal: death by whipping. Throughout Roman history, instances are cited of these grim sentences being passed.

Jealousy or malice made the women vulnerable to false accusations. One story, celebrated by several Roman writers, concerns the miracle of the Vestal Virgin Tuccia, who was falsely accused of being unchaste. According to tradition, Tuccia beseeched Vesta for help and miraculously proved her innocence by carrying a sieve full of water from the Tiber.

Allegations of crimes against the Vestals’ chastity sometimes went to the top of the social order. The flamboyantly eccentric, third-century emperor Elagabalus actually married a serving Vestal Virgin. It is a sign of the enduring symbolic importance of the cult that this heresy was one major factor that led to his deposal and murder.

The Vestal Tuccia, falsey accused of breaking her chastity vow, is saved by the intervention of Vesta, who enables her to carry water in a sieve from the Tiber back to the temple. 17th-century painting by Giovanni Battista Beinaschi.

Vestal Vestments

The ceremonial dress of Vestals highlights their dual, and somewhat contradictory, embodiment of both the maternal and the chaste. Physical appearance was an integral part of their role, making them stand out as different from other women, but also echoing physical traits of conventional women.

Dressed in white, the color of purity, the Vestal Virgins wore stola, long gowns worn by Roman matrons. Hair and headdresses played an important symbolic function. The Vestal hairstyle is described in Roman sources using an ancient Latin phrase, the seni crines. Historians cautiously agree it means “sixbraids,” and is mentioned as the coiffure of both Vestal Virgins and brides. A Vestal wore the suffibulum, a short, white cloth similar to a bride’s veil, kept in place with a brooch, the fibula. Around their heads they wore a headband, the infula, which was associated with Roman matrons.

Daily rites for Vestals were often centered around the temple. Most important was maintaining the holy fire. If the fire went out, the attending Vestals would be suspected not only of neglect but also of licentiousness, since it was believed impurity in a Vestal’s relations would cause a fire to go out. Other typical duties included the purification of the temple with water, which had to be drawn from a running stream. In readiness for the numerous festivals that required their attendance, the priestesses were required to bake salsa mola, a cake of meal and salt that was sprinkled on the horns of sacrificed animals. Important religious festivals included the Vestalia, dedicated to their goddess, Vesta, and the Lupercalia, which highlights the contradictory role of the Vestal Virgins, as it was closely associated with fertility.

A representation of a Vestal Virgin.

A Roman Tradition

A bust of Numa Pompilius from the Villa Albani Museum in Rome, believed to have been sculpted in the Roman Imperial Period.

Romans believed the cult of the Vestal Virgins was instituted under the eighth-century B.C. king Numa Pompilius, the successor of Rome’s founder, Romulus. First-century A.D. historian Plutarch wrote that Numa may have “considered the nature of fire to be pure and uncorrupted and so entrusted it to uncontaminated and undefiled bodies.“ Numa is credited by Livy, in his History of Rome, with formalizing other key Roman cults, including those of Jupiter and Mars. Many historians believe Numa was legendary, and that the worship of Vesta and other cults developed slowly out of pre-Roman customs, perhaps dating back to the older Etruscan culture that dominated Italy before the rise of Rome.

In the innermost part of their temple, the priestesses looked after their secret talismans. Among these objects was the sacred phallus, the fascinus, the representation of a minor god of the same name. The fascinus (the root of the word “fascinate”) is closely bound with magic and fertility. It was also in this part of the temple that they probably kept the palladium, the statue of Pallas Athena that the legendary founder of Rome, Aeneas, brought to Italy after the destruction of Troy, his home city—another aspect of the Vestal cult that tied Rome’s origins into an ennobling and ancient tradition.

Romans regarded these priestesses with a sense of awe. Plutarch points out “they were also keepers of other divine secrets, concealed from all but themselves.” It was believed they possessed magical powers: If anybody condemned to death saw a Vestal on his way to being executed, he was to be freed, so long as it could be proven the meeting was not by design. Vestals, it was said, could stop a runaway slave in his tracks.

The privileged position of the Vestal Virgins in Roman society survived for more than a thousand years, passing through Rome’s changing systems of monarchy, republic, and empire. The cult would not, however, survive Christianity. In A.D. 394 Theodosius closed the House of the Vestals forever, freeing the virgins from their obligations, but also removing their privileges.

VIEW OF THE VESTAThe ruins of the Atrium Vestae stand in the Roman Forum. The rectangular pools formed a part of the complex’s long, central patio. To the right of the Atrium are the remains of the Temple of Vesta, and behind the wall are the three remaining columns of the Temple of Castor and Pollux.

Even as their flame was extinguished, aspects of the cult may have passed into the new faith as it swept through the Mediterranean. Just as the position of the Pontifex Maximus lived on in the papal title “pontiff,” young women in the early years of Roman Christianity embraced virginity and celibacy in their desire to be “eunuchs for the love of heaven.” Scholars believe the role of the Christian nun was inspired, in part, by the chaste figures who dutifully tended the holy flame of Vesta.

By Elda Biggi.

[spacealligator]

Uzushiokagure Headcanons

I did a similar post about Kiri and a anon ask got me thinking about making one for Uzushio too! Here are some world building headcannons for Uzushiogakure:

Geography

Uzushio is located in a place with high temperatures and high humidity

likely to be hit with tropical storms, hurricanes, monsons

constant singing of the cicadas as if it's always summer

scorching sun coupled with heavy rain that doesn’t appease the heat

there are no defined seasons, it’s always hot, sunny and rainy

the seas around Uzushio are very hard do navigate, it makes it hard to get to them

the island is located close to the forests of Fire Country coast, so they also have lush green vegetation in Uzushio

Architecture

houses have to be built to withstand recurring natural disasters

subterranean shelters for the tornados, though those also get flooded during the storms sometimes

heavy building materials like stone and concrete instead of wood for example, to withstand the storms

stone also helps with cooling the temperature inside the houses

streets are not paved in anyway to help with drainage, so it's nostly grass and dirt

circular and rounded buildings as a reference to the whirpool also help them withstand the strong winds

People (the Uzumaki Clan)

big chakra reserves, great lifeforce, a lot of energy, long lifespans

they are like that because they are so close in lineage to the Sage of Six Paths

during the warring states era the Uzumaki were known as the people close to the heavens and blessed by the gods

Uzumakis are mostly extroverts and fiery, like Naruto, Kushina and Karin, but Uzumakis like Mito and Nagato, that don’t follow most stereotypes still have that fire burning inside them, they won’t settle, they know what they want, are strongwilled, strongheaded, a bit stubborn and passionate, so really, it’s not because they aren’t loud mouths that they aren’t Uzumakis where it matters

big sense of community and family

even after the massacre of Uzushio, Uzumakis tried to flee together and stick together, building their communities and helping each other wherever they went

Religion & Spirituality

since they have so much chakra and are so close to the gods and the Sage of Six Paths, they're deeply religious people

tons of temples and shrines and little altars spread around the city for a variety of gods

there are small altars inside people's homes too

a lot of rituals bring the Uzushio people together, there are seasonal festivals, parties in honor of the gods, start of harvest season banquets, offerings, weekly meetings on the temple, there are several recurring events linked to temples and gods that make up for most of their social lives

because of that the city is always decorated for some sort of festivities, it’s always very bright and colorful, and even if someone doesn't worship that particular divinity or is not involved in that event, they will still go to the event and celebrate together

Economy

since they're so isolated from a geographical standpoint, trade is not big on the region

no merchant marine or trade routes established with other countries

very closed economy, meaning they had to become self sustained

a lot of farmers between them, since the climate and soil favors tropical vegetation

even if it’s an island, their economy doesn’t revolve around fishing only, because the Uzumakis like their meat, so they also have a lot of cattle, mainly pigs, goats and chicken

they are hired by different villages and people at a very expensive price because their shinobi are very skilled, and an Uzumaki shinobi is never on low demand

shinobi activity is what drives the city's economy

in second comes money from services linked to the temples such as talismans, exorcisms, blessings, burials and others

the money from shinobi missions are reverted to the civillians too, but in general there are no conflict between what civillians want and what shinobis want

Politics

the Uzukage is always chosen by combat, they must be the strongest shinobi in the village at any given time

democratic system of sorts, since at any time anyone can challenge the Uzukage, because they should be able to hold his own, otherwise, they weren't fit to rule the village any way

the challenge is always public, always in form of a battle and always needs to be accepted or you lose by default

there are no main families or branch members like the Hyugas have, the Uzumaki stand in equal footing with each other

but of course there are different groups and parties, with people trying to connect themselves with a poweful shinobi, hoping for them to achieve the position of Uzukage and do their wish

for example, when Uzushio alligned themselves with Konoha there were people in favor and against it, at the time Mito was the second strongest shinobi in Uzushio, so she chose to help strengthen the bond by marrying Hashirama

local politics are not based on blood or lineage, only in power and political opinions

regarding international affairs, Uzushio spent a lot of time defending themselves from attackers

it's mostly an easy thing for them, since Uzumakis are strong and the way to Uzushio is long and hard but there are always constant ruckus on the borders

Culture

wear a lot of traditional clothing due to their religious traditions

people refer to others by their first name, since most of the population comes from the Uzumaki clan, and also because everybody is close and not very shy

they have great handwriting from practicing writing seals and talismans so much

very wary of spirits and respectful of the desires of the land and its creatures

not afraid of ghosts, or the dark, or haunted houses, they are very serious about leading a life in harmony with all the forces at play, including spiritual ones

big on oral tradition and not so much on the written records because: first everybody knows stuff, knowledge sharing is common and encouraged, and second, the elders and professors would live very long, so they can teach the youth themselves, instead of writing it for posterity, and that’s why after Uzushio was attacked, a lot of knowledge was lost

a lot of nursery rhymes, lullabies, supersticions, old wives' tales and popular sayings are passed down to the new generations

they also read cards, stones, tea leaves, stars, palm lines, whatever there is to draw their luck on

big eaters, all that chakra and boundless energy means they need a lot of food to fuel themselves

their cuisine is all about abundance, a lot of protein and fat, always a big volume of food, a lot of seasoning, spices, condiments, and such, loud flavors

they don't focus on veggies, fruits and baking as much as i meat, warm dishes, broth, and of course lamen

they put a lot of meaning and importance in getting together for a meal, it's a core moment for the familiar and comunal lives

the city closes during lunch so everybody can go back home to have lunch with their families and/or friends and be together in quality time

festivals often have banquets or traditional dishes linked to them, along with competitions for the biggest eater, and Uzumaki are very competitive

they're also big in games: card games, mahjong, shogi, go, dominos, bocce, drinking games and so on

there are also games that are linked with specific festivals and times of the year

they're great drinkers because of their big chakra reserves

Shinobi World

shamanism and shinobi activities blur, priests and priestesses make for great shinobi and vice versa

most of the shinobi are sensors, even some civillians are sensors

specialized in sealing

focused on research knowledge about minor gods and yokais, that's why they have things like the reaper death seal and can summon shinigamis and spiritual beings

they hunt for yokais like goddamn pokemon, and the tailed beasts were just an extention of that

when Hashirama sealed Kurama in Mito, the sealing of tailed beasts were already under research by the Uzumakis and she was the one who volunteered for it, they just needed someone like Hashirama, the god of shinobi to activate the seal

[viktorviolettaenterprises]

Glock Pistols Series (Tribute to Gaston Glock)

GET YOURS HERE!!!

Just remastered some old works of the Glock Pistol Series as a tribute to the late Gaston Glock, the inventor of the Glock Pistol that has significantly contributed to the firearms industry since 1982. Rest in peace, sir. Your legacy will remain in our hearts, and your contribution to the firearms industry, especially pistols in Late 20th Century. Sorry For Late Tribute Post. I Need to Find the Best Glock Model for this Tribute and Improving the Existing Models Thank you @exzentra-reblog @coffee-cc-finds @bdangkingfish @evgenyesipov1999 @sparkiekong @helenofsimblr @igglemouse

Known for its distinct shape like a box, Glock emphasizes its tradition of perfection in almost every design they issue. The journey began in 1982 when Glock Ges.mbH introduced their 17th patent, which would later be known as the Glock 17. It is a 9mm-chambered pistol that would change the mindset of the sidearm industry. Although not the first polymer-made pistol (the first was an HK VP70), it offered the value of a lightweight, high-capacity magazine pistol. The Glock 17 entered the US market in 1986. Despite initial rejection by both Glock and the US Military as a replacement for the 1911, Glock started to capture the attention of American police departments (PDs).

By 1987, it began to be adopted by police departments, with others following suit in issuing Glocks as their standard sidearm. The key to Glock's success in police departments lies in its affordable price, ease of maintenance, numerous interchangeable parts, and, of course, the double-trigger system. Although it may be challenging to execute a follow-up shot quickly, it ensures safety when the pistol is not in use. Additionally, this sidearm is popular for deployment alongside the Secret Service.

In this case, VVE covers some of the Glock series to the SimVerse usage, like :

Standard

Standards Glocks are full-sized pistols that are designed for duty and home defense use. Barrel lengths are 4.49 inches and 4.61 inches depending on caliber. Standard-sized Glocks are some of the most commonly sold pistols and strike the right balance between size, weight, and controllability.

Glock 17

The Glock 17 is the original 9×19mm Parabellum model, with a standard magazine capacity of 17 rounds, introduced in 1982. Glock also offers a version of the standard magazine which incorporates a longer "+2" base plate to provide a capacity of 19 rounds. Also, a 10-round version of the standard magazine was created for markets that restrict the magazine capacity of handguns. And, Glock offers an extended 24 round (with flush base plate) magazine for the Glock 17. Finally, the Glock 17 can use the Glock 18's extended 33 round (with +2 base plate) magazine. The base plates for the extended magazines can be swapped out to create 26 and 31 round magazines as well

Thank you For @effiethejay For NYPD Uniform!

Glock 22

Also a standard-barrel version, but in this case, with a silver sliding) in Reality this is Just A Glock 17 Chambered with 40 Smith & Wesson for Better Punch. Perfect Pistol For FBI And Law Enforcement who looking better Punch but Maintain Controllability.

GLOCK 18

The Glock 18 is a Select Version variant of the Glock 17, designed for the Austrian counter-terrorist unit EKO Cobra. Introduced in 1986, it features a selective-fire option, allowing both fully automatic (1,100–1,200 RPM) and semi-automatic firing modes. The circular selector switch on the rear left side of the slide controls the firing mode. The pistol is often equipped with a 33-round magazine and can be used with or without a shoulder stock for added stability. This Particular Model is First Production of Glock 18 which marked by Extended Barrel and Lack of Compensator to Reduce the Recoil.

Thank you For @plazasims For Jill Valentine outfit & @mimoto-sims For Pose

GLOCK 18C

The Improved Model Of Glock 18. The compensator cuts start about halfway back on the top of the barrel. The two rear cuts are narrower than the two front cuts. The slide is hollowed, or dished-out, in a rectangular pattern between the rear of the ejection port and the rear sight. The rate of fire in fully automatic mode is around 1,100–1,200 rounds per minute. Most of the other characteristics are equivalent to the Glock 17, although the slide, frame, and certain fire-control parts of the Glock 18 are not interchangeable with other Glock models.

Thank you For @pandorassims4cc For Pose

Compact

Compact is a relative term. These Glocks are still somewhat large with barrel lengths of 4.02 inches and grips that fill your hand. The slightly shorter grip and barrel length allow them to be easier to conceal and more comfortable to carry while maintaining control over the gun. That being said, this is the most popular category of the Glock sizes.

GLOCK 19

The Glock 19 is effectively a reduced-size Glock 17, called the "Compact" by the manufacturer. It was first produced in 1988, primarily for military and law enforcement. The Glock 19's barrel and pistol grip are shorter by about 12 mm (0.5 in) than the Glock 17, and it uses a magazine with a standard capacity of 15 rounds. A 10 round version of this magazine is also made for markets that restrict the magazine capacity of handguns. And, a "+2" base plate can make the standard magazine into a longer 17 round magazine. The pistol is also compatible with any magazines designed for the Glock 17 and Glock 18, providing factory magazine capacities of 17, 19, 24 and 33. Changing out base plates adds capacities of 26 or 31 rounds.

Subcompact

Subcompact Glocks are designed to be concealed carry weapons and backup guns. These guns sport ultra-short frames, and barrel lengths vary between 3.43 inches and 3.78 inches depending on caliber. These guns are straightforward to carry and conceal in almost any way you want.

The Glock 26, a 9×19mm "subcompact" variant designed for concealed carry, was introduced in 1995, primarily for the civilian market. It has also been acquired by the US military and designated MK 26. Featuring a smaller frame compared to the Glock 19, the pistol grip supports only two fingers, and it has a shorter barrel and slide, along with a double-stack magazine with a standard capacity of 10 rounds. A factory magazine with a +2 extension gives it a capacity of 12 rounds. Additionally, the Glock 26 can use factory magazines from the Glock 17, Glock 18, and Glock 19. One can swap out base plates to give it capacities of 15, 17, 19, 24, 26, 31, and 33 rounds. More than simply a "shortened" Glock 19, the design of the subcompact Glock 26 required extensive rework of the frame, locking block, and spring assembly, which features a dual recoil spring.

Competition & Long Slide

By bigger than full-size, we are talking about guns mostly made for competition shooting. They have standard sized frames but longer slides and barrels. The longer slide and barrel gives a longer sight radius and a higher velocity, as well as less recoil and muzzle flip.

GLOCK 34

The Glock 34 is a competition version of the Glock 17. It is similar to its predecessor, the Glock 17L, but with a slightly shorter slide and barrel, to meet the maximum size requirements for many sanctioned action pistol sporting events. It was developed and produced in 1998, and compared to the Glock 17, features a 21 mm (0.8 in) longer barrel and slide. It has an extended magazine release, extended slide stop lever, 20 N trigger pull, and an adjustable rear sight. The sides at the front of the slide are slanted instead of squared. Further, the top of the slide and parts of its inside are milled out, creating a conspicuous hole at the top designed to reduce front-end muzzle weight to better balance the pistol and reduce the overall weight of the slide. The Glock 34 can accept any magazine the Glock 17 can accept.

[lonestarflight]

Cancelled Missions: Apollo AS-204 (aka Apollo 1)

Planned Launched: February 21, 1967

Commander Pilot:CDP Virgil I. Grissom

CM Pilot:CMP Edward H.White.II

LM Pilot:LMP Roger B. Chaffee

The tragic fire that claimed the lives of Gus Grissom, Ed White and Roger Chaffe and postponed the debut manned flight of the Apollo Spacecraft. The Apollo AS-204 was cancelled as NASA officials investigated the cause of the fire and came up with changes to the block II Command Module, set to debut now on Apollo 7. Set back Apollo program by 18 months. This deserves its own post

Here is what was originally planned for the first manned mission (C-type) of the Apollo Command and Service Module:

"Originally planned for the last quarter of 1966. Numerous problems with the Apollo Block I spacecraft resulted in a flight delay to February 1967. The designation AS-204 was used by NASA for the flight at the time; the designation Apollo 1 was applied retroactively at the request of Grissom's widow.

Apollo 205, a second solo flight test of the Block I Apollo CSM, was planned but cancelled on December 22, 1966. The Schirra, Cunningham, Eisele crew from that flight became the backup crew to Apollo 204 (replacing the original backup crew of McDivitt, Scott, Schweickart)."

-Information from Astronautix.com: link

One proposal was to launch Gemini 11 (or 12 or both) and Apollo 1 at the same time and rendezvous in orbit. If the first two Apollo missions (AS-201 and AS-202) were a failure, then AS-204 (AS-203 did not carry a CSM) would be flown unmanned and a Gemini astronaut would EVA transfer to and enter the CSM-012, check out its systems, and return to the Gemini. However, with the delays with getting CSM-012 ready, having to reconfigure the Gemini capsule to work with Apollo and the eagerness to finish Gemini to focus on Apollo, this proposal was cancelled.

"The Apollo 1 prime crewmembers for the first manned Apollo Mission (204) prepare to enter their spacecraft inside the altitude chamber at the Kennedy Space Center (KSC). Entering the hatch is astronaut Virgil I. Grissom, commander; behind him is astronaut Roger B. Chaffee, lunar module pilot; standing at the left with chamber technicians is astronaut Edward H. White II, command module pilot."

"For the first two and a half hours in orbit, CSM-012 would remain attached to the S-IVB stage much as a Moon-bound Apollo would do prior to trans-lunar injection. After separation of the CSM, Grissom would perform a station keeping exercise with the spent S-IVB stage so that White and Chaffee could photograph the stage as it vented its residual propellants. This would provide vital observations on the behavior of the S-IVB stage to aid in planning future mission activities.

At this point, Apollo 1 would perform an open-ended mission which could last for as little as six orbits in order to meet at least the highest priority mission objectives or as long as two weeks, provided that CSM-012 continued to function adequately. The primary objectives of the mission basically centered on testing all the systems of the Block I Apollo spacecraft during ascent, in orbit and during descent. The first pair of firings of the SM’s SPS would take place the day after launch to raise and circularize the orbit of Apollo 1. No attempts would be made to perform a rendezvous with the spent S-IVB stage. Afterwards, burns of the SPS were planned to be performed every other day during the course of the mission with each astronaut taking turns in the left-side commander’s seat – three burns each by Grissom and White as well as two burns by Chaffee. Apollo 1 would carry a television camera which would allow live broadcasts from inside the CM cabin during the mission. The camera would also allow ground controllers to monitor the CM’s control panel during key parts of the flight.

In addition to the laundry list of systems checks, Apollo 1 also carried an array of hardware to perform a total of nine medical, scientific and technological experiments during its long orbital mission. These consisted of the following:

The storage locations of some of the hardware for flight experiments inside the Apollo 1 cabin.

M-3A In-Flight Exerciser: This was simply a pair of bungee cords that would loop around the astronaut’s feet and grasped by the hand via a handle. Each astronaut would spend three ten-minute sessions each day exercising with this device to determine the utility of in-flight exercise to stave off the effects of prolonged weightlessness. A similar M-3 experiment was flown on the Gemini 4, 5 and 7 long-duration missions during 1965.

Diagram showing the M-3A exercise experiment that would have been carried by Apollo 1.

M-4A In-Flight Phonocardiogram: The purpose of this experiment was to produce in-flight recordings of the crew’s heartbeat to determine the effects of weightlessness on heart function. Grissom and Chaffee would be the subjects of these tests. This was similar to the M-4 experiment flown on the long-duration Gemini missions.

M-6A Bone Demineralization: The goal of this experiment was to determine the effects of weightlessness on the demineralization of certain bones in the body. This experiment required no special in-flight equipment and would rely on measurements derived from X-rays taken before and after the flight from all three crew members. Once again, this was similar to the M-6 experiment performed during the long-duration Gemini missions.

M-9A Human Otolith Function: The objective of this experiment was to determine the effect of prolonged weightlessness on an astronauts sense of orientation. Each crew member would spend 15 minutes each day in orbit wearing a set of test goggles with their responses recorded by a 16 mm movie camera. A similar experiment was conducted during the Gemini 5 and 7 missions.

M-11 Cytogenetic Blood Studies: This experiment sought to determine if the space environment produced cellular changes in the blood of the crew. No in-flight equipment was required with the necessary data coming from blood samples taken from all three crewmen at set intervals before and after the mission.

M-48 Cardiovascular Reflex Conditioning: In this experiment, one of the astronauts would don a set of vascular support tights one or two hours before the end of the mission to determine if such a garment helps prevent physical fatigue blood pooling in the lower body following return to Earth.

S-5A Synoptic Terrain Photography: This was similar to the S-5 experiment flown on most of the earlier Gemini missions. The crew would use a 70 mm Hasselblad camera to perform near nadir-viewing photography of the Earth during 9 AM to 3 PM local time. Two color film packs with a total of 110 exposures were to be carried on the Apollo 1 mission.

Diagram showing the in-flight stowage of the camera and film packs for the S-5A and S-6A experiments on the inside CM crew hatch.

S-6A Synoptic Weather Photography: Similar to the S-6 experiment conducted on most of the Gemini missions, the purpose of this investigation was to provide orbital photographs of weather phenomena at a much higher resolution than was possible with contemporary weather satellites like NASA’s TIROS or Nimbus satellites. One color and one color-shifted infrared film packet along with an ultraviolet filter for the camera would be carried to support this experiment.

T-3 In-Flight Nephelometer: This experiment used a device to measure the size, concentration and distribution of particles present inside the CM cabin. Measurements would be made every six hours starting two days into the mission."

-Information from DrewExMachina: link

The mission was scheduled to last about 2 weeks and would have been recovered by USS ESSEX (CV-9) in the Pacific Ocean on March 7, 1967.

- Apollo 1 mission patch

NASA ID: S66-30236, S66-58038, S66-36742

source, source

[come-down-that-tree]

Prologue Previous

Come Down That Tree! (An aftermare story)

Epilogue

Deep inside a forest, if you follow a thin river south for a while, you may fall on rocks positioned in special ways, creating zones for different uses.

If you walk through bushes and trees, following a path that was paved by feet over years of walking on the dirt, you may find a circular clearing with a young tree bearing peculiar fruits, a strawberry plant with a barrier surrounding it and one old wooden house.

And there, you may encounter a family of four, happily living their day isolated from most of the world.

Not that they did not engage with people once in a while.

In fact they often exchanged goods and services with traveling merchants that had the habit of setting up their camp just outside that particular forest.

They came carrying foreign objects and exotic food and stories that sounded like made up legends that animated talks around the fire during long nights of rest before they all scattered again to do their job.

“Did you hear about the village in the east, the one just 4 days away if you walk fast?” one would whisper over shared drinks and salted meat.

“That one? Someone told me an ancient evil burned their joy away and stole their knowledge for the faes. No business to have there, they’re barelly capable of living without someone holding their hand.” would answer another.

“I heard it was a punishment for chasing out the queen of the fireflies, she was noisy and they threw her out!” would add a third.

“So many people left the place, it made room for ghosts and if you stand under the moonlight you may have the honor of watching their monarchs dancing together around a fountain made of stone so white you can go blind from just watching it,” would exclaim the last one.

And then they would turn their heads to their guests, the two of them, sometimes one, never the three at the same time, and ask “you, who live not so far away, do you know which is true?”

One would answer a different one each time.

The second would smile politely and divert the conversation.

The last one would argue they all were wrong and tell a tale that was so preposterous that the travelers would all laugh so hard, some would always fall from their seats from the sheer absurdity.

And after, they would part ways, without ceremony, confident they would see the residents again, next time they roamed in the region.

And the family would go back home, sort their newly acquired supplies and go to sleep.

During the day, shouts and laughter sometimes tore apart the tranquility of the wood, disturbing the wild life who despite the ruckus stayed close.

One particular shout could be heard at any hour. Be it day, be it night. It seemed that it was used at least once a day and bore no real effectiveness on the matter it addressed.

Open your ear and you might hear it.

Here it is.

“VIVID! COME DOWN THAT TREE!”

The true end-

@dragon-tamer-1 @shinechermont <3

mmmmm Here it is... CDTT ends here...

I, uh, dunno how to feel about it XDc

I posted the prologue the 3rd of june 2021, 3 years ago.

But if we go by when I first wrote the whole plot (and posted it, there was no surprise for who was around and read it at the time XDc), it was in february of this same year I went down the rabbit hole (with some great company ;3).

And if we talk about the day I got interested by the ship? The 31st of january 2021 because of one ask from Cyan anon (everybody claps for Cyan without this fic would not have existed). I was not even supposed to be online XDc I was on a study hiatus but I kinda broke it down to talk about the rarepair pfffft uwu

My reason I latched that hard on the ship? I feel like it's a chill one and I liked that. They're quiet and just vibing for me.

I'm not much of a ship person in fact, contrary to some of my online friends (simps all of you), a story only focusing on romance tend to bore me so writing a shipfic? A challenge.

I also never finished a longfic before. Be it original of fanfic.

Only one-shots or short stuff (3-4 chaps) have been ended somewhat properly.

The doc containing CDTT is 112 pages long, removing the summary and other worldbuilding stuff would only shrink it down to like 110.

I think that's pretty big.

Not huge, I've seen far longer.

But big.

I would not have managed that without you all' comments and tags pushing me forward.

So, truly, thank you for reading :D

(special thanks to AC and Drag')

Goodbye (for now)

[mariacallous]

The ballistic missile hit the Rubymar on the evening of February 18. For months, the cargo ship had been shuttling around the Arabian Sea, uneventfully calling at local ports. But now, taking on water in the bottleneck of the Bab-el-Mandeb Strait, its two dozen crew issued an urgent call for help and prepared to abandon ship.

Over the next two weeks—while the crew were ashore—the “ghost ship” took on a life of its own. Carried by currents and pushed along by the wind, the 171-meter-long, 27-meter-wide Rubymar drifted approximately 30 nautical miles north, where it finally sank—becoming the most high-profile wreckage during a months-long barrage of missiles and drones launched by Iranian-backed Houthi rebels in Yemen. The attacks have upended global shipping.

But the Rubymar wasn’t the only casualty. During its final journey, three internet cables laid on the seafloor in the Bab-el-Mandeb Strait were damaged. The drop in connectivity impacted millions of people, from nearby East Africa to thousands of miles away in Vietnam. It’s believed the ship’s trailing anchor may have broken the cables while it drifted. The Rubymar also took 21,000 metric tons of fertilizer to its watery grave—a potential environmental disaster in waiting.

An analysis from WIRED—based on satellite imagery, interviews with maritime experts, and new internet connectivity data showing the cables went offline within minutes of each other—tracks the last movements of the doomed ship. While our analysis cannot definitively show that the anchor caused the damage to the crucial internet cables—that can only be determined by an upcoming repair mission—multiple experts conclude it is the most likely scenario.

The damage to the internet cables comes when the security of subsea infrastructure—including internet cables and energy pipelines—has catapulted up countries’ priorities. Politicians have become increasingly concerned about the critical infrastructure since the start of the Russia-Ukraine war in February 2022 and a subsequent string of potential sabotage, including the Nord Stream pipeline explosions. As Houthi weapons keep hitting ships in the Red Sea region, there are worries the Rubymar may not be the last shipwreck.

The Rubymar’s official trail goes cold on February 18. At 8 pm local time, reports emerged that a ship in the Bab-el-Mandeb Strait, which is also known as the Gate of Tears or the Gate of Grief, had been attacked. Two anti-ship ballistic missiles were fired from “Iranian-backed Houthi terrorist-controlled areas of Yemen,” US Central Command said. Ninety minutes after the warnings arrived, at around 9:30 pm, the Rubymar broadcast its final location using the automatic identification system (AIS), a GPS-like positioning system used to track ships.

As water started pouring into the hull, engine room, and machinery room, the crew’s distress call was answered by the Lobivia—a nearby container ship—and a US-led coalition warship. By 1:57 am on February 19, the crew was reported safe. That afternoon, the 11 Syrians, six Egyptians, three Indians, and four Filipinos who were on board arrived at the Port of Djibouti. “We do not know the coordinates of Rubymar,” Djibouti’s port authority posted on X.

Satellite images picked up the Rubymar, its path illuminated by an oil slick, two days later, on February 20. Although the crew dropped the ship’s anchor during the rescue, the ship drifted north, further up the strait in the direction of the Red Sea.

For three days, satellite photos show, the vessel largely stayed in place thanks to low winds and weak currents. Then, on February 22, satellite images show peculiar circular wave patterns hitting the ship, as seen in the image below. One former naval intelligence analyst familiar with the images, who asked not to be named for safety reasons, says this could be a sign the anchor may have come loose. One image, they say, appears to show an unidentified object, which could be a small boat, nearby.

Both the wind and currents picked up on February 23, when the ship began drifting for a second time, says Robert Parkington, an intelligence analyst with geospatial analysis firm Geollect. “As wind increases, as current increases, that chance for movement gets so much higher,” says Parkington, who monitored the Rubymar’s movements with data from satellite technology firm Spire Global. “Even a small breeze can have an impact on where the vessel’s moving.”

More than 550 internet cables run along the ocean floors and connect the world. They link continents and economies, beaming everything from Zoom calls to financial transactions every millisecond. Twelve of the cables run through the Bab-el-Mandeb Strait, says Alan Mauldin, research director at telecom research firm TeleGeography. “These cables vary massively in their age, also in their capacities,” Mauldin explains. The region is a crucial, but vulnerable, choke point.

While the Rubymar was drifting, three cables were damaged: the Seacom/Tata cable, a 15,000-kilometer-long wire running the length of East Africa and also connecting it to India; the Asia Africa Europe-1 (AAE-1), which snakes 25,000 kilometers and links Europe to East Asia; and the Europe India Gateway (EIG), made of 15,000 kilometers of cable and joining India with the United Kingdom.

The Seacom cable went down at 9:46 am on February 24, according to new analysis shared exclusively with WIRED by Doug Madory, director of internet analysis at the web monitoring firm Kentik. Five minutes later, at around 9:51 am, the AAE-1 cable dropped offline. Madory says the third damaged cable, EIG, was already mostly offline following a separate fault elsewhere. A telecom industry notice seen by WIRED confirms the three faults and says this was the EIG’s second. The notice says the damage is located around 30 kilometers away from where the cables land in Djibouti and are at depths of around 150 meters.

To determine when the cables lost connectivity, Madory examined internet traffic and routing data from multiple networks. For instance, a network linked to Equity Bank Tanzania, the analysis shows, lost connectivity from the Seacom cable; moments later, it was impacted by the AAE-1 damage. The two clusters of outages impacted countries in East Africa, including Tanzania, Kenya, Uganda, and Mozambique, Madory says. But they also had an impact thousands of miles away in Vietnam, Thailand, and Singapore. “The loss of these submarine cables disrupted internet service for millions of people,” he says. “While service providers in the affected countries have shifted to using the remaining cables, there exists a loss of overall capacity.” The analysis matches when the Seacom cable went offline, says Prenesh Padayachee, the company’s chief digital officer. Both AAE and EIG cables are owned by consortiums of companies, which did not respond to requests for comment.

The telecom industry builds backups into its systems to account for disruptions—and the approach mostly works. When one cable goes offline, traffic is sent via other routes. “Connectivity just went away,” says Thomas King, the chief technology officer of German-based internet exchange DE-CIX, which used the AAE-1 cables. “The issue was detected automatically. Rerouting happens also automatically,” King says. Other firms sent data on different paths around the world.

In the days after damage to the cables first emerged, one unconfirmed press report claimed Houthi rebels could have sabotaged the cables. There has been no public evidence to support this. Farzin Nadimi, a senior fellow at the Washington Institute think tank who has been monitoring the region, says it is most likely that the Rubymar damaged the cables, but Houthi sabotage should not be entirely ruled out, as “highly trained” divers could reach the cables’ depths. Telecom firms have reported fears about Houthi damage to cables, while Houthi spokespeople have repeatedly denied responsibility for the disruptions.

“We don’t even know if the cable is fully broken yet,” Padayachee says. “All we know is that the cable is damaged to a level where we’ve lost comms.” It could have been cut, or even dragged along the seabed and bent so light signals cannot pass through the cable, he says.

Many in the marine and cable industry have turned toward the Rubymar’s drift as the likely cause for the outage. Padayachee says it is the most “plausible” scenario given the ship’s predicted drifting speed. “If you work out the distance between the two cables that roughly relates to the same sort of timeframe as to when one cable will be affected to when the other cable will be affected,” the timing makes sense, he says, adding that the cables are 700 to 1,000 meters apart.

Anchor damage, alongside earthquakes and landslides, is one of the most common ways subsea internet cables are disrupted. For instance, multiple cables in the Red Sea region were damaged by a ship dragging its anchor in 2012. There are also several types of anchor, explain William Coombs and Michael Brown, professors at Durham University and the University of Dundee, respectively, who are researching the dynamics of anchors and how they can damage underwater cables. Some anchors sit on the seabed while others dig into the ground, they say. “If the soil type is not right, and the cable has quite shallow burial or it is on the seabed, you are going to catch it if your anchor starts to drag,” Brown says.

“Considering the timings of when outages were reported, considering the rough location of where those cables are known to be, and considering where we believe to be the location of the Rubymar, I would say that there is a likely possibility that the anchor did cause the damage,” says Parkington of Geollect.

The Rubymar finally sank on March 2. Videos reportedly taken inside the ship, gathered by Saudi state-owned news organization Al Arabiya English, show water gushing into the ship after the missile strike. As the Rubymar took on more water and partially submerged, experts say, its drifting likely slowed and eventually brought it to a complete stop.

While the ship has finished its journey, the three internet cables will remain offline for some time. Padayachee, from Seacom, says that the Yemeni government is likely to approve permits for the company’s repair plans in the next couple of weeks, with repairs to all three damaged cables possibly starting later in April.

Padayachee says that additional security measures are being put in place for the operation, but the repair work itself should be relatively straightforward. The repairs are taking place in water only a couple of hundred meters deep—shallow compared to other cases where cables are more than a mile deep. When the cables are pulled out of the water by the repair crew, it should be possible to say whether the cuts were caused by the anchor or deliberately.

The Rubymar presents one potential final challenge: Padayachee says the location of the cable damage is believed to be around one or two miles away from where the ship sank. “It doesn’t look like it will affect anything in the repair operation,” he says. “It could change by the time they get there: The vessel may have moved or, in fact, the vessel may have broken up and parts of it moved around.” The US Central Command has said the Rubymar also presents a “subsurface impact risk to other ships.”

The Houthi’s missile launches, meanwhile, don’t look like they will stop any time soon. Other ships have been damaged; lives have been lost, and those factors will impact repairs. “It's not something you usually see: trying to have a cable ship into those waters, recover the cable, make a repair, and then be able to return to port. It's a long process. It’s risky,” says Mauldin, from TeleGeography. The risk, for other internet cables, is a repeat of the Rubymar. “It is not out of the question,” Madory concludes in his analysis, “that we could have another vessel, struck by a missile, inadvertently cut another submarine cable.”

[ashtarels-archives]

Cathedral of Eternal Night: Lost Sanctum of the Sisterhood of Elune

Cathedral of Eternal Night, perhaps called "Azshal'adora" in Darnassian.

These were the uppermost chambers of the Temple of Elune, now known as the Tomb of Sargeras. The corrupting emerald fires of fel magic slowly creep through the entrance of these once hallowed halls, but remnants of the Sisterhood's formery glory still endure further into the Cathedral.

Hall of the Moon:

When traversing the dungeon, there are rooms to the side of the main path that may be opened and fully explored. These circular spaces contain what could be old moonwells, outlined with pillows and embraced by floating flowers overhead. These were likely places of meditation or communion with Elune, but I could also imagine these pools being used for healing, cleansing, scrying, stargazing, etc.

Perhaps a coincidence, but when inspected closer, these flowers have eight main petals; similar to how there are eight notable phases of the moon. (I wonder if eight is considered a lucky or holy number in Kaldorei society?)

Windows of stained glass adorn the walls and the ceilings here, filigree and diamond-shaped motifs (like the Tears of Elune) being repeated in the lower levels of the temple as well. Despite this being an indoor place of worship, it's clear that keeping moonlight visible/sensed was important in the Cathedral. In some rooms, it appears that the moonlight from outside shines directly into the pools, perhaps imbuing them with lunar blessings. This could have also just been a way for priests of Elune to feel closer to Her even when inside.

Countless scrolls and bookshelves can be found in all rooms, many of them housing a plethora of desks. Eerily, some still have an open scroll or book laying atop their surface with bookmarks in place, untouched by the sands of time.

I'm curious as to what texts are hidden here, but I suppose there's a few obvious things that come to mind. They could be prayers the Sisters were trying to commit to memory, songs of the Elunarian faith, stories/legends about the Well of Eternity, sacred texts of the Goddess, students' notes/textbooks, and more; as this could have also been a place of learning for newer inductions into the Sisterhood as well.

Perhaps the writings in this repository could make for interesting RP adventures in retrieving old texts, relics, lore about ancient Kalimdor, or attempts at discerning old Elunarian spellwork, prayers, stories, etc!

The small tabletop game on the right also caught my eye. Pieces of arcane crystal float above the board, maybe an old version of Kaldorei/Highborne chess.

Another detail in some of these areas are the looms resting to the side of the moon-pools: this could have been a place where mooncloth or holy vestments were created or blessed, as evidenced by one of the sub-zones here being called "Sacristy of Elune." A sacristy is a place where "a priest prepares for a service, and where vestments and other things of worship are kept."

Chapel of Tranquil Song:

An easily missed side-room leading up the first set of stairs is the Chapel of Tranquil Song. It is a small church with two sets of pews, and a fallen crescent-harp. This room further reinforces the idea that music and song have been a prominent aspect of Elune worship, and I think this could be an interesting take on healing in RP as well. Calming singing and instruments like the harp could possibly help heal wounds alongside the lunar magic of the Goddess, akin to an Elunarian bard.

The Twilight Grove:

The next level of the Cathedral is called "Twilight Grove," a large platform housing ethereal flowers that glow like stars with a font of moonlight (almost like a silver lake) pouring in through the ceiling. Agronox's dungeon journal entry describes these as the "Hanging Gardens," which he once tended to before his fall to corruption. I find it interesting that these plants seem to flourish hanging upside down, rather than growing on the ground level. Some petals and leaves also seem to be translucent, reminiscent of a spirit or the like.

I am unsure what these herbs are exactly, but perhaps they are specifically nourished by moonlight. Maybe priests of Elune utilize celestial herbs of some kind that bolster the magic granted by the Goddess, grant visions/spiritual boons, or emanate a calming aura in places of worship. It could also be that mundane herbs may be grown near a moonwell or a font like this one, and with time are imbued by Elune's blessings.

Chapel of the Sentinels:

This chapel is yet another Legion reference to a group called the Sentinels existing before the War of the Ancients. The others mentioned are in Tel'anor (resting place of WotA heroes) upon the plaques of the Windstrikers and Latara Feathersong.

Windstrikers: "Marksmen without peer, their skill with a bow was an inspiration to generations of archers. Their family developed the gauntlets the Sentinels wear, carefully articulated mail links that empower our archers to this day."

Latara: "Here lies Latara Feathersong. A huntress of the Sentinels, she led the vanguard in many campaigns. Her bravery and compassion were endless."

Maybe this order existed before the Sundering, with special places reserved for them like this chapel, and was simply revived in name by Tyrande Whisperwind a few centuries later.

The Emerald Archives:

A grand library containing innumerable books of all categories, it seems that these archives contained Highborne enchantments as well. Before the Sundering, there may have been an emphasis on Priestesses being educated/learned in many different areas of study, including knowledge of the arcane. These are the books we see from Thrashbite's dungeon journal entry:

Satirical Animated Book: an animated tome overflowing with stifingly satirical writing. As the tomes open, all sound is magically absorbed into the ancient pages, silencing all players for 5 seconds.

Fictional Animated Book: An ancient work of fiction springs to life, the magical runes leaping from the page to fetter would-be readers. Slows all players.

Biographical Animated Book: Account of a long-forgotten sorcerer's life can prove to be dangerously beguiling. Entrancing narrative charms a random player, but breaks if their health goes below 30%.

All of these fire arcane bolts at the party. Books as weapons in mage RP is something I'd never thought about, but makes so much sense!

There is an achievement for this boss fight called "Steamy Romance Saga," implying that even erotica could have also been kept in the library.

A mural to the left of the Emerald Archives depicts a Kaldorei woman bearing a shield (likely the Aegis of Aggramar that was kept here prior to the Sundering) and a spherical protection spell against green flames from what appears to be a dragon.

The way leading to the next area is called "Path of Illumination."

Chapel of Tears:

Another side-room on the way up the winding staircase is named the Chapel of Tears. This could have been a place of safekeeping for the Pillar of Creation: Tears of Elune, or a chapel of mourning. Somehow, a fel-infused Fal'dorei (nightborne spider) has made a nest here.

Other references to Elune's tears:

Tearstone of Elune

The Sisters' Tear

Mu'sha's Tears

Tears of the Goddess

Elune's Tear

Tears of the Moon

In any case, references to tears of Elune crop up all over Azeroth, most of which possess some kind of restorative/cleansing/life-giving powers. I believe that while the tears could certainly represent sadness of the Goddess, they could also represent tears of happiness, as the Pillar of Creation is described to "embody the dream of what Azeroth could be," and maybe the strong healing magic imparted by them is rooted in hope. I feel that Elune's connection to water could also be another avenue for RP, perhaps harnessing rejuvenating aquatic magic alongside the lunar blessings of Elune.

Sacristy of Elune:

The pinnacle of the Cathedral is known as the Sacristy of Elune, with areas of now-empty shelves and pillaged chests. The stained glass has been turned a fel-green, broken open and shattered onto the floor. The name suggests that this was once a place where sacred items were kept, such as vestments, furnishings, sacred vessels, and Elunarian records.

Given the ancient origin of the Cathedral, this could have been a prominent place that mooncloth was created: "Tailors tell that the first recipe for mooncloth was scribed by Elune herself." It is unknown if a tailor must use felcloth and purify it in a moonwell to eventually create mooncloth, or if any cloth can be used with the proper rituals/spells/blessings.

Hope you found this interesting, thanks for reading!

"Andu’lun-adala-ande’nar." (May the moon light your way.)

[scotianostra]

25th of April each year marks ANZAC Day.

Anzac Day is always marked on 25 April because it is the anniversary of the Gallipoli landings during the First World War.

On 25th April 1915, Anzacs joined the Allied Forces and entered the First World War, launching an expedition to the Gallipoli peninsula. Among the battalions of the British 29th Division that took heavy casualties were 1st King's Own Scottish Borderers, a regular battalion, and 1/5th Royal Scots, a Territorial unit

The plan was to capture the land and gain access to the Dardanelles, a thin strip of water between Gallipoli and mainland Turkey.

It was a key location, as capturing it would have meant Allied ships would be able to get through to the Black Sea, and also Constantinople (now Istanbul, Turkey), the then capital of the Ottoman Empire, which was fighting alongside the Germans.

But while the attack was supposed to be a surprise and victory achieved quickly, the fighting continued for eight months and finished in a stalemate, with huge losses on both sides. Of the 56,000 Allied troops who died, 8,709 were from Australia, and 2,721 from New Zealand.

Australia marks Anzac Day with marches by veterans, as well as serving members of the Australian Defence Force and Reserves, allied veterans, Australian Defence Force Cadets and Australian Air League.

New Zealand marks the day in a similar way, with marches attended by the New Zealand Defence Force, the New Zealand Cadet Forces, members of the New Zealand Police, New Zealand Fire Service and Order of St John Ambulance Service.

Paper poppies are worn as symbols of remembrance, as they are on Remembrance Sunday in the UK and other Commonwealth countries.

Australians gathered for dawn services on Monday morning, the return to full-scale commemorations for the first time since 2019 due to the covid pandemic.

Eric Bogle is a Scottish folk singer-songwriter. Born and raised in Scotland, he emigrated to Australia at the age of 25, he wrote this song in 1971....

AND THE BAND PLAYED WALTZING MATILDA

Now when I was a young man, I carried me pack And I lived the free life of the rover From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback Well, I waltzed my Matilda all over Then in 1915, my country said "son It's time you stopped rambling, there's work to be done" So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun And they marched me away to the war

And the band played Waltzing Matilda As the ship pulled away from the quay And amidst all the cheers, the flag-waving and tears We sailed off for Gallipoli

And how well I remember that terrible day How our blood stained the sand and the water And of how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter Johnny Turk, he was waiting, he'd primed himself well He showered us with bullets and he rained us with shell And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell Nearly blew us right back to Australia

But the band played Waltzing Matilda When we stopped to bury our slain We buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs Then we started all over again

And those that were left, well we tried to survive In that mad world of blood, death and fire And for ten weary weeks, I kept myself alive Though around me the corpses piled higher Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head And when I woke up in me hospital bed And saw what it had done, well I wished I was dead Never knew there was worse things than dyin'

For I'll go no more waltzing Matilda All around the green bush far and free To hump tent and pegs, a man needs both legs No more waltzing Matilda for me

So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed And they shipped us back home to Australia The legless, the armless, the blind, the insane Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay I looked at the place where me legs used to be And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me To grieve, to mourn, and to pity

But the band played Waltzing Matilda As they carried us down the gangway But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared Then they turned all their faces away

And so now every April, I sit on me porch And I watch the parades pass before me And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march Reviving old dreams of past glories And the old men march slowly, old bones stiff and sore They're tired old heroes from a forgotten war And the young people ask, "what are they marching for?" And I ask myself the same question

But the band plays Waltzing Matilda And the old men still answer the call But as year follows year, more old men disappear Someday no one will march there at all

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me? And their ghosts may be heard As they march by that billabong Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?

[aimeedaisies]

Court Circular | 7th November 2023

St James's Palace

The Princess Royal, Gold Stick in Waiting, was present today at the State Opening of the Session of Parliament by The King.

Her Royal Highness this afternoon opened the Scottish Fire and Rescue Service Museum of Scottish Fire Heritage and the McDonald Road Community Fire and Ambulance Station, McDonald Road, Edinburgh, and was received by His Majesty's Lord-Lieutenant of the City of Edinburgh (Councillor Robert Aldridge, the Rt Hon the Lord Provost).

The Princess Royal, Patron, the Eric Liddell 100, this evening attended the inaugural Lecture and Reception on board Fingal, Alexandra Dock, Leith, Edinburgh.

[peggydreadful]

Better Things

The letter arrived in the morning.

It came, as letters do, in the mail, slipped between weekly ad circulars and flyers for next weekend’s voter registration drive. The plain white envelope bore no return address. It was marked with only two words, written in a dark, nearly illegible scrawl: Vox Populi. 

For a moment, Leda considered destroying the letter, setting the paper alight over the kitchen sink and watching the edges curl and blacken until it was nothing more than flakes of ash. After all, Ollie was out on his morning run; by the time he got back, there would be no evidence that his former guild—a band of the most eminent dragon slayers in the United States—had ever been asking after one Oliver Song. 

But Leda did not burn the letter, as much as she wanted to. Instead, she left it on the kitchen table, tucking one corner of the unopened envelope under the vase of wilting flowers that Ollie had bought for her two weeks ago.

Maybe he won’t notice, Leda thought to herself, knowing that he would, that he’d make a beeline straight for it as soon as he got home. Still, she couldn’t help but hope that he wouldn’t open the envelope for a few days (at least), that by the time he did, the dragon would have already been slain or the ritual already completed or the world already ended (or saved). 

Was it selfish of her, to want to keep Ollie to herself for a little while longer, if she could? Perhaps, but Leda had always been selfish; that was nothing new. 

There was a reason why people called Ollie a hero and Leda a bitch.

—

Sometimes, Ollie forgot that he was famous. 

It was easy to forget in a place like Evendale, Ohio. It helped, he supposed, that the dragons here were much smaller than the ones in New York, and less aggressive, too; the biggest ones—a pair that Hugh Donavan kept behind his sheep pastures—were hardly bigger than cows and lovingly docile, a far cry from the legendary, skyscraping beasts that occasionally darkened the skies of Manhattan. 

In Evendale, Ollie could be a boyfriend first and an EMT second and a dragon slayer third. It was why he’d left the Vox Populi in the first place and moved out here: to be more than just the hero from Queens who had killed the Wyvern of Wall Street with a broken stop sign, to leave the blood and fire and glory behind and just be some guy. 

Unfortunately, Ollie’s forgetfulness rarely lasted for very long; the world, it seemed, derived a sick pleasure from reminding him that he was not, in fact, just some guy. 

When he’d first moved to Evendale, the paparazzi were everywhere. He hadn’t considered that they might follow him from Manhattan to Ohio, but there they were, camping out on the sidewalk by his apartment building or the community gym or the local Waffle House with their cameras pointed at the main entrance, hoping for a candid shot of the newly-retired hero. It made him feel like an ass, slipping in and out of places via service entrances like he was some sort of rock star, but pushing through the mob of journalists and photographers, surrounded on all sides by flashing lights and rapid-fire questions, terrified him more than any sea serpent he’d ever dredged out of the East River. 

Those first few months had been hard. He’d done his best to be polite and understanding, but the gossip columnists never seemed satisfied with the answers he offered, never content to accept that he really had left the Vox Populi because he didn’t want to slay dragons anymore and not because of some secret scandal or covert reconnaissance mission. 

“Someone like you doesn’t just leave a penthouse in Manhattan to slum it in Ohio,” a reporter from OK!—or was it Star? Or maybe TMZ—had said to him once. “It just doesn’t happen.”

“Sorry,” he’d said in response, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. He'd really wanted to ask, “Why not?” Was it so strange to think that Ollie liked helping people but preferred to do so without constantly fighting for his life while clamped between the jaws of a fire-breathing beast the size of the Guggenheim Museum? (Judging by the number of prying questions he received about it—apparently.) 

In those moments, Ollie wished someone had told him, before he’d become a member of the Vox Populi and slain not one, not two, but three greater dragons in the name of the city. He wished he had known how utterly alone he’d feel, buoyed aloft by the praise and adoration of strangers. To have millions of people watching his every move without seeing what he’d done and listening to his every word without hearing what he’d meant—it was like screaming and screaming and screaming into the dark tunnels of the subway system, hoping that the emptiness lodged in his chest would spill past his lips and seep into the grimy tile and screeching tracks of the Elmhurst Avenue stop. 

(It never did; instead, that loneliness would wedge itself under Ollie’s tongue and stick to the roof of his mouth, leaving a bitter aftertaste like the dandelion tea his grandmother used to brew for him when he was twelve.) 

Would any of the Vox Populi have joined, if they’d known how lonely it would be beforehand? Ollie wasn’t sure.

He, at least, had Leda. 

—

Bitch wasn’t the worst name Leda had ever been called. 

Frankly, she’d endured a lot of defamation throughout the years, the most vitriolic of which had surfaced in the first few months after news of her relationship with Ollie had been leaked to the press, when they’d both still been living in New York. 

On an intuitive level, Leda understood where the name-calling was coming from. If anything, jealousy-fueled insults aimed at the integrity of her character were to be expected of the thousands of people who, for some reason, thought themselves deserving of the affections of a Vox Populi. Still, the amount of hate mail in Leda’s Twitter mentions was almost comical—she had a folder saved on her phone that was filled with screenshots of the most outrageous conspiracy theories about her. (Her current favorite was one that claimed she was a former CIA operative who was currently using LSD-based mind control on Ollie in order to dismantle the Vox Populi and install a system of dragon overlords. Truly, people gave her way too much credit.) 

These days, the Internet trolling came more slowly, cresting and falling in lethargic waves. The most recent incident had been sparked by a video from nearly five months ago, when Leda and Ollie had first moved to Evendale. In it, dozens of cameras and microphones are being shoved into Ollie’s face as the couple emerges, hand in hand, from their apartment building. 

“—rumors that you’ve been in and out of Evendale General for a number of weeks now. What can you tell us about that?” a reporter asks, barely in frame as the video starts.

Ollie opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, his eyes darting anxiously from camera to camera. “Well, I’ve been—”

“Have you sustained a career-threatening injury, or are you in rehab for addiction?” another reporter interrupts, his voice harried as he shouts into his microphone. 

Ollie’s brow furrows, and he licks his lips before speaking, thoughtlessly seductive. “No, I’m fine—”

Leda didn’t remember much of this confrontation, hadn’t given it much thought before it had gone viral, but she did remember this: Ollie’s hand tightening on hers, his pulse fluttering frantically underneath her fingers as he struggled to fend off rumors. She’d spoken up, then, cutting in as another reporter tried to interject with their own wildly invasive question. 

“That’s enough.” 

In the video, Leda’s face is twisted into a snarl, her upper lip curled in disdain. She doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t need to as she pushes past the paparazzi with more force than is strictly necessary, dragging Ollie along behind her, but a threat hangs in the air around her nevertheless, reflected in the dark storm clouds crackling in her eyes. 

That video had earned Leda a number of colorful nicknames, none of them particularly forgiving. Luckily, it had also resulted in fewer paparazzi stakeouts in Evendale as a whole, which was a relief because the number of shirtless candids they had been taking of Ollie during his morning runs had really started to grate on Leda’s nerves. 

They’re not entirely wrong, she mused, watching the clip cycle through her Instagram feed for the eighth time. I really do look like a bitch.

—

Ollie got asked about Leda a lot.

In all honesty, he liked answering questions about Leda, enjoyed telling people about how they met and what she was like and yes, they are in a long-term relationship and no, they’re not really interested in threesomes right now, thank you though, that’s very kind. It was a refreshing change of pace from the questions he used to get about the best way to kill a dragon and how many dragons he thought lived in the New York subway system and what it felt like to be burned by dragonfire (decapitation, none anymore, very bad). 

It was easier, too, to gush about his girlfriend in an interview with The New Yorker than it was to stave off questions about when he was planning to rejoin the Vox Populi or why he’d chosen Evendale of all places to retire.

Mostly, though, Ollie liked to talk about Leda because he knew that his fans—it was weird that he had fans, but that was what they were, really—were not always kind to her. 

He did his best to defend her on social media, combing through Instagram and Twitter with pleas to leave his girlfriend alone, to stop doxxing her and calling her awful names. But for every cruel comment he took down, ten more would spawn in its place. 

“It’s fine,” Leda would say, gently extricating Ollie’s phone from his vise-like grip. “They’re just Internet trolls. Forget them.”

“You shouldn’t have to put up with these horrible things because of me.”

At that, Leda would cradle a warm hand against his cheek. “I have everything covered. I promise.” She’d pause, then, and add, almost to herself, “No LSD needed.” 

Ollie never quite understood what that last part meant, but he liked how Leda looked when she said it, liked watching that sly smile unfurl from the rightmost corner of her lips even though the joke flew right over his head. He’d try to draw it out, sometimes, by assuring her that he kept his body in prime condition and had no intention of throwing off its chemical balance with highly addictive hallucinogens, thank you very much. If he got it right, she’d laugh, and it was like watching a stormy sky break for a single, unfiltered ray of sunlight, like getting drunk for the first time and feeling absolutely, utterly unbreakable. 

He frowned back down at his phone, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet so that his legs wouldn’t start to cramp. The text from Reggie was still open, the last in a long chain of pleas and justifications: The position is there for you, if you want it.

Ollie considered for a moment, running a hand through his sweat-slicked hair before typing out his response.

—

Ollie deserves better.

It was a thought that gnawed at Leda’s mind constantly, chewing noisily through the edges of her sanity like the silkworms that her grandfather used to keep in their living room when Leda was seven, loud in the way that the crunch crunch crunch of insect mandibles on mulberry leaves would fill her seven-year-old ears as she tossed and turned in bed. 

It was hard, not to think it—especially now, as Leda balanced two pairs of chopsticks across the peel-off lids of the cup noodles on the counter, letting them sit as she rinsed out the kettle and dumped it unceremoniously into the top rack of the dishwasher to dry. Ollie was a good man—the best man, the kind who wept openly at baby animal videos and worked extra shifts so that the other EMTs could take the night off, the kind who asked himself what he could do to make the world a better place and then did it. He deserved more than a dinky one-bedroom apartment with an empty refrigerator and a bathroom door that jammed, sometimes, and a girlfriend who loved him, not for his heroism, but in spite of it. 

Leda sighed, sliding heavily down the kitchen cabinets to sit on the floor, her legs splayed haphazardly across the tile. She leaned her head against the cool wood behind her, listening to the steady sound of running water as Ollie showered. 

It was funny, in a distinctly unfunny way, how often she thought about breaking up with him—not because she wanted to, but because it felt like everyone else was waiting for her to do it. Even her sister had admitted, once, that she hadn’t expected them to last nearly as long as they already had. 

“Not that I think you can’t make it work, if that’s what you want,” Lily had said, peering owlishly over the rim of her latte. “It’s just—he asks a lot from you, you know?” 

Leda set her own mug of coffee down with enough force that she half-expected it to shatter. “Ollie isn’t a job, Lily.” 

“So then why is he asking you to give up yours?”

Leda scoffed. “It’s not like my job was all that great to begin with. Besides, the new firm in Ohio’s nice.”

“It’s tiny, Leda. And you’ll be making a fraction of what you’re making now. You can’t seriously be giving up New York for that?”

“So what if I am? People leave New York and downgrade all the time—you did.”

“Yeah, once I had kids. You’re still young, Leda; it would be insane to leave the city right when you’re about to make junior partner,” Lily said. “Why would you risk your entire future on Ollie when there are plenty more just like him?”

Leda hadn’t known how to respond to that. How could she possibly explain what Ollie was to her, how every time he looked at her he would smile like he was seeing an unpolluted night sky for the first time, how she’d wake up every morning to see him drooling into the pillow beside her and feel so afraid of the brittleness in her heart? No words in any language were sufficient enough to describe what it was like when they watched movies together and Ollie would ask her to explain the plot, how he’d listen to her talk like her words were more important than anything happening on the screen. 

Ollie had offered to stay when she’d first learned of her promotion, had offered to keep rising through the ranks of the Vox Populi even though his hands shook every time he picked up a sword and his inbox was filled with unsent emails to the Department of Homeland Security requesting tanks instead of spears and fighter jets instead of crossbows. But secretly, Leda had been relieved to leave the city behind. A part of her had always chafed against having to share Ollie with the world, against being the second priority of a man who felt the need to carry the fate of the world in his hands and his hands only. 

In Evendale, Leda didn’t have to share. Without the Vox Populi to shove Ollie into the national spotlight, he was hers, and hers alone. (Leda was selfish like that.) What, then, could she say to make her sister understand that she had better things, now, than money and status and prestige?

“Because he’s Ollie,” she’d said finally, when the silence between them had stretched too thin. “Because he’s mine.”

—

Guilt was something Ollie was all too familiar with. 

He’d been carrying it with him for years, draped over his shoulders like a heavy cape. There was the creeping, bone-cold guilt of barely managing to graduate high school, pinned to his chest by the silent disapproval of his father, who’d simply left the room when Ollie had announced that he was accepting a place among the Vox Populi instead of applying to community college; the tremulous, searing guilt of slaying a dragon in the Bronx and finding a nest of still-warm eggs that he’d had to deliver, now orphaned, to the zoo; the sour, churning guilt of turning in his two weeks’ notice to the Vox Populi and leaving the people of New York to fend for themselves; the prickling, insistent guilt of watching Leda call the law firm she’d dedicated years of her life to, clawing her way up the corporate ladder, only to resign. 

And now, he felt the sticky guilt of his reply to Reggie’s texts settling over his skin, replacing the sweat he’d just washed away in the shower. Was he letting down the wrong people by making this decision? Should he have discussed it with Leda before making a choice? Would it have been fair of him to ask her at all? 

Ollie yanked, hard, on the bathroom door (it got stuck, sometimes) and blinked, surprised to find Leda sitting on the kitchen floor. She looked up from her phone, giving him an obvious once-over as he stepped out of the bathroom in a pair of old sweatpants, his shirt still bundled in his fist. He flexed a little to make her laugh. 

“I made ramen,” she offered, pointing above her head to the cup noodles on the counter and carefully not looking at the kitchen table, where he’d left the letter from the Vox Populi. It had been a short note, reiterating what Reggie had already conveyed to him over text: he had been invited to head up the New York branch of the guild—a high honor, especially for someone who had already retired. 

Ollie pulled his shirt over his head and drifted over to the kitchen counter, peeling off the paper lids and stirring both cups of noodles with his chopsticks before handing one to Leda and sliding to the floor with a grunt. He sat with his leg pressed against hers, reveling quietly in the comfort of her body next to his as she leaned into his warmth. 

 “Ramen for breakfast is an interesting choice,” he said. 

Leda sighed, resting her head onto Ollie’s shoulder as she peered mournfully into her own Styrofoam cup. “The fridge is empty. I had to improvise.”

Ollie laughed. “We could have made congee, at least.”

Leda didn’t say anything, didn’t throw back a witty barb like he’d expected. Ollie wondered, suddenly, if she had read the Vox Populi letter while he was in the shower, if that was what she was thinking about, if she was waiting for him to offer an explanation. Before he could, though, she spoke again. 

“Let’s go grocery shopping,” she said with feigned lightness, failing to hide the strain in her voice. 

Ollie frowned and brushed a finger under Leda’s chin, gently turning her head so that he could look at her. 

The expression on Leda’s face was one he recognized, one he’d worn countless times on his own face whenever an unknown number with a Manhattan area code would flicker onto Leda’s phone. It was a small look, big enough only for one word: stay.

Ollie reached for Leda’s hand, lacing their fingers together to squeeze tightly. He hoped that in the lines of his palm and the brush of his thumb against the back of her hand, she could read what he meant when he replied. 

“Okay.”

(Later, when Ollie went to throw their empty ramen cups away, he plucked the letter from the kitchen table and slipped that into the trash, too.)

[paskariu]

Toyota Yaris Ranking

Because I am definitely not having a Moment about the Yaris I have decided to create a personal ranking from best to worst yaris model. This is just my personal opinion based on my own biases.

For the sake of simplicity, I won't rate the facelifts separately and instead only rank the entire model generation.

1 Yaris P1 1999-2006

The OG. The cuddle bug that graced the world and said "I WILL get you from A to B no matter what you do to me". Change its oil and it's happy.

2 GR Yaris 2020-

The cool little brother. The GR set out to fulfil the question we all wanted to be answered, "What if Yaris but fast as fuck".

Makes the old TR and RS variants sweat, and even people who previously scuffed at the Yaris do a double take.

Kind of looks like it has this dentist push-your-lips-away device on. Angry hamster.

3 Yaris XP9 2005-2011

As a reviewer put it, the second gen is an example of "sophisticated blandness". It's a car. It drives you places. The interior features are good enough for people who just want to have a car.

It takes all of this with a friendly face. Its circular body refined with a few chosen body lines to break up the shape make for a car that got a participation trophy at a sports event.

It's just happy to be included.

Fun fact: I have that model

4 Yaris XP21 2020-

Final evolution (for the time being). Lost some of the no-thoughts-head-empty charm of the older Yari. Manta ray inspired front is somewhat unique in today's angry faced car world. Wants to look like the GR, but not that much.

5 Yaris Verso/FunCargo XP10 1999-2005

What SUVs could have been. Toyota themselves called this an MPV- Multi-Purpose-Vehicle. This micro-van can bring your kid to school and then work on a construction site on the same day.

Get yourself a Yaris that can do it all. Looks like a stretched P1. What it basically is.

6 Yaris Sedan/Vios/Belta XP90 2007-2013

Looks neat. A hatchback-limousine based on the original Yaris, and spiritual successor of the Toyota Echo.

Same charm as the XP9. Looks just happy to be of service. That's a lot of names for one car though. Like the Echo, it's not available in Europe :(

Other generations of the Yaris Belta drop the Yaris part, being sold as "just" Toyota Vios/Belta which is why they're not on this list.

7 Yaris XP13 2010-2020

The awkward middle evolution. The XP21 also has a wild design, but this is just... no. I don't like this. All I see is Steve Harvey's block of a moustache but car.

At least the back looks neat.

-100 Yaris Cross

Why the fuck make a small car an SUV. Kill it with fire. Throw it in a ditch. IDK just make it leave. This is an insult to the original Yaris. I want to buy a ticket to Japan and murder whoever is responsible for this piece of shit.

The Yaris Verso was right there. Why not modernise that and release it. Don't tell me the reason I know why they did this I don't like it though.

Honourable Mention: Daihatsu Charade 2011-2013

Hail Mary by Toyota's struggling daughter in the European market. They called this Charade because it's literally just the XP9F pretending that it's not.

[loopy777]

What was the yangchen scene that infuriated you so much?

I'm glad you asked!

(I say as if I didn't leave that last one as bait.)

But I'm warning you, the explanation is going to be underwhelming for my level of rage. I'm just so sick of this kind of thing. Spoilers below the cut for both Dawn and Legacy.

In Dawn, the weapon Yangchen had been chasing the whole book turns out to be a trio of Combustion Benders working for the villain. This is treated as something completely unheard of, and no one is even capable of speculating how it might be possible.

In Legacy, Yangchen follows up on this and eventually tracks down the training site for the Combustion Benders. It turns out that the villain hadn't just been trying to churn out Combusters, she was training and researching several different possibilities. Yangchen doens't learn the full extent of what was going on there, but she does encounter the following:

The Combustion Benders

A girl whose bare-handed blows can incapacitate limbs and disable Bending

A chamber with a shackling chair and the remains of a circular metal track that would allow something to travel around the chair; elsewhere in the book, the villain speaks a code phrase and brings a reluctant subordinate completely under her control, compelled to follow her every command

Just- would it have been too much to have one slushing thing that wasn't taken from Aang's adventures? I'm almost surprised there weren't a pair of hook swords at the site or something about lightning-bending or lightning-redirection! By the time Avatar fiction is finished and the franchise is finally dead, do you think there will be one single thing in all of AtLA that won't have its history revealed in a story about a previous Avatar? Just like how everything Korra experiences needs to be explained in a story about the maturing gAang, everything in AtLA needs to be tossed out as chum for fans who can't be trusted to just enjoy a good story.

Combustion Bending can't have just been something that happened over there, it had to be part of Avatar History (TM). Chi-blocking can't just be a rare skill, it had to have been developed by a think tank run by an Avatar's arch nemesis. And Koh forbid Long Feng or the Dai Li actually invented some aspect of their brainwashing themselves- no, it turns out they lifted everything, right down to using a light on a circular track, from a textbook that was written four to five hundred years before they were born.

It's just so, so tiring. It's one thing when the garbage has to toss out this kind of fan-service in order to distract from its terrible character writing, but why does even the good stuff like the Yangchen novels have to devolve into this lack of creativity? It adds nothing to the story and took me straight out of what should have been a harrowing scene.

But Loopy, you say, what harm does it do? Lots of people like to have their fans serviced in this way, so maybe this is just a You thing, and it doesn't necessarily hurt the stories it's in just because Gene Yang was terrible at it.

Well, 'you,' I'd say that it actually does do harm, even in the hands of a good storyteller like F.C. Yee. See, one of best parts of this franchise is the sense of history it evokes. In most fantasy, thousands of years can whizz by with no change in culture, geography, language, technology, or education. But in Avatar, things change. The Fire Nation wins wars by developing new weapons. The Water Tribes go up and down in health and power depending the conditions of the world. A whole new nation is developed as a result of colonization, which itself spurs rapid development of technology. When we jump back to the beginning of time, the very world itself is made to look like a moving historical painting. And, as we increasingly explore the franchise, we find that each Avatar comes of age mostly by dealing with the problems left behind by their predecessors.

And every time something from AtLA or LoK is shoved into contrived circumstances in another era so we can have a pointless fan service moment, we chip away at that unique aspect of this franchise. We make each era more like all the others, so that no matter what Avatar you're dealing with or what era of history you're in, there will always be a Chi Blocker (TM). It takes something we all fell in love with due to its uniqueness and turns it into a formula. Instead of a scene that works by itself, we have a round of Spot The Reference.

And it happens in so much fiction these days. People used to make disparaging jokes about how every character in Star Wars, even the stupid nameless walk-on roles, has their own book. But at least it was their own book, and not the story of how it turns out Anakin Skywalker was best friends with this random alien decades before they randomly walked across his son Luke's path. We measure a storyteller's suitability to contribute to a franchise based on how much of a fan they are, not because being a fan might lend them insight into what made that franchise great in the first place, but because they can pack their stories full of continuity so that it turns out the entire history of an entire world turns on 20 people spread across a single family tree by the time subsequent generations are done marrying each other.

I'm just so sick of it. And being ambushed by it in 'Legacy of Yangchen' just made me groan, especially since I was enjoying the story so much.

Please, let's have a little self-respect as fans, okay?

...

I warned you this was going to be underwhelming.

[ausetkmt]

Hurricane Michael unearths hidden history at ‘Negro Fort’ where 270 escaped slaves died – ASALH – The Founders of Black History Month

https://asalh.org/hurricane-michael-unearths-hidden-history-at-negro-fort-where-270-escaped-slaves-died/

PROSPECT BLUFF — Two hundred years ago, a post overlooking the Apalachicola River housed what historians say was the largest community of freed slaves in North America at the time.

Hurricane Michael has given archaeologists an unprecedented opportunity to study its story, a significant tale of black resistance that ended in bloodshed.

The site, also known as Fort Gadsden, is about 70 miles southwest of Tallahassee in the Apalachicola National Forest near the hamlet of Sumatra.

British lived at Prospect Bluff with allied escaped slaves, called Maroons, who joined the British military in exchange for freedom, along with Seminole, Creek, Miccosukee and Choctaw tribe members.

The Negro Fort, which was built on the site by the British during the War of 1812, became a haven for escaped slaves. Inside, 300 barrels of gunpowder were stored, and defended by both women and men.

More:The Negro Fort: a haven for escaped slaves that fell to deadliest cannon shot in U.S. history

Wary of the group of armed former slaves in Spanish Florida living so close to the United States border, U.S. soldiers began to attack. On July 27, 1816, U.S. forces led by Colonel Duncan Clinch ventured down the river and fired a single shot at the fort’s magazine. It exploded, killing 270 escaped slaves and tribes people who were inside. Those who survived were forced back into slavery.

Managed by the U.S. Forest Service, which purchased it in the 1940s, the site has been preserved as a National Historic Landmark and park. Because of that, it was never excavated for artifacts, except in 1963 by Florida State University, mainly to identify structural remains.

“It’s a really intriguing story. There’s so much new ground there that historians of the past never really got into,” said Dale Cox, a Jackson County-based historian.

In an ironic way, Hurricane Michael has changed that — an isolated upsideof the devastating storm.

The October Category 5 hurricane caused extensive damage to the site, toppling about 100 trees. Most of the debris has been cleared, but under the remaining massive roots, archaeologists began this month to dig and sift through the soil, uncovering small artifacts and documenting archaeological features revealed by the upturned trees.

The effort is funded by a $15,000 grant awarded from the National Park Service and is in partnership with the Southeast Archaeological Center.

"The easy, low-hanging fruit is European trade ware that dates to that time period. But when you have ceramics that were made by the locals, it's even more unique and special," said U.S. Forest Service Archaeologist Rhonda Kimbrough. "For one thing, there's not much of it, and we don't have a whole lot of historical records other than the European view from what life in these Maroon communities was like."

So far, Kimbrough and others have found bits of Seminole ceramics, shards of British black glass and gun flint and pipe smoking fragments. They’ve also located the area of a field oven, a large circular ditch that surrounds a fire pit.

The fort was recently inducted into the National Park Service’s Underground Railroad Network to Freedom.

"It’s like connecting the sites, pearls on a string," said Kimbrough, "because these sites, even though they’re spread all over the place, they’re connected by one thing, which is resistance to slavery."

It's been a slow process of sifting through Census records, which are private for 72 years before release, international archives of Great Britain as well as Spanish archives in Cuba. But Cox is on a quest to name as many as possible.

The people who lived in the Maroon community were very skilled, he said. Many were masons, woodworkers, farmers. They tended the surrounding melon and squash fields, but little is known precisely about their day-to-day lives.

The area has always been ideal for settling, given its higher elevation and clearings amid the river's mostly swampy perimeter, said Andrea Repp, a U.S. Forest Service archaeologist. Prior to European occupation, the site was sacred to natives and was named Achackweithle, which resembles the words for "standing view" in Creek, according to the Florida Geological Survey.

Shack, 76, is a descendant of Maroons. His great great grandfather escaped a North Carolina plantation, married a part-Native American woman and settled in Marianna. He remembers his grandmother's stories about the Prospect Bluff community. 

"I remember her telling us about the 'Colored Fort' and all the colored folk who died," he said. "A lot of black history wasn't taught. A lot of our history is lost, and some of it we won't get back. I'm glad that there's a renewed interest in capturing the history that I thought was lost."

[charlotteswebbbbb]

What's the vibe? #51

News:

Pitchfork is to be folded into GQ as it's music vertical :( Conde Nast fired all the main staff. People are looking to streaming services to save them now for recommendations but they're algorithmic or circular - major label artists and bigger independent artists favoured. Or TikTok but bands don't really thrive on there - they thrive more on traditional methods like music press......

The Kitchen has been released on Netflix.

Okk, Fashion Week Re-cap :)

Martine Rose AW23

Rick Owens FW23- loved the apartment

Comme Des Garçons HOMME PLUS FW24 - love the hair and make up - “SPIRITUAL WORLD. White is symbolic of prayer."

Wales Bonner AW24 - love the ambiance and shoes

Loewe - set design - American artist Richard Hawkins (b.1961, Mexia, Texas), whose practice is rooted in collage and the provocation of juxtaposition, used 1960s LOEWE window designs by José Pérez de Rozas—the mastermind of the house's iconic store visuals for over 30 years—as a starting point for the 12 video works.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by LOEWE (@loewe)

Schiap SS24 - love the tech baby

Notes for shows I didn't 100% like: LV's show was inspired by American Western aesthetics and P's home state of Virginia. Fendi's collection was inspired by Princess Anne and her uniform (anti fashion - very funny phrase coming back into the loop - almost...anti creativity and anti freedom)

Reading List:

[megarywrites]

find the word

tagged by @thewriteflame and I'll tag......... @pinespittinink @daisywords @zmwrites @coarsely @at-thezenith and your words will be stagger, stoic, straight, and strong.

my words were rush, rule, rage, and reflect and I'll be pulling them from what I have rewritten so far of Parts I and II of the second draft of Seafoam.

rush - from Part II: Split, Chapter 12, "Ugly Truths"

The moons’ light sliced through the shadows, cool and as calming as the sound of the rush of the incoming sea. Squinting, I stepped into the patch of light streaming in from the first of the windows lining the wall, and headed down, taking care to try to steady my breathing with each passing step.  Had he—the Diamo…and the captain, I suppose—genuinely expected me to just…let him touch me? Without warning? Or provocation? Or, had I perhaps done something that made him think…No, nothing. I had done nothing.  Why had he thought that that was an acceptable thing to do to someone?  Had he no daughter nor wife?

rule - from Part II: Split, Chapter 10, "The Haven of the Gods"

Stretching far above, a dizzying dapple of colored light from the sun shining through the stained glass towers and turrets. The shimmering dust caught in the sunlight streaming through the vast expanse of glass was iridescent as it filtered gently down. Candle-lit chandeliers lined the beams criss-crossing over the benches filing the atrium.  All around, more candles flickered in the many indents carved in the marble walls and the bowls of water beneath them caught their glittering light and projected them in ribbons inside the indents. Elaborately carved panels of the same red wood as the doors and the beams filled the spaces between the depressions, showing an even more extensive history of how our religion Isotrei came to rule our land, compared to the simple, thin beams at the latridom back home. Even from here, I could pick out the depiction of Isolios, Tiegira, and Vaceli’s benevolence as they helped our ancestors with their crops back when the gods used to walk among us—before Nyari ruined everything with her wanton selfishness. Gold accented the carvings emanating from every iteration of Isolios himself, who seemed to be shown in every single display around the auditorium.  And, below, the floors framing the center aisle was made of the same marble as the walls and the steps outside, but the center aisle itself…the floor was made of glass as a window to look into the rushing Smara—the green, enchanted river of legend.

rage(d) - from Part I: Tremor, Chapter 6, "Sealed Fate"

The storm did keep us inside, just like I thought it would. It raged against our shutters for two days, and I braved the wind and rain to get some buckets from Ma’s potion shed to collect the rainwater that seeped into our home. We stayed wrapped up in our blankets and cushions, sitting as close as we could to the fire while Ma worked on her embroidery in the flickering firelight while I leaned against the hearth, using it as my counter as I made Ma’s flower crown.

reflect(ion) - from Part I: Tremor, Chapter 1, "Homecoming"

Glimpses into other lives—of the baker and his daughter preparing the next day’s wares, or arguments unfolding, of fathers entertaining their children while their wives were preparing supper—flashed before my eyes as I glanced through the windows of the passing homes. Then, further in, the darkened shop windows showed only my fleeting reflection.  A sweeping beam of light drew my gaze up to the tallest tower of Psari’s latridom, and I stopped in my tracks to watch it revolve over the land before it shone back out at the sea. The latridom was lit from within as well. For what, I wasn’t quite sure. Maybe the Stoli were preparing for tomorrow’s service, but… My attention drifted to the three circular stained glass windows adorning the face of the ancient house of worship with a bright kaleidoscope of colors against the gloom of the night.  They painted the surrounding mist and the wet cobblestones in gleaming reds, pinks, blues, yellows, greens, and purples. My skin and clothes, too, as soon as I stepped into its light.