#mineral warfare

[quixoticanarchy]

book about resource extraction in the drc published in 2011 trying to say "activists' focus on the congo as a source of conflict minerals is overblown bc they only supply 5% of world total" and "it's disingenuous to point at consumer electronics and say they're soaked in blood when they have a very small chance of containing minerals from the congo" well ok. consider: 1) in the intervening 13 years the amount of coltan supplied by the drc did not stay at 5% but in fact has risen dramatically (and also it is notoriously difficult to track how much the drc is actually exporting, and how much of, say, rwanda's reported production originates in the congo), and 2) how interesting. is the drc the only place in which rare earth minerals are extracted under inhumane conditions? perhaps ppl criticizing what goes into consumer electronics are not in fact meaning to suggest they would be just fine if they contained no minerals from the congo. perhaps it is ALSO bad when ppl in southeast asia or latin america or in fact, anywhere, are ruthlessly exploited so that you and i can have new cellphones and electric cars

[anastasiareyreed]

“ordinary russians are not guilty of anything and shouldn't be held responsible for the actions of their authorities”

meanwhile:

ordinary russians voluntarily join the russian army to kill Ukrainians and Syrians

ordinary russians organize safari hunting and killing Ukrainian civilians with drones

ordinary russians torture and execute Ukrainian and Syrian civilians and soldiers, filming it on camera

ordinary russians come to the destroyed occupied territories and arrange "fancy and mysterious" photoshoots like it's some kind of disneyland

ordinary russians go abroad to willingly glorify russia at pro-russian rallies

ordinary russians persecute and kill Ukrainians abroad

ordinary russians export stolen Ukrainian clothes, household appliances and cars to russia

ordinary russians buy all these stuff knowing perfectly well and seeing from the labels that these things were stolen from the houses and shops of murdered Ukrainians

ordinary russians donate to support the russian army

ordinary russians make shells and drones at factories in three shifts

ordinary russians sew equipment

ordinary russian activists weave camouflage nets, make trench candles and collect donations for the russian army

ordinary russian truck drivers bring all this to the frontlines

ordinary russians make software for missiles

ordinary russian tourists go on vacation to the russian-occupied Crimea

ordinary russians sell and buy apartments in occupied territories whose residents were killed

ordinary russians write happy comments after shelling Ukrainian homes markets hospitals and schools

ordinary russian doctors go to the frontlines to save russian soldiers

ordinary russians work in prisons and torture prisoners of war with starvation

ordinary russian teachers in the occupied territories reeducate Ukrainian children

ordinary russian social workers kidnap and take Ukrainian children to russia

ordinary russian miners extract coal for steel smelting

ordinary russian metallurgists work three shifts at blast furnaces to melt steel

ordinary russian celebrities shoot pro-russian films, write pro-russian songs and call to join the russian army

ordinary russians organize mass protests in russia against the closing of McDonald's, but not against the war

ordinary russian children draw pictures of russian soldiers brutally killing Ukrainians

ordinary russian artists in russia and abroad create pro-russian art glorifying russia and the russian army

ordinary russians create videogames that promote russian brutality and the army

ordinary russian teachers teach children to hate other nations

ordinary russian trainers prepare children for warfare and murder

ordinary russians ignore russian crimes on the territory of Ukraine and Syria as they ignored crimes on the territory of Georgia. because they believe it has nothing to do with them and it shouldn't affect their comfortable lifestyle.

should i go on?

Putin is not the cause of russian brutality, terrorism and bloodthirstiness. Putin is a consequence.

before Putin, there were other presidents, other tsars and other authorities in russia. only one thing has not changed — russian imperialism and chauvinism.

don't be silent and please continue to support Ukraine! don't let your politicians betray Ukraine, Ukraine needs help to defeat russia!

[room-surprise]

Modern Military Uniform of the United Empire (Dungeon Meshi modern AU)

AO3 Version here!

AEGIS

In my fic, “Show Me How to Get Off the Ground,” Mithrun was once a member of an elite military unit, the Advanced Expedition Group for Intelligence and Security, or AEGIS.

Most civilians refer to them as “the Canaries” instead, a pejorative nickname that has become so well-known that most people don’t realize that it isn’t the unit’s real name, or that it’s an insult. Even AEGIS members sometimes use it.

The nickname is a reference to the yellow bird on the AEGIS logo, which looks like a canary, the bird that coal miners famously use to detect gas leaks. The canary warns the miners of the presence of dangerous gasses by dying, implying that AEGIS members frequently die while doing their duty, and that the government treats them like they are disposable.

The bird featured in the AEGIS logo is actually a skylark, which is one of the many birds that are associated with the elven goddess of warfare and wisdom, Atana. Skylarks are the first birds to sing in the morning, and so they are believed to bring news quickly. Every morning, Atana’s skylark returns to her, and sings the latest news from the war front. The aegis was also a device carried by Atana, usually depicted as a shield or armor made of goat skin, and sometimes decorated with the head of a defeated enemy or monster.

(In the real world, the aegis was either a shield or armor made of goat skin, used by Athena or Zeus. It often had a gorgon's head on it.)

AEGIS operatives are commissioned officers from other branches of the United Empire’s military who have been scouted by AEGIS for their special skills. They are put through extremely advanced magical, military and espionage training, and are considered some of the most elite soldiers in the world. Because all AEGIS agents are selected from commissioned officers, the vast majority of them come from elven nobility.

AEGIS specializes in undercover spy work done behind enemy lines. Because of this, they don’t have a field uniform since they spend most of their time in disguise, dressed like ordinary people. They only wear their formal dress uniform while they are at their home base, doing training, administrative work, or preparing for their next undercover mission.

MISC LORE

ATANA (𐀀𐀲𐀙)

Atana is one of the most popular gods in the United Empire. She’s strongly associated with the capital city and the royal family. She’s usually depicted as a beautiful elven woman with obsidian skin, white hair, red eyes, multiple arms, and wearing nothing but an aegis. Each arm bears a different weapon or tool, and her face is always serene, even when she is smiting her enemies. She’s usually shown surrounded by many different types of bird, and in ancient art, she sometimes has a bird’s head.

She is the goddess of wisdom and warfare, and most people consider her the “primary” god of the elven pantheon, and other gods are usually treated as subordinate to her. Atana embodies elven virtues such as intelligence, cunning, charisma, skill with magic, and stoicism. 

(Atana is a fusion of the real-world goddesses Athena and Durga.)

THE GREAT WAR (1932-2000)

Sometimes called “the great war between the long and short-lived races,” this war began with the Far Eastern Alliance attacking the United Empire’s colonies in the Eastern Archipelago to reclaim what they saw as territory that belonged to them. After 68 years, the Great War ended in a stalemate, with both sides committing atrocities, and both conceding and gaining territory.

The Great War had a huge impact on the relationship between the long and short-lived races, and technology and magic developed during the war has shaped the modern world into what it is in the story.

[ask-the-prose]

Conducting a War

So, your story takes place during a war. Maybe your characters are experiencing war or maybe they're waging war against other characters or groups. Likely, you are not a general or expert in warfare. How do you write a story that is set during a war?

Who's fighting who?

The first, most obvious, step is to know who is fighting whom and why. Wars are between groups of people. They can be a small clan, a massive nation, or even an entire planet or galaxy. Two characters fighting it out are not considered "at war" because they are representing themselves and settling an individual dispute, even if it is a high-stakes dispute.

Why are the parties in your story fighting? There are a lot of different reasons why two groups of people would go to war against each other, but most wars are over resources at their center. Disputes over land and borders, over who gets what crops and for what price, and even religious wars are usually about the resources available and scarcity. So when you're talking about war, you need to know what either side wants. Just like a character, your war parties need to have desires and stakes.

"Resources" can mean just about anything that society needs. Food, fresh water, opportunities for trade, minerals, metals, building materials, and wealth are all examples of resources your war parties can fight over.

What does it take to wage war?

Wars require resources too. It's not just about getting resources but spending resources as well. When nations go to war in the real world, there are opportunities for people to make exorbitant amounts of money and wealth by taking advantage of a wartime economy.

The parties waging war need people to fight their battles. They need to pay those people, arm them, feed and clothe them, and transport them to where they need to be. Where does the government or person in charge get the food, armor, weapons, and transportation? Where do they allocate those scarce resources? Oftentimes in war, those in charge must make sacrifices. Is there a portion of land that the person in charge gives up to protect another portion with their limited resources?

There are unlimited stories hidden in these questions, and a large base of world-building will help to answer these questions in depth. There are many opportunities for tension and rising stakes for your war parties in the event that the opposing side makes acquiring war resources difficult or impossible.

Types of Armies

Your armies tell you a lot about the resources available to your characters and how you can build your story and plot line around the war. So I'll discuss the differences between four types of armies that exist in the real world and throughout history. These are examples; you can change or twist these examples however best suits your story.

The first is a professional army. These guys are paid and trained by the state; being in the army is their entire job. The army can fill a number of different roles other than fighting, but their purpose is to provide martial protection to the people of their nation and carry out martial orders from the government or sovereign entity in charge. Important aspects of a professional army to consider: these soldiers are paid for their work, they are trained by professionals, and oftentimes they follow a hierarchy or chain of command. Most governments provide medical care to their professional armies, but this isn't required. The soldiers can be conscripted or voluntary.

Next up is a mercenary army. This army is also paid for their services, but they are not trained by the state, and they ultimately take their orders from the organization, not the government. The government commissions the mercenary army for their services. The government does not provide most of the resources required to maintain an army. They pay for the army but don't necessarily feed, arm, or clothe them.

A fyrd is a historical term that refers specifically to the Anglo-Saxon armies raised by different Lords and Thegns to protect their lands and shires. These armies consisted of civilians and able-bodied free men from the local settlements and farms gathered by the ealdorman. They were conscripted into the service, and they lacked formal martial training. Also, importantly, their provisions and weapons were provided by the soldiers themselves. Meaning you will see fewer long swords and forged weapons for the purposes of fighting and more axes and improvised weaponry. The purposes of the improvised weaponry are primarily as other tools, such as axes for chopping wood and knives for butchery. Any horses or mules brought along for work or fighting are the property of the lords or farm owners who provided them.

A militia is very similar to a fyrd; this army consists of civilians who are paid or conscripted into service by the government but are not professional soldiers. These militias may sometimes have training from professional soldiers among their ranks, but mostly they are civilians training themselves. The soldiers provide their provisions, weaponry, and armor, meaning that the wealth has to come from the soldiers and their professional jobs and not from their martial services. The militia is a more modern term, but it is marginally different in that most militias we think of today are voluntary and not conscripted.

Battle Strategy

This is where a little research may help you. Battles behave differently depending on different factors. What technology and weaponry is available to your war parties? Are we talking about bladed weapons or guns or lasers? Is your army a professional or mercenary army, or is it more like a fyrd or militia?

When setting up a battle in your story, focus on the differences between the two armies and how that may affect their strategy toward fighting or engaging the enemy. If your fyrd faces a professional army, they may encounter some problems regarding weaponry and armor. Your fyrd will struggle to match a professional army in defending against well-made weapons and professional training. How do they work to compensate for those weaknesses?

When looking at two equally armed and trained armies, a general or battle strategist will look to the terrain to plan a battle. Generally, controlling the high ground helps in battles. If one army has a heavy cavalry presence, your opposing army may want anti-cavalry measures in place. Do they have the space to do so? Urban areas will lend themselves well to guerilla-style and urban warfare tactics. Jungles and forests will look different to hills and plains, and deserts bring unique problems to a battle that a mountainous terrain might not.

What is the battle for? Battles have a purpose; otherwise, there would be no value to the loss of troops. What is worth the risk of losing lives? Does the battle have stakes? Some stakes that might be worth conducting a battle over include taking control of a river pass, allowing naval trade and travel, cutting off control of a trade route to the enemy, or invading an important town or city to process and refine necessary materials.

Ending the War

The war will eventually end if your characters are lucky. But what ends a war? Wars usually end with agreements between the two opposing parties following surrender or extension of peaceful negotiations. Negotiating what each party needs or wants is an art in and of itself. Each party must come to the agreement that waging war further is more expensive and less rewarding than ending violent opposition with concessions made by either side.

Conclusion

Wars and battles are like characters; they have needs, desires, and stakes. Writing your characters in a war or battle will hinge on the needs and stakes of the greater war and story. Important questions to ask are: what are we fighting for? Who are we fighting? And what happens if we don't fight?

–Indy

[mindblowingscience]

At 5:29 am on the morning of 16 July 1945, in the state of New Mexico, a dreadful slice of history was made. The dawn calm was torn asunder as the United States Army detonated a plutonium implosion device known as the Gadget – the world's very first test of a nuclear bomb, known as the Trinity test. This moment would change warfare forever. The energy release, equivalent to 21 kilotons of TNT, vaporized the 30-meter test tower (98 ft) and miles of copper wires connecting it to recording equipment. The resulting fireball fused the tower and copper with the asphalt and desert sand below into green glass – a new mineral called trinitite. Decades later, scientists discovered a secret hidden in a piece of that trinitite – a rare form of matter known as a quasicrystal, once thought to be impossible. "Quasicrystals are formed in extreme environments that rarely exist on Earth," geophysicist Terry Wallace of Los Alamos National Laboratory explained in 2021.

Continue Reading.

[scribe-of-hael]

The Path to Hell is paved with good intentions

I think what is interesting is the drive that is the Autobots and Decpeticons. Mostly the cause of the Decpeticons and Megatron himself.

Alot of the time we see Megatron to be a crazy, battle hungry, warlord whos hel bent of causing destruction, conquering all in his path and who cares only about his goal to rule.

Over the years we have seen many version of Megatron. From silly goofy villain who's somtiems could acutally be a threat like in g1, to pash, cold, cunning like TFA, to being a crazy war lord who is incredibly cruel in TFP.

But these versions are mostly a Megatron who came from fighting, or had no good intentions to begin with besides being selfish or power hungry.

Then you have TFE and IDW/IDW2 (and possibly tf one). A different apprich to a character. Some may say its to make someone who has done cruel things as more sympathetic. But I think adds depth and personality.

Giving more than a crazy leader with silly goons, to a person who genuinely thought at the beginning, "I want things to change, for the better ,because it is broken"

Much howOptimus, the humble data clerk (hate he is a cop in idw tbh) and the hard working miner. Your everyday ppl, going through diffenrt struggles and honestly. I think woukd be fair to say that Orion wouldn't know the struggles of lower level bots that don't even have proper names..

Like D-16. The mech whis become Megatron.

Both Optimus and Megatron i think wnates to see a change , but how they both went about it i what added the conflict.

These two are basically your average everyday people. Megatron was an average everyday person. He wasn't born into the pits, net a warrior. A worker.

I think with alot of cartoon "villains" to we get older and started to see from a adult perspective. "Oh wait they are making sense." And how MESSED up the situation even was to drive these characters to this point.

Its no longer good vs evil, it is two ideals fighting aginst each other. What was once a fight for what these two sides believes in, turned into warfare and blood shed. To the mentality of Megatron being

"I can't trust anyone to right thing, besides me. I am the only one who can fix this, I can lead us."

You know what I could also see Optimus having the SAME mentality when comes to fighting megatron and restoring Cybertron. They are very much two sides of the same coin. I think that's what adds to the conflict between them. Optimus could be one bad day away from becoming Megatron onnthe sense of wanting to control the situation despite what costs just to not se Megatron when.

And you know he HAS done this. Yeeting the allspark for one to not let Megatron have ir but at the cost of Cybteron and its occupance. It was a loose loose situation regardless.

When it comes to alt-modist mentality, this high class vs low class, and the corruption of Cybertron. It is no wonder why so many people believes in the Decpeticon causes.

The reason why I clung so hard to Transformers Earthspark Megatron is because this was a break out from his character. To later learn it definitely took inspo from IDW who explored this character further sealed my admiration for him.

No one in the tf universe is less or more guilty. Both sides have done HORRIBLE things. Experimentation, brutality, killing innocence and their own soldiers just to get the won up. The autobots are not without their own blood shed. Only SOME of the autobots have a bit more regard for life and the planet they sit on. It doenst mean all of them do, and it doenst mean people within the groups around Optimus like it. But because they are painted as good guys we exapect them to.

Its when Decpeticons seem to take an interest in life do I find it way more compelling because it is out of their characteristics. They are the "bad guys"

Knockout being interested in Human cinema

Thundercracker being into writing and making movies

They are still PEOPLE. With interests and hobbies, internal conflicts and hesitations.

To see a Megatron not only fight aginst his own army , but take a human, a HUMAN as a friend that he TRUSTS?! That he gave up his Cybertronian already mode UP FOR?! Thats a bug FUCKING deal.

Just the contrast to TFW Megs to say TFP. Tfp depsite it beingbbetter for camouflage NEVER changes his alt mode. He is never willing to acutally change, he is so deeply rooted in what he is, who he is. What he is doing. That he is unwilling to change to the surroundings. No the surrounding will change BECAUSE of him.

While TFE realized a change was needed to fix things, to work together, to show I AM CHANGING, I WANT TO DO THE RIGHT THING.

This is not a Slander Optimus rant or a WOW Megatron is such a great guy essay.

Was mostly me rambling.

[contentment-of-cats]

More Chiss head canons

Why, yes. I am geeking out.

1: The Chiss came from a 'sleeper ship' that missed its target world around 30,000 years ago after being launched from the Ratukan Empire. The ship spent 3,000 or 4,000 years in transit. The Humans who reached Csilla found not a welcoming world, but a planet that experienced periodic ice ages.

2: The Chiss skin color evolved from minerals in the hydrosphere, and were later found to be a silica-based life form that acted as a symbiont, allowing rapid evolutionary changes. The life form is now extinct, but slotted itself into the genes of the settlers and has remained in Chiss DNA and is outwardly reflected in their iridescent 'freckles' - which are a silicate similar to mica. The freckles will shed from time to time over the course of a Chiss' life. It was debated at the time that this was a sapient life form that was dying out, and 'invaded' the settlers to survive. Others argued that it was a type megavirus or even a hive virus with no sentience. Many settlers died from the 'infection' in a time called 'The Interval' before Ancient Chiss evolved into Modern Chiss about 5,000 years after the founding.

3: The Chiss terraformed Csilla over tens of thousands of years, turning it into a garden world, settling other worlds in the same time period. Before the Intergalactic War where they allied with the Sith, the Chiss governed an empire. After the Intergalactic War and the use of the Starflash along with Ratukan weaponry, the Chiss never terraformed another planet as penance for their sins.

4: Hundreds of Chiss colonies were lost to the warfare that created the Chaos. What is not mentioned in any modern history course is that the Chaos was created deliberately to confound both Sith and Jedi. The Chaos interfered, as as seen in Alliances, with the ability to find other Force users in the Chaos. Palpatine could not find the Sky-walkers until they were taken beyond the borders of the Chaos.

5: Chiss history is heavily redacted. After the Intergalactic War, they changed even their system of writing to make it incomprehensible to outsiders. Cheunh is not allowed to be spoken in the presence of outsiders, and communication instead relies on trade languages like Minnisiat. Meese Caulf, and Sy Bisti.

6: There are Chiss intelligence agents in 'Lesser Space' and even in the Empire and Rebellion itself. Candidates must be smaller than average and undertake extensive surgical remodeling to pass as other species. It includes eye transplants, and only the most dedicated (fanatical) of intelligence officers will undergo the years-long process. The program is top-level clearance, with six people at a time knowing about the program and allowed to read the briefs. The Supreme Admiral, the Supreme General, the UAG Chief, the Speaker of the Syndicure, and two civilians who are kept anonymous.

7: The histories of many planets speaks of blue warriors, or even blue gods who disappeared 5,000 years back. Chiss ruins can be found on Hoth, though nobody can now read the language.

8: There are Chiss who live outside the Ascendancy, descended from exiles and those who fled in other ways. If any Chiss of the Ascendancy happens on the Outlanders, they are instructed to report immediately, detain if possible, terminate in extreme cases only. In some cases, these Outlanders have hundreds of years outside of the Ascendancy and are not keen on going back.

9: Yes, there are a number of women in the CEDF, and nobody would stand in their way. As with Lakinda/Ziinda, it's a way for girls of Common and Lesser families to move up and secure their future outside of making a good match and having children. Blood-born girls like Ziara are heavily pressured not to join.

10: Upon leaving service, Sky-walkers are not encouraged to talk to others about being Sky-walkers, even to other former Sky-walkers. They are largely isolated by the Ruling Families, and pushed to marry within their adoptive or an allied House. Many do marry within their adopting House as it is well-known that the little girls of Ruling Houses are seldom chosen as Sky-walkers.

[drdemonprince]

"Americans will NEVER stand talk in front of cops with long guns in the name of others."

dog... i'm not even american and can rattle off a long list of times where that *did* happen. not even just cops, but the actual military. from the 19th century to now. from pre-us civil war abolitionists to unions facing off with the pinkertons and state troops to literal warfare between miners and the military to black civil rights activists to anti-vietnam war protests to kent state to queer liberation to anti-war protests in the bush era to occupy to ferguson to BLM to DAPL/indigenious activists to pro-palestine activists this fucking year.

like... we can argue about efficacy & approach (especially with more recent movements) but the above statement is so patently false, it's laughable.

yep. we have some deep seated cultural issues and the nation state should not exist but the problem isnt some essential rot in the hearts of the people here. even how bad we fuckin are at forming community is systemic, and the product of a lot of intentional work on the part of the cia/doj/large corporations/police etc

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Now I’m Covered In You [Chapter 1: Afternoon Light]

Series summary: Aemond is a prince of England. You are married to his brother. The Wars of the Roses are about to begin, and you have failed to fulfill your one crucial responsibility: to give the Greens a line of legitimate heirs. Will you survive the demands of your family back in Navarre, the schemes of the Duke of Hightower, the scandals of your dissolute husband, the growing animosity of Daemon Targaryen…and your own realization of a forbidden love?

Series title is a lyric from: Ivy by Taylor Swift.

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+), dubious consent, miscarriage, pregnancy, childbirth, violence, warfare, murder, alcoholism, sexism, infidelity, illness, death, only vaguely historically accurate, lots of horses!

Word count: 3.9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

A/N: Not me pulling a Tom Brady by announcing my retirement only to immediately un-announce it. 😂😂 I regret to inform you that I am apparently incapable of not writing fanfiction. I had no ideas for a grand total of 1 week before this story showed up and possessed me entirely against my will...and then I fell in love with it. I’m still working on my book, but I had to get this out of my system too. I hope you enjoy it. 💜 I’ll tag some of my past readers, but I WILL NOT TAG YOU AGAIN unless you ask me to! 🥰

@elsolario @ladylannisterxo @doingfondue @tclegane @quartzs-posts @liathelioness @aemcndtargaryen @thelittleswanao3 @burningcoffeetimetravel @poohxlove @borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @travelingmypassion @graykageyama @skythighs @lauraneedstochill @darlingimafangirl @charenlie @thewew @eddies-bat-tattoos @minttea07 @joliettes @trifoliumviridi @flowerpotmage​ @thewitch-lives​ @tempt-ress​ @padfooteyes​ @teenagecriminalmastermind​ @chelsey01​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @heliosscribbles​ @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen​ @narwhal-swimmingintheocean​ @tillyt04​ @cicaspair418​ @fan-goddess

He’s thrusting into you, but you’re miles away: a speck of an island in the Mediterranean Sea, the glimmer of an unnamed star.

His rhythm is clumsy but never rough. He smells like wine and sandalwood, lavender and bleak perspiration. You moan when he expects you to. Your body moves with his, compliant, complicit. You roll your hips and tug at his white-blond hair, corollaries of ecstasy you wish you felt. You’ve learned to feign pleasure convincingly. Aegon will stop if he thinks you’re not enjoying yourself, and you need this to be over. What do you want me to do to you? he’ll ask, cerulean eyes drunk and muddy, words slurred, body repositioning. Do you like it this way? How about this? You can’t bear his curious consideration, his invasive hands. You don’t really like it any way. You’ve grown to accept that. You’ve had time to get used to the idea.

The air is sharp with the mineral ether of sex. Spots on the sheet beneath you are wet, clinging, cold. When Aegon kisses you—sloppily, carelessly—your lips and tongue follow his, willing him to finish, your eyes squeezed shut as he gropes your face with ungainly fingers. And at last, it’s done: he shudders, groans, flops down beside you on the mattress.

“Well done, wife,” Aegon pants. He gives your disheveled hair one absentminded stroke and then gazes up at the canopy, cloth embroidered with green roses and spiraling gold dragons. He yawns, his eyes dipping closed. The rise and fall of his bare, glistening chest is slowing.

“Aegon?”

“Hm?” He is inconvenienced; he is already half-asleep.

You roll onto your side, turning towards him. Aegon feels the mattress shift. Reluctantly, he rouses himself, sighs, swallows the rest of the wine in the cup he left perched on the nightstand. “I’m so sorry,” you say softly.

“About what?” He peers at you, groggy and half-listening, stray beads of red wine like blood on his chin. “Oh, yes. That.”

That. What he means is three miscarriages in one year, all early, all excruciating beyond words, all destructive to both the body and the soul. “You have no idea how hard I’m trying.”

“Don’t worry yourself, wife,” he says, yawning again. He always calls you that—wife—with a vague, impersonal fondness. Aegon doesn’t know anything about you. He doesn’t seem interested in remedying that. He doesn’t see it as something to be remedied at all. He attempts to set his empty cup back on the nightstand and doesn’t notice when it tumbles off and clanks against the floor. He burrows beneath the blankets like a hedgehog. “We’ll get it right eventually.”

Eventually, you think with horror, as you are left alone in the candlelight; Aegon plummets into sleep and is silent except for his snoring. How long will I have to do this?

Twelve months of marriage and you are no closer to fulfilling your purpose here. You are told what to eat, when to sleep with your husband, how to lie still afterwards so his seed can take hold, which saints to pray to. You are offered tender-voiced morsels of advice until they feel more like palms cracking across your face than gifts. Every second of your existence is consumed by the desperate need for Aegon’s heir, for the Greens’ future. And each time you lose a pregnancy, the clock starts over again.

How long can I do this before it breaks me, kills me, drives me mad?

~~~~~~~~~~

When a northern pike glides through cool rippling currents, yellow perch and bluegills scatter; and that’s exactly what the courtiers do to you. It’s a bit like living inside a glass bowl: people press their palms to the arched walls and stare like you’re a captive animal—a leopard or an elephant or a white bear from the Arctic—but they don’t speak to you. None of them know what to say. There are whispers flying, women in gowns and men in tunics gossiping about how last night was the first time the prince returned to your bed since your most recent miscarriage. The tentative speculation can begin again, glances at your waistline and delicate inquiries about your health. Bets are placed on whether you will at last produce an heir this time: boy, girl, white-haired or not, early, late, alive, dead. The clock has been reset.

You do not allow anyone to see your pain, your desperation. You have no true friends here. You are allied with the Greens, yes, but that does not mean they are your friends. The Duke of Hightower, chief advisor to the king, was insistent that you bring none of your ladies with you from your homeland; and so the women who attend you are English, polite but not particularly devoted, dutiful but not reliably discreet. He wanted no weak links, no chess pieces that he could not entirely control, no loyalties that ran deeper than his ambitions for Alicent and her children. Now, the Duke of Hightower is fiercely disappointed with you. He’s losing his ability to hide it.

As you traverse the Great Hall of Westminster Palace—an island, a lone cloud roaming across a clear sky—Prince Daemon, smirking and wolflike, stalks into your path.

“Hello there, Navarre,” he says, circling with one hand on the hilt of his sword, his strange deep-set eyes flicking all over you. He likes to call you this, a reminder of where you came from, of why Aegon married you: for an alliance, for advantages in the inevitable civil war when King Viserys dies, for heirs intrinsically linked with the Continent. You were one piece of a far grander design. Helaena was married off to Castile, you were brought west from Navarre, and thus the Greens gained supporters in the Iberian Peninsula. Helaena has given birth to one healthy son so far, and by all accounts has found great happiness in her new life across the Bay of Biscay. Daemon never tires of drawing attention to the fact that you have yet to fulfill your half of the bargain.

You bow your head swiftly, without conviction. “Prince Daemon.”

“My, that’s quite an extravagant gown. What have you got hidden under it? Your father’s famed archers, perhaps? Gold coins and steel daggers? I know what Prince Aegon would want under his skirts.” Daemon grins. “Lady Joanna Montford. Or is it Mountford? You must forgive me, I’m always mixing up the details.”

“I’ll defer to your better judgment, you have far more experience with whores than I do.”

He offers you a single rose, dyed black. “I regret that I did not have the opportunity to properly express my condolences after your most recent loss. It’s become difficult to keep up with them, they’ve grown so numerous. I’m sure you understand.”

You take the rose; untrimmed thorns bite into the defenseless flesh of your fingertips, but you don’t let it show on your face. “Only one from you? Your wife sent me a dozen.” They were red, the color of Navarre’s flag; though the resemblance to blood did not escape you.

“Yes, it’s true, her heart remains rather tender, much to my chagrin.”

“And yours remains nonexistent.” You pluck onyx petals from the rose one by one and toss them to the floor. Courtiers watch this, chattering spiritedly.

Daemon is still grinning. He has won. It never matters what you say, what you do; until you give Aegon a son, in every interaction Daemon walks away the victor. “I hope you enjoy the rest of this glorious July afternoon. And I hope you enjoy your evening as well. And the evening after that, and the evening after that…” He prowls closer, his voice dropping low and sinister. “And all those countless, blundering, long evenings you’ll spend under your mortifying drunk of a husband.”

You rip away from him—not his hands, no, even Daemon would not deign to touch you in front of an audience, but from his suffocating antipathy—and continue on your way to the royal stables, courtiers dispersing in your wake like startled doves. The cobblestones of the palace gardens are weather-beaten and craggy as you sail over them, warm summer wind in your hair, the hem of your gown dragging. Herbs and spices grow high and vivid green: angelica for digestion, feverfew for headaches, St. John’s wort for melancholy, betony to ward off evil spirits, chamomile to bring sleep, rosemary to quell nightmares, pennyroyal to induce a woman’s monthly blood. You have the opposite problem. All you seem to be able to do is bleed.

Inside the royal stables, the world is reduced to hushed subtleties: hooves thudding against straw, nickers and huffs, the swishing of tails, cascading sunlight dotted with whirling planets of dust. You drift by each of the stalls, inhaling the scent of horses and mid-summer. King Viserys promised you an Andalusian, brought by ship all the way from your homeland, for each child born to you and Aegon; alas, none of the animals housed here are yours yet. There’s Sunfyre, an Akhal-Teke, small-boned and shimmering gold. There’s Caraxes, a temperamental blood bay Arabian, and Syrax, a Marwari, cremello with blue eyes and delicate ears that curl in towards each other. Tessarion is a dappled blue-grey Percheron, young but gaining height and brute force each day. Jacaerys and Lucerys have Marwaris like their mother, Baela and Rhaena own volatile Arabians like their father. Joffrey is still riding a slow, potbellied pony; little Aegon III, Viserys II, and Visenya cannot ride at all yet. Every time you blink, it seems, the Blacks have added another child to their ranks, another inheritor to carry their claim forward. Your stomach sinks beneath your skin and scarlet ropes of muscle, a basket full of rocks.

You stop at the last stall, twice the size of any of the others. Vhagar towers over you. She is an English Great Horse, and the largest one that anyone can remember knowing of; her coat is a dark, lustrous brown, her massive hooves feathered, her muzzle sloped and velvety when you lay your palm against it. She lets you do this, as she always does; more than that, you think, she welcomes it.

You remove the letter from your bodice, your true purpose for coming here. You want to read it where you can be alone, where there are no prying eyes to report back to King Viserys, Queen Alicent, the Duke of Hightower, Aegon, Daemon, Rhaenyra the Crown Princess. You must keep your composure, your dignity. It’s all you have left.

You unfold the letter, your gaze skimming across your mother’s words, the slopes and summits of her letters heartbreakingly familiar, her fears loud through the ink-and-parchment silence. You expected this, and yet the weight of it stacks up in your ribcage like the splintered wreckage of a ship.

Think, my love, the Queen of Navarre writes. Think of everything you do, see, say, and feel. There is something that is poisoning the children inside of you. Do not trouble yourself with court gossip or bitter rivalries. You cannot serve your husband’s family—your family, now—if your attention is divided and your heart heavy with doubts. Shut yourself away from all things impassioned. Commit yourself to prayer and needlework. Purify yourself, dear daughter, prepare yourself in body and soul. God answers the cries of those who have won his favor.

You crumple the letter in your fists and then rip it to pieces, not out of wrath but so that nobody else might read it. The fragments flutter away like autumn leaves. You cannot resent your mother for her cushioned reprimands. She means well, but she cannot hope to understand; she bore ten children, eight of whom lived past the cradle, with no exceptional difficulty. Your father has taken mistresses on occasion, but not until years into his marriage, and regardless of his dalliances your mother remains his confidant, his greatest desire, his heart. Your life is nothing like hers. Your future has become something you didn’t know existed. You feel as if you have stumbled into a mirror, a duplicate world where everything is the same but the wrong way around. Where is your own satisfaction? Where is your soulmate?

There are footsteps, and you spin to see Prince Aemond standing in the doorway. He immediately turns to leave, and this is unsurprising; he never speaks to you, rarely looks at you, glides out of rooms as you come into them. You had once hoped to befriend him before his aversion to the notion became clear. He is palpably disinterested in you. But this afternoon as warm golden sunlight spills down on him, for reasons you cannot fathom, he hesitates; and now he’s waited too long, it would be rude for him to flee so obviously from you. Slowly, Aemond walks into the stable. He is so much like Daemon, though lighter: not in color but in gravity, his steps quieter, his hands graceful and precise. You’ve never seen him without his eyepatch. The Blacks call the cause of his maiming a sparring accident, the Greens call it an ambush, King Viserys doesn’t call it anything; perhaps he has forgotten it completely.

You expect Aemond to demand to know what you’re doing here, to scold you for jeopardizing your health with unnecessary excursions. “I’m so sorry for what you’re going through,” he says instead, his voice whisper-soft like pattering spring rain, like a leaf of lamb’s ear threaded between your fingers. “I hope my brother has been…kind about it.”

“He’s very kind. He doesn’t mention it at all.” Not once has anybody said those three words to you: I’m so sorry. They lift a million pounds from your shoulders, an eon of stones from your belly. “In fact, no one speaks of it with me. They speak in my direction, they tell me what to do differently, they assign blame…but no one has any interest in what I have to say back. No one asks me what it feels like to…to…”

It shocks you, knuckles to the gut: your breath hitches, your lips tremble, you swallow down tears like poison. It’s humiliating, this display of helplessness, this shattering of regal poise. You shield your face with both hands so Aemond cannot watch you war with yourself. And surely he is repulsed by you, this prince who has been mutilated and unavenged and overlooked since childhood. You have never known anyone as self-possessed as Aemond Targaryen. He endures all of life’s trials without emotion, without weakness. He must be appalled that you cannot do the same.

Yet when you are at last confident that you will not weep in front of him, you lower your hands to see that Aemond has silently obliterated the space between you. He is close enough to touch, his palm pressed to Vhagar’s monstrous neck. He’s looking at the horse, but he is listening to you. “She likes you,” he says gently. “She doesn’t like anyone.”

You’ve never been in such proximity to Aemond before. He’s taller than you remember; his eye is watchful and intent, a paler shade of blue than Aegon’s, more clear, a river rather than a sea riotous with storms. When you inhale, you taste pieces of him: leather, musk, the smoke of a blacksmith’s forge. There’s an abrupt weakness in your knees and ankles that you pretend not to notice. “Most of my friends have hooves these days.”

“I never see you go out riding.”

“I’m not allowed to.”

For an instant, his brow knits with confusion, and then he remembers. Horseback riding is thought to be calamitous for pregnancy, and your chances are slim enough already. “But that’s something that you once enjoyed, back in Navarre?” You flinch when you hear the name of your homeland, a reflex, Daemon’s taunts ringing in your skull like church bells. Everyone knows that’s what he calls you. “Forgive me, perhaps that word has painful connotations now.”

“It doesn’t sound so bad when you say it.” And that’s true: it’s not a dagger but a murmur, a musing, a dream. “Yes, I used to love riding horses. And dancing, attending hunting expeditions, reading poetry, plucking olives from the trees…my brothers and I would even knock swords together sometimes in the courtyard.” You smile wistfully, then lose it like a gull feather on waves. “And now I don’t do anything.”

“What brings you happiness here in England?”

“Nothing,” you reply, meeting his gaze for the first time. He studies you, his eye blue like the mid-summer afternoon sky, searching. And suddenly, you’ve never felt more interesting, you’ve never felt such raw hunger to unearth everything you’re built of. You skate your palm down Vhagar’s face and confess quietly, shakily: “I always thought I would teach my children to ride horses.”

“You will someday,” Aemond insists.

“When you’re little, five or ten years old, you dream about growing up and all the miraculous things you’ll be. And then you finally become an adult and you meet the rest of your life and…and…” You don’t like it. “It’s so different from what you imagined.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees, soft and mournful.

“But I’ve interrupted you,” you say. “You came here to take Vhagar riding, I’m sure, and now you’re caught in my little web of nostalgia and self-pity. Please, accept my apology, and don’t let me delay you any further.”

“I was planning to go riding,” Aemond admits. He’s wearing a black leather messenger bag, you notice for the first time. He pulls at the strap that hangs from his right shoulder self-consciously. You have never seen Aemond betray any sign of self-consciousness before this moment. In many ways, you have never seen him at all. He asks you pointedly: “What if I took Vhagar out walking you accompanied me?”

“I told you. I can’t.”

“Not riding,” Aemond says. “Just walking. We’ll lead her down to the edge of the forest, let her stretch her legs a bit and eat some of the fallen apples. You’re allowed to walk, aren’t you?”

“I suppose so.” You stare at him, perplexed. You almost ask why he would offer to do such a thing, why he would feel inspired to raise your spirits. But you don’t want him to change his mind. You point to his messenger bag. “What do you have in there?”

“Parchment. Quills. A bottle of ink.”

“What do you write? Battle plans? Letters to marriageable foreign noblewomen?”

“Poems,” Aemond confesses in a whisper you can barely hear, not looking at you.

“Could I read some of your poems?”

“No,” he says immediately, startled.

“Never mind. It was wrong of me to ask.”

He doesn’t reply; he just fetches Vhagar’s halter from the hook on the stable wall, black leather studded with sapphires the size of ladybugs. She allows Aemond to place it on her without any resistance. He attaches the lead chain—heavy silver links—but he doesn’t need it. Vhagar follows him out of the stables, her colossal hooves drumming like distant thunder, her jet black mane whipping in the wind. Aemond matches his pace with yours as the three of you cross the emerald green field that separates Westminster Palace from the tree line of the forest.

After strolling for a while—Vhagar chomping on apples, you stepping gingerly over felled branches and gnarled roots—you and Aemond sit beneath a sprawling cedar that blots out the sun, its limbs like the wings of a dragon. He recounts myths and legends of England, things that Aegon has not thought to share with you once in the past twelve months, weeks of which you spent in bed bleeding out his would-be children: King Arthur and Beowulf, Robin Hood and the Rollright Stones, Saint George the guardian of the royal family. And as Aemond speaks, at some point you stop hearing him and start seeing him, everything that brought him here, everything that will happen next.

Once upon a time, King Viserys named his daughter Rhaenyra his successor. She was his only surviving offspring, the last vestige of his cherished wife Aemma, dead in fruitless childbirth and cold in her tomb in Windsor Castle. The king then promptly remarried and fathered four more Targaryens, closer to afterthoughts than assets in his eyes: Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, Daeron. Rhaenyra is still the king’s favorite, and is much loved in Northern England, where her mother hailed from. She has the support of Scotland as well. Her marriage to their Crown Prince Laenor Velaryon was meant to consolidate the two nations under one ruling family, one flag. To reinforce this alliance, her uncle Daemon wed Laenor’s sister Laena. But then Laena died, and Laenor did too, and all those tragic pieces fell together for Rhaenyra to get what she evidently wanted all along: Daemon in wedlock, in her confidence, in her bed. Her sons with Laenor will soon marry his daughters with Laena, and each new white-haired child she produces with her uncle gives the Blacks one more dynastic pawn to play in the game of thrones.

The merchants of Southern England—the Duke of Hightower foremost among them—are aghast at the thought of Rhaenyra’s ascension. No woman has ever successfully ruled England, and she is sure to be malevolently influenced by her uncle-husband. The Pope will not sanction their incestuous union, nor those of their children, though this does not daunt the Blacks. They will make a new order here in the British Isles; they will not play by the Continent’s rules. In reply, the kingdoms of Western Europe—to varying degrees of zealousness—support the Greens and the coronation of Aegon II upon his father’s death. King Viserys is in fine health now, but that could change at a moment’s notice: with a fall from a horse, with veins darkened by infection, with a vial of poison, with a resurgence of Plague. When the king is dead, Aegon must have every possible advantage to offer England, including a clear line of succession. This was supposed to be your role. This has become your greatest failure. Yet here under a hundred-year-old cedar tree outside Westminster Palace, Aemond makes you forget that for a while.

Hours later, you are back in your bedchamber when your husband arrives to fuck you. That’s a crude word for it, but that’s exactly what it is: something he does to you, not with you. You gulp down a cup of your apple cider, the drink you like best here in England, not as thick and bitter as ale, not a poor imposter of the Continent’s red wine. It is bright, sweet, sometimes vaguely minty. It makes you think of spring and summer, of rebirth. It fills you with the undying ambition to bear fruit of your own.

You turn to Aegon, who is yanking off his white shirt with his back to you, his hair in disarray, his pores sweating out wine and indifference. He crawls into the bed on all fours, slapping himself lightly across the face, forcing himself to stay awake until the act is done.

And you think, for the very first time: I wonder what it would have been like to marry Aemond.

[cybertron-after-dark]

No restraints anymore.:

*Gripping your shoulders normally for any possible Boulder x Graham headcanons you have, please please please-

(Can be SFW or NSFW, just really starved for content.)

I think about these dweebs more than anyone should, I think they should have kissed on screen.

We'll keep it sfw for right now, nsfw might happen later

-Pun FIENDS. They'll set each other up for the most GROAN-inducing punchlines, and they've gotten so good at communicating it subtly, nobody else on the team knows when the worst pun they've heard all week is coming until it's already struck. It's gotten to the point where one will OBVIOUSLY set the other up and the other "ignores" it, keeping everyone on their toes until way later when the punchline hits like a brick. It's psychological warfare at this point.

-Boulder can't really eat most human food, and that makes him very sad, because there's so much variety and humans always seem like they really enjoy it. He tries to live vicariously through Graham in that regard by having him describe whatever food's caught his attention. He thanks Graham for his trouble by doing the same thing with various metals, minerals and energon blends that would probably kill Graham if he tried them.

-Cuddles are frequent Graham can be a little shy about physical affection, but he really does love when Boulder holds him. Boulder worries that his armor and treads are uncomfortable to a soft organic, so he'll usually have Graham in his arms, snuggled up in a thick, fuzzy blanket. He keeps one in his cab for that exact reason.

-Boulder likes playing with Graham's hair a lot. It's cute, and he's fascinated by the fuzzy texture. He finds himself idly petting Graham when he's nearby pretty often. It's just kind of relaxing. Graham isnt totally sure of how to feel about his giant robot boyfriend petting him like a small animal, but he's pretty sure he likes it?

-Boulder can be a little insecure about how he looks. Conventional Cybertronian attractiveness leans more towards sleek, trim, speedy, complex optics and biolights, luxury altmodes and minimal kibble. Boulder has approximately... None of that. It's not really a standard he holds anyone else to, just something he's internalized that's a little hard to unlearn. Sometimes it seems like he sees beauty in everything and everyone, except himself. Graham, lacking in the same internalized cultural biases, can't see much of anything EXCEPT beauty in Boulder. He's big, strong, capable, soft-spoken and intelligent, he's a mechanical marvel and the way he can rearrange himself into something else entirely is stunning. He is something wonderful and powerful, and he could never see such a spectacle of a person as an eyesore. Once he picks up on Boulder's hangups, he makes it his mission to help him see that.

-Graham knows he spends a lot of time in his own head, so when he's thinking about Boulder and thinks up something he wants to ask him, or something sweet he wants to say to him, he'll write it on a sticky note so he wont assume he already said it and forget.

-They were both pretty worried about the reaction from the team when they first got together. Graham hadn't realized he liked guys until he fell for Boulder, and neither of them knew how a cross-species relationship would be seen, by the Burns family OR the other Bots. They thought it'd be best to hide the relationship until they were confident enough to announce it. Or, at least, they TRIED to hide it. Neither is particularly subtle or a good liar, so the whole affair was pretty much an open secret. (And then became FULLY open info when everyone sort of acting like they didn't know drove Blades crazy and he finally asked what the deal was. Mortifying, but it did take a lot of pressure off for Graham and Boulder when they got to find out everyone was cool with it.)

[idlepollingofcybertron]

POLLING FAN CONTINUITY

In the latest Transformers continuity for former fans of IDW, it focuses on Cybertron. The war has ended in a divided Cybertron with ruled in one hemisphere by Autobots and the other by Decepticons with open warfare over but tensions still high. Elita-1 and Starscream have taken over leading their factions due to the mysterious disappearance of Optimus Prime and Megatron. The only clue are hidden messages between the leaders ending in an arrangement to meet in secret right before they vanished.

Megatron, a miner turned gladiator turned poet turned founder of the Decepticon Movement, and Optimus Prime, a worker at an Energon Refinery ascended to Primehood who declared them Autobots, are not just leaders but founders and central figures in their respective factions' cores. They have to be found.

Humanity is met during the search for the leaders including: Dr. Isaac Sumdac and his daughter Sari; June, Jack, Raf, Miko, and Fowler; Marissa Faireborn and her newborn daughter Sue; and Astoria Carlton-Ritz who is funding the operation. They have ended up on Cybertron due to a spacebridge accident when Isaac's experiment connected with the spacebrige on Cybertron, but importantly they've been getting several different patterns and signals that they translate slowly to realize are messages from Cybertron and contain secrets.

Cybertron has one general shared belief in that Primus, their creator, is both their god and planet. The Primes are therefore divinely chosen to lead their people as his representative according to tradition and the most popular belief system. The exact nature of worship and origin of the species is murky in history and many different cults, beliefs, and churches exist in the across Cybertron tracing their origins back to stories of ancient heroes and potential demigods.

Reproduction for Cybertronian is done through a mix of different methods throughout history. The most common methods are "parents," two or more Cybertronians making a new bot; Hot Spots; and Vector Sigma directly. Cybertronians grow through stages much like bugs during which they have to go through upgrades and shed bits of old armor. A majority of Cybertronians are raised in shared creches as groups, but mentors/parents are also common, especially in cases where new bots are requested directly from Vector Sigma or are made by their parents/mentors. The exact language used for describing guardians of young Cybertronians and nature of upbringing as well as more common methods vary across Cybertron and class.

The war that shook there planet was started for many reasons, but the rigid caste system enforced by both the government and the Primacy which were ostensibly separate created a boiling point that finally erupted over [major public incident].

Official Pairings: Oplita, June x Isaac

Current Poll: Elita's Mentee & Trigger for Civil War

Elita-1 & Starscream: Workshop & Results

Humanity Workshop

Potential Polls

*Updates as polls finish.

[tanuki-kimono]

Hello! I love your blog bc it helps me a lot with writing and crafting. Thank you so much for making it!

Are there any patterns that deal with poison? Either in the pattern or in the dyeing process?

Even if there's not I'm glad you and this blog exist 💗

(anon continues) Poison in the dyeing process, like when green dresses were dyed with copper arsenite and it was extremely deadly.

Or a pattern of someone being poisoned, like a historical/folktale.

_______________________________________

Thank you for your kind words <3 I tried to keep things organized but the subject is huge so my of the top of my head answer is going in many directions. I hope you'll still find what you need :3

I'll briefly cover here dyes and (pigments), poison motifs, real life and supernatural poisonings. Buckle up we've got a long post ahead!

____ ABOUT DYE

Tbh I had to think for a moment because I don't recall major "poison" stories linked to dyes in Japan, be it fictionous or real (yet that doesn't mean none ever happened, especially considering Japan's history of industrial poisonings...).

Most gruesome details in the fabric industries I know of are about the horrific life & work conditions of female laborers in spinning mill manufactures (as in many countries, Japan industrialization process was ghastly...).

If potters and dyers had excellent practical knowledge, chemistry as a science officially started kind of late in Japan as it was not a local interest, and as rangaku (study of Western knowledge) often favored other subjects like medicine or warfare.

So, until the introduction of aniline dyes (not textile related, but this article about the use of synthetic dyes in ukiyoe printing is super interesting), Japanese worked with "natural" dyes, like ai (indigo) which was the most used during Edo period.

As with any ingredient, being natural doesn't equal safety. Some mixtures could be quite potent/foul, and process could be dangerous. Plants and minerals base ingredients could be toxic (cinnabar and orpiments were then used as paint pigments, and lead could be found in make up), as were mordants used to set colors.

If you want to easily overview which ingredients were used to create colors, I recommand browsing [Irocore] which presents colors with explanation in English in their database (pick a color then scroll down).

Not related to poison, but ai (indigo) is traditionally prepared in aigame/enormous floor set jars I find utterly terrifying:

I don't know if this tidbit can help you, but some dyes and mordants actually damage the fabric overtime, leaving them brittle (silk desintegrates after a while which is a huge issue in textile conservation).

____ POISON MOTIFS

Concerning "poison" themed patterns, none would be actually used traditionally on a kimono or an obi beside novelty items ^^;

For example, many plants can be toxic, but I don't see them set as pattern for this property - they'd rather refer to a poem, be a symbol of the passing of seasons etc. Fuji (wisteria) can be quite harmful, yet it's a beloved traditional motif in Japan.

You have much more chances to find pattern with kujaku (peacock) which are thought to be impervious to poison in Buddhism, than say venomous mukade (centipede) or the horrific ômukade (a youkai I covered in a folktale).

Snakes like the habu and mamushi are dangerous, but if used as pattern snakes are most often auspicious and linked to rain dragons or goddess Benzaiten.

If you squint hard, toxic fugu could count as poison pattern, but such a seasonal delicacy as a motif would mostly underline wealth (as those fishes are pretty expensive as they are prepared by specialized chefs), a kind of carpe diem spirit, or just a fun pattern because fugu balloon shape is cute ;)

____ POISON MURDERS

Poisoning was certainly a thing is Japan since ancient times (see kodoku sorcery). Poisons were for example used in some fishing techniques.

I am pretty sure some kuge and buke were disposed of this way - even thought poison was seen as a coward weapon (hence why its supposed to be only used by shinobi/ninja - even if this "fact" is opened to a lot of discussions!).

During Edo period, such murders made up the news and penny dreadful-like illustrated books favored by city dwellers in need of a fright. But those stories didn't pass to posterity beside cheap ukiyoe plates, and were never as popular as some shinjû (double suicides) or ghost revenges like poor poisoned and murdered Oiwa's:

____ SUPERNATURAL POISONINGS

If your poison is both physical and metaphorical illbeing, mushi could be your guys ^^ This term actually covers everything small and crawling, from real worms and insects, to anything inside one's body causing distress - be it a parasite, an unknown illness, an overboard emotion, a curse etc. If you've read/seen Mushishi you've got what I mean:

In fact any illness-causing being could count as poison-bringer. Hôsôkami (smallpox demon) was truly feared by all before vaccination was introduced in Japan.

Finally, continuing the supernatural poisoning trail, best girl is probably legendary fox witch Tamamo no Mae who among other terrible deeds made emperor Konoe fall sick with poisonous miasma (some version of the story attributes the disease to another monster, the nue). I covered a similar murderous kitsune folktale here.

[greenpanda-basicfakewitch]

Spiritual Dieties

A/N: Just realised that I've included a list of god/esses BUT Christian will be excluded because theirs is too BIG, seraphims, archangels, and the names of who is what that is it's own seperate post -_- they're christian witches so even my own opinion of christianty (I don't hate them but dont love them either) I would still respect anyone who still follows it.

_________________________________________________________

Deities: 

Divine status, quality or nature. A god or Goddess, a supreme being. Most well known in Persian/Norse/Celtic/Greek/Roman/Egyptian/Hindu/Pagan/ Christian Angels-Demons, etc.

Celtic Gods:

Alator: God of war and protection, name means “he who nourishes the people.”

Albiorix: God of protection and war, name means “King of the world.”

Belenus: God of healing, name means “Bright one.”

Borvo: God of healing waters and minerals.

Bres: God of fertility, tyrant ruler

Cernunnos: Horned god of Nature, fertility, the underworld, wealth and fruit

Esus: God of strength and human sacrifice.

Lenus: God of healing, associated with Roman god Mars

Lugh: God of the sun and craftsmanship, justice and ruleship

Maponus: God of music, poetry and youth

Nuada: God of healing, the sea and warfare.

Celtic Goddesses:

 Brigantia: Goddess of rivers and waters, poetry and crafts

Brigit: Goddess of fire, fertility, healing, cattle and poetry

Ceridwen: Goddess and sorceress, poetic wisdom, prophecy, magic and rebirth.

Epona: Horse goddess, fertility and cornucopias, horses and mules

Medb: Goddess of sovereignty and motherhood

Morrigan: Goddess of seafarers, fertility, and abundance

Nemausicae: Mother goddess, fertility and prosperity

Saitada: Goddess of grief.

_______________________________________________________

Norse Deities:

 Gods:

Baldur: God of Beauty, peace, innocence, rebirth.

Bragi: God of Poetry, music, the harp

Hodr: God of Winter, Blind God, god of Darkness.

Hoenir: God of Silence, passion, spirituality, poetry

Kwasir: God of inspiration, god of wisdom.

Loki: God of trickery, mischief

Magni: God of strength and bravery

Njord: God Of the sea, wind, fish and wealth.

Odin: The allfather, God of war, poetry, magic and wisdom.

Thor: God of Thunder and battle, protection of mankind.

Try: God of War and Justice, god of skies

Ulr: God of skis and bows, god of winter.

Ali: God of revenge and vengeance.

Goddess:

Eir: Goddess of healing and medical skill.

Eostre: Goddess of spring and dawn.

Freyja: Goddess of love, fertility, battle and witchcraft

Frigg: Goddess of marriage and motherhood, Queen of the gods.

Gefjun: Goddess of fertility and plough, abundance and prosperity.

Hlin: Goddess of consolation and protection

Jord: Goddess of the Earth, Mother Earth.

Nanna: Goddess of joy, peace, and the moon.

Nott: Goddess of the night and darkness.

Sif: Goddess of the harvest, grain and earth

Sigyn: Goddess of fidelity, mercy and mourning.

Skadi: Goddess of Winter, mountains and skiing.

Sol: Goddess of the Sun and healing

Vor: Goddess of Wisdom, knowledge and awareness. 

Greek Goddess

Aphrodite

Hera

Athena

Artemis

Demeter

Hestia

Persephone

Gaia

Greek Gods:

Zeus

Hermes

Ares

Poseidon

Apollo

Hephaestus

Dionysus

Hades

Cronus

Eros

Helios

Atlas

Pan

Heracles

Prometheus

Uranus

______________________________________________________________

Roman Goddess Minerva

Venus

Ceres

Juno

Vesta

Diana

Janus

Bellona

Cybele

Fortuna

Victoria

Proserpina

Roman Gods

Apollo

Mars

Jupiter

Neptune

Mercury

Vulcan

Pluto

Saturn

Faunus

Flora

Pax

______________________________________________________________

Egyptian Gods/Goddess

Horus

Anubis

Osiris

Isis

Thoth

Set

Bastet

Hathor

Amun

Sekhmet

Nephthys

Ptah

Sobek

Ma'at

Geb

Nut

Shu

Ra

Bes

Tefnut

Khnum

Khepri

Khonsu

Neith

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Persian Gods/esses

Ahura Mazda

Angra Mainyu

Mithra

Anahita

Verethragna

Atar

Vohu Manah

Haurvatat

Mitra

Ameretat

Vayu

Zoroaster

Haoma

Rashnu

Spenta Armaiti

Indra

Aka Manah

Allani

Ahurani

Kshatra Vairya

Azhi Dahāka

Arash

Apam Napat

Fereydun

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Hindu Gods/esses

Shiva

Vishnu

Ganesha

Brahma

Hanuman

Krishna

Durga

Rama

Saraswati

Indra

Lakshmi

Kali

Kartikeya

Parvati

Agni

Surya

Varuna

Vayu

Chandra

Devi

Kamadeva

Sita

Kubera

Shakti

______________________________________________________________

What is similar?

One type of ‘Leader’ along with a ��Mother’ a ‘son’ or ‘Consort’ a god of death, healing, creativity, the Sun, the Moon, wisdom, mischief, fertility. Or some deities symbolise a couple of things based on their story. Or domain that they rule over. But most do have similarities or cross over to other religions. For example the Roman gods are just the Tumblr edgy oc’s of the Greek Gods. {And the Romans twisted greek stories but those stories is what we in modern day take as 'canon' }

“Our gods are stronger and better than yours!” ha, just kidding.

[scotianostra]

May 2nd 1860 saw the birth of physiologist John Scott Haldane in Edinburgh.

He attended Edinburgh University and the Friedrich Schiller University of Jena, before graduating in medicine at Edinburgh in 1884. He was then appointed Demonstrator in Physiology at University College, Dundee, where he investigated the composition of the air in dwellings and schools.

In 1887 he joined is uncle at Oxford University but later left when the title Professor of Physiology was denied him. His early studies included the respiration hazards that coal miners were exposed to, and his report emphasized the lethal effects of carbon monoxide poisoning. In 1898 he created the Haldane Gas Apparatus.

He began to study caisson disease in underground workers which connected to decompression sickness, also commonly known as "the bends." His work in this field lead him to produce the tables for staged decompression, which prevented the development of nitrogen bubbles in the diver's tissue as they ascended from their working depth.

Haldane's approach was in contrast to French physiologist Paul Bert's continuous - ascent decompression procedures of that period. Although developed for the trade of diving in 1907, the staged tables are equally applicable in the recreational and technical diving fields. Engineers sought his opinion on ventilation and respiratory issues when designing submarines, tunnels, mines and ships.

In 1915 Yale University honoured Haldane by selecting him to deliver the Silliman Lectures. The lectures became the basis for his 1922 book Respiration, which is recognised as a landmark work in the field. Haldane received numerous awards and honours for his work.

His work on high altitude physiology, diving physiology, oxygen therapy, and carbon monoxide poisoning led to a sea change in clinical medicine and improved safety and reduced mortality and morbidity in many high risk situations. During the First World War Haldane was able to identify the use of disabling chlorine and phosgene gas by the Germans, and designed the first gas masks for use in chemical warfare and also an oxygen therapy equipment to treat its victims.

John Scott Haldane died in Oxford on the night of 14 March/15 March 1936, soon after returning from a trip to investigate cases of heat stroke in the oil refineries in Persia, he made lasting contributions to improved working conditions years before health and safety itself became an industry, and he never failed to give credit to colleagues. He is considered as ‘Father of Oxygen Therapy’.

[odinsblog]

Executive summary

Since launching its brutal war of aggression against Ukraine in February 2022, the Russian Federation has been locked into a long and costly conflict. Russia has been diplomatically marginalized, subjected to sanctions, and shunned by most of the Western world. Many multinational companies have been forced by international pressure to shutter or sell their Russian operations, and profiting from cooperation with the Russian state is no longer considered acceptable. Russia has found itself in dire need of new allies and resources.

In this environment, the Kremlin-financed Private Military Company Wagner, or Wagner Group, has served as an increasingly important source of revenue for the Russian state. Founded in 2014 to support pro-Russian forces in Donbas, since then Wagner Group has evolved into a complex international network of private military contractors, disinformation campaign infrastruc-ture, and corporate front companies. It has deployed fighters, propaganda and disinformation campaigns, and financing as a proxy for the Russian state in numerous conflicts, from Syria and Libya to Mali, Central African Republic, and beyond

Wagner has most often been described as an independent mercenary group. This status has provided Russia with a thin veil of deniability, particularly in relation to the numerous plausible accusations of murder, rape, torture, and war crimes raised against Wagner fighters. But in reality, Wagner has always operated with the political and material backing of the Russian Federation to advance Russian state interests.

In Africa, Wagner has been deployed in a number of countries across the continent since 2017. In each country it enters, Wagner deploys military trainers, mercenary fighters, and propaganda experts to support anti-democratic regimes, drive instability, and commit human rights abuses. The mercenary group's ostensible provision of "security services" creates a framework for lucrative business contracts for the extraction of natural resources including diamonds, oil, timber, and especially gold.

This report focuses on the Kremlin's 'blood gold': Gold extracted from African countries and laundered into international markets that provides billions in revenue to the Russian state, thereby directly and indirectly financing Russia's war on Ukraine and global hybrid warfare infrastructure.

The Blood Gold Report's analysis suggests that Wagner and Russia have earned more than US$2.5 billion from blood gold since the full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. The report focuses on the case studies of Wagner's blood gold operations in the Central African Republic, Sudan, and Mali. In each of these coun-tries, Russia profits from the blood gold trade in different ways:

In CAR, the mercenary group has been granted exclusive extractive rights for the Ndassima mine, the country's largest gold mine, in return for propping up President Touadera's authoritarian regime. Wagner's Ndassima operations are understood to produce US$290 million of gold annually, while local miners have been pushed aside or murdered by the mercenary group.

In Sudan, through control of a major refinery, Wagner has become the dominant buyer of unprocessed Sudanese gold as well as a major smuggler of processed gold. Russian military transporter flights laden with gold have been identified by Sudanese customs officials. While tracking Sudan's unreported gold market is near impossible, estimates suggest that almost Us$2 billion in gold is smuggled out of the country unreported every year, with 'the Russian Company' in prime position to take advantage.

In Mali, Wagner is paid a monthly retainer - estimated at US $10.8 million per month - to prop up a brutal military junta Meanwhile the junta is in turn dependent on a small number of Western mining companies for the revenue it needs to pay Wagner. Mining companies contributed more than 50% of all tax revenues to the Malian state for 2022. Barrick Gold Corporation, a Canadian listed company and Mali's single biggest tax contributor, paid US$206 million in the first half of 2023 alone.

The junta is increasing its financial demands on gold mining companies. Meanwhile, the four largest gold mining companies (weighted by tax contribution) continue to plan further investments in the country, despite the well-documented abuses of the military junta and growing influence of the Wagner Group.

Wagner's blood gold operations in CAR and Sudan have been subject to sanctions, and the Kremlin-backed mercenaries have developed increasingly complex smuggling routes and corporate subterfuge tactics to move blood gold out of these countries and convert this gold into cash.

In contrast, the Malian blood gold system enables Wagner to remain one degree removed from gold production. Instead, legitimate multinational mining companies convert gold into cash for the Malian military junta without triggering international sanctions.

To secure its position in a target country's political and natural resource extraction landscape, Wagner's African playbook consists of a four-pronged attack on the host country's civic institutions and civilian population - suppressing political opposition, spreading disinformation, silencing free media and terrorising civilians.

The ultimate objective of Wagner's playbook is to increase its clients' dependence on Wagner forces to stay in power, thereby securing a long-term revenue stream for the Kremlin and fostering authoritarianism and instability throughout the region as part of Russia's wider geopolitical strategy to distract and bog down the democratic West.

Since the death of Wagner's leader Yevgeny Prigozhin, the mercenary group has formally come under the control of the Russian State. Yet the Kremlin's focus on Africa, and its blood gold operations, show no signs of changing.

(continue reading)

[gvtted-ratz]

>request/idea rules<

requests: open

>marvel<

anthony "tony" stark/iron man, peter benjamin parker/spider-man, wade wilson/deadpool, helmut zemo, james "bucky" barnes/winter soldier, matthew "matt" murdock/daredevil, franklin "foggy" nelson, frank castle/the punisher, william "billy" russo/jigsaw, miguel o'hara, spider-punk/hobart "hobie" brown (smatsv)

>horror/thriller<

slashers/antagonists

billy lenz (black christmas 1974), brahms heelshire, martin mathias (martin 1977), harry warden/the miner (og and remake), asa emory (the collector), jason voorhees (og and 2009 remake), michael myers (og and rz remake), lester sinclair (house of wax), vincent sinclair (house of wax), mark hoffman (saw 4/5), lawrance gordan (saw 2004), hannibal lecter (nbc hannibal), will graham (nbc hannibal)

final/”good” guys

arkin o'brien (the collector/the collection), nicholas "nick" henry jones (house of wax), peter strahm (saw 4/5), adam faulkner stanheight (saw 2004), david radford (saw 0.5)

>games<

error 143

micah yujin

john doe +

john doe

duskwood 

richy rogers, phil hawkins, jake "hakermen", thomas, daniel "dan" anderson

killer frequency

forrest nash, henry barrow

the price of flesh

machaete, thomas (tom), jackal (jack/dean), derek goffard, matt goffard, mason heiral, dragon (jace/jason), komodo (mike/michael), the announcer (fox/ren hana)

that's not my neighbour 

physicist/dr. w. afton, milkman/francis mosses, hoon (milkman doppelganger), scarlet milk (milkman doppleganger), pilot/steven rudboys, d.d.d agent (hazmat guy), teutates taranis, abducius morail, yog sothoth

studio investigrave games

rody lamoree, vincent charbonneau, protagonist, co-worker, normal guy, fake protag, fake co-worker

call of duty (+modern warfare 2)

könig, simon "ghost" riley, kyle "gaz" garrick, john "soap" mactavish, alejandro vargas, rodolfo "rudy" parra, gary "roach" sanderson

>tv/movies/web-series<

the batman (2022)

the riddler/edward nashton

 there will be blood (2007)

eli sunday

marble hornets (2009-2014)

masky/timothy "tim" wright, skully/jay merrick, alexander "alex" kralie, hoody/brian thomas

>will not do<

• incest

• suicide

• ddlg/ddlb

• scat/urine

• pregnancy

• heavy angst

• age regression

��� teacher/student

• sa/rape/non-con

• full smut/sex scenes

• illnesses/issues we're unfamiliar with (ask)

• underage/child anything (papa, uncle, child, etc. reader &/or character) - this includes childhood friend AUs

• fem reader (including pronouns/detailed anatomy due to high discomfort) - anything else is fine

> can/will do<

• fics (1k+)

• past abuse

• headcanons

• past self-harm

• drabbles (100-1k)

• alpha/beta/omega

• polyamory relationships

• blood, gore, violence, etc.

• anything soft, comfort, fluff

• aus (soulmate, cafe, bookstore, etc.)

• some ships/otps/rarepairs (feel free to ask)

• death of character/reader (character/reader kills the other)

• nearly any pronouns (including neos, just provide pronouns)

• male/masc, gender-neutral, nonbinary, trans male reader, inhuman reader (this includes monster, alien, divine etc.)

• "steamy" scenes/dub-con <- will be posted on ao3 ONLY (link will be provided for requests)