#peculiarities of the national hunt

[iloveboysinred]

I won't say I'm in love [Prince Zuko]

pg. 13, fluff | Zuko x gn! reader

synopsis; Zuko had never been one to express himself in the right ways, anger had always been his primary emotion. But, when he meets you, a rouge fire bender helping the Avatar, it becomes hard for him to accept the growing warmth in his chest every time you look at him.

cw; emotionally constipated Zuko, fluff, pining, Clueless Zuko, Zuko doesn’t know how to deal with feelings, awkward turtleduck, light fluff.

Masterlist

Zuko never had time to really sit and think about relationships. After spending his early teenage years on a wild goose chase hunting the avatar, and now having joined the Gaang, with only a week to teach Aang how to firebend so he could face Ozai, he had a lot going on.

However, when he had started to fit in with the gaang better, you had definitely caught his attention.

You were a firebender yourself, highly skilled and light on your feet. You made a formidable opponent in battle, your elegance and lightweight movements almost resembling an air-bender. Zuko couldn’t help but stare as you practiced basic maneuvers, your muscles flexing with every movement, the thin sheen of sweat on your brow, and the fierce look of concentration on your beautiful face. To say Zuko was whipped was an understatement.

You were the last to accept him into the group, having always been a bit of a loner and standoffish, you didnt trust him. Especially with him being the crown prince of the very nation that has caused you nothing but pain. So Zuko worked extra hard to earn your friendship. Doing good deeds like helping Sokka clean up camp, going on water collecting trips with Kitara, helping Toph with her hair, and of course, befriending Aang and teaching him firebending alongside you.

While Zuko was still miles away from getting close to you, he was running out of ideas on how to gain your approval. So, naturally he went to Sokka for advice.

“Its like no matter what i do, y/n still hates me! I dont get it, you guys all like me, you know i’m good now. So whats their problem?” Sokka looked over Zuko’s exasperated face, putting two and two together. Not that it was hard, everyone caught him staring at you like a creep once or twice already. “I dont think y/n hates you, honestly. Thats just the way they are. It took like, 2 months for them to really open up to us.” Sokka shrugged, smoothing his hair down. “If i’m being honest, you’re trying too hard. Seems like you got a thing for them.” Zuko gaped, staring at Sokka like he had grown another head. “What are you talking about!? I dont like them. I just want them to trust me!” But despite his words, the flush on his face betrayed his denial. Sokka raised his eyebrows. “Right. Okay. Why don’t you just talk to them? I mean, obviously what youre doing isnt working. Maybe you should get them a gift or something.” Zuko nodded to himself. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? He quickly stood up, a new objective in mind.

“Thanks Sokka.”

“Anytime, bro. And a word of advice, if you’re trying to make it less obvious that you like them, try not staring so hard. It creeps everyone out.”

“I TOLD YOU I DONT!”

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Get out before you burn my tent down.”

Zuko rolled his eyes, storming off with a deep flush on his cheeks.

The next morning he set out to the village nearby, wearing a cloak to disguise his face. He looked around the market, stopping by a jeweler, who had a whole array of different bracelets, necklaces, and rings. A peculiar necklace stood out to him. It held a beautiful ruby, plated in gold and held on to a thin, gold chain. Before anybody could see, he snatched it up, quickly leaving and heading back to the air temple before anybody could confront him. On the way back he stopped by a patch of fire-Lillies, picking a few to make a messy bouquet. “Y/n will like these.” He muttered to himself, trying to tie them together with an old piece of twine.

When he made his way back to camp, the others stared at him with questioning glances, momo crawling up to sniff at the flowers. “Whats with the flowers? You into gardening or something?” Sokka asked, eyeing the bright fire-lillies in his grasp. “I got these for Y/n” Zuko blushed as he realized how this looked, averting his eyes from Sokka’s teasing gaze. “Aww thats sweet, Zuko. Who knew you were such a softie.” Kitara cooed, fluttering her lashes in a mock swoon. Zuko gritted his teeth, cheeks burning hotter than the sun. “Yeah, maybe you’ll man up and confess. We all know you like them” Toph chided, smirking. “I don’t!” Zuko protested. “You’re lyinggg” Toph hummed, and Zuko cursed her abilities to see with her feet.

“Whats going on?” Zuko froze when he heard your voice, quickly turning towards you, hiding the bouquet behind his back. “Oh nothing, just teasing Zuko about his undying lo-“ Sokka was abruptly cut off by Zuko slapping his hand over his mouth, glaring at him. “What Sokka was trying to say is, we were teasing Zuko’s undying and super obvious crush on you.” Toph stated nonchalantly. The others snickered at Zuko’s panicked expression, his cheeks couldn’t have gotten hotter, wide eyes turned to you. “I dont know what they’re talking about! I don’t have a crush on you! They’re just trying to be funny i swear-“ “uh, Zuko-“ “I just want you to trust me, so i got you these flowers-“ he pulled the bouquet from behind him, presenting it to you. But what he didn’t realize was, he had accidentally set the lilies on fire. He gasped and dropped the bouquet, stomping on the charred flowers to put the fire out. You just gave him a blank look, the others snickering behind you. Zuko had never felt so embarrassed in his life.

“Wow Zuko, that sure was a good way to confess!” Kitara teased, watching as you just threw your hands up, being completely done with… whatever that was, and walking away to your tent. “Yeah Zuko. Maybe try not almost burning the camp down. I think Y/n will like it better if you just told them how you feel!” Aang chirped, just irritating Zuko more with his upbeat attitude. “Whatever, you guys are impossible” he snapped, storming off in a random direction. “And I told you i don’t like them!” Once he was out of earshot, Toph snickered, laying on her back against Appa’s side. “He’s lying again.”

For the rest of the day, Zuko avoided you at all costs. Leaving you to teach Aang by yourself, even sitting a considerable distance away from you during lunch. It was confusing you, but you didn’t say anything. You guessed he was still embarrassed from the spectacle he had made of himself that morning. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Zuko was sweet, and if what the others are saying is true, you couldn’t deny that you could start feeling something for him too. You’d observed him ever since he joined the group, and his surprisingly gentle heart had impressed you. You’d watched him teach Aang during your training sessions. Appreciating the way his body moved flawlessly, his dark hair bringing out the gold in his eyes. You had to admit, you weren’t complaining when he would show up to your lessons shirtless. There was no denying he was cute.

So, you decided to approach him, surprising even yourself. You waited for everyone to settle into their tents, then you made your way to his. You stood outside for a second, thinking about how you were going to start this, what you would say. But your thoughts blanked when Zuko crawled out of his tent, now face to face with you. “O-oh hi- Zuko- i, um” you stuttered, lost for words. His eyes widened at the sight of you, sputtering like a nervous wreck. “I just wanted to u-um say, t-that i think the flowers were beautiful and u-um that was very sweet of you” “o-oh” you stood in awkward silence, the ground suddenly very interesting. “Anyways i think i’m gonna go-“ “wait, i-i um, i got you this too.” He quickly handed you the necklace, eyes averting yours and a deep blush on his cheeks. You looked the piece of jewelry over, smiling at him. “It’s beautiful Zuko. Um, thank you?” “You’re uh, you’re welcome..” you don’t know what took over you, but you leaned forward pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. You stared at each other in shock, now it was your turn to blush, face as red as a tomato. “Uh well, its getting late- i’m gonna go back to my tent. G-goodnight” the words came out quicker than you could think, racing off back to your tent. Leaving Zuko standing there, hand on his cheek, feeling how warm the skin was under his palm. His brain short circuited and his heart was beating 400 miles per minute, he swore he was gonna pass out.

Hope you enjoyed :> notes and reblogs are appreciated, comments, asks, and requests are welcomed! 💗

part 2

[howtofightwrite]

I'm working on a monster apocalypse story. I've outlined how the monsters emerged and spread throughout the world, as well as the abilities some humans developed to combat them: physical, mental, and therapeutic powers. I also have ideas about the strength and intelligence of the monsters, including some rare unranked ones. The story includes four main powers - Companies, Government, Agencies, and Hunters. However, I'm stuck on how these powers will fight the monsters, how society will evolve, and how to allocate power among the four main groups, especially considering the presence of illegal agencies and hunters.

There's a few slightly goofy things here. Don't take this too harshly, and I suspect this is a translation issue, but “therapeutic,” is probably not the term you wanted. It sounds like, “I hunt monsters through the power of unlicensed chiropractic adjustments.” You may have meant pharmacological powers, as in characters who are chemically enhanced via drugs.

There's also a little bit a weirdness in terminology here, there's three categories of powers (physical, mental, and whatever augmentation you meant), and there's also four categories of powers.

There's a very basic rule of writing, where you don't want to reuse the same word multiple times in a sentence. Except, that also extrapolates out to larger contexts like this. Now, a “power,” can refer to anything from electrical energy, a paranormal ability, or a faction, up to deities. But, if you're going to use a term like this (at least in your world building) you probably want to use it in one specific way. So, for example, you might want to say characters have three broad categories of abilities, and belong to one of four factions.

This kind of word choice can also be very helpful for establishing tone. Consider for a moment how differently it reads if you have a setting “where characters are augmented in different ways, and then work for various powers in their world,” versus one “where characters gain various supernatural abilities and then work for various conspiracies.” Not much changed in the text itself, but the kind of world you're likely to build from that core statement will be radically different.

Now, using the same terms for both is a viable choice, and also has implications. Primarily that those powers derive directly from the powers your characters work for. In that case you would probably want to have a direct 1:1 mapping of abilities to factions. For example, the corporations augment characters (cybernetically, pharmaceutically, or however else), the agencies train psychic powers, the governments provide better tech and support, while the hunters... do something.

Another problem I see up front is a lack of specificity. There are over 200 governments in the world today, with radically different philosophies and approaches to problem solving. So, lumping all of them together under a single banner is peculiar.

Governments depend to be distinct entities from one another, (at least if we're ignoring the specific edge case of puppet governments.) How they interact with one another will reflect their shared and exclusive history with one another. This creates a complex and varied tapestry that is an absolute goldmine for worldbuilding. International relations shapes the world in a way few other things can compete with.

Similarly, “companies,” is incredibly vague. I can make some educated guesses, but it doesn't really tell me anything. Are these private mercenary bands, the military remnants of fallen nations, megacorporations, or something entirely different? Again, the real question you'd need to ask yourself is, “who are these companies?” They're not a monolithic, unified force. In the world before, they were probably in direct competition with each other, and that may have persisted into the apocalypse. Depending on the nature of the story you're trying to tell, is this going to be another case where you have some factions trying to ally with, or use the monsters for themselves? By, “therapeutic,” do you mean that some of these corporations are trying to graft monster parts onto their own loyal subjects, or looking for means to mind control the monsters, turning them into a domesticated combat force, loyal to them?

Agencies is probably one of the hardest to lock down, because that can refer to either a private or public organization. So this is either part of the companies or part of the governments. Unless the intent was to indicate that these were some kind of separate group, like a foundation, or even a guild.

I'm assuming with hunters, you mean freelance hunters. Because, anyone hunting monsters for any of the above groups could be considered, “a hunter,” but this one isn't a big deal.

So what do you do? You probably want to start with the specifics. You might have a general thought, like what you're describing at the top, but ultimately, that's a very brief stepping stone. You'd sketch that out, and then immediately flip over to detailing the various factions and kinds of characters in more depth. You don't necessarily need to have much detail when you're getting started with your story, but you should be able to, at least, name off most of the major factions that you know are important, and how they interact (with each other, and also with the story.)

A lot of world building lives or dies on how well your various factions interact with each other to create a credible gestalt.

-Starke

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[maaarshieee]

IT HAS BEEN AWHILE HWWKNSHE HOW ARE UUU?

anw! here's a fluff drabble >.<

accompanying dottore to his little exploration seemed a great idea for you. it would be a simple date, trying to find plants that he needed for an experiment. you weren't that athletic and you get pretty tired easily. so during your hangout, you were breathing really deep and like almost out of breath.

dottore knew that you would be tired, so he made sure to bring ready-to-eat meals and a blanket if you wanted to sleep. he also thought that this would kind of be date so he permitted you to come. with no enemies that can attack you both, no guards that will follow the two of you, nor any other priorities except you and the plant.

so dottore searched for a place where you can both sit and eat for awhile. reminisce about the memories you made throughout your relationship. these little peaceful moments with him are rare, so you take the opportunity to give him all the love he deserves aka lots of hugs and kisses, plus words that show how much you love him, and taking pictures using the kamera he bought for you.

the both of you definitely took your time and forgot the plant.

-weekly anon (im def turning into a weekly anon)

⎯⎯ ୨ Moments Like These ୧ ⎯⎯

ੈ♡˳ Il Dottore x Gn!Reader *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ 1.1k words ┊ Fluff *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ Masterlist *ೃ༄

author's note ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

OMG FINALLY BACK TO WRITING... hi weekly anon,, missing you <3 hope you had a nice holiday and new years! sorry it took so long to write this but my motivation is slowly coming back! anyways. soft dottore 🥺also its so weird to not have warnings on dottore fics... have a good day/night!! WAIT IS THIS A REQUST. I MIGHTVE INTERPRETED THIS WRONG BUT WHATEVER HAVE THIS LMAO IM SORRY

If you had half the mind to actually listen carefully to his words, you would've thought it was very very peculiar for Dottore to invite you to hunt for a particularly rare plant he needed for his experiment. And if you weren't blinded by your giddiness to spend more time with him, especially when Dottore himself asked you, you would've found it odd that he would go out to fetch this plant himself and not assign a segment for such a trivial task. It wasn't an urgent need either, it seemed like an excuse to dismiss every other responsibility he has as a Fatui, ignore his unfinished projects and take you out somewhere nice because he simply wanted to.

But you were too excited, too delighted that the Archons had given you a chance to be with your lover. Well, you're technically always with him, being his annoying little assistant in his chaotic laboratory, but being with him in a different region? Now that's quite a thrilling thought! When was the last time the two of you went outside together? Somewhere that wasn't Snezhnaya? You were getting tired of seeing the endless white of the frozen nation, so traveling to a nation filled with greenery and without a lick of snow? You couldn't help but start nagging Dottore to leave sooner, unable to contain your evident eagerness.

Perhaps in midst of your excitement, you hadn't noticed that Dottore never once gave you an irritated glance even if you insistently nagged him to no end. Rather, his features would soften behind his mask, and a small smile would stretch his lips, watching you ramble on and on about what you've read about Sumeru and possible locations where the plant he required could be.

You weren't slow, no, you're far from it. You help in the laboratory and graduated from the Akademiya, then worked in the Fatui to share your knowledge with the Doctor and help him achieve goals that were thought impossible. But for some reason, you couldn't catch on Dottore's true intentions, too distracted, too elated to detect the strange amount of fondness radiating from his form whilst he held onto a basket full of food and necessities, just for you. Only for you.

So when you inevitably got tired from walking, muttering curses under your breath and holding onto Dottore's outstretched arm while you tried to calm your pacing heart, he immediately looked around for a better spot to rest. Dottore can't get tired, not anymore, so he could keep on going without you. But who was he to leave his dear lover alone? Where they can get attacked by anything at their moment of weakness? Absolutely not. Besides, he planned on staying with you until the end of the day, the plant was the least of his worries. Plus, he gets to enjoy your bewildered expressions once you've finally caught your breath and turned your head where Dottore was.

"I... What's all this??" You asked incredulously, tilting your head to the side in confusion to see Dottore sitting down on a blanket he laid out on the ground. Your favorite foods, pastries, and drinks were present on the blanket, which made it look like a normal picnic. "Come and sit, you need rest." His reply left you speechless, blinking at him multiple times as if he wasn't real but you obeyed nonetheless, walking toward him in a daze and taking a comfortable seat right next to him.

Allowing him to wipe away the sweat that formed all over your face and neck with a clean piece of cloth, you could see a small amused smirk on his lips, sharp teeth poking out. You pursed your lips in thought, his hands gentle and cautious as they made their way downwards. It was rare for Dottore to be so... pleasant for once? Grabbing the hem of your shirt, you absentmindedly raised your arms and he pulled it off, then proceeded to wipe off the sweat on your chest and back. Warmth spread throughout your skin, from the tip of your ears down to your bare shoulders, glancing around nervously. No one would be around these parts, especially when the two of you were searching for something that was so rare it was considered a myth, so not a soul would probably be wandering around the area you were in. Though, all your nervousness faded away when Dottore pinched your nose, your attention snapping back towards him as you huffed, swatting his hands away. The corners of his lips twitched, and that was when it clicked.

"Oh," You started, glancing back at the prepared meals on the blanket for you to eat, another bundle of blankets and a pillow inside the basket, and even a Kamera he had bought at some point before entering the forest when you both first arrived at Sumeru, "This was your plan all along, huh?" The corners of your eyes crinkled as a huge grin slowly formed on your face, eyes filled with mirth and, undoubtedly, tenderness at his thoughtfulness. You were extremely touched, it wasn't often Dottore did something like this, especially outside of his lab.

Dottore's hand froze and tensed. While he had expected you to catch on sooner or later to his intentions, it still surprised him when you spoke those words. Yes, he indeed did this all for you. But no matter how much Dottore loves you, it would take a lot more for him to admit such things to you, especially when you were looking at him funny with a smug expression on your face. The grip he had on the now sweaty cloth he had in his hand tightened as he put it away. "Awww, who knew you could be so romantic?" And you just had to run your mouth, "You could've just told me you wanted to have a picnic with me, dear! Did you have to use a 'rare plant' as an excu— oof!" Before you could finish your sentence, something soft hit your face, catching you off guard.

It was a clean shirt that you wore without hesitation, but once your head poked out, his hands immediately attacked your cheeks, pinching and stretching with a scowl on his face. Grabbing his wrist as you groaned, you shot him an unimpressed glare, cursing him, and tried to pull his hands away from your poor cheeks. "Hey! Don't avoid the subject— eek!" You suddenly squealed, then burst out laughing as he began to poke your sides, ultimately rendering you helpless. "What are you talking about, dearest?" Dottore finally spoke with a purr, a smirk returning on his lips. "I'm not avoiding anything."

And as you wriggled in his grasp, Dottore couldn't help but pull you closer to him, watching as tears formed in your eyes from how hard you were laughing, and the way the curves of your face stretched and wrinkled from how big you were smiling. From the cold, hollow chest, he felt warmth. Fullness. Happiness.

A feeling he could only truly feel with you.

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[callmearcturus]

Mission Impossible: a Crazed Ramble by tentacledwizard

Re my mission impossible ask: gonna share my thoughts bc I just finished watching the series (sans 2 and 3) and boy do I have Thoughts. I think I’ll cover the ones I’m most interested in (Ghost Protocol, Rogue Nation, and Fallout) though I might ramble at u about 1 and 7 later lmao. So okay here we go

Ghost Protocol. I REALLY liked this one. This is 2nd on my ranking of MI movies.

This movie has the best team vibes. Might be my favorite iteration of The Team, even if Luther isn’t really there. I just got really emotionally attached to these guys and their interactions lmao..

I liked Brandt. Jeremy Renner didn’t have to do some heavy-duty acting for this role, and he didn’t. His role was to be small and cute and tormented, and it worked. So well that I mumbled “where is my wife” when I watched Fallout, and my brother looked at me strangely. 

Jane Carter holy moly. Dude you were NOT kidding about Jane Carter. I love her so much. I love how she’s not even slightly the love interest, how her and Ethan’s interactions have this respect and camaraderie, and even when they kiss it’s not romantic. It’s great. Loved how she got the dudely “gotta avenge my dead wife” backstory with her boyfriend getting killed, and how that propels her most ruthless actions. I guess I’m pretty much agreeing with everything you’ve said about Jane lmao. SHE’S GREAT. Also loved it when she fought Léa Seydoux, it was pretty cathartic. Let female characters be driven and reckless and (eyes Rose Lalonde pfp) yeah

Benji Dunn the man that you are. Okay I’d say that Benji is at his best in the next movie, but this is a damn good introduction. He’s newly promoted, a little bit out of his depth, and I’m a sucker for funny nerdy sidekicks okay. Gonna talk about him some more when I get to Rogue Nation probably.

Ethan Hunt has the best haircut in this film. Idk man that’s my Ethan Hunt commentary. Oh wait it was also funny when he wore the mustache

I GOT ALL FLUSTERED WHEN LÉA SEYDOUX WAS ON SCREEN. I DON'T KNOW WHY THIS IS. HOW PECULIAR

Didn’t watch 2 and 3, so the brief glimpse of Julia was very intriguing and bittersweet. Then of course in Fallout she Julias all over the place!

OKAY NOW I CAN TALK ABOUT THE BURJ KHALIFA

I’ve actually seen the Burj Khalifa irl and it is SO TALL (I know, very surprising) so I cannot wrap my head around the fact that this scene was shot on location (??) I need to look into that more.

I am a dork and I do not know much about how stunts and action scenes are calibrated, hence the sheer delight I derived from the way the camera moves in the Burj Khalifa scenes. Also my hands got really sweaty during the first half. (The “blue is glue, red is dead” part reminded me of “hasta lasagna don’t get any on ya” IDK MAN)

I spent the wall-climbing section gazing at the TV rapturously and occasionally mumbling “uh oh,” “Ethan Hunt: Human Gecko” or “the climberrrr” alternately. I literally was not hearing myself because I was watching so intently. My breath was BATED lmao.

And like I’d seen the gif sets, I knew he was gonna jump but I didn’t know when. So when Ethan does jump, it’s so sudden that you can’t help but go :O !! And it works. Anddd that’s my favorite stunt in the film (i am an easily impressed nerd with no technical knowledge but i AM dying on this hill. The Burj jump would impress ANYONE and for good reason)

I am replaying this scene in my head over and over. It’s just. It’s so good. My reaction to it reminded me of when I watched [S] Descend and it just Worked and I was amazed. To say nothing of Cascade lmao. Actually yeah this kind of is Cascade in a sense

I'm sure none of this commentary  is really original, but I really love it when Tom Cruise does a big jump heh. I am a simple man

So yeah this film is easily my 2nd favorite. It’s character-driven, there’s comedy elements, the way the team interacts and collides and argues with each other is wonderful. And I believe in Jane Carter supremacy.  

Oh yeah, Bogdan was funny too. So many good + funny moments here :D

Wait how could I forget the best character (the Russian man who has an enemies-to-friends arc with Ethan)? Love that guy.

OKAY this is too long so Im gonna separate this into 2 parts.

they sent three asks and then I responded, we're gonna use a cut here, LONG POST!!!!!

@tentacledwizard PART 2.

Rogue Nation. This one’s my favorite! I like how it begins not with Ethan but with the Team, because their interactions are good. And of course Ethan’s trying to jump on a plane. Just another Saturday.

I am not very good at talking about plot so let’s talk about Benji Dunn

ok wait first I gotta say that I like how they played with the usual IMF message. The “we ARE the syndicate” got me. Really good moment, and I bet if I rewatched it I’d catch all the little details that made me suspicious of whoever was talking. 

Anyway Benji Dunn.. the man that you are…

Like I said, Benji is at his best in this movie. There’s so many little moments that cement his greatness. He’s gaming on company time! He lies about not being Ethan’s friend on a daily basis :( also the sincere dorky smile he does on his way to the opera is so wonderful. 

I really like how sincere Benji is. He’s genuinely looking forward to the opera, and he’s eager to wear a mask someday, and he cares about Ethan so much. Yeah he’s a funny little British man but he’s also v sweet and you can see why Ethan goes crazy and kidnaps the prime minister to get him back. 

speaking of, I really think that Benji and Ethan’s relationship is… if not the core of the movie, it’s definitely a major part of that core. Does that make sense? Like, I tried to take a picture of the screen every time Ethan and Benji glanced at each other knowingly, and I ended up with a lot of pictures. Even with the 6-month separation (Ethan with a beard is something I never thought I’d see), they know each other. Ethan knows Benji wants to see the opera, and Benji will yell at Ethan when Ethan needs to be yelled at. Ethan compliments Benji’s tuxedo (as he should).

Also ffffuck whenever these guys worry about each other… like when Benji tells Ethan he’s probably going to take it too far one of these days.. Man. The scene where Ethan washes out of the giant torus with Ilsa and Benji goes to talk to him is so good.

oh and yeah Ethan did kidnap the prime minister. For benji. HE DID THAT!!!

Also the scene where Benji is forced to speak for Solomon was honestly incredible, it was like Ethan and Benji were having their own separate conversation with eye contact. When Ethan briefly put his hand on Benji’s shoulder, maybe to reassure him without having to talk, and Benji glances up at him… that’s good stuff right there. When Benji was finally able to talk it was cathartic. God I love these two

Plus the opera fight scene is so fun oh my god.

ok let’s talk about my queen Ilsa Faust

Ilsa Faust is great, and I really like how this series does female characters. Because she has her own shit going on, there’s a bit of romance between her and Ethan but they’re both agents with missions, and she’s never sexualized. I love that. Her signature move is filmed the way a male character would be filmed if he were fighting. That’s awesome.

I really loved Rebecca Ferguson’s performance here, the conflict between saving others and saving herself was neat. It’s also interesting how she has way less reservations about killing people, which plays off Ethan’s… everything. And she never makes it easy for Ethan, which I’d honestly do too if I was involved in the shit she has to deal with. 

But of course there are moments that show she does care about him (asking him to run away, the scene where she saves him in the underwater whirly spinner). The hug was pretty sweet.

Also, Ilsa is when I started really paying attention to the outfits in MI, because all of her looks were great. The yellow dress is iconic, and I REALLY liked the pleated coat she wears when talking to Solomon Lane. Plus the suit she wears in Fallout is Good.

Solomon Lane is a good villain. Jim is the MI villain I think of when I think of MI villains, but Solomon is very distinctive. I mean that voice, man. The VOICE. Lmao. He kind of reminded me of a parasitic worm made human, which is a 100% good thing.

So who has the more distinctive and weird voice? Solomon or Claire? That is the question. (I think it’s Claire tbh. Four am, four in the morning, four o clock)

So this is my favorite MI film. It’s fun, it has a good villain. We see Ethan’s personality start to shine through, too- he’s emotionally driven, as evidenced by when he fucking DOES ALL THAT TO SAVE BENJI GOD I LOVE THESE TWO. So yeah, this is the Ethan and Benji movie to me. It’s also a stellar debut for Ilsa Faust… wait what do you mean she gets fridged in the 7th movie. What do you mean

OH Jeremy Renner is still here! And more Luther! Hell yeah.

really want to rewatch this one so I can take more notes on the stunts and stuff, too

Ok time to make a part 3 because this is ridiculously long

PART 3

Fallout. Oh man. This one messed me up. 

So from the start, Fallout is a darker, queasier watch than the previous two. The more I watched, the more I realized that this movie Is Ethan Hunt’s Nightmare.

Like there’s the straightforward nightmare at the beginning, and then the film just Doesn’t Stop. It keeps messing with our minds again and again. 

This is the Ethan Hunt movie. This is our deep dive into Ethan Hunt’s mind, and at some points it kind of feels like a test of how well we know him- because he wouldn’t kill all those people, so this must be another nightmare, right? 

I am used to vivid nightmares, and this film perfectly captures the sheer horror of having one. And I was constantly doubting my own perception, bouncing between bad dream and reality along with Ethan. Man.

Like Mission Impossible has always kind of had that element, what with the masks and everything, but this film dials it up to eleven. I recognized the horror of Ethan’s situation here, and it was a feeling that stayed with me the entire time.

I mean at some points, it gets surreal. The line about Ethan literally being his own worst enemy (it’s true!), his wife showing up in little glimpses until she finally appears, Lane pinpointing Ethan’s fears, etc. When Ethan looks around at the church and says he’s terribly sorry, it’s such a small moment but it’s still kind of a gut punch. Ethan Hunt is trapped in his brain and so are we.

Even the title sequence shows everything burning around Ethan. The full theme song sounds like it’s going to end, but then it keeps going. This movie feels way more apocalyptic than any of the others.

Even Max is dead. I mean come on.

And we see how this screws up Ethan’s judgment, how his priorities are a little fucked in the grand scheme of things. He puts a few people over millions, for better or for worse.

Ethan Hunt running is an iconic part of the franchise, but what happens when all the messed-up stuff he went through catches up with him? What about the fallout?

So when the ending rolls around, it feels like Ethan is waking up, and that lends it a certain catharsis. But the uneasiness of most of the movie still stuck with me for a long time afterward.

Okay let’s talk about the new characters.

Alanna was neat, and I liked her outfits too. Though every time she flirted with Ethan, I had this vivid mental image of Ethan driving up and yelling “I fucked your mom, shit lips!” Probably something he’d say to Zola instead though.

Walker was such an asshole and that was kind of great actually. Not a single redeeming quality to be found. Have fun falling off that cliff, johnny boy.

Oh yeah and he got to say the only “fuck” in the entire series I believe. (It should have been Ethan. Well I can always hope.)

That conversation Ethan and Benji have about how Ethan won’t let anything happen to him, but then later Ethan does something that seems to put Benji in danger (making him be Solomon Lane)? Chef’s kiss. Also Benji FINALLY got to wear the mask, and he’s damn good at it.

More of Ilsa and Ethan’s relationship and man is it complicated haha. I like the scene where they’re walking through a symmetrical landscape, just paralleling each other, until finally they’re face to face. That’s good stuff right there. Also the scene where he’s in the hospital bed was sweet.

My wife [Brandt] is not here but luckily we get a lot of Luther. Luther is the constant in this series- he’s stuck with Ethan from the beginning, for better or for worse. (Better, because he’s a good character). So Luther really cares about Ethan, evidenced by his conversation with Ilsa. He probably knows Ethan better than anyone, except maybe Julia but then again she and Ethan have been apart for a while. 

Julia was great. The scenes with her and Ethan were v bittersweet. They still care about each other (just look at Ethan’s constant guilt over not protecting her), but she’s living her own life now. The conversation they had near the end was the culmination of all this, the moment we were waiting for. Plus I enjoyed her friendship with Luther, like I enjoyed Ilsa and Benji’s friendship. The scene where they’re cutting the wires/talking about Ethan was cute.

as for the stunts, hmm… I didn't really get the level of physicality I got from, say, MI1 or Ghost Protocol. Idk man maybe I’m just biased against helicopters?

ALSO I really like Face/Off and Hit Man so the John Lark thing was p cool to me. Ofc John was the asshole CIA agent though.

Anyway good movie, might take some time before I can rewatch it but it’s a masterful delve into Ethan Hunt’s mind. Not my favorite but also really really good and I wrote the most about it.

Conclusion. Wow that’s a lot of thoughts. Probably too many to put in one ask. Uh I kind of also want to talk about MI1 and Dead Reckoning as an echo of MI1 but this was a lot so idk if you’d want me to do that lmao. Anyway I have to thank you for convincing me to watch Mission Impossible all those months ago, because it is one of my obsessions now. (If you read all this I am sorry lmao, hope it wasn’t boring tho) 

And now I can finally read your Benthan fic! 8D hell yeah.

okay now it is my turn to reply

I frankly adore Brandt. I've joked to Brandt that I don't really ship Benthan, I just use it as a vehicle to write William Brandt and have him tell jokes. I adore his angry little bureaucratic ass. I am actually a fan of Renner when the material gives him actual shit he can do. Like, he was fucking WASTED in the MCU and the "Hawkeye" miniseries proves he could have been having fun this entire fucking time but they never GAVE him anything. And even if his role in MI is simple, McQuarrie is so damn good at writing characters that Brandt feels vibrant. In GP he goes from sad sweater boy to lowkey the weakest link of the team but everyone is there to help him. And in RN there's a THOUSAND lil moments I love with him. I always point to Benji's interrogation scene, there's a VERY VERY PRECISE bit of editing where Benji is going off on a tirade about how the CIA sucks, and the camera lingers on Brandt LITERALLY JUST LONG ENOUGH for Renner's mouth to make this tiny microexpression, like TWO FRAMES of Brandt indulging in admiring Benji's lie-craft.

Also the argument in the bigass car with Luther was Renner improvising according to McQ. Love it. Brandt's my angry little pencil-pushing angel. Any time he shows up in the PT AU, I'm 😍😍😍

GP lives and dies on the team dynamic tbh, which I find hilarious bc imo MI3 was pronounced dead on arrival bc the team dynamic is non-existent and like, why am I even here???? the chemistry is truly batshit.

IF YOU WOULD LIKE ALL THE TRULY MIND-BOGGLING FACTS BEHIND THE BURJ CLIMB AND HOW TERRIFYINGLY PRACTICAL IT WAS check out this post

Also Ethan's gorgeous LEAP at the end of the sequence is my second-fave Physicality Moment in that movie. The first is of course Ethan's silent vault over the railing after he leaves his prison cell. I'm a slut.

and I bet if I rewatched it I’d catch all the little details that made me suspicious of whoever was talking.

oh you want a fun one? in the record shop, there are two listening booths. ethan goes into the one on the left.

Solomon Lane is sitting in the one on the right.

re: Benji in Rogue Nation, I mean McQuarrie himself has said Simon Pegg as Benji Dunn is the beating heart and soul of the Mission franchise. so don't worry, we ALL stan.

ILSA FUCKING FAUST. /fans face. Yeah, the way MI handles women is like… I don't know how to go back to, like, James Bond films. I keep remembering Skyfall (which I remember as a good movie) and how one of the ~bond girls~ is casually executed and the whole point is how unfazed everyone is, how DISPOSABLE she is, how James Bond as a franchise wants backpats for pointing out "man it sure sucks how disposable women are in these spy flicks huh"

smash cut to Ghost Protocol, Rogue Nation, Fallout, and ESPECIALLY Dead Reckoning.

I keep saying this but MI manages to pull off the Metal Gear thing in that the Male Gaze of the camera is thoroughly bisexual. Long before we see Ilsa's amazing leg shot at the opera, we get a long lingering shot of Ethan's tiddies, and the way he's held captive is very female-coded, the position, the way he tries to wile his way out of it, the barefoot thing, all of it. There's such intense intentionality with how MI frames bodies.

Hell, I've been flicking between MI and the X-Men AU movies and comparing Ilsa to Mystique is super interesting because both of them fight with their legs-first. But the choreography of Mystique always has this "heh heh heh naked legg" feeling, while with Ilsa, her fighting style is so consistent, it feels like a natural result of her build and how she utilizes momentum. I remember there's a fast moment in Fallout where she very casually assists Ethan by taking out a guard as he extracts Alanna, and she does her leg flip thing. It feels Correct for her, rather than the MCU "make sure you fight pretty" bullshit.

Anyway I love Ilsa but Benji is actually the Love Interest in RN and we all know it.

"wait what do you mean she gets fridged in the 7th movie" SHE DOES NOT GET FRIDGED i am gonna die on this fucking hill, that Ilsa's death was good and actually meant something

Anyway I cosign all your thoughts on Fallout. I think it's the best movie and frankly I think it's a cinematic masterpiece. The claustrophobia of it, the nightmare of being Ethan Hunt, the repeated use of dreamlike imagery to convey that we're falling further into that nightmare with him, AND THE ENDING. I find the ending so bittersweet because yes, Ethan and the team pull it off, they push at the edges of possibility and reason until the universe yields and gives them the win

but then Julia says "I know you'll always be there" and its like watching a door slam in Ethan's face. He's always going to be in this dream/nightmare, a world that exists one layer removed from reality, and he can't get out. It's amazing. I want to kiss McQ on the mouth.

That Ilsa-Ethan scene was not in the original script and TC suggested it day-of and they just did it and its one of the most beautiful shots of the movie, with the green trees melding with the slight green tones of Ilsa's outfit and with Ethan's eyes. The fact they have an entire conversation between Ethan and Ilsa's eyebrows. I love them.

[theoutcastrogue]

Terry Jones’ Medieval Lives Episode 7: The Outlaw

Outside the law

“We like to think of the story of the outlaw as a black and white tale of goodies and baddies. The reality was less clear cut. During the Middle Ages the very notion of what an outlaw was changed dramatically and so did the legal system the outlaws sought to avoid.

In Anglo-saxon England, people had been accustomed to administering the law themselves, a sort of neighborhood watch. But with this big difference - you could make money out of it. You see, the Anglo-saxons weren’t particularly bothered about punishments. What interested them was victim compensation.”

“Back then to be declared an outlaw was a fearful thing indeed. People then lived in small, self-regulating communities, and to be excluded was like being sent into exile. Worse, an outlaw was a wolf’s head, someone who could be killed on sight. They were forced to live a life on the run, outside normal society.

But in 1066, England became an occupied nation. A legal system that depended on the cooperation of the conquered with their conquerors was simply not going to work. So the Normans introduced certain legal refinements such as collective punishment and trial by battle.”

“If that was Norman justice, the Normans could keep it. Well, that’s what many Anglo-saxons seemed to think. And they chose to be outlawed rather than stand trial. By 1150 the whole legal system had collapsed so Henry II totally reinvented it, developing a legal process unique to England which put power back in the hands of the local community. Trial by jury.”

“With people rushing to court to sue each other [even] over hedge clippings, more and more people were failing to turn up to trial and consequently being outlawed for non-attendance. By the mid-14th century, almost everybody seems to get outlawed at some point in their lives. It was no big deal. It was a bit like having your credit card refused.”

Into the forest

“A forest was simply wherever Forest Law applied. It was policed by an army of royal officials who ruthlessly enforced the draconian penalties for poaching imposed by the king. Richard I set the penalty for killing deer as removal of eyes and testicles. In lots of ways the deer of the forest had more rights and privileges than the locals who lived around it.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons why the Robin Hood stories were so popular. They celebrated a time before the conquest when the forests were a place of freedom. Since the Normans, the forest has become a place of repression and brutal punishment. But once people had been free to hunt and gather wood here and that was never forgotten.”

“The story of Robin Hood wove together the myth of pre-conquest freedom together with the later myths of chivalry and knighthood. The English actually celebrated being a land of bold robbers.”

The Rogue adds: The episode also tackles: prisons, sanctuary, litigiousness, execution methods, and the complicated relation between gentry, robbers and knights (in any combination). The whole series is hilarious, and mostly accurate. I’m also very fond of the Knight episode.

My only comment is that celebrating your bold robbers is hardly an English peculiarity. And while outlaws’ legends are often influenced by a warrior culture of some sort, said warrior culture need not be chivalry. This is a widespread phenomenon that can be found in all corners of the earth, from China (Water Margin) to Brazil (cangaceiros) to Australia (bushrangers) to the Balkans (hajduks/klephts and so on) to right next door (rapparees).

[babulekbabayaga]

My girl, still thinking about her... I need to write her. Here's some lore about her.

The Dreaded Soul: Vuk Ókiv

LORE

Born in an unnamed, rural, village in Bohemia on April 30th 1921 to Mikhail Ókiv, a hunter, and his wife Morana Bashenska, who died in childbirth, Vuk’s life wasn’t one of many joys and peculiarities outside of the accompanying forests and fields of flowers that only come by in the springs and summers, exposed to the effects that the first Great War had on her nation and her father’s approach to life. Luxuries were often limited and if not, almost non-existent, despite that, the village girl had a hopeful outlook on life.

As a child, she was considered by many in the village as a quiet tomboy who was also assertive in her beliefs and didn't hesitate to call out the inadequacies of others, she was a confident individual, just too calm to have the ability to bark at others. She was a competitive girl in athletic sports and always around to lend a hand in physical chores. So outgoing she was, she joined a shooting club where she became an amateur sharpshooter and for her developing talent, was rewarded a sharpshooter badge and marksman certificate.

Raised in a village that still follows traditions and the old religion unlike the towns and cities, Vuk was brought up in a religious environment with the followers of Ziej'anad, the old god of hope and order, whom the people, and the nation used to back then, worship and plead to bring order back to a world that had seemed to be neglected ever since the absence. Vuk was particularly praised as the possible incarnation of the god since birth because the local priest mentioned how she was born the day all the planets were aligned perfectly, for them, it was a sign.

Throughout Vuk’s early upbringing, she was taught that she was the symbol of hope for this nation and she took the symbolism seriously—dedicating herself to every good charitable work that was available for volunteers, sabotaging her self-interests for the validation of others, especially the adults and elders. She tried to look up to the image of Ziej'anad, reading every scripture of his ways and bringing offerings to an altar of him she had in the corner of her cramped bedroom where she’d routinely pray. Her entire existence when she was a youth purely revolves around him and nothing else. She was not herself, she was him.

Vuk was simply the golden child of the village. The only sense of self she still had was her marksmanship.

When the Second Great War started, the village was one of the occupied areas by the Bremen militia and immediately they hid their weapons from the army in the forest and they warned the children to not dig them up. Vuk and the other children one day took a visit there to dig in a dirt-filled trench looking for the abandoned rifles in order to join the Eastern Union forces against the Bremen just like their parents in the first war.

Vuk wasn’t the one who suggested this but was influenced by the kids to join in for the cause or else they’ll call her a coward and a false. She was the first to find a rifle and her activity was noticed by a Bremen reconnaissance aircraft, flying overhead, whom she naively assumed they didn’t notice her and simply shrugged it off, because she was merely a child digging in the dirt. What suspicions are there in that?

The next day was continuing as normal, as normal as it tries to get with the constant piercing eyes of the Bremen soldiers watching every move of the civilians. Vuk went out hunting with her father to gather more meat and fur as winter was nearing. When they returned to the village, they found the place to be oddly deserted and full of flies. As they continued walking past the buildings, Mikhail took a glance behind his shoulder naturally and noticed a pile of executed bodies stacked behind the church, one corpse stacked on top of another, even newborn infants fell victim. Vuk stopped in her tracks when she heard his footsteps lessen and turned around to ask what was wrong until she saw it and it took her seconds to comprehend what caused this to happen. She began to let out a cry to the point she almost lost her voice, looking away from the scene in distress as she clung to her father’s arm instinctually for safety despite no Bremen in sight.

So much for the symbol of hope and order.

Mikhail knew that they both had to evacuate, thus they returned to their homes to pack up their belongings and go, never to come back. As Vuk was clearing her bedroom, her father asked for her to come in and when she did, she noticed that her father had found the very rifle that she dug up from the forest, one of the weapons that the adults told everyone, explicitly to the children, to not dig up.

She knew he knew what was the root cause of this mass execution.

She sees him clenching his fists in all sorts of repressed emotions; wrath, grief, betrayal, fear and possibly more.

‘’I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know this would happen, pa, please, I was only trying to help. I just wanted to help… don’t leave me, please.’’

‘’What did you think it would have happened?’’

His voice was nonchalant yet the movement of his twitching hands was not.

‘’I don’t know, I just… I didn’t know that this would come to happen, but… pa, please, please, I was only intending for the goodness, not… this. Please, don’t hurt me, please. I didn’t mean it. You’d understand, I’m your daughter, yes?’’

Vuk couldn’t help herself, looking anywhere but her father, she was already slowly tearing up like a child she was, now trying to comprehend whether the involuntary manslaughter made her a killer or just a misunderstood folklore tale.

Was she always a false? Was she truly a good individual, an incarnation of a long-forgotten deity whose name brings hope who supposedly abandoned humanity, or evil personified who disguised herself as a child, the pinnacle of innocence? She doesn’t know what she is anymore, what is true and not true. Is any of this reality at all or was it the misjudgments that were multiplied by all the guilt?

‘’Leave, just leave.’’

The girl shook her head no repeatedly, immediately clinging herself to her father, the only family she ever had, the rest were gone to the first war, not wanting to believe the words of abandonment. Begging for him to let her stay by his side but he was pushing her away from her desperate hands and despite not wanting this to happen, he landed a blow to her face to make her get away from him but it wasn’t enough, she was still attached to his arm like a lost pup.

‘’I said leave, Vuk, leave before I’ll do something I’ll regret!’’

He wanted to say ‘it’s for your own good’ at the end, but there’s nothing good that comes out of this situation; what her fate lies behind the door is uncertain but he could sense the dread that would come to hunt a lone girl during a war, he seen it happen before, he was there, he witnessed the depravities of humanities unravelling before his comprehension when the first Great War happened, the spilling of guts everywhere, children being forced in a tied haystack then burned to death with it as they were pushed around by the soldiers like a toy, an elderly woman being stabbed to death the same amount of times that aligns with her age. Anything could happen. That is simply humanity when given the chance.

He advised her to hide in the forests and flee to the west.

Mikhail couldn’t bear to listen to the wailings of his only child as he forcibly pushed her out of the house, pushing her roughly out of the doorstep and seeing her stumble on the dirt ground with her belongings beside her, especially that rifle, he quickly locked the door before she could run for it and laid against it—finally breaking out of the repression and his face fell to his hands as he wept and listened to the banging on the door and pleas.

It was heading into darkness by now and the trees of the forests only helped to intensify the opacity. All isolated with a dried bloody nose from the hit and the very rifle she was holding onto that was the mainspring of this downfall. What had she left of now? An identity crippled to fallen petals, the realisation she wasn’t as exceptional as she was raised to believe that she was. She was bad luck, a walking misfortune who caused more torment than hopeful progress. Exceptional in the way that she brought this to happen. Or was it just destiny? She was merely fifteen, how could she comprehend of such things?

It took two days to finally reach a nearby town and as she took a rest from all the walking, she realised there was a recruitment camp nearby and immediately she went there to be recruited into the Eastern Union army. She came prepared, with virtually every high-level civilian sharpshooter in Bohemia, accrued over years of shooting as a personal hobby and necessary skill for hunting. She easily lied about her age, being a very tall child for her age.

After a rushed training, she was sent to the front quickly. She was fine with shooting living creatures, she was introduced to the concept of death since she gained awareness as a child, hunting animals humanely and skinning them, she thought it would be the same with people. Yet it wasn’t, it was completely different and the screams of pain that followed from not only her shots but others around her. The first battle changed her. This was her first reality in war. It hardened her and took away bits of childhood she had in her.

She became extremely skilled at her job. Tying cloth strips to flutter in the wind distracting enemies, rugged up store mannequins as decoys, shooting in the rain to muffle her gunfire. Her sniping became crueller, not daring to bring a singular hint of hesitation or mercy, she dissociated herself from emotions and kept her focus.

Vuk would aim for the legs so her targets would cry for help to draw out rescuers who became new targets. No matter what, when the soldiers fired upon her, when the Bremens overran, when mortars were raining, she killed and kept killing. Sympathy was not in her dictionary when it came to the Bremens. They seek and take, she’ll hide and seek.

Over the years, she had developed a renowned reputation amongst the front, nicknamed ‘’Lady Dread’’, with her infamy bringing along deadlier opponents and she was becoming heavily targeted at. Battles and sniping were the only aspects of her life that she had grown, for lack of a better word, comfortable with, and where she could truly present her value of where she’s exceptional at, which is marksmanship, for others, they consider her only talent to be at taking people’s breaths away. Nothing else but just a mere killer in a soldier's uniform to cover her acts.

However, ultimately, Vuk had lost the battle, flesh covered with shrapnel and the army was hopelessly outnumbered by the Bremen, the woman who used to be a village girl was forced to evacuate. In the end, she had taken the lives of 325 people, 325 names on her hands, 325 families weeping.

After several months far away from the front and her comrades, her body ridden with fresh shrapnel scars, she was finally given a letter from the officials and was ordered to not return to combat after the news of the Kaiser conquering Prehevil and signing the peace treaty with the Eastern union.

She was devastated. Distressed. Exasperated. Confused. Scared.

All the sacrifices, the killings, the efforts, the deaths of young men and women. It all ultimately led to surrender. This was a betrayal for Vuk, and she will never forgive the Eastern Union for this.

She gave up, was not even acknowledged for her efforts in the war and was left as a stygian veteran with nothing to come back to, to believe in and to become, she was as hollow as a clam without its pearl. A living figment of the past.

Much like her old man.

With nothing to aspire to, never received a proper education herself, she got on the train and decided to return to the very village she came from and perhaps set up a shooting club, or something else… who knows? Only fate will choose what will happen.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

So that's Vuk, granted There's more to her that I would adore to add and there's a recurring character that's important to her but I left it out of the multiple paragraphs for the sake of keeping the main parts of her lore simplified and short.

So, with Vuk's inspiration for her lore and character, she's inspired by Lyudmila Pavilchenko the renowned Soviet sniper with credited 309 kills during WW2, Jinx from Arcane, Florya Gaishun from Come and See (self-explanatory) and probably others I had forgotten about or subconsciously added.

Need to finish her 'moonscorched' form at some point...

[roselungs]

we are

inspired by Mahmoud Darwish

years of a sun loving us, solitude is in the wrist of a magnolia tree, hung or lynched in a rose-throated croon of liberty and justice for all except blues people living in the smoke at a crossroads, what really happened that day robert johnson brought his guitar to meet an evil of all hues play with magic and be ready for it to play with you some folks fear death others know better fear the devil don't tell no soul to spite dying we all have to go someday or another death is a family member you hear of but never met until y'all meet some things is meant for tellin other things just is what they was

i have faced worse things than being forgotten tho you call me woman whom you do not know i am a daughter of sisters of pillaged offerings an afterlife of secrets scores of lustering light i summon you bravely beside me marching onward move not for reasons but love any law that deviates from this is as cruel as it is ancient let your words be soothing terrors never mind what was written we will rewrite it an idea of freedom is all we know

our inheritance is to lift one another we shift into a gust or bristles between strands of hair ashes of breath raging in quiet what land is ours to toss and turn over if not our bodies, the dunes across chests the legs all roads, arms a meadow of marigolds

we survive and regret surviving we are descendants of the end we see the end fences, barbed wire, stone walls, and iron gates do not impede truth. nations can not foresee our being

here in this vessel of marrow and sweat having made it across the bayous of a dark mother's womb and all that tried her pushing through treacherous attempts at our lives fear not what of me resides in you a shawl of waiting hankering to be felt what ails is what ails

wild visions leave doors unlocked dazed veterans returned from combat, injured arms slung close to chest, loyal to a beat or nub. i am a country within a country retire rest a while woke and whirring, my beloved we take to the streets as a sort of rain descending atop roofs of all those who make laws to define the absence between us peculiar spirit who aspires for such things, to possess a people what sin hunts hearts? the birds, the fish, the cattle the islands of what is kept sacred. to nurture is to resist. in all forms we heal. we must work the land before we make claims to it what endures the body is the body when we left our mother's belly we did not take any land only thing we took was the weapon of her smile and the elixir of her love.

—aja monet

[piduai]

i'm writing this post as an attempt to organize my own thoughts and understanding of the main political conflict in gk so it's going to be long and incoherent

there's 3 main parties that had their own separate political ambitions when it came to the use of the gold:

kiroranke, sofia, and initially wilk, who wanted to unite the russian far east and the northern island of japan, hokkaido, under a far eastern federation. their main goals and interests were concentrated in the protection of ethnic minorities in both russia and japan, preservation of their lifestyles, cultures and communities. further political plans regarding governmental structure not specified in the story.

hijikata, and eventually wilk, who wanted to revive the republic of ezo, with an emphasis on the protections of the ainu population. though i suppose the plan was to keep it structured as a republic, considering that most of the shogunate loyalists active in hijikata's time weren't around anymore, he was willing to cede leadership to wilk. they too wanted it to be a multinational federation; hijikata wanted to invite immigrants from all around the world, wilk planned to open its borders to the russian ethnic minorities from the russian east - at least those who could and wanted to immigrate, considering that for a lot of them immigration wasn't feasible due to climate. wilk outlined plans for its national currency.

tsurumi, who wanted to overthrow the japanese government and create an authoritarian military state with all branches centralized. he calls it a fight for the interests of japan and its people. in order to protect those interests, japan requires unity against its enemies; protecting itself in general is at the top of the priority list. after isolating itself for two centuries, japan was at a clear military disadvantage compared to other world powers, and vulnerable to foreign attacks. what he de facto means is that it should catch up on foreign expansion and gain more territorial advantage, as well as cheap labor on conquered areas. his plans for economic growth initially consisted of building weapon factories and selling the product overseas (thus facilitating both internal and external economy), and using conquered territories to plant opium poppies, with the resulting opium being sold to warring states. later it shifted to planting the poppies in hokkaido.

the narrative itself actually neither sides nor condemns any of them, it just presents them as opposing factions and shows their points of view.

obviously they're all at a conflict of interests, but in these few chapters in particular the aspect that is emphasized foremost is uniformity vs diversity. in tsurumi's vision, ethnic minorities have a civic duty towards the nation like the rest of its subjects, ie putting the interests of the nation above all else. said civic duty consists of complete obedience and voluntary assimilation. talk of a different way of life is absurd when the survival of the nation is at stake, and by survival he means the acquisition of power. ethnic minorities are not entitled to special protections and rights in order to continue their lifestyles because they owe their country their cooperation, be it speaking the language, changing their names, or ceding their lands for poppy plantation. if tsurumi were to make that coin it sure as hell wouldn't have any discoloration or disparity, he aims for a pristine, uniform end product.

but the ainu were always there, they're not guests in their own house, why should they owe obedience to their neighbor just because it's bigger and meaner? why should they meekly stand aside as their lives are uprooted, watching their children forget what they were taught by their parents and their parents before them? even within their own ethnic group, ainu people aren't uniform; hokkaido is large, and since ainu live in small communities and are a hunting people, each of them has adapted to the peculiarities of their own region. same is true for ethnic minorities in the russian far east. they are all different, but they are all similar too. and their differences don't put them at odds with each other, because their goal is self-perservation and defense, not acquisition of power. just because that coin doesn't have a uniform appearance it doesn't mean that it's not made of gold, doesn't have value or can't be used for its intended purpose.

[janspar]

Abheski Cultural Primer

In entering the service of the Company, any Abheski possessed of the virtues we exalt above others – these being leadership, initiative, clarity of thought, and financial acumen – may become successful and the very envy of their fellows. Further, with proper training and discipline these virtues may be cultivated and promoted; so that in the training of cadets, the Companies do their utmost for the benefit of these young officers, and thereby the benefit of the Abheski nation.

To truly benefit the nation, we must first understand who we Abheski are; a nation of diverse parts, no doubt, but possessed of a common history.

We came to these lands from abroad – it is not known where exactly from. Some believe that one of the distant lands of Ycairn is the place of our origin, but most agree that we came from another world. Traditional belief across much of the continent holds that we came from the Sun itself, but others believe our origin is from Fasaath, or Kombyeny, or another point within the night sky.

We Abheski are an industrious, creative, and innovative people. Having tamed patches of the wild expanse of the lands, building towns and farms and trading posts, the most successful and prosperous of our ancestors founded the five great cities – Zhikav, Vilv, Otvev, Mirsvr, and Lansk.

Though we live alongside other peoples, we hold ourselves apart. The Abheski have distinguished ourselves twice by mastery over the skies – first, in building the mighty towers that soar over our cities. Some of these towers are centuries old, and stand strong to this day, the least of them stretching higher than fifty people. In the last few generations, our supremacy over the air was proven again in being the first nation to recreate the science of powered flight; our ships, lifted by mighty dvint, broke us free from the shackles of the land.

Trade is the blood of the Abheski culture. Spread across this harsh and hostile continent, ever taming the ancient forests and defending against the great beasts, our trade is what makes the Abheski prosper above all other people; and the Companies are the pinnacle of Abheski trade. Not restricted to one province, we can deal in goods from across the known world. Not bound to the paths of the rivers and coastlines, we can go anywhere our airships can carry us. Abheski goods are prized from the tents of the Anshessi to the outposts of Hoitan, and if an Ebwari baron wants to exchange letters or goods with a Nalmyan chief, it is most probable that an Abheski vessel will carry their intercourse.

There are other practices that mark us as a peculiar peoples among our neighbours. All nations have their own calendar of celebrations and holidays, and the most important of ours is The Yearsrise festival. Though we differ on which precise day this takes places, Abheski always celebrate the end and beginning of the year around the time of winter solstice. Other peoples reckon the year differently: the Erthani begin at the spring equinox, and the Ebwari count from the height of summer. Other nations practice more curious calendars yet.

Our other important festivals are the First Feast, which in ancestral times celebrated the first hunt after each winter; and the late summer Meetday, where the harvest traditionally begins and the year's differences and disagreements are put aside.

Each city and town observe their Founding Dates. These may variously remember the day the first settlers began to build their new homes, or the day the first Spire was finally completed, but always are celebrated with great revels and public entertainments.

Though we are all Abheski, we may have slight differences in our speech. The rapid speech of a city-dweller may sound different to the calmer pace of a settler from the deep forest; the clipped vowels of Otvev are readily distinguished from the rounder syllables of Zhikav; the plain words of the groundsfolk contrast with the florid oratory of the wealthy classes. All these however are still Abheski, and can readily talk to one another; just try to understand the harsh Hoitani or the singing cadences of the Ebwari to hear how truly different language can sound.

Extract from A Child's Primer and History of the Abheski, published by the Temar Company Press

[idontknowanametouse]

Genshin cringe headcanons part 6: Liyue teens

This post reclaims the term "cringe". If you use it as an insult or is triggered by it, please DNI

-

Name: Chongyun

Gender: transmasc demiboy, he/they/ice/ghost

Pictures of Character:

Appearance: ethnically chinese, has albinism, white hair dyed light blue, blue eyes.

Age: 16

Sexuality: asexual gay

Personality: optimistic, introvert, easily exciting, naive, does not understand lies, sarcasm or jokes.

Area of greatest ability: exorcism, books

Likes: ghost stories, snow, small mamallians, cold tea, Xiangling's food (the non-spicy one)

Dislikes: pranks, not seeing ghosts, being "drunk" with ices yang energy

Fears/triggers: big animals, being alone, needles

Kins: winter, shiny things, soft stuff, light blue, marbles, paint

Family: Shenhe (biological aunt) Xianyun (adoptive grandmother)

Relationship status: dating Xingqiu

Friends: Xiangling, Hu Tao, Yanfei, Gaming, Qiqi, Baizhu, Itto, Yelan, Tartaglia

Disabilities: autistic, ADD, fibromyalgia

Belief: believes Rex Lapis and has taoist-like practices

-

Name: Xiangling Maö

Gender: cis girl, she/her

Pictures of Character:

Appearance: ethnically chinese, black, chubby, spoon-kind body, black eyes, braided curly black hair, burn scars on her hands and arms

Age: 14

Sexuality: abroromantic, greyromantic, asexual

Personality: easily exciting, very forgiving, naive, extrovert, may be invasive without knowing

Area of greatest ability: cooking

Likes: travelling on the Crux, making food for her friends and family, getting/hunting new ingredients, onion, fried crystalflies

Dislikes: being limited by other people, when people are rude

Fears/triggers: dying from cold, losing Guoba

Kins: bear, fire, food, cherry blossoms

Family: Wanmin (biological dad) madam Ping (adoptive grandma) Yaoyao (biological little sister) Yanfei (adoptive cousin)

Relationship status: single

Friends: Chongyun, Gaming, Hu Tao, Xingqiu, Beidou, Ganyu, Xinyan, Thoma, Tartaglia

Disabilities: ADHD, dyspraxia, Guoba acts as a service animal and helps her on day to day tasks

Belief: believes Rex Lapis and has taoist-like practices

-

Name: Yanfei

Gender: trans girl, she/it

Pictures of Character:

Appearance: ethnically chinese, white skin, pink hair, black eyes, dark circles, vitiligo

Age: 16

Sexuality: asexual lesbian

Personality: just, ludical, daydreamer, idealistic, easily exciting, sometimes way too anxious

Area of greatest ability: knowing of the law

Likes: studying the penal code, insects, playing with its hair, reading, tofu

Dislikes: showing off her body, fishing, cold food, when bad people pay their way out of their responsabilities

Fears/triggers: being called a freak, yelling, being abandoned

Kins: sand, clay, antlers, books, fire

Family: Xiangling, Yaoyao (adoptive cousins) Wanmin (adoptive uncle) Ping (adoptive great-aunt)

Relationship status: dating Hu Tao

Friends: Itto, Shinobu, Xingqiu, Gaming, Yelan, Chongyun, Qiqi, Ganyu, Xianyun, Shenhe, Eula, Heizou

Disabilities: autistic, chronic back pain, insomnia, fibromyalgia

Belief: believes Rex Lapis and has taoist-like practices

-

Name: Hu Tao

Gender: transfem demigirl, she/they/it/ghost/xe/spooky/he

Pictures of Character:

Appearance: ethnically chinese, dark skin, black hair, brown eyes, thin

Age: 15

Sexuality: asexual lesbian

Personality: playful, peculiar, excentrical, morbid, respectful, caring for every living being, considered weird

Area of greatest ability: funerals

Likes: wax, going to the hills on ghosts own, studying plants, poetry, learning other nations' funerary practices, helping ghosts, steamed fish, prawn dumplings, singing, dancing

Dislikes: qingxin slime, sitting still, being yelled at by other people, people who are rude to her friends

Fears/triggers: not being loved, being considered a freak by those he loves

Kins: ghosts, clay, hilichurls, autumn, halloween, red, calligraphy, stones, butterflies, skeletons, coffins, bath bombs

Family: biological grandpa, Zhongli (adoptive dad) Xiao, Ganyu, Xinyan, Qiqi (adoptive siblings) Childe (found family)

Relationship status: dating Yanfei

Friends: Xiangling, Xingqiu, Chongyun, Gaming, Albedo, Klee, Venti, Shenhe, Xianyun, Kazuha, Furina

Disabilites: autistic, hyperactive, hypermobile

Belief: even though she doesn’t necessairely care about Rex Lapis, he believes him and has taoist-like practices on spookys day-to-day life

-

Name: Xingqiu

Gender: transmasc boyflux, he/they/xe/Knight/write/one/ey/she

Pictures of Character:

Appearance: ethnically chinese, white skin, black hair dyed dark blue, brown eyes

Age: 15

Sexuality: gay

Personality: polite, curious, playful, masks caring with an elite-like mannerism.

Area of greatest ability: writing

Likes: going to Wanwen bookstore, stags, rabbits, reading, pranks, baked goods

Dislikes: being at home and/or with eys family, carrots, taking responsabilities that are not knights own

Fears/triggers: Shenhe, crying in public, being weak

Kins: cherry blossoms, gold, dark academia, water, books, dark blue, coffee

Family: Yelan (cousin)

Relationship status: dating Chongyun

Friends: Baizhu, Gaming, Keqing, Ningguang, Qiqi, Childe, Xiangling, Xinyan, Yanfei, Yaoyao, Yun Jin, Zhongli, Albedo, Kokomi

Disabilities: autistic, ADD, chronic fatigue

Belief: is agnostic

-

Name: Gaming Yip

Gender: pangender, any pronouns

Pictures of Character:

Appearance: ethnically chinese, brown skin, brown eyes, brown hair, muscled, burn scars

Age: 17

Sexuality: pansexual

Personality: energic, ethical, excentric, friendly, kind, independent.

Area of greatest ability: dancing, Fighting

Likes: being with Man Chai and his friends, herbs tea, sweets, helping others, being accepted as who she truly is

Dislikes: not having enough many, food with way too much seasoning, horror stories, not having their dreams validated, having nightmares with Celestia

Fears/triggers: not being accepted, Celestia

Kins: has no kins, but supports his friends who do

Family: biological father, Xianyun (found family aunt)

Relationship status: single

Friends: Beidou, Chongyun, Ganyu, Hu Tao, Qiqi, Shenhe, Xiangling, Xingqiu, Xinyan, Yanfei, Yaoyao, Yun Jin

Disabilities: ADHD

Beliefs: has taoist-like practices

[judexgraves]

Hollow

tw: suicide mention, miscarriage mention, body horror, death

It had been three years since the end of the world as we know it. Three, long years. At least for Vincent, they were long and sufferable. His wife, Isabelle, however, seemed to flourish in what was now the wastelands of what once was a prosperous nation. Landmarks crumbled, buildings were rotted corpses of their former selves, and nature had happily taken back what had always been hers.  Vines twirled around broken lamp posts in the streets they walked daily, and the grasses in some areas were so tall they fell over in waves across themselves. 

What had happened? What always happens when a world ends: Disease and mutually-assured destruction. No one expected it. Biological warfare was the beginning of the end. Powerhouse countries faltered in their compromises and peace treaties. Then, one secretly attacked another, which caused a new wake in the bacteria world. It was hypersensitive, and drove itself deep into the multitudes. No one was resistant to the disease that was created in a lab, and once it evolved in the human bodies, it was lethal. Antibiotics couldn’t touch it. They named the disease Bacteria Zero, but it was quickly nicknamed Hollow.

Hollow worked almost like the flu. Aches, pains, coughing, sneezing, vomiting, et cetera. However, as the bacteria spread, as it took its hold, it held true to its namesake. Flesh began to sprout boils and ulcers. It ate away at the once healthy flesh until people had holes in their bodies. There was no treatment. There was no cure. Hollow, in its final stages, would liquify organs as it brutally attacked them. The people who suffered from Hollow started to commit suicide at first signs. Populations dwindled within the first year of Hollow.

One thing the attacking nation didn’t expect was that it would spread so rapidly overseas. Soon enough it was within their borders. There was still no cure, no antidote, nothing. The assailants suffered, and once the word got out of just which nation started this biological warfare, bombs began to fly. Once everything was said and done, the population was so low, there was no going back. Humanity had dwindled to its final stages.

Vincent and Isabelle were the last living souls. Something peculiar between them had occurred. Vincent never showed signs of Hollow, and Isabelle survived her first bout of it. She always lived in fear that one day it would return to finish her off. Her symptoms, however, persisted. She still coughed to this day, and would have her bad days of vomiting and pain. The pair had a neighbor, a real doomsday prepper, whose bomb shelter they rushed to when the alarms went off. Their neighbor was already long gone, and they assumed he would not mind the usage.

They waited out the bombing and made a plan to live in the shelter until the supplies were gone. The supplies lasted for two years. The year spent after resurfacing had been lonely, as they only came across dead bodies. They assumed that they were possibly the last survivors in New York, and decided to walk to Manhattan and try to survive.

Survival was difficult in the beginning. Neither were hunters, and with animal populations low they faced the threat of starvation. Twinkies helped, and they risked eating the canned foods they came across that were undamaged. Isabelle was the first to decide to hunt. Vincent, at one point in his life merely a teacher, had no interest or ability with guns. Isabelle knew they had to force an ability with it. She thrived. She could hit a deer from quite a way off. Vincent couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. Isabelle found she had an even better hand with a bow, while Vincent couldn’t even get the arrow in the correct space.

Isabelle became the hunter. Vincent became the scavenger. The pair worked happily together, at first. It was a simple life, but they were together, and even if they only had a short time left, at least it was together… right?

Three years in, Vincent felt miserable. He wished for death each night he fell asleep, and cursed life each morning he woke. Isabelle woke up a spring chicken before she pranced off to find her next round of meals for them. On the other hand, Vincent stayed behind in the tattered building where they kept the apartment they called their own.

Vincent usually took things in stride, but today was different. Today, he was going to change his life for the better. He searched the apartment complex. He looked for valuables, clothing, and trinkets. He stockpiled their home in all he found. He was proud of himself. Tonight, he planned to have a party with his wife. To play around as if the world wasn’t at its closing hour. He needed the change of pace. He needed to stop this feeling of suffering.

When Isabelle returned, Vincent welcomed her with open arms. However, she brushed him off. She had no kill for the day. Vincent realized in his day of hunt for his own items, he did not gather food.

“I’m sorry, love. I was trying to find more comforts for us today.”

“We don’t need comforts, we need food.”

Vincent watched as she slammed the bedroom door on him. She didn’t invite him in even when the sun went down. Vincent’s hopeful mood soured, as did his hungry stomach. He was tired of the gamey animals they ate, tired of the canned, cold veggies. He wanted something fresh. He wanted to live like he once did.

His eyes darted towards the closed bedroom door. He crept closer, and as he listened against the thin wood he heard light snores. Isabelle was a heavy sleeper, and it would be quick and painless in her sleep. He didn’t need her. He could survive alone in this world without her hatred and the way she ignored his thoughtfulness. How dare she think she could ever treat him like this, blowing him off after all the hard work he did today.

Quietly, he pushed open the door. His wife laid on a mattress on the floor inside. She looked so peaceful; so trusting. Vincent had second thoughts as he tried to shake what had come over him. Why would he think to harm her? She was his wife, his entire life now. Yet somehow that made him angrier as he dwelled upon it.

Before the world went into the Hell it had become, he was ready to divorce her. She didn’t have a job. She didn’t do anything around the house, and it was a chore to get her to even love him like he felt he should be loved. On the flip side, she always told him the opposite: how she did all the housework and cooking, and that she loved him as much as he could. It was a never-ending battle between the pair before Hollow came. A battle Vincent would have won with a handful of papers and a signature.

He realized he only stayed with he because of the circumstances of Hollow. He didn’t want to be alone in this lonely world. Although, what if others nearby survived? What if he just traveled and looked for companions? Surely they weren’t the only survivors, and even if so, did he want to spend his final days with her? A woman – he suddenly realized – he only used for food and entertainment.

He stepped towards the bed. His stomanch growled loudly, which caused Isabelle to rollover as she stirred from the noise. Her mind tired to warm her of an intruder, but he realized she was too deep in her sleep to come out of it so easily. A grin formed upon his lips as he took the hunting knife from her stash of weapons on the floor.

He could learn to hunt. If not, he could survive off canned food until he found a place to start over, plant things, and survive off the land. He had big ideas, however, his gut told him he could only accomplish those things with Isabelle. He had second thoughts.  What if that was true? No. He didn’t need her. He didn’t need her before Hollow, and he wouldn’t need her after.

She coughed.

Diseased, he thought. She was only going to become sick again, and when that happened, what was he supposed to do? Care for her? Watch her die? He could end all the worries now, he could end her suffering. That’s it. He was ending her suffering.

Before he realized it, he had plunged the hunting knife’s wide blade deep into her ribcage in one quick movement. Isabelle woke with a howl of pain, coughing up blood onto her bare chest. She always slept naked. He had loved that about her once.

“Vincent?” she questioned in confusion and fear.

He had no words. He ripped the knife from her chest and plunged it into her heart. As a final, bloody breath bubbled on her lips; Vincent realized what he had done. Her eyes locked with his. Even in death, they stared accusingly into his own. Vincent rolled her onto her stomach so he wouldn’t have to look at those haunting eyes.

“Finally.” His words seemed to echo in the dark room. “I hunted my first kill,” he spoke to himself with joyous laughter.

By morning, Vincent had her body in pieces. A book on how to prepare a whole pig from start to finish by his side. He guessed on the differences in a human body, but for the most part, he felt proud of the meat he had taken from her. Only the best cutes for his morning meal would suffice.

As he cooked a chunk of thigh, the smile never left his bloodied face. His clothing was soaked in Isabelle’s life. Medium rare was his choice, and he felt that even over a fire he had cooked it to perfection. It took him a few moments after it was plated to decide to eat it. The taboo nature of his meal was almost too much to bear, but hunger overcame his guilt as he took his first bite.

He consumed her. Cooked more of her throughout the day until he could eat no longer. He felt as if he had taken her within him. That her hunting abilities would be his own now. He had read once that there was a tribe somewhere who believed in such things.

The cheerless days following this drifted by slowly. They were quiet, until the night of heavy rain. He let the rain wash away his sins, finally cleaning her dried blood from himself. He felt renewed.

Vincent spent his days with a will to learn to hunt. And that he did. He killed his first deer two weeks after Isabelle’s death. To him, it was a sign. He ad truly consumed her ability. That night he slept in the blood-stained bed; full. That night, however, proved to be the beginning of the end.

The man tossed and turned all night. The voice of Isabelle haunted him. He’d lie awake and only hear her voice call for him. He beat the palms of his hands against his head, buried his face into the pillow, and paced the halls, but to no avail. He was plagued. He had consumed her thoughts, her wants, her everything. He’d always known she wanted him to suffer, and now was her chance.

In the early morning hours, the voice stopped. The horrid night finally over, he soon fell asleep. His dreams were filled with regrets. The memory of his wedding, the trials of Isabelle’s multiple miscarriages, and even when she was sick with Hollow. He awoke in a dead sweat and pain in his stomach.

He lifted his shirt to see bubbles had formed upon his flesh. He scrubbed at them, but they only caused him pain. He then leaned over the bed and vomited on the carpet. Blood mingled with the undigested deer meat. He could have sworn he saw maggots, but after he blinked, they were gone.

“No,” he whispered.

How could he have contacted Hollow? He hadn’t when it ran rampant through his town and the world, but now he showed the signs. His mind fell upon when he ate Isabelle, and he cursed multiple times as he flung himself out of the bed to look in the mirror in the bathroom. The cracks that ran through the mirror gave an almost funhouse view of his face, but he saw what he needed. The sores, the sunken, bloodshot eyes, the dried vomit on his chin. He coughed.

His body felt weak enough that he had to sit down once more upon the bed edge. What was he to do? Could he survive it like Isabelle? Or should he get out while he still could without the horrific pain that would follow the Hollow’s final stages?

He rushed to find the handgun that he kept in the living room. Why he kept it like he did under the cushion he’d never fully understood. It wasn’t like people were around that he had to protect himself from. However, now instead of survival, he only wanted to end his suffering before it began.

When he could not find the handgun, he screamed out in anger. Isabelle! Where did you put it?”

He received no response. He knew though. He knew she had done it. She haunted him day in and day out, and now she kept him from the sweet release of this disease. He searched the place over. Not only could he not find the handgun, but the rifle was missing, as was Isabelle’s hunting knife.

“Where is it?” he questioned aloud to only himself. His confusion made his head spin as he fell to the floor. He lied there as his stomach twisted and churned. He laughed to himself as he wiped the fresh tears that rolled down his dirty cheeks. He knew she had poisoned him. That she willed her meat to be tainted.

“I hate you!” he cried out as he felt along his abdomen. The boils and ulcers gave way to small holes that grew slowly. He lost track of how long he laid in that floor. He watched four sunsets and three sunrises pass by the window. He touched his belly once more. His fingers brushed against swollen intestines. He turned his head to the side and vomited.

He choked on the bile before he took in a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling. “Why?” he questioned into the void of the world. Any god out there would forsake such a man, he knew as much. However, he still questioned where he would go soon. He shook away his fears of death as he slowly moved to his feet.

His intestines spilled from the gaping hole, and he tripped over the organ. After he fell flat on his face he cried out in pain that ended in a whimper. His vision blurred. He tried to blink it away to no avail. His breath slowed and became labored. In the final moments before he left the world, he cursed his wife’s name.

Hollow had won the battle against man. The last two survivors dead; one from the peak of anger and another from following a man on the edge. The world was consumed by hate, and Hollow stood its ground and won the battle. The most invasive species to exist left the world, and nature retook the world in the wake of this departure. The departure of mankind.

*****

(This had previously been published in the Kyanite Press Vol 1 January/February 2019 issue 3, under a pen name. However, with the dissolution of the press as well as being now five years out, per contractual obligations, here is my short story for whoever wishes to enjoy it.)

[jueying]

Suspicious Sunday Scrap; He doesn’t know where Dan Feng is, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that when he speaks a name, he has to rhyme it with something. If he does not, he will be hunted down and viciously head-butted by a very strong, very fast, rogue goat. His location does not matter; sea, air, underground. It is only a matter of time.

What a peculiar little set of conditions. The question of where and how this condition was said to be placed upon him never came to mind - in an era of battles and wars fought between aeons and nations, truly the resilience and stubbornness of both mortals and immortals alike could result in the oddest of results. Surely if the unimaginative panel of preceptors caught wind of this, there would be nothing short of an uproar. The root cause would not so much on behalf of his own safety and more so on the audacity of the idea of appearing 'weak' enough so that an outsider could impose such a condition on one as illustrious as the high elder so easily. If he elected to follow such a train of thought, he too would surely be offended.

Instead the faintest bit of amusement snuck into his otherwise unresponsive expression, soft sigh weathering what might be the beginnings of a chuckle. Names were not words that he uttered all too often, save for a few choice individuals that were able to see past some parts of the skin of the high elder, so perhaps this might not be the most difficult of conditions as so thought.

"Mm, very well." At least he could now spend the afternoon thinking of little rhyming mechanisms for the rest of the HCQ.

[lingshanhermit]

Lingshan Hermit: "Knowledge like 'How many teeth does a crow have in its mouth'"

In the documentary series filmed by National Geographic, there was one about mummies. This documentary began by discussing the discovery of nearly a hundred 7,000-year-old mummies in Chile in 1983, and told the stories of ancient human remains from various civilizations around the world. The documentary mentioned that in the 19th century, Egyptian mummies were excavated in large numbers and exported to Europe. The Europeans at that time ground these mummies into powder to treat all kinds of diseases, believing it to be a panacea with miraculous healing powers. They were so abundant that they were even used as fuel for steam locomotives. National Geographic has many such documentaries. The British are very good at making documentaries, and some of them are indeed very well made, such as The Last Crocodile Dinner, which is one of the best documentaries I've ever seen. It gave me a very intuitive understanding of the animal realm. Watching National Geographic documentaries allows you to understand the different forms of life that exist in different times and spaces, their ways of living and thinking, what they are pondering and doing. If used correctly, these documentaries can broaden your horizons and deepen your understanding of Buddhism's concept of the six realms. However, do not forget the existence of demons, remember we talked about it before? From the very beginning of your practice, demons have been lurking in the dark, waiting for opportunities, looking for your vulnerabilities. They will not miss any chance to strike you down, nor will they let you properly utilize these materials. Therefore, in those documentaries from BBC and National Geographic, there exists much "knowledge that does not need to be known," as Tibetans would say. What would happen if a practitioner spent time learning this "knowledge that does not need to be known"? There has always been a saying in Tibetan society: "Knowledge like 'how many teeth does a crow have in its mouth' is unnecessary to know." In China, the great Zhuangzi also once said: "My life has a limit but knowledge is limitless; if I let my limited life pursue the unlimited, I will be in danger." Both Zhuangzi and the Tibetan sages realized the harm of useless knowledge. They reminded people not to spend time on useless knowledge like "how many teeth a crow has in its mouth." From the perspective of Buddhism, there is a lot of knowledge that is useless to us. If we spend time learning and accumulating this useless knowledge, we are only wasting our limited lives. One could say this is one of the most unnoticeable demonic obstructions, and also one of the most ingenious designs of the Demon King. However, in today's world, if someone dares to say not to learn so much knowledge because some knowledge is useless, they would undoubtedly be mocked by many people.

A person with a lot of useless knowledge naturally has a lot to talk about. He knows the anecdotes about Tolstoy, the love affairs of Pushkin, how the British nobility hunted tigers in India. Possessing these conversation topics allows you to be at ease in social situations, makes you very popular, and lets your ego be extremely satisfied. But if you are a practitioner, then you have fallen into an ingenious trap. The ingenuity of this trap lies in the fact that although you are wasting time, you do not feel like you are wasting time, because you are learning knowledge. How could learning knowledge be a waste of time?

For those practitioners who have not yet attained liberation, they actually do not need to learn useless knowledge like "how many teeth a crow has in its mouth." Our lives are very short, and after deducting time for sleeping, eating, idling, working and chatting, the time you have left for practice is already very limited. Knowing how many teeth a crow has, when the Alaska Mahi spawns, or the peculiar fetishes and bizarre bedroom furniture of Catherine the Great, is useless besides providing conversational material. However, this is the trap that practitioners who regard themselves as cultured are most likely to fall into. Of course, if you are an enlightened sage, that is another matter. Those great bodhisattvas may need to learn some of this kind of knowledge, because they need to communicate with sentient beings, they need to know what sentient beings are interested in. For the convenience of communicating with sentient beings, they need to understand these things. But if you are not such a great bodhisattva, if you are still at the preliminary stage, then you should figure out which knowledge is useful and which is useless. Figure out how much time you have left. Is this time enough for you to learn useful things? By the way, some knowledge is not only useless, but also harmful, because it is wrong. Many people think the more books you read, the better. I strongly disagree with this. Books are not necessarily more useful the more you read. There are many things that look like books but are actually just a stack of handwritten papers bound together. You need to learn true knowledge, knowledge that is truly beneficial to both yourself and others. That's it.

This article was first published on July 25, 2021 on Lingshan Hermit's Sina Weibo, Google Blogger and other self-media. All rights reserved. Infringement will be investigated.

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灵山居士：“乌鸦嘴里有多少颗牙”这样的知识

在国家地理拍摄的纪录片里，有一部是关于木乃伊的。这部纪录片从1983年智利发掘出近百具7000年前的木乃伊谈起，讲述了世界各文明里远古人类骨骸的故事。那部纪录片提到在十九世纪，埃及的木乃伊曾被大量挖掘出来出口到欧洲，这些木乃伊被当时的欧洲人磨成粉，用来治疗各种疾病，欧洲人相信它是万能药，具有神奇的疗愈能力。当时它们的数量甚至多到被用来当做蒸汽火车的燃料。国家地理有很多这样的纪录片，英国人很会拍纪录片，他们有些纪录片确实拍的很好，譬如《鳄鱼最后的晚餐》，这是我看过的最好的纪录片之一，它让我对畜生道有了很直观的了解。看国家地理的纪录片能让你了解到那些生活在不同时空里的不同的生命，他们的��活和观念，他们在想什么，在做什么。如果正确运用的话，这些纪录片可以拓展你的视野，可以加深你对佛法对六道的了解。但是，不要忘了魔罗的存在，还记得我们之前说过吗？从你修行伊始，魔罗就在暗处窥伺着你，他在等待机会，在寻找你的漏洞，他不会放过任何一个可能击溃你的机会，他也不会让你顺顺当当正确运用这些东西。所以，在BBC和国家地理那些纪录片里，存在着很多西藏人所说的“不需要了解的知识”。如果一个修行人把时间花在了解“不需要了解的知识”上面，那会如何呢？在西藏社会，一直都有一句话：“乌鸦嘴里有多少颗牙这样的知识是无需了解的。”在汉地，伟大的庄子也曾经说：“我生也有涯，而知也无涯，以有涯随无涯，殆己。”庄子和藏地的圣贤们都看出了无用的知识的危害。他们提醒人们不要把时间花在类似于“乌鸦嘴里有多少颗牙”这样的知识上面。从佛法的角度来说，有很多知识对我们是无用的，如果我们花时间去学习积累这种无用的知识，那只是在浪费我们有限的生命，应该说这是最不容易被察觉的魔障之一，这也是魔王最巧妙的设计之一。但是在当今世界，如果有人胆敢说不要学那么多知识，因为有些知识是无用的，一定会被很多人嘲笑。

一个人拥有很多无用的知识，他就自然会拥有很多谈资，他知道托尔斯泰的逸闻，知道普希金的情事，知道英国贵族在印度如何猎虎，拥有这些谈资会让你在社交场合如鱼得水，会让你大受欢迎，会让你的自我超级满足。但是如果你是一个修行者，那么你已经掉进了一个精巧的陷阱，这个陷阱的精巧之处在于虽然你在浪费时间，但是你不会觉得自己是在浪费时间，因为你是在学习知识。学习知识怎么会是浪费时间？

对于那些尚未解脱的修行者来说，他们其实不需要去学习那些类似“乌鸦嘴里有多少颗牙”这样的无用知识。我们的生命很短暂，除去睡觉吃饭发呆工作闲聊，你能用于修行的时间已经所剩无几。知道乌鸦嘴里有几颗牙知道阿拉斯加的大马哈鱼何时产卵知道叶卡捷琳娜二世的特殊癖好和她卧室里的奇葩家具除了增加你的谈资之外毫无用处。但是这是那些以文化人自居的修行者最容易掉进去的陷阱。当然，如果你是已经获得解脱的圣者那就另当别论了。那些大菩萨们，他们可能会需要去学习一些这样的知识，因为他们需要和众生沟通，他们需要知道众生的兴趣所在。为了和众生沟通的方便，他们需要了解这些。但是如果你不是这样的大菩萨，你还处于初级阶段，那么你应该搞清楚哪些知识是有用的，哪些知识是无用的？搞清楚你还剩下多少时间？这些时间够不够你学习有用的东西？顺便提醒一下，有些知识不但无用，还会有害，因为它是错误的。很多人觉得书读的越多越好，我对此非常不以为然，书不是读的越多越有用，有很多看起来像是书的东西其实只是一沓被装订在一起的手纸。你需要学习的是真正的知识，真正对自他都有益的知识，就是这样。

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[ingek73]

From ferret electricians to landmine-sniffing rats – meet the extraordinary animals that work for a living

Sometimes the right person for the job isn’t a person at all …

Magawa, a recently retired mine-detecting rat, plays with his former handler in Cambodia. Photograph: Cindy Liu/Reuters

by Emma Beddington

Thu 19 Oct 2023 11.00 CEST

Our relationship with animals is deeply peculiar, spanning the spectrum from besotted to breezily exploitative. Whether they are friends, pests, assets, dinner or catnip content creators, the relationship tends to be heavily skewed in our favour. We might look after our pets devotedly, but most animals aren’t so lucky in their encounters with us.

There are a few instances, however, where human interests and animals’ natural behaviours and inclinations more or less align. Most aren’t technically “mutualistic” interactions between two species that benefit both, like a clownfish hiding in and cleaning up its sea anemone. Even so, there is a cheering amount of win-win in a handful of our relationships with the natural world. Let’s take a look at some of that mutual back-scratching.

Bat librarians

Careful curators … bats have lived in the Joanina library at the University of Coimbra in Portugal for centuries. Photograph: Marcin Jamkowski/Adventure Pictures/Alamy

The baroque Joanina Library at the University of Coimbra in Portugal is well known for its exquisitely detailed gilding and woodwork, but also for what its deputy director, António Maia do Amaral, calls its “honorary librarians”: bats. Amaral explains that there are two small colonies – free-tailed bats and pipistrelles – living in Joanina. They have been there for centuries: 18th-century library paperwork documents an order of large leather sheets from Russia; these sheets, known as “moscovias”, are still unrolled at night to protect the huge embossed tropical wood tables from bat droppings.

Literary wingman … a pipistrelle bat, one of two species found at Joanina. Photograph: Rudmer Zwerver/Alamy

Whether the bat librarians are actually helping is a moot point. The assumption is that they feed on book-eating insects that could damage the library’s precious collection, but their droppings have never been analysed to check. “As far as I know, it has always been a peaceful coexistence, even if their role in pest control is maybe marginal,” says Amaral. “We cannot trust bats alone to preserve the books from flying insects. For that purpose, we have a six-cubic-metre anoxic chamber for cleaning the books.”

The bats are part of the library anyway, even if they are only occasionally spotted (usually at evening events, when they flutter out from the shelves to entertain guests). Visitors are intrigued – you can even get a baseball cap with a Joanina bat on it – but opinions within the library vary. “My first director was always very annoyed when asked about the bats’ existence,” says Amaral. “He felt that bats were the least important thing in the library, because he was such a cultured man. Nowadays, people are more often benevolent and amused with the bat story. Personally, I’m very happy with the bats and pray for their good health.”

The bats weren’t the only honorary librarians in previous centuries, Amaral adds. Historical library records included an annual sum in the budget for feeding Joanina’s mouse-hunting cats; you can still spot “cat doors” cut into the woodwork.

Ferret electricians

The cutest cable guys … ferrets strut their stuff on Channel 4.

“Ferrets are, if you want to be polite, inquisitive; if you want to be blunt, they’re nosy little devils,” says James McKay of the National Ferret School. “When you put them in any opening, they want to go through and see what’s at the other end.” Their curiosity, shape and sinuous flexibility mean they can get to places and do jobs no human could manage. Felicia the ferret became a furry pipe cleaner for the Fermilab particle accelerator in Illinois in 1971; ferrets wriggled under the floor of St Paul’s Cathedral to enable TV transmission of the royal wedding in 1981 and cabled the Millennium Dome (the work of three called Beckham, Posh and Baby).

Naturally inquisitive … ferrets can squeeze into spaces that humans can’t. Photograph: Farlap/Alamy

How does the cabling work? The ferret wears a harness attached to a long, light nylon line. Once it has threaded the line through a duct, the line is attached to a heavier pull rope to thread the cable. Although there is some training involved – the school has a training area with a range of vertical and split pipes and cul-de-sacs – it is really a case of capitalising on the ferrets’ natural inclination to investigate holes. A bit of salmon oil at the far end of a long pipe as a reward can help them find their way. The furthest one of McKay’s ferrets has travelled is about 250 metres: “We’ve never had one get halfway and decide to come back.”

The school’s business (the delightful collective noun for ferrets) numbers about 50 and McKay usually takes half a dozen along on a job in case someone isn’t in the mood. The hobs (males, which are larger) can pull lines longer distances, while the smaller jills (females) are better at wriggling through the narrowest spaces. Does he have a favourite ferret? “They’re all as good as each other.”

Winemaking ducks and spiders

How winemaking ducks help Vergenoegd Löw vineyard – video

At the Vergenoegd Löw winery in South Africa, pest control on the vines is the responsibility of a flock of more than 1,000 Indian runner duck “soldiers”. They emerge in a cacophony of honks every morning and spend the day eating aphids, snails and worms, keeping the vines pest-free and healthy. They circulate in a 14-day loop around different areas of the vineyard, with their droppings providing a bonus fertiliser. The ducks take a break only during harvest – grapes are just too tempting – when they get a holiday to swim in a nearby lake, forage on farmland and, er, work on producing the next generation of vineyard soldiers.

A corking idea … gigantic cobwebs drape the cellar walls at R López de Heredia winery in La Rioja, Spain. Photograph: Agefotostock/Alamy

Meanwhile, at the R López de Heredia winery in La Rioja, gigantic cobwebs drape the cellar walls and yet more cover the bottles. They aren’t Halloween props or atmospheric decor: they are home to the spiders who help the López de Heredia family keep their barrels and corks free from cork-eating moths – “the mortal enemy of long‑ageing wine”.

Diagnostic technician and demining rats

Another fruitful endeavour … one of Apopo’s rats gets a tasty treat for identifying an inactive mine in Cambodia. Photograph: Taylor Weidman/Getty Images

The 300 African giant pouched rats employed by the NGO Apopo are multitalented. Not only have they worked on mine clearance in south-east Asia and Africa, but they also sniff out positive tuberculosis sputum samples.

Why are they so good at the job? “They’ve very smart; they’re sociable; they have an excellent sense of smell,” says Lily Shallom of Apopo. “In the past, we’ve found that they can smell a picogram of TNT – a trillionth of a gram.” The rats are “very motivated by food. They like to stuff their cheeks; they have a sweet tooth and they love anything that’s got a really high fat and protein content.” Peanuts and bananas are particular favourites.

The rats signal when they have found a mine by scratching at the surface of the ground. (Weighing a maximum of 1.5kg, the rats are much too light to set off a mine; none have been hurt in the field.) A TB sample, meanwhile, is flagged as potentially positive if a rat hovers over it for three seconds.

Reporting for duty … Apopo’s life-saving rats.

It’s a nice life for these highly sociable creatures. Training (which takes nine months on average) or work make up a tiny portion of the rats’ day: mine detection sessions last about 20 minutes, building up to half an hour. Assessing 100 TB samples – the standard batch size – takes a maximum of 20 minutes, but could take a human technician up to four days. The rest of the rats’ day is devoted to free play, hanging out with other rats, snacking and napping.

Apopo is always exploring potential uses for the rats’ special skillset at its training and research centre in Tanzania. Projects include searching for survivors of natural disasters, detecting illegally trafficked pangolin scales and decontaminating land, with the rats deployed to detect specific concentrations of hydrocarbons in soil.

Honey-hunting birds

Birds of a feather … a honey hunter studies a greater honeyguide at the Niassa national reserve in Mozambique. Photograph: Claire Spottiswoode/AP

Humans and greater honeyguides have a genuinely mutualistic relationship: the small, brown‑ish African relative of the woodpecker flutters in front of people, tweeting to guide them to bees’ nests in hollow tree trunks. The humans then smoke out the potentially dangerous bees and take the honey. The honeyguide watches and waits until they have finished, then enjoys its preferred food: beeswax.

On song … how honeyguides talk to people.

In 2016, a research team at the University of Cambridge discovered that communication between honeyguides and humans goes both ways. They learned that honey hunters from the Yao community in Mozambique have a better chance of attracting honeyguides, and finding honey, if they use a specific sound: “A loud trill followed by a short grunt: brrr-hmm.” The call increased the overall chance of finding honey from 16% to 54% compared with control sounds. “The ‘brrr-hmm’ call more than tripled the chances of a successful interaction, yielding honey for the humans and wax for the bird,” reported Dr Claire Spottiswoode, who led the project.

Hawk bouncers

Top flight … a working hawk at the Hayward Gallery, London. Photograph: Stephen Chung/Alamy

Why do pigeons need to be deterred? According to Citihawk’s Leigh Holmes, they represent a twofold health hazard: “Pigeon fouling contains horrendous amounts of bacteria and parasites – and when wet it becomes very slippery,” she says. The hawks aren’t there to attack or eat the pigeons – that never happens, according to Holmes. They would rather fly back for chicken pieces held by their handlers. The aim is to scare them off and discourage them from returning. The theory, says Holmes, is that “pigeons see a natural predator that they are in-built to be fearful of … They disappear to find somewhere safer to roost, nest and feed.”

The hawks fly free, exploring wherever they like on the day’s site. “They love the exercise; they love getting out and flying,” says Holmes. She thinks they particularly relish working in urban areas. “They really enjoy some of the hustle and bustle, because they fly exceptionally well.” That freedom does mean they sometimes go awol. “They can be quite childlike at times and see a pigeon a street away or on another roof. They will literally just go to scare off other birds.” The hawks are fitted with trackers, so the handlers can follow their movements in real time.

Harris’s hawks are good at this work because they are naturally gregarious and used to hunting collaboratively in the wild, says Holmes. When trained by humans, they view their falconer as part of their hunting team. “They learn to read each other,” she says. “It’s incredible. It’s an amazing feeling for the staff members.”

Another big part of the falconer’s job is interacting with amazed and delighted members of the public: “The amount of photographs taken, the amount of interest and the amount of love for birds of prey … People just love it.”

[anglo-norman]

The Stuarts were also deeply lined to the land indeed, with all three lands. As with their continental counterparts, this link was partly historic, partly mythic. This was particularly true of the Stuarts:

Subsequently, it was to be “those who supported the Divine Right of Kings” who “upheld the historicity of Arthur;” whereas those who did not turned instead “to the laws and customs of the Anglo-Saxons.” Arthur remained a figure central to Stuart propaganda. Stuart iconography celebrated the habits and beliefs of the ancient Britons. In particular, the Royal Oak, still a central symbol of the dynasty, was closely related to ideas about Celtic fertility ritual, and the King’s power as an agent of renewal: “The oak, the largest and strongest tree in the North, was venerated by the Celts as a symbol of the supreme power.” It was thus fitting that an oak should protect Charles II from the Cromwellian troops who wished to strip the sacred new Arthur of his status. The story confirmed the King’s mystical authority, and also his close friendship with nature. Long after 1688, the Stuart dynasty was to be closely linked with images of fertility. In literature, Arthurian images of the Stuarts persisted into the nineteenth century. This “Welsh messiah, the warrior who will come to overthrow the Saxons and Normans,” was an icon of the Stuarts’ claim to be Kings of all Britain, both “Political Hero” and “National Messiah,” in Arthurian mould. Arthur’s status as a legendary huntsman (“the figure of the Wild Huntsman is sometimes identified with Arthur”) was also significant. The Stuarts made much of hunting: it helped to confirm their heroic status as stewards of nature and the land. In doing this, they identified themselves not only with Arthur, but with Fionn, the legendary Gaelic warlord who was in the eighteenth century to be the subject of James Macpherson’s pro-Stuart Ossian poems. Fionn, legends of whom abound in Scotland, was also, like Arthur, scheduled to wake and deliver the nation when danger threatened. In identifying with both figures, the Stuarts were able to simultaneously present themselves as Gaelic and British monarchs. This symbolism was used with peculiar adroitness in Ireland, where the Stuarts were almost never identified with Arthur, but rather with Fionn and heroes from Fionn’s own time. Charles Edward was compared to Fergus, Conall, Conroy, and Angus Oge, while his grandfather became for some a symbol of Ireland herself, a Fenian hero in the making, a foreshadower of the sacrificial politics of such as Pearse: “Righ Shemus, King James, represented the faith of Erin, and so became her comrade in martyrdom.” In famous eighteenth century songs like “the Blackbird,” Ireland was presented as an abandoned woman, waiting for the return of her hero-King. The same symbolism was used in Scotland. “The Gaelic messianic tradition” of Fionn suggested that the Stuart King would one day return to bring light and fecundity to the land. In the Highlands of Scotland, the events of Jacobitism themselves passed into folklore, like the older stories to which they were related. More educated Jacobite sympathisers compared the Stuarts to the heroes of the Roman Republic, to Aeneas, or to the saints. But the view of them as sacred monarchs of folkloric tradition and power was one which endured among all ranks (Murray G.H. Pittock, The Invention of Scotland, pp. 4-5).

On the one hand, such Kings –and the Stuarts in particular – were not only connected to the land, they were its stewards – hunters, guardians of the forest, promoters of agriculture (this is why there are so many national – formerly Royal – stud farms, sheep folds, and cattle pens across Europe).

[ausetkmt]

In a dystopian near future in Brazil, an authoritarian government orders all citizens of African descent to move to Africa - creating chaos, protests, and an underground resistance movement that inspires the nation.

Set in a dystopian near future in Rio de Janeiro, a lawyer sues the Brazilian government for reparation of all descendants of African slaves in the country. The authoritarian government responds by signing an executive order sending all black citizens to Africa as an excuse to repay the debts of slavery.

Citizens are measured by their skin color, hunted, and exiled to Africa against their will. While the army and police enforce the law, he enlists his uncle to find his wife, a doctor who has gone missing and joins an underground movement. The three of them fight the madness that has taken over the country and spark a resistance that inspires the nation.

This story takes us to future Brazil, where a social compensation act directly affects the life of a family. This peculiar family is formed by a couple, doctor Capitú (Taís Araújo) and the lawyer Antonio (Alfred Enoch), as well as his cousin, the journalist André (Seu Jorge), who lives with them as a favor.

One day, a presidential decree is passed to offer financial compensation for the days of slavery. However, another decree is enacted right after. Due to this new act, the couple gets separated, not knowing if they'll every meet again.

The Executive Order in the title is referred to as Executive Order 1888. 1888 is the year slavery was abolished in Brazil with a law that was sanctioned by princess Isabel de Orleans e Bragança on May 13th.