#reede imperial

[sunset-peril]

I decided to be funny and make this

Based on this, and also this

Also a good visual for Link and Reede's scene in the first link.

[muffinlevelchicanery]

[cokiemace]

[mummer]

God the fucking punchline made it all so perfect. just crazy, crazy good. Messy messy messy MESSY season which didnt all work but: lol. lmao. And sally. Oh, my darling sally....... Main character sally

[astrid-goes-for-a-spin]

something I do not understand is when we’re rightly complaining about Brian Reed’s Ms. Marvel run, why do we never mention the fucked up Monica Rambeau LMD stuff? Even in that run it stands out in its misogyny and disgust 

[specialagentartemis]

godddddd i have disliked becky chambers' work since long way to a small angry planet and I agree that that fish scene is SO much of what is wrong with contemporary SFF especially queer SFF. refreshing take, great review, thank you. would love to hear what authors or works you think of as the antidote to that sensibility.

The thing is, I enjoyed The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet when I first read it - it was a fun, light adventure, clearly a debut novel but I was excited to see where Chambers would go from there. And I actually really do think the sequel, A Closed and Common Orbit, was good! It did interesting things with AI personhood and identity.

... and then Chambers just kinda. Did not get better. She settled into a groove and has a set number of ideas that I feel like she hasn't broken out of, creatively. And they I M O kind of rest on an assumption that "human nature" = "how people act in suburban California."

As an antidote to that sensibility, I'd say... books where people have a real interrelationship with the land they inhabit, a sense of being present, and reciprocal obligations to that land; books that recognize that some things can never be taken back once done; books with well-drawn characters, where people have strong opinions deeply informed by their circumstances, that can't always be easily reconciled with others, and won't be brushed aside; books where these character choices matter, they impact each other, they cannot be easily gotten over, because people have obligations to each other and not-acting is a choice too.

And it's only fair that after all day of being a Hater I should rec some books I really did like.

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke - A man lives alone in an infinite House, over an equally infinite ocean. Captures the feeling that I think Monk & Robot was aiming for. Breathtaking beauty, wonder at the world, philosophy of truth, all that good stuff, and actually sticks the landing. The main character's love, attention, and care to his fantasy environment shows through in every page. (Fantasy, short novel)

Imperial Radch by Ann Leckie - An AI, the one fragment remaining of a destroyed imperial spaceship, is on a quest for revenge. Leckie gets cultural differences and multiculturalism, and conversely, what the imposition of a homogeneous culture in the name of unity means. (Space sci-fi, novel trilogy)

Machineries of Empire by Yoon Ha Lee - An army captain's insubordination is punished by giving her a near-impossible mission: to take down a rebelling, heretical sect holing up in a space fortress and defying imperial power. She gets a long dead brain-ghost of a notorious criminal downloaded into her head to help. Very, very good at making you feel like every doomed soldier was a person with a past, with a family, with feelings, with hopes and dreams and frustrations and favorites and preferences and reasons to live, right before they brutally die in a space war. Also very much about the imposition of homogeneity of culture as a force of imperialism. (Space sci-fi, novel trilogy)

The Fortunate Fall by Cameron Reed - Maya Andreyevna is a VR journalist in high-tech dystopian future Russia, and she decides to investigate the truth that the government doesn't want her to. She might die trying. It's fine. Also has digital brain-sharing, this time in a gay way. It's bleak. It's sad. It feels real. Not making a choice is a choice. Backing out is a choice. And choices have consequences. Choices reverberate through history. About responsibility. (Cyberpunk, novel)

The Vanished Birds by Simon Jimenez - Nia Imani is a spaceship captain, a woman out of time, a woman running from her past, and accidentally adopts a boy who has a strange power that could change the galaxy. Spaceship crew-as-found-family in the most heartbreaking of ways. Also about choices, how the choices you make and refuse to make shape you and shape the world around you. How the world is always changing around you, how the world does not stay still when you're gone, and when you come back you're the same but the world has moved on around you. About how relationships aren't always forever, and that doesn't mean they weren't important. About responsibility to others. It's a slow, sad book and does not let anyone rest on their laurels, ever. There is no end of history here. Everything is always changing, on large scales and small, and leaving you behind. (Space sci-fi, novel)

Dungeon Meshi / Delicious in Dungeon by Ryoko Kui - A D&D style fantasy dungeon crawl that stops to think deeply about why there are so many dungeons full of monsters and treasure just hanging around. Here because it's an example of an author thinking through her worldbuilding a lot, and it mattering. Also because of the characters' respect for the animals they are are killing and eating, their lives and their place in the ecosystem, and the ways that humans both fuck up ecosystems with extraction and tourism, but also the ways that you can have reciprocal relationships of responsibility and care with the ecosystem you live in, even if it's considered a dangerous one. (Fantasy, manga series)

Stories of Your Life and Others by Ted Chiang and How Long 'Til Black Future Month by N. K. Jemisin and Everyone on the Moon is Essential Personnel by Julian K. Jarboe - Short story anthologies that were SO good and SO weird and rewired the way I think. If you want the kind of stuff that is like, the opposite of easy-to-digest feel-good pap, these short stories will get into your brain and make you consider stuff and look at the world from new angles. Most of them aren't particularly upbeat, but there's a lot of variety in the moods.

"Homecoming is Just Another Word for the Sublimation of the Self," "Calf Cleaving in the Benthic Black," and "Termination Stories for the Cyberpunk Dystopia Protagonist" by Isabel J. Kim - Short stories, sci-fi mostly, that twist around in my head and make me think. Kim is very good at that. Also about choices and not-making-choices, about going and staying, about taking the easy route or the hard one, about controlling the narrative.

The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells - Security robot with guns in its arms hacks itself free from its oppressive company, mostly wants to half-ass its job but gets sucked into drama, intrigue, and caring against its better judgement. This is on here because 1) I love it 2) I feel like it does for me what cozy sff so frequently fails to do - it makes me feel seen and comforted. It's hopeful and compassionate and about personal growth and finding community and finding one's place in the world, without brushing aside all problems or acting like "everybody effortlessly just gets along" is a meaningful proposal. also 3) because it is one of the few times I have yet seen characters from a hippie, pacifistic, eco-friendly, welcoming, utopian society actually act like people. The humans from Preservation are friendly, helpful, and motivated by truth and justice and compassion, because they come from a friendly, just, compassionate society, and they still actually act like real human beings with different personalities and conflicting opinions and poor reactions to stress and anger and frustration and fear and the whole range of human emotions rather than bland niceness. Also 4) I love it (space sci-fi, novella series mostly)

[serpentface]

Four culturally significant aquatic birds in Imperial Wardin- the skimmer gull, the albatross, the reed duck, and the hespaean.

The skimmer gull is a small seabird, distinguished by bright red beaks and a single, trailing tail plume. These are sacred and beloved animals with a long history of symbiosis with local fishers. They will intentionally attract the attention of fishermen, bringing them to shoals of fish that are too deep below the surface for the birds to reach. They then will snatch fish fleeing or caught in the nets, and will often be directly fed by their human assistants in an act of gratitude. They benefit tremendously from their sacred status and a taboo against killing or harming them, and can become absolute food-stealing menaces in seaside towns and cities.

The albatross is a seasonal visitor to the region, with this population migrating to small rocky islands in the White Sea to breed. The specific species occurring in this region is on the smaller side, and has a pale pink beak and soft orange legs. Albatrosses are common characters in regional animal folktales (usually as foolish, romantic types), and sometimes appear in tales as shapeshifters, usually turning into young women who have tumultuous affairs with lonely sailors.

Skimmer gulls and albatross are the most sacred animals of Pelennaumache, the face of God which looks upon the ocean, the winds, storms, maritime trade, fisheries, and broader concepts of luck and the infliction and deflection of curses. Killing either of these birds is considered to bring about disastrous bad luck (unless in the context of a proper sacrifice, most commonly in rites to bless ships and/or sailors with good winds and against ill fortune). The eggs of skimmer-gulls are free game and considered delicacies, while the preciousness of the albatross' single egg clutch is recognized and their consumption is generally discouraged (this isn't to say it doesn't happen).

Feathers of rightly sacrificed albatross and skimmer gulls are minor holy relics (ESPECIALLY gull tail plumes), and considered to be the ultimate good luck charm. The fortuitous find of a shed feather can also impart good luck and can be very valuable (the birds are sometimes poached for their feathers, though fears of the consequences are enough that this poaching is limited in scope). You will often see wealthier people wearing the feathers in hats and headdress, and any seafaring vessel worth its salt should have at least one aboard.

Both birds are evoked in the apotropaic Skimmer-Woman motif (in practice it generally has albatross characteristics, though is sometimes depicted with the tail plume of the gull).

The hespaean is a very unusual bird with two distinct species native to the region, one found exclusively in the western Black river system and its estuaries, and one found in the eastern Brilla and Kannethod river systems. They have very small pointed teeth in their bills, a trait virtually unknown outside of the flightless, beakless classes of birds (most prominently qilik). Their wings are vestigial and virtually nonexistent (with only two bony spurs remaining). These birds are almost exclusively aquatic and do not normally emerge onto land (they cannot walk upright at all, and must push themselves on their bellies). The legs of the Black river hespean develop blue pigmentation from their diet (the brighter the blue, the better fed and healthier the bird), which are waved above the surface during elaborate courtship displays. Both species are known for their haunting, warbling cries (very much like a loon, but more of a howling noise that develops into a shrill warble).

Hespaean build their nests in dense beds of reeds or small, vegetation-heavy river islands that provide some protection from predators. They raise their young during the height of the dry season (when more nesting surfaces are available and they can feed their young with more concentrated fish populations), which is an image of hope and resiliency during harsh dry times and the promise of the river's eventual bounty.

It is known that hespaean used to be caught as chicks and raised to help people catch fish (with ropes around their necks to prevent them from swallowing their catch). This practice is now very rare in the Imperial Wardi cultural sphere (mostly still practiced by the Wogan people along the Kannethod river, to whom these birds are also venerated animals) and has been largely replaced with the import of domesticated cormorants from the Lowlands to the southeast (which are more easily trained and can Usually be trusted not to attempt to swallow their catch).

These birds require large rivers that flow year round and have healthy, dense fish stocks. The population is in decline and they are now relatively rare, largely due to development and overfishing around rivers (and on a much larger timescale, the region becoming drier and water levels more irregular, and their competition with more versatile freshwater tiviit).

The reed duck is a migratory freshwater duck whose coming heralds the beginning of the wet season. They come to mate along rivers and wetlands during the final stretches of the dry season, timing their eggs to hatch with the rise in water levels and growth of the vegetation and insects they feed on. They have striking red-brown and gray plumage and very little sexual dimorphism (though the male is somewhat brighter in color and the flesh around the bill turns bright red during the breeding season).

Reed ducks are not domesticated, but some populations are semi-tamed and encouraged to return to certain sites to breed (the riverside temple to Anaemache in Ephennos attracts a massive flock of the ducks every wet season, continually blessing it with their presence and coating its grounds in droppings), and these stocks are the primary source of sacrificial ducks and coveted shed feathers.

Hespaean and reed ducks are the most sacred animals of Anaemache, the Face of God which looks upon freshwater (particularly rivers), rains, seasonal flooding, fertile earth/seasonal fertility, and wild plant life.

The hespaean is representative of Anaemache as the River Itself and the river as a provider of fish. This association comes down to their all-seasons presence in the rivers, and their population density being a signal of a healthy, well-flowing river with good fish stocks. Lands adjacent to hespean territory is often the most reliable and bountiful for human subsistence.

The reed duck in particular is the most venerated sacred animal of Anaemache, as representatives of Anaemache as a Face of seasonal fertility. Its coming announces the return of the rains and seasonal flooding that the region's agriculture relies on, and their cycle of fertility closely matches the cycles of the rivers and that of the earth itself (with their new life emerging with rains, flooding, and new vegetation in the wet season). There is no prohibition on hunting reed ducks (though proper rites and respect are expected for a sacred animal), and their meat and eggs is said to support female fertility and a healthy pregnancy.

[ltwilliammowett]

The Mast

One of the most important elements of a ship are the masts, because this is where the sails are attached that serve to propel the ship.

History

The oldest evidence for the use of one solid masts comes from the Ubaid site H3 in Kuwait, which dates back to the second half of the sixth millennium BC. There, a clay disc was recovered from a sherd that appears to depict a reed boat with two masts.

A painted clay disc with a diameter of 6.5 cm from site H3 with a design reminiscent of a boat with two masts, second half of the sixth millennium BC

In the West, the concept of a vessel with more than one mast to increase speed under sail and improve sailing characteristics developed in the northern waters of the Mediterranean: the earliest foremast was identified on an Etruscan pyxis from Caere (Italy) from the middle of the 7th century BC: A warship with a furled mainsail attacks an enemy ship and sets a foresail. An Etruscan tomb painting from the period between 475 and 450 BC depicts a two-masted merchant ship with a large foresail on a slightly inclined foremast.

Tomb of the Ship, mid-5th century BC

An artemon (Greek for foresail), which is almost as large as the main sail of the galley, is found on a Corinthian krater as early as the late 6th century BC; otherwise, Greek longships are uniformly depicted without this sail until the 4th century BC. In the East, ancient Indian kingdoms such as the Kalinga are thought to have been built in the 2nd century BC. One of the earliest documented evidence of Indian sail construction is the mural of a three-masted ship in the caves of Ajanta, which is dated to 400-500 AD.

This Ajanta mural depicts an ancient Indian ship with high stem and stern and three oblong sails attached to three masts. Steering-oars can also be seen. Location: Cave No. 2, Ajanta Caves, Aurangabad District, Maharashtra state, India, 400-500 AD

The foremast was used quite frequently on Roman galleys, where, tilted at a 45° angle, it was more like a bowsprit, and the scaled-down foresail attached to it was apparently used as a steering aid rather than for propulsion. While most ancient evidence is iconographic in nature, the existence of foremasts can also be inferred archaeologically from slots in the foremast feet, which were too close to the bow for a mainsail.

Fragment of mosaic depicting "navis tesseraria", a messenger and police boat of the African fleet, 2nd century AD

The artemon, together with the mainsail and the topsail, developed into the standard rigging of seagoing vessels in the Imperial period, which was supplemented by a mizzen on the largest cargo ships. The first recorded three-masters were the huge Syracusia, a prestigious object commissioned by King Hiero II of Syracuse and developed by the polymath Archimedes around 240 BC, as well as other Syracusan merchant ships of the time. The imperial grain freighters that travelled on the routes between Alexandria and Rome also included three-masted ships. A mosaic in Ostia (around 200 AD) shows a freighter with a three-masted rig entering the harbour of Rome. Specialised ships could carry many more masts: Theophrastus (Hist. Plant. 5.8.2) reports that the Romans brought in Corsican timber on a huge raft propelled by up to fifty masts and sails.

Throughout antiquity, both the foresail and the mizzen were secondary in terms of sail size, although they were large enough to require full rigging. In late antiquity, the foremast lost most of its tilt and stood almost upright on some ships.

By the beginning of the early Middle Ages, rigging in Mediterranean shipping had changed fundamentally: The spars, which had long since developed on smaller Greco-Roman ships, replaced the square sail, the most important type of sail in antiquity, which had virtually disappeared from the records by the fourteenth century (while remaining predominant in northern Europe). The dromon, the rowed bireme of the Byzantine fleet, almost certainly had two masts, a larger foremast and one amidships. Their length is estimated at 12 metres and 8 metres respectively, somewhat less than that of the Sicilian war galleys of the time.

Multi-masted sailing ships were reintroduced to the Mediterranean in the late Middle Ages. Large ships became more common and the need for additional masts to steer these ships appropriately grew with the increase in tonnage. Unlike in antiquity, the mizzen mast was introduced on medieval two-masted ships earlier than the foremast, a process that can be traced back to the mid-14th century based on visual material from Venice and Barcelona. To equalise the sail plan, the next obvious step was the addition of a mast in front of the main mast, which first appears in a Catalan ink drawing from 1409. With the establishment of the three-masted ship, propelled by square sails and battens and steered by the pivot-and-piston rudder, all the advanced ship technology required for the great transoceanic voyages was in place by the early 15th century.

In the 16th century, the cross-section of the masts was made up of several pieces of wood and held together with ropes and iron rings.

A lower mast with sections from 1773 to 1800

In order to achieve a greater height, the lower mast is extended, so that a total length of up to 60 metres can be achieved, measured from the keel. From lowest to highest, these were called: lower, top, topgallant, and royal masts. Giving the lower sections sufficient thickness necessitated building them up from separate pieces of wood. Such a section was known as a made mast, as opposed to sections formed from single pieces of timber, which were known as pole masts.

This is a section of HMS Victory's main mast

The forces of the sails on the mast construction are transferred to the hull construction by standing and running rigging, forwards and aft (stern) by stays, and laterally by shrouds or guys. In order to enable sailors to climb up into the rigging, which is particularly necessary for the operation of square riggers, rat lines are knotted into the shrouds like rungs of a ladder. The upper end of a ship's mast is called the masthead.

Mounting

The mast either stands in the mast track on the keel and is passed through the deck or it stands directly on deck. In the first case, the opening must be neatly sealed with a mast collar, otherwise water will penetrate into the living quarters. If the mast is on deck, it must be supported from below on the keel so that the loads do not bend the deck. Practically every sailing ship therefore has a more or less visible vertical support through the cabin.

Masts are usually supported by the standing rigging. The shrouds pull the mast downwards with several times its own weight and thus prevent it from tipping over.

Traditionally, when a sailing ship is built, one or more coins are placed under the mast as a lucky charm (according to my theory, the coins were also used as money to pay Charon the ferryman in the underworld if the ship sank); this custom is still practised today. Just as a horseshoe was nailed to the mast to bring good luck.

Mast types

For square-sail carrying ships, masts in their standard names in bow to stern (front to back) order, are:

Sprit topmast: a small mast set on the end of the bowsprit (discontinued after the early 18th century); not usually counted as a mast, however, when identifying a ship as "two-masted" or "three-masted"

Fore-mast: the mast nearest the bow, or the mast forward of the main-mast. As it is the furthest afore, it may be rigged to the bowsprit. Sections: fore-mast lower, fore topmast, fore topgallant mast

Main-mast: the tallest mast, usually located near the center of the ship Sections: main-mast lower, main topmast, main topgallant mast, royal mast (if fitted)

Mizzen-mast: the aft-most mast. Typically shorter than the fore-mast. Sections: mizzen-mast lower, mizzen topmast, mizzen topgallant mast

Some names given to masts in ships carrying other types of rig (where the naming is less standardised) are:

Bonaventure mizzen: the fourth mast on larger 16th-century galleons, typically lateen-rigged and shorter than the main mizzen.

Jigger-mast: typically, where it is the shortest, the aftmost mast on vessels with more than three masts. Sections: jigger-mast lower, jigger topmast, jigger topgallant mast

When a vessel has two masts, as a general rule, the main mast is the one setting the largest sail. Therefore, in a brig, the forward mast is the foremast and the after mast is the mainmast. In a schooner with two masts, even if the masts are of the same height, the after one usually carries a larger sail (because a longer boom can be used), so the after mast is the mainmast. This contrasts with a ketch or a yawl, where the after mast, and its principal sail, is clearly the smaller of the two, so the terminology is (from forward) mainmast and mizzen. (In a yawl, the term "jigger" is occasionally used for the aftermast.)

Some two-masted luggers have a fore-mast and a mizzen-mast – there is no main-mast. This is because these traditional types used to have three masts, but it was found convenient to dispense with the main-mast and carry larger sails on the remaining masts. This gave more working room, particularly on fishing vessels.

Cock, John. A treatise on mast-making , 1840.

Fincham, John. A Treatise on Masting Ships and Mast Making , 1854. Kipping, Robert. Rudimentary treatise on masting, mast-making, and rigging of ships , 1864.

Steel, David The Elements and Practice of Rigging, Seamanship, and Naval Tactics, Including Sail Making, Mast Making, and Gunnery , 1821.

Steel, David. Steel's Elements Of Mast-making, Sail-making and Rigging , 1794.

Layton, Cyril Walter Thomas, Peter Clissold, and A. G. W. Miller. Dictionary of nautical words and terms. Brown, Son & Ferguson, 1973.

Harland, John. Seamanship in the Age of Sail,1992

Marquardt, Karl Heinz, Bemastung und Takelung von Schiffen des 18. Jahrhunderts, 1986

[yatagarasuhonyaku]

The Raven of the Empty Coffin: Prologue

Disclaimer: This is a fan-translation japanese-english of the original novel. The events of this novel follow after what's already covered by the anime. For an easier understanding, I recommend first reading the few scenes of previous books I've already translated.

Blog version

⊛　　　　　⊛　　　　　 ⊛

As the outer(1) books say: you shall know of the unbending reed in a gale, learn of the perennial tree in the heavy frost, and observe the great mountain in the storm.

Understand the strength of the grass that will not bend when the gale blows, of the tree that will not yield even when the frost falls, of the mountain that will not collapse when the storm rages.

In a peaceful land, many are those whose loyalty is no more than empty words; and few are the ones who act to prove their fealty in times of upheaval. It is only in troubled times when those truly loyal first become apparent.

Hence, I shall concede this place the name of Unbending Reed Monastery, as it is to become the place of learning for those in possession of genuine loyalty.

“The Golden Raven(2) Bestowing Unbending Reed Monastery Its Name”, from “Chronicles of the Temples of Yamauchi”

Prologue

“Hey, have you heard? It sounds like an unbelievable ‘monster’ is joining us this year.”

The rumors first reached him in the morning, the very same day the new trainees were scheduled to arrive.

“What do you mean by ‘monster’?”

“As in someone strong?”

Faced with the questions of a skeptical breakfast-eating crowd, the rumormonger answered. “That much I can’t say, but he seems to be the son of a very distinguished family. He outranks everyone here at the Monastery for sure.”

Oh, no wonder then, was the immediate general consensus. Nobody around the haphazardly placed four-legged trays, filled with an assortment of food, seemed to question it any further.

“I was thinking that the people from the Center seemed weirdly nervous lately. So that was the reason, huh.”

“Well, if they mess things up, they're going to lose all their privileges to the newcomer.”

“Eh, not like they need to mess anything up for that, you know? There’s no way they’ll be able to push people around anymore, not like they did before at least.” After all, they didn't have any talent whatsoever beyond their social status. Assuming a student with a higher rank did actually arrive, it would force them into paying court to him instead. 

“Ridiculous,” Ichiryuu spat out in a low voice, in quite the contrast to his fellow students’ excitement. He had been listening with great interest at first, curious about this ‘unbelievable monster’, but in the end it was all complete rubbish. 

“What's wrong, Ichiryuu?” One of his friends, who had somehow heard him complain, turned to him and asked.

Ichiryuu made a show out of snorting.

“As far as we know, the only thing he has going for him is his rank. To call someone like that a ‘monster’? It makes me laugh. We are warriors,” he added, a frown on his face as he looked around the room, “no matter how high your birth, it means nothing if you lack the skill with a sword. We really should leave the ‘monster’ talk for when we see his performance at the dojo.”

The Unbending Reed Monastery, the institution Ichiryuu and the others belonged to, was the training facility for the Yamauchi Guard: the organization in charge of protecting the Imperial Family. 

The role of commanding the country and leading the Yatagarasu fell on the Golden Raven, who took residence in Central Mountain and the Imperial Court built inside of it, and protecting the Mountain and its surroundings from any harm was the job of the Feather Grove Heavenly Hosts(3).

Meanwhile, the Yamauchi Guard’s one and only job was to keep the Imperial Family—the Golden Raven's relatives—safe. Furthermore, while the Feather Grove had a Great General at the top, the Yamauchi Guard only took direct orders from the Imperial Family members they personally served.

The Guard was an elite organization; its warriors’ skill was leagues above the rest. As the position did of course come with matching privileges, it was stipulated that all members had to overcome the harsh training of the Unbending Reed Monastery. Your social status did not matter, only talent was required— at least in theory. A long time had passed since the last time that had actually been true.

Ichiryuu's words were born out of frustration towards his fellow trainees’ obsession with bloodlines. The other trainees, however, looked at him as if he had just grown three heads.

“What’s up with him? Did he eat something bad from the ground?”

“No, no, you got it wrong. He wants to be the cool senior, you see, so he's putting on airs already.”

“Just let him be,” people concluded in whispers, just loud enough for Ichiryuu to hear it all.

“You little—” Ichiryuu moved as if to stand up, but he was cut short by the rumormonger, who had just raised both his arms.

“Now, now, calm down, Ichiryuu. I wouldn't call someone a monster either just because they have high status. I have another good reason,” he said with a knowing smile. “Apparently, this newcomer was Wakamiya's close aide before this.”

“Wakamiya's close aide!?”

“Wait, is that true?”

“Now that's amazing!”

The trainees, their eyes wide open, started a ruckus. Wakamiya was the title of the Crown Prince, referring to the man that would one day shoulder all of Yamauchi. To be his close aide was a near guarantee to become one of the next Golven Raven's close advisers and hence seize power in the Imperial Court in the future. There was no mistaking it: this ‘monster' had one of the brightest futures possible for all Yatagarasu already promised to him.

“...... But, isn't that weird? He could have just joined the Imperial Court directly, why bother to come to the Monastery of all places?” someone said, skeptical.

Ichiryuu found himself frowning. As the Imperial Court stood at the moment, the On'i System was there to guarantee a rank fitting to their birthright for any noble. If Wakamiya had grown fond of someone with a low enough status then, yes, it would make some sense to send him to the Monastery so he could get a promotion through official means. However, this rumored ‘monster’ was supposed to be from the high nobility.

“Apparently, His Highness said that using the On'i System would be a waste of his talents, or something like that.”

“Really? It’s not like there’s any guarantee he'll even manage to graduate from the Monastery.”

The trainees, who knew better than anyone how brutal training at the Unbending Reed Monastery was, all exchanged glances at once.

“Well, there’s no way for us to know right now. No matter how talented they say he is, that's just by the standards of a Central Noble, am I wrong?”

“But, if the rumors are true and he has both the physical strength and the status, then that's truly a total monster.”

“Whatever, we should be fine as long as he isn't some snotty ass brat.”

While Ichiryuu's fellow trainees were all busy discussing the news animatedly, he stayed silent, too busy ruminating on the information he had just been given. The young son of an important noble family, and Wakamiya's close aide. He could have been given a high rank at the Court with no effort whatsoever, yet he still chose to come to Unbending Reed Monastery. Plus, he was young enough to join in the first place.

With a soft thump, the face of a certain boy came to mind.

——No. It couldn't be him, right?

After a moment, Ichiryuu shook his head. It was impossible. He made a point to take that image, that devious smile hiding under an airheaded facade, off his mind. After all, that guy had said so, hadn't he? That there was no way he was attending the Monastery, that he had no plans to enter the Imperial Court. It was the exact reason Ichiryuu had chosen to become a trainee.

As if to shake off the terrible feeling that had just overcome him, Ichiryuu scarfed down the white rice that remained in his bowl.

After breakfast, his entire group went to the dojo. Spring Break was yet to end, so morning training wasn't mandatory. And so, after a few light drills between those who had come on their own, they all set off to the nearby watering hole to clean off their sweat.

Then, at that precise moment—

“Hey, a newcomer has already arrived!” A fellow trainee, who had gone slightly ahead of the rest, called to them. Ichiryuu's group raised their voices in excitement.

“He sure is fast.”

“Is he truly a newcomer?”

“Most likely yes, and he's coming by flying carriage.”

A mode of transportation only available to the high nobility, it was kept in the air by huge horses. This had to be it. The so-called ‘monster’ that had everyone talking in the morning. Upon this realization, the group started to rush over there. Ichiryuu was in less of a hurry, still incapable of shaking off that bad feeling about the ‘monster'. His steps were heavy as he took his time with each one.

By the time he, the very last one to arrive, finally caught up with the rest, his friends were all crammed behind the azalea bushes, getting a look at their junior.

“I see. He arrived early to move all his furniture.”

“Look at that, he’s bringing so much luggage. I only brought a wrapping cloth worth of stuff with me.”

“And look where he's going too, isn't that the newest dormitory room?”

“The instructors must have gone out of their way to keep him happy.”

As his friends kept on with the half-mocking, half-joking remarks, Ichiryuu was busy thinking. As far as he knew, the person he thought of as the potential ‘monster’ was not the kind to enjoy luxury. Yet, still with fear in his heart, Ichiryuu took a look over the others’ shoulders at the teenager in question.

He first saw his back, his shoulder raised all high and mighty under the cherry blossoms in full bloom. His outfit shined impressively under the sunlight: it was a deep red, covered in white embroidery.

The servants kept on carrying his luggage, but the boy didn't move: he simply stood there imposingly. Instead, he gave them instructions with his folding fan, dyed into a light purple gradient with gold leaf speckles all over. His hair was a glossy reddish brown and neatly brushed.

The boy then turned around to talk with the servants, and Ichiryuu finally caught sight of his face. He was handsome, more than anyone he had ever seen before. His skin was the color of newly blossomed white peonies under dusk, his big eyes shone like reflections on a pond, and his face was soft like that of a woman. The boy was not only beautiful, but also had clear charisma. He was the kind that drew people in naturally, overflowing with pride and confidence.

If one of those poets from the Court had been here, his beauty would have called for a poem or two.

Not like any of that mattered to Ichiryuu, who was too busy experiencing relief. The so-called ‘close aide’ standing there wasn't that guy. Thank goodness, it wasn't him! The second he realized, his mood immediately lifted as if it had never dropped in the first place. 

“What a face.”

“Well, nobles only take beauties as concubines, you see.”

“Dammit, wouldn’t it be nice if he fell on his face or something.”

Meanwhile, his friends were still watching the boy and whispering to each other. In stark contrast to them, however, Ichiryuu left the place behind with the lightest of hearts.

Once he had cleaned himself, Ichiryuu went on to his newly assigned dormitory room in the second building, tenth room. It would be his castle for the following year.

The trainees at Unbending Reed Monastery had to overcome three trials, one per year, through their education there. There was a proverb preserved in ancient documents that said as such: ‘you shall know of the unbending reed in a gale, learn of the perennial tree in the heavy frost, and observe the great mountain in the storm.’

It’s when the gales blow that the sturdy grass proves itself. The trees too prove their resilience by surviving the harsh frost, and so it's in times of genuine struggle that the truly strong become clear. The monastery based its trials on it, and thus they were referred to as the Trial of Gale, the Trial of Frost, and the Trial of Storm.

During their first year, trainees were referred to as Seeds(4), as they still had yet to even germinate. It was once they passed the Trial of Gale at the end of the year that they transitioned to Saplings. The Trial of Frost awaited them a year later, and those who managed to pass it would reach their last year and become Evergreens.

Although plenty of seeds sprout, few get to become fully grown trees. In this manner, very few trainees ever became Evergreens. On top of that, those Evergreens also had to overcome the harshest of the tests, the Trial of Storm, and get good enough results to even qualify for the Yamauchi Guard.

Of the three trainee categories, only Evergreens had their own individual rooms. Seeds and Saplings had to share one single tiny room in groups of three. In most cases, this meant one Sapling and two Seeds, with the Sapling in charge of the room, overseeing his juniors, and mentoring them about the fundamentals of life at the Monastery.

For the Seeds, this was a massive problem.

About half of the Seeds resigned every year without ever becoming Saplings and, while a part of the reason was the brutality of the Trial of Gale, social dynamics were often the actual cause. Ichiryuu considered himself fortunate in that regard, but even he struggled with it. To become a Sapling and not have to worry about the seniors’ mood had been a relief, and he was also looking forward to having juniors.

Being told he was ‘playing up the cool senior’ may have pissed him off, but thinking about it, there was some truth to it. Very soon, it would be time for his juniors to arrive in their shared room.

His nerves were fried, but in an attempt to look a bit more imposing to the newcomers, he chose to sit behind the desk at the back of the room. Finally, the surroundings became more lively, and he soon started to hear the rumble of anxiously chattering boys from the nearby rooms. Just as he was thinking about it, he sensed someone standing in front of the door.

“Excuse me, but is the senior of the tenth room already in the room?” someone said with a clear and booming voice. It was as if he had come to ask for a duel instead.

That caught Ichiryuu by surprise. He had expected a shaky, timid voice at the other side.

“Come in.” 

“Excuse me then,” the voice answered as soon as he gave permission.

And, at the same time, the door opened with a loud thud. On the other side, there was an oonyuudou(5)-like giant, barely even fitting within the door's frame. He paid no mind to a dumbfounded Ichiryuu and immediately attempted to enter the room, proceeding to slam his head against the lintel. The giant stood there wincing in pain for a second, but his expression quickly shifted to a shy smile as he knelt in front of Ichiryuu.

“It's an honor to meet you. My name is Shigemaru, and I'll be under your care here in the tenth room.”

Despite Shigemaru's flawless politeness, he was so big Ichiryuu still found himself looking up. He had healthy tanned skin, and his thick unkempt eyebrows looked like massive caterpillars. His imposing face was somehow countered by a round button nose and jet black eyes, which gave him a very gentle aura instead. He looked like a bear that had everything intimidating taken away from him and was, indeed, a perfectly pleasing young man.

“...... How old are you exactly?”

“Ah, I'll be 18 in two months.”

“Eight… teen.”

To enter the Unbending Reed Monastery, and to become a trainee, you had to be between 15 and 17 years old when joining. For the most part, the children of nobility joined as soon as they reached the minimum age possible, as if they had been waiting for the chance to do so. Those who joined at 17 were nearly always commoners.

Ichiryuu was the son of rural aristocracy so, like most others, he became a Seed at 15. Which put him in a strange situation: he was a senior to an older, much bigger junior. And, just like that, his initial dream of being the confident and dependable mentor to a nervous youth was utterly shattered.

Shigemaru was at least very polite and respectful, a small blessing, but, how to put it… he had something different in mind, something more innocent and pure.

“Ah, well, yes. I'm Ichiryuu, a Sapling. We'll be sharing a room this year, it's nice to meet you,” Ichiryuu said in a panic. He had completely forgotten to introduce himself until just then.

“Ah, yes, I know that much,” Shigemaru replied with a carefree smile, “I'm from Shimaki Township(6), you see. Rumors about the third son of our Lord have reached me before. You have become such a wonderful young man. As one of your subjects, I'm filled with pride.”

So he was from his homeland, which made things even harder for him.

As Ichiryuu was struggling to find a good answer, Shigemaru suddenly turned around to look at something behind him.

“You know him too, don't you?”

It was then that Ichiryuu finally realized the other newcomer was already there too, hidden behind Shigemaru's massive frame. He seemed to be quite tiny. Ichiryuu proceeded to try to fix his pose in a desperate attempt to look imposing, at least for this other one. That’s when he realized.

“Yes, of course.”

——That voice sounded terribly familiar for some reason.

“Of course we know each other, Ichiryuu and I are what one could even call childhood friends. Although, it may be impossible to treat him like before, now that he is our senior. I'm still glad I get to share a room with someone I can trust,” the boy said with a carefree laugh.

Just like that, as soon as he heard his voice, those memories—that he couldn’t forget despite himself—came back to haunt him. The pain ruthlessly inflicted onto him, the endless verbal abuse he went through. And, at the same time, an unflinching smile as if painted on his face and the shrill of that crazed laugh.

All of a sudden, the source of his nightmares leaned out of Shigemaru’s shadow.

His brown, soft-looking hair was held up in a ponytail. His face was quite nondescript, with nothing that truly struck one as characteristic. He looked completely harmless, but those terrifying, cunning eyes betrayed his true nature.

“Long time no see, Ichiryuu. Let me introduce myself again, I am Yukiya of Taruhi. Let’s get along from now on too,” the boy said with a bright smile on his lips.

Ichiryuu screamed in horror.

Next: Chapter 1 "Shigemaru" Part 1

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

1: The original term for Outer Books is 外書, which originally refers to ‘foreign books’ or non-buddhist books. Within the context of the setting and given similar terms used elsewhere, this refers to books written by humans outside Yamauchi.

2: After some consideration and for the sake of narrative clarity later on, all the Raven titles will be fully translated from now on. Those already introduced at this point in the novels are the Golden Raven (Emperor, Kin’u), Scarlet Raven (Empress, Seki’u) and White Raven (Head Priest, Haku’u).

3: The Feather Grove Heavenly Hosts (羽林天軍, read Urin Tengun) are very briefly referred to in The Golden Raven. They’re the Center Army and don’t concern themselves with imperial matters. Their General is always the Northern Lord, so they’re at present controlled by Yukiya’s grandfather: he is the one to send them out in reconnaissance during the Monkeys’ attack.

4: The original terms for Seed, Sapling and Evergreen are as follows: 荳児, using the kanji for bean and child; 草牙, grass and fang (it itself being one radical away from 芽, meaning bud); and 貞木, which is a word to refer to evergreen trees.

5: Oonyuudou are youkai from Japanese folklore, traditionally giants who look like buddhist monks. Given the setting, they may as well truly exist.

6: After much consideration, I’ve switched the term Village as the anime uses it with Township. Townships (郷) in Yamauchi are provinces within a specific Region. Every Region is divided into a total of three Townships, and the Township Lord governs and controls all villages within their territory. The Townships in the North are Shimaki, Taruhi and Shigure.

[whencyclopedia]

Ninigi

Ninigi-no-Mikoto, or simply Ninigi, is the grandson of the supreme Shinto deity Amaterasu, the sun goddess. He is the son of Ama-no-Oshiho-mimi and, descending to earth as the first just ruler, he brought with him gifts from Amaterasu as symbols of his authority which remain part of the Japanese imperial regalia today. Ninigi became the great-grandfather of Japan's first emperor, the semi-legendary Emperor Jimmu, and so established a divine link between all subsequent emperors and the gods.

Ninigi Descends from the Heavens

In Japanese mythology, the sun goddess Amaterasu Omikami asked her son Ama-no-Oshiho-mimi to descend from the heavens to rule the world of the mortals. Twice refusing this honour after seeing the general chaos that prevailed in the world, Ama-no-Oshiho-mimi nominated his son Ninigi-no-Mikoto (full name: Ame-Nigishi-Kuninigishi-Amatsu-hiko-no-ninigi-no-mikoto) to go in his place. To this Amaterasu finally agreed, and she gave Ningi three gifts to help him on his way. These were the Yasakani, a fabulous jewel (or pearls or magatama beads), source of the ancient quarrel between Amaterasu and her brother Susanoo, the storm god; the Yata, the mirror which had been made by the gods and successfully used to tempt Amaterasu out of the cave which she hid in following some typical bad behaviour from Susanoo; and Kusanagi, the great sword Susanoo had plucked from a monster's tail. These would become the three emblems of Ninigi's power (sanshu no jingi), and they became the imperial regalia of his descendants, the emperors of Japan, starting with his great-grandson Emperor Jimmu (r. 660-585 BCE). Thus, all subsequent emperors were able to claim a direct descent from the gods and so legitimise their authority to rule Japan.

The celebrated 7th-century CE poet Kakinomoto Hitomaro composed this poem on Ninigi's descent to govern humanity:

At the beginning of heaven and earth

The eight hundred, the thousand myriads of gods

Assembled in high council

On the shining beach of the Heavenly River,

Consigned the Government of the Heavens

Unto the Goddess Hirume , the Heaven-

Illuminating One,

And the government for all time,

As long as heaven and earth endured,

Of the Rice-abounding Land of Reed Plains

Unto her divine offspring,

Who, parting the eightfold clouds of the sky,

Made his godly descent upon the earth.

Manyoshi (Keene, 104-105)

Amaterasu also gave Ninigi some specific instructions regarding the Yata mirror: "Consider this mirror as thou wast wont to consider my soul, and honour it as myself" (Hackin, 395). Eventually, the mirror would indeed become an object of worship or shintai and end up in the Ise Grand Shrine in the Mie Prefecture, dedicated to Amaterasu and still today Japan's most important Shinto shrine.

Ninigi, carrying his three precious goods, and accompanied by three gods (including Ame-no-uzume, the dawn goddess, and Sarutahiko-no-kami, the god of crossroads) and five chiefs, landed on earth at the top of Mt. Takachiho, in the south of Kyushu. From there, after first building himself a palace, he went to the temple of Kasasa in Satsuma province where the five chiefs set about laying down the principles of the Shinto religion, creating a priesthood and organising the building of temples. The chiefs would pacify the land and establish the clans which would dominate Japanese government for centuries to come such as the Fujiwara clan. In this capacity, the five became the ancestral deities of these clans, the ujigami.

Continue reading...

[sunset-peril]

I booted up my copy of Breath of the Wild to wander around for an hour (since I actually finished my homework before 9pm)

And of course, being who I am, I was immediately slapped with a BotW-era HFS story about the first time Link enters Hateno Village.

Because I don't know if I ever mentioned: Reede and his family (Clavia and Karin) are the descendants of Link's sister, which makes them descendants of Link himself. They call him Grandpa/Grandpaw post-BotW once they learn who he is. (Zelda is just "Miss Zelda", so they're literally "Miss Zelda and Grandpaw"... but I digress)

ANYWAY

Karin, obviously quite young at this time (and probably not understanding the concept of a "lifespan"), recognizes Link from her great-grandmother's pre-Calamity photos and rushes to tell her mom and dad that Grandpa's finally returned home.

Of course, Reede (not having met Link) dismisses the idea like we all would. After all, Grandpa died 100 years ago. It's just a traveler.

But Karin's torn between the photos and Link. She knows that she knows him, even if her father doesn't believe her.

And then Reede meets Link.

And the seeds his daughter planted in his brain nearly consume him. There's no way that's him, but how could it not be?

[forgottenroderick]

OOC | The Twelve Conquered Kingdoms & the Formal Style of the Emperor

antilla -- HOUSE OF RODERICK'S STEPMAMA, im sort of picturing a spain/portugal mashup || taken from a medieval iberian legend abt a mystical land founded by some visigothic bishop (antillia)

vinetta – think lithuania, latvia, poland, germany, etc || a mythical city at the edge of the baltic sea (vineta)

kvenheim – i was sort of envisioning norse scandinavia || the icy otherworld which the forst giants rule meets a mysterious lost island from medieval and norse legend (kvenland + jotunheim)

kolchis -- HOME OF HOUSE CALAINON, think medieval byzantium/greece || taken from greek mythology, the homeland of medea, the golden fleece, and the cholchean dragon (cholchis)

malakarta – the sun-soaked deserts of the middle east || an invisible realm meets the toll house located between the realm of light and the earth (malakut + matarta)

aarnu -- think egypt: a fertile river running through vast deserts || also known as the field of reeds, the sacred paradise ruled by osiris (aaru)

argadara – a whole country of vast mountains in the fantasy!himalayas || a legendary land located at the core of the earth meets a sacred mountain in the puranas (agartha + mount mandara)

xangadu – the most hospitable part of china basically -- their governing body was called a blogring ;D jk jk no but fr s/o to xanga rip || the mythologized summer capitol of kublai khan, used to represent opulence and splendor (xangdu/xanadu)

aotepo -- sort of pictured a chain of tropical islands! which is also interesting bc i feel like roderick's navy is kinda. ehhh so they def got a work out w this one! def think this was one of the more recent conquests too! || the polynesian realm of light meets its realm of darkness and the ancestors (ao + te po)

alytar – HOME OF HOUSE VASILIEVA, think medieval russia || taken from slavic myth where it is the navel of the earth, a rocky and sacred place, marked w ancient runes and endowed with healing powers (alatyr)

affaraon -- tis scotland ;D and, as such, i was thinking this was possibly a neighbor to astaira? || also known as the immortal land and the 'city of higher powers,' and the 'ambrosial city,' it is the legendary home of a sect of druids dedicated to metallugry and alchemy and is said to be located somewhere in scotland (dinas affaraon/ffaraon)

astaira -- HOME OF HOUSE STAFFORD, &c.

you will note that the og varmont nation is not included on this list, and that is purely bc he did not conquer it but, rather, inherited it. also, except for kolchis and astaira, ofc, these are all place holder names but [ i stole most of them from world mythologlies ] and sort of jostled them about a bit: for exmaple, xanadu aka xangdu is now XANGAdu for reasons ;DDD

INFORMAL STYLE OF THE TRUE EMPEROR

His Imperial Majesty, Roderick the First of His Name, by the Grace of the One True God, of the Great and Holy Empire of [Varmont] and Astaira and of His other Realms and Territories One True Emperor, Conquer of the Twelve Kingdoms, Defender of the Faith, and God’s Own Champion

FORMAL STYLE OF THE TRUE EMPEROR

His Imperial Majesty, Roderick the First of His Name, by the Grace of the One True God, of [Varmont], and of Antillia, Kolchis, Alatyr, Aarnu, Vinetta, Kvenheim, Aotepo, Argadara, Xangadu, Malakarta, Affaraon, and Astaira, and of his Dominions beyond the Seas, One True Emperor, Protector of Vyrajj, God-King of Kolchis, Archduke of the Two Isles and of the Shimmering Seas Overlord, King-Elector of the Astairans, Lord of the Two Lands, Sun-King of the Hauren, Divine Emperor of the Iddenese, the Freefolk, and the Cockaignians, Evenstar of Astaira*, Conqueror of the Twelve Kingdoms, Defender of the Faith, and God's Own Champion

*i hc that that's just the title of the ~lord of stafford~ but roderick still isn't quite taking in the whole premise of elected kings and so he's like 'obv that is the title of the ruler of astaira' and...its not so astairans hear this and they just like 'why that one county??? and why not malconaire or lorcan or smth too?? but ok' alkdjfkljdsf bc i love to laugh at roderick

[lordcaptains]

The sun of Quetza Temer had beaten down on them all day, blinding shafts of light splashing onto the forest floor around them as they made their way through the shadowed jungle. Now, as they emerged into a clearing, it hung low in the sky like a blister, swollen and inflamed, its red light streaking the sky like a spreading infection.

The clearing had once been the site of an Imperial camp. A maze of barricades littered the grass, soft patches of colorful moss sprouting from the cracked plasteel panels. In the center, a pile of storage cannisters re-purposed as coffins spilled their bones onto the weed-choked earth. On one side, a river rushed past, reeds swaying along sandy shoals amidst the crystal clear water. Along the other ran a shallow ridge, into which a sturdy bunker had been built.

Calligos approached it and rapped a knuckle against the closed doors, dislodging a shower of rain-caked dirt. "Too bad we can't get inside. This would make a fine place to camp for the evening." He grinned wolfishly at his fellow Rogue Trader. "For you, of course, new blood. I welcome another night spent under the stars!”

Orica came up to stand beside him. She seemed to ignore his bravado, instead studying the structure in front of them. "Some shelter would be nice." She shrugged off her pack, rummaging through the supplies inside, and pulled out a crowbar. Pressing it into the seam between the doors, she braced herself, took a deep breath, and levered it back.

At first, nothing happened. Calligos opened his mouth as if to speak -

With a heavy clunk, the ancient mechanisms reluctantly yielded, and the door opened just a crack. She pried it open a bit farther, slipped one arm into the gap to hold it open, and turned.

"Heinrix?" She looked to him so easily, so readily, so often - even now, with Calligos beside her. He took the crowbar from her, and she smiled at him in thanks.

Orica had shed her jacket long ago, and the thin shirt beneath was soaked with sweat, plastered to her skin. It allowed a ready view of the muscles beneath as she grabbed the edges of both doors and began to force them apart.

Gears groaned in protest as the doors ground along their rusty tracks. Metal screeched against metal, and a flock of birds was startled into flight at the clearing’s edge. The muscles of her arms and back flexed as she took the strain. A chirurgeon could have used the sight to draw a fine anatomical chart.

Still, for a moment, it seemed as though the bunker might not yield.

Orica’s arms were shaking now, but she didn't stop. With a final burst of effort, she flung her arms apart, and the doors slammed open, sliding back into their recesses in the wall.

She stood there for a moment, shoulders heaving as she caught her breath, then wiped her arm across her forehead.

"There."

Calligos looked her up and down with a fresh glint in his eyes. "Impressive, new blood."

At his sides, Heinrix felt his hands clench into fists.

[hooked-on-elvis]

"It's Still Here" (1973)

Recorded on May 19, 1971 at RCA’s Studio B, Nashville, TN. Released on July 16, 1973. Album: Elvis (Fool)

MUSICIANS Piano: Elvis Presley, Bass: Norbert Putnam. * The complete recording of “It’s Still Here” runs 4:40, including a breakdown in the middle of the take; it was edited down to 2:05 for the initial master.

--

RECORDING SESSION Studio Session for RCA May 15–21, 1971: RCA’s Studio B, Nashville On the night of May 15 RCA’s Studio B had been decorated for an early Christmas. A tree with beautifully wrapped empty boxes stood in the center of the room, but Elvis brought real gifts for the musicians and his own associates — gold bracelets engraved “Elvis '71.” All the players from the June 1970 sessions were back, and again there were no backup singers present. With no personnel changes and as few distractions as possible, Felton expected to be able to get all of Elvis’s recording done in short order and save all the sweetening for later. BACKSTORY: The studio was decorated for Christmas in May most likely to create the right mood for the musicians - specially to inspire Elvis himself, since everybody knew how much of a Christmas enthusiast he was. During that session they would cut songs that would be release in the same year, 1971, on the then upcoming album "Elvis Sings The Wonderful World Of Christmas", as well as begin to record songs for the following albums - a contemporary music album and a gospel album. The Christmas decoration might have helped but fact is Elvis was in a great mood during those May recording sessions, cheerfully joking with everybody in the studio, even showing off his karate skills, while keeping himself seriously engaged in doing his best work, specially with the religious songs. His light mood is quite intriguing since what happened to him a little time prior to that recording session. During a recording session on March 15-16th 1971, Elvis felt a striking pain on his eye and left to see a doctor, ending up being diagnosed with glaucoma.

Excerpt from book "Elvis What Happened" by Red West, Dave Hebler and Sonny West as told to Steve Dunleavy (1977).

Elvis leaving an eye doctor's office in Beverly Hills sometime in late 1971.

That year, 1971, was the beginning for the dark sunglasses era. Elvis took it all lightly, joking around with people about his serious health condition. One of those people was Kathy Westmoreland, to whom Elvis said, after showing her his collection of sun glasses:

"If I have to wear the damn things," Elvis smiled, making fun of himself, "I'm gonna have one in every color." Excerpt from "Elvis and Kathy" by Kathy Westmoreland (1987).

After the brief hospitalization and the emergency eye treatment, Elvis got right back into the recording studio in Nashville considerably fast.

— A LITTLE BIT OF THE RECORDING SESSION ON MAY 19, 1971 WHEN "IT’S STILL HERE" WAS RECORDED: During the day Elvis slept, but for most of the members of the band it was business as usual—sessions all morning and afternoon. When they came back to work nights with Elvis, Felton had an unwritten rule prohibiting anyone from yawning in the studio—for fear that it might “bring down” his star—and he insisted that the musicians take their breaks in the parking lot. And even Elvis made a trip to their “outdoor lounge” when he became bogged down in “Seeing Is Believing,” a new tune Red West had just frantically completed. Otherwise, though, he kept focused throughout the evening, actively directing the band, patiently discussing the backing parts with the female singers. Jerry Reed’s “A Thing Called Love” was completed with an elaborate vocal arrangement that featured bass singer Armond Morales in a unison part with Elvis throughout the song. References to the previous evening’s gunplay were flying, and after a while Elvis noticed how upset the Imperials became whenever he struck a karate pose. It was another night of good-humored ad-libbing. “He left the splendor of RCA—of Victor,” he sang self-referentially after one verse of “Listen To The Bells”; “went back to Sun Records. …” The next take of “A Thing Called Love” collapsed, and Felton as always deflected blame from Elvis onto the newcomer, Joe Moscheo. But Elvis, ever gracious when he was in good spirits, just changed the opening line of the song from “Six foot six, he stood on the ground” to “Three foot four …” and dedicated the song to Charlie Hodge. After the meal break the atmosphere changed. Determined to capture the mood he achieved while performing at home, Elvis sat down at the piano for an impassioned yet unassuming solo set. Two of the three songs he chose had been favorites as far back as his days in Germany: “I’ll Take You Home Again Kathleen” and Ivory Joe Hunter’s “I Will Be True,” both of which he’d recorded on his home equipment in Bad Nauheim. This old material was hardly what Felton or RCA were looking for in an Elvis session, but Al Pachucki was ready with the tapes rolling just the same. The most moving of the three was another Ivory Joe Hunter song, “It’s Still Here,” but later Felton excitedly reported to the Colonel that with overdubs they all would make “great tunes,” keen to convince both Elvis and his manager of their commercial potential.

Excerpt: "Elvis Presley, A Life in Music: The Complete Recording Sessions" by Ernst Jorgensen. Foreword by Peter Guralnick (1998)

AFTERMATH Five albums were out a while before the "Elvis (Fool)" album could be released in 1973. Following the 1971 Christmas album was the contemporary music album, "Elvis Now", and then the gospel album "He Touched Me" preceding two live record releases, the "Elvis: As Recorded At Madison Square Garden" (1972) and the "Aloha From Hawaii Via Satellite" (1973) albums, and just then the "Elvis (Fool)" album was made by putting together songs recorded during the May 1971 recording session as well as songs taped during recording sessions in February-March 1972.

"IT'S STILL HERE" — LYRICS Songwriter: Ivory Joe Hunter The day you said we'd never part You turned around and broke my heart You had the nerve to tell me I would soon forget Now you've been gone away one year And I have not forgotten dear The love I had for you so long Is still here Wow-oh It's here, still here Because my heart cannot believe We're really through And though you said we'd never part You turned around and broke my heart The love I had for you so long Is still here It's here, still here Because my heart cannot believe We're really through Now you've been gone away one year And I have not forgotten dear The love I had for you so long Is still here Wow-oh It's here, it's here, still here Because my heart cannot believe We're really through And though you said we'd never part You turned around and broke my heart The love I had for you so long Is still here Wow-ow It's here, still here Because my heart cannot believe We're really through And though you said we'd never part You turned around and broke my heart The love I had for you so long Is still here Oh yeah

UNEDITED MASTER (4:45)

ORIGINAL RECORDING Ivory Joe Hunter (1968)

[serpentface]

Hibrides at the annual Rites to Anaemache on the Brilla River, checking to make sure she's doing this right. (Feat. a rather docile captive-bred leucistic hespaean, which has no fucking idea that it's a valuable offering and is about to die).

The hand position here is one of three key gestures against evil, a basic method of self-purification that can dispel minor evils, in this case being used to purify oneself before entering the sanctified riverbank.

Under normal conditions, yearly festivals are held during the peak of the dry season throughout Imperial Wardin, taking place at one or more temples to Anaemache that can be found on the banks of each major river. Anaemache is the Face of God that looks upon fresh water, rivers, rains, seasonal flooding, cyclic fertility, fertility of wild plants, the fertility of crops, female fertility, and pregnancies.

The rites have a set date at each temple (which may differ across the region due to variance in the average timing of the wet season), and take place over a full day, from one sunrise to the next.

The rites have a dual function. It takes place at the height of the dry season to encourage the return of the rains and the health of the river via the mass offerings that occur, and to impart Anaemache's blessings onto attendants. Most attendees are women, though farmers and other agricultural laborers will often attend regardless of gender. It is considered ideal for all women of marriageable age (a category which includes young girls who have reached menarche) to attend yearly to ensure their fertility, but this often lengthy journey is impractical for the average person to take every year, and in practice most women who attend for personal fertility matters are those who are pregnant or actively seeking pregnancy.

Most bring offerings to the river, the most basic of which can be grains, fruits, spices, or flowers (it must be a seasonal growth, ideally one that requires the rains to occur), and the best of which are sacred animals to Anaemache such as the reed duck or hespaean. Sacrificial stock vendors will often set up camp near the river temples (though are banned from temple grounds) at this time of year to hawk live animals to pilgrims, which can be a very lucrative job when done correctly. Other vendors will sell dried flowers, grains, spices and fruit for the same purposes (a less lucrative but often more stable job).

Offerings of plant matter are cast into the river directly by the pilgrims, while animal offerings are brought to a temple priest (usually set up downriver to the rest of the crowd, they must remain in the river from the start of the rites to the end) to be properly sacrificed. The animal must first be blessed and invoked as Anaemache Itself (as it is replicating God's sacrifice in creation and becomes It at the moment of death). The act is done with a quick and deep slice across the throat, allowing all of the blood to flow directly into the river. A priest will anoint the offerer's tongue with a single droplet- the animal has become the River Face of God and its blood imparts a strong blessing, taken into the body for the effects to become physical and binding.

Important parts of the sanctified body are removed for use among the temple priesthood (in this case, mostly feathers), and the rest of the corpse is placed on a continuously maintained pyre to be burned. The ashes will be collected and scattered into the river after sunrise to mark the end of the rite.

Sacrificial river animals are liable to escape into the river when brought en-masse, and one that does is considered to have been spared and blessed by Anaemache and will be left alone. Populations of water birds around these temples will often display striking and unusual coloration due to genetic input from escaped domestic/captive bred animals.

Regardless of what one offers, the offering must be made before the offerer touches the water. The participant will then remove some or most of their clothing (the minimum is shoes, the maximum is everything BUT underwear- full genital-baring nudity is socially problematic and metaphysically vulnerable when in public, and thus avoided) and enter the water. One should ideally fully submerge themself, but touching the silt with bare feet is adequate. It is then that the participants say their prayers and ask for any specific blessings- a pregnancy, the safe delivery of a child, a bountiful harvest, fruitful trees, clean drinking water, plentiful grazing, a good stock of fish, etc.

After one says their prayers and leaves the water, their part in the rite is over and they are free to go home, or alternatively stop by the celebrations that frequently crop up along the roads. In a good year, food and drink vendors, traders, the mass of pilgrims, and other opportunists will amass and form temporary mini-towns along the roadsides (or temporarily invade nearby villages), which can be excellent places to eat, drink and/or hook up.

Hibrides has shelled out a significant amount of money to a street sacrifice vendor for a near-perfect offering, to pray that she will be blessed with a healthy pregnancy and bear a boy, mostly so that she can be done having children. The rains have been inadequate (or have outright failed) for five years at this point, and the Brilla river is scarcely more than mud. God doesn't seem to be here at all. She doesn't have her hopes up.

[fantastic-nonsense]

As a follow-up to my previous ask, I was wondering if you have any recs for academic nonfiction (whether books or articles) about media studies/fandom history? I just read Textual Poachers by Henry Jenkins, but I’d love something more recent as well! 😁

Fandom history in general? Probably not, though I could go searching through my bookshelves later.

Comic history in general? Yeah, I've got loads of those. Note that all of these are about the American comic industry (and usually about cape comics). I have a few others about non-superhero books or non-American comic history, but most of my knowledge is American comics and thus, most of my recs are about American comics:

Seal of Approval: The History of the Comics Code, by Amy Kiste Nyberg

The Ten-Cent Plague: The Great Comic-Book Scare and How It Changed America, by David Hajdu

American Comics: A History, by Jeremy Dauber

Pulp Empire: The Secret History of Comic Book Imperialism, by Paul Hirsch

Comic Books and the Cold War, 1946-1962: Essays on Graphic Treatment of Communism, the Code and Social Concerns, edited by Chris and Rafiel York

Men of Tomorrow: Geeks, Gangsters, and the Birth of the Comic Book, by Gerard Jones

Slugfest: Inside the Epic, 50-year Battle between Marvel and DC, by Reed Tucker

75 Years Of DC Comics: The Art of Modern Mythmaking, by Paul Levitz and Benedikt Taschen (editors)

75 Years of Marvel: From the Golden Age to the Silver Screen, Benedikt Taschen (editor)

Marvel: The Untold Story, by Sean Howe

The Secret History of Wonder Woman, by Jill Lepore

Wonder Woman Unbound: The Curious History of the World's Most Famous Heroine, by Tim Hanley

"Seducing the Innocent: Fredric Wertham and the Falsifications That Helped Condemn Comics" by C.L. Tilley

"The Great Comic Book Heroes" by Jules Feiffer (Dial Press, 1965)

The documentary Secret Origin: The Story of DC Comics, Kevin Smith's interviews with Neal Adams, and random bits of history like Jack Kirby's interviews are probably the closest we're going to get to a DC equivalent of Marvel: The Untold Story for a long time.

For a little bit of comic fandom history, The Caped Crusade: Batman and the Rise of Nerd Culture by Glen Weldon is an interesting read.

I also have several articles that I've read and used for various papers I've written over the years, but I'll have to go dig through them to find ones that might interest you.