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leechonspeeddial · 3 years ago

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Midnight Shift: Singer's Blood

Summary: Something wicked might have come to the Burger King. Either that, or someone really needs deodorant

wc: 1.7k

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"And just like that? I'm in your game?"

"Eh, 'just like that' is like not it, Gucci, but basically. Yeah, dude," I watched as sprite mini-me walked all over the map — a pixelated version of East Laddle's last remaining Burger King, complete with a rat king decomposing in the parking lot and Not Kevin's monster of a car covering an old blood stain.

"Call me Gucci again and I'll burn down your secret edibles stash"

"Nah, dude. The invitation for your family's gala was written in gold, and the card was imported from France. I think I'm entitled, yeah?" I rolled my eyes and cursed as the date to Alice's stupid party drew to a close. Two more days before the humans unknowingly walked into a vampire lair.

It was cliché to say that I just wanted to be a normal kid, and there was a part of me that would be happy to explain everything I felt with the cliché. But I knew that wasn't it — spending a decade in high school made you realize how stifling normal could be. What I truly wanted was to be left alone; I was fed up of Alice treating my like one of her dolls and everyone enabling her. I was tired of having no thought that was truly for myself and Edward violating my privacy on a whim. It hurt to see Rosalie go from a doting mother to a distant figure when I no longer looked like a child, much like it hurt to see Bella see me as an extension of her beloved husband.

Being able to hear all of them have sex only made everything much worse.

"Whatever. Just show me my final boss form. You said your roommate was hardcore into Junji Ito"

"Alright, but we only have the concept art for it, though. Abby got super pissed at us for smoking her artisanal weed, so she's not like making the sprite until we get her more, 'kay?" Straight Kevin minimized the game and navigated through his discord server. I left him to his search so I could refill my mello yello; it was always a good shift when Gay Kevin and Not Kevin were away from the store. They were objectively entertaining men, but they also got a little too intense about work here. Neither would let us blow off work in favour of our personal projects.

Not since Wrestlemania Condimentalooza.

I slurped at my drink and absentmindedly wiped at the counter. Straight Kevin had his phone hooked to our sound system and he was blasting his playlist. His taste in music was…was one would call eclectic if one was feeling charitable – and boy, did I feel like I was making a million dollar donation. In the past hour alone, we had listened to swedish rap, some Nancy Sinatra, Blackpink, Tibetan throat singing, quebecois death metal, and Maroon 5.

Fucking Maroon 5.

But none of that compared to the song that was currently playing. It was less of an auditory experience, less of a musical treat, and more like being forcefully turned into a robot that was in the middle of short circuiting. Not only could you feel the beat, but you could see it too. It looked like flashing lights, and I was certain in that moment, that if it continued I would soon be able to taste sound.

And it was during that assault of my senses that I smelled it. Something unlike anything I had ever smelled before and an immeasurable sense of dread washed over me. The pit in my stomach felt like a black hole as I stood ramrod straight and saw a man I had never seen before enter the building alongside Jeremiah.

Nothing about him particularly stood out. He looked like any other white guy that just got out of the office. He was tall though, taller than anyone else here. Not unnaturally tall, mind you, but...something about his aura felt dangerous. I was on edge and no longer breathing, was this how it felt to be near il tuo cantante?

I made eye contact with the man and tried to place the smell, the flavour of it. It didn't taste enticing, if anything the rat king out back called to me more than the man did. But if this was what Bella smelled like when she was human, I had many questions for Edward.

"How's it hanging, Carrot top? Still working on that game, I see Shaggy," Jerimiah appeared oblivious of my behavior. Then again, glaring to our customers wasn't uncommon for me.

I looked away from the man and I saw Jerimiah set up a chess game on his table. Oh no.

"My man C.J. here is buying me lunch, so you can tell your anxious manager not to have a panic attack over more 'non-paying customers'"

"Nah, it's all cool, dude. Kev and Not Kev are on a supply run. Another of our suppliers dropped us like a hot potato"

"Cello beach, that's what they say, no?" Jeremiah shrugged and the man tilted his head.

"C'est la vie?" He questioned using a register of voice I had not expected. I hated it.

"Languages were never my thing. Math, now that's my jam," he dropped onto his chair and I decided I needed to clear my airways. I needed to get out of here.

Now.

"Kev, take their order. I'm going to deal with the raccoons"

I didn't even wait for a response before I hauled ass out of there. Luckily, I had enough self control to not vampire yeet myself.

Once outside I took a deep breath.

It was a deeply offensive smell, but at least it was a familiar one. Trash, raccoons, and decay, baby.

Though, on second breath. Way less raccoons than last week. Significantly less. Maybe Gay Kevin had finally bested them, which shame if true.

I leaned on the dumpster and tried to focus. It was important for me to figure out what the hell was going on, because damn if some paper pusher was the reason we left East Laddle. The Cullens would jump at the opportunity to decrease my autonomy if I ate some guy.

Which, yeah. Murder shouldn't be taken lightly, but I'd never be able to have as much freedom as I did now.

God, it'd be fucked. They'd make me go back to school and somehow rationalize that decision as a good one. Somehow surrounding me with hundreds of humans after murdering one would make sense because they'd be there to keep an eye on me...

I was getting sidetracked again, back to the matter at hand.

About three things I was absolutely positive. First, that man stank. Second, there was a part of me – and I didn’t know how potent that part might be – that wanted to murder him in cold blood. And third, I was deeply and irrationally terrified of him.

A trash can fell over with a loud clang and a empty jug of bleach rolled pass my feet. My eyes widened in realization – Jake had once told me that to him, the smell of vampires made his nose burn. It was an unpleasant odor that clung to everything a vampire touched. Similarly, Alice had gone on at length at how much she didn't like how the shifters smelled like.

The man didn't smell like a shifter, which only served to make me more uneasy. He clearly wasn't a vampire, his eyes were bright blue and I heard his heart beat, but my nose felt like burning back there.

The more I stood in our nearly empty garbage zone, the more questions I had. The last time I felt this level of terror, the freaking Volturi had crossed the Atlantic to personally execute me. It was horrifying.

And exciting. This was something new and unheard of, a break from the monotony of the past 15 years. I needed to solve this mystery and I needed to do it stat. Not only because this was potentially life threatening – and I didn't mean just the vampires, whatever that man was could be a danger to the whole town – but also because the moment the Cullens found out about it, we'd be out the Minnesota, nay, the States, before I could even think to protest.

I was so not letting the Cullens ruin this for me. This could be my Riverdale moment; Betty who? Resentment Cannibal was on the case.

...

Ok. That was a bit cringe, but fuck it. I walked back in to the building with a mission in mind. I also washed by hands with our heavy duty soap for at least 20 seconds.

"–that incident he got kicked from kitchen duties. Which sucked, cuz CJ has some wicked knife skills," Jeremiah's voice carried to the back of the kitchen and I mentally prepared myself to go back to ground zero.

"How didn't you notice the taste? Catfish smell so bad when you rupture their guts"

I walked to our registers just in time to see the man shrug. The chess game was still on going and they had pushed another table besides Jeremiah's to make space for the food. There was only one meal on the tray.

"You should have seen Tammy's face. She wanted to blow up so bad, but she couldn't because Susan was there," Jeremiah pitched his voice up and put on the worst British accent I had heard in my life, "'Oh, it's fine Mr. Singer. No big deal. Not a problem. Honest mistake. Happens to everyone!'"

He took a bite from his burger before continuing. "That woman is so gone on CJ it makes her look stupid."

The man made a face while Straight Kevin laughed.

"She isn't 'gone' on me"

"'Oh Mr. Singer, is that a new coat? Did you do something new with you hair, it looks spiffing! What a nice strong man you are,'" Straight Kevin dissolved into giggles while Jeremiah kept up his imitation. "You have to tell her your taken, man. For all of our sakes"

I stepped forward to join the conversation, when my phone blew up, vibrating as if its life depended on it. I would have ignore it, but the notifications just kept coming. The three men looked back at me.

Fuck.

I fumbled as I took the phone out from my pocket and I checked the messages, all of the Cullens had send me a text and they all said the same thing.

Family emergency. Alice had a vision. Come home.

Double fuck.

#twilight #twilight saga #twilight renaissance #my writing #midnight shift #renesmee cullen #twilight fanfiction

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kurowrites · 4 years ago

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So, I remembered that I promised to write about sokushinbutsu 即身仏 a little while ago. I’m trying to keep this short, because it gets complicated fast. Also I’m basically writing this all from memory, so don’t blame me for any inaccuracies.

Sokushinbutsu translates approximately to ‘becoming a Buddha in this very body.’ It was a mummification practice, but as the name might already suggest, its primary goal wasn’t the mummification of the body itself: it’s really about proof of enlightenment. Japan is not the only place to have a practice such as this. There exist numerous practices in regions where Buddhism is practiced, although I’m not sure whether these practices developed (at least partially) independently or not. In the case of Japan, there have been suggestions that Chinese Chan Buddhist practices did influence them. However, the center of practice of sokushinbutsu was Dewasanzan, and Dewasanzan technically belongs to the Shingon school, though the so-called Shugendō that they practice is extremely syncretic and a weird mixture of everything from Shintō to Daoism. Zen was only really introduced in Japan in the 12th century as a Buddhist school, by which time Shingon had already been established a few centuries.

Side note: I hate Buddhist schools. My brain starts to hurt if I even think about explaining this mess to the uninitiated.

Be that as it may, in Japan itself, one of the first mentions of a similar occurence was the ‘death’ of the monk Kūkai 空海 (774–835). Now Kūkai was a massive baller and had his fingers in practically every pie, not least of which was being the founder of the aforementioned Shingon school, which also happens to be one of the last remaining lines of esoteric Buddhism. Don’t ask me what that means, I WILL cry. To do so, he went to China and brought a ton of very smart texts back. And wrote a ton of very smart texts himself. In any time, when the time came for him to die, he was like, ‘wow, not for me, thx.’ He reportedly stopped eating and drinking and meditated in a cave on Mount Koya. According to legend, he never died, but entered a deep meditation and still remains in that cave to this day, awaiting the arrival of the future Buddha Maitreya (which is... going to take a while).

This story seems to have been quite popular, because it frequently appears in Buddhist-themed literature in the following centuries. During that same time, there are historical records of a number of monks and noblemen who either became mummies didn’t immediately start to decompose after death. Also, several cases of self-immolation, which, yikes. In any case, we have an established pattern here of people who had accumulated religious merit during their lifetime whose body did not decompose after death. You wanna thumb your nose at your archrival? You better make sure your body remains sweet-smelling and lovely after your death. Something something dying well is the best form of revenge, perhaps?

The sokushinbutsu themselves only appear much later, namely mainly during the Edo period (1603-1868). As mentioned, most of the practitioners were from Dewasanzan. The sokushinbutsu that still exist today can primarily be found in Niigata and the Tohoku region, which might suggest that local customs also had an influence, since Tohoku has always been culturally different from Kansai or Kanto. There is one known sokushinbutsu in Kyoto, though, I went to the cave where he’s still supposed to be entombed.

Now I can’t currently find my list of sokushinbutsu, but we actually know their names (well, their titles) and when they lived in nearly all cases. I think it goes without saying that they were all male. None of them was below the age of 40 when they died, and some where like in their 80s or 90s, so they were old old. That generally has to do with the fact that they were expected to complete a really hardcore ascetic practice that took years. This was not very comfortable for the practicioners, but apparently a pretty good income for Dewasanzan, since donations tended to flow for whenever ascetic practices took place (and, I think, some of them basically did their ascetic work on comission. I have to dig up my papers though.)

Generally, it seems like many of the practicioners were former criminals or came from a very poor or otherwise misfortunate background, though I have to double-check that too. In general, however, though there were many different kinds of laypeople, monks and practitioners at Dewasanzan, only an extremely small number ever completed the ascetic practices necessary to be able to ‘ascend’ into this group of people.

Those who aimed to become sokushinbutsu generallly practiced mokujiki, which means they were only allowed a very limited variety of food, things like berries or seeds, though definitely no cereals or rice, and we don’t even need to talk about meat. They also seem to have consumed foods that contain resin, because resin... is an excellent preservator. The exact procedure seems to have differed in every case, but it wasn’t easy, and they did it all while basically living in a tiny hut in the mountains, while adhering to strict religious rules. After this training was completed, many of them became travelling monks for a while, because they were reputed to have gained miraculous powers through their practice and I guess people in the past were wild for that kind of stuff. And again, donations.

Before the final act of becoming sokunshinbutsu, they stopped eating entirely. Like Kūkai, they continued with meditation practices, and some of them let themselves entomb in a cave, while others were buried alive. They died during this practice, presumably while achieving enlightenment(?).

Then they were left in their tombs for a while, before the tombs were reopened. Some of them were smoked like a ham, and their bodies put back into the tomb and left there for a little longer. It’s not like they had no outside help to achieve their goals, if we’re entirely honest. Eventually, they were usually taken out, dressed in nice robes, and placed on an altar in a temple, to be used as an icon for worship. Some of them still remain in temples until this day. (Sometimes you were only allowed to see them when you paid a fee, though. I really need to dig out my papers, there are some interesting stories.)

The practice was eventually banned in 1879, but I know there are one or two cases that happened even after that - in secret, of course.

“10/10, would practice the hell out of it again.”

#kuro rambles #japan #sokushinbutsu #mummies

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ihadtoputitsomewhere · 5 years ago

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I wish stone could talk. I wish it could say anything. That it could break the silence. I never knew silence could sound like loud whispers. Did you know silence can make your head hurt ? I hate sleeping now. It’s not the sleeping bit I hate because I love that part it’s like time travel, I can get to the next day without having to physically get through it. I feel nothing and there is nothing is that what it’s like for you ?

I lied it’s not the sleeping I hate. It’s the waking up. For the first few moments when all the good thoughts haven’t been taken yet, I forget. I forget that your bed hasn’t been slept in. I forget and I know this sounds horrible and I hope you’re not offended but I wish I could forget you completely. At first I wake up and it’s like before for a few seconds. Only a few seconds and then it all comes back and there’s too many thoughts in my head and there’s so much noise. And I can feel hands around my neck strangling me, shaking me and they’re saying.

‘This is forever this is real this is forever this is real this is forever this is real this.is. forever. this. is. real.’

If you saw what people said about you after it happened you’d have laughed. I know I did. I laughed when I read

‘RIP ANGLE’

under your photos on social media. During the ceremony I saw the kid that wrote it and now all I can think of is your face bent at an angle like a shit Picasso painting with block colours. You have a nose on your forehead and an ear as a mouth and a mouth on a cheek bone and an eye on a chin. And I can’t stop laughing. For fuck sake.

My laugh echoed through the flowers from people who didn’t know you had an allergy. It blew out the stained glass windows of saints and prophets you didn’t believe in. Then it gets to where you are lying.

Why don’t they know you can’t sleep on your fucking back?

Then they all turn and looks at me with disgust. I laugh even harder because I can’t stop now. I laugh until I get told to leave by one of your relatives. I didn’t know who they were so you probably wouldn’t either. I keep laughing until I get outside and then I feel water on my face. I thought maybe I’d finally cried but it’s just rain.

I go see you sometimes. Well not you because you’re decomposing under the ground. I go and see some stone that has your name on it and basic words that could never even come close to summarising you. And I think about another comment someone left under that photo of you up that lamp post.

'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’

I think whoever thought of that is a dick. Or he just didn’t know what love was. I’m really sorry but all I want to do is forget you existed. And I’m really trying to do so.

I wish we never met.

#creative writing #this is just for me #just a thought #just words #words words words #inspired by #friends that break your heart #inspired by music #astronaut husband #cigarettes after sex #falling for you #looking for alaska #all the bright places #sleeping at last #sampha

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ask-beast-o-tonicko · 3 years ago

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Internal Decomp huh? Well... how was he? Does he know we wish him well?

"Oh! I just remembered I had these sitting in my blog for a little after session 20 when I let Decomp stay with me!

Guess you're... curious about what he's actually like inside, are you?

Well..." He sighs, mentally preparing for a long explanation. "This is everything that happened in his head." Inhale.... then exhale.

..."So it went like this: I took Dee to see Dendy and he scared her about the cornfield dream stuff. Pretty much like mommy, Rad and Enid... She checked everything about him. Squishy organ stuff and breathing. And y'know his denial thing? Yeah, that really upset her a lot. So I gave her the idea that we'd take a trip to his mind and see what he's really like. Soooo... we went with that. Dendy started grabbing some high tech stuff to use. The brace things she got would let our consciousness....es?? Travel in there- since she noticed the few brain cells left he had. So we went, and we made it inside the head of Decomp! The place looked mostly empty though.... but not all of it! We found him sitting someplace by himself! And the first different thing? He looked really mad. And then scared when we came to talk to him. I started to talk to him about... basically how he feels about his condition and hear everything. He started out asking if I even knew how it felt to have zero control to stop yourself from doing anything. Then he got really upset, yelling that he can't do literally anything to stop outside Dee from saying what he says and does what he does without understanding at all not to do it. Maybe it's because his brain is decomposing, but still feels he's can't do anything right. I mean at all... And-- he feels super bad and helpless, knowing that being dead is hurting his friends and family, but is forced to do nothing but watch himself make everything worse.

I... didn't think he'd have that much to unload all at once until weeks ago. He... wants to go to sleep and see his mommy up there again. I think that means he dies dies for real... And... he's- dead but also still standing there... I don't know how and he doesn't either...

Guys. The real Decomp is in too much pain over what he's dealing with all the time. Every single day. He's angry and has every right to be... He's tried a lot of different ways- every single thing to prevent this, and... eventually he got tired of everything else and just gave up... he really believes-- like Dendy said- 'he's far enough at a point he truly feels he might be below some help and recovery'. He's... seriously lost too much hope to try and stop himself all together. And it depressing to listen to all of that! This is a KO that's done with everything he did, and he's exhausted... angry... hopeless... in such miserable pain... it's... the worst four letter 'h' word I can't say ((he means to say 'the worst hell')), he's trapped and keeps being tortured in..."

#ask-bot-ko #ask #anon #multiple asks #Beast-O-Tonic au #Beast-O-Tonic KO #ok ko alternate universe #tales from the multiverse #therapy carpool #therapy carpool canon #Archived session 20 ask currently being answered after quite some time

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antoine-roquentin · 5 years ago

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I think one of the major problems with the modern left is a focus on cultural analysis instead of economics. When I say culture I EXPLICITLY DON'T MEAN racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, and Indigenous rights/decolonization.

Stupidpol and their ilk are reactionaries and should be treated as such. What I'm talking about is the focus on things like analyzing TV shows or picking over the latest issues of the NYT op-ed column, the sort a caricatures you see on Chapo.

Zizek is emblematic of this syndrome. He's a theorist of ideology, a film critic, a Lacanian psychoanalyst and complete reactionary on gender and immigration issues, and he's widely considered to be one of preeminent Marxist scholars alive. And, and this is important, Zizek does fuck all actual economic material analysis. Mark Fisher, who was an excellent Marxist theorist, covers almost exactly the same ground from a different perspective, and you can repeat this across academia.

Inside academia the problem has gotten so bad that the best economic analysis is being carried out by the fucking post-humanists. Take, for example, Anna Tsing's excellent Supply Chains and the Human Condition. Tsing is a brilliant theorist but she spends most of her time writing about multi-species interactions between humans and mushrooms. Carbon Democracy, one of the best theories of the carbon economy ever written, is by a left-Foucaldian.

There are some exceptions to this, Andreas Malm's Carbon Capital is wonderful, Riot Strike Riot is great and I have to mention the group I call The Other Chicago School, Endnotes, whose infrequent analysis is a breath of fresh air. But Endnotes isn't particularly well read even inside the academy, which takes back outside the ivory tower in the dismal mess that is what passes for popular left "economics."

I want to go back to Occupy for a second because what happened there is indicative of the problem. Occupy, at least technically, actually had a theory of economics that went beyond "neoliberalism bad, welfare state good." And it's really not as bad as its critics have since accused it of being. Graeber's "the 1% meme" was supposed to be part of an MMT analysis of the ability of banks to create money out of nothing, see Richard A. Werner. The theory then goes with the ability to create money out of nothing the question becomes who should actually have that power. The 1% are the people who control that power and use that it to gain wealth and their wealth to gain power.

This is essentially what happened after 2008 and it relates to an entire analysis of the politics of debt and war that's captured really well in the last chapter of Debt, The First 5000 Years, drawing from Hudson's excellent Super Imperialism. Again, not bad, and not the disaster it became in Liberal hands. But note two things:

1, His work is intentionally detached from the production process- Graeber uses a value theory of labor about the social reproduction of human beings. That theory is really interesting and I'll leave a link to his It is Value that Brings Universes into Being here. But Graeber is an anthropologist, not an economist, and his recent work is mostly composed of a set of theories of bureaucracy.

And, don't get me wrong, I really like Utopia of Rules and Bullshit Jobs, and it's possible to build an economic theory out of them, but almost no one actually does. And this gets us back to my second point about Occupy and economics.

2, Not a single other person I have ever met, including people who were in Occupy, have ever actually heard the theory behind the 1%. Part of this has to do with Graeber’s rather admirable desire to not become an intellectual vanguardist. But, I cannot overemphasize how much of this is a result of the left's retreat into an analysis of consumerism instead of capitalism and its further insistence that the entire fucking global economy can be explained by chapters 1-3 of Capital and this just isn't a "read more theory" rant, it's not like reading the rest of Capital is going to help you here. But even that's better than what's actually happened, which is people reading Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism and the Communist Manifesto and trying to derive economic theory from that, or getting lost in a Gramscian or psychoanalytic miasma trying to explain why revolution didn't happen. But we can't keep fucking doing this.

If we do we're just going to keep getting stuck in endless fucking inane arguments, one of which is about which countries are Imperialist or not based on trying to read the minds of world leaders, and the other of which is a bunch of racists trying to argue that they're actually "class-first" Marxists and that if we don't say slurs and be mean to disabled people we're going to lose the "real working class," which is somehow composed only of construction workers banging steel bars.

So let's stop letting them do that. One of the reasons Supply Chains and the Human Condition is so great is that it describes how the performance of gender and racial roles creates the self super-exploitation at the heart of global capitalism. Race and gender cannot be ignored in favor of some kind of "class-first" faux-leftist bullshit. THEY ARE LITERALLY THE DRIVER OF CAPITAL ACCUMULATION.

Most of the global supply chain has been transformed into entrepreneurs and wannabe entrepreneurs (see the countless accounts of Chinese garment factory workers who dream of getting into the fashion industry and who attempt to supplement their meager income by setting up stalls in local marketplaces to sell watches and clothes).

The fact that global supply chains have reverted to the kind of small family firms that Marx and Engels thought would disappear is a MASSIVE problem for any kind of global workers movement, because it means that the normal wage relation that is supposed to form the basis of the proletariat isn't actually the governing social experience of a large swath of what should be the proletariat, either because they're the owners of small firms contracted by larger firms like Nike who would, in an older period of capitalism, have just been workers or because the people who work for those firms are incapable of actually demanding wage increases from the capitalists because they're separated by a layer from the firms who control real capital, and thus are essentially unable to make the kind of wage demands that would normally constitute class consciousness because the contractors they work for really don't have any money. These contractors are in no way independent.

Multinational corporations set everything from their buying prices to their labor conditions to what their workers say to lie to labor inspectors. The effect of replacing much of the proletariat with micro-entrepreneurs is devastating.

The class-for-itself that's supposed to serve as the basis of social revolution has decomposed entirely. Endnotes has a great analysis of how this happened covering more time, but the unified working class is dead. In its place have come a series of incoherent struggles: The Arab Spring, the Movement of the Squares, the current wave of revolutions and riots stretching from Sudan to Peru to Puerto Rico- all of them share an economic basis translated into demands on the state. We see housing struggles, anti-police riots, occupations, climate strikes, and a thousand other forms of struggle that don't seem to cohere into a traditional social revolution and WE HAVE NO ANSWER.

I don't have one either, but we're not going to get out of this mess by trying to read the tea leaves of the CCP or analyzing how Endgame is the ruling class inculcating us into accepting Malthusian Ecofascism.

I want to emphasize YOU DON'T NEED TO SHARE MY ECONOMIC ANALYSIS to develop one, I'm obviously wrong on a lot of things and so is everyone else. The point is that we need to start somewhere.

There are other benefits to reading economics stuff even if it can be boring sometimes, like being able to dunk on nerd shitlibs and reactionaries who do the "take Econ-101" meme by being able to prove that their entire discipline is bunk. Steve Keen's Debunking Economics is absolutely hilarious for this, he literally proves that perfect competition relies on the same math that you use to "prove" that the earth is flat.

Or learning that the notion that markets distribute goods optimally is based on the assumption that what is basically a form of fucking state socialism exists, and that the supply demand curve is fucking bullshit. Here's a page from Debunking Economics looking at the socialism claim, it fucking rules, and it's the result of the fact that neo-classical economics and central planning were developed together. Kantorovich and Koopmans shared a Nobel Prize.

But wait, there's more! We can PROVE that THE MARKET PLACE OF IDEAS DOESN'T EXIST. Do you have any idea how hard you can own libs with facts and logic if you can demonstrate that THE MARKET PLACE OF IDEAS DOESN'T EXIST?

But seriously, if you go outside of the Marxist tradition there are all sorts of fun and useful things you can find in post-Keyensian circles and so on and so forth. I'm a huge fan of Karen Ho's Liquidated, an Ethnography of Wall Street/Liquidated_%20An%20Ethnography%20of%20Wall%20Street%20-%20Karen%20Ho.pdf) which looks at how the people at banks and investment firms actually behave and, oh boy, is it bad news (they're literally incapable of making long-term decisions which is wonderful in the face of climate change).

Oh, and also, all of the bankers are essentially indoctrinated into thinking they're the smartest people in the world, so that's fun.

This may sound like I'm shitting on Marxism, and I sort of am, but there's Marxist stuff coming out that I absolutely love! @chuangcn is a good example of what I think the benchmark for leftist economics and historical analysis should be.

Chuang responded to the call put out by Endnotes to cut "The Red Thread of History," or essentially to stop fucking arguing about 1917, 1936, 1968 and so forth and look at material conditions instead of trying to find our favorite faction and accuse literally everyone else of betraying the revolution, and then imagining what we would have done in their shoes. The present is different from the past and we need to organize for this economic and social reality, not 1917's.

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EBvBIVhXYAYlVfj.png

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EBvBM3CXoAA7Qmx.jpg

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EBvBP0SWkAEl6OX.jpg

Chuang produced an incredibly statically and sociologically detailed account of the Chinese socialist period in issue 1 and the transition to capitalism in the soon to be put online issue 2 that focuses on shifts in production and investment and shifts in China's class-structure and how urban workers, peasants, factory mangers, technicians, and cadre members reacted to those movements and shaped each others decisions and mobilizations. They largely avoid discussions of factional battles of the upper level of the CCP, which dominate liberal and communist accounts of the period and produce, in supposed communists from David Harvey to Ajit Singh, a Great Man theory of history.

Instead, they trace how strikes and peasant protests shaped the CCP's decision making and how the choices of people like Mao and Deng Xiaoping were limited by material conditions, in this case by their production bottleneck.

What's great about Chuang is that their work is so rich in sociological detail that you don't need to agree with them at all about what communism is and so on for their account to be useful, and they force us to think about the world from the perspective of competing classes bound by economic reality, instead of the black-and-white "good state/bad state," "good ruler/bad ruler," discourse that dominates our understanding of both imperialism and the global economy.

I'm just going to end this with a TL;DR: Cut the read thread of history and stop fucking arguing about 1917, use economic theory to dunk on Stupidpol and shitlibs. When you talk about "material conditions" talk about the production process, supply chains, capital movements and so on, not which states are good and bad (the bourgeoisie is a global class friends), recognize that strategies need to be built around current economic and social conditions, WHICH ARE INSEPARABLE FROM RACE AND GENDER, climate change is more complicated than the 100 companies meme (I only touched on this but please read Fossil Capital and Carbon Democracy), and in general try to learn more about different schools of economics and social theory, I swear reading something that wasn't written in 1848 isn't going to kill you.

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headoverhiddles · 5 years ago

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All Work, No Play - Jack Torrance x Reader

Synopsis: You investigate the Overlook alone one night, unsure of what you’ll find.

Notes: HAPPY HALLOWEEN YA SPOOKY BITCHES!!!!!!

It's Halloween night, and this probably wasn't a good idea.

The Overlook Hotel had withered and shrunk in on itself over the last decade of being empty. One too many murders, and the previous owners had given up-- the bad press had grown tiring, and a repeat offense couldn't simply be explained away as cabin fever this time.

There was something about the old Overlook, and as with any place attached to a grisly history, it had its divided theorists. Some say there's bad energy there-- that's what made him do it. Others say the ghosts roam freely, whispering to whoever stays there or enters the front doors. Most people just go with the rational excuse; it was a coincidence of mass psychosis.

You let the words ghost and psychosis rattle around in your brain as the chilly fall air sweeps you inside. You probably should've brought someone-- anyone. You hadn't even told a soul where you were... this was a very, very bad idea.

As you turn to leave though, the door shuts on its own. Doesn't slam; just closes softly. You swallow. I guess that's decided for me.

You take a few cautious steps inside the large hotel. It's dark, but there are candles, half melted down, that you can make out in the dark. Taking the matches out of your purse, you walk around, lighting each sconce.

Your nerves are overtaken by awe as the place lights up. It's absolutely beautiful. Fallen from grace, sure, but the cobwebs add to the antique novelty of the place. How more people don't go ghost hunting here on TV, or just for fun, astounds you. Maybe the rumors really are true, and madness prevents visitors from staying a whole night through.

"Hello?" you call, your heart rate spiking. There's a ballroom to your left, empty and thick with dust. Your heart gradually starts thumping against your chest with each step you take further, and you wipe your palms on your jacket. "Anybody here?"

The autumn wind answers you again, howling outside and rattling the windows. The place is huge. Thinking of the scope of it makes your head spin... there are hundreds of rooms, and each could be filled with hundreds of things.

A breeze blows behind you, but you're already on the stairs. Trailing your hand up the banister of the grand staircase, you start to smile. This is so spooky. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all--

You pause, eyes widening. What's that noise?

Tip. Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tip tap. Tap-tap. Tap.

It sounds like a... typewriter?

"Hello?" you repeat. The echo of the old typewriter keys is all that remains of the disembodied noise.

Coming up to the second floor of the Overlook, you again marvel at the view out the window. The snow-capped mountains behind the place tower over the hotel, and it looks strangely serene, out here in the middle of nowhere with no one to look at it but you.

"I'm all alone," you remind yourself. Your voice sounds so out of place.

You walk down the hall, and head down to the room that the Grady murders supposedly happened in. You inspect the walls, hoping for just a little leftover blood, but they did a good job of cleaning up-- it just looks like a regular old room, with the aging 70s style decor.

Taking a peek in the bathroom, you hold your breath. The shower curtain is drawn, and by the ghost stories floating around about this place, there's supposed to be an old lady who haunts the bathtub. As you inch toward it, you swallow, remembering that if there is something horrifying behind this curtain, you've got a long way to run from it to the front door.

It's fine. It's fine. She supposedly appears as a regular lady until her skin starts to decompose, according to the legend. Still... seeing someone hiding in here wouldn't be the most comfortable thing, no matter what she looked like. You notice something dark moving behind the curtain, and your hands start to tremble.

"Oh god. I-I don't mean to disturb you," you toss out timidly, hoping that you'll at least warn the spirit (if there is one). Please don't let there be one... please, please...

You peel the shower curtain back, looking between your fingers... to find a missing tile, a swarm of cockroaches crawling around the hole in the wall. You make a face, rubbing your hands on your pants just in case, and back away. Well, no old lady. Just an old, infamous hotel room lost to the hands of time.

You nearly jump out of your skin as you feel a hand on your shoulder. You whip around, to find nobody there. Another jump, as you hear the striking of a piano chord beneath the floor, just downstairs. Your brain instantly reaches for anything to make sense of it-- you left your phone downstairs by accident, and it started playing your classical playlist. No. There's a radio downstairs that... turns on by itself? No. There's an ice cream truck???

You frown at yourself for that last idea. Anyone would have to be crazy to drive all this way out to serve ice cream to some supposed ghosts. You're crazy for even attempting it yourself, especially at night. Then what about that hand, too?

You have to go see what made the sound.

As you walk slowly down the carpeted hall, you hear the music drift up. It's some sort of ballroom music. Descending the stairs, you bite your lip, chewing obsessively. Oh god, oh god. You really hadn't thought this through.

"Is there someone here?!" you call, "This place is... closed. I don't... work here, or anything." Then what are you doing here?

Having a happy Halloween, you argue with yourself. Right. If you survive the night.

You nearly stop breathing as you see what's going on. The ballroom that had previously been empty was now fully lit, golden, and open for business. Soft waltz music drifts out, and you put a hand on the entryway.

Ghosts.

You walk inside, looking around. There are no ghosts that you can see, but what else could have done this?

"Mr. Grady?" you ask, looking up at the ceiling, at everything you can take in. "Mr... Torrance?"

You sit down at the bar, and are amazed to find that it's fully stocked. You grin a little bit, feeling more excited now than scared to be experiencing all this, and walk around to the other side.

"Would you like a drink, Miss (y/l/n)?" you ask yourself in a posh accent, straightening your back.

"Don't mind if I do," you answer, pouring one.

"Make that two, would ya honey?"

You scream, and drop the bottle, hearing it smash at your feet. You turn around, to find a man sitting at the bar where you had just been.

"Who are you?" you breathe, white knuckling the shelf.

"Don'tcha know my name?" He gives a splitting grin, eyes ghostly shadowed, "You just called for me five minutes ago."

"Mr. Grady?" you ask cautiously, looking around to see if he had any weapons on him.

"The other happy haunt," the man continues to grin unnervingly, You don't dare blink or look away from him.

"Jack Torrance," you whisper. He laughs loudly, the booming sound filling the ballroom.

"That's me, honey. That's me. Stuck in this fucking place after an... unfortunate unfolding of events. Now, uh... if you don't mind honey, since you're on the other side of the bar already... would you swipe me a bourbon and make it neat?"

Shakily, you pour him his drink. You don't stop to question how you're talking to, and pouring a drink for, the ghost of an axe murderer.

"That's more like it," he nods, licking his lips. His eyes descend a little, and he hums. "You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?" You blush a little bit. You had noticed he was pretty good looking as well, much more attractive than the legends paint him, but you're not about to admit that.

"I..." you mumble.

"What're you doing here tonight, Miss... what did you say your name was? Miss (y/l/n)?"

"(y/n)," you tell him.

"(y/n)," he muses. "Come sit. Can't tell why you'd wanna spend the night in a... run down old place like this hotel." His fists ball up. "These walls can drive a man mad. And, they did!" That laughter returns, before his face gets dead serious. "You know who I am, don't you?"

You swallow. "You murdered your family with an axe... just like the caretaker before you." He shakes his head adamantly, slamming his glass down and making you jump.

"I didn't kill them. I was told to... and I tried. God knows, I fucking tried," he grits his teeth, and takes another long drink of bourbon, "But sometimes, things are just out of your hands." He looks at you sideways. "You never answered my question. Why did you come here? Hm? To see little old me? Come see if the ghost stories are true?" He makes a 'wooo' sound, wiggling his fingers playfully. You shrug, unable to hide your nerves.

"Basically, yes. That's why I came."

"You're interested in ghost stories, are you?"

"Yes," you say.

"Fine, that's just fine. Interesting. My wife never liked them. She used to get squeamish, you see, whenever I would talk about anything that scared her. Everything scared her. Ghosts, spiders... me."

You walk around to the other side of the bar. "And why would she be scared of you?"

"Because I'm a scary person, (y/n)," Jack smiles. "Can't you tell?" He puts a hand on your knee, and your whole body goes frigid. You don't remove his hand, though. For a second, confusion flashes over Jack's face. He can't tell why you're not running, screaming. Now that you had adjusted to finding the very thing you came here to find, you weren't afraid anymore. He places the glass in front of you.

"Your turn. I think we have cause to celebrate."

You agree, and pour some of Jack's bourbon that would be very (very) nicely aged at this point. Lifting it to your lips, you appreciate the taste. It's probably the best bourbon you've ever had.

"Are you gonna keep me here?" you ask. Jack moves his hand up your leg slightly, looking down at it.

"That depends, sweetheart. I could keep you here for the night... just you and me, celebrate Halloween the old fashioned way, y'know..." He raises an eyebrow. "You know it has been a very long time for me."

"Aren't there other ghosts you can... pass the time with?" You start to worry. What if he wants permanent companionship? He could kill you!

"Let me put it this way honey. Ghosts making love to ghosts is like waving a hot dog around in the air," Jack mutters sarcastically, downing the last of his bourbon. You frown at that mental image, and decide then that killing you wouldn't be in his best interest, it seemed. He goes on. "No. I've missed feeling this. And you walk in here tonight, ready as can be to find some ghosts. Well, lucky me. You found one." He gives a big, playful smile, and you stand up.

"I came to look for ghosts," you say, voice low as you back up against the wall, "Not fuck them."

"Life is full of surprises, isn't it?" his grin grows, as he walks closer to you from the bar, "Or death is, I guess."

"Mr. Torrance," you say softly, "No matter what, I'll just have to leave in the morning."

"Then stay awhile," he grins, reaching his hand out. You look at it, listen to the ghostly noises echoing around you, and remember that you're standing in a hotel haunted by killers. Not bad looking ones, if Jack was anything to go by. Dammit, no!

"I guess I don't have to leave just yet," you cave, and take his hand. Just as you're about to close your fingers around his though, you start to feel a little dizzy. "Mmm," you moan, putting a hand on your chest. You start to cough, and your eyes close. You can see in your mind's eye, as clear as if you were looking at it, the elevator doors in the hallway opening, and a river of blood pouring out.

"Help, help, help," someone says, and you realize it's you. You start to cough, and see the same shade of red that came out of the elevators, in your palms.

"Drank the bourbon did you?" Jack asks, sighing. "Well. You know what they say. Always read the label!" You turn back, and see the ballroom has completely darkened, everything dusty with cobwebs and silent as a mausoleum. The bottle sitting on the bar is rat poison.

"No," you cough, and try to crawl toward the door.

"At least it wasn't an axe," Jack reminds you, and his laugh echoes as you run out the front door. Two steps, three, and you fall to your feet, pawing at the ground. Coming to terms with the fact that you're not going to get any further, you roll over onto your back, and look up at the Overlook looming over you. Jack approaches the door, and holds it open for you.

"All work no play makes Jack a dull boy. So, (y/n)... ready to play, angel mine?"

#jack torrance #jack torrence x reader #jack torrance x reader #reader x jack torrance #jack nicholson #jack nicholson x reader #reader x jack nicholson #the shining #the shining fanfiction #horror film #horror films #horror fan #horror fandom #horror fanfiction #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher fanfic

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istanleyff7 · 5 years ago

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Dr Donovan of Mideel

Final Fantasy VII Remake: The Investigation Unit Within the Painting A Short Story by Kazushige Nojima Translated by Stanley

Chapter 1: Dr Donovan of Mideel

The landscape I saw from a magazine as a child, spanned out beneath my eyes. Just before landing, the pilot requested me to pay up a one-way payment. So from the pilot’s point of view, there’s a possibility that I might not return. Is that so…? I agreed and paid him.

I heard that Mideel was a land that chooses its people. Sure enough, it feels suffocating and uncomfortable. It seems that it is due to the Lifestream that passes through near its surface.

The Study of Planet Life states that the Lifestream is one of the states of life. When a person dies, his body decomposes and returns to earth. His spirit returns to the Planet. Spirits that become one with the Planet, flows and roams around it, before dwelling in new creatures. It is the absolute basics of the Study of Planet Life. However, the people of today have discovered the technique of treating the Lifestream as a mere substance, and have named it ‘Mako’. Even though many people only consider it as a convenient energy source, once consumed as energy, it will never return to the Planet. Simply put, the Lifestream is diminishing. I wonder what will happen to the future? The ambiguity makes me uneasy but, once knowing the benefits of Mako, it’s hard to cast it aside. Thus, I still carry these feelings of guilt. I even think that I want to go back to the time when I didn't know anything about it.

A woman named Ifalna taught me the Study of Planet Life. She was an extremely beautiful woman. The last time I met her was 15 years ago. I was 9 years old.

“We are connected to the Planet through the Lifestream. You and the Planet. Aerith and the Planet. Everyone is connected to Planet, right? That is to say that, we are all connected, and we share one big existence. That's why I think everyone should get along rather than fight. That way, the Planet will be pleased. So, are you going to reconcile?”

She was a gentle person. She was always smiling. But she was not happy.

Ifalna and her daughter, Aerith... Remembering those times spent with the Ancient mother and child, I became riddled with guilt.

A green archipelago stretching far south of Midgar, Mideel is on the largest island out of all of them. The village is not very large. I walked around while surveying the area, and visited the clinic which first caught my eye. If it’s a medical institution, there are probably records left behind.

Dr Donavan kept me company. He was in his mid-30s. He’s thin, has sunken eyes and doesn’t look as healthy as most doctors do.

I was looking for Geddy Puck, and by showing his picture, it affirmed that I was not a resident of this village. I explained the situation. Geddy must have been here 15 years ago. I want to examine the records. Dr Donovan went back to the examination room and I waited for him on the cheap-looking bench in the waiting room. I'm a so-called Shinra trooper. If this is a place of Shinra Company’s influence, then it’s not strange. In addition, people, despite what they are actually thinking, they will listen to the troopers.

Dr Donovan returned after such a long time that I thought that he started taking a nap.

“Unfortunately, there seems to be no record of Mr Geddy Puck coming here even twenty years ago.”

Against my will, the sound of my disappointment leaked out.

“Sometimes people just don’t come to the clinic. If a person is healthy, this possibility is high. How about asking the people in the village?

“Yes, I will.”

“Glen Reiner.”

”Yes?"

”But we have the records of a man named Glen Reiner from 15 years ago. It seems that he was the only outsider who took a medical examination that year. He was also a Shinra trooper.”

My heart started to pound.

“Shall I show it to you?” the doctor said while presenting me a medical record bounded between paper clips.

“This is probably an unofficial examination, right?”

“Correct.”

“You sneaked in here and looked up the records without permission. I don’t know anything about it, ok?”

I nodded. Dr Donovan then headed back to the examination room. Flustered, I called out to him.

“Do you remember anything about Glen Reiner?”

“I don't know anything about fifteen years ago regardless if it’s Geddy or Glen because I only came here about three years ago.”

I guess it can’t be helped then.

According to the medical records 15 years ago, Glen Reiner was discovered by a villager while wandering through a forest near Mideel village. His identity was confirmed through the Shinra identification tag he had on him. He was 25 years old. His diagnosis was a right ankle ligament rupture and Mako Poisoning. The poisoning was determined to be mid-stage type III and it seemed that he also had severe memory loss. After half a month of recuperating in a dormitory, he returned to Midgar by a cargo transportation helicopter. The signature of the pilot at that time remained on the patient's delivery document was read as Jack Klein.

Just to be sure, he showed the photograph of Geddy to the village inhabitants before leaving, but not a single one of them said that they have met him before. There was an old man who remembered that a Shinra trooper was hospitalized at the clinic, but he didn’t remember Glen’s name or physical features. The man who saved Glen in the forest had already passed on.

15 years is a long time. I was 9 years old and now I am 24. I am also about to become a father soon.

When I returned to Midgar, I went directly to the headquarters building and bought information using connections and money. Glen Reiner died in battle 15 years ago in Wutai, three days after returning from Mideel. Didn’t he more or less have severe Mako poisoning? Shinra sent such soldiers to the battlefield? Something is weird about this.

I'm looking for Geddy Puck, a person who disappeared 15 years ago. At Mideel, which Geddy should have visited, was where I learnt of the existence of a trooper named Glen Reiner. After investigating his whereabouts, I learnt that he died in battle 15 years ago.

15 years ago.

They are connected. Something in me told me so. Does the Lifestream connect people over time? I felt that my nature of offense had increased.

____

-Next Chapter- Chapter 2: Jack Klein of Sector Seven

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#ffvii ffviir ff7 ff7r

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mugsywrites · 5 years ago

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In the interest of staying On Brand...

Here is a bit of a self-indulgent Prodigal Son/TWD crossover. Basically non-zombie Desus AU, their backstory almost identical to the one I gave them in Ripples.

Untitled Self-Indulgent Fic

Malcolm had been in Georgia less than a week and was already itching to get back to New York. He knew it made him just another coastal liberal elite cliche, but he still hated working with rednecks. Casual racism and misogyny were problems everywhere, but something about being south of the Mason Dixon line made it all the worse.

So when he needed to make the drive to Athens to interview a potential witness he was relieved that Rick Grimes was the one to accompany him. The sheriff of King County was a pleasant surprise in the sea of good ole boys Malcolm had been dealing with. The guy was quiet, thoughtful, and steady. He reminded Malcolm a bit of Gil, actually. Serial killers were outside this guy’s wheelhouse, and he listened respectfully while Malcolm babbled, only occasionally raising his eyebrows and making a dry comment when Malcolm was being Too Much. During the two-hour drive to Athens those eyebrows got quite a workout.

Although the guy was maybe a little too sharp. Such as when Grimes asked why Malcolm was so sure the recently discovered body was the Surgeon’s work. He’d given Malcolm a piercing look at his breezy explanation of being an “expert” on the Surgeon’s crimes. “Trust me,” Malcolm said, “this was the Surgeon’s work.”

In his head Malcolm heard Gil’s voice, reminding him that right now it was possible, not definite, that Gregory Hill had been murdered by the Surgeon. Could be another copy cat, Gil said, probably another copy cat. Your old man wasn’t one for hiding bodies. He showed one copycat his methods, he could have done it before. He told you he didn’t do it, why would he risk you stopping your visits by lying about it?

Malcolm didn’t know; and he intended to find out. The biggest deviation from the Surgeon’s method was the care that had gone into hiding the body; it’d been hidden so well that it’d taken twenty years to be found. And Malcolm had asked his father, and the Dr. Whitly had denied it.

But he was lying, and Malcolm knew he was lying. His father hadn’t given any of his usual tells; but Malcolm knew it. Had known it as soon as the words were out of his father’s mouth. He’d also known that the Surgeon very much did not want his son to look into this particular case.

Why. Malcolm turned it over in his head. There was nothing to indicate Dr. Whitly had been in Georgia when Gregory Hill was murdered, but there was also nothing that would conclusively prove that he wasn’t. There was the fact that Whitly had attended a conference in Atlanta the year before Hill’s disappearance. Too close to the time frame for comfort. Whitly could’ve done preliminary recon on the area, then returned later to deflect suspicion. It made Malcolm feel panicky, as he couldn’t stop thinking, oh god, are there others? How many? Whitly hunted close to their home in New York, and he freely admitted to his murders once he’d been caught.

There was also the other major deviation from his father’s standard M.O. Motive. The Surgeon killed because he was bored and the Surgeon killed for self-preservation. He didn’t kill out of anger—Malcolm actually thought his father might be incapable of that emotion—and he certainly didn’t kill for revenge. Except Malcolm could tell from what was left of the body that Hill’s killer had been angry. Except Malcolm knew that his father was lying about not being involved, and that he’d killed Hill in the most painful way possible.

Literally. Despite the decomposed state of the body there was enough for the coroner to recognize the “quartet method” (although Malcolm supposed it would have to be updated to the “quintet method” if Gregory indeed proved to be the final victim.) Dr Whitly went out of his way to discover the most painful method of killing a person—perfecting the technique on four innocent women before going after Gregory Hill with what he’d learned. Malcolm just couldn’t figure out why; or how Hill had even crossed paths with the Surgeon. Dr. Whitly spent less than a week in Atlanta; Hill had lived outside of Savannah and his body had been discovered near Macon.

An hour into the drive there was a lull in conversation, and Malcolm paged through his notes on Gregory Hill with these thoughts swirling through his head. It was difficult pinning down solid information on Gregory Hill; most people who knew him in life were work associates. On the outside the man had been an ‘upstanding citizen’—born in 1945, vanished in 1997. Owned a successful car dealership in Shepherd, Georgia, just outside of Savannah. Married, but his wife had died in 2007. No biological children, but fostered six children, the first coinciding neatly with Hill’s first campaign for public office. Hill served in the Georgia State Legislator from 1990 to 1994, when he lost spectacularly to Hershel Greene. Dr. Greene was deceased, but his according to his children he’d had a very low opinion of Hill. The impression Malcolm had so far of the man was a bit sleazy, but no more than your average rich asshole interested in politics. Certainly not enough to incur the wrath of Dr. Martin Whitley.

Dead end followed dead end. Right now they were trying to track down the foster kids without much luck—two were dead, two were in prison and unwilling to speak with police about anything, one was living in California, and one lived in Athens. Malcolm wasn’t hopeful about learning anything that would shed light on the Surgeon’s motivations—Paul Rovia had only lived with Hill for a few months in 1994. It was just a box to check off.

****************************************************

The address on file for Paul Rovia was a modest two story colonial style house not far from downtown Athens. Grimes parked the cruiser on the street in front, sharp blue eyes taking in everything. There was an attached garage and a short driveway; the garage door was open and Malcom could hear what he thought was Lynyrd Skynyrd drifting out. He and Grimes headed toward the garage, where they could see a figure stretched out on a creeper seat beneath a battered pickup truck.

Malcolm raised his voice to be heard over the music, “Excuse me? Mr. Rovia?”

“Fuck did I say ‘bout callin’ me that?” growled the figure beneath the truck. A grimy hand emerged, grabbed a tool laid out beside him, “You want a divorce so bad just ask.” The guy’s accent was pure Appalachia, so thick Malcolm had trouble making a few words out.

“Uh,” Malcolm said, blinking at this string of nonsense.

“Sorry, maybe we’re in the wrong place,” Rick Grimes interjected, “we’re looking for Paul Rovia, does he live here?”

The man jerked, then slid out from underneath the truck, blinking up at the two men standing in his garage. He was broad-shouldered, with cutoff sleeves that revealed muscular arms and a middle just beginning to soften. It was hard to tell beneath the grime but he looked at least ten years too old to be Paul Rovia, and Malcolm wondered again if they’d gotten the wrong house. Then his eyes focused on Malcolm’s face and his jaw dropped, “What the fuck did you do?”

“Sorry?” Malcolm said, even as the mechanic was pushing himself up off the ground, eyes wide and horrified as he stared between Malcolm and Sheriff Grimes.

“Paul, what the hell—“ the guy started to say, then froze. He had narrow blue eyes that widened in pure shock. When he spoke his voice was a rasp, “What. The. Fuck.”

Beside him Malcolm was aware of Grimes tensing. He didn’t have to look to know that the sheriff’s hand was probably closer to the grip of the big Colt that rested on his hip. Understandable, this guy’s response to them was weird as fuck.

He recognizes me, Malcolm thought, maybe from a true crime doc, but why—

He shook his head, and struggled to keep his voice even, “Let’s start over. I’m Malcolm Bright, I’m a criminal profiler on loan from the NYPD. This is Sheriff Rick Grimes. We’re looking for Paul Rovia, is this his address?”

The guy just stared, jaw still slack, “Malcolm? Malcolm Bright?” He said Malcolm’s name like they were words from a language he’d never heard. Malcolm held up his ID and gave what he hoped was a non-threatening smile. The guy who clearly wasn’t Paul Rovia just stared at it blankly.

“Listen,” Grimes said, “We just want to ask a few questions, Mr. Rovia isn’t in any trouble. You a friend of his?”

When Grimes began to speak the stranger’s eyes flicked toward the sheriff, and when he got to the ‘Mr. Rovia’ part those eyes jerked right back to Malcolm, and they didn’t leave it. Finally, the guy spoke, “I’m his husband. Daryl. Daryl Dixon.”

“Ok,” Malcolm said, blinking a little. This trip was teaching him a bit about stereotypes—he never would’ve guessed the man in front of him was gay. Still, not important. “Is he home? Can we talk to him?”

“He’s uh…he should be inside, or out back,” Dixon said. He stumbled around the truck, eyes never leaving Malcolm’s face. There was a door that connected to the main house, and Dixon opened it and shouted inside, “Paul! Paul, get yer ass out here! Now!” His voice was high-pitched and shrill. Malcolm exchanged a look with Grimes; this was looking more and more like something wasn’t right.

Malcolm heard a faint voice calling out from the house, “Daryl? Babe? Are you ok?”

Malcolm had just enough time to think that the voice sounded familiar when what he guessed was Paul Rovia emerged from the house. Malcolm had a brief impression of long hair and a beard as he went to his husband. “Fuck, what happened? Did you hurt yourself?” Dixon didn’t answer, just stared that wide-eyed, shocked look, then looked back at Malcolm.

Paul Rovia noticed Malcolm and Sheriff Grimes then, and he took a protective step in front of Dixon, “May I help you…”

Then he froze, eyebrows drawing together in confusion as he saw Malcolm’s face. Then his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Malcolm could feel blood draining from his own face as he watched Paul Rovia turn pale with shock.

Malcolm was able to keep his own jaw from dropping, but only barely.

Paul Rovia had hair the same shade of Malcolm’s own, only worn long, past his shoulders. He had a full beard, and made him look a bit like Jesus. Malcolm unconsciously raised a hand to his own bare chin. He’d never grown a beard before, but now he knew what he’d look like if he did. Because Paul Rovia’s long hair and beard weren’t enough to obscure the fact that his face was identical to Malcolm’s own. Same slightly curved nose, same arched eyebrows, same cheekbones, same wide mouth, same blue-green eyes. Although Rovia’s didn’t have the dark circles underneath.

For the second time in Malcolm’s life everything he thought he knew about his father and his family was wiped away.

As Malcolm stared at his brother, at his fucking twin, the shape of what had motivated the Surgeon to kill Gregory Hill started to form.

****************************************************

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reifromrfa · 6 years ago

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Mysme Halloween Zine Fic | Undying Love: Zen X MC

Hey guys! I hope you were able to get a copy of the @mysmehalloweenzine! Here’s the piece I did for the zine <3 I know I haven’t posted in a while, but I had so much fun writing this fic and the zine is amazing <3 Sorry for the late post! ;A; Life got busy haha but I hope you like this! Thank you to the ever-awesome @digitalscratch-arting for collabing with me on this!!! ;A; Please check out her blog and her beautiful art TwT Love you girl! Warning: Zombies below the cut!

Undying Love: Zen x MC

This still seems like some sort of elaborate prank. A crazy joke that’s going too far. But no, the actor has had a bad feeling for a few days now, and after that terrifying dream the other night…

Zen knows this is real. As real as the muffled voice screaming his name in the background.

“Hyun! Hyun, wake up!”

With a groan, Zen opens his eyes and waits until his vision comes into focus. But nothing makes sense, because for some reason, his hands are above his head and everything is…upside-down. Oh God. What the hell happened?

“Zen, the bodyguards will arrive there any moment. Are you and MC ready?” comes Jumin’s anxious voice.

“Yes, we are. Is it really bad out there?” Zen asks as MC rushes into the living room, carrying a backpack. Zen adjusts his own strap, eyes scanning the area outside. It’s dark but he can see a few of those creatures shuffling around.

“It’s…chaos. Just keep MC close. And no matter what happens, if somebody tries to attack you, make sure to do whatever it takes to keep yourselves safe.”

“Whatever it takes? But—”

“Whatever. It. Takes. Do not hesitate, Zen. The priority now is getting everybody to safety, so—”

A burst of static. The call ends just as headlights appear across the apartment’s entrance.

“Zenny?” MC whispers in a shaky voice. Zen looks at his girlfriend and cups her cheek, trying to look brave, struggling to find the perfect lines to make her feel better. To make her feel safe.

“Jagiya, I promise I’ll keep you safe,” he vows, looking into her panicked gaze. “I promise, MC.”

She nods and Zen remembers running out with her, baseball bat in hand. Jumin’s bodyguards shooting down the creatures and beckoning the couple to the car. The actor recalls holding MC close to him, eyes wide as the creatures struggled to get back up despite the bullets embedded in their body. And they drive past people who are being…eaten alive. There’s no other way to describe it. Everywhere he looks, the actor sees people being ripped apart and eaten by the undead. Like a horror movie.

Then he saw bright lights, his body being jerked to the side, the seatbelt stopping him from lurching forward as they are slammed against a building.

“Hyun!”

Zen snaps back to the present, hearing shouts and gunshots from outside. He looks beside him and sees MC’s panic-stricken face, illuminated dimly by the glow of the headlights, and he gives her a reassuring smile, even though his heart is hammering against his chest.

“We’re fine, babe. We’re fine.”

“Grab the package! We need to run!” a voice bellows from outside, followed by more gunshots. But nobody comes for them. Instead, he hears a strangled cry from outside.

Zen looks to his left and realizes the only exit is the shattered window beside him. Bracing himself on the ceiling with one hand, he clicks the lock on his seatbelt and falls to the ceiling, his shoulder banging against the cushioned surface. MC gasps but Zen gives her a thumbs up. With his foot, the actor kicks the window until it shatters, then he reaches for his bat and holds up one hand to shield his eyes. He sweeps the rest of the shards clinging to the frame, making sure it’s clear.

“Okay Jagi, time to go,” Zen tells her. He moves to crouch underneath her and MC holds on to him while Zen unbuckles her seatbelt. MC lets out a small cry as she falls, but Zen manages to support her weight, softening the impact.

“Babe, I’m scared,” MC whispers to him, hazel eyes full of fear. Zen kisses the top of her forehead and envelops her in a fierce hug. “Just stay close to me, MC. I’ll take care of you.”

With that, Zen releases her and crawls to the window, tightening his grip on his baseball bat. Taking a deep breath, he crawls out and is greeted by screams and gunshots from Jumin’s bodyguards. As well as a horde of zombies, heading straight for them.

“Where’s the evac van? We have to move or we’ll be surrounded!” one of the bodyguards yells through the noise. Then he spots Zen. “Sir, we need to move! There’s too much of them!”

Zen nods and reaches back inside, helping MC out of the wreckage. Helping her get to her feet, Zen does a quick survey of her face and body for any signs of injuries when MC looks behind him and screams.

Zen whirls around just as a zombie reaches for him, bloody red teeth flashing into the actor’s view. Raising his bat, Zen manages to block the zombie’s snapping jaw but he stumbles back as the zombie lunges forward, hollow white eyes staring soullessly at him. The silver-haired actor prepares to swing his bat when the zombie falls to the ground, a bullet embedded in its knee cap, blood splattering onto Zen’s pants.

“Run, sir!” a bodyguard orders, whirling around and taking aim at another zombie. “Head for Mr. Han’s building! We will follow shortly!”

Zen grabs MC’s hand and doesn’t hesitate. His mission now is to get his girlfriend and himself to the building, to safety. As Zen rounds the corner, he sees more of the undead coming their way. Spotting a clear path, Zen looks back at the bodyguards.

“Hurry! They’re closing in!” he bellows urgently. To MC, he says, “Don’t let go of my hand, MC.”

Clutching his baseball bat with one hand, Zen runs forward, dodging the zombies. One of the undead get too close, so the actor smacks the butt of his bat to its face, looking away as its decomposing face makes crunching noises. He hears her labored pants behind him and Zen realizes they can’t keep running, they needed to stop and rest. But the street in front of them is littered with zombies, hands stretched out towards them, some trying to get off from the ground while others munch away on fresh corpses. Jumin’s building is a three-minute jog from where they’re standing…but at this rate, they’d become zombie food themselves if they don’t take a detour.

“Zen, over there!” MC exclaims, tugging his hand and pulling him towards an alleyway. There’s a chain fence at the end of the alley, but there’s no sign of zombies on the other side of the fence yet —perfect. He ushers MC forward, gesturing her to climb up a dumpster to boost herself over the fence. Turning around, Zen eyes the zombies hobbling towards him. In all honesty, it should have been easy to run past the slow ones. The problem is, the zombies all seem to travel in groups. And since they don’t die, people get overwhelmed faster than they can shoot.

I need to be smart about this.

Scarlet eyes dart between the approaching horde and Zen hears MC climbing onto the dumpster just as the nearest zombie lunges for him. Zen doesn’t hesitate. He swings his arm and his bats hits its mark, the zombie’s head snapping back, its body crumpling to the ground, immobile. The actor backs away a little, watching a zombie in a bloody pinstripe suit limping towards him. A shot of fear goes through his heart, but its hair is white, its bloody face not resembling that jerk’s face at all. Still…this guy might have been someone’s father.

Shaking his head, he steels his nerves and takes another swing with his bat, slamming the zombie’s head against the wall. He hears MC land on the other side and he dares a glance behind him. She’s getting to her feet and grabbing the fence, looking at him with fear and worry.

“Hyun, come on!”

A female zombie comes close to him but Zen kicks her away before dashing for the dumpster, climbing it easily. He tosses the bat over the fence and MC catches it, but he can see her urging him to cross over to her side. Grabbing onto the fence, Zen prepares to climb it when he hears gunshots from somewhere close by. And the shuffling stops. He looks at the zombies and realize they’ve all stopped, looking around blankly before turning around and heading in the direction the noise came from.

So they’re attracted by noise?

Zen waits until the last zombie is out of the alley before he climbs the fence and jumps down on the other side, immediately scanning MC for any injuries. He gives a sigh of relief and falls back against the wall, closing his eyes. MC moves to stand in front of her boyfriend, eyes scanning him for any injuries as well. She notices that Zen’s hands are shaking. Reaching out, MC takes his hand in hers and gives his hand a slight squeeze, which makes his gaze settle on her, scarlet eyes full of fear.

Zen has never truly killed anyone before. Even when he was in the gang, he’s never killed anyone. And though what he killed were basically dead, it still felt…weird. Hitting something that resembled a person. But he knows he did the right thing by getting rid of those zombies; he just felt unsettled and anxious. MC raises his hand towards her gently and kisses the back of it, eyes not leaving his. She gives him a small smile and slight nod, her way of reassuring him that they’ll be okay.

Zen tugs her hand and pulls her against him, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. The truth was, he’s scared too. There are no words to make this better, no words to make the nightmare go away. His arms tighten around her and he kisses the side of her head. He always manages to survive, to find another way; he'll get MC to that jerk's fortress. He will never give up on her.

"Don't worry, babe. I promise Zen the Knight will get you there safe and sound."

Taking her hand, they walk down the alley and check the street. There are a few isolated zombies shuffling around, but other than that it's quiet. They walk down the street, cautiously looking around and avoiding the undead. When they reach the end of the street, Zen presses himself against the glass window of a restaurant, motioning MC to do the same. He's about to peer around the corner when he hears MC crying out.

Zen sees the rotting form of a man lurching towards MC and he doesn't hesitate. Shoving MC behind him, Zen is knocked to the ground by the force of the zombie, it's teeth right in front of the actor's face. For a decomposing corpse, it's stronger than it looks. Using his arm, he pushes back against its neck, the other hand reaching for the bat that had fallen. Zen winces as the zombie snaps its jaws forward, blood dripping onto his shirt. And then a loud crack.

The zombie stops moving and Zen shoves it to the side, breathing heavily. MC stands above him, holding the bloody bat in her hands. Quickly getting to his feet, the actor takes her hand just as moans fill the air.

No, not now. We're nearly there!

"Jagi, we'll need to run. All the way to the building." Zen sees a horde rounding the corner on the other end of the street. The couple starts to run towards Jumin's towering building despite the crowd of zombies waiting for them right outside the entrance.

Raising his bat, Zen starts smashing it into the heads of the closest ones, thankful he never skipped a day of training. MC follows behind him, managing to grab a crowbar on the street and using it to whack a few zombies too.

As the entrance draws closer, Zen sees the doors to the building opening, a team of men in suits filing to the street and firing at the horde of undead. With a burst of adrenaline, he pulls back his arms and swings the bat as hard as he can, sending a zombie tumbling back into a group. MC dashes past them and manages to dodge a zombie that reaches for her. Zen smashes the baseball against the back of its head, sweat trickling down his back as he sprints after MC. He can see Saeyoung and Jumin standing by the entrance to the building, looking at them worriedly.

Just a bit further, Hyun.

MC suddenly stops as one zombie dives for her but it immediately crumples to the ground, a bullet embedded in its head.

“Come on, hurry!” Saeyoung bellows. There’s a clear path to the building. Zen quickens his pace and places his hand on the small of MC’s back, urging her forward. When they reach the circle of bodyguards, Zen relaxes. She's safe. Yes. She's safe.

"Inside, quick." Jumin beckons them inside but Zen doesn't budge. MC turns to him, the relief in her eyes turnig to confusion as she registers the sad smile on his face.

"Zenny?"

"Jagiya...MC. Please be safe."

MC tugs his hand more urgently but Zen doesn't budge. With his other hand, he brushes his fingers against her cheek, a lump lodged in his throat. He's going to miss her. God, he still has so many plans for their future...

...had.

As he raises his other hand, his jacket slides back and reveals his arm. Blood drips from the fresh bite mark, purple and blue bruises surrounding the wound. Dark veins are visible on his arm, crawling up his upper arm and disappearing under his clothes. He watches her face crumple, watches her shake her head as realization dawns on Saeyoung's face. The hacker wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her back as she cries for Zen, hands reaching for her beloved.

It was the zombie who tackled him to the ground. Zen was naive enough to think it couldn't reach his arm...but it did.

"Hyun, no, please! We can fix this! Don't --"

"Saeyoung, Jumin...please take care of her. Don't let anything happen to her." Zen says. Jumin's stoic expression falters and despair fills his face. Saeyoung's face is hidden behind MC's back, but his grip on MC tightens.

"Hyun, don't do this! There must be a cure! Anything, please!!! Don't leave me! I love you, Hyun. We can still fix this! Let go of me!"

Zen shakes his head as Saeyoung starts dragging MC inside, the number of zombies multiplying thanks to the gunshots. Jumin clasps a hand on Zen's shoulder, sorrow etched in his features.

"Zen, you can come inside, we can--"

Zen shakes his head. "I can't put any of you in danger. Promise me --"

"I promise. With my life." Jumin answers immediately. With one last look, he gives the order to retreat into the building, MC's screams getting louder the further she is dragged inside.

"MC," Zen calls out, standing on the other side of the doors. "I love you, babe. Since the first time we met...and until my heart stops beating. I love you, Jagi."

The doors close. Zen sees his reflection on the metal barrier. The veins crawling up his neck, his scarlet eyes turning redder...

A tear slides down his cheek, but his heart is at peace. As long as she lives...he can settle with his fate. Behind him, a horde approaches the entrance.

The actor closes his eyes just as he feels the impact of the bodies behind him.

Zen opens his eyes and jerks into a sitting position, taking in his surroundings in a rush. The familiar wallpaper, the feel of the soft blanket under his fingers…and MC, turning towards him in her sleep. He couldn’t resist. Zen leans down and plants a kiss on her cheek before claiming her lips, wrapping an arm around her and relishing in her warmth. God, he thought he was never going to see her again. Her face, her eyes, her smile…Zen cups her cheek with one hand and moves closer, not relenting on his kisses until he feels her lips moving against his.

“Mmm…Zenny?” MC murmurs sleepily as Zen puts his forehead against hers and grabs her waist, pulling her close to him. She opens one eye and strokes his cheek, taking note of the worried crease on his forehead. “Babe, did you have a bad dream?”

The actor nods. “Yeah…a really bad one. I dreamt I became a zombie, Jagi. During the apocalypse.”

A smile spreads across MC’s face and she bridges the gap between them, kissing him again. “Well, I hope I was a zombie too. Because no way am I going to live in the apocalypse without you.”

Zen chuckles and shakes his head. “No…MC, you were safe. I saved you.”

“And that’s how you know it’s a dream.” MC places her arms around his neck. “Because I wouldn’t leave without you, Hyun Ryu. I wouldn’t live without you.”

“Who’s the actor here?”

MC laughs. “I’ve picked up a line or two from watching your rehearsals.”

Zen breathes a sigh of relief and cuddles his girlfriend, glad that it was just a dream and that he can still hold her like this…that he isn’t a threat to her. “I love you, Jagi. I’m happy I’m not a zombie.”

“Me too, Zenny. I’m glad you’re not a zombie either.”

Zen tucks his chin on her head as he strokes her hair, his eyes feeling heavy again. Hopefully, he’d have better dreams this time. He feels her body go slack under his embrace, her breathing evening out. The actor is about to drift off to sleep…

…when he hears something thumping outside. Alarmed, Zen carefully untangles himself from MC and goes outside, looking around the living room. Weird. He could’ve sworn he heard something.

He’s about to head back to bed when there’s a thud on the front door. And then another. Like…hands slamming against the door. Softly at first. And then they get louder, more urgent. The song of the dead infiltrating his ears.

The actor reaches for his bat.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it! <3 Let me know what you think! :) Huhu i miss writing for the fandom but these days, I’ve been busy working on my original fics! I hope you guys can support them too :D Hopefully I can post something soon :D Thanks guys for all the support!! ;A; it means so much to me! Thank you and I hope you have a great weekend ;)

Check out my other Mysme writings here!

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biostudyblog · 5 years ago

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Animal/Bio-Diversity Facts!

I combined these two topics because there’s a lot of overlap, and I decided that taking notes on both really helped me understand what the other is trying to say. This will be a long post, strap yourself in.

Organisms are organized and classified via a system known as Taxonomy. This system was developed by a scientist named Carl Linnaeus. To identify individual organisms, binomial nomenclature is used. What this means is each organism is called by their genus and species name. For example, Homo sapien, Pyrrhura molinae, (Green cheek conure), and Betta splendens.

There were originally 6 taxa or levels of organization developed by Linnaeus; kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, and species. The 20th century saw many changes to Linnaeus’ original system of organization. The 3 original kingdoms were expanded to 5; Monera, Protista, Fungi, Plantae, and Animalia, a 6th, Archaebacteria was added to represent extremophiles that were so intense they had to be separated from bacteria to give their coolness more merit.

Today's scientists added a 7th level, domain. We use a 3-domain system based on DNA analysis. These domains are eukarya, bacteria, and archaea. Monera stopped being used as the prokaryotes were split between bacteria and archaea. Archaea are in fact, not bacteria, and so were given their own domain.

Here are some characteristics shared among members of the same domain:

Bacteria

All members of this domain are unicellular prokaryotes. This means that they lack internal membranes, like a nucleus, mitochondria, or chloroplasts)

Some are anaerobic (metabolize without oxygen) some are aerobic (metabolize with oxygen)

In the environment, some are decomposers, meaning they decompose and recycle dead organic material.

Some are pathogens, such as some strains of E.coli.

Speaking of E.coli, they also play a vital role in genetic engineering. E.coli is used to manufacture human insulin

Some reproduce using conjugation. This is a primitive process, where individuals exchange genetic material

They have a thick and rigid cell wall

Some, like blue-green algae, are autotrophic (make their own food) others are heterotropic (depend on complex organic substances for food)

Have no introns (noncoding segments of DNA)

Archaea

Also unicellular prokaryotes

Include extremophiles, which are organisms that live in extreme environments. Some examples are Methanogens (obtain energy by producing methane from hydrogen) Halophiles (thrive in extremely salty environments, such as the Dead Sea) and Thermophiles (thrive in extremely high temperatures, like Yellowstone's hot springs)

Have introns present in some of their genes

Eukarya

Have a nucleus and internal, membrane-bound organelles

Include: Protista, Fungi, Plantae, and Animalia

Moving into kingdoms, there are 4. These are the 4 mentioned above, fungi, Protista, Plantae, and Animalia. Here are some traits for each:

Protista

Most are unicellular, however, some are primitive multicellular organisms.

Include both heterotrophs (like amoeba, and paramecium) and autotrophs (like euglenas)

Move using different structures, such as pseudopods in amoeba, cilia in paramecium, and flagella in euglenas.

Include organisms not cool enough to sit with the fungi or Plantae kingdoms, like seaweed and slime mould.

Some, like algae and paramecium, carry out conjugation

Some can cause serious diseases like amoebic dysentery and malaria

Fungi

All are heterotrophic

Include unicellular and multicellular organisms

Able to digest extracellularly by secreting hydrolytic enzymes, and absorbing the nutrients via diffusion.

Are essential to the environment, as they are decomposers. They are saprobes, which mean they eat decaying organic matter.

They have cell walls, however, unlike plants whose cell walls are made of cellulose, their cell walls are made of chitin.

Lichens are fungi and algae living in a mutualistic, symbiotic relationship. Lichens are strong enough to withstand harsh, unforgiving environments, thus are often the pioneer organisms (the first to colonize a new environment).

They reproduce asexually by budding, like yeast, spore formation, like bread mould, or fragmentation (aka 1 parent breaks itself into several, living pieces), however, some can reproduce sexually.

Plantae

All are multicellular, nonmotile, and autotrophic.

Their cell walls, as mentioned above, are made of cellulose.

Plants can create their own food by photosynthesis, which uses chlorophyll a and b.

Their carbohydrates are stored as starch

They reproduce sexually by alternating between the gametophyte and sporophyte generations.

Some (tracheophytes) have vascular tissue while others (bryophytes) do not.

Animalia

All are heterotrophic, multicellular, and motile

Most reproduce sexually with a dominant diploid (2n) stage

In most, a sperm with a flagellum fertilizes a large, nonmotile egg.

Animals are classified, traditionally based on anatomical features (homologous structures) and embryonic development.

There are 35 phyla. Since I want to eat something today, I’ll go over the 9 the Barron’s SAT book describes, which are Porifera, cnidarians, Platyhelminthes, nematodes, annelids, molluscs, arthropods, echinoderms, and chordates.

Each animal phylum represents the evolution of a new, successful body plan. Some of these trends include specialisation of tissues, germ layers, body symmetry, the development of a head end, and body cavity formation.

Specialized cells, tissues, and organs

The cell is the basic unit of all life, for example, fat cells. Tissue is the next block up and is a collection of tissues performing a function, such as adipose tissue. An organ is a group of tissues working together to perform a similar function. For example, the brain.

Organisms making up the phylum Porifera, like sponges are made of a loose confederation of cells. Since those cells are not specialized, they are not considered tissue. These cells can react to stimuli, however, lack muscle or nerve tissue.

Organisms making up the phylum cnidaria possess tissue, however the most primitive and simple form of tissue. However, no organs. Flatworms do have organs, however, lack an organ system. Annelids, however, possess a full organ system.

Germ Layers

Germ layers make up the tissues and organs of the body. They form early in embryonic development. There are 3 kinds, however, not all organisms have all 3.

Ectoderm- outermost layer, makes up skin and nervous system

Mesoderm- middle layer, becomes blood, muscles, and bones

Endoderm- innermost layer, makes up the viscera (guts)

Porifera and cnidarians only have 2 layers. They lack mesoderm and instead have mesoglea or middle glue which holds the 2 layers together. Organisms that have 3 true germ layers are called triploblastic.

Body Symmetry

Most primitive animals exhibit radial symmetry. More complex animals exhibit bilateral symmetry. This is displayed in the drawings below. Echinoderms are a key exception to this rule. They develop with bilateral symmetry, however, as an adult, they exhibit radial symmetry. In bilateral symmetry, the body mirrors itself along the left and right on the longitudinal axis.

This also means that Patrick Star is not drawn biologically accurate. Shame.

Body Cavity Formation

The coelom is a fluid-filled body cavity, completely surrounded by mesoderm tissue. It is found only in more evolutionarily advanced organisms. Organisms like flatworms, who lack a coelom are known as acoelomates. Organisms, like nematodes or roundworms, who have a fluid-filled tube between the endoderm and mesoderm, functioning as a hydrostatic skeleton, are known as pseudocoelomates. Coelomates are organisms with a true coelom. Annelida, Mollusca, Arthropoda, and Chordata are all phyla that have this structure.

Development of a Head (Cephilization)

Organisms that developed bilateral symmetry also have an anterior and posterior end. (The head and rear end). The sensory apparatus and brain, or ganglia in less developed organisms are organized on the anterior end, while digestion, excretion, and reproduction all keep their organs on the posterior end. Cephilization began with flatworms.

Here is a cladogram to help visualize when different traits developed.

Traits of 9 different phyla:

Porifera:

No symmetry at all

No nerve or muscle tissue, sessile (nonmotile)

Filter nutrients from water drawn into a central cavity

Like many other primitive organisms, they only have 2 cell layers, ectoderm and endoderm, with the noncellular mesoglea holding them together

They have specialized cells, however, there is no organization to the cells, therefore they do not have tissue or organs.

Evolved from colonial organisms: fun fact, you can push a sponge through a cheesecloth, which will separate into individual cells, all and become a sponge. This is related to how a sponge reproduces

They reproduce asexually via fragmentation, meaning each piece that is separated has the necessary cells to become an individual organism. This means that technically,

Spongebob is reproducing here. Good on him.

They also reproduce sexually. They are hermaphrodites, meaning that they have characteristics of both males and females.

Cnidarians

Include organisms like hydra and jellyfish

Radial symmetry

Body plan is a polyp (vase-shaped, like hydra) which is mostly sessile or medusa (upside-down bowl-shaped, like jellyfish) which is mostly motile.

Life cycle- although there are exceptions, some go through a planula larva (free-swimming) stage, then proceed to their reproductive stage, that being asexual (polyps, ) or sexual (medusas)

Only have ectoderm and endoderm cell layers

Have a gastrovascular cavity where extracellular digestion occurs. They only have one opening to this cavity, so waste and food both go through the mouth.

Have lysosomes where intracellular digestion occurs.

No transport system, since each cell is in contact with the outside environment.

All have stinging cells (cnidocytes) for protection, with nematocysts, which are stingers.

Platyhelminthes

Include organisms like flatworms like tapeworms

These are the most simple organisms with bilateral symmetry, an anterior end, and 3 distinct cell layers (ectoderm, endoderm, and mesoderm... yay bones muscle and blood!)

The digestive cavity has only 1 opening for egestion and ingestion, like cnidaria, so food can’t be continuously processed.

Their body is solid and has no room for a true digestive and respiratory system to circulate food or oxygen. The solution to this problem was to develop an extremely flat and thin body that allowed most of their body cells to have contact with the outside and thus exchange nutrients and waste via diffusion.

Nematodes

Include roundworms like pinworms

Unsegmented worms with bilateral symmetry, but very little sensory apparatus.

A large majority of them are parasitic. Trichinosis is caused by the worm Trichinella, which is often found in uncooked pork.

C. elegans is often used as an animal model when studying genes and embryonic development.

Digestive tract is two way, meaning they have a mouth and an anus

Annelids

Include earthworms and leeches

Segmented worms with bilateral symmetry, and very little sensory apparatus.

Two-way digestive tract, and a tube within a tube, consisting of a crop, gizzard, and intestine.

They have a nephridium, which is a tubule responsible for the excretion of nitrogen waste, urea.

They have a closed circulatory system and a heart with 5 pairs of aortic arches

Diffuse oxygen and carbon dioxide through their moist skin

Hermaphrodites

Mollusca

Include squids, octopi, slugs, clams and snails.

Have soft bodies, protected by hard calcium shells

They have open circulatory systems. This means they don’t have capillaries, however, have blood-filled spaces called hemocoels, or sinuses.

Have bilateral symmetry and 3 distinct body zones: The head-foot, with sensory and motor organs, Visceral mass, with organs of digestion, excretion, and reproduction, and the mantle, a specialized tissue that surrounds the visceral mass and produces the shell.

They have something known as a radula, which is moveable and has teeth, that behaves like a tongue.

Many have gills and nephridia

Arthropods

Include insecta (like grasshoppers), crustacea (like shrimp and crabs), and arachnida (like spiders and scorpions

Have jointed appendages

Segmented into head, thorax, and abdomen

Contain more sensory apparatuses than annelids which means they can move much more freely

Have an exoskeleton made of a polysaccharide known as chitin.

They also have an open circulatory system, with a tubular hard and hemocoels

For excretion, they have structures known as Malpighian tubules, which remove the nitrogenous waste; uric acid.

They have air ducts known as trachea which bring air from the environment into hemocoels.

Echinoderms

Include sea stars and sea urchins.

Most are sessile, or slow-moving (so stop judging Patrick. It’s just how he was born)

They are an exception to the bilateral symmetry rule. As embryos, they have bilateral symmetry, however, as they develop, they develop radial symmetry. This evolved for their sedentary lifestyle.

They have a water vascular system, which creates hydrostatic support for their tube feet which allow for locomotion

They reproduce sexually via external fertilization

They also have the ability to reproduce asexually via fragmentation, and regeneration. As long as the new sea star has part of the central canal, it will become a new organism.

They have an endoskeleton with calcium plates. Endoskeletons grow with the body, as opposed to exoskeletons that have to be shed

Chordates

Include vertebrae (like us!)

Chordates have a notochord which is a rod that extends the length of the body and is a flexible axis.

They have a dorsal, hollow nerve cord

The tail is responsible for movement and balance. We, humans, have a coccyx, which is a vestige of what was once our tail. Hence the name, tailbone.

Birds and mammals are homeotherms, meaning they are able to maintain consistent body temperature. The other chordates, like fish, reptiles, and amphibians are cold-blooded.

Let’s get specific, with mammals (because mammals are a superior class of animals. I would know, I am one.)

Mammals are named after their mammary glands. These glands let mothers provide milk to their babies.

They all have hair or fur

They are endotherms, meaning they generate their hair from within

Most are placental mammals, also known as eutherians. The embryo develops internally in a uterus connected to the mother via a placenta. Since the embryo is unable to perform essential functions such as digestion and excretion by itself, until late into the pregnancy, the placenta diffuses nutrients in and waste out for the baby.

Marsupials are an interesting class of animals. Their babies are born extremely early in development (after about 36 days), however, the mother has a pouch, where the baby will nurse until around 9 months.

Most mammals give birth to live young. There are exceptions to this rule, as our favourite egg-laying mammal of action’s theme explained to us. (Dooby dooby dooa dooby dooby dooaa AGENT P!)

Platypi and spiny anteaters derive their nutrients from a shelled egg.

Getting even more specific, let’s talk about primates. These are the least superior mammals. I should know. I am one.

Primates were descendants of insectivores. They have dexterous hands, and opposable thumbs, which allow their hands to perform fine motor tasks. Instead of claws, they have nails

Their hands contain many nerve endings, making them very sensitive (which is why papercuts are so agonizingly painful.) Their eyes are forward-facing and close together. This allows face to face communication. Close eyes allow for overlapping fields of vision, increasing depth perception and hand-eye coordination.)

Primates engage in the most intensive parenting out of any mammal. They tend to have single births and build strong bonds with their young.

The book organized 3 different organisms based on their taxonomy. I put that down and added rats because rats are cool. Don’t @ me.

Cladograms

Cladograms are an extremely useful tool to show how organisms evolved different traits over time. There is a more complicated one above, however, the book included an extremely simplified one also that helped me understand how these graphs are made, so I will include that here as well.

First, like any graph, a table is made detailing the data that will be graphed. In this case, this data will be the specific organisms (cats, lizards, salmons, and earthworms) and the existence of specific traits (backbone, legs, and hair.)

Then a line is drawn, showing each trait as it developed, following by the organism with that trait.

What this graph shows is that cats and lizards are more related than lizards and earthworms, etc. Tldr; a cladogram/phylogenetic tree draws distinctions between shared traits (traits different organisms have in common) and derived traits (traits that the ancestor did not have) displayed in such a way so as to show the evolutionary history of a group of organisms.

So what qualifies an animal? Animals are multicellular eukaryotes. They are all heterotrophs, meaning they acquire nutrients via ingestion. (Unlike plants, which manage to get nutrients through photosynthesis, such as the Calvin Cycle which produces a plants sugar.) All animals can move in some form.

Movement is a broad term. Beating cilia, and waving tentacles both count as movement. The movement that often comes to peoples minds, however, is locomotion, which is the movement from place to place. Some animals are sessile, which means they lack the capability to move from place to place. Hydra can still wave their tentacles (in the air like they just don’t care). Sponges are an interesting case, as many legitimately, cannot move.

Above, I mentioned terms like endoskeletons, exoskeletons, and hydrostatic skeletons. Hydrostatic skeletons are closed body compartments filled with fluid, that provide support. Exoskeletons are external, nongrowing skeletons, made of chitin (which also makes up the cell walls of fungi). Endoskeletons are internal skeletons made of bone and cartilage that grow with the organism. They are connected to each other at joints via ligaments, and to skeletal muscles (voluntary muscles) via the tendons.

All life has the ability to maintain homeostasis. Life survives within a narrow temperature range, from around 0 degrees Celsius to around 50 degrees celsius. In the ocean, this was not a massive problem, as it is the most stable environment temperature-wise, as water is able to absorb a lot of heat. However, the land is a lot more crazy. Different organisms found different ways to adapt and survive.

For example, a jackrabbit's ears are a major tell about what climate they live in. Jackrabbits that survive in the cold have small ears to minimize heat loss. Jackrabbits living in the heat have large ears that allow heat to dissipate, filled with small capillaries making the ears appear pink.

Huddling, basking, panting and sweating, swarming, and shivering are all examples of adaptations different organisms use to survive in extreme temperature. Depending on whether an organism is an ectotherm or endotherm, their temperature regulation will be different. An ectotherm is heated from the outside. For example, crocodiles bask in the warm sun to heat their bodies up. Endotherms or homeotherms generate their heat from the inside by using large quantities of energy. For example, a litter of cold puppies will huddle together and with their mother, as their warmth, and their mothers warmth help heat them up.

Excretion refers to the removal of metabolic waste, such as excess water, carbon dioxide, and nitrogenous waste. There are 3 different kinds produced by different organisms

Ammonia

Ammonia is soluble in water and extremely toxic. Anybody who takes proper care of a fish tank is aware that cleaning the ammonia from their tank is essential in keeping their fish healthy.

Excreted mainly by marine life, like hydra and fish.

Urea

Not as toxic as ammonia

Excreted by earthworms and humans (urine contains urea and water)

In mammals, the liver is responsible for turning ammonia into urea.

Uric Acid

A paste-like substance that isn’t soluble, and not very toxic

Excreted by insects, many reptiles, and birds, and allow for the preservation of water.

Different organisms have different structures that allow for excretion.

Hydra excretes ammonia with no aid from any excess structure.

Platyhelminthes have flame cells that help them excrete ammonia

Earthworms have nephridia (metanephridia) to excrete Urea

Insects have Malpighian tubules to excrete uric acid

Humans have nephrons to excrete urea.

Following up, let's look at 3 different organisms and the characteristics that make them unique!

Hydra (from Cnidaria)

Hyrda digest their food in the gastrovascular cavity. They, unfortunately only have one hole, where food goes in and waste comes out. The gastrodermis (gastrovascular cavity lining, or gastrocoel) secrete digestive enzymes to help extracellular digestion progress. Lysosomes, which are found in animal cells are responsible for intracellular digestion.

Hydra reproduces asexually by budding. A bud is a genetically identical, but tiny little hydra that grows within or on the parent.

Earthworms (From Annelida)

The digestive system of earthworms is much more complex than that of the hydra. Luckily, they have a mouth and an anus. The mouth ingests decaying organic matter along with the soil. The food travels down the oesophagus into the crop. The crop stores the food until it is ready to be digested. The food then moves into the gizzard, with thick muscular walls that digest the food mechanically, with the aid of the ingested sand and soil. The food moves into the intestines, where chemical digestion occurs. The intestine has a large fold, called the typhlosole, which increases the surface area.

Worms don’t have a traditional respiratory system. Instead, gas is exchanged by diffusion, through moist skin. This type of respiratory system is called an external respiratory system. Their hearts have 5 aortic arches that pump blood. Worms have capillaries, giving them a closed circulatory system. Their blood contains haemoglobin, making it red. Earthworms have nephridia, excreting urea, and are hermaphrodites. A worms brain is made of two dorsal, solid, fused ganglia, with a solid, ventral, nerve cord.

Grasshoppers (From Arthropoda)

Grasshoppers also have a digestive tract consisting of a crop and gizzard. They also have mouthparts specialized for tasting, biting, and crushing food, and their gizzard has chitin plates that aid in mechanical digestion. Their digestive tract contains Malpighian tubules that remove nitrogenous waste in the form of uric acid. (No, I did not draw a grasshopper. I know when I am defeated.)

Grasshoppers have a similar nervous system to worms, however, they have an open circulatory system. They lack capillaries, and blood moves through hemocoels instead. Arthropod blood has no haemoglobin. They have an internal respiratory surface because gas exchange occurs on the inside. They have a system of tracheal tubes that lead to the hemocoels. Oxygen is carried by hemocyanin, with copper as the core atom. This is why molluscs and insects have blue blood.

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tracle0 · 5 years ago

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YA LIKE RADIO?

I’m asking because I definitely need to know and also because it’s a thing I’m gonna teach you about a bit here. Or, not really. It’s time for some more #worldbuilding kids. I’ll put a cool fact at the bottom as well, don’t worry.

If you haven’t read my previous worldbuilding bit about masks, you don’t have to but it’s pretty neat I would say

I’ve mentioned before that my WIP Sonder was very inspired by Night Vale. As a result, I was a shameful knock-off and put a radio station complete with a cool radio host in my book because you can’t stop me and you shouldn’t try.

There they are! Atlas Barnabus!

‘Woah Trade that’s interesting their name is on the stairs but in red’ yes! You are correct, well done you clever little noodle. That’s part of this big ol’ explanation.

So, the radio station is basically sentient. It doesn’t move and rarely communicates anything, but it can. Don’t ask me too much about this, it’s just a Fact of Sonder and you don’t question those.

One form of communication this radio station has is the ability to chose the person who will host the broadcast. This is done by having their name appear on the stairs - so hey, if you didn’t want to but your name is there, you got no choice.

(Although the station does know who does and doesn’t want to so won’t force you if you’re against it).

The name(s) in red are the station's alive hosts. Typically it’s one name, but it can be two. For a small staple of time, it was three, while the next one was being trained but the old one was still alive. But, as happens with all of them, they died and soon there was one name left in red.

‘Okay but why the different colours?’ I’m getting there don’t worry.

Red names are the people who are alive, who are able to host still. Black names are the past hosts. Cool fact about the radio station - people who have been hosts but then died become zombie interns

‘WHAT’ yeah, it saves a lot on labour costs. These interns have their own opinions and thoughts but will follow what the alive host asks, and do a lot to ensure the show actually goes well. They also have their own language of hissing and rattling and being general zombies. They don’t remember much about their alive-life. It still leads to awkward encounters.

With every new alive-host or red-name, the names trickle down a step. Once a black-name has reached the bottom, the zombie is relieved of duty and free to move on into whatever happens next. There are nine steps in total, so you get one lifetime of being the host and then eight of helping out.

These zombies do decompose, but they do not smell. Or, not as badly as they could. Lots of them took to wearing car fresheners around their neck to help with the stench.

Another cool thing about the radio stations sentience - it is very bratty. Like, really bratty. If you put something in it that it doesn’t like, it will throw it out and you’ll find your item floating on the lake. As a result, our current host Atlas has only managed to put one (1) item in the station in their entire time training/hosting, and that was a book. An atlas, to be exact, because they are not subtle.

This would not happen to people. It does not barricade people from getting in. Sure, you can try and fortify the station, but the door will still swing open and let anyone in. Does that fact ever come into play?

I can’t say.

Note about Sonder in general: doors open by themselves, and you will not open a door unless you want a sudden vanishing and presumably painful death. This is not a special feature of the station specifically.

‘Okay that’s cool and all but if the door opens by itself why is Atlas outside in your picture if they’re not locked out?’ Another good question, nice nice. Not really world-building, but Atlas has extreme arachnophobia. As in, they have not been using the station's bathroom ever since they found a spider making a web in there. Is the spider dead by now? Probably. Is that going to change their mind and are they going to use the bathroom knowing this? Nope.

There’s probably a spider in the station at the moment in the picture and their boyfriend is getting it out for them while they sulk outside.

‘Also, if doors send you to an unknown location and a painful death, could you put a zombie intern through the door and ask them what happens when they get back?’ I’m putting this question in because I just thought of it. I have no idea. I’m going to lean towards ‘because they’re already dead they can go through/open doors by themselves without consequence’ but you did me a Think.

‘Oh hey, fair enough it’s cool to discover new stuff about your WIP while writing out worldbuilding about it. Also, what’s that on the far left wall?’ Nothing. There’s nothing there. Don’t even THINK about looking there. There’s nothing to see.

Fun fact: Check the palms of your hands quickly. Most people have two distinct lines (and lots of little ones) - a heartline and headline. Look this up if you need help finding yours. On my left hand, this is true for me too, but on my right, there’s only one line. This is called a simian line and is very common in people with Down Syndrome (50% of them have a simian line) but fairly rare with the general population (only 2% have it). Yes, while I was in the womb I was at high genetic risk of having Down Syndrome. No, I do not have Down Syndrome.

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asterinjapan · 5 years ago

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Walks through history and caves

Hello again!

Today was a hot and sunny day, so of course I spent most of it inside, haha. That’s not as much of a shame as you might think, because I saw some lovely things and I didn’t melt. That’s always a plus.

Follow me behind the link for today’s report on Okinawa World and the Okinawa prefectural museum!

So, yeah, two things today again. I have a bunch of things I want to do or visit, but not all of them can be combined due to bus lines being very inconvenient. In general they’re pretty great, but sometimes two things are like 5 kilometers apart and yet the fastest way by bus is going to the other side of the island first… So I stayed up late last night and scrambled up my list to see what came up. As it turns out, the Prefectural museum is on the other side than anything else I’d like to visit, and would thus always require a trip back to Naha. That would be the plan for the afternoon then!

In the morning, I went to Okinawa World. It’s a theme park of sorts about, well, Okinawa, and frankly the majority of it is… well. I mostly came here for the cave, which we will get to later, because upon entering, I learnt that there would be a performance in ten minutes, so I went there first. It turned out to be a traditional Eisa-style drum and dance performance and boy, did that group pack a punch! Near the end they rolled in an absolutely massive drum as well, those were some intense vibrations, haha. Despite the heat (it was open-air, although underneath a tent cover), time flew and I had a good time during the performance. I however can’t say it’s music I’d very quickly buy a CD of, because I feel this is something you have to experience.

After that, I made my way to the limestone cave, Gyokusendo, the second biggest in Japan. It was formed over the past 300,000 years and measures 15 kilometers in length, although only a little less than 1 kilometer is accessible to the public. And accessible it is: there’s a metal walkway with guardrails and at the end there’s an escalator, so you don’t have to climb stairs all the way up again.

The most impressive part is right at the beginning: once you descend the first flight of stairs, you face an absolutely massive room full of stalactites and stalagmites. It’s pretty dark in here, but there are enough lights to find your way and take pictures without needing excessive flash. And although mankind has carved itself a path through the cave, it’s definitely still a natural beauty. The cave narrows the further you get, and at one point they’ve had to carve a pathway through the stalactites since they had gotten too dense. The big dangers here are tripping as the ceiling drips incessantly, and hitting your head against a stalactite, haha.

Here and there, special places were marked and occasionally got special lights, like a blue pool of water and a waterfall.

Overall, I really enjoyed this walk, especially since it was only 21 C down here, haha. That was quite the clash once I got back outside, with 30 C and sun. The cave exit leads you into the Kingdom Village, which is full of work shops that all require additional fees, and a bunch of souvenir shops. Uh, yeah, it’s a bit overly commercial here, haha, but I was prepared for that and thus didn’t really mind. Outside the cave they were selling commemorative pictures which they had taken before entering the actual cave, so I uh, caved and got that one. I should be able to download it tomorrow too, so that’s nice! I still look very jetlagged on that picture, but hey, not a lot of full-body shots of me here otherwise, haha. It’s all selfies or nothing.

I walked through Kingdom Village fairly quickly, although it looked very nice. Scents of all kinds of food were mingling, and that didn’t exactly do wonders to my stomach along with the heat. I most definitely skipped out on the snake show (thankfully you can opt out of paying for that in the first place) and looked up my bus times. Still plenty of time left, and thus I crossed the street to find a café.

Not just any café, however – the Cave Café! Across the street lies the Gangala valley. You can only take a tour if you make reservations, and I’d juuuust come out of a cave, but you can still take a seat and have a drink at the café. Which was really cool, because it is indeed inside a cave, with stalactites dripping above you. They served soft drinks with flavored ice blocks, so I asked for the most popular combination (lemon and – something) and took a seat.

After soaking in the cool air and the pretty views for a while, I went out to find the bus stop. The bus took me back to my starting point, about 9 minutes away from my hotel, but I wasn’t done yet for today! No, I boarded the next bus which brought me to the Okinawa Prefectural Museum. Although I must confess I rushed into the nearest shopping center first to find a bathroom and a water tap, haha.

After that, I walked to the museum and got myself a ticket for the general exhibition in the historic museum, skipping out of the art museum and special exhibitions as it was already close to 4 PM. I didn’t have to rush, though, since the museum is open until 8 PM on Fridays and Saturdays.

And I’m happy I didn’t have to rush, because whoa, this museum is packed! I got a free audio guide, which came with 50 (!) audio spots, and consisted of a map with a digital pen. You set the pen to your preferred language and then tapped the audio spot on the map. To be fair, if you listen to all audio clips, it takes much longer to make your way through, haha, but it definitely added to the experience.

The museum has a very impressive opening with a glass floor looking down into the coral life that surrounds the islands of Okinawa prefecture. Right in the first hall, there’s a relief map on the floor of the islands, and with light projections, they show how the islands were formed over the ages. The history museum really lived up to its name and covered the entire history of the Ryukyu islands right from the earliest human being discovered there, to the kings and culture, until the eventual 17th century invasion by Satsuma (currently Kagoshima in the south of Japan) and eventually annexed by Japan in 1879 as the Okinawa prefecture, only to be briefly under USA command following the horrific and devastating Battle of Okinawa in 1945. Okinawa was returned to Japan in the 70s, but the relationship remains difficult as many Ryukyuans feel independent of Japan. Sure enough, Ryukyu culture is a mix of Japanese, Chinese and other influences and yet has its own character, and even managed to remain a kingdom under Satsuma and Japan, be it with adjustments to become a vassal state. Current concerns are the loss of Ryukyu identity due to mixing with Japan and Japanese attempts to push their language and culture onto Okinawa.

So yeah, pretty difficult topics presented in a mostly neutral manner, but there was still more to discover. The natural history part went into length about the unique eco systems of Okinawa’s different islands, with very specific species of insects, birds and so on that got cut off from the rest of the world early on and now only exist here. They went the extra mile and replicated the environments here, trees and all, with animals hiding in between the trees for you to find (not live ones, of course).

Other parts of the museum discussed all aspects of life, including funerals, and this is where I truly learnt why the urns at the Tamaudun Mausoleum were surprisingly big. They do not contain ashes, since cremation wasn’t par of the course back then. Instead, once the body had decomposed, there was a bone washing ceremony and then the bones were deposited into the urn, their actual final resting place. Apparently the urns are now sought after because they’re pretty and there have already been instances or grave robbing… Geesh.

Aside from that slightly disturbing note, there were more folklore exhibits, such as the dressing up as the gods, which was on tv the other day and confused me completely, haha. The person dressed up as god, Miruku, supposedly comes from across the sea (which is something akin to heaven for people living on an island) and brings good fortune. Other gods must be appeased as they might bring bad omens. And unlike mainland Japan, it’s the women here who are spiritually superior and communicate with the deities as priestesses. I think I could have watched an entire museum on that topic alone, haha, but they did a good job covering the basics here considering how broad their scope is.

There are also a couple of traditional buildings outside, but I didn’t stay there for long since well, I just visited the Nakamura house already, haha. And I was getting really, really tired – although I had a great time at the museum, I was secretly kind of glad to be through. It made for an interesting contrast with Okinawa world, although I can’t say the latter felt super ingenuine or something. Just – commercially inclined. But I’m not sure in how far Okinawan/Ryukyu culture is actually oppressed and in how far it is akin to what I’ve heard the Ainu people on Hokkaido say: that they feel they had to put on a costume to even show their culture at all. I don’t think that’s the case here, but I’m way too uninformed still to say something sensible about that on Okinawa, so I’ll leave that to your discretion. Maybe I’m just spouting sleep-deprived nonsense here, who knows, haha.

After that contemplation, I had a (slightly too big, but still) delicious dinner in the mall, which hosts several traditionally Japanese food stands, and then walked to the bus stop on the other side of the road. Technically the wait for the bus meant that I could just walk back to my hotel and arrive there at the same time, but it had been a long day and it was past 7 PM, which means it’s dark here, so uh, the bus it is, haha.

And now I’m back in my hotel! Longest day so far, so I don’t know what I’m up to for tomorrow. I have enough to choose from, that’s for sure! Photos will be up soon, and thank you for reading all of that. See you tomorrow!

#report #japan 2019 #report: japan 2019

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