#the windmill of futility

[shallowrambles]

Core wound of the solder + Mary Cambell + the wound of feeling powerless

On doors, SPNwin 1x05

"Every door to every future I could possible have closed that night forever.

Not today. But someday. I'm gonna find a way to open all the doors that were closed for you. I promise."

Mary Campbell

Followed by a cover of Noel Harrison's Windmills of your Mind:

Round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel Like a snowball down a mountain, or a carnival balloon Like a carousel that's turning running rings around the moon Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind!

Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone Like a door that keeps revolving in a half forgotten dream Or the ripples from a pebble someone tosses in a stream Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind!

Keys that jingle in your pocket, words that jangle in your head Why did summer go so quickly, was it something that you said? Lovers walking along a shore and leave their footprints in the sand Is the sound of distant drumming just the fingers of your hand? Pictures hanging in a hallway and the fragment of a song Half remembered names and faces, but to whom do they belong?

When you knew that it was over you were suddenly aware That the autumn leaves were turning to the color of her hair! Like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel As the images unwind, like the circles that you find In the windmills of your mind!

[literallys-illiteracy]

ok, Quixotisms time.

OBVIOUS SPOILERS WARNING FOR CANTO 7 AND CANTO 7 PART 3. ALSO FOR THE ENDING OF THE ORIGINAL DON QUIXOTE BOOK I SUPPOSE?

So lets start off with the obvious references that one can draw.

The Priest, Barber, and Sanson were a trio within the book of Don Quixote who attempted to have Quixano (Don) regain his senses and rationality.

Dulcinea is an unseen, fictional love interest which Don Quixote creates in his mind due to the belief that he must have a love interest to pursue.

Sancho is the squire and sidekick of Quixote, whom was a servant of Quixano, asked to leave the village and thus his family (wife and daughters) (lesbian Don propaganda grows stronger by the day).

The windmill itself is probably the most recognisable non-character reference within the canto, with Don's famous charge against Windmills/Giants in the first part of the story.

Sancho and Don, at the end of the Second part, return to their home village, La Mancha Land acting as a surrogate, wherein Don renounces his notions of chivalry on deathbed — This is the obvious inspiration to the ending of the canto in whole wherein we see the "Sancho-ification" of Quixote, becoming disillusioned with these dreams, the same way ...Quixote... [i need a better way of separating Don Quixote (sancho), Don Quixote (elder), Don Quixote (madman) and Quixano) did within La Mancha Land following the ending to his quest, after he fully sees the futility of what he seeks. Sought. Simultaneously, Sancho's arc was one inspired by that of this same return to hearth; In the final moments of Quixote, when he renounced chivalry and his adventures, is the moment when Sancho becomes "quixotified", seeing towards the ideal, suggesting that they become shepherds to a flock, seeking an unreachable dream.

The continuation of his dream by Sancho in Limbus is a direct reference to the ending of Don Quixote, though the more direct and... violent method of convincing Sancho otherwise.

The mili song is peak, nothing more to add there.

The Knight of the White Moon, who in the book was Sanson (another resident of Quixano's hometown) playing the role of a knight, has been changed to Bari, who seems to be related somehow to a lot more different things, having skills that reference Lobotomy Corporation Damage types (in the Play-duel with Don/Sancho) including the same "mental Fracture" effect that the Fruit of Understanding had, alongsider her resemblance to the unnamed bookhunter from a Library of Ruina ending.

Sanson is blue. also Sanson plays a very different role, not being the Knight of the white moon, nor the Knight of Mirrors (another knight that he masqueraded as). Nor Sanson is from Quixote's hometown, nor does he wish to bring Quixote back to his senses. I am thoroughly confused and i have a headache so i cant be bothered to think more about this.

[meganehaise]

Thank you for the response to the form I posted before. With 18 submissions, we successfully managed to create our own quanyin-shaped exquisite corpse! I did the opening and closing sentences, but it was thanks to everyone's creativeness that something this wild and entertaining was put together.

Participants: Mango, Hiro, Redlikerozes, Ashen, Liv, J, Cherries, Mthaytr, Senju and the three anonymous participants.

This is posted today for day 5 of QuanYin Week, using (initially) the prompt "earrings". Enjoy!

Exquisite Corpse Story

With Quan Yizhen's birthday approaching, Yin Yu decides to gift him a pair of golden earrings. Quan Yizhen doesn't really put earrings on, so Yin Yu isn't expecting him to use them. However, these earrings have a high value for a god.

The earrings were supposed to help stabilize and strengthen a god's qi. Or at least that's what Hua Cheng told him the earrings did.

So why was Yin Yu feeling worse than before? He tugged at the heavy gold earrings he was wearing, and tried to fight the urge to pass out.

Quan Yizhen immediately grabbed Yin Yu's hands to stop him. He said nothing, but looked with his huge golden eyes.

“Shixiong, let’s make a baby,” he said, eyes full of determination.

“You don’t even know what that means, Yizhen,” Yin Yu spat, trying not to choke from the initial shock.

Quan Yizhen frowned. “I do.”

The blood rushed so fast to Yin Yu's face that his pale skin looked as though it had been suddenly set aflame, like it might burst from the excess blood. Yin Yu couldn't help it when his lips pulled back into a snarl and he said “Well, I don't! I don't want to marry you!”

“But— but I do, I want to marry you, Shixiong, please!” Quan Yizhen pleaded with round puppy dog eyes.

“F-fine then,” Yin Yu stammers out, “but I'll only accept if you can complete three challenges.”

Yin Yu thought he could get away with it if he turned accepting the proposal into an impossibility, but seeing the determination in Quan Yizhen's eyes, he knew he fucked up.

“Ok!” Gods and Calamities, Yizhen seemed excited, of all things. “Three challenges from shixiong sounds like fun.”

Yin Yu exhaled shakily, still trembling from Quan Yizhen's earlier query. He narrowed his eyes, sweeping Yizhen up and down.

“Challenge one,” he said, voice hard, “Sample His Highness Xie Lian's cooking. In front of Hua Chengzhu.”

Quan Yizhen grew pale at once. White as a sheet, eyes wide with horror, he stammered:

“I-I'll do it.”

And so, Quan Yizhen sets off to track down the Night Touring Green Lantern. Yizhen had always found him disgusting to deal with, but he needed that favor, and only he could help him in his quest.

“NIGHT TOURING GREEN LANTERN,” Quan Yizhen yells out after kicking down the wall of a cavern.

Qi Rong screams and drops the leg he had been eating.

“Who are you?????” Qi Rong demands.

“I need a favor,” Quan Yizhen says, and tosses 15 gold bars at him.

“What the fuck?!”

Qi Rong flails his arms around in a futile effort to protect himself, looking rather like a disgruntled green windmill. Quan Yizhen throws another gold bar at him for good measure.

“Where's my shixiong!” Quan Yizhen demands.

“Who?????”

“My—” When Yin Yu arrives to hear this, the other disciples become quiet, as if suddenly held captive by his presence.

“He was disrespecting all his seniors,” says one. 

“NO—  he was an absolute fucking—” Other disciples hold that one down before he can be silenced.

He looked out the window, precisely when a bird was pulling on a branch with its small beak. He felt the weight of a thousand bricks on his shoulders. Could he become a good teacher?

This was what he wanted, of course; yet sometimes, it all seemed so daunting. Sometimes, it felt as though a single misstep would cause him to crumble beneath the weight. And oh, he feared that, he feared it more than anything.

Still, fear couldn't rule his life forever. Even if it was difficult, he wanted to exist for more. His initial intentions were long forgotten, but he had unburied the latent wish to overcome his own ties. If a certain unruly man were to stay by his side, Yin Yu strangely felt that everything would turn alright.

THE END

[shydroid3000]

Was listening to Leonard Cohen as I am wont to do, and I couldn't help but feel that "Love Calls You By Your Name" has very Lawlight vibes (lyrics/audio at bottom). Specifically, anime Light from the rain scene to L's death to his own death. The role of names, and truth, and liminality.

It makes me think, of course, of the raw vulnerability of a name in Death Note. The way Light only comes to know L's true name after his death, though the 'L' was true all along (not Ryuzaki, not Ryuga). The way L doesn't just call Light 'Light,' but Kira too. But also of the way L reaches out to Light in the rain scene, gives him that chance to be truthful for once (or rather, expresses his own futile longing for Light to be truthful, to let L touch beneath the mask if only for a moment). The way that it's only in the liminal spaces that Light allows perhaps a glimpse of something authentic, or the shadow of a glimpse. The moment before he responds to L in the rain -- the way it goes silent for a second as they look at each other, a space of possibility before the lie/mask is chosen. The moment Light reaches the towel out to L's hair during the foot massage; Light says, "You're still wet" -- they aren't in the rain anymore, but they aren't quite out of it yet either, as it drips from the strands of L's hair onto the skin of Light's foot. L's "you and I will be parting ways soon" -- the space between together and apart. As they sit on a staircase, between here and there. The moment of L's death, Light looking into his eyes so deeply, as Kira in that final second. The moment of Light's death, having that vision of L in the time when he slips from life into death. These in-between spaces that are both microscopic and vast... As Leonard Cohen might say, "Between the darkness and the stage," "Between the victim and his stain," "Between the ocean and your open vein," "Between the traitor and her pain." It's where L hears the bells tolling... it's where I think he and Light hear the call of what they are to each other, knowing it will go unanswered, despite how it rings in their heads.

----- You thought that it could never happen To all the people that you became Your body lost in legend, the beast so very tame But here, right here Between the birthmark and the stain Between the ocean and your open vein Between the snowman and the rain Once again, once again Love calls you by your name The women in your scrapbook Whom you still praise and blame You say they chained you to your fingernails And you climb the halls of fame Oh but here, right here Between the peanuts and the cage Between the darkness and the stage Between the hour and the age Once again, once again Love calls you by your name Shouldering your loneliness Like a gun that you will not learn to aim You stumble into this movie house Then you climb, you climb into the frame Yes, and here, right here Between the moonlight and the lane Between the tunnel and the train Between the victim and his stain Once again, once again Love calls you by your name I leave the lady meditating On the very love which I, I do not wish to claim I journey down the hundred steps But the street is still the very same And here, right here Between the dancer and his cane Between the sailboat and the drain Between the newsreel and your tiny pain Once again, once again Love calls you by your name Where are you, Judy, where are you, Anne? Where are the paths your heroes came? Wondering out loud as the bandage pulls away Was I, was I only limping, was I really lame? Oh here, come over here Between the windmill and the grain Between the sundial and the chain Between the traitor and her pain Once again, once again Love calls you by your name -----

[narniangirl1994]

I wonder if the windmills were supposed to be a metaphor for Jamie and Roy this episode. The phrase "tilting at windmills" is used to indicate someone is fighting imaginary enemies - doing something futile by fighting something that isn't really their enemy.

At the beginning of the episode, Roy was taking his anger out on Jamie because he was refusing to acknowledge the real problem (his feelings over Keeley). And the windmill they saw was fake.

It was only when Jamie encouraged them to go looking for a real windmill that Roy opened up about what his anger was really about (and Jamie even opened up about his own real, complicated feelings about Amsterdam). By getting to the root of their feelings on their way to find a real windmill instead of a fake one, they stopped "tilting at windmills" and faced their real problems..

[whump-me]

Whumptober Day 31: Setbacks

This is a standalone story in my original Mind Games universe, a modern-day sci-fi/fantasy thriller setting about ordinary humans with superhuman abilities and the people who want to use or destroy them. Full description in my Whumptober masterpost, which is linked in my pinned post.

This story contains: recovery, aftermath of torture, emotional whump, suicide mentions, interrogation mentions

Words: 2300

---

The bedroom where they had stuck him to rot—to recover, they kept correcting him—wasn’t even that big. Jonah knew rich people with closets bigger than this. He gripped the bedpost, tried to ignore the trembling in his legs, and took a deep breath.

One wall to the other. Only a few steps. He could do it. He had managed it yesterday.

He let go of the wall. Pain shot up his right leg. He gritted his teeth and breathed through it.

One step. He fought the urge to windmill his arms as he wobbled. Another step. Another.

Past the foot of the bed. Toward the beat-up dresser with the small stack of worn out paperbacks piled at one end. Probably everyone who had recovered in this room before him had read those same books, lying in bed and endlessly turning pages in a futile attempt to distract themselves from their weakness.

But he wouldn’t let himself be weak.

Another step. The bolt of pain was stronger this time. He closed his lips tightly on a cry of pain, refusing to let it escape.

Another step—and the pain stole his breath. It shot past his knee, up to his hip, and into his right side. He buckled like he had been stabbed. The sudden motion robbed him of his balance, and he toppled.

He clutched at the dresser, but wasn’t close enough to grab on. He landed hard on the floor with an undignified yelp. The rough carpet scraped at his palms.

Other half-healed injuries woke at the impact, stirring with a chorus of growls like a family of angry bears. When he tried to push himself up, their voices rose in warning. The pain locked up his muscles until he gave in and sank to the carpet again. He wouldn’t be getting up any time soon.

Damn it. He had done it yesterday. Why not today?

The door opened with a creak, because of course he couldn’t just marinate in his humiliation in peace. He looked up to see the round-faced, chipper volunteer he had grown to hate. Lauren, her name was. Lauren was relentlessly positive. Lauren insisted he was getting better every day, which clearly wasn’t the case. Lauren had clearly never endured any pain worse than a stubbed toe in her life.

“I don’t need help,” he said before she could offer him a hand. “Just give me a few minutes.”

“You may not need help, but that doesn’t mean you should have to go without it.” There was her bright smile, right on schedule. “It’s what I’m here for.” She held out her hand to him.

He weighed which would be the greater humiliation: taking her hand, or lying here at her feet while she extolled the benefits of thinking positive. He took her hand, gritting his teeth against the pain to come.

For someone so small, she was remarkably strong. She didn’t even wince as he braced himself against her arm with close to his full weight. She kept right on smiling.

“You worked yourself hard yesterday,” she said. “You should have stayed in bed today. You need the rest.”

“Like you know anything about it.” Embarrassment turned his voice sharp as she helped him to the bed one hobbling step at a time. “You’re not a doctor. You’re not even a nurse. No one here is. This isn’t a hospital.”

Her smile didn’t waver. “You’re right,” she said. “But I’ve helped plenty of people like you. People who are recovering from what PERI did to them. None of them have made a full recovery in days, or even weeks. You shouldn’t expect that of yourself, either.”

He sat heavily down on the side of the bed. He nearly wept in relief as the weight came off his injured leg. She saw it—he could tell she saw, because her face softened, like she was so goddamn proud of herself for helping him out of his own stupidity.

He scowled up at her. “Don’t put me in the category of the lifelong lab rats you rescue. I was only there for a couple of weeks. And only for interrogation. They never sent me down to the labs.”

She sat next to him, too close for his comfort. But then, anywhere in the same house would have been too close for his comfort. “Torture is its own kind of trauma,” she said gently. “Physical and mental. You shouldn’t minimize either one. Give yourself the time you need. Please.”

“And who says I need time? You? No one here knows what the fuck they’re doing.”

She still didn’t look the slightest bit angry. He wished she would. “We learned on the job,” she said. “Same as you. The only difference is, you fight PERI by rating their facilities and rescuing the Enhanced they capture, and we fight them by caring for the people you rescue.”

“Yeah, well, who says I know what I’m doing?” If he had, maybe that last mission wouldn’t have gone so wrong. Maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in their hands.

Maybe he wouldn’t have—

His brain skittered away from the last thought before he could complete it.

Her smile grew softer. She placed her hand palm-up on the mattress between them, like an offer. “Do you want to talk about it? About that mission—or anything else?”

He left her hand lying where it was. “I think I need a nap.” He didn’t. He was tired of being told to rest. But seeing as she was the one who kept telling him to take more naps, that would get her to leave if anything would.

From the look on her face, she didn’t buy it for an instant. But she still smiled at him as she nodded. “All right. I’ll be back in a couple of hours with your lunch. Or earlier, if you need me. All you have to do is call.” She nodded toward the intercom on the bedside table.

He had never once used the intercom. He never would.

When she was gone, he realized she hadn’t helped him lie back down. Probably trying to let him preserve a small piece of his dignity. He almost wished she had helped him without giving him a choice in the matter. He would never have accepted the help, but now, without it, it was up to him to grab his leg in both hands and heave it onto the bed. He gritted his teeth to hold in the screams.

And then he was back where he had started—lying in bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. He knew all those cracks by heart.

Was this what his life would be from now on? Bored and useless and in pain? Lauren kept telling him he would recover. Her and all the other volunteers. But what did they know? They weren’t doctors. They couldn’t risk taking him to a real doctor, someone who might actually know what they were doing, because PERI had eyes everywhere.

Yesterday, he had almost believed her when she had said he was getting better. Yesterday, he had crossed the room on his own, all the way to the far wall. Yesterday, the pain in his leg had almost been faint enough to ignore.

He had let her use that minor fluke to build up his hope. Now he felt like a sucker.

Lauren would probably tell him tomorrow would be better. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe there was no point to all this effort at all. Maybe he should just lie here in bed and let himself rot little by little, counting the cracks in the ceiling and pretending to read the dog-eared books.

Better yet, maybe he should just end this now.

Don’t you dare, came a familiar voice in his head.

This time, when his breath caught, it wasn’t from pain. A bright spark of a forgotten feeling lit in his chest. Something like happiness. Something like hope.

“You’re alive,” he breathed.

He couldn’t speak to Matthew inside his head like Matthew could speak to him. He wasn’t a telepath. But if he spoke aloud, it made his thoughts strong enough and clear enough that Matthew could hear them, even though Matthew was much better at sending thoughts than receiving.

Yes, I’m alive, Matthew answered. His mental voice held a slight chuckle, like it amused him that Jonah had ever doubted it.

“I thought I heard you when I first got out,” said Jonah. “But those first days were a blur. I barely remember any of it.” Mostly, all he remembered was the pain. “Afterward, when I could think a little more clearly, I thought I had imagined it.”

No, that was me, Matthew answered. I was there for you then. And I’m here for you now.

“Where? Where are you?” He had to be close, if he was in telepathic range. “When can I see you?”

When you’re better.

“I don’t know when that’s going to happen,” Jonah admitted. “Hell, I don’t know if that’s going to happen.”

It will, Matthew promised, as if he knew it for a fact. For some reason, that kind of confidence wasn’t as irritating coming from him as from Lauren.

“Can’t you come see me earlier?” Jonah asked. “They’ll let you in. I’m sure of it. You’re one of us.”

I can’t.

“Why not?” If he knew Matthew was coming, he wouldn’t even complain about lying in bed staring at the cracks until then. Hell, he’d even try to take that nap, just so he’d have enough energy to sit up and kiss him later.

I’ll explain later, said Matthew. Not yet. For now, just know you have something to look forward to. When you’re better, I’ll be there. So you need to rest, and you need to heal.

“And if I don’t get any better?”

None of that, Matthew said gently. Again, it didn’t sound obnoxious coming from him. Rest. Heal. Will you do it for me?

There was only one answer he could give. “Of course.”

I love you, Matthew said in a mental whisper.

“I love you too.” But the presence at the back of his mind had already vanished. Matthew was gone.

Jonah slammed a frustrated hand halfheartedly down on the mattress. “Why the big mystery? Just tell me where you are. Hell, just come see me. I’m not too weak to talk to you in person for a few minutes.”

Matthew couldn’t hear him anymore, and he knew it. But the lack of an answer still left him hollow inside.

He breathed out sharply through his teeth. “Fine,” he bit out. Fine. He would take that nap, even though he hates hated naps. He would lie in bed and count the cracks. He would keep trying to walk across the room, and try to listen to Lauren when she said a setback didn’t mean anything. Even though she didn’t know what she was talking about.

He would do it if it meant seeing Matthew again.

Especially after he had thought—

He squeezed his eyes shut until that last thought disappeared. He breathed slowly and rhythmically, trying to convince his own brain he was asleep, until the pretense became real.

“I love you too,” he repeated just before he drifted off.

Out in the hallway, Lauren eased the door shut the final crack. Her face was sober, but she didn’t cry. Early on in her time here, she might have. But in the past three years, she had watched enough tragedies play out that the tears no longer came easily, or at all. She had seen enough that she could keep up a constant stream of encouragement, and never let her smile waver. It used to feel impossible. Not anymore.

“Who was he talking to?” asked Cass, the new volunteer who had paused to listen.

“His husband,” Lauren said in a hushed voice, just in case Jonah was still awake and could hear. “The husband is how he got involved in fighting PERI. He was a telepath. PERI found him and took him to the labs. Jonah tracked down a team down somehow—he’s some kind of ex-military. He said he’d use all his skills to help them for the rest of his life if only they’d help him get Matthew out.”

“So this… Matthew… is here too, and they’re talking telepathically?” Cass asked. “Why not put them both in the same room? Wouldn’t it help their recovery?”

Lauren let out a long breath. “No. Because Matthew isn’t actually here. Jonah gave his team up under interrogation. Matthew hadn’t made it to us yet. PERI raided the safehouse where they were keeping him. None of them made it out. Jonah knows—PERI showed him the pictures. He told us when we first got him out. He was really out of it then.”

She looked toward the closed door. “I suspect that’s a big part of why his recovery keeps hitting setbacks. Some part of him knows that once he gets better, he’ll have to face the truth.”

Cass’s face creased in a frown. “This isn’t right. Someone should tell him.”

Lauren nodded. “And I will. But not yet. He’s a lot more fragile than he looks—and a lot more fragile than he thinks he is.” She stared at the door with a troubled frown of her own. “For now, I’ll let his brain gives him whatever he needs to recover.”

---

Tagged: @cakeinthevoid @gala1981

Ask to be added or removed from my Whumptober 2023 taglist.

[sfblah]

The futile urge to organize a snz secret santa thing again, not because I think it would be fun or even because I hope I get a nice gift out of it, but specifically so that I can disallow AI-generated shit.

Like honestly I would feel so bad for anyone who receives an AI-generated story or anything like that. I know I'm kinda tilting at windmills here since to my knowledge it hasn't happened yet, but I'm also confident that it's gonna fuckin happen at some point lol.

[zenaquaria]

~The Meta is Futile Presents: Curse of Strahd, Ep12  

After escaping Castle Ravenloft, minus one, we gained a companion with a big wolf, a native Barovian and friend of the Keepers of the Feather named Idalia Alastroi. Though met with shell-shocked hostility from Hestara, who will not abide Aranvir being referred to as a “devil”, she tagged along with us to the windmill where they make the dream pastries.  Unable to make the distance to Vallaki by nightfall, we camped out a half mile away from the windmill. Idalia opted to take first watch, and Hestara couldn’t sleep, so she sat up with the new member of the group. A rustle in the woods nearby caught Idalia’s attention and she went to check it out, and Hestara stayed put. Poor girl was completely numb, and stared into the fire. 

A raven flew out of the woods and landed by Hestara. And it croaked out, in Aranvir’s voice, snippets of his reassuring Aranvirisms it had heard since we came across the ravens in the winery. And it cracked through Hestara’s cold numb shock, as she broke down into a full-body-shaking sobbing ugly cry.

She could practically feel his hands on her shoulder and over her hair as she sobbed, lamenting his absence and his fate and promises made broken...

Do not repost, edit, alter, trace/copy, use/redistribute my artworks without my permission.  

[thebreakfastgenie]

One of my biggest issues with BJ as a character is the inconsistency in when he's willing to get involved. In Souvenirs, the pilot flat-out tells them someone else will just take up his business, and BJ and Hawkeye both take the position of "at least we hopefully stopped some kids from going into minefields." In Preventive Medicine, BJ derisively tells Hawkeye "you treated a symptom" and incorrectly suggests Hawkeye's efforts were futile because the war didn't end, even though Hawkeye achieved his goal of removing the colonel from command, and the casualties at the end were unrelated. Maybe BJ is willing to commit fraud to ground a pilot but not to commit medical malpractice. That's reasonable! But that's why the ending of Preventive Medicine is bad; BJ makes the wrong argument.

BJ is dismissive of Hawkeye's hopeless cause in Back Pay until the very end, but finds a hopeless cause of his own in Death Takes a Holiday, and arguably in BJ Papa San as well. The gesture in Death Takes a Holiday is a purely symbolic one, and losing their father on the day after Christmas is probably only marginally better than losing him on Christmas. But BJ's pursuit is noble and immediately supported, whereas when Hawkeye wants to make a symbolic gesture BJ says he's tilting at windmills.

Does BJ like symbolic anti-war gestures and efforts that hopefully save just a few lives, or does he think they're a waste of time and energy? It depends on the episode, and there aren't clearly defined circumstances to explain what makes each case different in his mind.

[dave-windett]

This illustration of Don Quixote was commissioned as part of an inspirational poster.

The client was a firm where projects for their customers appeared to be as futile as Don Quixote tilting at windmills.

[shallowseeker]

Yes, yes. We've talked about the futility of windmills and striving wind with regards to all hunters, workers, and soldiers.

But there are other things in this hotel that are SO CUTE.

Dean and Cas are very often twinned by their morals and values. You could say that they're very often tilting at the same "windmills." Struggling with many of the same things, albeit at different timelines.

There's also...flowers in the decor.

LOTS of flowers.

Prominent yellow flowers in the bedroom appear between them, symbolizing pesky, bubbling happiness between the two of them.

There's often this concept of "blooming" between Dean and Cas. Springtime. Hell, we can even point to Dean's dance number in s15, "Let's Misbehave," originally written for Irene Bordini.

(They say the Spring Means just one thing to little lovebirds // We're not above birds // Let's misbehave)

There's April Kelly, the reaper, and also the Leviathan blossom (that grows OUT of death). An association to Lily Sunder and her daughter May, born after spring, as Jack will be born in May.

Dean himself is like a valley of death, but ALSO a valley proper, with the capacity for growth and spring-green, and it is this that associates him to many of the Lily characters, like Lily Baker.

Anyhoo, this cute motel is mirroring the blossoming friendship. It's full of Netherlands motifs, including the windmills but also tulips and blooms. The low-lying land of the Netherlands is what makes tulips flourish there.

Later The Empty will "tiptoe through Cas's tulips" as it reads his mind (and his love).

As Dean is undergoing individuation, he too is blooming.

And wooden shoes.

There's an abundance of tulips flanking the bathroom, sprouting up alongside the Dean side, over near the couch. On what will become "the Cas side" of the domestic space... shoes.

Dean is trying not to feel things. Cas is trying not to feel things.

///

Anyway, when Cas asks for help, he gets in REEEEEALLY close again:

And Dean gets a little nervous again, shifts, slightly pouts his lips and then cracks a joke:

They've been so mean to each other. Hehe.

After all, Cas's immediate reaction to seeing Sam and Dean again was to lay into them about being failures and not worth the effort and rebellion he put into them, so Dean's cattiness is understandable here.

It's tense. Awkward.

They've been disagreeing with each other and telling each other how they've lost faith in one another and don't believe in each other's plans...which oddly is EXACTLY the sort of emotional honesty that will make their bond stronger.

They keep orbiting each other, walking around and around each other in circles, and moving into each other's spaces. Even without the dialogue, the body language is interesting.

Cas is trying to read him, to figure out the human rules of him not being allowed to move threateningly into Dean's space, but Dean being allowed to move into his ... plus Dean making off cultural references that involve HOLDING HANDS and sailing off cliffs.

Then brushing past him so closely, and what exactly ARE the rules for personal space? Also, we see the yellow flowers between them here.

Dean may be under the impression that Cas doesn't care about him that much. That he helped him on a moral whim and now he's stuck with him/them.

And they're very close to one another again. Dean is fishing for information. "I'm your strategical bait, huh? That's all?"

And Dean relents.

///

So anyway, the body language is legendary for a reason, but the flowers are such a nice backdrop. :DDD

Aside///

I love how Cas just marches in on the case and tries to be frank with everyone.

Poor Cas. Just a mere hundred or couple hundred years ago, this would've worked. He really COULD march in there and start talking angels and demons with some authority, might have even been able to tell them that he was an angel.

What we call the modern world is still so new. We as a species have believed in supernatural worlds for so much longer than we haven't.

And Dean just... can't help getting into Cas's personal space. I find that so cute about him. He establishes the norms of personal space and then he proceeds to fiddle with Cas's clothes. Meanwhile Cas is just like ????? wow human rules are so illogical.

*Dean fiddling*

Dean, honey. I promise you that if you'd handed Cas the badge, he would've grabbed it somewhat normally.

///

Dean *fiddling with his own badge and coat and steadfastly NOT looking at Cas's face*

*can't resist*

Aside/// I love so much that SPNwin poked fun at THIS in particular (as well as SPNwin's John making silly voices).

Sighting on main: Man with a nascent, burgeoning mega-crush tries to make rules about personal space and then winds up being even weirder about space than the person he was accusing of not adhering to normal human etiquette...

DEAN: *buttoning, buttoning, I know I'm taking a while to button this, pay it no mind. now imma fix your tie...*

[writer59january13]

Still wrestling with impasse to contentment

Dispense sing with fidelity blithely agog

just me and mine dark shadow

slinking along outer limits of

the edge of night doth blog

passivity, the path

of least resistance ohm my dog,

shocking voltage amply

surges an emphatic YES,

verboten fruit adrip

with succulent juices as eggnog,

a legitimately valid

reason and rhyme to flog

reprobate yours truly

figuratively doth emasculate, thee catchword to extricate

being emotionally hogtied warrants immediate attention, regarding consummating series

of prurient disadvantageous

née self destructive events.

The best idea to expound upon, while attempting creative

exuding genital intonations to jog

all mein kampf,

I felt like a bump on a log

please... don't be hesitant

not to reserve judgement towards this miscreant husband

whom identifies himself

as a dirt Poe imp of the pervert

analogous to rumpelstiltskin fable

whereby Lothario wannabe boasts stud deed fallaciousness,

whose noggin of mine

shaped as an egghead

topped off with pinhead blocked nog,

one aging long haired pencil neck geek

never reached maturity forever a pollywog

until froggy went a courtin' into marital quagmire

woody peckerhead did slog.

More clearly, plainly and succinctly,

one groveling, non-feeling, and sniveling

poor excuse for masculinity, (and upstanding laughingstock

regarding spindleshanks), I continually experience

unrepentant (unforgivable) humility, futility, and disrepectability hence lame justification Matthew Scott Harris sought adultery, cuckoldry, effrontery...,

which unwise choices attempted (pun intended) to fill a void

sexual propensity linkedin with precepts

attributed courtesy Sigmund Freud,

though skepticism skirted

shirked getting caught red handed

sneaky shenanigans employed

barenaked lady hardcore psychoanalysis

downplayed, or Oedipus complex

shrugged off Fountainhead (heavier imposition versus Atlas shrugged) fails to bridge (do not as Kwai)

any heavy mettle alloyed

within me psyche,

and windmills of my mind.

Handy dandy blues clues

existential mid life crisis

lacked absolute zero justification why yours truly fraught

with hormonal secretion

embarked on warpath for concupiscence

gallivanting, frolicking, engineering

foot loose and fancy free

sabotaged matrimonial covenant, whereby I regularly posted and answered

personal classified advertisement

with popular Craigslist website,

thus no surprise when presto digitation,

I met gal headquartered in Coatesville or Downingtown;

she drove to Evansburg State Park

rearing to tame bucking bronco (me)

quashing, invalidating, contravening...

conjugal contractual obligation

renting asunder mine vocalized vow

to remain faithful thru thick and/or thin

seeking alternative orgasmic opportunity

feeble minded excuse

regarding irreconcilable differences

a vague catchall phrase

antithetical contrary to pledged troth,

embarking on maiden voyage

nsync with barenaked lady

partaking moist and meaty tender vittles.

I feebly attempted to compensate

for dearth of absent teenage

Ninja mutant turtles

reptile brain and brawn bravado

investigated dating app experiences,

thus violated wedded vow think tryst I yearned, trended and jump/kick started

Casanova paramour wannabe years later subsequently

regretted quintessentially philandering

utterly disgusted at my illicit behavior

and negligence neglecting

attentiveness to offspring and spouse

forswore doting upon then

high school age daughters,

rightfully thee eldest one

(born 12/22/1996) still pissed

and compromised, jeopardized, and undermined paternal priority spawning

selfish prurient dalliances,

I das scribe, how now

brown cow objectionable frolicking courtesy Sly

And The Family Stone

payback a bitch, cuz I feel in funky (flunky) mood,

verses when scads of Earth orbitz ago, (round about January two thousand and ten)

he profusely kissed

mouth of other voluptuous (zoftig) older women (consensually, flatteringly, indiscriminately)

and amazingly, kindly, thankfully... enough

in due time spouse did willingly insist

to forgive, boot never forget

long since discounting

divorce from wife

nevertheless, remaining thermally uncoupled mandated unconditional armistice

eventually note hissed

matter of fact I dreamt at time these lines penned (then earlier today that May twenty ninth two thousand and twenty two), the gist

regarding soldier of self made misfortune

toying and tinkering harming self

casually eyed sharp pointed objects offered especial attraction

pondering hoop fully connive fist

(cuffed) around handles of cutlery

at primal, gonadal,

and brutal predilections

now... finding very little reason to exist,

hence understandably dissed

(until death do me part)

unbridled love and apology

toward thee missus and progeny,

who forever did blacklist

writ blood ginned curses

with will.i.am blackened barbs.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder,

thus very little paternal

(filial) love expressed

and she chose to live yonder Oakland, California

her then temporary dwelling

no matter, her papa

blatantly confessed depravity

YES, more'n his eye did wonder.

At present petty coated junction

non petty irreparable schism

doth rank as horrendous on par me adopting fascism

forever sullied image ("daddy's girl"), who once thought the world of me

selfish misdeeds done dirt cheap

buzzfeeding swelling egoism

no more how enlightened I became

ex post facto, pure unconditional acceptance

refracted light risqué behavior thru prism

where primary parental accountability not satisfactorily explained away courtesy

Darwinism (to con seed genes), nor chauvinism,

whereby ever since time immemorial repentance will forever be belabored

by me flagrantly disregarding monogamy

courtesy hardened libido

making mockery and travesty marital covenant.

[increduloussausage]

im gonna rant to myself here i just like the formatting makes me nngh

Xie lian as a fool, (talked about in varied depictions of the fool, from contrasting backgrounds, talks about don qixote, the idiot, ivan the fool, etc) Xie lian as the fisher king, (parsifal)

Elaborate?

Transgression from naivety into self consciousness,

A fisher king wound is a wound that hurts but doesn’t kill

King fisher plagued with a fatal wound, yet fatality was proven futile. He was infertile, and his kingdom had fallen (just as xianle was damned to demolition, along with xie lian and his erectile dysfunction)

““A man must consent to look to a foolish, innocent, adolescent part of himself for his cure. The inner fool is the only one who can touch his Fisher King wound.”

Don quixote, quixotic, unable to distinguish reality from imagination. (jun wu????)”tilting at windmills” fighting imaginary enemies

And sancho pantha, (mu qing????) 

“Sancho’s realism contrast with his master’s idealism” AAAAAAAAAAA its tgem. Itrs them!!!! (xie lian and mu qing) the donkey can be feng xin. Lol

Fuck. the actual novel is sad… don qixote falls asleep, awaken by a dream, awakened from his madness, realising he’s spiralled down into insanity. And that he has wasted his life (lol jun wu) dies from an overdose of reality. And what did jun wu die realising? Actually idk, bro was relieved to find someone who couldve actually defeated him. 

Dsbkhdrfvgsk.j  

Ivan the fool leo tolstoy,

Ivan’s goodness piques the devil’s interest. Overcomes the devil, himself. Relies on his heart, his brothers relies on their mind. (i wish i was foolish) 

The idiot, fyodor dostoevsky, the prince is a fool. The price is an idiot. Paralleled to xie lian in the heavens. Prince myshkin, contrasts the world he lives in. he says what is on his mind, regardless of social setting “save the common people!” 

“The price assures that beauty will save the world!”

Always this fool who is the hero.

Fool, knows nothing of the world. And has no place in it.

The fool’s journey and the hero’s journey, defeat his “dragon” (bai wuxiang) “treasure hard to attain” idk… about birth and rebirth. Return as ordinary, as xie lian does. Gasps “the fool is a wanderer, energetic, ubiquitous and immortal” XIE LIAN…..svbkgrdvb he is the most powerful of the tarot trumps. (trionfi, to trachotti, to tarot) (just info) journey to self realisation…

Carl jung… what does he say. Individuation!!! What is that. Omg… the fool is linked to the number zero. Why? Circular signifies infinity. Pleroma!! Ancient egyptian symbol of orouboros (tail devorurer) “one is all, all is one” fullness of being of past, present and future. God is an infinite sphere!! He is god.  Zero as in, no one believed in him anymore? He had no one!!! (hua chengzhu sit down you’ll be relevant soon….) (i hope….) 

Paradise. Bliss state of unconscious nature before falling into the reality of consciousness, the fool’s paradise, they call it. 

Learn about jungian psychology!!!! 

OMGGGGG XIE LIAN IS THE… what is it. THE tarot of marseilles, the butterfly one!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT HAS A FLOWER ON IT TOOVJHGJHBVNJHV>>><ML<ML<KM>>>.... Fool depicted as, insight over eye sight. (french tarot, fool) Okie. cool…. Cool….. Omh….. the rider wwaite tarot….. Is holding a flower. In his hand……….. One sword, one flower. Srvjhyrebslkf what does the cliff fall mean… hua cheng? Idk,,, fall from grace. While also BASKING IN his GLORY MOMENTS PRIOR? HNN WAIT…… pamela colman smith. Arthur edward waite, hermetic order of the golden dawn. Precursor of transformation….. Xie lian is the start of everything. Nothing would start without a fool. Bvnjhbfjjhnjhbn….. The idiot, dostoevsky, “geniuses seen as fool at the start of their career, at the end of them too” “beginner’s mind” (shoshin) “the soul demands your folly, not your wisdom” Car jung… xie lian. Xie lian… folly!!! Be foolish!!!! Omg. “it is the fear of uncertainty that scares many to the point of paralysis” good lord this video… (me and amina) rumination, < failure. Rumination, spends more time in imagination than reality. (quixotic….) failure is beyond your imagination. “In filth it will be found.” (xie lian) he keeps going. “I WONT CHANGE!!!!” 

Omg… dark side of the fool… the voice of conformity. Omg (use that now lol) omg.. We need to be conscious of the fool within, the start of the video said the wisest people are the fools who acknowledge they are foolish. The dark side is when we don’t. Child, half into the world. Madman, half escaped from it. The fool is an archetypal religious figure…. XIE LIAN IS THE HOLY FOOL. “is one who is willing to risk ridicule, scorn and rejection to pursue the path of truth and love.” not conformist out of fear, not needing to be defined by others. Be himself in all circumstances. “The most threatening to the authorities and powers” hehhehe. Saint Paul, “god has made foolish the wisdom of this world.” inferior function leads to the healing of fisher wound… (elaborate. Will do. At some point.) 

[spellucci]

Windmill State Park Nebraska

Thursday, October 19, 2023

We left Deb & Lee’s house in early dawn, fortified with multiple cups of coffee and headed east for Nebraska. East with the rising sun in our eyes low enough to avoid any position of the visor. Solar glare in Big Sky Country means no shade from trees. After an hour of squinting and futilely adjust the seat height, we take a break to cook a leisurely breakfast and play with Dora in a decrepit abandoned mall. Not scenic, but safe for Dora to chase a ball.

By 9:00 the sun was high enough for comfortable driving. We stopped for lunch at the Colorado-Nebraska border at the welcome center. It is a Pony Express historic site.

2-D Sculptures of buffalo decorate the hill and artistic representation of teepees shade the picnic tables. A little tacky, but a good place for lunch and emptying the trash and black tank.

Nebraska is quirky. There is an arch over the highway. It doesn’t to anything or mark anything, it’s just there to trap unwary tourists.

We stop for gas at a Sinclair station that still has the 1960’s dinosaur.

We got to Windmill State Recreation Area with time to walk, play with Dora, and make dinner before Tim has an east coast conference call. The park has antique prairie windmills of many different designs scattered around the campground, ponds, and picnic areas.

Dora is skilled at wrapping her lead around everything.

After dark, Jeanne and Dora go for a walk to find the bathrooms. On the way back, we can’t find the RV in the dark, nearly deserted campground. A quick text to Tim, and he turns on the outside lights of the RV. After a few minutes we spot it and are safely home.

T-shirt weather during the day and high 40s at night. Delightful weather.

[askrockandfriends]

Other stuff about Zeeemistan:

Citizens enjoy an absolute right to privacy. Things like wiretapping, NSA spying, et cetera will never be a thing here.

The country invests heavily on eco-friendly methods of power like wind and solar power. Windmills are a common sight on many hills in Zeeemistan, and it's fairly common to have at least a few solar panels in every house in the country. This extends to its public transport system, which runs entirely on electricity, and, in fact, gas-powered cars are an incredibly rare sight in the country and extremely difficult to refuel in it.

Begging/panhandling on the streets is not only annoying, it's also illegal. Penalties are removal from the area/confiscation of gathered items, and jail time if it continues.

Freedom of speech is present, but with some restrictions. One may criticize Mr. President Luigi on his policies, personality, or behavior, but speech that demeans or threatens another group or individual is not allowed. Physically or verbally harassing, tormenting, or just plain repeatedly being an ass to another individual is absolutely not allowed, and may get you thrown in the slammer or even executed if it continues.

Execution does exist, and may happen depending on the severity of the crime in question. It can happen for anything, be it murder, to even repeatedly harassing another individual. The reason is the country believes it is best to simply remove trouble from society outright rather than try any futile attempts to rehabilitate them. The country aims to have a strong sense of social harmony like Japan where everyone who comes here knows their responsibilities as residents of Zeeemistan as well as their rights and works closely with others in their community to ensure everyone follows them.

The country does not have an established language or religion and believes everyone should be able to practice what they speak or believe, so long as it doesn't interfere with the laws of Zeeemistan.

[doctormead]

Weeeeell, if you insist.... Content warning for physical abuse of a child.

Tammy watched the circle start to glow with increasing dread as her father, step-mother and 5 other members of the inner circle of the Adherents of Eternal Night continued to chant. She wanted to sob, but tried not to as it only made her bruised ribs hurt more. Her so-called parents had not been pleased with her objections to being an offering to the Ghost King in return for...hell if she knew, and couldn't care less if she did. However, when they made their displeasure known physically, they had to be VERY careful not to leave any visible marks. They had gotten rather good at that over the last few years.

The glow intensified and Tammy again tried to pull at or squirm out of the ropes binding her to the chair, but it was futile. Then there was a flash and there was someone inside the summoning circle...but it wasn't who they were expecting.

The texts her father had showed her described the Ghost King as a teenage boy with white hair and green eyes wearing a crown of ice. The figure inside the circle could possibly be a teenager, but she was definitely not a boy! A tall, willowy girl wearing a bronze breastplate over a green, knee-length tunic, a bronze helmet crested with matching green plumes and sandals grinned as she adjusted her grip on the long, leaf-bladed spear in her hands. The chanting faltered and the figure spoke.

"You scum didn't really think the High King of the Infinite Realms considered you worth his personal attention, did you?"

That was the only warning they had before the spear's blade slashed through the barrier the circle was holding and the glow vanished. The warrior girl leaped forward, swinging the butt of her spear up into the head of her step-mother who fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes. The warrior converted the momentum into a spinning back-kick that sent the robed woman next to her flying across the room. Tammy's head snapped to the side as she heard her father's upraised voice.

"Keep her busy!" he ordered while frantically pawed through the pages of his grimore. "I'll find a banishment!"

Warrior girl scowled and spun her spear around like a windmill, taking out two more cultists with well placed blows to the solar plexus of one and to the head of another. But the two main enforcers of the cult (who were built along the lines of giant apes) were coming up behind her with a pair of chairs they had grabbed to use as weapons. The armored girl caught sight of their shadows and glanced over her shoulder. "Really?" she said incredulously as they hesitated. "That's all you've got?" The two goons growled and both swung their chairs at her head. But her head suddenly wasn't there. She dropped to the floor, tucked and rolled to the side and slightly behind the goon on the right. The two chairs crashed against each other as she rose to her knees and used her spear to sweep the legs out from under Right Goon. As Left Goon turned to see what happened, she jumped to her feet. She thrust her spear at his head and he raised the remains of his chair to block it, but her foot shot out to hook behind his ankle as she shoved her weapon against his improvised shield which landed him on his back as well. Two precise kicks put them out of the fight.

"Yes!" Tammy's father shouted, and he started to recite a spell...only to stop with a gasp as a gleaming spear blade slashed down THROUGH the book, slicing it neatly in two and barely missing his fingers. He looked up to see the armored girl smirking at him and leveling her spear at his eyes. "Meep," he squeaked in fear and fainted.

That left only their High Priest. The altar where he was officiating was placed on the far wall of the warehouse, so he would have to go past the warrior girl to escape. And that young lady didn't seem to be in the mood to let him. As the girl advanced, he grabbed the ritual sword from the altar and Tammy saw the girl's eyes light up. But anticipation quickly turned to irritation as the priest showed he knew about as much about sword fighting as a fish knew about walking. She didn't even bother to block with her spear, simply leaning to dodge the wild, flailing blows before she grabbed his sword arm and brought the butt of her spear up between his legs to the (ahem) crux of the matter. He fell gasping to the ground where another blow knocked him out. Tammy gaped in shock for a moment before once more trying to get free of her bonds.

"After all that," the warrior girl said with disgust, "it's not even a good sword!" Tammy looked up to see the girl toss the weapon across the room. "Piece of wall-hanger trash..." Then the warrior girl looked toward Tammy who shrank away against her chair. The warrior girl walked over and carefully scuffed out some of the runes of the circle around the chair. Tammy froze as the girl knelt down beside her and pulled out a knife, but it was only used to cut the ropes binding her.

"Don't be afraid," she said with a reassuring smile as Tammy rubbed her chaffed wrists. "King Phantom has no need or love of sacrifices. Is there..."

CRASH!!!

Tammy all but jumped out of her skin as the windows above shattered and the figures of Wonder Woman, Batman and several other heroes she didn't recognize landed behind her rescuer. Said rescuer was on her feet between Tammy and the heroes in an instant.

"I am Scathach of Phantom's Bastion! And you will have to go through me to harm this child!!!"

What would Ares do?

Ghost King Danny but instead of mistaking him as a thousand years old ghost everyone knows he's a teenage boy. So everyone assumes he won't be able to keep it in his pants when beautiful women are offered as sacrifices.

Danny hates this and tries to help the best he can by either getting them home, finding new homes or giving them money to get home by themselves because they understandably don't trust him.

But there are some who latch onto him because he is the only one who showed them kindness and promised safety. And he can't just leave them all alone. So with the help of Pandora they create a safe haven for them. He visits them every now and again and Pandora decided to stay with them.