#i am ASTONISHED at how well preserved this is!!

[subwaytostardew]

how would the twins feel about the flower dance?

Ingo likes it! He's quite interested in the valley's customs. Emmet on the other hand...

Emmet hates it, but he finds fun elsewhere. It doesn't really matter if he likes anyone or not….. he's just nosey for the sake of it.

Joltik is having fun, too!

Their rejection dialogue was actually the first lines of dialogue we wrote for them... It took months to come back and finish writing dialogue for the festivals. We were originally thinking that they would be more reserved and reluctant to join, but they would have become more comfortable by then. The first Flower Dance they attend would take place after they've lived in the valley for almost a year, since the Railroad doesn't open until Summer 3. They both used to be tucked away in the corner... now they're spread out and Emmet is stalking people in plain sight like usual.

Rejection/marriage under the read-more.

- Rejection Lines - ▲ Ingo ▲

"I see… my apologies, but I will have to refuse. I simply do not know you well enough to embark on this cab with you at this event. Thank you, however, for considering myself as an option. Perhaps the other townsfolk may be more inclined?" ▽ Emmet ▽

"No. I am Emmet. And I am not going to dance with you. Talk to someone else."

- Alternate dialogue when married to Ingo -

▲ Ingo ▲

"You look as astonishing as ever, dear! If you would be so kind as to indulge me, I look forward to coupling with you upon the tracks of the Flower Dance."

"Embarrassing as it may be… ever since I had learned of this festival, I had fantasized endlessly about engaging in its customs with you."

"If you wish to head upon those tracks, it would be my pleasure to accept your request!"

▽ Emmet ▽

"Hey. You're here to dance with Ingo, right? He's been practicing. It was verrrry annoying when he first made me learn all the customs. It's funny now that I know how lovesick he is about you."

"I hope you're ready, too! I am on picture duty with Joltik. He wanted to preserve his memory with you forever. He's so cheesy like that. Smile!"

Joltik

"Emmet gave me a verrrry important task! I get to be on camera duty when you dance with Ingo!"

- Alternate dialogue when married to Emmet -

▽ Emmet ▽

"Darling! You’re going to participate in the Flower Dance, aren’t you? I will be your partner. Yup. Even though I don’t like the dance. It’s weird. My legs do not like bending that way. You know that. But I will still be your partner for it. Yup."

"You know my favorite part of the Flower Dance is watching the other townsfolk be nervous about rejection. I don't want us to be part of that."

"That doesn't mean I want you to try to get rejected by someone else. I can decline if you really, really want to do that part. We do everything together as a two-car train."

"I can't risk you coupling with someone else. Don't ask anyone to dance with you. I'm watching. Joltik is, too. They will be verrrry sad if you do. Don't try it. You don't need anyone else."

"If you don't want to dance here, we can dance at our terminal station. Later. Just the two of us. With more fun moves!"

"It would not be nice if you coupled with someone else… But I trust your judgment. I am here for you. We can dance, or we cannot. The choice is yours. I'm yours, too."

▲ Ingo ▲

"Though he may complain quite a bit, Emmet would indeed be pleased to oblige in your request to couple with him during the Flower Dance!"

"He has actually been quite nervous that you wouldn't enjoy his company as your Flower Dance partner… His train of thought is not headed in the right direction…"

"But I have confidence that you'll quell his unfounded worries once again!"

"Emmet will also not take kindly to your cab diverting tracks from him. He was never the fondest of sharing…"

"Please refrain from entertaining the idea of dancing with anyone else. If you do, I will not hear the end of it… There should be no need for me to console him afterwards."

Joltik

"Are you going to dance with Emmet? He put me on camera duty, just in case!"

"I want to use the camera! It's fun adding to Emmet's scrapbook! He feeds me batteries when we do!"

"It's okay if you don't dance! I'm taking pictures anyways! I'll get lots of batteries later!"

#mail car connecting line #subway to stardew #subway to stardew terminal station #submas #ingo #emmet #I'm sorry this took so long to answer! #EDIT I JUST RELIZED INGO'S PICTURES WERE OUT OF ORDER

[pennyblossom-meta]

Incoming analysis on The Temptation of Elminster by Ed Greenwood and how Elminster's relationship with Mystra is a direct parallel to Gale's. Should be able to get it out soon. EDIT:(currently a bit overloaded with work, but working on the analysis. Might need to split it since it's turning rather monstrous).

As a very short summary of the bigger piece of meta, I'll say this:

The way Mystra, in her infinite wisdom, is placed on a pedestal is quite... something. It's certainly unique to see how her Chosen (i.e., Azuth, Elminster) are happy to be "tempered tools for her to use". Here's a quote from Azuth, to Elminster:

"We are her treasures, lad...we are what she holds most dear, the rocks she can cling to in the storms of wild Art. She needs us to be strong, far stronger than most mortals ... tempered tools for her use. Being bound to us by love and linked to us to preserve her very humanity, she finds it hard to be harsh to us...to do the tempering that must be done. She began the tempering of you long ago, you are her 'pet project,' if you will, just as the Magisters are mine. She creates her Chosen and her Magisters, but she gives the training of them to others, chiefly me, once she grows to love them too much or needs them to be distant from her. The Magisters must needs be distant, that creativity in Art be untrammeled. You, she has grown to love too much."

That being said, Ed Greenwood is a so-so writer with an enviable imagination. But after reading this book, I now understand Mystra's allure to wizards better and the power dynamics between Gods and mortals in Faerûn. It's not pretty and there's a lot of whimsical fancy going about that she indulges because Mystra herself sometimes falls prey to her mortal side and the Chosen are a link to that remnant of humanity.

However, Mystra has the following twist: she is a woman who is primarily a goddess, being described as an unfathomable first love with superpowers, a mother figure, a teacher, a lover while being petty — and suffers from the idealistic narrative perspective of the Male Gaze.

At the same time, it's important to understand that Mystra's plans are for the long run, and possibly in league with Ao's commands to maintain the balance of her portfolio; otherwise all magic might collapse.

In the main post, I've an in-depth analysis of Azuth's message to Elminster. I'll highlight some of the more important passages:

"You are the dearest of her Chosen, yes," Azuth said with a smile. "She speaks often of you and of the joy you've brought her in the times she's spent playing at being mortal."

"All who work magic serve Mystra whether they will or no," he said. "She is of the Weave, and every use of it strengthens her, reveres her, and exalts her. You and I both know a little of what is left of her mortal side. We've seen traces of the feelings and memories and thoughts she clings to in desperation from time to time, when the wild exultation of power coursing through the Weave...that is the Weave...threatens to overwhelm her sentience entirely. No entity, mortal or divine, can last in her position forever. There will be other Mystras, in time to come."

"Mystra loves you as no other," the god told the mage, "but she loves many, including myself and others neither of us know about, some in ways that would astonish or even disgust you. Be content with knowing that among all who share her love, you are the bright spirit and youth she cherishes, and I am the old wise teacher, None of us is better than the other, and she needs us all. Let jealousy of other Chosen...of other mages of any race, station, or outlook...never taint your soul."

And this describes very well how Mystra's relationship with Gale went. My perception is that most Chosen (if not all of them) are in love with Mystra and that this love comes from the nurturing feelings that the Weave produces.

By the end of the book, after trials and tribulations aplenty, Elminster says this:

"Oh, Mystra, ye've been my lover, my mother, my soul guide, my savior, and my teacher," Elminster said aloud. "Please, hear me now."

Are wizards generally in lack of nurturing, motherly figures or is it just the Chosen? Mystra seems to turn her relationship with the Chosen into a dysfunctional, co-dependent mother-son-lover-teacher situation. When she needs the men who are her Chosen to "grow up", she distances from them and gives them tasks, while keeping them fondly within her reach — as they look after her fondly from afar, remembering the romance of youth.

#bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 meta #bg3 spoilers #mystra #elminster #ed greenwood

[totkdaily]

Day 6: Lookout Landing and Hyrule Castle Gatehouse

I wake stiff and cold. It's been a while since I camped out. 

It’s so strange that nobody here seemed particularly astonished by all the floating islands, which suggests they've been there for some time. Even 100 years after the Calamity, people at the stables still talked about it. Maybe I was right, and the monumental changes in the landscape really are old news? Where does that leave me? 

I need more information. It's time to go to the tower. I whistle for Peaches, and we're off. 

On the way there, a very unwelcome development - some of the trees are uprooting themselves and chasing me. This is... frightening, but thankfully they are slower than a sprinting horse. 

The guards Drozer and Burwar recognise me at the gates to the tower - or, at least the gates to Lookout Landing, which appears to be the name of the settlement. It sounds as though I was last here in their lifetime... and Burwar says that Purah is here! Though she does have the secret to eternal life, so that doesn’t really give me any clues. 

I find Robbie here too! But then, I could absolutely see him trying out Purah’s method of life preservation. Surely I must know someone who doesn’t have a preternaturally long lifespan? 

The Castle looms darkly over this otherwise cheerful encampment. The Gloom is so thick it reminds me of Malice, but it seems more ephemeral. It pushes at the Castle from below, rather than simply coating everything in that ichor of Calamity Ganon. 

I find Purah, older than she was and in control. Her presence is somehow grounding. She listens to my experience of the last few days. She recognises the name Rauru - as the first king of Hyrule. I never did get on with kings of Hyrule, especially as ghosts. But how long ago did he live? Surely Zelda knew him as a ghost, then. She can’t have… no.

The Upheaval is what they're calling the Castle rising and the ruins falling. Those researchers yesterday said that the chasms turned up around the same time. So much change. Is it because Zelda and I went beneath the castle? Or would the same thing have happened without us there? That hand - Rauru's hand - only fell off the mummy creature when we arrived. And now I bear it… 

Purah thinks Zelda might be trapped beneath the castle, but I'm not so sure. What I saw on the sky island... I think it's more complicated than that. Still, I follow Purah's orders to meet with Captain Hoz’s search party. Surely they will know something.

Having to tell everyone, one by one, that I lost the Princess, that though I am back she is still missing, crushes me. I’ve failed. 

I meet a guy called Addison who works for... President Hudson! Well, sounds like he's thriving. I hope his wife is well.

The people who guard Lookout Landing and the road up to the Castle are a mixture of mercenaries and guards. I’m sure I once rescued Oliff from bokoblins in Gerudo Canyon… which implies I haven’t been gone for too long, as he still seems young and hale. Purpen at the gatehouse has amazing dress sense, and useful information - it seems all the weapons in Hyrule have decayed in the Upheaval. That creature’s Gloom had a similar impact on the Master Sword - if that blade couldn’t resist it, nothing could. Except… my gear from the sky islands seems untouched. Perhaps it only affects metal, or certain kinds of metal? 

This motley crew is a shallow facsimile of the Castle Guard I used to know - though I know that time has now passed beyond the living memory of most. Only a few of us are left who remember it. I’m sure these people are doing their best. 

I head up the hill as instructed and find Captain Hoz. I’m not sure he knows much more than me - they haven’t even made it past the Gatehouse. 

But then we see the Princess!! She faces us from the next tower in that strange Zonai garb, her face impassive - and then before I can move she turns into light and vanishes. 

Hoz orders me to report to Purah and I ignore him, racing to where the Princess stood. But there’s no sign of her. Nothing there but a Korok. What’s happening? Why can’t she send me some kind of message? If she’s away from me against her will, how can she have appeared here - and why would she leave? 

I stay on the tower’s edge until dawn. 

#totkdaily #day 6 #in which link sees Zelda and gets megasad #I recognise that's not super specific #but also Purah content! #loz #zelda #legend of zelda #totk

[republicsecurity]

Transformation

Tactical Medics Diary

I stared at the photograph, a vivid relic of a life that felt simultaneously distant and not too long ago. Just one year, shortly before my Conscript Duty started. In it, I was a far cry from the disciplined tactical paramedic I had become. Instead, I wore a garish Hawaiian shirt, a vibrant explosion of colors and patterns that reflected the carefree spirit I used to embody. My mop of unruly blond hair cascaded in all directions.

Now, that once-boisterous hair had been shaved away, leaving behind the bare expanse of my scalp. The Hawaiian shirt had been replaced by a red body armour, a symbol of my dedication to service. I'd gone from sipping coconut-flavored drinks on a sandy beach to carrying out missions in high-pressure, life-or-death situations.

Who needs privacy when you have a neural-psychological training program that knows your deepest fears better than your therapist?

They told me I'd get into the best shape of my life. Little did I know that shape would be a perfectly shaved head in a red flightsuit.

The changes were profound, yet they felt almost inevitable. As a tactical paramedic, I had embraced a life of precision, discipline, and responsibility. The laughter and leisure of my past had been replaced by the efficiency and focus demanded by my new role.

Who needs privacy when you have a neural-psychological training program that knows your deepest fears better than your therapist?

But even as I looked at that old photograph, a small part of me still longed for the carefree days when I could let my hair down, both figuratively and literally. It was a different life, a different me, but it had shaped the person I had become. And though the blond hair and Hawaiian shirt were gone, the memories remained, tucked away in a corner of my mind like a well-preserved relic of a distant past.

Cadets Diary:

For some reason, we looked at old pre-induction fotos today. As I stared at the old picture of myself, a surge of nostalgia and mild amusement washed over me. There I was, a younger version of the person I had become, or more accurately, the person I'd been molded into. In that photograph, I sported a mohawk that could only be rivaled by a particularly rebellious porcupine and a leather jacket that screamed defiance.

Now, the mohawk was replaced by the perfectly shaved head we all proudly sported in our red bellhop uniforms. The leather jacket? Well, it had given way to this dashing red ensemble, the symbol of our servitude to the greater good.

I used to raise hell. Now, I raise eyebrows with my perfectly shaved head and impeccable uniform. Who knew conformity could be this stylish?

In those days, I was all about chaos and non-conformity. Now, I embodied structure and precision, from the way I stand ramrod straight to how I address everyone as "Ma'am" or "Sir."

The rebellion of my youth had been expertly conditioned out of me, replaced by an unwavering commitment to the paramedic cause.

Looking at that old photograph, I couldn't help but smile. I might have lost my punk exterior, but I gained a sense of purpose, camaraderie, and a darn good uniform. Sometimes, change wasn't so bad, even if it came with a few sacrifices.

Conscripts Diary

Looking at that old picture of myself, it's almost like peering into an entirely different life. I had this wild afro, a hairstyle that was as free-spirited as I was back then. My clothes were eclectic, my days were filled with adventures, and my evenings were for partying. Life was a bit of a chaotic rollercoaster, and I relished every twist and turn.

But now, here I am, a conscript paramedic with a perfectly shaved head, a sculpted physique, and this sharp, red uniform that screams discipline. The change has been nothing short of astonishing.

Now, I'm clean-shaven, sporting a shaved head like all the other paramedics. My body is toned and fit, a result of the relentless physical training we endure. It's like they took the old me and turned me into something more disciplined, more focused.

Being in the Paramedic Corps is like living in a sci-fi movie, but without the cool special effects and with way more push-ups.

I can't say I miss the afro, but there are times when I wonder what it would be like to let loose again, to not be constantly monitored, conditioned, and confined within the ironclad schedule. But this is the life I chose, or maybe it chose me. Either way, I'm here now, and there's no going back. You haven't experienced real camaraderie until you've tried to keep your sense of humor while wearing a chastity cage."

You know you're a paramedic when the highlight of your day is getting one hour of free time outside the HUD. Freedom, one hour at a time!

So, I'll keep the shaved head, the red flightsuit, and the discipline. After all, it's what makes me a paramedic. And I have to admit, I do look pretty damn good this way.

[chirp-a-chirp]

Court of Darkness: Dirty Pictures

Rating: Teen (Nothing Explicit, but Implications Galore)

Words: ~1000

Synopsis: A series of short blurbs about how various CoD characters would react if they found dirty pictures or books at the academy. 

…

RIO, THOMA, SHERRY, and VIOLET

Rio and Thoma are sparring at the training grounds, with Sherry watching nearby. During a break, Rio trots to a room to exchange swords when he spots a book. He grabs it and brings it to Thoma. 

“Hey Thoma, let’s take a break from sparring and try something else!” He gestures to the book. Thoma opens the first few pages and yelps, eyes opening in astonishment.

“Mate, are you NUTS?” Sherry runs to the duo upon hearing Thoma’s shouting. 

“Whatever is the matter Thoma?” Sherry inquires. Thoma tries quickly to hide the book, but Sherry grabs it from his hand. 

“Oh my! Rio, what is the meaning of this?”

“I was asking Thoma if he wanted to practice some wrestling moves.” Rio looks at the shocked expression on Thoma’s face. “But, I guess you don’t want to?”

“Rio, this isn’t a wrestling book,” says Thoma. 

“You sure?” inquires Rio. “The pictures in it look like—” 

“YES,” exclaim Thoma and Sherry in unison.  

After a VERY awkward conversation that Rio does not completely understand, Sherry takes the book, promising to return it to the library (the only place she can think to return it with minimum questions). But, before she does, she and Violet spend the night looking at the book in Sherry’s room. 

“Oh, that position looks like fun!” Sherry exclaims, giggling. 

“Dear, that position is more fun to do that look at!” Violet laughs.  

…

ROY and LOU

Roy is in a lecture hall tidying up after class. He spots a book that appears to have been misplaced by another student. He opens it up and sees a series of salacious pictures in it. 

“Oh goodness.” He begins flipping a few pages. 

*Five minutes later* “Why am I still looking at this book?” he murmurs to himself, embarrassed but unable to tear himself away. 

“Why are you still looking at what, Master Invidia?” Lou walks into the classroom, a small smile on his face. 

“Um, I-I was looking at this book to determine where it should be returned within the library.” Roy quickly closes the book. 

“Diligent as always.” Lou’s smile widens slightly. Roy hastily bows and leaves the room. 

“Master Invidia, the library is in the other direction!” Roy walks faster, pretending to not hear him. 

“Oh, hi Miss Sherry,” Lou calls out. “Would you be so kind as to tell your brother where the library is? He seems to have lost his way and appears to be going to his quarters!” 

…

GUY and JASPER

Guy and Jasper have been ordered by Master Lou to search the academy for a series of drawings that have been popping up on campus. The drawings are pictures of the seven princes. Some of the pictures—those featuring Rio and Lynt—are innocent enough (images of Rio with dog ears, Lynt in various sleeping positions). The pictures of the other princes are decidedly NOT innocent. 

Guy and Jasper are in an empty classroom. Guy walks to the desk and finds a picture of himself sporting a smirk and nothing else with the caption Yield to me and no other. The picture bursts into flames. 

“Another photo, your Grace?” Jasper inquires. 

“TSK. What do you have there?” 

“Another drawing of Prince Roy.” He hands it to Guy. The caption reads Royally Pleased as Roy smiles and is—*picture is instantly turned to ash*

“Your Highness, we need to preserve at least one picture for evidence.” Jasper smiles at a scowling Guy. “You and Prince Roy appear to be the most popular subjects for these pictures. The artist has good taste in that regard at least.” He chuckles quietly.

“Jasper.” Guy stares daggers at his valet. He’s trying unsuccessfully to get Roy’s look of satisfaction out of his head. “Cancel my meeting with Roy today.” Guy looks visibly uncomfortable. 

“Very well sir. You might as well find the humor in this situation in the meantime.”

“NO.” 

Guy and Jasper continue to investigate the room. Inside a student’s desk, Guy finds two drawings of Toa shirtless holding a ruler with the caption Discipline Me under it. 

Guy looks at a clock. In a few minutes, students will be coming in for a lecture taught by Toa. Guy takes one of the pictures and gives it to Jasper. The other picture he places in the direct center of Toa’s desk. 

“You told me to find humor in the situation Jasper. Heh.” He leaves the classroom, smirking, knowing Toa will find the picture in a few moments. 

…

TOA, KNIGHT, and FENN

After Toa discovers the picture of him on the desk, he insists on purging the entire campus of all the dirty pictures. He and Knight search every classroom, finding drawing after drawing. 

“This is DISGUSTING!” Knight exclaims, averting his eyes. “How many people are even in this picture?”

“At least three people, Knight.” Fenn purrs in Knight’s ear. Knight jumps away. 

“H-How do you know that?”

“There are five limbs visible. Hehe!” Fenn scans the drawing. “Oooh, it looks like I’m in this picture!”

“You would be pleased to see that,” sighs Toa. He grabs the drawing. “This position is not anatomically possible.”

“Not with that attitude Toa,” laughs Fenn. 

…

TINO, LYNT, and KNIGHT

Tino is trying to get Lynt to eat some bread in his chambers. Lynt is curled up on a sofa under a blanket. 

“Prince Lynt! Some students in your class found pictures of you that you might find pleasing!” Tino hands a packet of papers wrapped in string to Lynt.

Lynt sleepily examines the first few pictures, which are various poses of Lynt sleeping in blankets, on benches, in open fields with his familiar Phee. His eyes then suddenly widen. 

“Chino, what are these?” Two pictures of Toa and Guy fall to the ground. Tino picks up the pictures. 

“Oh goodness! Oh stars! Oh every star above!” Tino screams, running out of the room.  

*A few moments later* “TOA!” Knight yells in the hallway as he finishes talking to a frantic Tino. “We didn’t find all the pictures!” 

#court of darkness #love 365 #all things otome #rio voleri #sherry invidia #roy invidia #guy avari #toa qelsum #fenn luxure #lynt akedia

[whentranslatorscry]

The Forgetful Detective Series Continued

This translation awkwardly picks up mid-volume. The preceding chapters can be found here: archive.org

Volume 3: The Challenge of Okitegami Kyouko

Chapter 2: Miss Kyouko's Locked Room Lecture (1/7)

1

“Oh believe me, I’d love nothing more than to aid your investigation, being the upstanding citizen I am. But truth is, I’m as stumped as you are. It’s completely baffling how this could have happened. I’m really sorry I can’t be of more help.”

Apology was etched into every line of the suspect’s face, the words spilling out with practiced ease— a classic line for a murderer, it was, surprisingly, shrewd and troublesome to counter. Eschewing any feeble excuses or attempts at explanation, but simply persisting in claiming ignorance— in choosing not to deceive with lies, but asserting they had nothing to say about the case, detecting contradictions through reasoning and interrogation would be nigh impossible. No amount of head-scratching or hectoring was likely to elicit a confession that said, “Sorry, it was me.” Presumably well-aware of this, the suspect added,

“Because I honestly don’t remember a thing about it.”

With such nonchalance, perfectly composed.

We could not say there was no remorse or regret whatsoever for the life taken— it could have been all a matter of self-preservation, doing what it took to survive. One might even find sympathy in such circumstances— but not she who stood face to face with the suspect.

Okitegami Kyouko— the while-haired detective listened unmoved to the suspect's stubborn silence and offered not an ounce of sympathy.

“I’m afraid that is my line.”

She maintained a sweet smile.

“The one who remembers nothing—is I.”

2

——Murders in locked rooms and the like don’t happen in reality, anything more than the pages of detective novels.

Pure fiction is this notion itself, was what Officer Tooasa thought. Though never having told anyone, the boy who'd decided to take up the badge, inspired by the detective stories he loved to read, couldn't count how many times he'd read that line.

Although, in terms of fiction versus nonfiction, “locked room murders” are more common in real life than you might think. Not, of course, in the strict sense of detective fiction, with absurdly intricate tricks that leave the reader astonished at their unveiling— there were only practical motives urging killers to 'hide the body,' to 'keep it from being seen.'

To keep the crime hidden, yes, but perhaps even more intensely, to avoid confronting the stark reality of having killed, something so immovably tangible they wish to banish from their sight.

It's not about keeping it in, but keeping it out.

So they shove the body in an empty room.

And bolt the door.

Creating a secret room impervious to the outside world—Officer Tooasa had found himself in this kind of scene all too often over the years, and it always left the mystery lover in him disillusioned.

What distinguishes the fictional crime from the real may be the criminal's mind— but let's not repeat the cliché, so common in mysteries, that "if they were intelligent enough to devise an elaborate ruse, they would surely be wise enough not to risk murder."

The criminal in a detective story, as Officer Tooasa saw it, should stand as a rival and equal in rank to the detective, someone who, when unmasked, does not falter but calmly, even proudly, explains the chain of logic that led up to the crime. Like famed detectives, criminals ought to be masters of rhetoric.

But in actuality, real criminals are rarely so.

By and large, they are driven to the brink of desperation and forced to commit monstrous crimes, staking their lives just trying to cover them up. In a lawful nation, when you think about it, a criminal’s enemy isn't some detective, it's the state itself— it'd be a miracle for anyone to keep a sound mind.

Whoever was behind this case must have been so afraid of capture that in his frenzy he came up with such a bizarre locked-room mystery. Not only was the motive unclear, the whole thing was incomprehensible.

Of this Tooasa was sure.

(To call it a locked room is a stretch, it's an awfully small space— and unusual to boot.)

Unusual, or rather, very alien.

Far more out of his comfort zone than locked rooms or murder cases.

The crime scene: a changing room in a trendy boutique— fitting room, that is. It was a brand outlet for young women, and a place that a man like Officer Tooasa in his forties couldn't be caught dead in— just earlier he’d earned a round of snickers from his subordinates by inappropriately referring to it as a “clothes shop."

The victim was Yanei Sashiko.

Said to have been a regular patron of the clothing store, "Nashorn"— a twenty-two-year-old working single woman.

No matter how seasoned Officer Tooasa became in the field, each murder case always left a sour taste, but the death of a young woman like this was especially heartbreaking. Her bright dyed hair and oversized sunglasses were far too glamorous as decorations on a corpse.

The cause of death: blunt force trauma. A single strike to the head.

Lying at the scene in the fitting room was the presumed murder weapon: a clothes hanger. Such mundane object transformed into a killing tool, it was almost comical, but certainly nobody was laughing.

Besides, it wasn't the typical flimsy wire or plastic hanger Tooasa was used to from his regular clothes shopping. These were solid wood and a proper blow could do serious damage. Struck just right, it could indeed kill.

The hanger was normally in use in this store, still with the brand logo carved into it. One such probably cost more than Officer Tooasa's overcoat, not that it mattered.

Important was the hangers being store-exclusive. The police theory went that the murderer seized one in a heated moment and swung it at the victim, Yanei Sashiko's head, suggesting it was hardly premeditated— who plans murder with a clothes hanger? The victim died, and the most rattled would have been the killer himself— which is why,

A locked room had been created.

Shoving body and weapon in a dressing room, shutting the door with a click—

(...Can't really click shut though.)

—No way would it slam shut either.

It was, after all, just a dressing room. This ‘door’ was more like a piece of wispy curtain, and the ‘lock’ just a hook casually engaged.

It couldn't make a sound.

Breachable with ease from inside or outside, it was hardly a locked room at all, really. Not even a room that required unlocking; you could just crawl in from under the curtain. The fitting room offered at best a modicum of privacy for customers trying on clothes. It may have a ceiling above, but an avid reader of mystery novels would deem such a set up hardly deserving of the title ‘locked room’.

(But—)

But beyond the structure of a locked room, there was another aspect to consider. An enigma, in fact, far stranger and more perplexing than locked rooms.

 “Excuse m—"

“Eek!”

A voice from behind startled him so great he jumped, and really did jump, a good five centimeters into the air. Tooasa was no scaredy-cat. In fact, having trained in police kendo and judo, he was as sturdy as they come. The shock, therefore, was from being snuck up on without him noticing.

Standing at the scene of the crime, deep in thought, but still to not notice someone approaching so close… He spun around, wondering how long they’d been there, but no one was.

For an absurd moment he entertained the unbefitting thought that it was the victim’s ghost he heard. But this was simply a difference in height.

Glancing down a bit, there stood a bespectacled woman with all-white hair, smiling broadly back at him. Dressed in a duffle coat with a thick scarf and knee-high boots. Even to Officer Tooasa's unfashioned eye, it was immediately apparent that she was impeccably styled.

“Uh, umm… Sorry miss, right now this clothes store… this boutique… It’s off limits…"

Her striking white hair, apparently natural, made it difficult to tell, but she appeared in her twenties, about the same age bracket as the victim. The boutique’s main clientele, no doubt. A stylish young woman here to shop, it looked like, somehow slipping past the crime tape and guards? Puzzled, Tooasa determined she had to be sent away.

"Certainly, this is a mesmerizing array of clothing lined up here, but no, I assure you I am not a customer.”

“Huh? Eh?”

His assumption proven wrong, a baffled Tooasa found himself handed a business card by the white-haired woman. She bowed deeply.

“Officer Tooasa in charge of this crime scene, correct?  Pleased to meet you, I'm Okitegami Kyouko, chief of Okitegami Detective Agency here to assist in the investigation.”

3

The rumors of Okitegami Kyouko preceded her. She was, to put it bluntly, a celebrity.

The forgetful detective, as she is known.

The fastest of detectives who ‘solves any case in a day,’ was so because of her unique ability to forget everything, including the case, the culprit and the process of deduction, the next day. Being the fastest was but a matter of course.

Somewhat reminiscent of certain types of fish that must keep swimming or die; of course, it was a high level of detective capability that underpin her fame and monikers as both “fastest detective” and “forgetful detective.”

A detective like those in mystery novels.

This sounds somewhat unnatural but, in summary, if you were to ask the reason for her appearance at "Nashorn," the boutique, it would appear to be the police chief's meddling.

Her Okitegami Detective Agency (apparently consisting of Okitegami Kyouko alone) was often called to crime scenes under the pretext of "providing support". Though the practice of police requesting help from a private detective, even if not legally prohibited, would normally raise eyebrows, when the forgetful detective was concerned the rules of the game seemingly change totally.

The fact she would forget all details of the case and any such request made her the epitome of discretion. There could be no loose ends.

That may have been the rationale, initially. Now, the department called her in regardless, evident in the many cases she had helped crack, such as the sensational “Plastic Bottle Murder” or the eternally unsolved “Grand Reunion Killings.” As far as Officer Tooasa knew, no few colleagues had advanced their careers in part thanks to taking credit for her cracked cases.

Precisely why she was now able to casually duck under the police tape and enter the locked-down store— with her face pass. However, up until this moment, Officer Tooasa had never even seen this forgetful detective.

It was the first time he had met her.

Not that he had avoided her on purpose but, rather, whatever difficult case emerged, he had not once appealed to his superiors for help. Even if the opportunity presented itself, the thought of going and meeting the forgetful detective had never crossed his mind.

When it’s the detective who forgets everything the next day you’re dealing with, no matter how many times you work together, the next time you meet at a crime scene it's back to square one— ‘nice to meet you’. Officer Tooasa had heard more than one such complaint at work (She basically had a face pass permitting her to crime scenes, but she never remembered the faces of the officers on duty.) In Tooasa's case, however, it was really the first time “nice meeting” her.

The reason he would not rely on the forgetful detective being, his professional pride as inspector and public servant would never allow himself to commission a private detective— but unfortunately that wasn't it. If only he possessed such gallant, unyielding spirit, how much easier life would be. The simple truth was, he was jealous.

Officer Tooasa did in fact read mystery novels that had inspired him to enlist but, with no doubt in mind, his true ambition had always been to become a great detective and solve mysteries left and right.

While “detective” was a legitimate occupation however, “famed detective” wasn't. Detectives were supposed to gather information, they didn't crack cases for sport.

Becoming a cop seemed the next best thing, and plenty of masterpieces in mystery fiction featured police officers as the heroes besides. In detective novels, police are often confined to the role of mere sidekicks for the famed detectives in readers' minds, regrettably, a situation that brought Officer Tooasa immense frustration. Investigating crime, confronting criminals, keeping the peace— that was real police work. It was while wrestling with these somewhat egocentric complexes that he was made aware of the forgetful detective.

She, genuinely, was called a famed detective out of respect, not irony. She, as if sprung from fiction, sought after by the police to cooperate in their cases. Her existence was, to him, unbearably enviable. For this very reason he had avoided her— until today.

These delusions of victimhood had begun to border on the obsessive, he had to admit. But having put all this hard work into reaching this point as a police officer, he couldn’t stand the thought of being reduced to foil with the detective's grand entrance.

But he hadn't expected this detective to look so… ordinary. Different from the imposing figures in mystery novels, she was gentle and refined. Just as real-life “locked rooms” didn’t necessarily match their fictional counterparts, so too did not all “famed detectives” walk around with pipes in their mouths, it seems.

“Appreciate the offer, but this case is under control. So, little miss, you may go…”

Caught off guard and a beat too slow, he nonetheless managed to be the first to speak, requesting her departure. Relieved that the investigation on site was nearing its close, with his men questioning the store staff in the third floor office, Tooasa was alone on the sales floor. His plan was to discreetly get rid of her before anyone saw her—her white hair had already attracted the attention of the guards, but as long as he kept them quiet no one else would be the wiser— but by the time he made his move, she was nowhere to be seen.

She who had come from nowhere was just as suddenly gone. In the half-second he had faltered, she had veered off with lightning speed towards the fitting rooms.

“So the body was found here? Appears to have been moved already, no bloodstains though. The victim didn’t bleed?”

“U-umm, little miss, c-could you not.”

He sped to her side to find her already inspecting the site on her own. The ‘fastest detective, moving the moment you glance away,’ he realized, was even faster in reality. He should have known better than to take his eyes off her…

However, she seemed overlook the tiny detail that she was squatting down by the room next to where the body was found. Well, they looked the same.

“Could you please stop calling me 'little miss'? I may not recall my own birthdate but, by accounts, I am twenty-five; hardly an age to be called little.”

Turning to him with an innocent smile,

You may call me Kyouko if you like, she said.

He did not feel right addressing her so informally, but 'little miss’ would be inappropriate now. His well-intentioned formality was pointless if it offended her.

“Kyouko-san, the victim's body was in the next room over.”

“Was it?”

“Ahem, not on the left— on the right…”

In the row of six fitting rooms, the body was in the third room from the right as you count. However, even within that room there were no traces of blood or signs of murder. The victim did not bleed despite the heavy strike to the head, just as Kyouko-san had noted.

So great detectives can deduce the truth without even seeing the body, huh— he was about to muse in this direction, but he simply felt daunted by the fact. Even Sherlock Holmes couldn’t deduce anything if he got the crime scene wrong.

In fact, neither could Kyouko-san,

“Uh-huh, Wouldn’t know that.”

She said, without a hint of embarrassment at her error. She slipped off her boots and slid into the fitting room in question— into the fitting room?

Her actions lacked haste, so natural that despite this blatant transgression transpiring before his very eyes, Officer Tooasa could not muster the will to stop her.

A room so recently vacated by a corpse would not be a place anyone in their right mind would venture into, yet just like that she'd defied that expectation. Though with the investigation having concluded there was no particular difficulty in doing so.

“Kyouko-san, I—"

“One moment please.”

The curtain swooped shut behind her.

His outstretched hand was just shy of reaching it— no click of a lock, as expected. But the unnatural sway of the curtain indicated that as it was drawn closed, the hook had caught.

Marching in without permission and secluding herself at a crime scene, even for a detective sent by the chief, was grounds for arresting her on the spot. However, seeing how things unfolded, his earlier statements might need retracting.

It was just a fitting room partitioned off by curtains, with a hook to hang your clothes, a poor excuse for a locked room that could easily be unlocked from the outside or slipped into from below the curtain. That's what he told himself but, when actually put in that situation, there was nothing he could do.

For a locked room it was physically flawed yet psychologically as formidable as welded metal. Why, the rustling of fabric could be heard from inside.

Was she changing?

Well, just using a dressing room for its intended purpose— but this meant he couldn’t now pull back the curtain. It would raise ruckus if she screamed. The last thing he needed was his men rushing in at her shriek.

“P-pardon, Kyouko-san, what might you be doing?”

“Of course I'm changing clothes.”

“P-please refrain from changing clothes at the crime scene, if you can help it.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

The turn of events left Officer Tooasa at a loss for words, and he could only call out to her from the curtain, still unclear of what was transpiring. Then, with a whoosh, the curtain was pulled open— and there was Kyouko-san, completely changed into a different outfit.

Now wearing a loose white and red checkered sundress that fell to mid-thigh, coupled with a pair of skinny jeans underneath.

Huh— Even Tooasa had noticed.

Though in his eyes all clothes (especially women’s) looked the same, at that moment he couldn’t help noticing her ensemble had come from Nashorn— the tags were still on, after all.

Apparently, when she had slipped into the dressing room, she had at some point also taken clothes on display next to her, as one does, in accordance with the rule of taking no more than two items in at once.

“Fufufu, this brand is simply lovely. I might just become a loyal customer,” she said, handing one of the hangers she held to Officer Tooasa. As he blankly accepted it, he heard her ask, “The murder weapon wouldn’t happen to be a hanger like this, would it?”

Next ＞

#boukyaku tantei #okitegami kyouko #translation

[panterrraa]

Eidolon

Chapter 1 : Pact

This will be a long-ish Scorpion x OC fic in honor of the new MK1 trailer. Really it’s just an excuse to use one of my favorite CDrama tropes: woman must disguise herself as a man for one reason or another (usually self-preservation), keeping her identity a secret even from the object of her affections. I have to set a little backstory so it’ll be slow to get going, but stick with it. Quick mention of Scorpion later in this chapter.

~~~~~~~

12 YEARS AGO Tamm was alone in the gathering darkness of the leafy hilltop. Having trudged up it from the opposite side over brambles and sawtoothed rock, she was relieved to see a small inn tucked neatly at its sloping foot. She couldn’t afford to stay over for more than a single night, but still. She made to walk the rest of the way there when a loud crackle sounded behind her. Blade drawn, she turned to face it.

It was a portal, bright and gaping, and out of it stepped a figure straight from the pages of her fathers old history books. He was not so ugly as the illustrations would have her believe. In fact, he had a kind of angular, highborn face.

She felt a measure of fear, but it was dulled around the edges by pure exhaustion. The man was dressed in green and gold, and on his head, a horned and burgundy crown. He took a step toward her.

“Do you know who I am, child?”

His voice was pleasant enough, deep and imposing.

“You’re Lord Shinnok” she said, trying to sound grown-up and self-assured. “The God of Death.”

“Very good,” he said expansively. “And you are the daughter of a traitor.”

It was said so matter-of-factly that Tamm blinked at him in astonishment. Had he come to fetch her to the Netherrealm or…what?

“Oh, don’t look so surprised. It’s the reason you won’t stay in one place for very long, why you roam the countryside disguised as a boy, isn’t it?”

“How-How do you know that?”

“Warriors are scant few these days. I make it my business to keep an eye on the more promising ones. And you, girl, are very promising, indeed.”

Tamm frowned. It was true she had spent the better part of her life either training under the strict thumb of her father or evading the new Kahn.

“What do you want?” She demanded, though inwardly she quailed. “Say it plainly,”

He smiled at her as though she had asked the one question he’d wanted her to all along.

“Fight for me, and I will not reveal your identity. The Kahn need never know.”

“But…that’s blackmail!” she said angrily, forgetting her alarm for a moment.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” he drawled without remorse. He looked thoughtful but unbothered by the accusation. “You have nowhere to go, no home nor kin. I offer you both. Or would you rather spend the rest of your miserable life on the run?”

She thought for a moment. If she refused him, she would be sent to the flesh pits or worse. The future yawned frightfully before her. Could she really spend it with no place to lay her head?

They stood for what seemed like some time in silence. The wind sluiced over them both and across the grass in rippling, cool waves, rolling on and down to the inn. She experienced it all as if it were the last time. The dark was nearly on them when he spoke again.

“Well? What say you?”

Tamm felt like her entire life had shrunk to this solemn point.

“Alright,” she answered, feeling sick.

“Smart girl.”

“So, what now?” It was asked lamely and with growing dread. It was all she could muster.

“You will take this to your grave,” he began simply, through rows of animal teeth. “Reveal neither yourself nor our bargain to anyone, otherwise we’re both done for. Do you understand?”

Tamm could only nod, rendered speechless as he made a final promise.

“The Kahn will never hear of it from my lips, so long as you obey me.”

Shinnok fell silent. He was cast halfway in shadow, bone-white and deliberate. He had made the offer forthrightly, but Tamm saw a savage intent in his eyes. His expression changed suddenly to one of sly interest.

“How old are you, little one?”

“15.” she gulped.

“Ah, still a child. I predict you’ll grow into a raving beauty someday. You have the makings of one, even now.”

Tamm didn’t know why, but she misliked the way he looked at her. It was much too eager. Shinnok abruptly straightened, assuming the stance of a well-bred gentleman. He gave her an assessing look.

“When you are ready, truly ready, I will come.” he said, stepping back into the waiting portal. Tamm couldn’t know that in a few months time, he would do just that.

“In the meantime, I must continue to try and bring a very angry pyromancer into my employ.” Shinnok gave a stately bow as the portal closed over him in a violet haze, and the only words going around and around in her head were: What have I done?

#scorpion mk #scorpion x oc #mortal kombat #fanfic #hanzo hasashi #Shinnok #scorpion fanfic

[drenvs3000w24]

Blog 10: Ethics as an Interpreter

I'm thinking a lot about the moral precepts that direct my work as a nature interpreter as I set out on my path. These guidelines are more than just a list of regulations to abide by; they are firmly held convictions and ideals that influence how I engage with nature and share its marvels with others. I will examine the fundamental values I bring to my work as a nature interpreter, my sense of social and environmental responsibility, and the methods that work best for my particular style in this examination of my personal ethics.

My ethic as a nature interpreter is based on a great respect for the natural world and a firm conviction in its inherent worth. In my opinion, nature is a complex and linked web of life that deserves our respect and care rather than just being a resource to be used for human benefit. This viewpoint is based on the understanding that all living things, including ecosystems, have intrinsic value, regardless of how useful they may be to humans. It guides me to approach each encounter with nature with humility, wonder, and astonishment. It informs my interactions with nature.

Central to my ethic is the principle of stewardship – the idea that we have a moral responsibility to care for and protect the environment for future generations. As a nature interpreter, I see myself as a guardian of the natural world, entrusted with the task of fostering a deeper understanding and appreciation of its beauty and fragility. This responsibility extends beyond mere preservation to active engagement in conservation efforts and advocacy for sustainable practices. I believe that we have a duty to leave the Earth in a better state than we found it, and that begins with each of us taking meaningful action to protect the environment.

As a nature interpreter, I see the value of building relationships between people and various communities as well as between people and the natural environment. I think that nature transcends social, political, and cultural divides to inspire, heal, and bring people together. In order to empower people from all backgrounds to explore and interact with nature, I work to establish inclusive and accessible settings. My dedication lies in eliminating obstacles to involvement and accessibility, be they social, cultural, or financial, and in elevating the perspectives of underrepresented groups in discussions about the environment.

An essential aspect of my ethic as a nature interpreter is a commitment to lifelong learning and growth. I recognize that our understanding of the natural world is constantly evolving, shaped by new discoveries, perspectives, and experiences. As such, I approach my work with a spirit of curiosity and open-mindedness, always seeking to deepen my knowledge and refine my interpretive skills. I believe in the power of storytelling, art, and experiential learning to convey complex ecological concepts in accessible and engaging ways, and I am constantly exploring innovative approaches to nature interpretation.

In addition to fostering connections between people and nature, I believe in the importance of fostering connections within communities and across sectors. Environmental issues are inherently interconnected and require collaborative, multi-stakeholder approaches to address effectively. As a nature interpreter, I see myself as a bridge-builder, facilitating dialogue and collaboration among diverse stakeholders to find common ground and develop holistic solutions to environmental challenges. I recognize that meaningful change often requires collective action and that by working together, we can achieve far more than we ever could alone.

In conclusion, my personal ethic as a nature interpreter is rooted in a deep reverence for the natural world, a sense of responsibility towards the environment and society, a commitment to fostering connections, and a dedication to lifelong learning and collaboration. These principles guide my practice and shape my interactions with both nature and people, inspiring me to work towards a more just, sustainable, and harmonious relationship between humanity and the Earth.

#nature #ecology #environment #ecofriendly #conservation

[bllsbailey]

We Might Have Found a School Worse Than UPenn, Harvard, and MIT on the Antisemitism Issue, George Washington University medical school

The University of Pennsylvania acted swiftly to clean house amid the backlash their president, Liz Magill, brought upon the school, delivering a heinous response on antisemitism in front of the House Committee on Education and the Workforce last week. When asked by Rep. Elise Stefanik (R-NY) if calling for Jewish genocide constituted harassment and bullying, Magill offered a detached and cold response that didn’t answer the question. In short, she wouldn’t give a clear answer, merely saying that such incidents should be viewed in context. 

The academic route blew up in her face, where she made it seem as if UPenn enabled the views that support genocide against Jews. Harvard President Claudine Gay and MIT head Sally Kornbluth gave similar answers. UPenn’s board of trustees met immediately following this disastrous hearing and recommended Magill's resignation. She submitted it formally on Saturday, but we might have found a school that’s just as bad, if not worse, than UPenn on this issue. Meet the faculty panel at George Washington University School of Medicine and Health Sciences, who might as well be staffers for the al-Shifa medical facility in Gaza, the nerve center of Hamas’ operations in the region. They said Hamas terrorists have the right to resistance (via NY Post): 

George Washington University’s medical school hosted a faculty panel last week that declared Hamas terrorists have a “right of resistance” against Israel, according to video footage exclusively obtained by The Post.  The Dec. 4 discussion was titled “Understanding the Conflict in Israel and Palestine” and was sponsored by the School of Medicine and Health Sciences’ Anti-Racism Coalition and the Institute for Middle East Studies.  Panelists referred to the Jewish state’s military operation in the Gaza Strip as “ethnic cleansing” and “genocide,” while failing to discuss atrocities Hamas committed in its Oct. 7 attack against southern Israel, its designation as a foreign terrorist organization or that it is still holding more than 100 Israeli and US civilians hostage.  “Israel rightly can claim self-defense, but I also want to note here that Hamas and the Palestinians also have a right of resistance,” Michael Barnett, a professor of international affairs and political science, said during the panel.  “All of us have been shaken by the events of Oct. 7,” added Shira Robinson, a professor of history and international affairs. “But we all recognize that those events have a history.”  […]  Several concerned students and faculty tried to ask questions about the panel’s presentation but were ignored — with some also berated by anonymous users in the chat box during the Zoom meeting.  Jewish students at the medical school were particularly appalled by the panel discussion and told The Post that it had only contributed to the spread of antisemitism on campus that has exploded in the wake of Hamas’ terror attack.  Diversity and Inclusion Dean Yolanda Haywood apologized to the medical school community after the panel, but her statement on the fallout from the discussion neither mentioned Jewish students nor denounced antisemitism.  […]  Jewish students who spoke with The Post stressed that the statement was part of a pattern of “generic corporate apologies” by administrators who have not “taken any actionable steps to make their Jewish students feel safe on campus.”  “Being a medical student at GW now has made me feel alone and scared for the future of health care,” one said. “I am astonished how a medical school and its students, who dedicate their careers to preserving life, have been silent since Oct. 7.” 

Recommended

Hamas’ October 7 attack on Israel did expose how American antisemitic, pro-terrorist acolytes have infested academia, college campuses, and newsrooms. It’s not a total shock. We’ve seen former editors and reporters, namely Bari Weiss, formerly of The New York Times, flee their jobs due to the virulent antisemitism that percolated the halls. Antisemitism has always been around, but this has been a Mt. St. Helens-like explosion over the past few weeks. It’s not just students, but as you can tell from above, medical professionals, therapists, lawyers, and other professionals openly supporting Hamas on social media. Colleges are factories that are creating more antisemites—we’re seeing the fruits of that labor right now.

At least UPenn forced its Jewish genocide-enabling president to resign, which, tragically, might be the only time where one of these academic clowns are held accountable for their terrible positions on the subject. 

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[shadowypersonaanchor]

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#replica bags online

[bioserene]

"Rise and Thrive: Entrepreneurial Adventures Await"

My journey thus far in studying entrepreneurship has been pretty enjoyable and exciting; my classmates and I have all been involved in making some seemingly impossible things feasible, such as developing ideas that are not yet available in the market. As someone who has always desired to learn about business, I am fascinated by what money can accomplish to benefit others and improve one's own well-being. It's been over a month since this subject was presented to us. My first thought was that it would be the same as before, like selling food and advertising, but I was astonished to learn that in marketing, food is not the only means of survival. I realized that humanity is modernizing and that gadgets, services, and technology are now in high demand in the market.

The trip begins when each of us is assigned to conduct an interview with people we know outside the campus and with friends to answer our questions on what suitable innovation we can make that is not even available on the market. The majority of the suggestions are for minimal design and light-carry technologies; 2 out of 8 want an easy-purchase app website; and the rest want to improve agricultural farming in rural areas. 

My groupmates and I reviewed each answer and compiled it to address the topic that most of us gathered. We devised the idea of creating a little refrigerator that is portable and convenient to move anywhere and at any time. In addition, the energy saver, which uses solar energy, would aid with food preservation.

We began by asking the varying prices of our materials and polled various people to see what pricing they could offer in our product. We also came up with the name SOLER and a tag line that says ''If you cool it, you'll adore it!''

If we want to produce it in the market, we merely need to do more research on how we will improve our products and contact more manufacturers so that we can buy wholesale supplies and get discounts.

Building a firm and finding trustworthy partners is challenging. However, once you enter the business world, you will realize there is so much you can offer people in terms of inventing new ideas and making more money. This was proven by a student who went on to become a software engineer and quoted "The biggest risk is not taking any risk. In a world that is changing quickly, the only strategy that is guaranteed to fail is not taking risks." — Mark Zuckerberg.

#nature #positive mental attitude

[itswavelengths]

Everything in Moderation

The team at NVIDIA Studio released this video late last month showing off their new and astonishing "RTX Remix" tool for remastering PC games and I haven't stopped thinking about it. Taken at face-value the software allows developers and modders to easily and visually update assets and lighting in older games through some clever tricks and assistance via AI upscalers, sprucing them up enough to be considered truly remastered works. To be transparent: I am not a game developer, but I have been doing some digging into actual developer reactions to this and the term "wizardry" appears frequently. The ability to automate processes that needed to be done by hand, or to visually see changes made to textures and modeling reflected in real-time is a game-changer for the kind of work the modding scene has been painstakingly toiling away on for decades.

And although the focus of the presentation seemed to be aimed squarely at said modding scene — there are multiple times in which the presenter mentions they "can't wait to see what the community will do" — I do find it interesting on a high level that NVIDIA sought to make this tool in the first place, knowing full well that the remake and remaster side of the game development business has ballooned in recent years. The line between those two terms has never been blurrier, but there's no denying that we can't go a week without hearing about some long-dormant game being revitalized for modern consoles. For NVIDIA to not only recognize the business need for a better suite of tools to coincide with what can be considered its own mini-industry, but to provide such a huge collection of innovative concepts into the fold means we'll likely be seeing many projects coming down the pipeline soon. And by "soon" I mean it's likely that NVIDIA has already been helping shuttle multiple game remasters simultaneously through the RTX Remix pipeline behind-the-scenes for months. Not only are there credible rumors of remasters for Bioshock and Mirror's Edge in the works, but NVIDIA themselves unveiled a trailer for an RTX edition of the first Portal:

The realities of the games industry being... well... an industry... means IP-holders and publishers will frequently overlook the benefits of just porting an old game to new hardware, but given a cost-effective tool like this to hypothetically expedite the process I'm hopeful more forgotten classics will return in some playable form. Although remastering a game isn't quite the same as preservation, a desire to revisit and rerelease previously unplayable titles will usually be a net-positive in my book. One concern I keep mulling over though is the tendency to lose nuance in the process of remastering a game. In the past I've been critical of "next-gen ports" just adding ray-traced lighting to higher-res textures and calling it a day. There are times I've found in which relying on technological fixes end up removing the artistic intent of talented world and level-designers using hardware constraints to their advantage.

The PS5 version of Judgement comes to mind here in which, despite higher fidelity textures across the board, scenes previously awash in the vibrant glow of Kamurocho's neon nightlife take on a more realistic contrast at the expense of the original's atmosphere bringing out the best (and worst) in the city streets. Personally I think this is a case of early adoption — even the Portal with RTX trailer linked above seems like it's overdoing its lighting effects at times, sliders pushed all the way to the limit making previously highly-visible scenes take on a new and unintended darkness. While the tendency right now is to show off how powerful and exciting ray-tracing and AI-upscaling can be, developers will slowly start to incorporate them the way they do all other effects: with a light touch. There was a time when particles and destructible environments were all the rage as well, and every single game was littered with exploding bullet-hole-laden walls and floating motes of dust obscuring the player's view.

But I have faith in the future here, everything in moderation.

---

One last note here is a point in the video in which the following wildly disappointing sentence pops up:

Morrowind RTX is a technical showcase and is not currently under active development.

Sad!!

⏆

#Youtube

[aboutanancientenquiry]

Comparing various translations to English of the Proem of Herodotus’ Histories

From the material for the preparation of an Online Open House of the Kosmos Society of the Harvard University with Pr. Emily Greenwood, entitled “Herodotus, translation and interpretation”.

“CHS Kosmos workshop on 3/25/22 

Comparing translations of the proem of Herodotus’ Histories 

* Please read the following translations of the Proem of Herodotus’ Histories as preparation for the workshop on 3/25/22

Ἡροδότου Ἁλικαρνησσέος ἱστορίης ἀπόδεξις ἥδε, ὡς μήτε τὰ γενόμενα ἐξ ἀνθρώπων τῷ χρόνῳ ἐξίτηλα γένηται, μήτε ἔργα μεγάλα τε καὶ θωμαστά, τὰ μὲν Ἕλλησι τὰ δὲ βαρβάροισι ἀποδεχθέντα, ἀκλεᾶ γένηται, τά τε ἄλλα καὶ δι᾿ ἣν αἰτίην ἐπολέμησαν ἀλλήλοισι. 

Hērodotou Halikarnesseos historiēs apodeixis hēde, hōs mēte ta genomena ex anthrōpōn tō crhonō exitēla genētai, mēte erga megala te kai thōmasta, ta men Hellēsi ta de barbaroisi apodechthenta, aklea genētai, ta te alla kai di’hēn aitiēn epolemēsan allēloisi. 

1. J. Enoch Powell (Oxford University Press, 1949) 

This is the report of that which Herodotus of Halicarnassus hath sought out, that the things wrought of men be not blotted out by time, neither works great and marvellous performed of Greeks and barbarians be without fame. And first shall be told for what cause they warred one with another. (Powell 1949 (vol. 1): 1) 

2. Aubrey De Sélincourt (Penguin, 1954) 

In this book, the result of my inquiries into history, I hope to do two things: to preserve the memory of the past by putting on record the astonishing achievements both of our own and of the Asiatic peoples; secondly, and more particularly, to show how these two races came into conflict. (De Sélincourt 1954: 13) 

3b. Aubrey De Sélincourt (Penguin Classics, revised with a new introduction by A.R. Burn in 1972) 

Herodotus of Halicarnassus, his Researches are here set down to preserve the memory of the past by putting on record the astonishing achievement both of our own and of other peoples; and more particularly, to show how they came into conflict. (De Sélincourt, rev. Burn 1972: 41) 

3c. Aubrey De Sélincourt’s (Penguin Classics, revised edition edited by John Marincola, 1996) 

Herodotus of Halicarnassus here displays his inquiry, so that human achievements may not be forgotten in time, and great and marvellous deeds—some displayed by Greeks, some by barbarians—may not be without their glory; and especially to show why the two peoples fought with each other. (De Sélincourt, rev. Marincola 1996: 3) 

4. David Grene (Chicago University Press, 1987)

 I, Herodotus of Halicarnassus, am here setting forth my history, that time may not draw the color from what man has brought into being, nor those great and wonderful deeds, manifested by both Greeks and barbarians, fail of their report, and, together with all this, the reason why they fought one another. 

5. Robin Waterfield (Oxford World Classics, 1998) 

Here are presented the results of the enquiry carried out by Herodotus of Halicarnassus. The purpose is to prevent the traces of human events from being erased by time, and to preserve the fame of the important and remarkable achievements produced by both Greeks and non-Greeks; among the matters covered is, in particular, the course of the hostilities between Greeks and non-Greek. 

6. Andrea L. Purvis (The Landmark Herodotus, Pantheon Books, 2007) Herodotus of Halicarnassus here presents his research so that human events do not fade with time. May the great and wonderful deeds—some brought forth by the Hellenes, others by the barbarians—not go unsung; as well as the causes that led them to make war on each other. 

7. Pamela Mensch (Hackett Publishing Company, 2014) 

Here is the showing-forth of the inquiry of Herodotus of Halicarnassus, so that neither what human beings have done might disappear in time, nor the deeds great and admirable, partly shown forth by Greeks, and partly by the barbarians, might be without fame—an inquiry that shows forth both other things and through what cause they fought against one another.

Translations Cited 

DE SÉLINCOURT, AUBREY (1954) Herodotus, The Histories by Herodotus and Aubrey de Selincourt. Penguin. 

DE SÉLINCOURT, AUBREY (1972) Herodotus, The Histories. Translated by Aubrey de Sélincourt. Revised with an introduction and notes by A.R. Burn. Penguin.

 DE SÉLINCOURT, AUBREY (1996) Herodotus, The Histories. Translated by Aubrey de Sélincourt. Revised with introduction and notes by John Marincola. Penguin. 

GRENE, DAVID (1987) Herodotus The Histories, translated by David Grene. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press. 

MENSCH, PAMELA (2014) Herodotus: The Histories. Translated by Pamela Mensch. Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by James Romm. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company. 

POWELL, J. ENOCH (1949) Herodotus. Translated by J. Enoch Powell. 2 Vols. Oxford: Clarendon Press. 

PURVIS, ANDREA L. (2007) The Landmark Herodotus: The Histories, edited by Robert B. Strassler, with a new translation by Andrea L. Purvis and an Introduction by Rosalind Thomas. New York: Pantheon Books. 

WATERFIELD, ROBIN (1998) Herodotus The Histories. Translated by Robin Waterfield. With an Introduction and Notes by Carolyn Dewald. Oxford: Oxford World’s Classics.’

Emily Greenwood, Professor of the Classics and Comparative Literature, Department of Classics Harvard University  

Emily Greenwood’s research spans ancient Greek literature (especially historiography), classical reception studies, translation studies, intellectual history, postcolonial studies, and Black Studies. She has published two books: Afro-Greeks: Dialogues Between Anglophone Caribbean Literature and Classics in the Twentieth Century (2010), joint winner of the 2011 Runciman Award, and Thucydides and the Shaping of History (2006). She has also co-edited two volumes, Homer in the Twentieth Century: Between World Literature and the Western Canon (co-edited with Barbara Graziosi), and Reading Herodotus: A Study of the Logoi in Book 5 of Herodotus’ Histories (co-edited with Elizabeth Irwin). Her current book project, Black Classicisms and the Expansion of the Western Classical Tradition, explores the critical difference that local and transnational black traditions of interpreting Greek and Roman classics make to existing conceptions of the Western classical tradition and Classics as a node for black internationalism. She is also guest editor for a two-volume special issue of the American Journal of Philology on the theme of “Diversifying Classical Philology”.

https://kosmossociety.chs.harvard.edu/online-open-house-herodotus-interpretation-and-translation-with-emily-greenwood/

https://kosmossociety.chs.harvard.edu/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/CHS-Kosmos-workshop_Passages_Greenwood.pdf

#herodotus #classics #the histories #emily greenwood #translation and interpretation

[helloshrutiblogs]

Yoga and Ayurveda are keys to a better life.

Yoga and Ayurveda reside in parallel universes everywhere, especially in India. The two practices of yoga and Ayurveda complement one another because they derive from the same ancient Vedic wellness philosophy. They share the same fundamental ideas and convictions that promote an individual's overall well-being because they are derived from the same Vedic scriptures. Yoga focuses on bringing the mind, body, and soul into balance, whereas Ayurveda uses diet and lifestyle adjustments to care for a person's physical and mental welfare. Experts and amateurs respect their sister sciences, participating in each as much as they feel suitable.  

Because yoga and Ayurveda share the same concepts of being in tune with people's bodies and other natural things to aid healing, several yoga retreats in Rishikesh offered programs that combined the two disciplines. The practices of yoga and Ayurveda can both treat a variety of physical illnesses and revitalize your body. 

Good Food:

I wanted to learn more about why I am attracted to particular foods, how they make me feel when I eat them, what causes cravings, and what does not attract me. I became more familiar with Ayurveda due to this "yummy" approach. (Learn more:  https://www.artofliving.org/us-en/yoga/health-and-wellness/yoga-and-ayurveda). As you are probably aware, Ayurveda accepts the idea of "ahar" in regards to food. Abhishek Kumar, a Sri Sri Ayurvedic physician, explains that your Prakriti (inherent body constitution) determines the kinds of foods you should eat and avoid. These decisions, associated with how we live, prioritize the recommended ayurvedic medications.

Yoga often encourages a sattvic diet (light and pure); Ayurveda looks closely at which foods balance one's constitution (according to "dosha") and classifies food according to six tastes (sweet, sour, salty, bitter, pungent, astringent).

Awesome Feeling:

Yoga practice leads to an extension of pleasant feelings, beings, and behaviors toward oneself, society, and the environment. This idea of excellence is supported by Ayurveda, which explores the details of information on how to perform one's daily routine and infinite treatments for preserving health and preventing and curing sickness. It is astonishing to know that nature frequently provides hints of what it is helpful for. Numerous examples of herbs resemble the body's bones and joints.

The Psychology of Yoga:

The core disciplines of yoga (Dharana, dhyana, and samadhi), or the inner element of yoga, are utilized in Ayurveda to treat psychiatric illnesses and are employed mainly for healing the mind. As a result, traditional yoga treatment is primarily a form of psychology that makes use of mantras and meditation. Yoga is one of the most effective methods for resolving mental and emotional issues as practiced by Ayurveda.

Final thoughts:

Ayurveda offers the proper lifestyle advice for yoga practice and the background required to realize all of yoga's therapeutic benefits fully. Ayurveda and its implications have a psychological and spiritual foundation in yoga. Yoga and Ayurveda are both necessary for a truly holistic and spiritual approach to health care. While Ayurveda provides the scientific underpinnings, yoga focuses on spiritual practices and goals. 

#yoga practice #ayurveda #yogasehoga

[web1995]

SECONDARY BURIAL IN THE RAT’S PRIESTHOOD: WHY WAS CHUCKY CHEESE’S EFFIGY DESTROYED?

Cheese temples are an abundant, frequently excavated type of Neolithic archaeological site. The rat’s priesthood was clearly far reaching and embraced by millions of devotees (as a protector of children, gamblers, and harvests), and yet effigies of the rat himself are surprisingly rare— whether in the form of priest’s anthropomorphic costumes, or automatons. Recent findings, such as the unrecognizably dismantled automaton in Fig. 1, and a rare depiction of the destruction process in Fig. 2, have indicated that Chucky Cheese’s effigies were almost universally deliberately destroyed. 

Fig. 1

While human remains and burial grounds are not typically discovered within or nearby excavated cheese temples, the ritualized destruction of Chucky Cheese’s effigies closely mirrors burial practices in which the skull is broken. 

Fig. 2

In the authors’ opinions, this may indicate that the rat’s priesthood symbolically continued to bury their god as they once buried men.

Fig. 3

Discoveries of complete or even partial Chucky Cheese effigy heads, as seen in Fig. 3, are rare. The destruction, whatever motivated it, appears to uniquely target the rat’s face— or, to be specific, his skull. Though this violence was initially believed to be the actions of opponents to the rat’s priesthood, reading it as an act of desecration simply does not account for the scale on which it was done, nor for where it was done. All evidence points to this practice belonging to Chucky Cheese’s followers. 

Until recently, archaeologists and art historians could only guess at the motivations behind this practice. However, a recent finding (the Showbizpizza Tome) has provided astonishing new insights. 

Fig. 4

Fig. 5

Fig. 6

Fig. 7

In Fig. 4, 5, 6, 7, we see selections from the Showbizpizza Tome in which the rat priest reader is instructed as to the proper ritual care for the rat’s anthropomorphic costume. Clearly a document intended to preserve Chucky Cheese’s dignity and educate his priests in his mysteries, the real revelation is that it also provides instruction in the destruction rites. 

Fig. 8

In Fig. 8 (also the complete context of Fig. 1), Chucky Cheese explains himself: “Ouch! That smarts, but is very necessary so that I am no longer recognizable as Chucky Cheese. After de-identification, I may be discarded.” This depiction of the rat god clearly indicates a belief in defacing (literally!) the body before burial, which invites new speculation as to the origin of the rat’s priesthood. 

Did the rat’s priests originally destroy human bodies before burial as well, before retaining the tradition in the symbolic destruction of Chucky Cheese? The theory may at first seem absurd, but consider Chucky Cheese’s words. Why must his skull be destroyed for a proper burial? Evocative of other Neolithic secondary burial practices, such as the (roughly contemporary to the rat’s priesthood) mass grave site found at Herxheim, at which people of the Linear Pottery culture broke apart a staggering number of human skulls with peri-mortem violence, Chucky Cheese insists on de-identification. 

Perhaps Chucky Cheese was originally a death god, and his priests responsible for the care of the dead. 

Fig. 9

Why continue symbolically enacting a formerly-practiced burial method, if that is the case? We know that many rat priests themselves were buried in “coffins” or cremated, and have yet to find any evidence of ritualized skull destruction done to any human follower of the rat. Perhaps Chucky Cheese’s status as a deity who protects vulnerable members of society— children and gamblers— contributed to a need to protect him in turn. In Fig. 9, a modern reconstruction of a cheese temple, we see a pair of mosaics depicting Chucky Cheese alive and well, alongside happy and healthy children. 

Fig. 10

The architecture of the cheese temples, as seen in Fig. 10, which depicts another angle of the temple reconstruction, is eerily reminiscent to our modern readers of something which immediately resembles a tomb. It is tempting to ascribe significance to this similarity, especially when so many other details appear to support a theory that the rat’s priesthood really did stem from a funerary order of some sort, but this sort of building may have had no such connotations to its builders. Even if the authors’ suggestion is correct, the style of architecture seen here could just as easily have had the opposite meaning in its context, and been an attempt to separate from the religion’s deathly origins. We must not make assumptions from our own perspective! 

Fig. 11

Fig. 12

Fig. 13

Fig. 14

Fig. 15

In figures 11, 12, 13, 14, and 15, we can observe the destruction pattern of effigies preferentially targeting Chucky Cheese’s face/skull. This pattern is undeniable, unlike tenuous connections such as the tomblike atmosphere of the cheese temples or basing an entire analysis on a single document. Regardless of its origin, the destruction of Chucky Cheese’s skull undoubtedly held a deep ritual significance to the rat priests. In Fig. 15, only Chucky Cheese’s eyes have survived. 

As a note, it is not possible to identify which of these effigies may have depicted figures other than Chucky Cheese, given the complete destruction of the skull. De-identification truly does appear to be the goal. However, it is possible to identify separate eras of Chucky Cheese’s depictions, indicating that this practice continued across centuries. 

How might Chucky Cheese have transitioned from a death god to the deity his priests seem to have recognized him as?

Fig. 16

In Fig. 16, we see a tentative timeline of Chucky Cheese’s depictions throughout the centuries, beginning in the 1977th century BC and ending in the 2012th century BC. 

Fig. 17

His earliest depictions are obviously chthonic (Fig. 17). Around the 1994th century, these associations begin to disappear, giving way to a greater emphasis on his physicality, energy, and youth. 

While he seems to have remained a protector of both gamblers and children throughout the prominence of the rat’s priesthood, artists increasingly placed emphasis on his status as a protector of children, foregoing the guise of a high-stakes gambler, and the chthonic imagery. Chucky Cheese became a young athlete, then a musician, then an unemployed man enjoying a life of leisure (Fig. 18 shows an effigy depicting a later incarnation). 

Fig. 18

This overall movement away from the underworld towards a celebration of life are an excellent reason to consider that the mysterious origins of the rat’s priesthood (lost to history) may have been outright connected to the dead. 

Fig. 19

Sometimes, the removal of Chucky Cheese’s visage leaves no doubt as to its former presence, as seen in Fig. 19, which shows a partially excavated cheese temple. This defacing is reminiscent of damnatio memoriae which occasionally assists in recognizing faceless portraits (as certain historical figures whose faces’ images were destroyed), and yet a ceremony with apparently opposite intentions— to honor the deceased— to praise Chucky Cheese, not to bury him.

Cheese temples and the rat’s priesthood remain a little-understood part of Neolithic history, despite the abundance of rat-associated sites and the many well-preserved cheese temple artifacts. It is our hope that this article has invited the readers to make their own studies into the subjects of Chucky Cheese, secondary burial (ancient and modern), Neolithic skull destruction, cheese temple architecture, death gods, and so forth, in order to draw their own conclusions. The field is always in need of fresh eyes and new minds to think outside the bun! 

#art history

[marvelgeeklikestowrite]

Letters and lines quoted by Alex and Henry in their e-mails

Sense and Sensibility: “You want nothing but patience—or give it a more fascinating name, call it hope.”

Alexander Hamilton to Laurens: The truth is I am an unlucky honest man, that speak my sentiments to all and with emphasis. I say this to you because you know it and will not charge me with vanity. I hate Congress—I hate the army—I hate the world—I hate myself. The whole is a mass of fools and knaves; I could almost except you …

Hamilton said it better in a letter to Eliza: You engross my thoughts too entirely to allow me to think of any thing else—you not only employ my mind all day; but you intrude upon my sleep. I meet you in every dream—and when I wake I cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your sweetness.

Allen Ginsberg to Peter Orlovsky—1958: Tho I long for the actual sunlight contact between us I miss you like a home. Shine back honey & think of me.

Henry James to Hendrik C. Andersen, 1899: May the terrific U.S.A. be meanwhile not a brute to you. I feel in you a confidence, dear Boy–which to show is a joy to me. My hopes and desires and sympathies right heartily and most firmly, go with you. So keep up your heart, and tell me, as it shapes itself, your (inevitably, I imagine, more or less weird) American story. May, at any rate, tutta quella gente be good to you.

Hamilton to Laurens: You should not have taken advantage of my sensibility to steal into my affections without my consent.

Dear Thisbe,

I wish there weren’t a wall.

Love, Pyramus

Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf—1927: With me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal.

From Radclyffe Hall to Evguenia Souline, 1934: Darling—I wonder if you realize how much I am counting on your coming to England, how much it means to me—it means all the world, and indeed my body shall be all, all yours, as yours will be all, all mine, beloved.… And nothing will matter but just we two, we two longing loves at last come together.

Eleanor Roosevelt to Lorena Hickock—1933: I miss you greatly dear. The nicest time of the day is when I write to you. You have a stormier time than I do but I miss you as much, I think.… Please keep most of your heart in Washington as long as I’m here for most of mine is with you!

From Michelangelo to Tommaso Cavalieri, 1533: I know well that, at this hour, I could as easily forget your name as the food by which I live; nay, it were easier to forget the food, which only nourishes my body miserably, than your name, which nourishes both body and soul, filling the one and the other with such sweetness that neither weariness nor fear of death is felt by me while memory preserves you to my mind. Think, if the eyes could also enjoy their portion, in what condition I should find myself.

Richard Wagner to Eliza Wille, re: Ludwig II–1864 : It is true that I have my young king who genuinely adores me. You cannot form an idea of our relations. I recall one of the dreams of my youth. I once dreamed that Shakespeare was alive: that I really saw and spoke to him: I can never forget the impression that dream made on me. Then I would have wished to see Beethoven, though he was already dead. Something of the same kind must pass in the mind of this lovable man when with me. He says he can hardly believe that he really possesses me. None can read without astonishment, without enchantment, the letters he writes to me.

Wilfred owen to siegfried sassoon—1917:And you have fixed my Life—however short. You did not light me: I was always a mad comet; but you have fixed me. I spun round you a satellite for a month, but shall swing out soon, a dark star in the orbit where you will blaze.

Jean Cocteau to Jean Marais, 1939: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for having saved me. I was drowning and you threw yourself into the water without hesitation, without a backward look.

#alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex x henry #red white and royal blue #rwrb alex #rwrb spoilers #rwrb henry #letters #love letters #idiots in love