#this MUST be like. nine hundred thousand dead accounts

[angeltannis]

there’s a MILLION PEOPLE still tracking the Overwatch tag?!?

#this MUST be like. nine hundred thousand dead accounts #holy fuck tho #the thought that at one time there were a MILLION people interested in OW on tumblr alone #and now the tag gets like a dozen posts a day Maybe #(outside of scandals and crises anyway lmfao) #damn. thats Nuts

[lastconcourse]

dialogue

Stand in your living room: Sides of windowview framed by no trees You bought the service of a landscaper’s saw and had ‘em all cut down! Oh yeah, that’s right. Move, Stand in your foyer: Gray walls epoxied wood and an empty picture frame in which you could cast a memorized face were it that you had any to cast: you remember no faces (only voices) Burn your knees kneeling: The carpet. nine MILLION small towers of white bent over stringpalms colonized with the burstbodies of dead and dying microbe names all their bodies filled with letters. A-Z. Stand. d’stanownd⇒ now walk: each door you pass another mnemonic booster shot to boost the headache’s vigor reeemiiindeeers fooorwaaard coiling Lengthwise into privacy. There’s a TV in the bedroom, and a green cone of glow is cast left to right over plastic wood and a dull couch. A meeting with the gang is in order You have many friends. They don’t all agree with each other, and you don’t much agree with some of them... but they are undoubtedly at the level of familiar friendship. But first turn on the TV: Make your hand go! quick lift remote; brainthink nerveflash: go fingers, go! The Screen; a many-necked beast wields their framed faces in succession: The young one with glasses, one who always wears something new, another who uses steroids, a few politepresenters and a couple mean, each visage a sucker on a hungry hungry hydra May venome soothe..................................................... While with a wet ash stain growing hot on the couch arm, a silver cage surrounds you and comes a roar like a thousand engines at Daytona: blurred in the woof of Midwest storm head  thunder: Black hoses pump the legs as IT bursts down the hallway screaming at you bearing a dusty mirrorsketch that reflects two sunken eyes, yours truly a mess of a head of hair, pus leaking blackhead tipped nose, pimple covered forehead, acne scarred temples, bloated and haggard both, bloodshot eyes two, it’s a mirror: You are ugly, dying, and in full health.

Return

One silo, two silos, three silos, four silos, five silos, six silos, seven silos Congealing above is an actual thick fog to pair with the mindthink’s fog, a swooping A-Z schoolflock of swimflying fishgulls: Words move as creatures For letters are DNA that makes wordcreatures live and duplicate, No one is denying this. Vaporish moist wind like white powder, possibly even mixed with a real white powder from God knows where flung around in a parabola bisecting a needle hundreds-feet tall: beneath a cloud stabbed toward⇒ the earth A little torn up grass some deadyellow and some greengrowing; torn and mixed by the tornadicwhip like an angry troubled composer rips his hair out in a fit of rage when his woven melodies fail to capitulate. Bowling winds rock the semi trailer, the backyard fence, the trampoline, the recessed hairline of crops on an overfarmed field.

YOU cannot quite remember whether you ate or not. No one is denying this. Or whether you prayed or not. Or how to even feel faith in the first place Look at the limp receipt jammed in your wallet: workorder form for bulk of nails your boss Failed to get last night on account of loss of power throughout the town from a storm that brought the strongest winds in ten years while smacked blasts of thunder: Almost made lumber: Knocked eighteen trees onto detrimental lines: Power pylons killed by necks of broken pines. But you are only almost strung together from pieces of sensive notions grasped on the fly between insomnia’s reign Your stomach is hungry because you are worn You just ate. You just ate! You just ate. You just ate. You just ate and here’s the creep. Look! The creep. Or feel. Can you not see? Can anyone. But feel. To the left and the right. You must feel. Haha It’s growing like a finger pushing on the top of your brain. Hehe And sweat is forming on your neck: heartrate at beck and call. Ho ho! OFFICIALLY present: terrorawareness THE WIND IS PICKING UP! Relax. It’s easy to cool off why can’t you do it? Take a step back wait there’s nowhere to sit, that’s right.....Hahahaha I don’t understand. You were fine just a minute ago. 1) Can you count the numbers on the receipt and tell the price? 2) Can you count each individual microscopic blot of ink the receipt printer printed to depict the digits, and also tell me the type of printer used, the type of ink used in the printer and what city in America the ink was manufactured and the name of the truck driver who delivered it to the store that you bought the nails from? I don’t understand. You were fine just a minute ago....hahaha. The misty dagger of cloud with all the little letters swirling about has you......worried? You are UNRELIABLE. And I never should have hired you. I a boss in need of labor worked did pay not just cash, also sale of employer’s trust, to you young man. And you, young man, did say You would “get what I need.” These shit nails are rust! Unusable! Terrible! and ugly, you trying to give me tetanus, boy? Ouch this forehead aches! Pain! We’re fucked! Ouchie oww! So terrible and bad. I am getting tetanus now, you knave! Those are the things he said anyway. You were quickly soon consumed by a funnel cloud and never heard from again.

#free verse #dialogue #poet #poetry #poetic prose #verse #speech #horror

[rhysismydaddy]

Prisoner's Game Pt. 1 (Rowaelin)

Synopsis: Aelin Galathynius never thought of herself as a vengeful woman. Until her boyfriend not only testifies, but leads a case against her that lands her in prison for the rest of her life. Post I-Love-You's. He didn't believe her, and she's about to show him that not only is she innocent, he made the worst mistake of his life betting against her. To a woman with nothing but time, life's just a game, after all.

The cinderblock wall dug into her back uncomfortably as she reclined against it, the air in the room was stale, and she hadn't showered in two days. By any measurement, Aelin Galathynius was far from her best.

And yet she somehow managed to look perfectly at ease--happy even--as she lounged in her cell, toying with the ends of her too-long hair.

It was a ruse, of course, just a little trick to piss off the man currently stomping into her space. By the flare of Rowan Whitehorn's eyes, it worked.

"Hello, Rowan," she greeted pleasantly, giving him a little smile and acting like it wasn't taking everything in her not to use the makeshift knife under her pillow to gut him like the spineless coward he was.

She could tell, even across her 8x12 cell, that he was gritting his teeth and fighting a similar action.

The heel of his expensive Italian loafers clicked as he walked across the space to the small table and took a seat at the steel chair in front of it. He tried to push it out further, but stopped when he realized it was bolted to the floor.

"Aelin," he said back, none of the so-obvious anger he was feeling present in his voice. "Been a long time."

Eight years, six months, three weeks, two days, and thirteen hours.

Not that she was counting or anything.

She nodded her agreement, reclining further on the bed and crossing her legs as if she was in the finest dress she owned, not a faded orange jumpsuit.

"What brings you to my side of town, Rowan? Here to finally switch sides and represent me?"

Dressed in a two-thousand dollar suit and tie, hair perfectly gelled back, he looked like he was successful a lawyer meeting with a wealthy client, but they both knew the last thing he'd ever do was work for her.

"You know why I'm here."

She did indeed, but she still said, "I must be exceptionally smart to know why you've come all the way here-"

"Cut the shit," he snapped, finally losing a bit of his cool. He regained it quickly, though, and continued, "I want to know how you did it."

She frowned at her split ends. "Did what?"

Rowan waited until she looked at him to respond. "You know what."

Sighing so deeply it should've rattled the walls, she said, "I can't believe I've spent the last eight years thinking you underestimated my intelligence. You clearly think I'm some sort of oracle genius."

Rowan mimicked her sigh, and she bit her lip to stifle a laugh.

Probably trying to stall, he spent a moment looking at her cell, at the completely bare walls and lack of photographs. All she had was the tally marks drawn in pencil on one wall and a dusty chess set sitting on the table.

When he'd taken inventory of those two things, he sat and just looked at her.

It was clear she wouldn't admit to knowing exactly why he sat in front of her, and he was simply putting off being the one to fold.

Predictable, proud little man.

Eventually, he took his loss and said, "I want to know how you managed to rob me from inside the most secure prison in Rifthold."

She smiled, a full, undulated smile she hadn't used in a long time.

She'd been planning this moment since the day the bars had locked behind her, and it felt damn good to finally see it come to fruition.

According to what she'd heard, definitely not what she knew from personal experience, the private vault in Rowan's apartment had been broken into. Apparently, only one thing was missing: an antique dagger that had been handed down in the family and was now worth over a million bucks.

"Why do you think it was me?" she asked, still smiling.

He gritted his teeth some more, and she internally snickered at the idea he'd have permanent tooth damage because of her. Something else to remember her by.

Green eyes spitting flames at her, he growled, "You left a goddamn business card."

Aelin forced her eyes up to the empty bed above her head, trying her hardest not to laugh. "Maybe I'm being framed?"

"Your fingerprints were on it."

She did laugh then, then laughed some more when his eyes narrowed. He looked like he was about to strangle her. "Rowan, in case you haven't noticed, I'm incarcerated."

She gestured around them to her cell to prove her point.

The bastard just smiled.

Of course he knows that, she thought bitterly, forcing her hand back to her lap and away from where it'd started to creep toward the pillow.

"So how would I rob you?" she asked, getting her mind back on track.

"That's what you're going to tell me," he demanded angrily. "I want to know how you got out of here, got all the way across Rifthold, broke into my apartment, and stole from me without any surveillance camera picking it up."

Aelin ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it just right. When she caught sight of the impatience on his face, she fluffed it some more and readjusted the thin jacket on her shoulders.

It was always too damn cold in this place. She hadn't been warm in almost nine years.

Because of him.

Just for that, she fluffed her hair some more.

Then she said simply, "I didn't."

"Stop lying!" he shouted at her, eyes flashing.

She wasn't, but that was besides the point.

"Fine." She rolled her eyes like he'd won. "I got my cousin to-"

"Aedion spent the night in Wendlyn. His travel is verified, and there are at least a hundred eye witnesses that witnessed him singing karaoke all night. Stop. Fucking. Lying."

Once again, she wasn't lying.

Aedion sure as hell hadn't been in Wendlyn last night. She'd just wanted to make sure his alibi was air-tight as planned.

Sighing again, she asked, "Rowan, even if I did do it, why the hell would I tell you about it?"

His jaw worked for a moment, and she could tell whatever he was about to say was difficult for him. "I'll get time off your sentence if you tell me what you've done with it."

She tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help it.

It burst out of her, full and uncontrollable, and she flopped over on the dirty mattress and howled for a good few minutes.

He glared at her, looking for all the world like he was experiencing a portion of the rage she was made of, but regardless of the threat in his eyes, she took her time composing herself.

"I'm serving ten consecutive life sentences, you idiot."

One for each and every one of her "victims."

"I'll make it nine," he offered generously.

"Even if I was a cat, that'd still leave me dying in a prison cell. Offer me something else."

He just glared at her, unwilling to give her anything she could actually use or want. Just like she'd expected.

"That's what I thought. So no, Rowan Whitehorn, I'm not accepting your little deal. You can think I robbed you all you want; hell, you can even know, in your famous gut, that I did it." She tilted her head, a cruel smile filling her lips. "But it isn't about what you believe, it's about what you can prove. Isn't that right?"

His eyes shuttered at the words, and just like that, they were sucked into the memory of all those years ago.

~Eight years ago~

~Rowan~

Rowan rolled over, edging away from the woman next to him carefully as to not wake her.

Her hair was spread out on his chest, her soft hand was on his stomach, and her leg was draped over his. By all accounts, she was all over him.

And it felt so fucking good.

He'd never met anyone like Aelin before. Anyone so full of life, so hilariously open.

It was like she was constantly on fire, flitting from one place to the next with endless energy and jabs about him being too old and slow.

"What are you going?" she murmured, nails digging in slightly to keep him where he was.

"To get some water. Go back to sleep."

He leaned down and kissed her brow, and she sighed happily and rolled over. Like a total cliché, he watched her sleep for a moment, trying to get his feelings under control.

They'd been seeing each other for less than a year, but he couldn't imagine his life without her. He was in love with her, and if the way she acted and smiled around him was any indication, she loved him, too.

He ran a thumb over her cheekbone, smiling when she tilted her face into his touch.

He was whipped, and he didn't even care.

Rowan shook his head at himself, pulled on a pair of boxers, padded to the kitchen, and held a glass under the faucet.

Then frowned as it sputtered.

He figured he'd at least make himself useful, knowing damn well she would never agree to call the plumber when she could "figure out how to fix it herself on Youtube."

So he knelt down in her kitchen and opened the cabinet door, trying to see what the problem with the pipe was.

Except he never got that far.

His eyes got stuck on the piece of paper sticking out under a false piece of wood covering the back panel.

Knowing it was wrong to pry but somehow unable to stop himself, he tugged the paper loose.

Then fell backwards to his ass, heart hammering and brain spinning as he read it over and over again.

The list of names wasn't long, but all ten of the people on it were highly distinguished members of society.

And they were all dead.

He wouldn't know that, since the death of the last person on the list wasn't even public record yet, but he was the attorney working with the police to find the killer.

Why did she have this list?

And what did the numbers next to the names mean?

One way or another, he knew he had to find out. He also knew he couldn't ask her. He was in too deep, too unbiased to know whether or not she was lying.

He didn't trust himself with her, so he'd have to go the traditional route.

He took a picture of the paper quickly, tucking it back where he'd found it. He snuck back in the room to get dressed, leaving her a note he had to go to work.

He thought he was going to be sick as he left her apartment, a feeling suspiciously similar to dread coiling in his stomach.

There was only one way she could know that last name, only one explanation that made sense.

But he had to know for sure. Had to know if he'd been an idiot this past year; an idiot who'd spent almost every night sleeping next to the killer he'd been searching for.

So he started investigating his girlfriend.

Six days later, he found the security deposit boxes and the murder weapons inside, still covered in dried blood that would be matched to the victims. All with Aelin's prints on them.

Two days after that, the woman he'd thought was the love of his life was arrested on ten counts of murder.

Despite the tears she shed, despite the promises she made to him, despite the love she claimed to have for him, Rowan told the cops everything.

Even though he couldn't imagine her killing anyone.

"It doesn't matter what I believe, it matters what I can prove."

That was the last thing he'd said to her, right as she was being dragged out of the court room and yelling at him to believe her.

The truth of the matter was that when it came down to it, he didn't trust her enough. The facts were against her, everyone on the jury had been against her, and in the end, Rowan was too.

~Present~

~Aelin~

Rowan shook his head, almost like he needed to clear it from the memory they'd obviously both been immersed in, and she smiled.

She hoped what happened all those years ago still haunted him, hoped he went to sleep at night thinking about her and the betrayal he'd served to her on a silver platter.

The first year of her sentence, she was so lost in emotion--in the rage and confusion and deep, deep hurt--that she couldn't bring herself to do anything.

He hadn't even bothered to ask her first. That's what had hurt the worst.

He'd seen that stupid, stupid list and had jumped to the first conclusion possible.

She knew it had looked bad, had looked like she was guilty, but she'd thought that if the worst happened, he'd at least ask her to explain before slapping the cuffs on her.

But he hadn't. She'd gone to prison, and his career had exploded into stardom from the success of the case.

"See, Rowan, when you refused to accept any other explanation other than the easy one, you made a mistake. Because I didn't kill those people."

He rolled his eyes. "Aelin-"

"And I'm not only going to prove it," she continued as if he hadn't spoken, "I'm going to ruin your precious little life while I do it. Just like you did mine."

She stood, put a hand on the steel table, and leaned over him.

"If you want it to stop, all you have to do is drop these bullshit murder charges and issue a public apology for locking me up in the first place."

He stood too, so close his loafers brushed the toe of her dusty, prison issued sneakers.

"That's never going to happen," he promised, voice uncompromising and angry.

Aelin smiled, having predicted his reaction down to the facial expression.

His pride, she'd decided, would be the first thing to go.

She reached around him to slide the pawn on the chess board forward, leaned in even further, and whispered, "Let the game begin, then."

~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @gracie-rosee @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan #rowan whitehorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galythinius #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction

[thetamrieliclibrary]

Pocket Guide to the Empire, First Edition: Aldmeri Dominion

The Aldmeri Dominion is a relatively recent creation. [1] Formerly divided into he two realms of the Summerset Isles and Valenwood, the Aldmeri Dominion has its origins in CE830, when the heirs of the Camoran Dynasty began to fight over the Valenwood throne. When a faction of the Bosmer (Wood Elves) made overtures of peace to their longtime enemies in West Cyrodiil--territorial concessions in return for Colovian support for the faction's claimant--the Altmer (High Elves) of Summerset invaded the Valenwood Nations. Citing a stewardship clause in a treaty from a thousand years before, the High Elves quickly established a provisional government, the Thalmor, on behalf of their own claimant, Camoran Anaxemes, whose bloodline had struck the pact with the Aldmeri Council in the first place. As the Cyrodilic Empire was still in the shambles of the Interregnum, the Colovians were quickly driven back by the Aldmeri army. The other heirs of the throne were silenced, the Wood Elves thanked their cousins for bringing back stability, and the High Elves reminded Anaxemes the price of Summerset's aid: fifty years' fealty to the King of Alinor. The Aldmeri Dominion was born. [2]

The Thalmor strengthened its hold on the Valenwood Nations during the foundation of the Third Empire. Savage Bosmer tribes skirmished with the Estates along the River Strid, whipped to a frenzy by their High Elven masters. With the Empire now reunified under Tiber Septim, these attacks have subsided; but encampments wait on either side of the Valenwood border, awaiting a decisive battle.  On the occasions when the Elves probe the Empire's defenses, the Legions have sent them back in tatters. Indeed, the Colovians have taken to calling their enemy the "Old Mary" Dominion, for the womanly offensives of its Elven soldiers. The situation at sea, however, is another story, and the Dominion terrorises the southern waters from the Cape of the Blue Divide to the Topal Bay. [3] Their sorcery has made allies of a few Reachmen, the Maormer of Pyandonea, and, as of this writing, perhaps even the Elsweyr Confederacy. Though no formal declaration of war has been made, Tamriel is divided between the Empire and the Elder Races, and Tiber Septim has made it known to the Thalmor that he is the True Emperor of Cyrodiil, and heir to all of its former holdings. The Elves of Tamriel have yet to answer.

Considering we have endured their offenses for two thousand years, we know surprisingly little about the Aldmeri. (Only Morrowind, under Skyrim domination during the First Empire, and open to travel and trade during most of the Common Era, is somewhat better known.). The Elves of High Rock and Cyrodiil were either wiped out long ago or displaced into obscurity. As for the Elves of the Dominion, our knowledge of their regions is limited to brief Imperial occupations, or to the translations we have of their literature (see "The Scarcity of Elven Writings").

Of particular scarcity is information about either the High Elves or the Summerset Isles. During the Second Empire [4] ambassadors were allowed only in the capital of Alinor, and thus any description of the Altmeri homeland is confined to that city alone, and elsewhere (see Places of Note--Alinor). Furthermore, we can offer only this brief but reliable account of the High Elven people. It comes from the journals of Eric of Guis [5]. Reman's emissary to the Altmer, who lived among them ca. 1E2820:

"High Elves consider themselves to be the only perfect race. Over hundreds of generations they have bred themselves into a racially pure line, and are now almost identical to one another in appearance. The theory that the High Elves do not reproduce as quickly or as often as humans is false. Rather, and to my horror, they kill nine out of ten babies born to them in their obsession for purity.

"The Altmer despise other Elves as unsophisticated churls and barely consider the non-Aldmeri races at all. They pay their Imperial tithes, I'm sure, not for fear of war with the humans but rather to keep an invasion from "infecting" their islands.

"Breeding outside the pure line is a terrible, unthinkable crime, and taken as prima facia evidence of the tainted blood of the individual in question--if they were, they wouldn't have the impulse to do it. Exile to the mainland is regarded as equivalent to a death sentence, since there is no purpose to living outside their ideal society.

:They have a high regard for order and gravitate naturally towards wearing uniforms and speaking in formal patterns. Their trees and their livestock have been bred to be as standard and ideal as they are. They have no real names of their own, only combinations of numbers that, when aloud, sound to human ears as such. They feel no real tenderness for one another and have no concept of compassion.

"They are decadent and self-obsessed, and prize form and their own brand of manners or style as their main value. Aware of their aristocratic position, they surround themselves with riches and treasures, the works of great artists and the finest of everything, but have no real appreciation for any of these things. Each of them is concerned solely with himself, and as a result they do no real socialising; they meet and hold courts only to demonstrate their importance and power to each other. Rarely do they speak to the human ambassadors of Cyrodiil; when they do, their speech is full of riddles, or spell-words that enchant one to a satisfied madness."

Valenwood was claimed as a wasteland province of the Second Empire, and its geography is partially described in several Imperial surveys. Valenwood is noteworthy in that it has no cities or townships built by the Wood Elves themselves. Their strict "Green Pact" prohibits the use of wood or other vegetable derivatives as building materials, and they are too improvident to learn the use of stone. The Wood Elves permitted a few roads to be built by the Second Empire, but neglect their maintenance, as the Bosmer do not need roads to move easily through the thickest forest; these roads would be now overgrown were it not for the High Elves of the Thalmor, who have repaired and widened them for rapid passage of their arms to and from the coast. Much of the region is impenetrable mangrove and coastal rain forest, with few grasslands or glade areas until further north near the Strident Coast. Many of the human trading posts established by the Second Empire have been abandoned or claimed by the beastfolk--Centaurs, Orcs, and Imga--that share the forests with the Bosmer tribes. Humans, in general, have learned not to intrude in the forests of Valenwood. While they once depended entirely on the annual Stridmeet caravans of the Colovian  West, the Wood Elves now rely on the sea piracy of the Dominion for whatever they require from the outside world.

Concerning the Wood Elves as people, we must again turn to the prolific Eric of Guid. After a grateful dismissal from the Court of Alinor, he stayed with the Bosmer for a time at the capital city of Falinesti, during its summer migration. As the city strode along the coastal region of the Cape, Eric of Guis recorded much about Valenwood culture:

"No less abhorrent are the Bosmer than their kin at Summerset, but they are far more cooperative. The Wood Elves love the current human activity because it makes them feel important. 

"They are exclusively and religiously carnivorous. They cannot, or will not, eat anything that is plant-based. They eat game, beastfolk, each other, or meats imported from other regions. This part of the Green Pact is known as the Meat Mandate, and, among its other rules, it requires that a fallen enemy must be eaten completely before three days pass. The family members of the warrior that slew the enemy may help him with his meal. Needless to say, the Wood Elves do not like to engage in large battles if they have not undergone a suitable starvation period.

"Though they are excellent archers, the Green Pact forces their bowyers and fletchers to use bone or similar material, or to buy bows from other cultures. The use of woodcrafts created by another race is not forbidden, nor is the sale of their own Valenwood timber as long as it is collected by a non-Bosmeri.

"The Wood Elves, of course, cannot some anything of a vegetable nature. Bone pipes are common, however, and are filled with caterpillars or tree grubs.

"For a brief time the Colovian armies used Wood Elf archers, as in the War of Rihad two years past. The Bosmer proved to be too undisciplined and prone to desertion for further use. They would sometimes walk into the shade of a single tree and vanish. Their forest-coupling skills are remarkable. The title of their most famous poem, the Meh Ayleidion, means "The One Thousand Benefits of Hiding."

"At the trading posts of the Empire, the Wood Elves become very happy. Some creations of carpentry delight them to no end. Most of it has never occurred to them. They bring their own trade items: hides, river pearls, finger-bone charms made from the still-magically-charged hands of their dead wizards. They often buy woodcrafts that they have no use for or whose use they never bother to find out. Some of the bravest Wold Elven warrior use wagon wheels as shields, or as (they think) impressive headgear.

"While sometimes amusing, the Bosmer have a bestial side. They can resort to animal shapes if they need to, or water. Their most dreaded transformation is the Wild Hunt, which killed King Borgas [6] for the "iniquities" of his Alessian faith. The Wild Hunt is a pack of shifting forest-demons and animal-gods, thousands strong, which sweeps through the countryside killing everything in its path. The Wood Elves do not like to talk about the Hunt, and I gather they do not feel proud of this power at all--Gomini, my Bosmer companion of late, tells me that the Hunt is used for justice, but that also, "every monster in the world that has even been comes from a previous Hunt. Those Bosmer that go Wild, they not not return.""

The traveller is advised to avoid the lands of the Aldmeri Dominion. Though the Thalmor have representatives at the Imperial City, and the Cyrodiilic Grand Vizier Zurin Arctus is meeting with the King of Alinor, contact with the Bosmer and Altmer are often disagreeable to the common Imperial citizen. Avoid their books and magic. Wear the permitted weaponry when near their borders. If you are manly and able, apply for service in the Legions.

The Scarcity of Elven Writings

Much of the blame for this can be laid on the Alessian Order, which was tireless in ferreting out and destroying Elven writings during its long dominance. Today, we are left with the beautiful heresies of the Anuad, surviving only by virtue of their popularity and proliferation, and perhaps a dozen more works of lesser renown. This, though, does not explain fully the scarcity of Elven letters. We might turn to Dylxexes, an early human scholar, for another answer. After studying the financial records of the Direnni Hegemony, a High Elven merchant family that exploited the human kingdoms of its day, he had this to say: "These [records] may help to explain why so much of Aldmeri literature is forbidden, scorned, or untranslated, for I have seen [their] like before. The Direnni were either exceedingly paranoid or their system of economy so inextricably linked with dangerous theosophist numeral-symbolism that much of what is recorded here requires... sorcerous precautions on the part of the reader. [Hidden magic] is everywhere incorporated in their writings... signs and preternatural runes and [correspondences]... in expenditure columns, even, or margins [that] can be fatal to the uninitiated. Crucial pages were covered with the spittle of the previous translator, who had babbled idiotically over the text for days before catching fire."

The Great Apes of Valenwood

The Great Apes, or Imga, are native beastfolk of Valenwood. they see the High Elves as their lords and masters, and as a portrait of an ideal, civilised society. Great Apes go to desperate measures to emulate the High Elves: they wear capes, practice with the dueling sword, and attempt to speak with perfect enunciation and courtly manners despite their gravelly, baritone voices. Each Imga bears some kind of title, be it Baron, Duke, Earl, or the like, which they use when addressing the members of the Thalmor (needless to say, there are no landowning Great Apes). More extreme Great Apes shave their bodies and powder their skin white to seem more like the High Elves. They often cut themselves in the process, creating the truly pathetic picture of a naked white Ape, skin dotted pink with blood, strutting around the trading posts of Valenwood with mock nobility. The Imga feel that humans are beneath them as lesser beastfolk, and pretend to find their smell exceedingly offensive--a Great Ape holds a perfumed corner of his cape to his nose when Men are around.

Places of Note

Alinor

A forbidden city for nearly fifty years, Alinor is both capital of the Summerset Isles and the heart of the Aldmeri Dominion. Human traders were only allowed at its ports, and they described the city as "made from glass or insect wings." Less fantastic accounts come from the Imperial emissaries of the Reman Dynasty, which describe the city as straight and glimmering, "a hypnotic swirl of ramparts and impossibly high towers, designed to catch the light of the sun and break it to its component colours, which lies draped across its stones until you are thankful for nightfall."

Falinesti

The walking city of the Bosmer king, Falinesti is south in the summer and north come Hearth Fire. It is the largest of Valenwood graht-oaks, whose magic was invoked at the dawn of recorded history. The Camoran throne is somewhere in the highest branches, as are numerous other dwellings. Wood Elves climb about its surface like termites, or carefully swing from level to level by means of thorny vines. Humans have generally been too unsettled by the city to stay there long, though Great Apes and Orcs are common. The Thalmor has decided to change the campital of Valenwood from Falinesti to Elden Root for the duration of the Aldmeri Dominion.

Annotations

1. Of this pamphlet, this regime, this lunacy 2. I don't know where to begin pointing out the lies 3. !!! 4. My bones chill thinking of such rampant human trespass 5. Does Grandfather remember this fool? 6. Wood Elves of the Wild Hunt, 1e369, still about in Valenwood--Willy the Bitten returned to haunt Silvenar Grove, While King Dead Wolf-Deer stalks the Lynpar March.

~ Follow for more books, journals, and notes from the Elder Scrolls series ~ Updates daily ~

#tes #the elder scrolls #tes books #the elder scrolls books #summerset isles #valenwood #altmer #bosmer #admeri dominion #alinor #falinesti

[giftofshewbread]

Converging Signs

 By Daymond Duck     Published on: June 20, 2021

Many excellent Bible prophecy teachers believe there will be a convergence of the signs (all of them coming on the scene) at the end of the age.

Here are some reasons to believe that is happening now.

One, concerning the Battle of Gog and Magog: on June 7, 2021, U.S. Sec. of State Blinken said if Iran continues to violate its nuclear agreement, Iran could have enough enriched uranium for a nuclear weapon in a matter of weeks.

If Israel follows through on its threat to prevent this, Israel could be forced to act very soon.

(Note: On June 14, 2021, Amir Tsarfati said, “If nothing is done in the next month or so, Iran will be nuclear.”)

Two, more on the Battle of Gog and Magog: in recent years, Israel has launched hundreds of strikes against enemy targets in Syria, but on June 9, 2021, Israel launched one of its largest strikes ever.

In the early morning hours, Israel struck several major Iranian targets (some sources say at least 6) almost simultaneously all over Syria.

The attacks were followed by several hours of secondary explosions, indicating that out-of-control fires continued to destroy stored missiles, rockets, powder, etc.

The attacks will probably get more intense as Iran gets closer to developing nuclear weapons.

Three, concerning Israel: on June 13, 2021, the government of Prime Min. Netanyahu ended, and the government of Naftali Bennett and Yair Lapid began.

The Bennett-Lapid government contains 8 political parties (some leftist, some non-religious, a minority of conservatives, and a group of Arabs with ties to the terrorist group called the Muslim Brotherhood).

Some conservative religious Jews say:

Israel’s new government is evil, dangerous, and it will end Zionism (the Jewish character of Israel; freedom of religion in Israel, etc.).

Bennett has lied because he promised during his campaign for office that he would not form a government with some of the political parties that he has now joined forces with.

The Bennett-Lapid government will divide Israel because Arab leaders claim that Bennett and Lapid made concessions that will let them reclaim land in Israel, and Bennett and Lapid are not denying it.

Prophecy teacher Amir Tsarfati said:

The new government is the beginning of the end of Israel as Christians have known it.

God is changing Israel for the worse.

Israel is no longer a democracy, no longer conservative, no longer united.

He believes the stage is being set for the fulfillment of major prophecies (perhaps Gog and Magog, a covenant, the Tribulation Period, an agreement to rebuild the Temple, etc.).

Prophecy teacher J.D. Farag said:

Some suggest that the unprecedented four elections and now this new government may actually be the catalyst for the anti-Messiah to arrive on the scene under the banner of the vacuum of leadership.

Israel is ripe and ready for the Antichrist to come on the scene now like never before.

Prime Min. Netanyahu said:

His party “will not rest until we get rid of this dangerous government.”

Bennett “is not a man who upholds his word. Neither are he and his ministers capable of standing up the U.S. and world nations – nor are they even willing to do so.”

“They are not fit to represent this country for a single day.”

“They must be celebrating in Tehran” (Iran).

Israel needs the prayers and support of Christians as much as ever.

Four, concerning world government: many highly respected Bible prophecy teachers have long taught that U.S. power and influence must decline, and EU power and influence must increase.

Pres. Biden is traveling overseas for separate meetings with the G-7, NATO, the EU, and Russia.

Concerning Biden’s meeting with EU officials, it was reported that many EU officials believe it is time for the EU to start influencing U.S. policy instead of the U.S. influencing EU policy.

According to one report, EU leaders plan to be less submissive to the U.S. and more likely to carve out a bigger role for the EU on the world stage.

Five, also concerning the decline of America: on June 10, 2021, Rev. Michael Bresciani, editor of American Prophet, expressed his opinion about several issues that are well worth repeating.

Concerning whether black lives matter or not: Bresciani asked how can anyone say that black lives matter “when almost 4,000 black babies a day are aborted, and many thousands of black lives are lost yearly to black-on-black crime?”

Concerning worship of the Antichrist: Bresciani said, “Our children are being indoctrinated by liberalism, critical race theory, BLM, Antifa, communism and Godlessness – is it not all that hard to believe that they, our children, will be the ones who will soon worship this ‘beast’ scripture refers to as the antichrist? If you are thinking this is not possible – you are not thinking.”

Concerning the mixing of genes from humans with monkeys in China, the mixing of genes from humans with pigs in California, and the mixing of genes from humans with mice in Japan: Bresciani asked, “If God is displeased with the perverting of the sexes, what will his reaction be to the mixing of the species?”

Bresciani believes these things are coming from depraved minds, and they signify that America is sinking into depravity.

Six, Rev. Bresciani mentioned the world’s tallest moving statue called “The Giant.”

“The Giant” is a 10-story tall digital art gallery with millions of pixels in the shape of a human, its head and arms move, it speaks and sings, changes its appearance every hour to look like different famous people, and it will be displayed in 21 cities in 2021.

Concerning this statue: Bresciani quotes what the Bible says about the statue of Antichrist. “And he had power to give life unto the image of the beast, that the image of the beast should both speak, and cause that as many as would not worship the image of the beast should be killed” (Rev 13:15).

Bresciani is not saying “The Giant” is the statue of the Antichrist, but he is saying that the creation of a statue that looks like the Antichrist and speaks is no longer in doubt.

This writer believes that God is showing the world pictures or shadows of things in the Book of Revelation, and the coming fulfillment of those prophecies is not in doubt.

Seven, in case anyone doubts that world leaders are in the process of establishing a world government, here is this writer’s understanding of some of what G-7 members agreed to in writing on June 13, 2021.

Work with the G-20 to explore ways to strengthen accountability, increase the tracking and allocation of global health security financing, and establish a Global Health Threats Council (use Covid-19 vaccinations to track people’s health, etc.).

Reform the World Trade Organization (WTO) to make it more resilient and responsive to the needs of global citizens (citizens of the world, not citizens of nations).

Push a global tax system to improve the global economy, the prosperity and wellbeing of all people (wealth redistribution), to uphold the common good (world government) and our shared values (world religion).

Maintain its commitment to international cooperation, multilateralism and an open, resilient, rules-based world order (world government).

Tackle racism in all forms and violence and discrimination against LGBQTI+ populations (oppose those that hold Christian values).

Reaffirm its commitment to the Paris Climate Accords (an agreement that some say surrenders the sovereignty of nations) and strengthen and speed up its implementation (push nations to act faster and more aggressively; speed up world government; understand that the existing UN goal is to have it up and running by 2030 and the G-7 wants to speed things up). Vaccinate at least 60% of the global population by 2022 and recognize that extensive immunization is a global public good (make forced vaccination a global law for the benefit of world government).

Ensure that Iran will never build a nuclear weapon (force a nation to obey world law).

The Holy Spirit is the only One that can restrain the coming world government and world religion, but people need to know what is coming and truly accept Jesus as their Lord and Saviour before the globalists bring in their world government and world religion.

Eight, for whatever it is worth, on June 14, 2021, Populist Press reported, “The truth is coming out. I think we all expect this as Biden is going downhill fast!”

“Trudeau [Pres. of France] overheard telling staffers he expects Kamala Harris to be President by the end of 2022 per W.H. official attending G7.” (This comment was originally posted on Twitter on June 14, 2021, by political activist and news correspondent Jack Posobiec.)

Nine, concerning vaccinations for Covid-19:

On June 14, 2021, LifeSiteNews reported that “The vaccine advisory committee of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) will convene an emergency meeting this week to discuss heart-related side effects possibly linked to Covid-19 vaccines.”

The same report said, “Johnson & Johnson’s jab again was dragged into controversy last week when the FDA ordered the company to discard 60 million COVID-19 vaccine doses, citing contamination risks.”

Finally, are you Rapture Ready?

If you want to be rapture ready and go to heaven, you must be born again (John 3:3). God loves you, and if you have not done so, sincerely admit that you are a sinner; believe that Jesus is the virgin-born, sinless Son of God who died for the sins of the world, was buried, and raised from the dead; ask Him to forgive your sins, cleanse you, come into your heart and be your Saviour; then tell someone that you have done this.

#father's #day #father #son #holy ghost #holy #spirit #June #20th #2021 #news

[in-dire-need]

Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge- My Chemical Romance

The only 2004 album that could even come close to giving American Idiot a run for its money is Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge. My Chemical Romance’s second full-length album shot the band out of its familiar water. Its numerous hits continue to reach billboard charts, such as opening track “Helena” and world-renowned “I’m Not Okay.” According to frontman Gerard Way, Revenge stands as a “pseudo-conceptual horror story”. Every track on the album ties into this twisted and supernatural story of the two lovers featured on the cover, which was created by Gerard Way.

“Helena (So Long and Goodnight)” opens this story of Three Cheers with a heartfelt yet twisted dedication to the Way brothers’ grandmother, Elena Rush, had passed away under circumstanced unknown to the public during the band’s tour of I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love. Elena had heavily influenced the brothers from a very young age and inspired them to pursue their dreams. When she passed, Gerard Way was sent into a spiral of anger and self-destructive behavior. He wrote the song to be somewhat of a letter to himself, expressing the hatred he felt for himself at the time. Despite the dark theme behind the lyrics, “Helena” continues to be a radio classic on rock stations everywhere. 

The story element behind the album begins during the second track, “Give ‘Em Hell, Kid”. A man has been divided from his lover after the devil resurrects him from the dead and, in order to resurrect his wife as well, he must kill one thousand evil souls and present them to the devil. While he ventures out to accomplish this, his wife wonders where he has gone and is clueless of his plans. She is livid at him for wrecking their marriage that began when they were young and dumb. In the next few tracks we listen as the protagonist crashes a wedding in order to kill the guests. He begins to question his sexuality and if his wife is worth one thousand souls. Continuing the double-meaning, the “To The End” is also based on the short story “A Rose For Emily” by William Faulkner. In this story, a rich wife begins suspecting that her husband may be a homosexual, so she poisons him before he cheats on her or leaves her. 

“You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us in Prison” features Bert McCracken, frontman of The Used, with whom all of My Chemical Romance was extremely close with at the time of Three Cheers’ release. Gerard was also featured on their 2004 album, In Love and Death, which toured with Three Cheers after its debut. Since then, the bands had a falling-out and didn’t speak for years before heavily hinting that The Used would be opening for My Chemical Romance’s reunion tour that was scheduled for 2020. This information was never officially announced, though, seeing as COVID-19 has ruined every hope and dream that it could lay its greasy paws on. Anger aside, “Prison” continues the protagonist’s journey to kill one thousand evil souls to resurrect his wife as he is arrested in a restaurant gunfight. Once in prison, he begins falling for an inmate of the same sex, which confuses and upsets the protagonist who had assumed he was heterosexual for his entire life. He still dreams of his deceased lover, whom his journey is all for. The other inmates begin to take advantage of him, forcing him to dress in drag and give blowjobs to accommodate to their sexual desires. He begins to lose his sanity and believes that he might as well be executed since he will not be able to fulfill his mission from prison. He decides that when he leaves, he will burn down an entire hotel to quickly raise his body count.

Another track that has gone down in history is number four, “I’m Not Okay (I Promise”. It follows a girl who struggles with dealing with the problems in her life. She vents and complains to her boyfriend, who is dealing with his own problems. He puts them aside to comfort his girlfriend time and time again. She does not take this into account and simply continues to wallow in her own pain, attempting and failing to relate to sad songs with deeper meanings. He has finally had it with her by the end of the song and explodes, telling her that he is not okay and he is done with her melodrama. “The Ghost of You” is another smash hit produced by this album, which continues the story already present. The protagonist expresses the grief he experienced after losing the lover he is trying so hard to save. Later tracks emphasize this as the protagonist begins to doubt his ability to bring his lover back.

Standing as a message of inspiration and a sign not to give up, “Thank You For The Venom” has become very popular within its target audience. Critics began to blame My Chemical Romance for making music purely to become famous, to which the band responded saying that the fans are a huge impact on their music. They never wanted to be on the front covers of magazines and at the head of the rock scene, but at a certain point they could no longer fight the inevitable. The song narrates what is possibly a nun attempting to convert a horrible sinner, then being murdered by the man. The sinner could be the protagonist continuing his killing spree, knowing that no amount of preaching could save him. In the following tracks, he questions again if his lover is really worth kill one thousand evil souls. After a woman representing his lost love holds him at gunpoint and tells him to stop his killing spree, he considers shooting himself and therefore dying for her instead of killing. He trudges on still and vows revenge on this woman as his story nears its end. After killing nine-hundred ninety-nine evil souls, he realizes that the last one he must take is his own. He begins hallucinating that his wife is there with him and even holds conversations with her before remembering that she is not there. It is heavily suggested that his lover committed suicide after getting drunk, though the means are unknown. The protagonist finally comes to terms with the fact that he is destined to die and that he would never have been able to resurrect his wife. 

In the final track, “I Never Told You What I Did For a Living”, the man completes his transaction with the devil. He accepts his fall from grace, but knows that once he is with his love again it will all have been worth it. Once he kills the last soul, himself, it is revealed that the devil tricked him. As a result of his astounding body count, he has been damned to hell instead of being reunited with his lover. His final realization is that it was all for nothing and that he has simply become a monster. 

Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge’s final lines are a callback to the group’s first album, I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love, or Bullets for short. Dozens of lines throughout the album reference Bullets, and the lovers featured are even referred to as two “Demolition Lovers”. Initially, fans and critics believed that the two albums were linked as one continuing story, but that theory has been denied. Past its horrific tale, many songs actually send a buried positive message- keep going. Specifically “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” and “Thank You For The Venom” have worked to debunk the band’s stereotype of being a suicide cult. Ironically, these songs have also become symbols of this said suicide cult, given the references to death and self-destruction, which leads many younger listeners to fall prey to this cult mentality that the media has created. That very concept was something that My Chemical Romance vehemently spoke out against, seeing as the very reason they began making music was to help people. Even despite being twisted and forgotten by the media, that is still exactly what they did. Although fame wasn’t what they wanted, in the end they achieved exactly what they wanted: to help people. Their worldwide fame simply allowed them to reach farther and wider than ever imagined. 

As previously stated, all tracks on the album not only tie into the crazy narration of two dead lovers, but into the real lives of the bandmates, specifically Gerard and Mikey way. For example, “The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You” personifies Gerard’s struggle with alcoholism and cocaine addiction in the form of a woman. He says that he could stay with her for hours even though she will eventually kill him. He was able to sober up and toured for Three Cheers during his first full year sober, which he described as extremely difficult. “The Ghost Of You” helps paint the picture of how the brothers were grieving after the loss of their grandmother, Elena.

Elena was one of the most powerful influencers behind the creation of My Chemical Romance and continued to inspire them throughout their entire career. Thanks to her, the band went on to inspire millions of young adults worldwide. Had she not supported her grandchildren like she did, so many more influencers would have never developed the confidence to take their first steps into the sunlight. These influencers include Palaye Royale, Twenty One Pilots, Post Malone, and Yungblud. Who knows how many more celebrities truly are that wouldn’t be where they are without the influential messages of My Chemical Romance? Who knows who the next possible star will be? I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out. Go enjoy yourselves, internet.

“And we'll love again, we'll laugh again We'll cry again, and we'll dance again And it's better off this way, so much better off this way I can't clean the blood off the sheets in my bed!”

#three cheers for sweet revenge #my chemical romance #music

[grifalinas]

All right, so while I wait for my pants to wash let’s get this written up. This is what I’ve been dealing with for the past week and a half, and why I haven’t been on Tumblr much lately + haven’t had much emotional energy for much of anything when I am. With apologies that this is going to get long and I don’t expect everyone to read it, but I need to write it up and put it out there. I’ll try to specify which things are my own personal account and what is second-hand information and what is mere speculation, to avoid sensationalizing.

Before going in, a couple things to know about how Shoe Dept (and Shoe Show in general) employees get paid: we work on commission; there’s a formula for working out the exact balance of wage and commission but it’s easier to think of it as wage or commission, with checks being paid in commission unless you would be making less than minimum wage, at which point they pay you minimum wage and make it subtly clear to you that they don’t feel you’ve earned that difference.

Commission rate is seven percent of total sales, but after ninety days in employment, you take a test to become “cfs certified”, which means you’ve supposedly been trained to use a brannock device and fit shoes as well as get them. Our training amounts to reading a pamphlet and taking a test, but once you have that certification you get nine percent commission on sales of children’s shoes on days you’re acting as cfs. 

This doesn’t sound like much but this adds up over time. It’s the difference between selling a hundred dollars worth of shoes and you get seven dollars of that vs nine dollars- sell a thousand dollars worth of shoes, you get seventy dollars vs ninety dollars; ten thousand in sales, and- well, you get the idea. That two percent makes a big difference if you’re good at what you do.

(If you’re doing the math, yes, this means that we have to average about a hundred and twenty dollars in sales an hour just to make minimum wage, which is easy if we’re busy but not so easy if the store is dead. I’ll get back to this in a minute, so let’s stick a pin in it for now.)

The other thing you need to know is that we were closed for about five weeks in March/April due to the pandemic, and received base wages during that time. After talking to my boss repeatedly about the situation, she finally referenced it as “when they were paying us to sit at home doing nothing”, though I don’t know if that was her words or our dm/rm’s. It does, however, reflect the attitude of the company toward its employees so the exact source feels irrelevant.

So here’s what happened:

In March, just before the shut down, cfs commissions were removed from our wages. We were eventually told this was “temporary” and a response to the pandemic, but even if it was fair to start cutting wages on the bottom where people make the least anyway, we were not informed of this. There was a change made to how the keyholders and store manager got their salaray; I don’t fully understand the change because I don’t fully understand how their pay works (which is different than ours).

Our DM has insisted that he told our store manager about the change, our store manager has said she heard only about the change made to management. I believe her, and even if she is lying, it’s on the dm to produce a paper trail to prove that he informed her. That’s the sort of thing that should be communicated directly from payroll to the employees but even if you must go through the chain of command, it should be sent in official documentation, not mentioned in a phone call that can be easily misunderstood. Therefore, even if the dm DID tell the boss and the boss forgot, it’s still on the DM.

Of course, during the shut down, we were getting “base pay”, which is to say they averaged out our weekly hours (between twenty and thirty-five; my weekly average is usually 29-34 depending on which shifts I work) and paid us minimum wage based on that. This, at least, is somewhat fair; they’re continuing to pay us, and if we’re not getting sales then we don’t get commission. Losing that extra money hurt a lot of us, but the arrangement was at least understandable from that perspective.

So when we came back after the shut down, we were not aware that we had ceased cfs commissions and would not be getting the full amount of our sales that we expected.

Fast forward to a week ago. One of our coworkers was checking on payroll the night before our checks were set to come in, and noticed a huge discrepancy in her expected pay and her received pay. Having brushed off past errors because they were relatively small amounts, she was not going to allow several hundred dollars to go missing from her check without asking some questions. (The amount I was told was four hundred; this was anecdotal, so I don’t know if she was estimating, and if so whether she was rounding up or down. Either way, keep this number in mind.)

Our coworker goes into work that day and raises sand at our boss, who raises sand at payroll, trying to find out what happened and where her money went. The rest of us had also been shorted a lot of money, which you can understand made us very unhappy.

There were about two days where all this was going down that I only know everything through scuttlebutt, as I did not work the same shift as my coworker and boss and had to hear everything second (and third and fourth) hand. What came down to us through the grapevine was that they were taking our hourly wage out of our commission and only paying us beyond that; this was misinformation based on none of us fully understanding the formula that determines how we get paid + one of our keyholders being the sort to sensationalize things to make them sound worse.

However, this was enough to get all of us riled up, and start speculating about leaving the company, if they didn’t want to pay us anymore. (For clarity, this would mean that any time we were working without getting sales would be for free.) I went to bed last Friday night thinking that this had to be a misunderstanding and that I would talk to my boss in the morning before open to find out what exactly was going on, and woke up the next morning knowing that it probably was a misunderstanding but that even so, unless the misunderstanding was “we were trying to pay you more and messed up big time”, I would not be continuing to work at Shoe Dept.

So I went in Saturday morning (my day off) before open to talk to my boss, and got the information straightened out. Essentially, the missing money was due to a payroll error; in all of my discussions with my now-ex boss over the past week I was never able to get a straight answer about what the error was or where it originated. This could very easily be due to my boss not being given that information and just as easily be part of her habit of misdirecting and obfuscating rather than give us straight answers. Either way, all of us were shorted our commission pay for the week, but at the time our coworker noticed the error and started raising sand, corporate insists they were already fixing it, and we did indeed get a second check that week.

We were not informed that this was going on and there was no attempt at communication at any point. Coworker also says that while Boss was on of the phone with Payroll, Payroll asked if Coworker was there and then declined speaking to her when Boss said “Yes she is, would you like to speak with her”. Coworker believes this was due to an intention of giving misinformation to Boss; this is merely speculation and in my case second-hand information, so I cannot say for sure, only that, again, this reflects corporate’s attitude toward its employees.

Now, I would be pretty willing to forgive an error that was fixed if there’d been any transparency. We’re human, even the people at corporate, and mistakes happen. If we’d received a notification through the company app, or even a message through the chain of command, that there was a payroll error but they caught it and were sorting it, just sit tight, we’ll still get our money, apologies for the issue, I would be pretty understanding. Like yeah, sometimes shit happens, thanks for getting it sorted out so promptly.

But there was no transparency. No attempt at communication. They just did it, and then along with not saying anything about it to us and hoping we didn’t notice, tried to obfuscate when our coworker started asking questions. Management insists that it was already being taken care of by the time Coworker noticed, so when Boss and Coworker called Payroll, Payroll should have said “this is what happened, this is the situation as we currently stand, this is what we’re doing to fix it” with no hemming and hawing at any point.

We did get our money though. Well, mostly. Remember that four hundred that Coworker was missing? She got about about two thirty of it. At least part of the discrepancy can be chalked up to the second check being taxed, but that’s almost half of the money gone- doing the math, it added up to less than three hundred that they sent her.

Well, do the math, where did the hundred some odd go?

This is how we found out we weren’t getting cfs commissions anymore.

So for the past few weeks while we’ve been open, we haven’t been getting cfs commissions despite still having a cfs on every shift. When you’re cfs, Boss ensures you’re the only one or at least the main one if we’re too busy that gets children’s sales. The discrepancy was almost accounted for with that in mind, once she and Boss sat down to do the math.

Almost.

Coworker is very insistent that the numbers still don’t add up and, again, I believe her. I can’t prove it, and she offered me nothing but her own accounting, but I still believe her. I worked at Shoe Dept, Encore for going on four years (four years in July) and corporate have always been shady and underhanded in how they deal with their employees. The only reason I stayed as long as I did was that any other retail position would be a lateral move where I got paid less, and I had plans to move to Oregon that involved staying where I was until I saved up enough. But I don’t fuck with people who fuck with my money, so I’ll figure something out.

Some additional information:

I mentioned “hours we work where we don’t get sales” a couple times up there. Part of this was simply hours when the store was dead, often late in the evening or early in the morning. Sales at the latter half of the morning shift and early half of the evening shift could usually be counted on to cover the slower hours so that we still averaged out a hundred twenty in sales per hour, so that part isn’t too much of a bother.

What messes us up are when we have to come in during hours we’re closed in order to run in stock. Policy at the store (I don’t know if this is company wide) is that on Sundays, if the truck (truck comes Tuesday) isn’t completely run into the wall, sales come in Sunday morning at nine (sometimes eight, if we’re very very busy or there’s a lot to do) and run the shoes in until it’s done. If you’re scheduled to be off that day, you still have to come in, and if it’s done by break time (eleven thirty, hour long break, back at twelve thirty, we open at one) you get to go home and enjoy the rest of your day off. If you work that day, you get to stay in the store and work a regular shift on top of the half-shift you just worked.

If the running doesn’t get done, you come back at twelve thirty and keep running until it is, even if that means staying until close (and often, keep running while the shift sales clean up the store, and leave when we do). 

During the shorter hours we worked just after the shut down, we came in Tuesday night at six, put out the entire truck, and started running, and left at eleven. If you were off that day, you worked a five hour shift. If you closed that day, you worked your usual shift plus another five hours. If you opened that day, you were still expected to come back in the evening. And then the next morning, if it wasn’t done, we came in at eight and worked until open. Regardless of our schedule.

This was done this way for two weeks, the third week it was “if you close, you stay till eleven, if you open, you come in at eight”, and by the fourth week we were back to normal hours. “Till eleven” and “eight until” is still in place for anyone on the schedule for that day as of this past Tuesday and Wednesday.

Are you furious yet? You should be, because if you’re paying attention you’ve realized that this was not scheduled into our workweek. We had to do this DURING OUR SCHEDULED TIME OFF. So a Sunday morning running shift was still counted toward your days off for the week, even if you’re working from eight am to seven in the evening with an hour break for lunch (which is usually the case during styling change).

And if you complain? “Get the running done during the week and you won’t have to be here Sunday :)”.

Easy enough, right? Maybe during the slow times when we have little business and the trucks average between a hundred to a hundred and fifty cases, sometimes dipping down as low as seventy or even sixty if we’ve been really slow. During the busy time of year, when we’re already pulling extra hours as is, and doing enough they can justify sending us upwards of two hundred cases, and we’re too busy taking care of customers to even keep the store clean on shift, putting us even later getting home? Even during styling change, when we needlessly flip our stock around to account for seasonal changes even though the store isn’t big enough for the science behind stock placement to have any effect whatsoever and it would make more sense to leave things where the customers and employees are used to looking for them?

Even if it’s a pretty much guarantee, no way out of it, that we’ll have to be there that Sunday, it’s still not planned into our shifts for the week, and during busy times, when we only get one day off a week more often than not, this can mean coming in for ten or eleven hours on your only day off.

:)

Another thing, as long as I’m complaining: sometime last fall I was put in a supervisory position for running in women’s section. This meant that, on top of my usual duties, I was expected to also make executive decisions about how the running was done, ensure that my crew did their work, and make sure any new crew members learned how to do the running properly, since training methods are honestly a joke at Shoe Dept. This was a lot of extra work to put on me, but to be honest I didn’t mind. It was stressful at times, but I actually enjoyed it! The logistic puzzle of getting the shoes in efficiently while asking as little of my crew as possible and making sure they got more Sundays off than they didn’t or at least got to go home at lunchtime if they had to come in, actually ended up helping me keep my brain more in order than before.

BUT. Much as I enjoyed the work, this was effectively a promotion that was not official in any written capacity and did not garner me extra money. It also put me in a position to have to tell my coworkers, my crew, what to do, and, because of the way I approached all of my extra work, it at times appeared to them that I was doing less, which caused a strain between myself and my coworkers at times.

I could go on and on about all the bullshit I’ve had to deal with from Shoe Dept, but honestly it’s going to start descending into pettiness after this and I have to go run errands soon, so I’m going to stop now. This is just a write up of what happened recently re: our payroll, an explanation of why I quit my job without lining up another one first, and hopefully an understandable reason I've elected to keep my blog space free of current events. (Your morality isn’t determined by whether you reblog a tumblr post, but hopefully you can at least understand why my blog space has just been the odd shitpost and reacting to Digimon instead of reblogging things relevant to the world being on fire. I may loosen this now that I have more energy to direct toward vetting posts before reblogging them, though. We’ll see.)

#say it with me folks #FUCK shoe dept and FUCK shoe show incorporated #long post #like extremely long post

[chinesetong-china]

Learn Chinese in Chinese stories｜Chinese legends｜Shennong tested hundred...

Learn Chinese in Chinese stories｜Chinese legends｜Shennong tested hundreds of herbs in person

You may not know Chinese medicine, but you must have heard of artemisinin for malaria. Chinese herbal medicine has a history of several thousand years , there are currently more than 12000 kinds of herbs in China .The mastery of the medicinal properties of most herbs depends on the author's trial in person .《Shennong Herbal Medicine》is the earliest theory of Chinese herbal medicine,it is written by a person called Shennong who tested hundreds herbs in person .

你可能不知道中药，但一定听说过治疗疟疾的青蒿素。中草药有几千年历史，在中国目前有12000多种中草药.对大多数中草药的药性的掌握都是靠作者亲身试药。《神农本草》是最早的中药理论，相传是一个叫神农的人亲身尝试百种草药后写出来的。

 CONTENT

Yuan gu shi hou ,zai nan fang li shan fu jin sheng huo zhe yi ge jiao yan zu de bu luo

远古时候，在南方历山附近生活着一个叫炎族的部落

In ancient times, there was a tribe called Yan lived near the southern Lishan mountains

 Yan zu de ren men kao da lie wei sheng

炎族的人们靠打猎为生

People of the Yan tribe live by hunting

 Da bu dao lie wu jiu e du zi ,sheng bing le ye wu yao ke yi

打不到猎物就饿肚子,生病了也无药可医

People suffered from hungry if didn’t got prey ,and no medicine if got sick

 You yi tian li shan de shi dong li dan sheng le yi ge tou shang zhang zhe jiao de ying er

有一天历山的石洞里诞生了一个头上长着角的婴儿

One day a baby with horns on its head was born in a cave of Lishan Mountain

Ying er chu sheng de shi hou ,shi dong si zhou mao chu jiu yan quan shui

婴儿出生的时候，石洞四周冒出九眼泉水

When the baby was born, there were nine springs spilled out of the cave

 Hou lai zhe ge hai zi cheng le yan zu de shou ling bei zun wei yan di

后来这个孩子成了炎族的首领被尊为炎帝

Later the child became the leader of the Yan clan and was called Emperor Yan

  Yi tian yi zhi hong se de da niao xian lai yi chuan zhong zi fang dao yan di shou li

一天一只红色的大鸟衔来一串种子放到炎帝手里

One day a big red bird put a string of seeds into the hands of Emperor Yan

 Yan di jiang zhong zi zhong dao tu li ,bu duo jiu zhang chu yi pian he miao

炎帝将种子种到土里, 不多久长出一片禾苗

Yan planted the seeds into the soil and soon some rice shoots grew

 He miao cheng shu hou yan di jiang ta zhu shu le qing ren men pin chang

禾苗成熟后炎帝将它煮熟了请人们品尝

When the rice shoot matured, Yan cooked it and asked people to taste

 Ren men fa xian ta ji hao chi you neng tian bao du zi

人们发现它既好吃又能填饱肚子

People found it is delicious and can feed the stomach

 Yu shi yan di jiang zhong zi fen song gei ren men bing jiao hui ren men geng zhong

于是炎帝将种子分送给人们并教会人们耕种

So Yan distributed the seeds and taught people to farm

 Cong ci ren men you le liang shi chi ,zun cheng yan di wei shen nong

从此人们有了粮食吃，尊称炎帝为神农

Since then, people have grains to eat and honored Yan as Shennong

 Dang shi ren men sheng bing le wu yao ke yi

当时人们生病了无药可医

At that time there was no medicine when people got sick

 Shen nong jue ding dao shen shan ye lin qu cai ji yao cai

神农决定到深山野林去采集药材  中草药

Shennong decided to collect medicinal materials from the wide mountains

 Yi tian shen nong fa xian yi zhong lv se de ye zi

一天神农发现一种绿色的叶子

One day Shennong found some green leaves

 Ta jiao le jiao fa xian zhe zhong ye zi neng qing chu ti nei du su

他嚼了嚼发现这种叶子能清除体内的毒素

He chewed and found that the leaves could clear the toxins from body

 Shen nong gei zhe zhong ye zi qu ming wei cha

神农给这种叶子取名为茶

Shennong named the leaf ‘cha’ -- tea

 Mei dang shen nong chang yao zhong du hou ta dou yong cha lai jie du

每当神农尝药中毒后他都用茶来解毒

When Shennong was poisoned for medicine trial ,he used the tea to detoxify

Tong guo qin zi shi chi ,shen nong fa xian le hen duo ke yi zhi bing de yao cai

通过亲自试吃，神农发现了很多可以治病的药材

Through the trial by himself, Shennong found many herbs that can treat illness

 Yi tian shen nong fa xian yi zhong huang se de xiao cao

一天神农发现一种黄色小草

One day Shennong found a yellow grass

 Ta zhai xia ye zi fang jin zui li

他摘下叶子放进嘴里

He took the leaves and put them in his mouth

 Shui zhi zhe shi you ju du de duan chang cao

谁知这是有剧毒的断肠草

That was the highly toxic gelsemium elegan

 Shen nong teng tong nan ren hun dao zai di

神农疼痛难忍昏倒在地

Shen Nong felt terrible pain and fell to the ground

 Dang ren men zhao dao ta de shi hou ,shen nong yi jing si qu le

当人们找到他的时候，神农已经死去了

When people found him, Shennong was dead

 Shen nong shou li jin wo zhe ta dui ge zhong zhi wu yao xing de ji lu ‘shen nong ben cao’神农手里紧握着他对各种植物药性的记录<神农本草>

Shennong held the book <Shennong Herbal Medicine >which recorded the medicinal properties of plants

 Wei le ji nian shen nong ,ren men jiang ta chang bai cao de di fang cheng wei shen nong jia

为了纪念神农，人们将神农尝百草的地方称为神农架

In memory of Shennong, the place where Shennong tested herbs was called Shennongjia

 Shen nong ye bei zun wei nong ye zhi shen he yao wang shen

神农也被尊为农业之神和药王神

Shennong was honored as the god of agriculture and medicine.

  KEYPOINTS

 Nóng

农

nóng yè

农业 agriculture; farming

Nóng mín

农民 peasant ,farmer

Zhōng guó de nóng mín yī bān zhǐ xiǎo nóng huò diàn nóng ,tā men kào zì jǐ hěn shǎo de tǔ dì huò gěi bié rén gēng zhòng tǔ dì móu shēng

中国的农民一般指小农或佃农，他们靠自己很少的土地或给别人耕种土地谋生。

In China ,’nong min 农民’generally refer to small-peasant or tenants , who earn a living on their own little land or farming for others

 Jǐ qiān nián lái ,zhōng guó dà duō shù rén kǒu dōu shì nóng mín .zhí dào jìn jǐ shí nián suí zhe gōng yè huà hé dà liàng nóng mín jìn chéng ,zhè zhǒng rén kǒu jié gòu cái fā shēng gǎi biàn

几千年来，中国大多数人口都是农民。直到近几十年随着工业化和大量农民进城，这种人口结构才发生改变。

For thousands of years, most people in China are peasants. Until recent decades this demographic structure changed with industrialization and large numbers of peasants entering cities

 Zài zhè zhǒng shēng chǎn fāng shì shàng chǎn shēng de nóng gēng wén míng kě yǐ zuò wéi lǐ jiě zhōng guó de yí gè shì jiǎo

在这种生产方式上产生的农耕文明可以作为理解中国的一个视角

The Agricultural civilization produced in this mode of production can be used as a perspective to understand China

 Zhǒng  zhòng

种

Zhǒng zi

种子  seed;

Gēng Zhòng

耕种 plough and sow; work on the farm;

 Liáng shí

粮食 staple food; principal food

Dào gǔ

稻谷 rice (mainly in south)

Xiǎo mài

小麦 wheat (mainly in north)

Wǔ gǔ

五谷  the five cereals: rice, millet, millet, wheat, beans

Wǔ gǔ fēng dēng

五谷丰登  an abundant harvest of all crops

 Yào

药 medicine; drug; chemicals

cǎo yào

草药 medicinal herb

 Zhōng guó shì cǎo yào de fā yuán dì ,mù qián zhōng guó dà yvē yǒu yī wàn èr qiān zhǒng cǎo yào

中国是草药的发源地,目前中国大约有12000种草药。

China is the birthplace of medicinal herbs. At present, there are about 12000 kinds of herbs in China.

 Zhōng yào yóu cǎo yào ,dòng wù yào ,kuàng wù yào gòu chéng,cǎo yào zhàn le dà duō shù

中药由草药，动物药，矿物药构成，草药占了大多数。

Traditional Chinese medicine is made up of herbs, animal medicine and mineral medicine, and herbal medicine accounts for the majority.

 Chá

茶 tea plant; tea;

Chá yè

茶叶 tea; tea-leaves  

Gēn jù fā jiào chéng dù bù tóng ,chá yè fēn wéi hóng chá ,huáng chá ,bái chá ,lǜ chá děng根据发酵程度不同，茶叶分为红茶,黄茶, 白茶,绿茶等

According to the degree of fermentation, tea is divided into black tea, yellow tea,white tea, green tea, etc.

.......

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[our-jensen-ackles-love]

Wicked Games; 4

Jensen x Reader

Summary: He was poison.  She was the whiskey.  They were wrong.  But then again they were so right. 

Word Count: 1922

Rating: 18+

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF ABUSE.

Author’s Note: This chapter is just the tip of the icebergs by friends, so please read all warnings ahead of time. Also, I’m so sorry for the delay. Updates will probably continue to be weekly - maybe, two times a week if I’ve lucky.

FEEDBACK  Buy me Ko-Fi  Masterlist  Series Masterlist  AO3

THREE 

His question echoed off the silence of the little kitchenette they were having a staring contest within. The woman standing in front of Jensen was not where he was used to finding her. Fully clothed and looking like she belonged more in an office than a women’s shelter; was the very last place he ever imaged bumping into her. 

“Daisy?” He asked again as her face paled and she stole a quick glance behind him at the open door. He could hear Jared and Misha laughing about something as they made their way over to the office with the manager in tow. “What are you doing here?” 

It was an inappropriate question, considering where they were, but it just kind of slipped out with no warning. 

“Uhm,” she looked down at her hand, absently stroking where a nice dark stain was settling in. “I work here.” 

“No you don’t,” he stated with a head shake, eyes continually boring into her. 

She scoffed, opening her mouth to retort when he could sense some standing in the doorway behind him. “Y/N?” 

It was the manager, Kris, probably checking in on why it was taking so long just to grab a small cup of coffee. He wasn’t expecting to run into anyone on his path to caffeine, but it looked like the universe had different plans. Jensen watched as her shoulders slouched at the reveal of her actual name, not the one that she preferred to go by in the late hours of the night. 

“Yeah?” 

He didn’t have to turn to know that they were sharing a look. The dismissive gleam in her eye was a dead giveaway as she stared heavily at the woman behind him. “Uhm,” he felt the sideways look she probably gave his back. “We’re ready.” 

Y/N’s eyes darted to him briefly. “Okay, be right there in a sec.” 

The two of them stared at each other as Kris’s footsteps dwindled away towards where her office was located. Jensen watched as Y/N stood, shifting her weight evenly, unsure of what to say. Despite the fact that she looked more like a normal nine to five kind of girl, he couldn’t ignore that fact that she looked just a stunning as she did when he watched the way she moved for him at night. 

“We should probably join them.”

Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, a place he seemed to be living in a lot more these days, and right now it was imagining her from just the other night. It was not making this encounter any better. “I was going to grab some coffee first.” 

Y/N tilted her head to the side, lips curving ever so slightly. “Why? I don’t recall seeing you out last night, so you must have a different reason for being tired.” 

Was she teasing him? Now it was his turn to feel his face pale at her question. Somehow, he felt guilty, like the fact that he went home to his wife last night, something he had promised he would do, instead of putting down money to drown his sorrows in her skin was a sin. 

“Let’s just say I had plans.” 

Jensen noticed the way her lips pursed at his words, tugging the corners a little too tight at what he could safely assume was a forced smile. “Well, I’m glad.” 

She turned towards the counter again, letting out a huff of air while she vigorously scrubbed at the stain on her front. He couldn’t help the way his eyes roamed up the back of her body, settling in on the way her ass curved just the right way in that pencil skirt. A soft shake of his head reminded him that this wasn’t the place for those kinds of thoughts. 

“You’re doing it wrong.” 

“Excuse me?” He didn’t need her to turn around to know that there was a glare being shot into the sink. 

“You need some club soda or something along those lines,” he took a small step in her direction before stealing a glance fridge to his right and deciding that the chances of club soda being stocked in there would be slim. “But really your best bet would be to get it washed right away.” 

Her shoulders sagged and he heard her throw the washcloth down in the shallow sink. “Yeah, well I can’t exactly do that right now, can I?” 

Now it was his turn to shift a little bit uncomfortable, she was clearly agitated by something, but he was having a hard time deciding if it was from him being there or because she had ruined her shirt. Something in his gut told him that he better not ask. 

“So, um,” Jensen ran a hand through his somewhat mess of hair. “I guess we should head back over there now.” 

“Suppose so.” 

He watched as she took another breath, this time squaring her shoulders before turning to face him. A couple steps forward and she was eye level in those heels, boring into his with an intensity he hadn’t seen before. “And in there, you don’t know me. This is our first time meeting, any mention of the name Daisy will be completely ignored. Understand?” 

She didn’t give him a moment to respond but instead pushed her way past him and into the doorway. Her head was still held high as he took the moment to collect his thoughts, watching her practically march her way into Kris’s office. The moment was paused, stuck on repeat in his mind while he made the decision to still grab that coffee he had told everyone he was going to get. 

When he finally made his way into the office, he caught the tail end of what he assumed was Y/N’s way of explaining the ugly stain on her front. “Looks like I might have to just wash my shirt here before heading out,” she smiled, eyes glancing over towards him briefly. 

“I have a spare shirt in the car,” Jensen blurted suddenly, everyone shifting their attention towards him in the doorway. “I mean, that is if you don’t want to wait until later.”

She eyed him questionably. “Uhm, thanks, but I think I’ll be okay.” 

Deciding to just shrug, Jensen took the empty seat next to Jared, but directly in front to the girl that had his head all in a spiral. He settled in, tipping his full cup of coffee in her direction with a smirk before turning his attention to Misha and Kris. This was all part of Misha’s baby and he and Jared were just along for the ride. 

“So,” Misha leaned forward, that excited smile of his brightening up the whole room. “As you know, you’ve been chosen as our charity for Random Acts, but as we move forward with prepping everything, we would love to know a little more about what you do here at the shelter and what got you started in the first place.” 

Kris offered back a similar grin to the man before her. “Well, it’s a bit of a long story. But one that I might need a little bit of permission before telling.” 

“Permission?” 

Kris leaned back in her chair and stole a glance at the woman behind her. “Y/N?” 

There was a shrug and a small nod as she tried to shrink herself even more into the background. It was completely out of character to what Jensen was used too. Kris turned her attention back towards the men before her, this time her expression was much soberer. 

“To be honest, I started this shelter because my best friend was in an abusive marriage and needed an out. She had literally nothing to her name, he had stripped everything from her - made her quit her job, put all their money in an account only he had access to and at one point even put a tracker on her cellphone just because she wanted to go out for drinks to celebrate me getting a promotion.”

All of us had our eyes trained on Kris, but Jensen couldn’t help noticing the way that Y/N literally seemed to be shrinking against the wall. It was making his stomach churn. Still, Kris went on, “One night, she said she would call and she never did.” 

There was silence now. He could feel the way that each of them were holding their breath, hoping that there was more to the story than she was leading on. Jared was the first one to break what felt like the never-ending silence. “Did, uh, did something happen?” 

Kris had looked down, studying her hands like there was something stuck to them, but when she looked up there were tears in her eyes. “He, uh,” she took a shaky breath and gave an apology at the wave of emotion that had clearly overcome her. “The asshole beat her within an inch of her life and then left her there to die.” 

Y/N was in front of him and then suddenly she wasn’t. In the blink of an eye, she had managed to race out the door and towards the front of the building, slamming the heavy glass door behind her. Something in Jensen told him he needed to follow her, despite the fact that she had told him they didn’t know each other outside of this room - he needed to make sure she was okay. 

With no explanation, he followed hot on her trail. He knew that there would be some questions later, but he would deal with it when the time came. 

The cool air hit him hard as he blinked at the sting it brought with it. “Y/N.” 

She was standing in front of him, teetering cautiously close to the edge of the curb. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her chest, protecting her from the cold and whatever seemed to be running through her mind. 

“Why are you here?” She asked just above a whisper, that almost got lost in the whoosh of the wind. “Why did you follow me?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

She spun, her make-up smudged and running down her face when she faced him. All traces of the confident woman he was slowly getting to know were gone. Out here she was raw and she was broken. She was real. And damn it, he wanted to fix her. 

“I’m not okay. I’ll never be okay.” She stepped away from the curb only to begin a wobbly stride back and forth in front of him. “That girl in there, that’s me. That story Kris is telling, it’s about me. I am the reason that my best friend is several hundred thousand dollars in debt.” 

“Y/N,” he started. 

“No. You don’t understand,” she spun on her heel again. “You see me like this woman who doesn’t have have a problem getting naked for men. You probably think with a profession like that, it’s no wonder I got my ass handed to me by my husband. You see me as the woman who gets you through the night when you don’t want to go home to your wife.” 

She paused, taking a deep breath. “You know pieces of me and I don’t even know you.” 

He took a dare, doing something he probably shouldn’t. Jensen reached forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body as close to him as he could, halting her movements. “It’s Jensen.” 

--

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[smartmouthscientist]

T.R.A.I.N.

In my Psychology 101 class, we were assigned to bring an item that reminds us of our childhoods. Meeting time came and I had nothing to show, but fortunately, my seatmate had brought a book, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, the UK edition with the cover showing Harry and the Hogwarts Express. In an inspired fit, I thickened my face and asked to borrow her book right after she finished as it was my turn next. Having made the prior confession to the class bashfully, by way of introduction, that since I live in Bicol and stayed in a dormitory, I couldn’t afford to lug around stuff purely out of sentimental value, I then began to talk about the train on the cover. (I hoped the class would appreciate the joke and my clutch whimsy, as I’m really proud of pulling that one off.)

I told them that a train set was the first toy I ever loved. As birthdays and holidays rolled around, I would invariably ask for another train set on my wish list. In my grandparents’ house, nestled among the encyclopedia volume collection, was a book dedicated to mass transport, and the section on trains was the one I pored over most. I marveled at the sheer length of the trains in the pictures and daydreamed of riding the Japanese bullet train. To wrap up, I rather wistfully said to the class that now I couldn’t help riding the MRT and LRTs without a tinge of nostalgia, lamenting the state of mass transport in Metro Manila and the collision of reality into boyhood fantasies.

However, I had neglected to narrate to them the most meaningful detail, and this I still very much regret and now seek to assuage somewhat by writing it down. That same grandparents’ house was my father’s family home—along the riles. When we were packed off there for the weekend, one of my favorite parts was hearing the authoritative blast of the horn pierce the air, and the staccato rumbling on the tracks growing nearer and nearer. My sisters and I would rush out, and with almost deep reverence, carefully keeping our distance, watch the length of that great steel beast lumber along. I knew even then that these trains were Japanese hand-me-downs, of post–World War II to pre–Martial Law provenance, but their patina of reliability was undiminished.

The Bicol Express was also my maternal grandparents’ favored mode of transportation, whenever we would venture out into Metro Manila. How pleasing it was, to sit there on the train knowing the risk of a traffic accident had been minimized, knowing we could not but get to our destination, counting down the hours, counting on the train to get us there like clockwork. Standing in the city streets, the LRT’s flickering window lights was as glamorous to me as the flash of high-rises and neon.

The last long-distance train trip I took was in December 2011. Mama took us kids on a Christmas vacation to Manila, while Papa opted to stay behind. On the trip back home to Bicol, our train stopped dead in its tracks. We could hear the conductors shouting instructions to each other, all the while conversing about how the man must have been stone-cold drunk to be lying on the tracks like that. They said he had lost his head, sliced off cleanly on the rail. Though delayed, we got home safely. Papa was just as happy to see us back as we were to see him again. He had missed us, though he wouldn’t say it; he had not joined us out of a tantrum, because he and Mama had fought before we left.

Less than two months later, on 9 January 2012, Papa decided against taking his motorcycle to work on account of the rain and because he knew that he would be drinking at a friend’s birthday party. Papa was a cheap date, and when he was positively tipsy, his police officer friend insisted on hitching him to the back of the police officer’s motorcycle to take him home from the provincial capitol, where Papa worked as a sheriff for the regional trial court. Even when he had imbibed, Papa was always a careful driver: sometimes he would pull over at a waiting shed or under a tree on the side of the road to doze off the hangover. But on that day, Papa was the back-rider who got thrown off the motorcycle and ran over by a bus in a freak accident on the national highway, only two hundred meters away from our house. The regional trial court recently dismissed our civil claim for damages against the bus company and the motion for reconsideration, more than seven years to the day. In the course of that protracted litigation, the bus driver was debilitated by a stroke and has had to stop working.

We still get shipped off to Mama Lola’s railroad-side house occasionally, but the trains no longer pass by regularly. The trains finally showed their age and could no longer take care not to derail on the equally rusted tracks. The renovation and modernization of the train lines proceed in fits and starts; the train we rode in 2011 was the first time the Bicol Express had reopened in years, before they suspended commuter trips again. The daily agony of commuters on the MRT and LRT is well-documented, but not any less rueful for it. The months in which the MRT doesn’t suffer a breakdown at all on any given day are far and few between, and closely remarked upon and tallied by the media. Just last month, the LRT2—my favorite line for being the most capacious, underriden, and newest of the three—had an electrical mishap which crippled the Katipunan station, to exasperation from me and other university students that it services, and the two stations sandwiching it. The estimated time for repairs was initially a frustrating nine months, whittled down to an impatient three. Rodrigo Duterte’s ambitious “Build, Build, Build” infrastructure project is secured by Chinese capital—which also fuels China’s massive infrastructure expansion in the disputed West Philippine Sea—and ultimately premised on the Omelasian death of thousands in the drug war, the election promise which catapulted Duterte into the presidency.

The old canard about Benito Mussolini’s fascist Italy was that he made the trains run on time. How much worse can a life under Philippine fascism be when the trains no longer run at all?

[draculalive]

Dr. Seward's Diary.

26 September. -- Truly there is no such thing as finality. Not a week since I said "Finis," and yet here I am starting fresh again, or rather going on with the same record. Until this afternoon I had no cause to think of what is done. Renfield had become, to all intents, as sane as he ever was. He was already well ahead with his fly business; and he had just started in the spider line also; so he had not been of any trouble to me. I had a letter from Arthur, written on Sunday, and from it I gather that he is bearing up wonderfully well. Quincey Morris is with him, and that is much of a help, for he himself is a bubbling well of good spirits. Quincey wrote me a line too, and from him I hear that Arthur is beginning to recover something of his old buoyancy; so as to them all my mind is at rest. As for myself, I was settling down to my work with the enthusiasm which I used to have for it, so that I might fairly have said that the wound which poor Lucy left on me was becoming cicatrised. Everything is, however, now reopened; and what is to be the end God only knows. I have an idea that Van Helsing thinks he knows, too, but he will only let out enough at a time to whet curiosity. He went to Exeter yesterday, and stayed there all night. To-day he came back, and almost bounded into the room at about half-past five o’clock, and thrust last night's "Westminster Gazette" into my hand.

"What do you think of that?" he asked as he stood back and folded his arms.

I looked over the paper, for I really did not know what he meant; but he took it from me and pointed out a paragraph about children being decoyed away at Hampstead. It did not convey much to me, until I reached a passage where it described small punctured wounds on their throats. An idea struck me, and I looked up. "Well?" he said.

"It is like poor Lucy's."

"And what do you make of it?"

"Simply that there is some cause in common. Whatever it was that injured her has injured them." I did not quite understand his answer:---

"That is true indirectly, but not directly."

"How do you mean, Professor?" I asked. I was a little inclined to take his seriousness lightly -- for, after all, four days of rest and freedom from burning, harrowing anxiety does help to restore one's spirits -- but when I saw his face, it sobered me. Never, even in the midst of our despair about poor Lucy, had he looked more stern.

"Tell me!" I said. "I can hazard no opinion. I do not know what to think, and I have no data on which to found a conjecture."

"Do you mean to tell me, friend John, that you have no suspicion as to what poor Lucy died of; not after all the hints given, not only by events, but by me?"

"Of nervous prostration following on great loss or waste of blood."

"And how the blood lost or waste?" I shook my head. He stepped over and sat down beside me, and went on:---

"You are clever man, friend John; you reason well, and your wit is bold; but you are too prejudiced. You do not let your eyes see nor your ears hear, and that which is outside your daily life is not of account to you. Do you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, and yet which are; that some people see things that others cannot? But there are things old and new which must not be contemplate by men's eyes, because they know -- or think they know -- some things which other men have told them. Ah, it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all; and if it explain not, then it says there is nothing to explain. But yet we see around us every day the growth of new beliefs, which think themselves new; and which are yet but the old, which pretend to be young -- like the fine ladies at the opera. I suppose now you do not believe in corporeal transference. No? Nor in materialisation. No? Nor in astral bodies. No? Nor in the reading of thought. No? Nor in hypnotism -- -- "

"Yes," I said. "Charcot has proved that pretty well." He smiled as he went on: "Then you are satisfied as to it. Yes? And of course then you understand how it act, and can follow the mind of the great Charcot -- alas that he is no more! -- into the very soul of the patient that he influence. No? Then, friend John, am I to take it that you simply accept fact, and are satisfied to let from premise to conclusion be a blank? No? Then tell me -- for I am student of the brain -- how you accept the hypnotism and reject the thought reading. Let me tell you, my friend, that there are things done to-day in electrical science which would have been deemed unholy by the very men who discovered electricity -- who would themselves not so long before have been burned as wizards. There are always mysteries in life. Why was it that Methuselah lived nine hundred years, and 'Old Parr' one hundred and sixty-nine, and yet that poor Lucy, with four men's blood in her poor veins, could not live even one day? For, had she live one more day, we could have save her. Do you know all the mystery of life and death? Do you know the altogether of comparative anatomy and can say wherefore the qualities of brutes are in some men, and not in others? Can you tell me why, when other spiders die small and soon, that one great spider lived for centuries in the tower of the old Spanish church and grew and grew, till, on descending, he could drink the oil of all the church lamps? Can you tell me why in the Pampas, ay and elsewhere, there are bats that come at night and open the veins of cattle and horses and suck dry their veins; how in some islands of the Western seas there are bats which hang on the trees all day, and those who have seen describe as like giant nuts or pods, and that when the sailors sleep on the deck, because that it is hot, flit down on them, and then -- and then in the morning are found dead men, white as even Miss Lucy was?"

"Good God, Professor!" I said, starting up. "Do you mean to tell me that Lucy was bitten by such a bat; and that such a thing is here in London in the nineteenth century?" He waved his hand for silence, and went on:---

"Can you tell me why the tortoise lives more long than generations of men; why the elephant goes on and on till he have seen dynasties; and why the parrot never die only of bite of cat or dog or other complaint? Can you tell me why men believe in all ages and places that there are some few who live on always if they be permit; that there are men and women who cannot die? We all know -- because science has vouched for the fact -- that there have been toads shut up in rocks for thousands of years, shut in one so small hole that only hold him since the youth of the world. Can you tell me how the Indian fakir can make himself to die and have been buried, and his grave sealed and corn sowed on it, and the corn reaped and be cut and sown and reaped and cut again, and then men come and take away the unbroken seal and that there lie the Indian fakir, not dead, but that rise up and walk amongst them as before?" Here I interrupted him. I was getting bewildered; he so crowded on my mind his list of nature's eccentricities and possible impossibilities that my imagination was getting fired. I had a dim idea that he was teaching me some lesson, as long ago he used to do in his study at Amsterdam; but he used then to tell me the thing, so that I could have the object of thought in mind all the time. But now I was without this help, yet I wanted to follow him, so I said:---

"Professor, let me be your pet student again. Tell me the thesis, so that I may apply your knowledge as you go on. At present I am going in my mind from point to point as a mad man, and not a sane one, follows an idea. I feel like a novice lumbering through a bog in a mist, jumping from one tussock to another in the mere blind effort to move on without knowing where I am going."

"That is good image," he said. "Well, I shall tell you. My thesis is this: I want you to believe."

"To believe what?"

"To believe in things that you cannot. Let me illustrate. I heard once of an American who so defined faith: ‘that faculty which enables us to believe things which we know to be untrue.’ For one, I follow that man. He meant that we shall have an open mind, and not let a little bit of truth check the rush of a big truth, like a small rock does a railway truck. We get the small truth first. Good! We keep him, and we value him; but all the same we must not let him think himself all the truth in the universe."

"Then you want me not to let some previous conviction injure the receptivity of my mind with regard to some strange matter. Do I read your lesson aright?"

"Ah, you are my favourite pupil still. It is worth to teach you. Now that you are willing to understand, you have taken the first step to understand. You think then that those so small holes in the children's throats were made by the same that made the hole in Miss Lucy?"

"I suppose so." He stood up and said solemnly:---

"Then you are wrong. Oh, would it were so! but alas! no. It is worse, far, far worse."

"In God's name, Professor Van Helsing, what do you mean?" I cried.

He threw himself with a despairing gesture into a chair, and placed his elbows on the table, covering his face with his hands as he spoke:---

"They were made by Miss Lucy!"

For a while sheer anger mastered me; it was as if he had during her life struck Lucy on the face. I smote the table hard and rose up as I said to him:---

"Dr. Van Helsing, are you mad?" He raised his head and looked at me, and somehow the tenderness of his face calmed me at once. "Would I were!" he said. "Madness were easy to bear compared with truth like this. Oh, my friend, why, think you, did I go so far round, why take so long to tell you so simple a thing? Was it because I hate you and have hated you all my life? Was it because I wished to give you pain? Was it that I wanted, now so late, revenge for that time when you saved my life, and from a fearful death? Ah no!"

"Forgive me," said I. He went on:---

"My friend, it was because I wished to be gentle in the breaking to you, for I know you have loved that so sweet lady. But even yet I do not expect you to believe. It is so hard to accept at once any abstract truth, that we may doubt such to be possible when we have always believed the 'no' of it; it is more hard still to accept so sad a concrete truth, and of such a one as Miss Lucy. To-night I go to prove it. Dare you come with me?"

This staggered me. A man does not like to prove such a truth; Byron excepted from the category, jealousy.

"And prove the very truth he most abhorred." He saw my hesitation, and spoke:---

"The logic is simple, no madman's logic this time, jumping from tussock to tussock in a misty bog. If it be not true, then proof will be relief; at worst it will not harm. If it be true! Ah, there is the dread; yet very dread should help my cause, for in it is some need of belief. Come, I tell you what I propose: first, that we go off now and see that child in the hospital. Dr. Vincent, of the North Hospital, where the papers say the child is, is friend of mine, and I think of yours since you were in class at Amsterdam. He will let two scientists see his case, if he will not let two friends. We shall tell him nothing, but only that we wish to learn. And then -- -- "

"And then?" He took a key from his pocket and held it up. "And then we spend the night, you and I, in the churchyard where Lucy lies. This is the key that lock the tomb. I had it from the coffin-man to give to Arthur." My heart sank within me, for I felt that there was some fearful ordeal before us. I could do nothing, however, so I plucked up what heart I could and said that we had better hasten, as the afternoon was passing...

We found the child awake. It had had a sleep and taken some food, and altogether was going on well. Dr. Vincent took the bandage from its throat, and showed us the punctures. There was no mistaking the similarity to those which had been on Lucy's throat. They were smaller, and the edges looked fresher; that was all. We asked Vincent to what he attributed them, and he replied that it must have been a bite of some animal, perhaps a rat; but, for his own part, he was inclined to think that it was one of the bats which are so numerous on the northern heights of London. "Out of so many harmless ones," he said, "there may be some wild specimen from the South of a more malignant species. Some sailor may have brought one home, and it managed to escape; or even from the Zoölogical Gardens a young one may have got loose, or one be bred there from a vampire. These things do occur, you know. Only ten days ago a wolf got out, and was, I believe, traced up in this direction. For a week after, the children were playing nothing but Red Riding Hood on the Heath and in every alley in the place until this ‘bloofer lady’ scare came along, since when it has been quite a gala-time with them. Even this poor little mite, when he woke up to-day, asked the nurse if he might go away. When she asked him why he wanted to go, he said he wanted to play with the ‘bloofer lady.’”

"I hope," said Van Helsing, "that when you are sending the child home you will caution its parents to keep strict watch over it. These fancies to stray are most dangerous; and if the child were to remain out another night, it would probably be fatal. But in any case I suppose you will not let it away for some days?"

"Certainly not, not for a week at least; longer if the wound is not healed."

Our visit to the hospital took more time than we had reckoned on, and the sun had dipped before we came out. When Van Helsing saw how dark it was, he said:---

"There is no hurry. It is more late than I thought. Come, let us seek somewhere that we may eat, and then we shall go on our way."

We dined at "Jack Straw's Castle" along with a little crowd of bicyclists and others who were genially noisy. About ten o’clock we started from the inn. It was then very dark, and the scattered lamps made the darkness greater when we were once outside their individual radius. The Professor had evidently noted the road we were to go, for he went on unhesitatingly; but, as for me, I was in quite a mixup as to locality. As we went further, we met fewer and fewer people, till at last we were somewhat surprised when we met even the patrol of horse police going their usual suburban round. At last we reached the wall of the churchyard, which we climbed over. With some little difficulty -- for it was very dark, and the whole place seemed so strange to us -- we found the Westenra tomb. The Professor took the key, opened the creaky door, and standing back, politely, but quite unconsciously, motioned me to precede him. There was a delicious irony in the offer, in the courtliness of giving preference on such a ghastly occasion. My companion followed me quickly, and cautiously drew the door to, after carefully ascertaining that the lock was a falling, and not a spring, one. In the latter case we should have been in a bad plight. Then he fumbled in his bag, and taking out a matchbox and a piece of candle, proceeded to make a light. The tomb in the day-time, and when wreathed with fresh flowers, had looked grim and gruesome enough; but now, some days afterwards, when the flowers hung lank and dead, their whites turning to rust and their greens to browns; when the spider and the beetle had resumed their accustomed dominance; when time-discoloured stone, and dust-encrusted mortar, and rusty, dank iron, and tarnished brass, and clouded silver-plating gave back the feeble glimmer of a candle, the effect was more miserable and sordid than could have been imagined. It conveyed irresistibly the idea that life -- animal life -- was not the only thing which could pass away.

Van Helsing went about his work systematically. Holding his candle so that he could read the coffin plates, and so holding it that the sperm dropped in white patches which congealed as they touched the metal, he made assurance of Lucy's coffin. Another search in his bag, and he took out a turnscrew.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"To open the coffin. You shall yet be convinced." Straightway he began taking out the screws, and finally lifted off the lid, showing the casing of lead beneath. The sight was almost too much for me. It seemed to be as much an affront to the dead as it would have been to have stripped off her clothing in her sleep whilst living; I actually took hold of his hand to stop him. He only said: "You shall see," and again fumbling in his bag, took out a tiny fret-saw. Striking the turnscrew through the lead with a swift downward stab, which made me wince, he made a small hole, which was, however, big enough to admit the point of the saw. I had expected a rush of gas from the week-old corpse. We doctors, who have had to study our dangers, have to become accustomed to such things, and I drew back towards the door. But the Professor never stopped for a moment; he sawed down a couple of feet along one side of the lead coffin, and then across, and down the other side. Taking the edge of the loose flange, he bent it back towards the foot of the coffin, and holding up the candle into the aperture, motioned to me to look.

I drew near and looked. The coffin was empty.

It was certainly a surprise to me, and gave me a considerable shock, but Van Helsing was unmoved. He was now more sure than ever of his ground, and so emboldened to proceed in his task. "Are you satisfied now, friend John?" he asked.

I felt all the dogged argumentativeness of my nature awake within me as I answered him:---

"I am satisfied that Lucy's body is not in that coffin; but that only proves one thing."

"And what is that, friend John?"

"That it is not there."

"That is good logic," he said, "so far as it goes. But how do you -- how can you -- account for it not being there?"

"Perhaps a body-snatcher," I suggested. "Some of the undertaker's people may have stolen it." I felt that I was speaking folly, and yet it was the only real cause which I could suggest. The Professor sighed. "Ah well!" he said, "we must have more proof. Come with me."

He put on the coffin-lid again, gathered up all his things and placed them in the bag, blew out the light, and placed the candle also in the bag. We opened the door, and went out. Behind us he closed the door and locked it. He handed me the key, saying: "Will you keep it? You had better be assured." I laughed -- it was not a very cheerful laugh, I am bound to say -- as I motioned him to keep it. "A key is nothing," I said; "there may be duplicates; and anyhow it is not difficult to pick a lock of that kind." He said nothing, but put the key in his pocket. Then he told me to watch at one side of the churchyard whilst he would watch at the other. I took up my place behind a yew-tree, and I saw his dark figure move until the intervening headstones and trees hid it from my sight.

It was a lonely vigil. Just after I had taken my place I heard a distant clock strike twelve, and in time came one and two. I was chilled and unnerved, and angry with the Professor for taking me on such an errand and with myself for coming. I was too cold and too sleepy to be keenly observant, and not sleepy enough to betray my trust so altogether I had a dreary, miserable time.

Suddenly, as I turned round, I thought I saw something like a white streak, moving between two dark yew-trees at the side of the churchyard farthest from the tomb; at the same time a dark mass moved from the Professor's side of the ground, and hurriedly went towards it. Then I too moved; but I had to go round headstones and railed-off tombs, and I stumbled over graves. The sky was overcast, and somewhere far off an early cock crew. A little way off, beyond a line of scattered juniper-trees, which marked the pathway to the church, a white, dim figure flitted in the direction of the tomb. The tomb itself was hidden by trees, and I could not see where the figure disappeared. I heard the rustle of actual movement where I had first seen the white figure, and coming over, found the Professor holding in his arms a tiny child. When he saw me he held it out to me, and said:---

"Are you satisfied now?"

"No," I said, in a way that I felt was aggressive.

"Do you not see the child?"

"Yes, it is a child, but who brought it here? And is it wounded?" I asked.

"We shall see," said the Professor, and with one impulse we took our way out of the churchyard, he carrying the sleeping child.

When we had got some little distance away, we went into a clump of trees, and struck a match, and looked at the child's throat. It was without a scratch or scar of any kind.

"Was I right?" I asked triumphantly.

"We were just in time," said the Professor thankfully.

We had now to decide what we were to do with the child, and so consulted about it. If we were to take it to a police-station we should have to give some account of our movements during the night; at least, we should have had to make some statement as to how we had come to find the child. So finally we decided that we would take it to the Heath, and when we heard a policeman coming, would leave it where he could not fail to find it; we would then seek our way home as quickly as we could. All fell out well. At the edge of Hampstead Heath we heard a policeman's heavy tramp, and laying the child on the pathway, we waited and watched until he saw it as he flashed his lantern to and fro. We heard his exclamation of astonishment, and then we went away silently. By good chance we got a cab near the "Spaniards," and drove to town.

I cannot sleep, so I make this entry. But I must try to get a few hours' sleep, as Van Helsing is to call for me at noon. He insists that I shall go with him on another expedition.

#dracula #draculalive #vampires

[olivia-longueville]

Coronation of Anne Boleyn

Anne Boleyn emerged from the Tower of London at 5pm on Saturday the 31st of May 1535.  She had spent the previous days in the queen’s chambers in the Tower.  According to contemporary sources, the last day of spring was bright and warm, and the sky was an unbroken azure, spreading out above Anne in a serene canopy.  It must have seemed to her that nature itself foreshadowed her success as the soon to be Queen of England and Henry VIII’s wife.

Anne was dressed in the French fashion.  The coronation procession from the Tower was en-route for Westminster.  It was headed by twelve servants of the new French ambassador to England – Jean de Dinteville, who was King François I’s maître d’hôtel.  This illustrates Anne’s pro-French preferences, which her numerous foes considered unpatriotic, calling her a Frenchwoman.  This, nevertheless, was true in many aspects because Anne loved France, French culture and fashions.

Then appeared the gentlemen of the royal household, who were by tradition the eyes and ears of the reigning monarch whom they served.  Next came the nine judges clad in their scarlet gowns and hoods, followed by the Knights of the Bath.  Then moved the state council, the ecclesiastical magnates, and the peers of the realm.  At last, behind them emerged the queen’s fabulous litter.

Eric Ives describes Anne’s appearance and her attire:

“She {Anne} was dressed in filmy white, with a coronet of gold.  The litter was of white satin, with ‘white cloth of gold’ inside and out, and its two palfreys were clothed to the ground in white damask. In ravishing contrast was the queen’s dark hair, flowing loose, down to her waist.  Over her was a canopy of cloth of gold held up by the barons of the Cinque Ports.  Then came her own palfrey, also trapped in white.  Twelve ladies in crimson velvet rode behind.”

Several more riders and carriages, as well as thirty gentlewomen on horseback, each of them richly attired, were followed by the king’s guard in two files, one on both sides of the street.  All of the servants in the livery of their masters or mistresses were at the end of the long procession.  Most definitely, many of them did not support Anne and viewed her as the usurper of Catherine’s place in the king’s affections, but they participated in the coronation out of duty and fear, for they would find themselves on the receiving end of the king’s wrath.  And Anne was truly magnificent!

Observers reported that some notable people were missing in the cortege.  Neither the king’s sister, Princess Mary Tudor, nor her daughter, Frances, was present, nor Lady Elizabeth Stafford, Duchess of Norfolk.  Anne’s step-grandmother – Agnes Howard née Tilney, Dowager Duchess of Norfolk – rode in one of the carriages, along with either Anne’s mother, Lady Elizabeth Boleyn, Countess of Wiltshire, or Margaret Wotton, Dowager Marchioness of Dorset.  However, the absences of the king’s sister and her daughter, Frances, can be easily discounted: Princess Mary Tudor had suffered from consummation for months and was very ill at the time of the coronation, while her daughter was barely out of childhood.  The Duchess of Norfolk could have chosen to stay away from her ruthless husband, from whom she had separated in 1534 after their notorious quarrel.  Thomas More, another doubter, was also missing, as he deliberately refused to attend.

For the inhabitants of London, this was their first glimpse of the scandalous, extraordinary woman who had changed the life of the country.  For Anne, the coronation procession was her first chance to see the reaction of the English people to her new station.  Hostile accounts disparaged everything: according to a report that reached the Imperial court in Brussels, the crowds did not cheer and take their hats and toques off when Anne passed.  Some say that later, Anne complained to Henry about the cold reception with gloomy throngs on the streets.  At the same time, Eric Ives thinks that spectators were ‘more curious than either welcoming or hostile’, so perhaps the most negative things from the coronation reports should be given little credit to.

Disappointed by their reaction, Anne must have felt a blend of dejection, anxiety, pride, and triumph.  Regardless of their opinion of her, her beloved Hal chose her to be his queen, and soon she would give the country a long-awaited male heir.  Anne was heavily pregnant at the time of the coronation, and I can imagine her placing a hand on her swollen stomach, hidden by her gown, as she thought of a Tudor prince she presumably carried.  Defiance was one of her most controversial qualities, and she had committed her first act of defiance of social norms years ago, when she had accepted the monarch’s marriage proposal while Henry was still married to Catherine of Aragon.  As she contemplated the sullen people who did not want her to be their queen, she probably decided that if defiance was her destiny, she would be defiant again against all the rules if necessary.

What shall this day bring to me, June?

A brilliance with every summer hue:

The cloud-white dream of happiness,

Shot with the primrose sunshine through…

Or shall my coronation bring me pain,

People do not want me, their stillness say it,

The day will see me crowned despite them,

Yet, making ancient rhyme of lovers sore,

As if my joy is dead, my sadness lingers yet.

Oh, Henry!  They love you, their dear prince,

Will you work to make them favor me too?

Some say your love is like a flight of doves –

With wanton wings, with promises and ways,

But flashing white against the sky only to die.

You may love, and sigh, and soon forget?!

I do not believe!  You are my Hal forever!

A thousand roses will blossom red for us,

And a thousand hearts will be gay, I pray,

For the summer of love lingers just ahead,

And our boy is on his way to a Golden age,

Fate will have him born in autumn for us.

The moon and the stars will weave new spells

Of love – for my Hal, for me, and for our boy,

The music of marriage bells will sound to us.

Oh, sadness – stay behind and die in May!

I’ve started writing a lot of poetry as of late, and I cannot explain why I need it. Now I can write both prose and poetry, and it is not difficult for me at all.  In this poem, which I composed to describe Anne’s feelings during her coronation procession, I strove to stress her strong faith in Henry’s love and in her happiness with him, and to remind of their expectation that the child in her belly was a boy.  The reference to England’s Golden Age foreshadows Elizabeth I’s glorious reign, but at that time, Anne and Henry could not know about it.  I hope you like this poem.

Soon the coronation party made its grand entrée into the City of London.  During the reign of Henry VIII, this historical place was mostly confined to that small area with a population of about 100,000 people.  The City was the center of business and finance, where trade guilds and livery companies elected the Lord Mayor every year.  Since the days of William the Conqueror, the City has retained its independence from royal interference.  Thus, Anne’s coronation procession was a significant event aimed at showing the king’s second spouse to the population of London.

There were 6 traditional points for pageants through the city and additional 3 locations, each of them opulently decorated for Anne as a sign of King Henry’s undying devotion to her.  On the 1st June of 1533 after what must have seemed an eternity of waiting, the coronation procession entered Westminster.  The witnesses began assembling in Westminster Hall from 7am, but it was just minutes before 9pm that Henry’s wife appeared there.

Anne must have breathed out a sigh of relief as they approached Westminster Abbey, where she would finally be crowned; she was in a family way, so she must have been tired, in spite of her exhilaration.  Climbing down from her litter, she and her ladies set out along a route carpeted with cloth of blue ray all along the several hundred yards between the dais of the hall and the high altar of the abbey.  Anne was watched by all the peers of the realm and foreign ambassadors, aldermen and judges in scarlet, the monks of Westminster and the staff of the Chapel Royal, all in their sumptuous copes, as well as four bishops, two archbishops and twelve mitred abbots in full pontificals.  The abbot of Westminster had his complete regalia.

Ives describes Anne’s appearance in Westminster in these moments:

“Anne was resplendent in coronation robes of purple velvet, furred with ermine, with the gold coronet on her head which she had worn the day before, though it is not clear that she followed tradition by walking barefoot.  Over her was carried the gold canopy of the Cinque Ports, and she was preceded by the sceptre of gold and the rod of ivory topped with the dove, and by the lord great chamberlain, the earl of Oxford, bearing the crown of St Edward…”

On the way to the high alter, Anne was supported, according to custom, by the bishops of London and Winchester.  The Dowager Duchess of Norfolk carried her long train, and a myriad of her ladies and gentlewomen, each of them accoutered in scarlet with appropriate distinctions of rank.  Perhaps having an enigmatic expression on her face, Anne seated herself into St Edward’s Chair, draped in cloth of gold.  The grand chair was situated on a tapestry-draped dais two steps high, which was itself set on a raised platform carpeted in red.  For a few moments, Anne sat there before she stood up, and the official ceremony of her coronation started.

A solemn mass was performed by the bishop of Westminster.  Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer, who supported and adored Anne, prayed over her as the royal wife prostrated herself before the altar, despite her pregnancy.  She was anointed by Cranmer before she walked back to St Edward’s Chair, where the archbishop crowned her and handed to her the sceptre and the rod of ivory.  It is remarkable that Anne was the first female monarch who was crowned with the crown of St Edward, which was previously used to crown only a reigning ruler.  This was King Henry’s obvious attempt to make others see the significance of his marriage to Anne.

A bit later, the heavy crown of St Edward was replaced with a lighter one, of course for the queen’s convenience.  The service continued: Anne took the sacrament and made the offering at the shrine of the saint.  As his beloved cemented her place in history as the new Queen of England, King Henry watched the ceremony from the special stand from behind a latticework, which had been erected in the abbey so that the sovereign could see everything incognito.

This mystique of monarchy belonged to Queen Anne Boleyn.  At that time, she could not predict that in about three years, she would die on her husband’s orders for crimes she did not commit.  Her emotions must have alternated between celestial delight, unutterable joy, and a feeling of unprecedented triumph.  It seemed to Anne that a golden future stretched before her, a future composed of nothing but hope, new victories, and contentment.

The sun has shone upon all of me and fed

My heart and soul’s rhythms with light,

Raised me from dust to a rose, big and red,

Now I’m Henry’s queen, my life is bright!

A white star-flower of joy I will encounter

As sweet darkness envelops the earth

This night – no, not my wedding night,

But the first night of me being a queen.    

In the dark, my Hal is still my sun of life,

He will guard my body and sleep tonight,

Holding all the starts in the sky true to us,

Reassuring me that we will defeat any foe.

In the morning, as I will open my eyes again,

From heaven, Hal’s sun will stoop to breathe

A flower of our love into the air in our room.

Surely, my life is now not beneath my Hal’s,

For I became his true queen in Westminster,

Beloved forever and feeling his kindness,

His care for our son growing inside me.

All make me believe it will last forever.  

So, from the ashes of my odd sadness,

That lingers in my bosom like a dirge,

Will beauty and hopes grow in my life.

I’ve also written the poem describing Anne’s feelings after her coronation.  I may be wrong, but I do not think she had any fears about her future at that time.  I believe that Anne loved Henry, perhaps not from the very beginning of their romance, but she fell in love with him somewhere along the way.  The long way to their wedding and Anne’s coronation.  Nonetheless, the mentioned “odd sadness” foreshadows that Anne’s happiness with Henry would not last long.  The “odd sadness” lingers “like a dirge”, which foreshadows her tragic death after an awful lot of unhappiness Anne would experience in her marriage to the king after his passion for her cooled off.

And so far, the nobility of England saw Anne being crowned and accepted or were forced to accept her as queen in the sight of God.  Whatever Anne’s fate would be, the mystique of a queen was unbreakable even after her death.

William Shakespeare would declare a generation later:

“Not all the water in the rough rude sea

Can wash the balm from an anointed king.”

_________________________________________________

“Two poems were written by Olivia Longueville

All images are in the public domain. Text © 2019 Olivia Longueville

#Anne Boleyn #queen anne boleyn #Boleyn #King Henry VIII #Tudor History #Tudor period #the Tudors #henry VIII of england #Tudor #henry viii #royals #coronation

[nebacru]

State of the Union: Federation II, Salvington Destruction, SER, and More

http://forum.serara.org/index.php?action=recent

Memorandum 8 Back in August and September this year we lost the organization of the Local Universe Federation. What it intended to be was to form ten Local Universes together to help each other out with the back breaking chore of getting all the administrative back up clogging official channels from the millenniums of the Lucifer rebellion. That rebellion in Nebadon cost it sixteen million lives by rebel adjudication. In Avalon, our next door Local Universe neighbor, they lost fourteen thousands beings, and like Nebadon, most of the deaths occurred in the Seraphic ranks of ministry and teaching and so on. There is a statistical table, two of them, further down to get the scope of losses in all of this too/ On top of that Alvoring, another next door neighbor Local Universe, they lost a lot of Local Universe divine Sons. They lost no Melchizedeks, and no Melchizedek was ever lost in the Lucifer rebellion, but they were decreed that forty-two divine Sons were depersonalized for participating in the same nefarious games that Lucifer taught the Urantia devil, Caligastia and the hench people he launched to screw tight the lid of death and destruction over Urantia itself.

8 What Is Happening on Todays Date if Anything / New: MEMORANDUM 8 - The State of the Union: Space Sectpr 10; Nebadon Disaster « Last post by Ron Besser  on Today at 09:01:19 AM » October 28, 2019 Memorandum 8 State of the Union: Federation II, Salvington Destruction, SER, and More Back in August and September this year we lost the organization of the Local Universe Federation. What it intended to be was to form ten Local Universes together to help each other out with the back breaking chore of getting all the administrative back up clogging official channels from the millenniums of the Lucifer rebellion. That rebellion in Nebadon cost it sixteen million lives by rebel adjudication. In Avalon, our next door Local Universe neighbor, they lost fourteen thousands beings, and like Nebadon, most of the deaths occurred in the Seraphic ranks of ministry and teaching and so on. There is a statistical table, two of them, further down to get the scope of losses in all of this too/ On top of that Alvoring, another next door neighbor Local Universe, they lost a lot of Local Universe divine Sons. They lost no Melchizedeks, and no Melchizedek was ever lost in the Lucifer rebellion, but they were decreed that forty-two divine Sons were depersonalized for participating in the same nefarious games that Lucifer taught the Urantia devil, Caligastia and the hench people he launched to screw tight the lid of death and destruction over Urantia itself.

Deaths through Depersonalization of Federation Local Universes

of Celestial and Divine Personnel

LOCAL UNIVERSE * DIVINE SONS * SERAPHIM * OTHER ORDERS Nebadon                          135                        14,351                   9,154 Henselon                          72                          13,271                   12,419 Sensalon                          119                        14,114                   12,154 Tintantium                       319                        12,125                   11,314 Wolvering                        0                            937                        17,212 Avalon                             93                          13,127                   14,162 Densalon                        184                        19,611                   14,277 Others*                           387                        122,322                 176,513 Total = *Others include another eight ( more Local Universes and two municipalities not revealed in the Fifth Epochal Revelation and not shown in the Sixth Epochal Revelation. They include neighbors of Nebadon, Alvoring, plus nearby Trandonson and Fortranson. Five remain unnamed except to state not all galactic constructions contain Local Universes, but our space Sector 10 contains something our Star Students call Municipalities. The two Municipalities in these statistics are Serenson and Domnanson. They are smaller than Local Universes and use 1/12th of a Superuniverse power charge whereas Local Universes use 1/10th of a the power charge of a Superuniverse. Orvonton uses about 60 trillion candle power every universe day. Municipalities use about 4 billion candle power every universe day. A universe day in space Sector ten (10) is about four Urantia 24-hour days itself.

Totals you can do for yourselves by adding those columns up. Because of so many casualties associated with the Lucifer rebellion, every citizen that was depersonalized had to be taken to a spirit morgue to account for their serial number and their years of service and a resume of what they did and how well. God the Supreme terrorized the Local Universes above in 2019 starting in the third week of June, and again in August and again in September and early October. All of this happened in this calendar year on Urantia. We add the following statistics of depersonalized and dead celestial life as follows just this year (2019):

Deaths 2019 Urantia Calendar Year of Celestial

Personnel in These Local Universes

LOCAL UNIVERSE * DIVINE SONS * SERAPHIM * OTHER ORDERS Nebadon                                     37                          2,143                     1,612 Sensalon                                     27                          1,929                     2,304 Henselon                                    62                          42                          1,317 Tintantium                                 29                          34                          2,165 Densalon                                    19                          31                          6,164 Shearson*                                  35                          19                          142,316 Others++                                    7,350                     241,264                 139,216

*Shearson is a Municipality just northeast of Nebadon ++ Others include the two municipalities named above and six other Local Universes not named above in space Sector 10.

ABOUT SPACE SECTOR TEN (10)

A Space Sector is about 1/10 of a Light year long, sixteen light years deep, and about fourteen thousand light years around. Local Universes are embedded in them for regular usages of power from the Superuniverse they are part of, but they are more shallow than a Local Universe is deep. Nebadon is forty light years across, and is sixty two light years deep and about fifty light years wide. Nebadon comprises about 60 trillion candle power watts to run in a Urantia 24 hours time.

Space Sector 10 contains fifty-two Local Universes. Of that 52 Local Universes, nine of those Local Universes are much larger than Nebadon. Tintantium is a Local Universe that sits right up against the First Outer Space Level (OSL), and it is nine thousand light years across, ten thousand to the fifth power light years deep and its width edge to edge from front side to back side is almost unfathomable. It is so big because the power charge of Orvonton is so weak, that Creator Son had to hobble together six Space Sectors, including Space Sector 10, to get recognized as a Local Universe. Space Sector 10, now has been detached from its neighboring other Space Sectors by the Master Force Organizers. Here is Master Force Organizer Number Sixty-Two: “We speak of a Space Sector as a discrete unit of about 100 thousand light years across and about sixty million light years wide and about fifteen light years deep. For that reason Nebadon sticks above Space Sector Ten by about sixteen light years, and punches through this Space Sector 10 by about 47 light years out of Sector 10 space collusional time. “Space Sector 10 is wide enough to cover all the local universes in them. But Nebadon has a large knob at the top to protect it against a huge black island that is so dangerous we hide it with other dark islands of matter so dense one teaspoon would weight about sixteen tonnes and that is a level teaspoon too. With that in mind, kindly note that God the Supreme decided to rent our dark islands by tearing it loose and throwing it out into deeper space and into Space Sector Five and part of Space Sector Nine. Nebadon immediately became destabilized and was forced to call an all out emergency mayday.

“An emergency of this size forces all Master Force Organizers to drop what they are doing, and get to the scene of the problem. At one point Nebadon suffered a tremendous explosion which killed over ten thousand celestial personalities attending to it. They have all been repersonalized, but in every case they have no memory of the explosion itself since it was not thermonuclear, but transcendental Ultimatonic infarcture plasma. Such a plasma if let loose would utterly destroy Urantia even if Urantia were thousands of light years away from it.

The ULTIMATONIC INFARCTURE PLASMA occurred 12 July, 13 July and 15 July, 2019, and the Plasma was detected nearly one million light years away in Minor Sector Five, on U Minor the 5th, and it caused that architectural capital to free in its motion for sixteen moments which is about twenty-four hours long on Urantia.

Nebadon no longer has the stabilizing influence nearby of its original dark island of space,

but now must rely on Avalon and Sensalon to recapture parts of the original dark island of space and restore what parts they can to its original location for better gravity stability.

 In sixty fiver thousand years to come, we estimate it will be nearly fully restored, but

Nebadon is being moved to prevent the collapse of its capital and four hundred ninety five home satellite spheres around it.

That is why Space Sector 10 has been detached and is being placed in a probationary space sector on its own for now. It also needs to be studied by Uversa of Orvonton, to become better understood as to why it produces so many high spirit beings of which this transmitter is one. He is destined for Melchizedek service and that is no lie.

For the foreseeable future, the mansion worlds of the Satania Planetary System are off limits due to the fact that their means of power and gravity stability are so seriously compromised, 

we evacuate mansion worlds four, five, and six. 

Jerusem, the capital is alive and well. 

Mansion worlds one, two, and three, are now detached and sit slightly east of their original location near a rather small dark space island.

They are fully stabilized and the natives never noticed they were moved.

However, mansion worlds four, five, and six had to be relocated sixteen light years to the west in order to stabilize them as well. 

Such is the havoc God the Supreme has caused,

and his destruction is nearly complete.

 BUT:

Mansion world six houses the Sadler family now. (!)

They were moved from Mansion world five in September by our calendar, and in early October, who you know as Dr. Sadler, reported that that planet was rupturing a green colored gas into their study rooms. He asked to be evacuated at once and in the nick of time Lena, son Bill Junior, Christy, and four others you do not know, escaped another Ultimatonic Plasma explosion, not unlike the first one but much smaller. Mansion world six is now off limites to all and its ten satellites are restricted to old time residents only. It is correctly assumed that the activities of Dr. Sadler and the old Contact Commission are now moved back to the satellites of earlier mansion worlds and repairs are not necessary,

for now Satania mansion worlds have to be abandoned.

New ascension career mansion worlds

will have to be reconstructed from scratch over the next millennium.

Our Creator Son (Jesus Christ Micahel) built those originals when he put Nebadon on the map.

This time the Master Force Organizers will replace the Satania mansion worlds from scratch.

FEDERATION CHANGES AND MANSION WORLD REVISIONS

I have reported the existence of the existence of a Federation for over six months. God the Supreme, when he attacked Salvington, blew the dark island of space out of Sector 10, and then proceeded to destroy the administration building on SALVINGTON, and then killed over sixteen hundred (1,600) non-willed workers as they stood at their consoles doing their work. Because I have a psychic streak to me, I saw what they looked like and wept as they died instantly and dropped to the floor. These workers are much like automatons, but they know and are friends to each other and work hard for the supervisors above them. They do the work to monitor the Salvington gravity fields and were in a terror as the dark gravity body slipped its moorings and started to drift away. What I saw were six foot tall humans as we are on Urantia today. They had hair and wore a jersey top and trousers to match. They were slightly stooped and they had a mile a minute contraption pasted on the wall that sounded like muzak to me. I saw in color and I saw dials and nothing more. The Supreme killed them all. It is not nice to see something like that. The Supreme proceeded down to Urantia and killed most of the Midwayer population not attached to the 1111 group and I did not know that, but the Vicegerent in charge of the land sector my home occupies stood by the computer (invisible) but those of you who may learn to do the Voice of God work I do know close presence greatly amplifies the ease of telepathy as a voice transmission and this was loud and clear as I was instructed as to what was happening on Urantia and not to interfere. That Vicegerent had the power to kill on the spot as was seen on Salvington. I further report I am fully discharged from that service now and live simply not but receive constant threats to stand down from doing the work you are reading now. These V oh G transmissions are monitored by the Residual Supreme and by the angry God the Ultimate over losing the first OSL to the Melchizedek population sequestered out of the Federation from the Local Universes who joined it. The present Federation that exists as I write this is composed of six Local Universes. The original Federation which existed when the Supreme attacked Salvington and myself. Was composed of ten Local Universes and we theorize this is what so angered God the Supreme, he determined to destroy it and its capital at Salvington placements. Since the July attacks on Salvington, I have had three attempts on my life and six attempts to dissolve bone in my legs with a serum that does that by injection. I am right now a cripple because of it and the destroyed my left eye. You know not the horrors of this God the Supreme as it was and how it had to be destroyed on Havona, which it has been. There is no God the Supreme left except as it resides in your own cells at birth and the reader grew up with it to exist now as you are.

THE INFINITE SPIRIT APPROACHES ME

The INFINITE SPIRIT was in my humble bedroom the night of September 11th and 12th. How do I know. Simple. He put on quite a light show for me. On my ceiling as I lay awake on my bed, he drew Paradise in a grey glow, and sprinkled the swirl of seven superuniverses in great bright light to swirly around the ceiling Paradise drawing. He swirled them in flashing brilliant blue white light counter clockwise around the huge great body, so much larger than artists depict it in graphics for readers of the FER. That is what you call privilege. He appeared in that room those two nights as an invisible Supernaphim of great wit and charm and we laughed together about what he said. He also told me that we are to bring the sixth epochal revelation (SER) to the state of perfection through Mantutia Melchizedek, who then also appeared beside the INFINITE SPIRIT, and likewise invisible to my eyes, but when one learns the Voice of God technique, close up personal appearances beside you of spirit come in so clear and loud you know t hey are standing near you. In any case we proceeded to discuss the end of God the Supreme. As the fifth epochal revelation explains, God the Spirit frequently stands in for the actions of God the Supreme when that experiential Deity is not well developed enough to do something itself. Then the INFINITE SPIRIT helps out as do our Creative Spirits in Nebadon.

THE INFINITE SPIRIT TRANSMITS:

“I am indeed the existential God of Spirit, and all he has spoken to here is fully accurate. I seldom visit planets outright, but Urantia is in such a sorry state we need all we can get from readers of the Fifth Epochal Revelation,  pattern all lessons we inspire on Urantia quickly and well.

This transmitter knows God the Father and THE Son, and the Spirit of God.

We place regularity from Paradise because it is so critical this individual share the inane ability to see all we can project to him in pictures and words.

Someday he will be lauded for procuring from the Magisterial Son, Rayson, a vaccine for the cure of AIDS ready to be published as “THE ORIGINS OF AIDS AND AUTISM,” about a two hundred page hardback when it gets ready.

Paradise approved its publication earlier this year and stands behind it. Fully understood though is that the Sixth Epocal Revelation must appear shortly as well

and the near destruction of Salvington, the destruction of the gravity bodies near to Salvington, and the loss of Creator Son Sovereignty when Michael had to flee from Salvington with his staff at least three times to Uversa, before the FATHER could coral the Supreme and stop the rampage.

“I am the INFINITE SPIRIT and we make no amends today to announce a further reduction in personnel because of the destruction of God the Supreme on Havona on the day of 26 September, when the Supreme caused another plasma explosion so horrific, it killed seven thousand and more of his own staff who died vaingloriously never knowing what happened. 

Ron knew of this from me and wept with us all as they were good and honest power brokers for the Supreme and he took them all with him in the morning attendance regime the Supreme always held on the 4th circuit of Havona.

The Supreme had been promoted from the third Havona circuit a mere two years before to the 4th and lost control of his pleasure to evolve and instead took the road of the Lucifer rebellion and seized the universes he wanted to rule. Close Quote the INFINITE SPIRIT.”

Memorandum 8 Update 19/28/19 through 10/30/2019

“I am the INFINITE SPIRIT.

I am on Urantia for the foreseeable future.

I am here on Urantia,

literally I walk on Urantia soil right now,

and that is a Supernaphim

as you know we existential Deities cannot come into time without damaging it.

Be also assured Ron that damage you have to the brain stem is rescinded as it was placed there by a very nasty Serena and you are coming back well already. We are sure the Adjuster battled to keep it out of problems but you were aware of the nasty blow at one point and were infuriated over the change as you should have been. She is fully remanded and will never enter the space domain of Urantia again. Be assured the feeling is mutual as she considers you the worst of the worst and dislikes you intensely now. You will never meet we are sure.

“Fully explained now, we have a discussion this morning how to finish this memorandum.

Ron does not casually use these documents at all and worried we got to much done on unessential details. I doubt that, but we are now forcing one more issue to the readership: (namely) The CONTACT COMMISSION Ron still heads. “Today, Michael closed the Contact Commission once again and dismissed Steven Gitz and Dominick Ohrbeck for reasons Michael holds germane to the Sixth Epochal Revelation. The SER as we all call it now, is ready and waiting, and yet Ron and Mantutia are at odds not on a thing but whether it should be done at all. “

MANTUTIA MELCHIZEDEK - “I am sure Ron is fully aware of what battle we are talking about. This Memorandum now fully testifies to the horrors of the damage done to Salvington and to other Local Universes nearby by God the Supreme. Yet the SER has not had the time to address this disaster. In fact the disaster is so great we had to relocate the planet MELCHIZEDEK and to explore other places to hold our Melchizedek meetings. The planet is in a shambles and is mostly unusable thanks to the invasion of God the Supreme.

“Now that you know that, we must make amends to all of you. This morning Ron complained bitterly of yet more needles stuck into him and causing a lot of pain. He says they are entities slipping in under the space sector the guards for him do not see and he is right. He is propitious to understand that space sectors matter as a direction finder too and that the INFINITE SPIRIT raucously took care of it immediately,

and the Space Sector Four (4) Urantia usually resides in has been changed to Space Sector Two (2),

and that makes it extremely difficult for the rebels and the Supreme to send needles to Ron and others who also experience this terrible travesty to human peace. Remember this now. Space Sector 2 is used only by TINTANTIUM, the huge Local Universe directly next to the OSZ (outer space zone) number one.

For that reason that makes our travel difficult but doable

until the Melchizedek Government is established back onto Urantia shortly.

I also hear mutter under his breath: “this is unbelievable stuff!”

I agree and truth is stranger than fiction truly.

Be assured that gets off you mind shortly as they are ready to call you shortly.

Regarding the SER though, what do we do with another major disaster on our hands? Michael addresses this now:” Please see the following page: MICHAEL OF NEBADON THE SALVINGTON DESTRUCTION THE SER AND WHAT TO DO          “We are now sure you are out of danger entirely Ron. That Space Sector Shift just accomplished from the old four to the new SS 2, does the trick beautifully, and we deeply regard this action taken by the INFINITE SPIRIT for our cause.          “Fully agreed Ron, and we thank the INFINITE SPIRIT PERIODICALLY for seeing to you too as you are something else to care for under these circumstances too. You are unfortunately under the gun by Paradise and Uversa and Salvington (with what is left of it), and for others like you we may never have an era like this erupt again, but it sure teaches object lessons I never thought I had to broach. In any case the Urantia Foundation is less interested in all of this but they do not realize it makes tendering to the SER all that more difficult and we may have to deal with these immends changes with a follow up Year Book to the SER. We have looked at that before and do so again.         “Truthfully, we rescind nothing here except to remind all of you we format differently because this is another addition to the Memo than we intended recently. For that reason we restate the SER is ready as is but is missing the write up on the Salvington debacle, and so on. Be assured this travels well into space as SS 10's problems for now. We also rescinded the Contact Commission but Ron remains a Contact Commissioner alone for now. We leave it at that for now. Michael of Nebadon.”

MANTUTIA MELCHIZEDEK - “We see the strain on you Ron, and quite this shortly.

 We need to report that the SER is printed and materialized now. It awaits final approval to be seen and photographed shortly. Thank you.”

THE CREATIVE SPIRIT OF NEBADON - “We now resolve one more issue with Ron to make things easier for all. His eyesight is awful and getting worse but his heart is strong and makes excellent moral decisions too. We must accrue to his name a few lessons we want known to all:

1 The SER is a giant book. Three thousand pages and counting.

2 The Contact Commission still lives in Ron Besser and he alone keeps it alive for now.

3 We are no longer interfering in minds with Residual Supreme problems and will make amends to your Adjusters. That goes for all on the discussion forum.

4 We are sure that the last time we used a memo like this we created a fire storm

and this one is no different

but because of its length it is harder to read.

For now on short Memorandums become the habit again except this one carries some hard stats to read too and we leave them alone for now.

5 The last time I wrote any sense was to Jerry in California and he is now reposing in a hospital for weakening heart problems. He may not make it Ron so keep your powder dry for that benediction.

6 We are now hearing that the Space Sector Two (SS2_ is referring you as not available for contact and that makes it very difficult for us to get in otherwise.

Be assured those bites on your feet now are not us but a contact commission of our own to establish a review of your persistent desire for no more shots. We agree but hard to not do. Later we agree it is over but right now there are tissue problems not resolved in you. K MOTHER SPIRIT.”

INFINITE SPIRIT - “You are not bothered by anything Ron but by a brain stem already weak to start the day and unable to keep the mistakes out as it usually does. In any case we are ready to close this addition and thank all of you for your cordiality over accepting these long messages/ Good day. THE INFINITE SPIRIT. k”

END

Ron, I am at a loss for words! The battle you have just fought and won to get this MEMORANDUM 8 for all of us to read, deserves nothing less than the V.C. (Victoria Cross).  The highest military award in Britain. On the reverse of the cross, simply reads,  FOR VALOUR Yes, indeed, truth is stranger than fiction and yet we have the great privilege of being able to read it, with mouths agasp as we try to visualize this truth. A big "Thank You" to all the Celestials who contributed. Lemuel

#What Is Happening on Todays Date if Anything / Re: Announcement - Truth can be Stranger than fictior-Our space area is moving away « Last po #What Is Happening on Todays Date if Anything / Re: New: MEMORANDUM 8 - The State of the Union: Space Sectpr 10; Nebadon Disaster « Last post

[multsicorn]

a very very long list of maybe wip’s

Since I'm working on setting up a binder of WIPs for myself - here are all fifty-nine of them.  All are Check Please: mostly Jack/Parse, most of the rest Parse-centric, most of the rest Jack-centric, but a few random other fics too.  Quite a few of these are only ideas, but most (~75-80%, at least) have anywhere between a few hundred and a few thousand words written, and some have considerably more.

Votes or encouragement as to which particular fics I should work on are very much welcome!  And in fact a large part of the point of posting this.  Pleaseee tell meeee what you want to seeeee.

JACK/PARSE IN THE Q

golden haze -  Kent was Jack's first real friend, ever.

crash into me - Jack likes crashing into things.  Kent likes being crashed into.  Checking practice, kind of, Jack/Parse style.

one warm line - Parse wakes Jack up one night in the middle of their Q years, throwing pebbles at his window.  They're going for a ride.

i'm so high - Jack and Kent hook up for the first time at a party when they're smoking weed, when the smallest touches feel like so much.

the beat of the tambourine - Parse picks up a girl for Zimms.  For a threesome.  Before they're together, back in the Q.

closing the guest room door - Alicia walks in on Kent blowing Jack.  It's the first time it's happened, too.  The Zimmermanns hadn't known anything about any of this, but now they do.

beneath the waves - There are two attractions in Rimouski: the Juniors ice hockey team, and a maritime museum.  Jack kind of wants to live on a submarine.

edge of glory - Kent kisses Jack high on adrenaline and the win, feeling unstoppable.  They only have thirty-four days together, but they start out pretty great.

ace kent fucks jack - Kent doesn't care that much about fucking, but he cares too much about Jack.

don't make promises - Kent visits the Zimmermanns after Jack's out of rehab, and Jack scares him even more.

JACK/PARSE CANON DIVERGENCE

find your lips in the streetlights - Kent and Jack run away from the mounting and dangerous pressure of the Q.  And Jack almost dies from benzo withdrawal; nice move?

what's the multiplier for i love you - Parse has a career-ending injury at seventeen.  He ends up going to Samwell, and starts managing the hockey team there before Jack even shows up.

one skate in front of the other - In which Jack wakes up from his overdose to find out he's still been drafted in absentia.  To the Las Vegas Aces, third round.

different verse same as the first - Jack manages to get through Draft Day successfully.  He ODs about a year later, at his first NHL awards; Parse still finds him in the bathroom.

JACK/PARSE POST CANON ISH

jackparse goat fic - Kent is outed during Jack's last semester at Samwell.  It's a spark that makes Jack talk to him again: and again, and again, with starts and stops along the way.

bitty's bad bakery - Turning a profit doing something you love is really freaking hard.  Just cause Bitty's good at baking doesn't mean he'll be good at running a bakery; and Jack can only finance it for so long, no longer.  Cue Kent the accountant showing up to help.

max assholes au - In which Jack marries Bitty with Kent's spunk still in his mouth.

we're pining friends - In which Jack and Parse become friends again, and Jack's so not thrilled with Parse's boyfriend.

jackparse valentines - Jack and Parse on Valentine's Day, at eighteen and again at twenty-eight.  Sweet but not too sweet.  Just right.

developing - Jack likes taking pictures of Kent.  Kent is curious about why.

may the bridges i have burned light my way back home - Jack's nearing thirty.  His performance is flagging, his boyfriend broke up with him, and now he's at Kent Parson's thirtieth birthday party, wondering how else his life could've gone.

JACK/PARSE AFFAIR REVEAL VERSE

conference room fuck - You can't put Parson and Zimmerman in a room together.  But if you do, you can't keep them from fucking.

you wouldn't cheat at cards (i would if i could) - Jack continues to cheat on Bitty with Parse throughout the summer after Jack and Bitty come out to the whole wide world.  At the NHL awards, at Parse's summer place in New York, at Jack's birthday.

under the rainbows - After coming out to the whole wide world on live TV in June, Parse comes back to the Aces in September.

tinfoil crowns - A look at the meltdowns of Hockey RPF fandom, as Jack Zimmerman comes out, followed by Kent Parson, followed by Parse and Zimms getting back together, after all!?  How crazy it must be when the tinhatters are right.

letting them see your hands - In which Shitty works through his feelings about Jack cheating on Bitty, and Shitty and Lardo discuss their relationship, too.

waking up to shape the land - When Jack comes to Vegas to play the Aces - and, by the way, see his boyfriend - he's woken up by Kent's nightmare.

functional exes - After Jack cheated on Bitty with Kent, and it all blew up spectacularly; after some damanged friendships were restored.  Jack and Bitty are both there for Shitty's wedding.  Bitty's a pro at keeping things civil; Jack… wants to apologize?

JACK/PARSE IN TOTAL AU'S

the hockey prince - Jack is a Prince; Kent was his best friend, and his right hand man.  Till Jack disappeared in mysterious circumstances, and Kent may or may not be to blame.

ai romance - Jack is an AI that was always meant to drive a robot.  Parse is, well, a parser.  The part of a computer program that takes in and processes input, before it passes it on to the real heart of the program.  A part which, it turns out, can't work right without its parser after all.

cult au - SMH is a cult house!  That's why everyone there has to always be happy.  Pies make people like you; flip cup is a good fill-in for a hippie ritual; and no wonder Jack cut off everyone he used to know when he joined.

cut the legs off the whales - Jack and Parse were soulmates.  Jack died for three seconds, and now they're both stuck with half a broken bond, with all the luck at hockey - or at life.

JACK/PARSE NON-ENDGAME

you're still my patron saint - Jack's OD is fatal.  Kent's got the biggest chip in the world on his shoulder.  Hockey killed his boyfriend, and he wins the Stanley Cup, and then he comes out, furious.

progress report (i am missing you to death) - AKA 'five times Kent tells Jack "I miss you," and one time he doesn't.'

P(B)J

can you say menange a trois - Zimbits porn featuring dirty talk about the absent Kent Parson, because Bitty's 'Kent parson. Wow.' face reads easily as 'dead from too much hot.'

married in vegas - Jack and Parse get accidentally married after a Falcs/Aces game, cause you've just gotta have the trope when in Vegas.  Starts with Jack still in love with Bitty, not sure where it was supposed to end up.

scalene - Jack and Parse aren't fighting over Bitty.  They're fucking over Bitty.  I mean.

awful threesome - Parse guilts Jack into letting him visit Providence after Jack and Bitty come out, and Parse gets hit with redoubled specuation.  Then he hits on Jack and Bitty, cause why not, and they, surprisingly, take him up on it.  This isn't a good idea for anyone.

PARSE CENTRIC GEN

butterflies fly away - Kent moves into Vegas.  His sister flies out for a few days to help.

the one that saves me - When he first comes to Vegas, Kent's shit at taking care of himself.  Maybe he can take care of a cat instead.

PARSWOOPS 2K18

parswoops in providence - Swoops is standing between Parse and the door to the worst life choices.

two aces in the hole - Parswoops in which Parse and Swoops are both ace (and get together, romantically), cause thinking about a dumb pun accidentally gave me feelings.

parswoops post year three - How can Swoops tell his best friend he likes guys, when said best friend is the only reason he figured it out?  Also, still isn't over his last best friend yet.

PARSE/RANDOM DUDE IS THE AO3 TAG FOR PARSE/HAPPINESS

parse slash scraps - There's something nice, Parse thinks, about having a friend like Scraps, a friend who thinks you're the smartest, coolest, handsomest guy in every room.

by the scruff - Kent really wants to pick a fight.  Alexei Mashkov won't give it to him.  But… that kind of is a fight, right?

makes no difference who you are - Parse wishes on a star: to talk to Jack again.  Chowder wishes on a start, that same night: to know what it's like to be on an NHL team.  They wake up in each others' bodies, and have to find a way to get back.

a pretty good genie - Shitty is the best genie, okay.  How'd Parse get one of those anyway.

players gonna play - In which Kent Parson bonds with Gus Kenworthy over adorable pet pictues at the Olympics, and then they hook up.

the aces' flyboy - In which Kent tweets a request for a date to the NHL awards, and picks up a local dude who responds.

MORE JACK CENTRIC FIC

quiet kid - Who the fuck prescribes benzos to a thirteen-year-old kid, anyway.

what if i ruined your life - Visiting Uncle Mario, in the late 00s, Jack hates Sidney Crosby.  (I can't resist the fourth wall.)

jacklardo - Lardo hooks up with some dork named Jack at her very first college party.  They're better off as friends; he was hot, though.

jackshit - Jack and Shitty hooked up as freshmen.  What else do you want me to say.

tie down the jesses - The newest Falconer needs to learn a lesson.  Needs to learn his place.

dirty boys - You're not supposed to look in the locker room.  Don't bring it onto the team.  Oh, and stay faithful to your boyfriend.  But Jack's always wanted what he can't have.

ZIMBITS

i like when boys stop by  - A rough fill-in of the conversation that decides Bitty's staying with Jack for the summer that surely must've happened.

how do you make it for real - the zimbits coffeeshop au for fandomtrumpshate that i've been struggling with for over a year now.

HOLSOM & RANSKOV

and go seek - When Ransom's crush on Alexei Mashkov turns out not to be unrequited, Ransom and Holster are pushed to reevaluate their relationship, too.

BITTY???

bitty in the echl - Being captain of a pretty decent NCAA team gets Bitty a surprise job offer post-graduation from the Worcester Railers.  His relationship with Jack bends and breaks under the stresses of their dual hockey careers, but there's a familiar face in Bitty's new life.  He never thought that he'd see John Johnson again.

#mults liveblogs writing #kent parson #jackparse #omgcheckplease stuff / #if i'm lucky i'll finish like... five or ten of these maybe #there's literally no way i'll ever write all or most #a handful! but which handful? we don't know! #*

[phgq]

DFA in 2020, mounting one of PH's largest repat flights

#PHnews: DFA in 2020, mounting one of PH's largest repat flights

MANILA – As the coronavirus disease 2019 (Covid-19) pandemic shuttered businesses and displaced workers across the globe, among the hardest-hit are migrant workers, some of whom had no choice but to return home.

Following this, the Department of Foreign Affairs (DFA) in February began its Covid-19 repatriation, sending home some 30 Filipinos stuck in Wuhan where SARS-CoV-2, the virus causing Covid-19, was first detected.

It mounted its second repatriation flight for over 400 Filipinos quarantined inside MV Diamond Princess when an outbreak started in the luxury cruise ship early February.

Since then, several chartered and commercial flights sponsored and facilitated by the agency have brought thousands of distressed Filipinos back to the Philippines.

"The repatriation effort of DFA is unprecedented and perhaps one of the biggest if not the biggest of its kind in the world," Foreign Affairs Undersecretary Sarah Lou Arriola told the Philippine News Agency.

She said Facilitating the repatriation of more than 300,000 overseas Filipino workers (OFWs) and overseas Filipinos (OFs) was not easy.

“We even had to repatriate in countries like Uzbekistan where we do not have an embassy nor an honorary consul," she added.

As of December 30, a total of 323,436 OFWs were able to return since the pandemic started. This accounts for 59 chartered flights and 1,200 commercial flights around the world.

Year 2020 also produced a number of convictions against human traffickers who preyed on Filipino nationals, mostly women.

In April, Bahrain's High Criminal Court sentenced eight people to seven years of imprisonment for sex trafficking three Filipino women migrant workers last April.

An abused and trafficked OFW named "Courage" also won a criminal case against her Malaysian employers who were convicted by a Malaysian court for trafficking.

Arriola is hopeful 2021 "will be a better year for everyone and that we will have a more robust reintegration program".

"May this pandemic serve as a reset in our migration policy. We are hoping that trafficking in persons and illegal recruitment will eventually be curbed since the disadvantages of being irregular or undocumented have never been more pronounced than in this crisis," she said.

Before 2020 ended, the Philippines and the family of Jeanelyn Villavende also attained justice after the Kuwaiti Court of First Instance on December 30 sentenced the Filipina's female employer to death by hanging and her male employer to four years in prison.

The 26-year-old Villavende died in December 2019 at the hands of her employer who tortured and locked her up in Kuwait.

The OFW was already dead when brought to a hospital, with attending nurses reporting that she was "black and blue".

Villavende's tragic death triggered outrage and shock, prompting the government sometime in January to implement a deployment ban to Kuwait.

For the Philippine Embassy in Kuwait, the court decision serves as a reminder that "no Filipino is a slave to anyone, anywhere and everywhere, and that justice will always come to the defense of the week and oppressed". 

'Soleimani death, Beirut blast'

Concerns over peace and stability in the Middle East were also at a high in January 2020 following the death of Iran's elite Quds military force, Major Gen. Qassem Soleimani, during a US airstrike in Baghdad and following the ballistic missiles attack launched by Iran that hit two military bases in Iraq.

The DFA hoisted crisis alert level four for Filipinos in Iraq, with the Philippine Embassy in Baghdad tasked to effect the mandatory evacuation of Filipinos estimated at 1,640 in that country.

As tensions escalated in the region, President Rodrigo Duterte at that time even designated Environment Secretary Roy Cimatu to oversee the Philippines' repatriation efforts.

Some 13 Filipinos were repatriated since the crisis started in the area.

In August 2020, a warehouse in Beirut storing around 2,750 metric tons of ammonium nitrate also exploded injuring over 6,000 and killed over a hundred people, four of whom were Filipino nationals.

Since the explosion, the DFA repatriated a total of 703 distressed Filipinos from Lebanon, some of whom were displaced or either too traumatized to work in the area following the deadly blast.

'Arbitral win, VFA'

Aside from protecting Filipinos abroad, the DFA this year continuously asserted the country's rights in the disputed South China Sea.

On the fourth anniversary of Manila's arbitral win against China's vast claims in the region, Foreign Affairs Secretary Teodoro Locsin Jr. declared that the award is "non-negotiable".

He said that the tribunal “authoritatively ruled that China’s claim of historic rights to resources within the sea areas falling within the nine-dash line has no basis in law.”

Locsin also said the tribunal ruled that “certain actions within the Philippines’ exclusive economic zone violated the Philippines’ sovereign rights and were thus unlawful.”

Came September, President Rodrigo Duterte invoked the 2016 award before the international community.

During the 75th Session of the General Assembly in New York, Duterte underscored that the landmark decision “is now part of international law, beyond compromise and beyond the reach of passing governments to dilute, diminish or abandon”.

Earlier, former Philippine Ambassador to the United Nations Lauro Baja Jr. hailed this move as "a significant first step".

With this development, he said government agencies must now double its efforts and make the subject a future UN agenda item.

"We must be prepared to take further steps to concretize what the President has just said and that will take a lot of preparations and negotiations with other delegations. (We must) ensure that the issue will become an agenda with the UN," he earlier said.

The 2016 ruling issued by the Hague-based Permanent Court of Arbitration invalidated China's nine-dash line that claims about 80 percent of the resource-rich South China Sea.

In 2020, the Philippines also initiated the abrogation of the Visiting Forces Agreement with the United States, a decision that came after Duterte threatened to terminate the accord following the revocation of Senator Ronald dela Rosa's US visa, the former Philippine National Police chief who implemented the administration's crackdown against illegal drugs.

As the pandemic continue to rage on the background, the Philippines in June decided to suspend the abrogation. The suspension was extended for another six months in November.

In a statement following the extension, Locsin said this would allow both states "to find a more enhanced, mutually beneficial, mutually agreeable, and more effective and lasting arrangement on how to move forward in our mutual defense".

Manila and Washington signed in 1998 the VFA, which gives clear instructions on how visiting American troops should be treated in the Philippines.

Under the agreement, US forces are not subject to passport and visa regulations when entering and leaving the Philippines. Their permits and licenses are also deemed valid in the Philippines. (PNA)

***

References:

* Philippine News Agency. "DFA in 2020, mounting one of PH's largest repat flights." Philippine News Agency. https://www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1126124 (accessed January 02, 2021 at 02:01AM UTC+14).

* Philippine News Agency. "DFA in 2020, mounting one of PH's largest repat flights." Archive Today. https://archive.ph/?run=1&url=https://www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1126124 (archived).

#Philippines #News #Filipino #Pinoy #Tourism #Politics #Culture #Editorial #Environment #Society #History

[davidbraun]

Ascending Bhutan’s Sacred Tiger’s Nest

First published on November 30, 2014

Taktsang monastery on the side of a mountain overlooking Paro Valley in Bhutan. The World Heritage site is featured prominently in the National Geographic book “Sacred Places of a Lifetime,” a showcase of the world’s most powerful and spiritual places. Photograph by David Braun.

PARO, Bhutan–It’s a steep climb to Paro Taktsang, a Himalayan Buddhist monastery hugging the side of a rocky cliff 3,000 feet above the Paro valley in Bhutan. It requires ascending a thousand steps or more, but the path is well constructed and maintained, and the mountain air is fresh and cool. There are plenty of opportunities to stop to admire the spectacular surroundings, making the ascent quite enjoyable if taken slowly.

For those of us who live at sea level it can be difficult to breathe comfortably while exercising vigorously at 10,000 feet, so a relaxed pace with plenty of rest is definitely the way to make this pilgrimage, as advised by our expedition leader, Bill Jones.

The National Geographic Committee for Research and Exploration at the start of the hike up to Taktsang monastery. Photograph by David Braun.

The pilgrimage to Taktsang, also known as Tiger’s Nest or Tiger’s Lair, is (literally and figuratively) the high point of any visitor’s sojourn in Bhutan. For the National Geographic Committee for Research and Exploration delegation, it was the final stop of a week-long visit that had taken us around the western part of the kingdom, visiting dzongs (monastery fortresses), temples, and the wintering grounds of extremely rare white-bellied herons and black-necked cranes. We’d had plenty of time to acclimate to the altitude and there had been at least two long walks through farms and villages to prepare us for the steep climb to the Tiger’s Nest.

Flying in on a Tigress

Taktsang is said to be the holiest site in Bhutan. It’s where Guru Rinpoche, also known as Padmasambhava, materialized some 1,300 years ago on the back of a flying tigress. Finding shelter in a series of caves, he meditated for some three years and then set about converting the Bhutanese to Buddhism. 

Wall painting of Padmasambhava on Paro bridge. Image by by Baldiri, Wikimedia Creative Commons.

The monastery that commemorates this auspicious beginning was built nine centuries later, in the 1600s, although the buildings we see today have been replaced several times, including major reconstruction completed in 2005 after a fire devastated the structure and its contents in 1998.

Ever taking the long view, the Bhutanese point out that buildings are temporal and meant to be renewed; the ideas and philosophies they represent cannot be destroyed.

Photograph by David Braun.

Thousands of prayer flags frame a 200-foot waterfall below the Tiger’s Nest Monastery. Photograph by David Braun.

Small reliquaries or “tsa-tsas” containing ashes of the dead on ledges in the vicinity of Tiger’s Nest. Photograph by David Braun.

The final approach to the monastery after a climb of around two hours is over a bridge across a waterfall that drops 200 feet into a sacred pool. The entire area is wrapped in prayer flags, while crevices in the rock are crammed with tsa-tsas, small reliquaries made from ashes of the dead. One last brutal flight of steep steps hewn out of rock delivers pilgrims to the monastery, which for our visit was blanketed in low-hanging cloud, adding an aura of heaven to the place.

Entry to the sanctuary is granted on condition that shoes, cameras, cell phones and other electronic equipment are left at the gates. A security guard patted us down to make sure we were not smuggling cameras and he instructed us to button our jackets as a mark of respect for the holy place. Inside we were given a tour of various temples and other chambers crammed with Buddhist icons and heaped offerings of food and money. Flickering traditional butter lamps cast a warm ethereal light.

Taktsang’s main structures were rebuilt after a fire all but destroyed the complex 16 years ago. A consortium of international donors restored the site to its former glory in 2005. Photograph by David Braun.

Holy Water

In one temple we encountered a monk watching over a door sealing the cave used by Padmasambhava all those centuries ago. It is opened only once a year in a special ceremony, perhaps like Easter Sunday in the Vatican’s St Peter’s basilica. The monk blessed us and poured saffron-laced water into our hands which we brought to our lips and splashed on the crown of our heads. In the next sanctuary we found a monk chanting sacred texts. He too splashed holy water into our hands for our mouths and heads, and he offered us something to eat.

We were alone in the third room we visited. Our guide stood with us at the door and explained the chamber’s purpose and the iconography on the altar, including a sitting statue of Padmasambhava. Then he invited us to sit quietly on the floor and meditate a while about where we were and what we were seeing and experiencing.

I became conscious of the complete silence of our situation in the clouds thousands of feet up on the side of a mountain deep in the Himalayas.

Cross-legged comfortably on a mat, feet pointed in respectfully, I first thought what a difference it made to be looking at the icons without the encumbrance of a camera. I became conscious of the complete silence of our situation in the clouds thousands of feet up on the side of a mountain deep in the Himalayas.

As I listened to the silence and stared into the fierce eyes of one of the statues my mind shifted abruptly; into my head came the memory of my mother who passed away 34 years ago, and I thought how much she, a Buddhist at heart, would have wanted to visit this remarkable holy shrine. Just then a bird trilled loudly from the ledge of an open window right behind me, and I imagined it was my mother’s way of telling me that she heard me, and that she was with me in this special place.

It is not uncommon for people to have some kind of spiritual experience at Taktsang, Bill Jones, our expedition leader, told me after we had left the monastery. Bill has led groups to Bhutan more than a hundred times, taking perhaps a thousand people up to the shrine. “I can’t tell you how many people have told me that something happened to them spiritually up there,” he said when I told him my story about the bird and thoughts of my mother. 

I also learned that the bird that had interrupted my reverie was a rufous-breasted accentor (Prunella strophiata), a common resident throughout the Himalayas. (You can listen to its song here.)

The two-hour stroll up the mountain to Taktsang is through forests of rhododendron and pines, with many birds and smaller animals to be enjoyed. Photograph by David Braun.

Birds are abundant in Bhutan. Everywhere we went we saw crows on houses and monasteries. We learned that schools had been relocated and electricity cables buried to make wetlands safe for the black-necked cranes (Grus nigricollis) that migrate from the Tibetan Plateau, where they breed in the summer. 

To make this annual journey, the cranes must fly through extremely harsh conditions over the world’s highest mountains. Residents of  Phobjikha say they see the birds circle Gangteng Monastery three times when they arrive at the valley’s marshes for the winter, and three times again when they begin their return. It’s one more spiritual connection between the people and wildlife of Bhutan.

Led by the royal family, the government has committed to protecting Phobjikha Valley for the cranes, and also to keeping more than half of the rest of the country as natural forest. Wildlife corridors have also been set aside for elephants, tigers, leopards, and all the animals smaller than them, to be able to migrate freely between national parks in both Bhutan and neighboring India.

Surrounded entirely by China and India, the two most populous nations on Earth, Bhutan’s isolation and its ancient spirituality have enabled the country to hang on to much of its culture and natural heritage.

But as the country continues to modernize and open to the world, Bhutan will be challenged to stay this way. The teachings brought to Taktsang by Padmasambhava 1,300 years ago include belief in the power and value of nature. Keeping the faith might be what empowers the country to choose the right way forward.

National Geographic President and CEO Gary Knell spins prayer wheels prior to hiking to the Tiger’s Nest monastery. Photograph by David Braun.

CRE member Keith Clarke (left) and David Braun pause for a photo en route to Tiger’s Nest. We did not know anything about the beautiful dog sitting serenely next to us. Photograph courtesy of David Braun.

National Geographic President and CEO Gary Knell led the Committee for Research and Exploration on a tour of the Himalayan kingdom to meet with grantees, listen to briefings from government officials and environment groups, and observe science, exploration, and conservation in the field. The delegation visited dzongs and other religious places,  wildlife sites, and  had an audience with King Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck. The Society has funded nearly two dozen research projects in Bhutan, two of which were active at the time of the National Geographic visit.  National Geographic published its first article about Bhutan in 1914: a compelling account of explorations and surveys by John Claude White, a British Raj administrator and an accomplished amateur photographer. Read (and enjoy the 100-year-old photos) here: Castles in the Air: Experiences and Journeys in Unknown Bhutan

Taktsang is built on a series of ledges on near vertical rock cliffs thousands of feet above Paro. The monastery is some 10,000 feet above sea level. Photograph by David Braun.

#bhutan #taktshang monastery #tiger’s nest #paro #world heritage site #national geographic #guru rinpoche #padmasambhava #buddhism #prayer flags #himalayas #birds