#canadian countryside

[twowitchescottage]

Road to Avonlea TV Series (1990–1996)

Season 1, ep. 3

[liminalghosts]

Jeff Wizniak

[rabbitcruiser]

Shades of Green

What do you think about my pic?  

[something-feral]

Tewkesbury (04.09.23)

[jennyblueskies]

Meandering roads in the countryside… blessed to have rolling hills not far away from these flat flat prairies.

[thecrazyphantom]

Funny little post here

Teruteru: "In my house, we didn't have Baths inside the building. So we'd have to go to a separate building."

Fuyuhiko: "In my country, we call that; Poor."

[motelpearl]

[lifewithaview]

Lisa Langlois in Heartland (2007) Coming Home

S1E1

Noted horse whisperer, Marion Fleming and her daughter, have a truck accident during the rescue of an abused horse named Spartan. Marion is killed, Amy wakes up in the hospital, and the family is left with a troubled ranch to run if they wish to carry on Marion's legacy. Marion's father pitches in. Amy's older sister, Lou returns from New York, but must overcome Amy's resentment over Lou's abandoning her roots. Meanwhile, it becomes apparent that Marion was rescuing more than just horses when Ty, a young man with a criminal record shows up to serve his probation period on the ranch. Soon Lou discovers that the family's financial woes may be more serious than anyone knew. Troubled horses, troubled teens and troubled times, can it all work out in Canada's heartland?

[fancygirlplays]

[neechees]

How is the cult from Midsommer white supremacist? Because they are swedish and borrow from paganism? The nazis appropriated Norse culture, they even misused different runes and symbols, and Scandinavia is one of the most tolerant regions in Europe.

There's Nazi imagery throughout the film, & the fact that all the poc die first is no mistake. Ari Aster himself has said that the Harga are White Supremacists:

Defying an outdated horror trope, Aster does not kill off Josh (William Jackson Harper) — the only black character for miles — first. As Aster points out, though, the Hårga are racist, a callback to “a part of Swedish history and European history,” and all of the “outsiders” or “new blood” recruited for mating are purposely white.

“He’s thrown away in a way that the other members of the main cast are not," Aster notes. “And that is because these people have no further use for him.”

The Harga, when not inbreeding with each other, go out and groom new members to either 1. Be sacrified or 2. Introduce new genes by manipulating people into the cult or drugging & raping them (what they did to Dani & Christian), & they ONLY pick white people for this. There are no nonwhite Harga & that's not an accident.

The script also makes it crystal clear that the nonwhite couple were specifically chosen (bc they are not white) & brought there to be sacrificed & were never going to live. The member that brought the nonwhite couple displays hatred & malice towards them when they're not looking, but doesn't do this with the other white outsiders

(Ingemar is the Harga that brought Connie & Simon, the nonwhite couple). Connie & Simon didn't do anything wrong, they didn't do anything outright to insult the Harga. The only thing they did was be shocked about seeing the ritual suicide & express desire to leave (and they weren't the only ones who did this, Dani also did). And yet they were some of the first to die.

Even the visuals-- the Harga wear all White, it's always in blinding daylight. Whiteness is a GLARING theme. There's also foreshadowing early on in the film, where a book titled "The secret Nazi language of the Uthark" featured in Christian's room just before they go to Sweden.

There's also other Nazi ideology present within the Harga, such as the strict gender roles (the women all wear dresses & cook & clean & care for the children together but the men butcher the bear together), eugenics & ableism (the elderly are killed off at a certain age because they see disability & needing to be cared for as an elder "shameful", which is what one Harga states at the ritual suicide scene, & of course killing off the nonwhite characters), the "return to tradition" ideology (there are NO modern technology in the community, & it's in the countryside).

You see a cult full of ONLY White people, using Norse paganism (something VERY popular with Nazis) in an isolated area, who routinely murder poc, don't intermix with poc, kill off their elderly, Dani (the blonde, light eyed white girl) is praised for her beauty & made their May queen by the Harga, with strict gender roles, & this film was made by a JEWISH MAN to show the Harga as the bad guys, & you don't have a hunch that the Harga are maybe supposed to be white supremacists/nazis? That doesn't raise any red flags for you?

& let's not forget how Scandanavia committed genocide against the Saami, the Indigenous population who were there for hundreds of years before anyone else. That's a little off topic, but as a First Nations Canadian I aint gunna let that just go unacknowledged. Scandanavia has a white supremacy problem too, & Ari Aster is right for pointing it out

[twowitchescottage]

Road to Avonlea TV Series (1990–1996)

Season 1, ep. 2

[liminalghosts]

Jeff Wizniak

[rabbitcruiser]

Rising

What do you think about my pic?  

[barbucomedie]

Pieper M1893 Revolver Carbine from the United Mexican States dated to the 19th Century on display at the National Museum of History in Mexico City, Mexico

The Belgian gunsmith, Henri Pieper, developed the weapon and began to supply it to the Mexican government under the Dictator President Porfirio Díaz. The weapons were supplied to the Rurales, rural mounted police that were used to suppress unrest in the Mexican countryside prior to the Mexican Revolution in 1910.

The Rurales were advertised as an effective and often ruthless force similar the Canadian Mounties and Texan Rangers. Indeed their uniforms and equipment were selected to seperate them from the Federal Army. However they were too few in number to form an effective force outside of Mexico City.

Photographs taken by myself 2024

[mariacallous]

The patriarch of a right-wing Canadian family of 11 had had just about enough of gay people in his country. “We didn't feel safe for our children there in the future anymore,” father Arend Feenstra told Russian media. “There's a lot of left-wing ideology, LGBTQ, trans, just a lot of things that we don't agree with that they teach there now, and we wanted to get away from that for our children.”

Yeah, if there’s one place that’s just not safe for kids, it’s Canada. Russia would be soooo much safer. 

So Arend (and wife Anneesa) sold everything they had to move to sunny Russia and raise eight of their nine kids with “orthodox” values. They also gladly took donations on their social media platform from fellow right-wingers, all so they could live in Vladimir Putin’s wonderland. Russian officials assured them that they would work with them to get them established, and even help them get a farm. They did all of this just three weeks ago; long story short, they lived happily ever after. 

Except they didn’t. 

First, according to the family, the Russian bank where they moved the proceeds from selling their farm and belongings? It immediately froze their assets. The amount of money seemed suspicious, Arend states in a Feb. 9 video. I guess it would, since so many Russians outside of Putin’s circle are dirt poor. As a result, the family didn’t have money to live on—apparently those nice Russian officials offering to help them had disappeared.

Since no one in the family speaks Russian, they’ve also had a bear of a time trying to argue for their money—because Russia doesn’t require any bank, or any business, to hire English translators. In the meantime, they discovered that Russia is a pretty damn miserable place to be right now.

TikTok user Ukrainian.Networking translated a Russian Federation Reported Media story in a snarky post. 

The Russian reporter noted that Anneesa spoke her mind in a since-deleted video on the family’s “Countryside Acres” YouTube channel.

"I'm very disappointed in this country at this point. I'm ready to jump on a plane and get out of here. We've hit the first snag where you have to engage logic in this country and it's very, very frustrating."

Hoooo boy. They just arrived and already she’s insulted Russia. Now, I’m not saying Russia doesn’t have freedom of the press, but it’s really just freedom to praise Putin and the country he controls. Anything that resembles criticism in Russia is NOT taken as kindly as it is in our godless Western dystopias. I’m also not suggesting that Russian officials paid the family a visit to remind them of where they are, but I will point out that Arendquickly posted an apology video to the Countryside Acres channel, saying that his wife misspoke and they’d deleted the video. 

In that video, he reiterated that no, Russia is really, really great (subtext: “Please don’t push me out of a window”) and he spoke of his hope to resolve the issue with the bank. Commenters weren’t so sure, or kind. They pointed out that the bank will likely never release their funds and it is more likely that he will be recognized as a foreign agent.

At this point, I’m not sure the Countryside Acres farming gig is going to work out. Patriarch Arend should have agreed to be used as a tool for Russian state media. I mean, if you are going to be a Russian Asset, might as well go all-in. 

I’m willing to bet that living in a country that grants gay people basic civil rights might not be looking so bad now. I was wondering if the family is desperately trying to split, so I looked up how difficult it is to leave Russia. According to the BBC, you can leave “as long as you have money and have not been called up to the army.” 

Even if only for his kids’ sakes, let’s hope Arend’s only lost his money.

And I’ll end with this charming reprise of a German eurodisco tribute to Moscow, originally released in 1979. (English lyrics here)

“Welcome to Moscow!” At least the song is catchy.

Comment Award goes to Laughing Gravy: “I’ll bet back home they used to whine about immigrants who don’t know the language, who have no money, who expect the government to hand them a house and a job, and who complain when they don’t get everything they want.”

[catboyfics]

Ghost of a Memory [part I]

I have finished part 1! This is more of an introductory chapter, and is much shorter than the others will be. Once I have part 2 finished, it will be posted. I will keep the same taglist, unless you ask me to remove you. I will also add people onto the taglist for the next part, just leave a comment :>

𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

𝑭𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶𝑴: COD

𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮: Ghost x m!reader

𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑹𝑬 & 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: hurt/comfort; male reader; violence, guns, death (not in this part), allusions to torture,

𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑺: 1.7k

You could feel the quick rotations of the helicopter blades as you flew over the English countryside, bringing you to your new base. You were hardly expecting to stay long, you had a poor track record with that ever since you had become a soldier. Few places but the SAS would willingly take you because of your aggressive and destructive fighting style. Really, it was a miracle you were still a part of the army, and had even managed to stay in the special forces.

You’d used to be a part of the SRR – they did all of the reconnaissance and it was work that fit you well – but you ended up being transferred to the SAS after ‘The Incident’, at your request. Regaining your footing after all that had happened was… difficult, but you managed. You always managed.

You had been transferred to 19 Troop, specializing in mountain operations. You were usually away, helping international troops with their own missions. You spent a good amount of your time in Russia and Canada, before you were abruptly called back at the end of your mission. As soon as the helicopter had touched back down on the ground, you were sent to your Captain’s office. You knew your captain quite well as you saw him quite often.

“(l/n).” He called out seriously, looking at you with disappointment. You were a bit worried for a moment. Was this finally the point that the Special Forces would boot you out? You snapped out of your thoughts when he spoke again. “An international task force has heard about your skills and is looking to recruit you.”

That was… surprising. Your captain could clearly tell, because he took one look at you and spoke again. “I’ll give you until after dinner to think about it. It’s relatively urgent.”

You nodded strictly, saluting to him before turning and leaving the room. It wasn’t the first time you had been invited to join an international force, but they very rarely kept you around. Said you were too much of a liability. You wondered if it was even worth the effort. You were happy enough with what you were doing in 19 Troop, and the SAS was good to you. Then again, there wasn’t really anywhere to go from there if you wanted to stay on the field. You could become an officer, but that would defeat the point of you joining the SAS.

You didn’t want to think about it too hard, though. You did still have until dinner, and you wanted to make good use of that time. Your exit from Canada had been abrupt and disruptive. You weren’t exactly in the middle of an operation with the crew, but you were starting to plan for one. You had been a vital part of their plans, and you felt guilty for leaving them with an empty space. You hoped what you had trained them would help them through it, though you knew the Canadian Special Forces would be able to manage.

You took your time sorting through the belongings you had brought back, taking care to choose what you really needed to keep. You had spent more time with the Canadian soldiers than you thought you would, and they made a good impression on you. As much as you hated to admit it, you would miss them. You weren’t one for sentimentality, though, not after what had happened what seemed like so long ago.

You were snapped out of your memories when you felt the helicopter starting to descend. This was it, then. You mentally steeled yourself to meet your new team, a team you would only end up leaving after they remove you.

It was still a bit of a wait after the helicopter started its descent and eventually landed, though, and you had some time to yourself. You hated when that happened. It always led to thoughts about what happened that night. That night, you had seen unforgivable horrors. Atrocities, carnal sin. It made you want to purge the world of that evil yourself.

You ripped yourself from your thoughts, tearing a hole in the horrible memories before you were consumed entirely by them. It was a fight to get yourself back into service after what happened. Lucky you were a good actor.

You forced yourself to think of the only thing that could distract you from your memories: something worse. The force you were joining was infamous, though very little information was released about it. Task Force 141. You felt sweat gather in your palms as the helicopter approached their main base. You didn’t think you were particularly special yourself, and you wondered why you had been picked to join some of the best special OPs in the world. Apparently there was another SAS operative, maybe you'd be able to get along with him.

You sucked in a breath as the helicopter landed on the soft pad, grabbing the duffel bag you’d brought with you and standing up from the seat. It wasn’t a very comfortable seat, and your legs rejoiced to finally get up after the two-something-hours that you’d been sitting down.

The doors on the sides of the helicopter opened and you let yourself fall out, comfortably landing on your feet. You’d gotten very used to getting out of the helicopters easily, and the motion had become very slick. You still carried yourself like an SRR operative, despite your transfer. It was a habit you’d never broken.

As you walked towards the large concrete building, you saw a man standing there. You figured he was the captain of the task force. If you remembered correctly, he was called Captain Price. You switched your trajectory to him, walking with firm steps as you breezed through the air.

As you approached him, you stopped stiffly and saluted. In a loud voice, you announced “Sergeant (l/n), sir!”

You heard the man chuckle, and you almost felt self conscious until he spoke casually. “At ease, soldier. I’m Captain Price, I’m the captain of Task Force 141.” He announced, speaking in a calm voice. “I’m the one who requested you be transferred here. Thank you for coming.”

You nodded, letting your hand fall from its position at your forehead. You looked around, expecting to see some of your superior officers and other soldiers, but there was no one there. You frowned, wondering why, and the captain seemed to pick up on your confusion.

“I wanted to go over a few of the things in your file. Privately.” He said firmly, looking you in the eye before smiling gently. Those words sent chills down your spine. You didn’t want to have to act more, but it seemed you would have no choice, so you just nodded agreeably as he turned around and started to walk to the building beside you.

You made your way through the twisting halls of the base, looking at the room numbers, though they didn’t suggest much. You had passed by a few busy gyms, and a canteen. It seemed surprisingly busy for a task force. Busier than you were used to. You weren’t a huge fan of working in large teams. 

You were eventually brought to a large meeting room with a table and a plethora of empty chairs. At one end of the table, there was a large screen.  You took a seat, having another look around the room but finding nothing of note. Finally, the captain spoke up. You had been preparing for this.

“So, soldier, I want to make sure that you’re the right fit for this team. I don’t want any disasters happening because of your trauma.” He said sternly, getting straight into it. At least he didn’t bother with small talk.

“You don’t need to worry about that.” You said coldly, looking him in the eye as you answered. “I’ve already had a psychological evaluation done by a psychiatrist, and she said I was fine to go back out in the field.”

Price shot back almost immediately, like he had dealt with others like you. Maybe this team wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.

“That doesn’t mean you’re fine to go back out into this field. I’m sure you’ve been briefed on what Task Force 141 covers.”

“I have, and it’s nothing I’ve not done before.” You explained coldly, going back through the motions. It had been a while since you had to put on this act. Before Price could get another word in, you spoke up.

“Trust me, Captain. A little bit of torture isn’t gonna do much to an agent of the SRR. I’ve been trained for much worse.”

The man looked like he wanted to fight back, say something to make you break, but you were completely right. SRR operatives had the most interrogation training out of all the other corps in the British Armed Forces.

“Alright. If you say so. If you’re struggling, though, there’s another guy who’s been through the same thing as you. He can help you.” The man said, though you couldn’t tell if it was more for his own peace of mind or yours. You only scoffed.

“I’ll be sure to stay away from him, then.” You mumbled, rolling your eyes when the captain looked at you with confusion. “People who have been through that aren’t usually very fun to be around. And anyways, no one can help me except for the Rileys, and they’re all dead.”

That shocked Price. He knew Simon Riley was famous as a cold blooded murderer, but as someone who offered help? He almost wanted to say you were too far gone then and there, but there was an edge to your voice he’d rarely seen before.

You didn’t want to stay much longer. The room was plain and the conversation brought up bad memories. You were great at hiding things, but not so much hiding from things. That’s why, instead of hiding from your past, you were hunting its ghosts. Hunting for the last traces of that damned Riley family. Hunting for salvation.

Salvation came at a great price. A price that had already been long since paid.

@imasimpsowhat06

Here is Part II

taglist:

@zyonsay

@cptg00s3

@redactahoe

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