#tmaposting

My dude, come here for a second-

This is a workplace in England. It is Tetley. It is PG Tips. It is yorkshire gold.

It is NOT ginger hibiscus or green tea or fuscia with parma violets. it is a cuppa. It is a regular ass cuppa tea with some milk in it. Maybe some sugar.

Serving unprompted herbal tea to a coworker is a violent act of hatred. It is a decree of warfare.

The point of Dead Horse is that The Hunt is about the process, not the ending. It stops being a hunt once the hunting ends, which means victory is never as satisfying as you want it to be. Daisy's least favorite part of tracking criminals was arresting them, and the ritual of The Hunt has no ending. The Everchase is an eternal search with no destination.

This is also the episode where we see that Basira is living as a hunter with no satisfying endings. She spent weeks chasing leads from Elias that brought her nothing, and more importantly, this is the episode where we see that she's finally been reunited with the partner she's been longing for, but she isn't satisfied by it. She finally reaches the end of her chase and finds Daisy, but Daisy isn't what she wants her to be when she finds her.

In season 5, Basira's torment after the Change is to chase Daisy eternally, and when she catches her, she has to kill her because she's too far gone to The Hunt. There's nothing at the end of Basira's search but misery. But in season 4, it's the opposite. Basira searches for a Daisy, searches for a strong ally she can trust, but when she finds her partner again, she's no good because she's too human.

Different kinds of danger strike different chords from the imagination. Even in real life different kinds of danger produce different kinds of fear. There may come a point at which fear is so great that such distinctions vanish, but that is another matter. There is a fear which is twin sister to awe, such as a man in war-time feels when he first comes within sound of the guns; there is a fear which is twin sister to disgust, such as a man feels on finding a snake or scorpion in his bedroom. There are taut, quivering fears (for one split second hardly distinguishable from a kind of pleasurable thrill) that a man may feel on a dangerous horse or a dangerous sea; and again, dead, squashed, flattened, numbing fears, as when we think we have cancer or cholera. There are also fears which are not of danger at all: like the fear of some large and hideous, though innocuous, insect or the fear of a ghost. All this, even in real life. But in imagination, where the fear does not rise to abject terror and is not discharged in action, the qualitative difference is much stronger. * CS Lewis, "On Stories"

The essay gives giants and pirates as examples of types of danger whose fictional effect is qualitatively different from other sources of equally bad danger. He also talks about "the enormous difference between being shut out and being shut in", citing a scene in First Men in the Moon where a character is almost shut out on the Moon during the night.

'Over me, around me, closing in on me, embracing me ever nearer was the Eternal...the infinite and final Night of space.' That is the idea which has kept you enthralled. But if we were concerned only with the question whether Mr Bedford will live or freeze, that idea is quite beside the purpose. You can die of cold between Russian Poland and new Poland, just as well as by going to the Moon, and the pain will be equal. For the purpose of killing Mr Bedford ' the infinite and final Night of space' is almost entirely otiose: what is by cosmic standards an infinitesimal change of temperature is sufficient to kill a man and absolute zero can do no more. That airless outer darkness is important not for what it can do to Bedford but for what it does to us: to trouble us with Pascal's old fear of those eternal silences which have gnawed at so much religious faith and shattered so many humanistic hopes: to evoke with them and thorough them all our racial and childish memories of exclusion and desolation: to present, in fact, as an intuition one permanent aspect of human experience.