#Tidal Energy Projects

[xtruss]

28-Ton, 1.2-Megawatt Tidal Kite Is Now Exporting Power To The Grid

— By Loz Blain | February 11, 2024 | NewAtlas.Com

The 39-Foot Wingspan of the Dragon 12, Being Towed Out for Sub-Surface Deployment. Minesto

Minesto's fully operational Dragon 12 looks like some sort of futuristic military drone – but it behaves remarkably like a kite underwater. It uses lift generated by tidal flows to fly patterns faster than the currents, harvesting renewable energy.

Solar energy is the bedrock of most renewable energy grid plans – but lunar energy is even more predictable, and a number of different companies are working to commercialize energy generated from the regular inflows and outflows of the tides.

One we've completely missed is Minesto, which is taking a very different and remarkably dynamic approach compared to most. Where devices like Orbital's O2 tidal turbine more or less just sit there in the water harvesting energy from tidal currents, Minesto's Dragon series are anchored to the sea bed, and fly around like kites, treating the currents like wind.

Minesto's Deep Green Technology – Unlocking Renewable Baseload Power

Just as land-based wind energy kites fly in figure 8 patterns to accelerate themselves faster than the wind, so does the Dragon underwater. This, says Minesto, lets the Dragon pull more energy from a given tidal current than other designs – and it also changes the economic equations for relevant sites, making slower tidal flows worth exploiting.

These are by no means small kites – the Dragon 12 needs to be disassembled to fit in a shipping container. It rocks a monster 12-meter (39-ft) wingspan, and weighs no less than 28 tons. But compared to other offshore power options like wind turbines, it's an absolute minnow, and extremely easy to install using a single smallish boat and a sea bed tether.

As with any renewable energy project, the key figure here is LCoE (levelized cost of energy) – so what's it gonna cost? Well, back in 2017, Minesto projected about US$108/MWh once its first hundred megawatts of capacity are installed – with costs falling thereafter as low as $54/MWh.

The Minesto Team Poses with the 1.2 Megawatt Dragon 12. Minesto

For an unfair comparison, Orbital has claimed it's hoping for an LCoE less than $253/MWh for its very first O2 tidal turbine, a figure that'll drop with scale, and fixed-bottom offshore wind projects in 2022 had an estimated average LCoE around $89/MWh in 2022, according to the US DoE.

The Dragon 12, like other tidal devices, will be more effective in some places than others – and Denmark's Faroe Islands, an archipelago in the chilly North Atlantic between Scotland and Iceland, offer ideal conditions. Home to about 55,000 people and more than a million Puffins, the Faroe Islands funnel tidal currents through a number of slim channels. This accelerates the water significantly, and thus increases the energy that devices like the Dragon 12 can harvest.

The Narrow Channels Between the Faroe Islands Accelerate Tidal Flows, Creating an Ideal Location For Tidal Energy Projects. Minesto

That's where the first Dragon has been deployed, and on Friday, it was connected to the local power grid to begin delivering energy.

"This is a big day for Minesto," said Dr Martin Edlund, CEO of Minesto, in a press release. "We have reached the most significant milestone in the history of the company by producing electricity to the grid with our mega-watt scale powerplant. We are both proud and happy and more than ever look forward to the journey ahead ... The competitiveness of the Dragon 12 is straight to the point; it's powerful, cost-effective and feeds predictable electricity to the grid."

— Loz Blain has been one of our most versatile contributors since 2007, and has since proven himself as a photographer, videographer, presenter, producer and podcast engineer, as well as a senior features writer. Joining the team as a motorcycle specialist, he's covered just about everything for New Atlas, concentrating lately on Clean Energy, AI, Humanoid Robotics, Next-Gen Aircraft, and the odd bit of Music and Automotive.

[lovelyzzzz777]

AstroRevelations Vol. IX – The 8th House Mystique 🦂🖤

(the place where your soul dies and is reborn, again and again)

🔮 Sun in 8th house – You don’t just exist, you transform. Your identity is tied to intensity, secrets, and emotional depth. People sense your magnetism before they even know your name.

🌙 Moon in 8th house – You feel in layers. Emotional safety isn’t given, it’s earned. Your intuition is razor sharp, and your moods are tidal waves under a calm surface.

🧠 Mercury in 8th house – Your words can expose, seduce, or destroy. You think in codes, speak in double meanings, and crave deep, taboo conversations.

💋 Venus in 8th house – Love isn’t casual here. You attract obsessive energies, and relationships change you forever. There’s something irresistible and dangerous about your charm.

🔥 Mars in 8th house – You move with intensity. Sexual energy runs deep, and your desires are often hidden, powerful, and consuming. You don’t start wars—but you finish them.

📈 Jupiter in 8th house – Growth comes through loss, depth, and surrender. You’re expansive when you allow yourself to transform. Others may gift you wealth or wisdom.

🪨 Saturn in 8th house – Trust doesn’t come easy. Life may have taught you to protect what’s most vulnerable. But your power lies in your resilience and ability to rebuild from the ruins.

🌌 Uranus in 8th house – You change suddenly, emotionally and spiritually. Craving freedom but attracting intensity, your relationships can be electric, unstable, unforgettable.

🧿 Neptune in 8th house – You merge with others on a soul level. Psychic bonds, illusions in love, and a mystic pull toward what can’t be explained. Watch your boundaries.

☠️ Pluto in 8th house – This is home for Pluto. Death, power, sex, rebirth—this is your native language. You’re a living transformation. Others project their shadows onto you, but you were born to carry them.

🖤 8th house placements aren’t “easy”—but they’re alchemical. You’re not here for the surface. You’re here to rise from ashes, and turn pain into gold.

[bamfkeeper]

Missions Suck.

RQ: 'Since you’re open to requests, I have some ideas that you’ll hopefully enjoy writing, this being the first. The idea is that Kurt is gone on a mission, of which is taking longer than expected, and as such the bamfs and yourself miss him a lot and are anxious without him. So, you and the bamfs organize a little surprise for Kurt when he returns, and of course, a lot of mischievous bamf antics too, along with a tidal wave of them crashing down in Kurt when he returns lol. Just fluffy bamf stuff, along with some romantic kisses and such to Kurt since the reader missed him. Also, take your time with writing anything; burnout is awful so take all the time you need with whatever you write 💙' - @hulkingharbor

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader

Warnings: None <3 .. WC: 3.1k

A/N: I tried to write more detail than my usual works, so I hope that shows ;; I love any scenario with the bamfs, I was really happy to write this one <3

It had been several days since Kurt and the team embarked on a significant mission, leaving you behind at the mansion with the mischievous bamfs. The waiting seemed interminable, each hour stretching into eternity as you anxiously anticipated their return. Initially, you had anticipated a lengthy mission, given that their destination was clear across the country. However, you had reasoned that the team's advanced jet would facilitate a relatively swift journey. Despite this logical assumption, their absence extended far beyond your expectations, each passing day amplifying your concern and restlessness.

As time wore on, you couldn't help but notice a parallel between your own growing unease and the increasingly erratic behavior of the bamfs. These impish creatures, usually a source of playful chaos, seemed to be mirroring your mounting anxiety. With each day that ticked by without word from Kurt and the team, the bamfs' antics escalated in both frequency and audacity. Their usual pranks and mischief-making took on a new intensity, as if they too were feeling the strain of the prolonged separation from their teleporting brethren.

You found yourself constantly torn between amusement at the bamfs' increasingly elaborate hijinks and genuine worry about the state of disarray they were leaving the mansion in. It was clear that their escalating troublemaking was a direct result of their own anxiety and boredom in Kurt's absence. As you attempted to maintain order and keep the bamfs in check, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something must have gone awry with the mission to cause such an extended delay.

Those mischievous little blue creatures hadn't intended to create additional work for you, but their overwhelming anxieties were proving difficult to manage. Their deep attachment to Kurt had left them feeling lost and restless, causing their typically playful behavior to escalate into something more chaotic. Even for someone as patient and understanding as you, their antics were beginning to push the boundaries of what you could handle.

Bamfs, by their very nature, were creatures of boundless energy and enthusiasm. Their penchant for play and their constant scampering about were endearing traits, but they also came with considerable drawbacks. Wherever the blue imps went, a trail of disarray and mess inevitably followed in their wake. You had gone to great lengths to alleviate their stress and channel their energies in more constructive ways.

Your efforts were nurturing, as that was all you could think to do - you'd introduced a wide array of activities designed to engage their curious minds and active bodies. From art projects that allowed them to express their creativity through painting, to an assortment of toys meant to captivate their attention, and even challenging puzzles to stimulate their intellect. However, the bamfs' short attention spans and seemingly insatiable need for novelty meant that these diversions were often short-lived.

They would either master the tasks too quickly, their natural aptitude for mischief allowing them to breeze through what you had hoped would occupy them for hours, or they would simply lose interest, their restless spirits already seeking the next source of excitement.

Kurt's continued absence was palpable, and its effects were evident in the demeanor of the bamfs. These small creatures were not only still visibly anxious but also profoundly sad. Their usually vibrant yellow eyes had taken on a somber appearance, wide and glossy with unshed tears. The depth of their distress was such that some of them appeared too melancholy even to find solace in sleep. As you gently guided them towards their resting places, their movements were slow and labored, a stark contrast to their usual energetic behavior. Their tails, typically held high and swaying with life, now dragged listlessly behind them, creating a poignant visual representation of their emotional state. Observing their profound sadness, you felt a deep ache in your heart. The sight of these usually cheerful creatures so utterly dejected hurt your heart terribly.

"It's going to be okay... I know you miss him terribly. He'll be back soon, I promise you that. Kurt wouldn't leave you little rascals behind for long," you hummed softly, your voice gentle and soothing as you tried to comfort them. You spoke in a calm, reassuring tone, hoping your words would help ease their distress. Deep down, you knew that mere words couldn't fully alleviate their sadness, and you could see the lingering sorrow etched on their faces. It was clear that your attempts at consolation weren't having the desired effect.

A wave of empathy washed over you as you witnessed their dejected state. Your heart ached seeing them so forlorn and melancholy. Unable to stand their sadness any longer, you reached out and gently petted one of them, your touch conveying the comfort that words couldn't. "It's alright, little ones... I know, I know. It's sad when Kurt goes away, isn't it? I understand how much you want to be with him right now. But you have to remember, they said the mission was far too dangerous for you to join. Kurt cares about your safety above all else."

As anticipated, the bamfs reacted unfavorably to the news. These diminutive creatures had a well-known tendency to respond negatively when faced with any form of denial or refusal. Their sensitivity to disappointment was particularly evident in this instance. Consequently, you experienced a pang of guilt when you observed some of them beginning to weep, clearly longing for Kurt's presence. The sound of their tiny, mournful cries intensified your feelings of remorse, prompting you to take immediate action to console them. "There, there... it's alright... everything will be okay," you murmured in a soothing tone, your voice barely above a whisper. You delicately stroked their small heads with a tender touch, your fingers moving in slow, comforting circles. While comforting them, you carefully tucked them into the soft, warm blankets, ensuring they were snugly enveloped in the cozy fabric.

Finally, the bamfs had already settled in, their small forms nestled comfortably on the bed. With a heavy sigh, you lowered yourself onto the mattress beside them, feeling the soft give of the bedding beneath you. As you lay there, your eyes gradually drifted closed, and you felt yourself slowly slipping into slumber, surrounded by the comforting presence of the bamfs.

The absence of Kurt was hard on all of you, a void that seemed to hang in the air around you all. You couldn't help but dwell on the fact that this particular mission he was on carried more risk than usual, a thought that gnawed at the edges of your mind and left you feeling uneasy. So many thoughts ran across your mind, so many things that could go wrong. You tried to ignore them. Despite your own worries, you made a conscious effort to maintain a calm demeanor for the sake of the bamfs. You didn't want to burden them with the full extent of your concerns, so you carefully downplayed the situation, offering reassuring words and gentle smiles whenever they looked to you for comfort.

As you drifted off to sleep, your subconscious mind continued to process the day's events and your lingering anxieties. Your slumber was punctuated by brief moments of restlessness, your dreams tinged with vague unease. Despite these occasional disturbances, you managed to make it through the night.

The subsequent days were filled with the same worry. Despite your best efforts to maintain a calm demeanor for the sake of the bamfs, they possessed an innate ability to perceive your growing anxiety regarding Kurt's return. Those little things had keen intuition, which allowed them to sense your inner turmoil, even as you attempted to mask it. In Kurt's absence, the bamfs looked to you for guidance, support, and reassurance. Their bright yellow eyes, brimming with innocence and need, gazed upon you with an intensity that both touched and burdened your heart.

As the weight of responsibility settled heavily upon your shoulders, you found yourself giving a deep, weary sigh. Slowly, you sat up from the comfort of the couch, your movements betraying the emotional exhaustion you felt. Turning to face the expectant bamfs, you addressed them with a voice tinged with regret and frustration. "I'm sorry, little ones... I still haven't received any word from him," you muttered, your tone conveying the disappointment and concern that had become all too familiar in recent days.

Even as you spoke those words, a part of you knew, with a mixture of resignation and hope, that you likely wouldn't hear from Kurt until the moment he stepped through the door, returning home once again.

You were leisurely preparing a meal for yourself in the kitchen, your movements slow and deliberate as you chopped vegetables and stirred pots on the stove. Your mind had drifted into a zoned out, almost meditative state, focused solely on the rhythmic motions of cooking to distract from the anxieties you had felt the past few days. Suddenly, the sharp vibration of your phone on the counter jolted you back to full awareness, breaking through your culinary reverie. With a slight start, you reached out and grasped the device, your fingers wrapping around its familiar shape. As you lifted it to eye level, the screen illuminated, revealing a notification that made your heart beat faster. Your eyes quickly scanned the message preview, and a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you saw that it was from Kurt.

'On the way back, liebe...should be back by tonight. xo <3'

You couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief and joy wash over you. The news you had been impatiently waiting for had finally arrived – he was okay, and he would be returning home soon! Your heart swelled with excitement and anticipation. Unable to contain your enthusiasm, you found yourself instinctively beginning to tidy up the house, eager to create a welcoming atmosphere for his arrival.

As you bustled about, your gaze fell upon the bamfs, those adorable little creatures currently engrossed in whatever was playing on the television. A warm smile spread across your face as you decided to share the wonderful news with them. "Kurt's coming home tonight," you announced, your voice brimming with happiness and barely contained excitement. You paused for a moment, an idea forming in your mind. "So... why don't we work together to make this place a bit neater to welcome him? I'm sure he'd appreciate coming back to a tidy home, don't you think?"

The bamfs, upon hearing the news of Kurt's imminent return, all simultaneously broke into the biggest, most infectious grins you had ever seen. Their eyes lit up with excitement, and without a moment's hesitation, they leapt to their feet, their previous TV-induced stupor completely forgotten. It was clear that they were not only ready but eager to help, their enthusiasm matching your own. The prospect of preparing a warm welcome for Kurt had energized them.

They were all pitching in, diligently sweeping floors, wiping surfaces, and tidying up various corners of the house. To an outsider, the home might have appeared to be in a state of disarray, but you understood that there was a method to the apparent madness. The organized chaos was actually a well-oiled system in motion, each participant playing their part in the grand scheme of cleaning.

As a thoughtful gesture, you decided to bake a special German treat for Kurt to enjoy upon his return, one of his favorites. The bamfs were eager to assist in any way they could, though their help often bordered on playful interference. They showed particular interest in the baking process, their eyes widening with excitement at the sight of the mixing bowl filled with tempting batter.

As you mixed the bowl, the bamfs began squabbling over who would get the coveted privilege of licking the mixer attachments. Their enthusiasm quickly escalated, and before long, two of them were engaged in a spirited tussle on the kitchen counter. Gentle nips and acrobatic tumbles came from the pair of brawling bamfs, it was an amusing spectacle that you couldn't help but find endearing, despite the potential mess.

"Hey, hey! That's quite enough of that..." you intervened, carefully separating the two squabbling bamfs. With a patient smile, you addressed them, "You can both have some. There's plenty to go around. Now, let's sit down and behave ourselves, shall we? We just cleaned up after all." You handed them each a spoon laden with leftover batter, hoping it would satisfy their sweet tooth and curb their exuberance.

As you watched them eagerly lick their spoons, you couldn't help but let out a small sigh. The love you felt for these energetic imps was undeniable, but you had to admit that their hyperactive nature was starting to wear on you. The thought of Kurt returning home and lending a hand in managing the lively bunch brought a sense of relief.

That evening seemed to stretch on endlessly, the minutes ticking by at an agonizingly slow pace. You found yourself gathered on the couch with the blue babies, anxiously awaiting any sign of his return. The tv played something you only half paid attention to, your mind more focused on Kurt coming home than anything else. The air was thick with anticipation, and every small noise made you perk up in hope. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, there was a familiar BAMF - a sound that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. In an instant, a cloud of dark, sulfurous smoke materialized in the room, dissipating to reveal that cheeky German standing before you.

Kurt Wagner, in all his blue-furred glory, had returned at last.

He looked utterly exhausted, his posture slightly slumped and his golden eyes a bit dimmer than usual, but otherwise, he appeared to be okay, no injuries that you could see. A wave of relief washed over you, and your heart swelled with joy at the sight of him. Without a moment's hesitation, you sat up quickly, your voice filled with excitement and relief as you exclaimed, "Kurt!"

The reaction from the bamfs was instantaneous and overwhelming. Like a tidal wave of blue fur and enthusiasm, they surged forward en masse, their tiny forms blurring together in their haste. With surprising speed and coordination, they converged on Kurt, tackling him with such force that he stumbled backward, barely managing to keep his footing. In seconds, he was completely engulfed by the swarm of miniature teleporters, each one vying for the best position to snuggle as close as possible.

They climbed over each other, chirping and cooing in delight, their little hands grasping at his costume and fur. It was a heartwarming yet slightly comical sight - the tall, lean figure of Nightcrawler almost completely obscured by a writhing mass of adoring bamfs, all competing fiercely for his attention and affection. You could see his tail wagging up from the pile, which made you laugh lightly, that was all you could see of your darling boyfriend.

"Okay, okay, my turn! I missed him too!" You exclaimed with a mixture of excitement and impatience, slowly but determinedly wiggling your way into the welcoming pile of bodies until you finally found him. As your eyes met his, a warm smile spread across his face, his sharp fangs peeking out endearingly from beneath his upper lip.

"Liebe...oh, how I've missed you..." he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. In one swift motion, he enveloped you in his strong arms, pulling you close against his chest in a tight, all-encompassing embrace. You felt him bury his face in your hair, inhaling deeply as if trying to memorize your scent all over again. The weariness in his movements was extremely noticeable; you could sense how utterly exhausted he was, yet there was an unmistakable joy radiating from him at finally being home.

You pulled back just enough to kiss him, your lips meeting his gently, lovingly, tenderly. The softness of his lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and you both savored the precious moment of reconnection. Time seemed to stand still as you basked in the warmth of each other's embrace, your hearts beating in perfect synchronization. As the seconds ticked by, the initial gentleness of your kiss gradually transformed into something more intense and passionate. You felt a growing urgency in his touch, a desperate need to be closer to you after your time apart. His hands gripping your hips with increased fervor, pulling you closer against him. The kiss deepened, his tongue seeking entrance, which you gladly granted.

As your tongues danced and explored, the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in this bubble of passion and desire. Just as you were losing yourself completely in the moment, a small, unexpected chirp pierced through the haze of your passion. One of the bamfs had inadvertently interrupted your intimate moment. The sudden sound startled you both, effectively breaking the spell that had enveloped you. Reluctantly, he pulled back, his eyes still clouded with desire but now tinged with a hint of embarrassment at getting a bit too carried away.

"Ach...apologies, liebling...I...I just missed you so much..." he murmured, his accent thicker than usual, betraying the depth of his emotions. His golden eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of love, longing, and a touch of sheepishness at his loss of control. Despite the interruption, the air between you still crackled with unresolved tension, a testament to the strength of your connection and the depth of your feelings for each other.

"It's alright, my love," you whispered soothingly, gently squeezing his hand. "You've had such a long and tiring journey. How about we get you to bed for a little while? All the bamfs and I are absolutely thrilled to have the chance to cuddle up with you again..." Your voice was filled with warmth and affection as you spoke. You leaned in and gave him a tender, lingering kiss on the cheek, then carefully helped him to his feet. Kurt didn't hesitate to agree, gratitude evident in his weary smile. The dark circles under his eyes were a clear testament to his exhaustion, hinting at the many sleepless nights he must have endured during his time away.

"Ja, okay..." he replied with a soft smile, his golden eyes twinkling with affection. Kurt eagerly followed you to bed, his tail swaying gently behind him as he walked. He was looking forward to getting some well-deserved rest after a long mission, he’d give you all the details later. The thought of being surrounded by the love of his life - you - and his beloved bamfs filled him with a warm, comforting feeling. As he settled into bed, he could already feel the stress of the day melting away, you curled beside him and the bamfs all around. He couldn’t be any more comfortable as sleep quickly took him.

"Sleep well..." you gave him a sweet, soft kiss on the forehead, letting him nuzzle into your chest and sleep.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Image: Nightcrawler (2014) #2

[oftenwantedafton]

William Afton remembers the day he’d hung the silver paper stars from the ceiling in the long hallway at work, each strand of the decorations pressed into his outstretched hand.

He remembers pressing his mouth to yours for the first time hours later, breathless and hot, candy sweet and new.

He remembers.

a prequel to forgotten

william afton x f!reader

Explicit content, 3.3k words, new 6/6/25

ao3 link

William’s been reminded several times this week that his eldest son’s new girlfriend is coming to dinner, but the occasion has been brushed aside, lost beneath a tidal wave of other thoughts. There is so much to consider at work. The animatronics. The budget. The dwindling numbers of visitors now that the novelty of the restaurant has worn off. The books don’t lie. But he does. He has to. He can’t let anyone know that what he’s poured so much of himself into is lacking. Insufficient. Undesirable.

He forgets about the dinner, staying late at work until a phone call from his irate spouse reminds him. The excuses and protests he might otherwise have uttered die in his throat. It’s been like this often lately. Easier not to argue. Energy better spent elsewhere.

He returns home to find his family and the honored guest already seated around the table. His eyes skim over you as he greets you. Return. Return again.

He forgets a lot of details about that meal upon future retrospection. The food consumed. The conversation. Michael has brought home girls before, of course.

But none like you.

***

You kindly volunteer to help bring the dirty dishes into the kitchen, and he is quick to follow. If his wife seems surprised at this sudden offer to help with the housework, the expression goes unnoticed. He tunes out the bickering between his middle child and his youngest, letting it fade into background noise.

You move through the kitchen as if you’ve done so many times before, even though it’s your first time here. A homemaker already in the making. He feels clumsy and awkward even though he is the homeowner. He finally steps back and lets you take charge, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“So, senior year. You must be excited for graduation.”

You pause midway through scraping a plate over the wastebin. “Yes, I am. A bit nervous, though.” A self deprecating smile. How pretty that gesture is.

“College already picked out? You have a major?”

You nod. “Early Childhood Education.”

He thinks about you standing at the front of the classroom tracing alphabet letters in chalk. Bending over a student’s art project and administering praise. More children waiting for you at home. A strange little sensation of jealousy flares inside of him, but he dismisses it immediately. Absurd notion. Why should he mind you getting married? Having children? No reason to assume they’d be Michael’s. He can’t envision his eldest as a father. He’s nowhere near ready to settle down.

You, though. You’ll slide right into that parental role effortlessly.

“Where’s the dishwashing soap?”

“Oh, it’s in this cabinet here.” He steps forward, opening the door and retrieving it for you. You smile again, your fingers brushing as the exchange is made and he feels something he hasn’t in a long time. A little flutter. Moth’s wings in his chest.

“Michael told me about the restaurant. I’ve never been. It sounds interesting, though.” You finish filling the soap dispenser and push the door closed, searching for the start button.

“No? You should swing by. I’ll give you a discount.”

“I’m not very good at arcade games,” you admit ruefully.

“That’s alright. They just take practice. It’s quieter in the mornings. Maybe less pressure if you have time some weekend.”

The sound of his children arguing can no longer be ignored. He’s pulled away from you, and then shortly after that it’s time for you to leave.

He has a very difficult time sleeping that evening, but not because he’s distracted by work; he’s distracted by you.

***

Your voice comes through over the phone line clear and pure one evening, an unexpected surprise dissipating the unpleasant numbers printed on the bills he’s currently pouring over at his desk at work.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Afton, but I need a ride home. Do you think…?”

He doesn’t hesitate. He’s already rising from his seat, the phone cradled against his shoulder. “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he promises, reaching for his jacket slung over the back of his chair.

***

Seated beside you in his car, his eyes do not know where to look.

Of course he must view the road, but he is struggling to concentrate on that stretch of asphalt. Your plaid uniform skirt rests just above your knees. A thin gold chain winks in the bare patch of skin exposed above the top button of your school blouse. He cycles between turning the vent on and off, alternating between warm and cool air. He clears his throat and tugs at his shirt collar. He strokes the steering wheel and runs a palm along his thigh.

Your driveway is empty. No one is home. This is why you’d been out of options for a ride, you'd explained. Your parents are away. You don’t offer an excuse for why you’d called him instead of Michael. He doesn’t ask for one.

You make no move to get out of the car and he hesitates, then shuts off the engine.

For a time there is silence, save for the night sounds outside. Crickets. A dog barking. A car radio, suddenly loud as the vehicle approaches, then diminished again as it leaves.

It’s been a long day. He doesn’t have it in him to make pleasantries. To inquire about your schoolwork. To ask when you’re coming back over for dinner.

“Is something wrong?”

He rubs the leather key fob dangling from the ignition between his thumb and index finger. It’s a very old promotional item, from when the pizzeria had first opened, the iconic golden bear and rabbit posing with an arm around each other’s shoulders. “My business is failing,” he admits softly. “So is my marriage.” The weight pressing against his chest lifts instantly. Unburdened at last. But it’s hardly your responsibility to hear it. He’s guilty for uttering it. Guiltier still because it’s the truth.

“Tell me,” you invite, turning your body to face his, the vinyl seat creaking as you shift positions.

So he does.

As if he is giving confession, the words spill out. He does not sugar coat things. He does not hold back. Maybe it is easier to speak so candidly because you are a virtual stranger. Because you are you. You listen without interruption. You gently prod him when the conversation lulls.

When he finally finishes, you remain silent. Watching him. It’s gotten quite dark outside, but he sees the moonlight reflected in your eyes. He feels wrung out. Exhausted. Raw. But better. It has been cathartic, telling you everything.

He suddenly longs to touch you. Nothing indecent; or at least, not overly so. Just your cheek. Your hand. His own twitches and tremors with want.

“Why did you call me, and not Michael?” His throat is dry. He needs a drink so badly. He’ll grab one as soon as he gets home. It’s too late to get anything else done at work this evening. His wife will already be in bed, a book spread on her lap. Another dinner ruined. She’s used to that by now, of course. She no longer calls to discover the reason. It’s always the same. Work of some kind or the other. Never mind. She’ll feed the kids. Tidy the house. Send the children to bed. Just like she always does. An invisible wall between them when he finally climbs into bed hours later. She’ll be facing the wall. He’ll be facing the opposite one.

“I don’t know,” you respond, disturbing his grim reverie. “Maybe…maybe I knew you needed someone to talk to. A sixth sense.”

He manages a half smile. “Do you believe in that?”

“Maybe.”

The smile fades. “You barely know me.”

“I’m starting to.”

“You must think me a fool. Pathetic. Inappropriate.”

“I think none of those things. I think…” You inhale deeply. “I think life is difficult, sometimes. Things don’t always go the way we plan. And certain situations and obligations dictate our response to those unexpected changes. I think,” you conclude, “you are doing the best you can.”

“You’re too forgiving,” he murmurs. “You needn’t be so kind. I know what I am. My faults. My sins.” He heaves a mournful sigh.

“Have you thought about counseling? For the marriage, I mean. I don’t know how to help with your business, exactly. Maybe advertise more? Flyers or…?”

“I don’t think I could bring myself to repeat any of the things I’ve just said a second time. I don’t think Clara would admit them a first. So it seems we’re at an impasse.” He flicks the keychain with his thumbnail and it swings gently back and forth. “As for the other…I’m at a loss, really. For the longest time it’s been such a certainty. Solid. Reliable. Without it…I don’t know.”

He glances at you. You’re fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. He stares at your lips. Back at those uncovered knees. So many places he shouldn’t be looking. He has enough problems without adding you to them. “I trust you’ll keep all this in confidence.”

“Of course. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Even Michael,” he says.

“Even Michael,” you agree.

He sighs. “It’s getting late. You should go inside,” he rasps. He really needs that drink. “Thank you for listening.”

“Okay. Thank you for the ride.”

“Any time.”

You’re gone, and he aches.

***

An uptick in business. A corresponding surge in his mood.

Nearly all of the senior class of the private school his children attend seems to be present this evening. He’d forgotten how loud the establishment becomes when there are so many bodies occupying it. Competing in the arcade. Clamoring for more pizza.

Yet you’re no longer among your fellow classmates. You’re standing in the back hallway, a cluster of strands of glitter covered paper stars clutched in your hands. There is no room left in the dining room for them, and your suggestion that he decorate the employee restricted area seems too fun to ignore.

“I’m going to regret this,” he murmurs. “I’ll be whacking my head on these every time I come down here.”

“You don’t have to hang them if you don’t want to.”

“No, no. If I don’t do this, they’ll just wind up collecting dust somewhere. Might as well get some use out of them.” He reaches his hand out for another bit of garland, his gaze still focused on the ceiling tile. “I’m surprised you’re not with your friends. Michael,” he adds, the name tasting sour in his mouth. Disgusting to be jealous of his own offspring, but there it is.

“He’s with his friends.” You shrug. “You know how boys are.”

“I do. And I’m afraid they grow up to be men who aren’t much better. We’re all idiots,” he mutters, rewarded with a smile when his gaze returns to your face.

When the last of the stars have been hung, William stands back to admire his handiwork. “I suppose I’ll get used to them.”

“Think of them as a memento, something to cheer you up when you’re having a bad day.”

He nearly says he needs no such reminder when you’re so often in his thoughts, but he chokes the words back down in the nick of time.

“Do you need a ride home tonight?” He asks instead.

“No, I’m all set, thank you.”

He wonders if you can see the disappointment in his eyes.

***

It takes a long time for the staff to clean up after the celebration.

William assists them, shirt sleeves rolled up, gathering soiled dishes and vacuuming up confetti and reorganizing the prize counter. Little by little the restaurant empties, until it is just the owner remaining.

Or so he’d thought. His head lifts from its scrutiny of one of the dining room tables to find you hovering in the doorway.

“I thought you had a ride home. Everything okay?”

You nod, hesitating. “I felt bad. Everyone just took off. I told Mike I was going to stay to help you finish.”

“You didn’t have to do that. You don’t even work here.”

“I know.” You take a step closer, your fingers trailing along the checkerboard pattern decorating the wall.

“Well, I’m nearly finished anyway. I’ll be ready to drop you off in a few minutes.”

He works even faster now, suddenly reinvigorated. The lights are dimmed. It’s time to leave.

“I’m surprised your parents don’t mind you being out this late,” he remarks, unrolling his sleeves and slipping back into his blazer.

“It’s a Friday, remember?”

“Oh. I actually hadn’t.” He plucks his car keys from his pocket. “Ready to go?”

“Yes.”

He leads you down the hallway towards the rear exit, playfully swatting at some of the stars as he goes. It’s the most lighthearted he’s felt in awhile. Good to see the building full again. Enjoyed. He needs more of that. He needs…

“Mr. Afton?”

Your voice startles him. You’re standing beside the passenger door. The locked passenger door.

“I’m so sorry. My mind is just…” He hurriedly turns the key in the lock and pulls the door open for you. “And you needn’t be so formal. William is fine.”

He slides behind the wheel, feeling your gaze on him.

“You’re happy tonight.”

He blinks, considering. “I am. You’re right. It’s good to see the place crowded again. It’s been a long time.” He inserts the key in the ignition but doesn’t turn it yet.

“You have some glitter on you. Can I…?”

He nods, leaning back and you brush your index finger against his cheek. “Those darn stars…”

“I knew you didn’t like them.” You grin, scrubbing above one eyebrow now.

“I like them,” he argues. “But they are a bit messy.”

“Did I get any on me?”

“Let me check.” He studies your face for long moments, grateful for the seemingly innocent excuse to do so, about to declare you’ve escaped the shiny particles, but instead he lies. “You’ve got some just…there.” His thumb sweeps below your bottom lip, lightly grazing it.

He hears the sharp intake of breath; sees the movement of your lashes, a quick lift and descent, those sooty veils dropping down, down, nearly kissing your cheeks.

He presses his lips against yours, quickly, before he can rethink his decision. Warm and soft and sweet, cherry delicious, they part, welcoming him inside. He shouldn’t. He absolutely shouldn’t. But he does. His tongue slides against yours and he groans.

The sound startles you both. He draws back and you gasp.

“I apologize,” he sputters, his heart jackhammering in his chest. “I’ll take you home now.”

He’s not sorry, though. Not sorry at all.

***

William strips and enters the shower the moment he gets home. He can still taste you on his lips, on his tongue, and it’s maddening.

You hadn’t resisted. You’d wanted it, too.

He shakes his head, sending droplets of water to spatter against the shower curtain and the side of the stall. He braces a hand against the tiles in front of him. The other wraps around his cock. He has to do this. He has to, because there is no concealing this raging desire. He tugs along the hot flesh and he thinks about you on your knees in front of him, that sweet mouth open and ready. Spilling over your pink lips and tongue, painting you in white strands of his release. The fantasy image sends jets of cum against the wall of the shower. Once, twice, three times. Several more. His head bows. The water washes him clean, erases the evidence of his transgression from the tiles.

He won’t let this happen again, he vows.

***

His plan almost works. He misses the dinners you attend, avoiding you as much as possible. You do not ask for any more rides home, and he does not offer any.

Until the evening he’s about to leave work, car keys in hand, tugging open the rear entrance to find you standing there.

“What are you doing here?”

“I got into a fight with Michael. He dropped me off. I walked here. It was the closest…”

“That moron,” he spits. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just tired. Thirsty.”

“You want something to drink? I can grab you something from the soda fountain, unless you want to stop somewhere on the way home…”

It’s the most he’s spoken to you in weeks. You blink, then nod. “Okay. I’ll take a soda if you honestly don’t mind.”

He nods, reopening the door and gesturing for you to enter the building.

You follow him to the kitchen, watching him point to each flavor option before nodding agreement to Cherry Coke.

“That’s my favorite, too,” he murmurs, filling the plastic cup with ice and then soda.

He hands it to you and you murmur your gratitude, taking a long swallow. His mouth waters, watching your throat’s movements, that stray glistening droplet of the carbonated beverage highlighting your bottom lip.

“Did you want a sip?” You hold out the cup and he takes it, setting it back down on the counter behind you untouched, his car keys dropping beside it. Your eyes widen slightly as he presses closer, inhaling through his nostrils, the sound harsh and loud over the hum of the appliances in the pizzeria’s kitchen. “You’ve been avoiding me,” you say softly.

“I thought that was best. What you wanted,” he adds.

“No. That’s not what I wanted.”

He sighs a little moan. “What do you want? Hmmm?” He tucks the backs of his fingers against your cheek, lets them trail down your neck, curling over to cup your breast. He kneels down, face upturned, your fingers seeding in his hair as he lifts the hem of your skirt. He feels as if his heart might knock right out of his chest. You’re wearing the prettiest little set of panties, pale pink lace.

He presses his mouth against your mound, his breath hot, sinking through that thin layer that he removes, tugging them down and thrusting his tongue as far as he can reach, rewarded with a sound of pleasure, your hand tightening its hold. He lavs and sucks at your button, between your lips, any of that forbidden flesh he can taste. The sounds you make are exquisite; raw, filthy, little gasps of discovery that makes him certain you’ve not experienced this yet, and what a relief that is, that he doesn’t have to share this part of you. He eats you like a starving man, gnawing until at last you surrender, your knees buckling, and he feels your swollen clit pulsing in his mouth.

He ignores the ache in his knees when he rises from the linoleum, his wet mouth pressing against yours while he fumbles his pants open, eager for whatever form of release you’ll grant him.

You descend to your knees, and he groans, grabbing one of the nearby empty storage crates and slumping down on top of it. You rest your hands on his thighs, bending to take his erection in your mouth.

He presses his fist against his mouth but there is no stifling the sound that escapes, a cry of pleasure from deep within. Perfect hot, wet suction. His hips lift to fit more of his length inside your mouth. You look up at him and that’s the moment he loses control, shooting his load, grabbing a fistful of your hair and jerking your head back so he can see it pool on your tongue, white against pink.

“Swallow it,” he grates, watching with lidded eyes as you obey, your throat bobbing before you stick your tongue out again to show him it’s clear of his seed.

He doesn’t recall straightening his clothing or returning with you to the car after a quick stop in the employee restroom; much of the rest of that evening becomes a blur.

His mind wanders after he drops you off. He can still taste you on his tongue; feel your mouth on his cock. He doesn’t feel guilt for what he’s done.

He feels alive.

He fails to notice the road sign cautioning a gap in the pavement ahead moments later; doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s much, much too late.

[clownyboiclownyboi]

more headcanons, this time crash outs :)

Phil is quiet in his breaking. He takes in a sharp breath, lets it out real slow, and leaves the room with his hands shaking. How bad it is depends on how long he’s been gone. A few hours? He probably’s just had a bad day. A day or two? Okay, a creeper might’ve blown up one of his projects or he might’ve gotten injured. A week or more? Likely just found out yet another shitty thing Dream or someone else did to the kids on the server. He doesn’t even do much while he’s gone, just leaves to live in the woods his Wife inhabits and scream at the trees until he feels like he can function again.

Techno is explosive. He spends so much of his energy and time keeping himself and his emotions under wraps, so much so that when it does finally come out, it’s horrifying. One of the main reasons he keeps himself so put together is because people already look at him and see a monster, the last thing he wants is for them to hear one too, but even he needs an outlet sometimes. So he explodes. He screams at the world, throws his weapon into anything solid, anything he can make give. He tugs at his hair and takes shaky breaths and lets the emotions burst and fizzle through his chest because fuck it, if people want to make him a weapon then they deserve to be forced to witness the person they’re making it out of.

Tommy can’t break down like that anymore. He used to be loud and angry, quick to attack and even quicker to defend. Now he’s too fragile. Now his bitter words have truth to them, a truth that makes them crumble and leave all onlookers in tense, guilty silence. Now he cannot find the time or space to be left alone to cry, because his friends get so concerned the minute they haven’t seen him in more than half an hour. It’s rare he can even work up the energy or motivation to let himself feel so deeply, to let himself be angry at the world again, and people won’t leave him alone long enough for him to do anything about it.

Quackity escapes. He plays the part of the mad boss and the cruel gambling king day in and day out, so when he feels that tidal wave of life coming to drown him a thousandfold, he runs. He leaves to the most deprived parts of his nation, the places where people won’t bat an eye or say shit if they happen to see the leader of their great country buying coke or whatever escape he finds that night. He takes his purchases and heads to a small, ratty apartment he’s been renting since the start, and he escapes. The stained room is similar enough to his office back in L’manberg, even reeks of the same whiskey and bourbon, and Quackity almost takes comfort in the familiar, confusing fear that comes with being on a trip and being reminded so intimately of those days. The days when all he had to worry about was doing what his husband asked and avoiding the next drunk fit. The days when Schlatt would curl up around him at night and whisper apologies. The days when he woke up with a stiff neck because he’d fallen asleep hidden in a closet again. The days when he was a follower, not a leader, and he had someone around to tell him how to keep his head straight and walk forward no matter what. He escapes to one of the cruelest times in his life, because cruel meant simple, and he’d give anything for simple these days.

[wenella]

Zhu Yilong: 36 Years Old, An Actor's Prime

EN translation of Zhu Yilong's Elle China October 2024 Cover Issue Feature Interview by wenella

The art museum is located at the northeastern part of the island. The huge floor-to-ceiling window and the corridor create a natural picture frame. The clear sea is in full view; small islands afar float beneath the white clouds and sea gulls occasionally sweep across the sky. Zhu Yilong steps into the frame and completes this lively picture. The tires, ropes, fishing nets, and buoys that are lying silently by the pier, come alive because of his presence. His complexion is much darker than before. During this period away from the public eye, Zhu Yilong has spent time in the scorching sun and sea breeze experiencing his new role.

The sunshine, ocean, and sea breeze have shaped the Zhu Yilong we see standing before us. He has constantly given his all for every performance and role; he does it not only by changing his appearance but also seeking breakthroughs inside out by experimenting with different acting methods.

Zhu Yilong loves acting. Immersing himself in acting allows him to dispel noise and eliminate worries. Each time his acting transforms, refines, and sublimates quotidian realities of life into artistic realities, the creative process invigorates his heart. An outstanding actor can derive energy from his acting continuously and accumulate courage and perseverance from this constant cycle.

01. Away From City Life For his new film project, Zhu Yilong has been living on a small island, which is part of the Zhoushan archipelago, for the past two months. The vast sea surrounds this small island. One must temporarily abandon the convenience of city life to fathom what living is like in this oceanic wilderness. For example, food deliveries, mobile signal, and measurements of urban time such as calendars and clocks. These items are meaningless to fishermen and sea creatures. Fishermen pay attention to sunrises, sunsets, and tidal changes, as these factors impact their lifestyles. This is the rhythm of nature.

Zhu Yilong has gotten used to life without mobile signal. This has enabled him to focus on the present. “It’s good to be isolated from the world. Everyone is talking about the film and their roles. No one checks their phones. Everyone is immersed in this creative atmosphere.” Their accommodation has an open, communal space. After work, he would sit in this space and watch the sun set; the surrounding buildings would dim gradually and his heart would calm down as he listens to the rhythmic waves – feeling just like the sea beneath the moonlight, vast and quiet. Zhu Yilong may not be an extrovert, but this does not prevent him from interacting with others. Even if he only shares a few words occasionally, he enjoys the comfortable and relaxing atmosphere, just like a fish going with the flow of waves.

The life of an actor on the film set is like that of a fisherman. They work in the day and rest at night; life is orderly and follows a routine. Zhu Yilong feels that he is leading his ideal life now. If he had the luxury of taking a day off without the need to adhere to any restrictions, he would like to sleep, wake up naturally, and place a “crazy” order of food – preferably hotpot. The diet on this island has been relatively simple and monotonous. Besides, Zhu Yilong has been controlling his diet for his role for an extended period. His body fat has reached an ideal state due to his self-discipline, but this has also intensified his craving for delicious and spicy hotpot.

02. Enjoying the Moment of Epiphany Over the past two years, Zhu Yilong has received more scripts than ever. “My selection criteria differ yearly as my mood changes. It really depends on fate and the environment. If my mood resonates with a script at that moment, that’s it.”

To prepare for his new role, Zhu Yilong gradually tanned his skin and grew his hair and mustache. He also learnt free diving systematically on the set. He obtained his AOW (Advanced Open Water) diving license in Saipan as early as 2016, and showcased his diving skills when he filmed Reunion: The Sound of the Providence and Lost in the Stars. But free diving is different for him this time in Dongji Island as he needs to dive into deep waters without an oxygen tank. The main challenge of free diving is training the lungs. Beginners must learn to empty their lungs and stay underwater for a minute. Since breathing is basic human instinct, only those who have experienced this would understand how long and terrifying this minute could be. Being underwater without oxygen creates pressure on one’s body and mind. Imagine a fish that is taken out of water; it goes the same for humans. When one’s lungs are emptied for a few seconds, the diaphragm starts to spasm and the feeling of panic and near death would propel one out of the water.

“How to overcome this fear? By training, testing my limits, and telling myself to relax when my diaphragm starts to spasm,” Zhu Yilong said. When one is underwater, they are isolated from the outside world, and they can hear themselves very clearly. “The training process is like meditation. You need to use your will to force yourself to empty your brain. Once you are focused, time will pass very quickly. Now, I can complete two minutes of actions in a 9-meter-deep pool.”

To a certain extent, getting into character is like diving; both processes involve progressing from tension to relaxation. Zhu Yilong gets nervous easily whenever he prepares for a film. The more he prepares for the character, the more uneasy he becomes. “All prior work is done based on your imagination, your discussions with the crew, and your ideas of enriching the character. Before the character appears before the camera, there is absolutely no way to find out how he will turn out. You need to be in a specific setting, before a rolling camera, and suddenly one day, the moment of epiphany will strike and you get into character.” For Zhu Yilong, this process can last for several days – three to five days at the shortest, and nine to ten days at the longest. But when the moment occurs, he would feel immensely inspired and relaxed, as though embraced by warm ocean currents. There would be no need to think about other things. He just had to go with the flow and enjoy the simple pleasure of becoming his character.  

03. With Age comes Tolerance Zhu Yilong turned 36 this year, just like ELLE. Three decades. In his opinion, 36 is the prime time of an actor’s career. He is mature and energetic enough to play any character or try any genre. “The first decade in this industry involves training and learning. We had to act and accumulate experiences before we are noticed by directors. Over the past five years, I was able to leverage my experiences that I have accumulated and tried my best to create my characters. I had more opportunities to create different roles and I did not want to waste any of these opportunities that were given to me.”

Zhu Yilong is very expressive whenever he talks about acting. He said he wanted to make movies and try different genres and characters. He would love to take on more roles, but his schedule only permits him to take on two to three projects annually. Since college, Zhu Yilong has always admired Actor of a Thousand Faces - Daniel Day-Lewis. Till now, he still remembers the film My Left Foot (1989) recommended by his teacher and the moment when he saw the actor use his left foot to handle a roll of film skillfully. Subsequently, Zhu Yilong studied Daniel Day-Lewis’ films carefully, such as Gangs of New York (2002), There Will Be Blood (2007), and Lincoln (2012). He hopes that one day, his acting career would be like that of Daniel Day-Lewis’; every role that he creates would allow the audience to immerse themselves in the film and forget what he originally looked like.

For Zhu Yilong, seeking personal breakthroughs isn’t exactly daunting. This is something that can be accomplished any time. He hopes to receive roles that require a wider range of acting as that will excite him. “The greatest advantage that has come with age is my tolerance for mistakes.” Zhu Yilong said that during his first few years of filming, he was particularly afraid of making mistakes and hearing the director shout NG. He hoped that every scene could be done in one take and that he could meet the director's best imagination of the character accurately. However, he gained a better understanding of the art of acting over the past decade and gradually realized that making mistakes was perfectly normal. Most of the time, an actor's imagination of a scene does not necessarily translate into his performance. That is why actors should practise trial and error on the set and adjust their acting step by step to achieve an accurate performance. “Now, I’m no longer afraid of making mistakes. I won’t obsess over what the correct answer might be. I just think about the different possibilities and offer the director more choices.”

In a way, overcoming the fear of making mistakes demonstrates his psychological growth as an actor over an extended, arduous period. So, “does the desire to win become greater or lesser as you age?” In response, Zhu Yilong admits that his desire to win has never diminished. When he was young, his desire to win manifested on the basketball court. He wanted to score goals and points; he wanted to be better than his opponents. When he graduated and started his acting career, he wanted to do everything to the best of his ability and win the director’s approval. However, his concept of winning changed gradually after he turned 30. Winning the approval of others was no longer his priority. He sought personal breakthroughs, explored different options, and tried interesting projects. Cloudy Mountain, Lighting up the Stars, Lost in the Stars, The Volunteers: The Battle of Life and Death, Only the River Flows, Land of Broken Hearts, Dongji Island… “I choose a different genre each time I make a film as I want to test my limits.” Each time a film wraps, Zhu Yilong moves on and departs for a further destination, just like the ripples of waves that hit the shore, edging one another ahead.

**THE END** Post-translation note: Love how he is challenging himself and the boundaries of his acting. His interviews always serve as timely reminders for myself too. Do not be afraid of making mistakes. Do not make winning the approval of others your priority. Be comfortable in your own skin. Happy Monday reading. If you'd like to re-translate this, please DM me for permission + credit. Please do not repost this article. Thanks and good night.

[some-small-mercy]

Shadows in the Cave - Notes on an Incursion - Tangled Space

I’m delighted to be able to answer some of your questions. Psychic depressions are absolutely fascinating phenomena, and the most conclusive proof I’ve encountered of the mind’s primacy over ‘objective’ reality. When you see the weight of human passion and intensity quite literally deform the world around it, what further evidence do you need?

The specifics of it are still opaque, I admit, but the basic mechanism is quite simple. When a specific and self-contained strip of land (always a complete circuit, such that walking along it deposits the walker back where they began) becomes the repository of a critical mass of intense feeling from a sufficient number of people, then their collective image of the circuit becomes more real than reality, and superimposes itself over it. When they collectively agree that the strip of land is infinite, endless, and inescapable, then so shall it be - with each circuit completed, they take another step into a liminal space between the world of atoms and the world of dreams. 

The requisite weight of emotion is no small thing to organize and direct, and almost never occurs by accident. But once constructed and stabilized, depressions are really quite stable. My little community of truth-seekers has lived almost entirely inside of one for years now. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------

The Tartarus Site is a bit of an oddity. Well, everything about Nyx is odd, but Tartarus especially. Walls, cameras and armed guards around the clock to protect, what - a half-mile long loop through a rat’s nest of derelict homes and ‘urban prairie’? There’s a whole lab complex, and an army of surveyors and photographers who came in during construction to make the view from the loop was never disturbed. The whole production must have cost more than some countries’ GDP - but every cent was worth it. 

Put simply, Tartarus is a stable dimensional abscess - a place where spacetime has been permanently warped by hypergeometric energy, but in a predictable, reliable and unchanging way. The value for Nyx is obvious - there are satellite labs and quarantined studies scattered all over the place, but Tartarus is our beating heart. 

Among many, many other uses, it’s how we stress-test. 

Project Nyx exists to sculpt the next step in existence - to create a stable and worthy inheritor to earth’s civilization once the current users are no longer fit for purpose. There are a lot of different ways that might happen, but the most obvious is the millenia-long streak of good luck we’ve had evolving in a cosmological tidal pool finally breaking. The curtain is going to fall eventually, and when it does homo sapiens sapiens will start tearing its own eyes out. So we need to make sure whatever we make can do better. 

Tartarus is a space with an additional dimension of movement - the more loops you complete of the walking trail, the further you get from the rest of the world and the more directly you are exposed to hypergeometric energy. After six loops radio signals are lost and unshielded electronics start to break down. After thirteen, leaving the trail any way but turning around and retracing your steps becomes impossible. After thirty-three, attrition rates for baseline humans exceed eighty percent. 

Last week Subject Muninn set a new record, returning apparently alive and plausibly sane after entering a 482nd loop. We’re all hoping it survives decontamination and debriefing well enough to share some stories. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------

Threat GLACIAL JUDAS is a dangerous form of  FOREIGN incursion created by Threat PIOUS WEEPERS as part of their attempts to invite a direct, physical invasion from ABROAD. With the completion of Operation SALTED ANTIOCH, WEEPERS have been burned out, but containing and dealing with JUDAS is an ongoing issue until F-CELL figures out how to destroy it. 

PIOUS WEEPERS created three different instances of JUDAS that we know of - and we are pretty damn sure that that’s all of them, seeing as how otherwise we’d all be dead. Besides which, digging each one seems to have been difficult or expensive or both, even for a cult like that; the second and third paths were only dug once PIOUS WEEPERS  was on the run and we had secured the first one (and lost a damn good Agent stumbling into it). 

JUDAS paths don’t look like anything special from the outside, or anything at all. One is nothing but a pair of drainage pipes under a highway and two goat paths between them on either end. Which is the whole point; each path is a circuit, and you will only realize what it is once you’ve walked it more than once. 

Each instance of GLACIAL JUDAS is a secret door from here to ABROAD, a path that looks normal until you start walking it right down into hell. And there’s something at the other end knocking and asking to be let in.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

The outer levels of a depression - those closest to the material -  differ from it only in the lack of wildlife and the pleasant insulation from the noises of the outside world. Each level is also really quite separate from those which border it. We’ve built dormitories on one, a cafeteria and concert stage one level further out, and mediation areas on a level further in. Despite occupying what are theoretically ‘the same’ part of the little patch of Floridian paradise we have acquired for ourselves, the only way to even hear one from the others is if someone is loud enough for the sound to echo all along the path we’ve cut around and through the island. 

The inner levels are less anchored to mundane reality and more subject to the symbolic impressions that formed the depression - in our case, heat and humidity predominate and the effect quickly becomes sauna-like. The flora begins changing as well, from reflections of the greenery in the outer layers to reflections of how it is perceived. Brilliant flowers, dangerous thorns and snarled roots, and an absolute cornucopia of fruits as tempting and luscious to behold as you might imagine. Some are filling and delicious enough to be the mainstay of a dier, some rot on the vine or taste of rat poison and razor blades – determining which can be safely eaten and harvesting them at scale has been a major preoccupation of our community for some time now. 

The innermost levels of the Depression spiral towards the egregore born of its creation, which perpetually dreams and maintains it. Wildlife reappears, now wholly symbolic dreamstuff but not any less capable of stinging, biting or poisoning unwary explorers for that. The landscape and the very laws of reality become increasingly dreamlike as well - and this is the focus of my current research. It is my contention that these inner levels will, to a sufficiently trained and conscious dreamer, be as malleable and controllable as their own mind it - that the depression can be reshaped to any sort of paradise or sanctuary which might be required. The therapies and courses I oversee are focused on achieving this precise level of control, and with the right natural talent I am sure we might enthrone them to replace the reactive and often-unhelpful egregore with someone who can truly dream of Paradise.  

So far we have had little luck, I admit. But I believe this has been nothing but my own squeamishness - an unwillingness to trust one of my students to maintain their own identity as the egregore subsumes them. This, then, is what I hope you will be willing to generously sponsor and support. I’d ask you to imagine what we might accomplish - but in six months I hope I will simply be able to show you. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------

What exactly it’s like inside the Tartarus anomaly itself is strictly classified - of course it is, too high a risk that an accurate description of what a high-energy loop looks like is an infection vector for some memetic parasite. Not the worst thing to have happened when someone gets sloppy - but the general details are easy enough to piece together. Each layer is a bit less protected from the energies bombarding most of the universe than the one before - you’re crawling up a long, spiralling ramp from the earth to the stars. Which works out about as well for you or me as going sunbathing without an ozone layer. 

Assuming a subject can deal with unpleasant climate and inhospitable terrain, the minor Infections that start festering into animal-like life a couple dozen loops in are the first real issue. None with anything like intelligence, but the evolutionary pressures mean there are a lot of parasites that will try to burrow in and not mind one bit if they’re accidentally carried back down to an easy meal. Which is most of why the quarantine and decontamination whenever a team gets back is so harsh and thorough (relatedly, did you know that we’re the second generation of the project? The Director had to sanitize the whole site herself.)

But the real difficulties only start around layer three hundred. That’s when there’s basically no resemblance to earth as any of us experience it left, and the basic laws of physics and makeup of the world start breaking down. You know, where relying on a mouth and lungs to breathe oxygen or thinking that skin is enough to keep your blood and organs inside of you suddenly become lethal oversights. 

Tracking past layer five hundred or so is pretty useless, really. That’s when you really do reach Nyx - primordial night, the chaos from which all order was born. There are no bodies, because the universe is not yet composed of matter. There is no consciousness, because reality is not stable or complex enough to enable thought. 

I’m not sure the party line about what we’re doing here is true, if I’m being honest. We have some clues about the wider universe out there, and it’s not all anywhere near as lethal. 

I think the Director’s aiming higher than just creating something that can survive us, or at least part of her is. I think she’s trying to make something that can deal with the end of the world by creating a whole new one from scratch.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

GLACIAL JUDAS is a tunnel under a castle wall; a secret entrance through which FOREIGN agents and infections can seep into the world. The tunnels aren’t complete, but they go deep enough that the noise from the other side can start to echo through. Unguarded, the area around each of them will become the hunting ground of some monster crawling up from the pit within months.

PIOUS WEEPERS at least knew what it was; most cults are precious about it, but they admitted outright that they were clearing the way for their eyeless angel of revelation to ‘tear the scales from the eyes of the world’. You can almost respect it, once the threat is dealt with and the bodies are cooling. Most of their texts and relics went up in smoke, but a few were saved to send to F-CELL. Hopefully they can figure out how to seal JUDAS with them before any other poor idiots stumble down the spiral. 

K-CELL does not have the manpower to secure the three different locations, and we aren’t lucky enough to rely on them being scattered across the ass-end of nowhere to keep them safe. GLACIAL JUDAS is a demonic picture plant, and God knows how many people are still trapped inside one of their depths, too far gone to even try and claw their way out. Though they’re still better off than the ones who do. 

It isn’t an angel, but there is something at the bottom of all of the pits. The WEEPERS never shut up about it, and it had just about hollowed Agent KEVIN out and filled him up by the time he crawled back into the world. 

Whatever it is, we need either a way to seal all three pits nearly or enough high explosives to do it the old fashioned way, because both of us can already hear it sing. 

[the-darkest-0f-stars]

Context- Southbound is an **artificial** speculative evolution project centering primarily around the speculative biology and evolution of machines, often with a focus on aircraft. Unless specifically stated otherwise, instalments take place somewhere on the surface of the tidally-locked planet, Xoturanseria (Anser). P.S. we also have a Discord server !

Specific Context-

Although these ornithopters all seem to superficially resemble raptors from prehistoric Earth, they're actually rather unlike each other beyond the skin-deep resemblance. Bakora, for example, despite looking like it could be related to the hidias and kalabans, is completely different, not even being a sojourner ornithopter at all.

A good key to tell 'em apart? Look at the feet, remiges and rectrices. Hidias and kalabans have spiny legs (hidias only have spines on the back of the legs, but kalabans have them on both sides) and feathers. Bakora has comparatively more bird-like feet, but membraneous wing and tail "feathers".

Bakora

(Boro bakora)

Bakora is a large, flightless ornithopter endemic to the island of Ti Marik, the sole survivor besides the Johnny Darter of a mass-extermination of large machine species on the island. Genus *Boro* consists entirely of species that hardly resemble each other, and have come to fill in the empty niches left behind by the culled machines that used to occupy them.

Although Boro bakora superficially resembles the hidias and kalabans, it is actually a case of convergent evolution. In fact, it's now believed that the closest extant relatives of Bakora and its relatives are the ornithopters of the genus Taro.

The protruding fangs of Bakora are used primarily to dig for and crack open shelled organisms along the beaches of Ti Marik. Its short, stout legs are convenient for treading for hours searching for the best straining spots. Interestingly, it also possesses unusually long toes, which are useful for staying on top of the rather loose sand of the areas they often inhabit.

Although it seems rather raptor-like, Bakora is incapable of running or jumping beyond a small extent. It is remarkably heavy for its size, and often prefers to conserve its energy. Regardless, it is highly respected by the inhabitants of Ti Marik, and often shows up to symbolically represent them.

Naatsédlózii Hidia

(Etaanghera geococcyx)

The Naatsédlózii Hidia is both the longest and tallest ornithopter species recorded on Anser. Interestingly enough, although they look predatory, around 90% of the diet of hidias consists of fruit. Individuals living in Keizer will often follow Naatsédlózii Hidias as they tend to know the best locations for ripe fruits.

When hidias eat fruit, it ferments in a similar manner to the hoatzin birds of Earth. Also similar to the hoatzin, they produce a very distinct aroma, leading to the saying that "hidias smell like booze". In certain eastern Haliaeetian cultures, the blood, often containing enough alcohol to kill the average human, of hidias is consumed as a ceremonial beverage. However, obtaining this odd elixir is no easy feat, as hidias and kalabans are often incredibly aggressive and unpredictable.

Ironically, the manner in which they try to kill you is the easiest way to differentiate between the hidias and kalabans. If it stomps on you like a secretarybird, it's a hidia, but if it attempts to eviscerate you by jumping like a cassowary, it's a kalaban!

King Minos' Kalaban

(Burkina xtikasa)

King Minos' Kalaban is the smallest extant kalaban species. It is endangered in its native range, but is oddly successful in places it has been introduced to. Although still rather new to the hobby, these machines are oddly common in ground falconry, and are typically kept for their relatively calm demeaners in captivity. However, wild Minos' Kalabans are notoriously deadly, particularly in courting season, as humans are around the same height as their usual predators.

Notably, this is the only species in the family that will regularly partake in an omnivorous diet. King Minos' Kalaban is also one of the very few machine species that remains active during the high winter in Houdnang.

This species is also a very peculiar case of standard Haliaeetian naming conventions. Although it's typical for kalabans to be traditionally named after notable rulers, King Minos' Kalaban just happened to have a name lining up with a Terran mythological king, despite actually being named for a pop culture figure of the same name.

[sarangbe]

𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 ?

a solo written in 860 words. for the 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒂 𝒂𝒖𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 event.

while he's convinced that he's practically one of the only people in axis labels that's equipped to star in a drama, sarang wasn't sure about auditioning for this project at first. he knows that he possesses a wealth of talent when it comes to shapeshifting into different roles, and he knows that his visual appeal is the most striking amongst all the trainees, but despite this knowledge, he still tries to be realistic. sarang knows that he's beautiful and charming, but when he looks in the mirror, he doesn't necessarily see a leading man. at least not in the traditional sense.

drama fans ache to see a masculine, deep-voiced male ideal lead a series, and yeom sarang doesn't cross off those boxes. he doesn't even know if he would make a serviceable secondary lead either. as unfortunate as it is, this is simply the work of modern reality and he doesn't blame himself for any of this. in truth, it's the fault of society. in most all instances, his people aren't incredibly willing to accept those who differ from a culture built by the hands of their ancestors. a small part of him understands their apprehension, but above all, he longs to use his future platform to inspire broader acceptance.

that's why he decided to throw his hat into the ring. he can't make change just by yearning for it to happen, and after further encouragement from his friend and fellow trainee, jay, he started to prepare for his audition. going into this, he wasn't familiar with any of the dramas the scenes come from, but overall, he considers that an asset. this way, he can approach each of them with his own unique interpretation, as opposed to being influenced by the original actor's performance.

after careful consideration, sarang decided on the scene from 'start-up'. in his opinion, it's the most complex out of the other scripts, at least from the male role's point-of-view, and he's confident in his ability to handle the emotional intensity of it. as there aren't many lines for him to utter over the length of three minutes, the acting is focused largely on his face and body language. it starts with heavy emotions, and it ends with heavy emotions, but the heaviness is conveyed largely non-verbally. it appeals to him for these reasons.

now, he stands before the panel of judges and is about to showcase what he prepared. sarang is confident that he'll do well, but if nothing else, he's just glad that this helped kill the boredom he's been struggling with lately. it was a rough winter, so he's grateful that spring is ushering in renewed energy. that's neither here nor there in this moment though, and after introductions, he takes one final deep breath, shuts his eyes, and takes on a completely new form once the process starts; painting himself in broad strokes of blue and black.

he is a master of facial expressions, a natural-born talent that's become even more obvious now that he's been an idol trainee. this makes emoting using every square inch of his face effortless. he's largely silent for the first portion of the display, but the depth of soul that's conveyed through his eyes, the faint quiver of his bottom lip, the forlorn furrowing of his brows... he's still telling his side of the story, all while earnestly reacting to the lines he's treating as new information.

"dal-mi, please..." when he speaks, the texture of his voice is tense; strained. it perfectly accentuates his countenance. then, as the scene unfolds and even more is revealed, another tidal wave of emotion crashes over him, but he's careful not to let his first tear fall. his eyes storm, his heart sinks into his chest, and his visage shatters—he's a ravaged, wilted flower trapped in a hurricane. his visuals being how they are add a certain softness to his delivery, likely working in his favor as the innocence of his moon-shaped face adds a new layer to his showcase. "are you breaking up with me?"

sarang remembers the one and only time that he's been broken up with. it honestly really fucked him up. it felt so unexpected. somehow, it felt like a sucker-punch to the gut, and he relates to the questions uttered by his character on a rather personal level. he pulls from those memories to carry out the rest of his audition, finally letting tears fall toward the tail end of it—timed quite well, in his opinion.

"from the beginning... was this your plan from the beginning?"

he uttered a similar question to seonghan the night they ended. while they're not on horrible terms anymore, sarang still remembers how deeply he felt the end of their union, especially since seonghan was someone he once thought of as his first love. it adds a lasting impact to the end of the scene, and when he's done, he takes a deep breath to collect himself, dabs tears away from his eyes, bows, and when he rises back up, he greets the panel with a smile and thanks them for their time before taking his exit.

[bonesandthebees]

wait, how do you come up with names for your fics? like in stars you have eldenvegr (i think?) and then epli and so on so on

well for stars I took very specific inspiration for my worldbuilding of different planets. eldinvegr specifically was inspired by this idea of an old norse/norse mythology kind of vibe, so pretty much every single word or phrase in the eldingvegrian language was kind of a twisted version of an old norse word (which led to me finding out that modern day icelandic really isn't all that different from old norse as a language to the point where I had people pointing out some of the words I ended up using were just straight up icelandic lmao)

I didn't come up with the name Eldingvegr on my own (a friend of mine who was helping me brainstorm the early plot of stars did) so I can't attest to exactly where it comes from, but I believe it was some variation of something like "dawn world" in old norse since, yknow, eldingvegr is kind of in a state of perpetual dawn/dusk thanks to being tidally-locked

epli is the old norse word for apple. røkkrring is taken from the word røkkr, which means 'twilight' in old norse, and combining it with the english word 'ring' to create the phrase 'twilight ring'. this refers to the band around the planet where the daytime and nighttime sides meet thus creating a habitable 'ring' around the planet. nóttsid is the old norse word 'nótt' meaning night, combined with 'sid' which is just the english word 'side' with the e at the end taken off. so literally 'night side' referring to the side of the planet that faces away from the sun plunging it into perpetual night. same thing for the daylight side sólsid (sól meaning sun, so 'sun side'). margyg which is the eldingvegrian word used to refer to the sirens of themis is taken from margygr which was an old norse word used to refer to mythological sea spirits/mermaid-like creatures. dagrbrað is taken from 'dagsbrún' which was another old norse word for dawn and combined with brauð which was old norse for bread, so it kind of translates to 'dawn bread'. as you can see I wasn't trying to take words directly from old norse and just paste them on, I was dropping letters/combining new words here and there to kind of make it look like a language that derived heavily from old norse/modern icelandic but had become influenced heavily by other languages like english.

I definitely put the most energy into worldbuilding the language for eldingvegr but I put thought into other planets as well, like themis. my inspiration for themis comes from greek mythology. the planet name themis both comes from a shortened version of themyscira, the home of the amazon warriors in greek mythology, and themis the greek goddess of several things including divine order and custom. I took a lot of inspo in general for themis from the legendary greek warrior women since themis has a matriarchal society/government. the name myrina for the queen of the sirens comes from one of the queens of the amazon warriors in legend.

ok that's a lot of rambling just for stars. for rose there isn't really another full language like there was in stars, but for place names I'm taking a lot of inspiration from dutch as a language (you can see this with the suffixes of many of the city names. summerdam with 'dam', cedardijk with 'dijk', maanstad with 'stad', etc. this is mainly because right when I was starting to get heavily into worldbuilding for rose about a year ago as I prepared for it to be my next large project, I took a trip to europe for 3 weeks and ended up spending quite a bit of that time by myself in the netherlands and absolutely loved it. so I got a lot of inspiration for the cities from my time there.

ok that was longer than expected lol hope you liked all that info

[jinx-badluckqueen]

Full Name

Jaya

Alias

Jinx

Lucky (by Kid Kold)

Slowpoke (by Kid Flash)

Jinxy (by Kid Flash)

Origin

Teen Titans

Occupation

H.I.V.E. Academy student

Leader of the H.I.V.E. Five (both formerly)

Honorary Teen Titan

Powers / Skills

Sorcery and hexes

Probability manipulation

Energy projection

Master acrobatics

Enhanced agility

Skilled in hand-to-hand combat

Goals

To cause mischief and rob banks.

Join the Brotherhood of Evil (both formerly).

Aid the Teen Titans in taking down The Brotherhood of Evil (succeeded).

Crimes

Theft

Assault and battery

Terrorism

Property damage

Attempted murder

Torture

Kidnapping

Burglary

Type of Villain

Magical Supervillainess

Less

"H.I.V.E. Five, eat 'em alive!"

Jinx's catchphrase as part of the H.I.V.E. Five

"I'm bad luck. Good was never an option for me. At least with the Brotherhood of Evil, I could be somebody. I'll get respect."

Jinx to Kid Flash

"Think of me as a Wicked Witch, Tin Man."

Jinx to Cyborg in the 2006 video game.

Jinx is a major antagonist in the 2003 Cartoon Network animated series Teen Titans.

She was voiced by Lauren Tom, (who also voiced Gizmo in the same series, Councillor Chang in American Dragon: Jake Long and Amy Wong in Futurama) in every appearance but her last, for which Tara Strong (who also voices Raven, Princess Clara, Toot Braunstein, Ferra, Iggy "Hop" Koopa, Lena Dupree and Harley Quinn in both the Batman: Arkham and Injustice: Gods Among Us videogames), provided the voice.

Physical Appearance

Jinx has light gray skin, sharing the skin color as Raven, Argent, and Kyd Wykkyd. Her hair is shaped like a horseshoe, sticking out just a little bit at the tips. Her hair color is light pink, with metallic black bands near the top. Her eyes match her hair color, with pupils shaped like a cat's. She also has small, oval-shaped pink cheek blushes. Her outfit is a black, long-sleeved dress with violet centered bands. The bottom of her dress is cut jagged about halfway down her thigh. She also has violet and black striped leggings under her dress. Her shoes are black platform boots with violet soles. She also has a black collar with a violet charm on it.

Personality

During her time with the H.I.V.E. Five, Jinx was a very ambitious go-getter with a slight mean streak. Because of her goals to rise among the ranks of villains, she tries her best to be an effective H.I.V.E. member under both its regimes. Far more controlled, focused and mature than her male teammates, Jinx has proven herself to be a largely capable and determined, if not subconsciously insecure, leader.

Jinx is also strong in her own personality, though, even directly assaulting Madame Rouge and releasing Kid Flash when Rouge taunted and mocked her, deeming her a "pathetic failure" and an "embarrassment".

At first, Jinx appears to be quiet, mean, mysterious, often speaking in whispers and sometimes depicted as rather crazy because of the evil, crooked grin she usually wore when battling. However, in "Lightspeed", we see a more determined, outspoken and emotional side of Jinx who wants to be respected and not shunned because of her bad-luck powers. Kid Flash helped Jinx bring out her true personality, and how she feels about certain things.

Generally, however, despite her habitual dark looks, she is a very fashion-conscious girl, more intent on hunting for interesting attires and accessories rather than getting rich.

Furthermore, she is characterized as the "popular girl" in the H.I.V.E. Five; in the series, a number of super-teens — including Kid Flash, Cyborg, See-More and Kid Kold - are revealed to have (or had) a crush on her.

Powers and Abilities

The Power of Jinx

Jinx Magic: Jinx's body produces mystical energy which she can use for a variety of effects. Though an act of will, Jinx can cause electrical systems to malfunction. Jinx's sorcery also enables her to affect the elements. She can generate a whirlpool or tidal wave in the middle of the ocean, or summon heavy winds to knock opponents off their feet. Jinx has the ability of Probability Control, or manipulation over luck or - in Jinx's case - bad luck. Jinx is described as an enchanting sorceress who wields the power of bad luck, which manifests as pink, lightning-like energy blasts/waves fired from her hands. Jinx's powers portray a manipulation of probability, or more specifically, the ability to "jinx" her enemies, hence her name. How she does this has never been explored in the series. When she is not shooting waves of energy, her eyes glow a bright pink instead, and can make structures crumble. In early episodes, it was shown that her powers are magical in nature; however, in later episodes, she's seen exhibiting her powers as a free flow output through her brain, common for most psionics. When she wants her enemies to be "jinxed", she mostly uses her energy waves to disrupt solid structures in her surroundings, though other effects are also possible, such as tidal waves. Her bad-luck energy can also serve a direct offensive role as concussive blasts. As shown in Teen Titans Go! issue #1, her powers cannot bypass Raven's dark-energy shields. Jinx is also an accomplished gymnast, capable of dodging beam-bursts, starbolts and pillars of stone telekinetically launched at her with ease.

Probability Manipulation: Among these is the ability to affect probability fields around specific objects.

Energy Projection: Primarily, though, Jinx uses her power to produce bursts of concussive mystical energy. She can hurl this energy either as a blast, or as a pink wave/hex, which she uses to knock her opponents off their feet.

Expert Gymnast: Jinx is extremely agile and uses various somersaults and tumbling to avoid offensive attacks. She has also incorporated her gymnastic skill into close-quarters combat.

Biography

Teen Titans

Jinx was a young magic user and a member of the H.I.V.E. Academy. She often worked alongside her fellow students, Gizmo and Mammoth. As part of the Academy's final exam, Jinx, Gizmo and Mammoth were assigned to destroy the Teen Titans on orders by Slade. During their initial encounter with the Titans, Jinx focused her attention on her analog in the Titans - Raven. Their first battle ended with her victorious and, after defeating the Titans, they took command of their headquarters, Titans Tower. Jinx temporarily moved into the quarters normally occupied by Raven. When the Titans regrouped, they fought to take back the Tower and Beast Boy distracted Jinx, tricking her into firing random blasts of energy that caused the roof above her to collapse. Jinx survived the incident, however, and soon regrouped with the rest of the H.I.V.E. students.

In a later adventure, Jinx, Gizmo and Mammoth once again encountered the Teen Titans while in the midst of a daring bank robbery. The H.I.V.E. students managed to escape capture, but not before Robin planted a homing beacon on Jinx's costume. The Titans used the beacon to discover the location of the H.I.V.E. Academy and Cyborg infiltrated the organization using the alias "Stone". As Stone, he befriended Jinx and the others, but did not fool the H.I.V.E.'s new headmaster Brother Blood. Although Cyborg's true identity soon became known to the group, his presence made Jinx begin to question her commitment towards being a super-villain.

After the defeat of Brother Blood, Jinx formed the H.I.V.E. Five with Gizmo, Mammoth, See-More and Private H.I.V.E.. The H.I.V.E. Five briefly engaged the Titans in combat during a raid on a shopping mall but, just as they were gaining the upper hand, the mystical entity known as Mother Mae-Eye appeared and defeated them. Later on, after the Titans had defeated Mother Mae-Eye, they tricked Gizmo into taking the pie she was in, and Mother Mae-Eye subsequently brainwashed the H.I.V.E. Five by feeding them her pie.

Jinx does her smile (Slow)

Jinx's surprised little smile comes over in "Lightspeed"

Sometime later, Jinx and the H.I.V.E. Five (with Billy Numerous and Kyd Wykkyd replacing Private H.I.V.E., who had left the group to strike out on his own) were in the midst of robbing a museum when they encountered Kid Flash, who easily took the stolen items from them whilst giving Jinx a rose. By this point, Jinx felt that her reputation amongst the H.I.V.E. Five was tarnished, and she wanted to prove that she had what it took to play in the big leagues. To accomplish this, she attempted to cultivate a relationship with Madame Rouge of the Brotherhood of Evil. She encountered Kid Flash once again, and managed to capture him on behalf of the Brotherhood. While imprisoned, the speedster asked Jinx why she insisted on hanging out with a "bunch of losers" like the H.I.V.E. Five. This angered Jinx greatly, but something in Kid Flash's words struck a chord within her. Nevertheless, she believed that the capture of Kid Flash would secure her a place within the Brotherhood. Kid Flash soon escaped confinement, but Jinx caught up with him and managed to subdue him with an electro-stunner. Madame Rouge, however, was unimpressed with Jinx's handiwork and rebuked her efforts, calling her a "pathetic failure" and an "embarrassment". This caused Jinx to turn against Madame Rouge and, following a brief battle, she began to distance herself from the rest of the H.I.V.E. Five.

Kid Flash's persistent efforts to reform her finally paid off, as Jinx eventually abandoned the H.I.V.E. Five altogether and joined the Titans in their battle against the Brotherhood of Evil. She no longer actively participates in criminal endeavors, instead aiding the Teen Titans in their various adventures.

Trivia

The shape of Jinx's hair looks similar to a horseshoe, which has a superstitious relation to luck. Oddly, while Jinx's powers revolve around bad luck, her hair is pointed upwards, and an upward-pointed horseshoe is a symbol of good luck.

Interestingly, whenever she was fighting against the Titans, she always battled Raven ("Final Exam", "Deception" and "Mother Mae-Eye")

Jinx is the only supporting character in the show to not have eyebrows.

She was the first boss in the Teen Titans: Battle Blitz game.

Her design in the show greatly differs from that in the comics. In the comics, she is an Indian sorceress who wore golden jewelry and wore mostly white and had ashy-brown skin that later became darker skin, along with her hair color being listed as “unknown.” She also had elemental magic instead of bad luck-themed abilities and wouldn't have probability-based powers until after the cartoon.

There has been common misconceptions about Jinx's character. A common example is that a lot of the time when people bring up how she looks in the comics they will only show redesigns of her after the cartoon but her design before the cartoon looked like this. Indians in the comics at the time were depicted with ashy skin that looked like a mix between an ashy color and gray with some prints making Jinx look really gray. However, Jinx was still intended to be some form of brown and not gray, even if she looked grayish brown, but wasn't given darker skin until after the cartoon. Jinx’s “who’s who” comic page in the 80s also listed her hair color as simply being “unknown” leaving it mysterious to what it could have been, if she had any, or not, while after the cartoon she was explicitly given bald hair. Apparently, the reason for her lack of hair in her post-cartoon comic redesign is because she has cancer.

Another misconception is that due to their vast differences, cartoon Jinx is a completely new and different character who just shares a name. Both the people who work on the show and DC themselves recognize them as the same character from different continuities and cartoon Jinx is a heavily altered adaptation of the comic book character and not a new character.

There is a small thread on Twitter, by Jinx’s co-creator Chuck Patton, explaining how he came up with the design of Jinx.

Cartoon Jinx's hair seems to have been inspired by the horns of her original comic book look but flipped upward instead of downward.

Jinx seems to have replaced the role of a comic book character called Shimmer. Shimmer, aka Selinda Flinders, was the original sole female member of the Fearsome Five (known as the H.I.V.E. Five on the show) with Jinx being a minor character who came later and only appeared in 3 issues by the time the team was at its end, and they needed to get another criminal for extra power. In the show's spin-off comics, they even have a team called the Fearsome Five with every character in it that was in it in the comics except Jinx replaces the role of Shimmer. Shimmer was an element and matter transmuter and the twin sister of Mammoth. Ironically both Shimmer and Jinx had "elemental" based powers in the comics, with Shimmer even being a bit jealous at first that Jinx's seems to be more powerful than her's, which isn't a trait cartoon Jinx had at all. The reason Jinx was chosen according to those working on the show was just because they wanted a magical rival for Raven. Due to her more major role in the comics, and being siblings with one of the villains who do show up in the show, her exclusion and replacement by Jinx has been seen as weird by people more aware of the comics.

Some fans will point out another similarity that Shimmer and Jinx have is that Shimmer has a "goth" look in the comics and will claim that it is where cartoon Jinx gets her "goth" or alternative look from. While this is true for Shimmer's later appearances, originally Shimmer wore a bright yellow and gold bodysuit. Her "goth" or "edgy" look that she later received in the comics seems to be more in response from the similarities that she shared with cartoon Jinx, whereas comic Jinx kept her light clothing but had different outfits over the years, and not where cartoon Jinx got the inspiration from.

She also has similar traits to another character called Magenta but their character arcs seem to be in reverse. Jinx is a villain turned hero while Magenta is a hero turned villain. Magenta was the friend turned girlfriend of Kid Flash. Kid Flash thought since they were a couple with superpowers that they could be a superhero couple but accidentally pressured Magenta too much into becoming one which didn't do so good for the girl who already had to deal with tons of pressure before. Her "evil split personality" (which was known as Magenta as her civilian name is Frances Kane), mixed in with her underlying issues, would eventually take over and became more of a villain to Kid Flash instead. Magenta also saw her powers as a curse as she had powerful, but at times disastrous, magnetic powers. Kid Flash and some of the other Titans also didn't see it as a curse, even if destructive. Magenta's classic costume did have pink and some black on it which is similar to cartoon Jinx's colors. It has also often been assumed by fans that Magenta was another character used as the basis for cartoon Jinx.

If true that Magenta was also replaced by/fused into cartoon Jinx, it seems likely that this is because, while still very much a character on her own, Magenta is heavily tied to the character Kid Flash. Kid Flash didn't appear on the show, until the final season, because the team couldn't get the rights to use him at the time. So, it seems possible, yet unconfirmed, that the reason Magenta wasn't used and got merged into cartoon Jinx was because the Titan she was associated with couldn't make an appearance.

Some of the Teen Titans fandom have given her the name "Jaya" as her real name.

[undergoingcalibrations]

FF7: Ever Crisis New Lore Summary (For those who rightfully don't want to put up with gacha BS)

General Worldbuilding:

SOLDIERs, (as of The First Soldier campaign, which takes place 15 years before the start original game), are divided into two grades: Passive and Active. Passive grade SOLDIERs are only distinguished from common forces by their elite training and superior equipment. Active grade SOLDIERs have only appeared on the scene extremely recently as of FS, and have received 'enhancements' to improve their physical resilience and affinity for materia. Passive grade SOLDIERs, and the public for that matter, have no idea what those enhancements actually are, with one of the Passive grades, Glenn, assuming that they are cyborgs.

Passive grades are also called P0s, short for Project Zero, the VR fighting program used to filter out those eligible for SOLDIER training from other Shinra troopers. This is the source of rivalry between some passives and actives, as being selected for active grade is seen as more of a question of genetics than talent.

A new nation, Rhadore, appears in Ever Crisis. It's abundance of ruins, it's geography (a southern nation composed of several islands), and the presence of a vent where the Lifestream flows out into the ocean, suggest that this may be the name of the southern archipelago where Mideel and the Temple of the Ancients are located.

Rhadore's population was decimated by SOLDIER operations after it broke a treaty with Shinra a decade before the events of The First Soldier campaign (25 years before FF7), with one of the P0s, Matt, giving the current estimated survivors as between 500-1,000.

Based on the naming conventions of regions in Rhadore, and conversations with the one named Rhadoran character, Rosen, it appears to be based on Hawai'i (for instance, Rosen uses the Hawai'ian word for spiritual energy, mana, to refer to mako and the Lifestream).

Rosen refers to the deceased as 'being with the Planet', suggesting that Planetology may have been a common faith there before the Shinra genocide.

A respected occupation in Rhadore was to serve as an 'Eye of Rhadore', responsible for monitoring the flow of the Lifestream into Rhadore's seas and notifying settlements in case of danger, as surges of Lifestream not only cause tidal waves but render seawater temporarily toxic. Rosen states that only a rare few are eligible to become Eyes, as they "need to be able to hear the Planet, even when they're asleep", suggesting that Cetra outside of Aerith and Ifalna may have survived there in one form or another.

Cloud

In Ever Crisis's telling of the events of FF7, Jessie gives Cloud a copy of the Project Zero training program she found while hacking Shinra databases. Nothing's really come of it yet.

When Tifa asks Cloud what his go-to drink was in SOLDIER, Cloud mentions a cocktail called a Winter Salt, though cannot remember how to make it, besides, well...there's salt. One assumes it was a favourite of Zack's.

Cloud says that after Nibelheim, he found himself at the Sector 7 trainyard "as if I was guided there". Presumably, Sephiroth was doing the guiding, but to what end is unclear.

Tifa

Tifa worked at a steam bun shop in Sector 8 for at least three years before her gig at Seventh Heaven. Her steam buns were so good that Wedge would often force Avalanche to go out of their way to eat there, which is how she ended up becoming friends with the group in the first place.

Tifa regards Jessie as a big sister and mentor, even though they're almost the same age.

Apart from out of loyalty to her friends, Tifa joined Avalanche because the religious aspects of Planetology appeal to her- namely, the idea that her father and the rest of Nibelheim are with the Planet, so by caring for the Planet, she will always be connected to them in turn.

Aerith

Aerith loves picnics because as a child in the labs, she naturally wasn't allowed to eat outside.

Elmyra had hired a bodyguard to look after Aerith when she was little (Shinra's got great life insurance payouts, apparently), but Tseng...dealt with them.

On a related note, one of Aerith's lifelong ambitions, ever since she can remember, is to one day be stronger than Tseng. Not that she wants to hurt him, necessarily, just that she never wants to be afraid of him pushing her and her family around again.

Ifalna was able to visit Aerith in spirit at least once after her death, comforting her when she was afraid, and reassuring her that she was strong because her family was with the Planet, and the Planet was with her.

Sephiroth

Based on the timeline, Sephiroth is anywhere between 12-15 during The First Soldier campaign. I'm tempted to say he's on the older end of that spectrum, as the P0s are surprised but not appalled by his age, and Cloud applied for SOLDIER at 15, if that's anything to go by.

Sephiroth uses a katana in Ever Crisis, rather than an odachi like in his other appearances. He's not tall enough to pull that off yet.

At some point between The First Soldier and Crisis Core, Sephiroth's eyes changed from blue to green. Mako will do that, I guess.

Despite Shinra propaganda stating that Sephiroth was already a decorated SOLDIER by this point, the mission to secure a site for a new mako reactor in Rhadore that The First Soldier covers was his first field operation- Shinra was simply trying to boost support for active grade SOLDIERs by attributing the accolades of others to their prototype. Sephiroth is upfront and untroubled about this with the P0s that have been assigned to him.

Sephiroth appears to be a true patriot, having no remorse for the Rhadorans that would stand in the way of Shinra's mission. He has no compunction when it comes to killing even a group of young and elderly Rhadorans attempting to evacuate, a thoroughness that he attributes to Shinra's training- the young could be receiving military training, and the old could be seasoned veterans, so all must considered a threat and eliminated. The P0's, on the other hand, seem to be mostly in this for the money and find Sephiroth's actions disturbing, though hold that against whoever taught him he had to be this way, not Sephiroth himself.

...despite this, Sephiroth states multiple times that he did not ask to be what he is and doesn't want to be the false hero Shinra's propped him up as. When asked what he wants to be when he grows up, he thinks to himself that "I just want to live a normal life", but refuses to say it aloud.

Sephiroth keeps a picture of Lucrecia on him at all times, though Hojo told him it was a picture of Jenova. He asks everyone he meets if they've seen her or know anything about her, and appears to believe she's still alive.

[paperclips37]

Three's Company - chapter 2

Mac deals with a shirt thief.

AKA: He continues to be an idiot.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64181686/chapters/164705362

--------

Where were they? Typically there was almost a rainbow of flannel in this drawer. However on this day there were about two left. Blue and grey. Mac frowned into the drawer. His house was only so big. Riley’s muffled swearing pulled his attention from his shirt related mystery. Some co-op game clearly not going her way. He drummed a pondering rhythm on the aged wood of the drawer. The nearly empty drawer not giving away any hints. Almost barren. His room was a bit messier than usual; not having the energy or finding a good reason to keep on top of chores. Pandemic monotony not good for his drive.

With a frustrated sigh he slammed the drawer shut. His MIT shirt would do for now. The static electricity crackled in the air as he yanked it on.

His latest project lay on his desk gathering dusk. Unfinished. Lacking in any inspiration. Scientific journals scattered on the floor. Mac kicked the detritus on the floor to one corner. Something digging into his skin. His mood however didn’t allow for processing of the pain. He was far to detached from reality lately. CODEX, Gwen, Desi, the pandemic and his swirl of impossible feelings driving him from the real world.

No sign of flannel anywhere in the movement of the mess from one locale to the other.

“Where the fuck are they???’ There was no damping down his frustration. Why bother? He was trapped inside. Unable to do anything productive. And he couldn’t find any of his god damn shirts.

No sign of them in the laundry room or anywhere else. Mac took a deep steadying breath. They were just shirts. It shouldn’t be bothering him this much. Grief could do that he supposed. Anger, irritability and loss of control. It all added up. None of it felt real. The latest blow up with Des sure wasn’t helping his mood. Being apart wasn’t helping the fallout. Mac being unable to really prove that CODEX was a one time thing. Des having nothing but time to play through his betrayal on repeat. Coupled with the strain of COVID isolation. Equation for a struggling relationship.

Bozer had his noise cancelling headphones on. Lip syncing and dancing to the music drowning out the world around him. Oblivious to Mac’s stomping into the room. And the dark thunder blooming over his head. He had banned Mac from the cooking rotation 2 weeks into his moving back in. As entertaining as Mac’s exploits in the kitchen were. Bozer could only tolerate so much. The more food wasted, the more disinfecting of groceries needed. Looked like they were having Nasi Goring tonight.

Mac tilted his head, concentrating deeply. Trying to poke around his feelings. He shut his eyes; trying to identify his emotions. Dulled. Muted. His face contorted. Bozer was taking the time to make one of Mac’s favourite dishes and he was barely feeling it. There wasn't that usual deep warmth and brotherly affection. All reactions had been turned down to one of the emotional scale. Even the good things were being scaled back. His stressed brain repressive all feeling. As though it could dissipate the tidal wave coming directly for him.

The world came back into focus. A little sharper, a little brighter. There was even a spark of humour as he took in the hot pink boa wrapped around Tesla. Good. That was good. It was only then he noticed that Riley’s gaming monologue had stopped. The game was paused and her gaze tracked on him. He shrugged with a half smile. Hoping that she would be able to read him well enough to not make him talk about it. Mac had enough of talking about his feelings, justifying them. Not that Riley expected that of him. But he was just so freaking tired.

Tired of explaining. Apologising. Justifying how he worked, what he did, how he fucking felt.

Her dark eyes narrowed. It was still weird to see her without her carefully applied eyeliner. Her looking like that felt more real. Seeing her so comfortable and at home. In his home. Mac was easily able to identify how happy that made him. And he quickly put that feeling away. No point digging into the pointless.

Riley had that curious look on her face. The one she had when she was figuring something out. Her ability to read him better than anyone. Even Jack. And Bozer. Her assessing scan apparently didn’t flag anything urgent. Well nothing more urgent than before. His mood had been sour for at least a week. She opened her mouth to say something. Then it snapped shut. She was less likely to call him out lately. Her own struggles driving her back to her similar isolationist tendencies.

‘I’ll be okay Riles. Just can’t find my shirts.’ Riley’s eyebrows shot up. A little too quickly. A little too innocently. She turned away from him with a small smile. Burrowing back into her chair and getting lost in her game. Only her tips of her fingers and nails poking out of the overly large green shirt. Tucking her chin into the mens’ sized collar.

Wait a minute.

Green flannel shirt.

His green flannel shirt.

His mind flooded with a flash-book montage of Riley over the lockdown period. All of her looking cozy and at home in flannel shirt. Sleeves hiding most of her hands. Usually over a tank top and only partially buttoned. The rare occasion hiding most of the shorts she slept in. She slept in his flannel shirts?

Mac fought to stop his jaw from dropping. How had he not noticed? Confirmation that he really was not with it lately. Existing in the world but not present in it. Vague recollections of his id commenting on how good those oversized shirts were on her played in his mind. Unable to control images on her in only the shirt. In his bed.

Riley leaned towards oversized clothing when relaxing. And Mac had the biggest clothes in the house. He felt a warm glow at the fact that she gravitated towards his shirts when looking for comfort. Even if that meant her stealing them. Mac did his best to squash the darker impulses and images flooding his intrigue deprived brain. Using all the training and skills he had to not let any of it show.

But that mental image was not going to fade away any time soon.

[what-about-zaladane]

Why Do I Give off A Negative First Impression? Mars, Venus-Pluto Squares, and the Armor of Intensity

Reddit Response Masterlist

Question: Why do I give off a negative impression to everyone I meet? I feel like I always come off bitchy when I am not trying to.

This is a really vulnerable question. What you're saying -- that you're "coming off wrong" without meaning to -- it sounds like there's a lot of old panic, confusion and pain there. It's as if you're constantly trying to manage something about yourself that no one will properly explain to you -- or even tell you if it exists.

Libra Rising and Mars Descendant: Your Libra Ascendant wants to be seen as someone with grace, charm and social awareness. Libra Rising wants harmony, but you have your Descendent in Aries, your 7th house in Aries, and Mars conjunct your Descendent. Because Mars is the ruler of Aries, this house loops back around and folds in on itself -- it's all intense energy, all the time. You are not a neutral person -- you are naturally polarizing and people tend to react to that. Whether or not you mean to, you come off more forceful, blunt or aggressive than you feel like inside. It's just the way you are patterned to react to people.

Venus Ruling and Venus-Pluto Square: Venus is the ruler of your chart (since your Rising sign is Libra) and also of relationships inherently. The chart ruler sets the tone for the entire chart -- think of it as the helm of the ship. What happens to the chart ruler, reverberates throughout the rest of the chart and your personality. Your Venus is closely square Pluto and that will show itself. Pluto, much like Mars, is not a subtle planet, and it will make itself known even in much less impactful aspects than yours.

Pluto is the planet of deep-diving, intensity and magnetism. You draw people to you, but not because of a pleasant Libra-rising demeanor. Your intensity pulls people in like a magnet. You walk in and people feel something. People project a lot of things onto intensity: arrogance, danger, domination, dislike. It doesn't have to be true -- it's the way people naturally try to interpret a human tidal wave when it crashes into them.

Your Venus is even (loosely) conjunct Black Moon Lilith which brings in wild, untamed feminine darkness, fire and intensity itself. People just...feel you coming. This might also be where the impression of "bitchiness" comes from.

Moon and Mars: Intensity, Emotions, and Outward Projection: Your Cancer Moon is closely conjunct your MC. You naturally project intense emotions into your public image, and you have a lot of feelings mixed up with how people see you. If your question is anything to go by, the idea of being mis-seen keeps you up at night. Your Moon being square that Mars we talked about earlier makes things even more intense and emotionally aggressive -- whether internally or externally. You can be overly protective, passionate and your emotions and reactions are visceral. Your hurt feels like it is magnified, and people can tell.

Let me be clear -- intense emotions and keeping your emotions close to the surface isn't a bad thing. But it is a lot. And people react to "a lot" -- sometimes they say it's "too much." Even when you think you have your emotions locked down, your demeanor and body might be saying "beware."

Mercury and Neptune in Aquarius: Your Mercury and Neptune are in very, very close conjunction in Aquarius. You think in a sideways sort of way, since Neptune is the planet of illusions, dreams, metaphor, symbols, and other squishy things like that. Neptune doesn't just confuse other people -- it often confuses you in terms of how you are thinking and being unclear -- hence your question. That doubt can make you retreat, overcompensate (sarcasm?) and over-analyze. You might be communicating something sincere and warm, and another person might think it comes off sarcastic or veiled. Some people understand you and are charmed. Others flinch.

Your Mercury and Neptune are also closely trine your Saturn and Part of Fortune (conjunct). Combined with your Capricorn third House, you can have a very exacting and specific -- even rigid -- way of thinking, even if it comes out a little veiled sometimes. Some people may see this as a flaw, but keep in mind Saturn is supporting your Mercury, and so is your Part of Fortune. This is a strength of yours, and it will lead you great places as long as you put a modicum of faith in your own powers of thought and reasoning.

Chiron in the 3rd House - Wounds of Communication: Your Chiron is in Capricorn in the 3rd house, and Capricorn rules the 3rd house of communication in the Whole Sign system. You have insecurities and doubts about your style of communication, and unfortunately Capricorn 3rd lends itself to a dry, reserved style of speech and demeanor. You don't mean to be wry and saracastic -- it just happens. But you don't feel good about it -- and you're hyper-aware of your perceived flaws in this area of your life.

Conclusion: There is nothing wrong with you. "A lot" doesn't necessarily mean "bad" or "too much." Depth and intensity are valuable things to have, and they help you to develop as a person -- in fact, they help you to ask introspective questions like "Why don't people seem to like me?" Just because you distort gravity around you doesn't mean you are unlikeable or unlovable or unpleasant -- you're just a strong person, and that is something to be valued. People often want women to be smaller -- that's not you.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Inside Climate News:

Engineer David Clarke spent more than three decades at BP, starting on a production platform in the North Sea and ending his career with the company in Alaska, where he helped wring more oil out of the aging Prudhoe Bay oil fields.

In 2020, BP pulled out of the state, selling off its Alaska assets and vacating a 14-story headquarters office building in midtown Anchorage. But Clarke has made his home here, shifting his focus from oil and gas to another world-class energy prospect —the strong offshore gusts that blow across Southcentral Alaska’s Cook Inlet, where he proposes to erect offshore wind turbines.  

Clarke is part of a cadre of Alaska oil industry veterans who have joined an ambitious effort by clean energy advocates to try to rewire the state’s fossil fuel mindset by tapping Alaska’s massive potential for renewable power.

They are developing solar projects, prospecting for geothermal energy on the flanks of a volcano and designing a test of tidal power technology in Cook Inlet. The electricity produced from such projects could play an increasingly important role in the state’s economy as climate change spurs a global shift away from fossil fuels. 

Clarke proposes—by the mid 2030s—a new energy complex emerging in the town of Nikiski, a base for the oil and gas industry on the Kenai Peninsula. There, he envisions harnessing electricity from the offshore wind project to make hydrogen that could be converted into ammonia, a potential maritime fuel, or combined with carbon dioxide to produce a sustainable aviation fuel for the cargo aircraft that stop to gas up in Anchorage on trips between Asia and the Lower 48 states.

“We saw this as a step forward for the climate, and really, really good for Alaska,” said Clarke, who has partnered with another retired BP petroleum engineer, Simon Harrison, to promote the project. “Alaska has got phenomenal—absolutely phenomenal—renewable resources.”

Many Alaskans embrace energy development and that could make it easier to gain public support for large-scale renewable projects, which in other parts of the country, such as the Pacific Northwest, often have been embroiled in siting conflicts. 

[erhangwang]

DP3 - Research Project - Chinese Cockle Memorial: “It’s OK to Cry”

Week 5 - Interim Review 1

In preparation for the interim review this week, I focused on using sketches and diagrams to show the idea development section of the research project and communicate the design in more details on the section and cutaway axos.

Up to Christmas, I should keep hold of the most interesting ideas from my current project for development. I should unpack the cockling disaster more (eg did the families get subsidies, lay changes in UK) as it is the core of the concept of this project. What I have designed so far can be a memorial space as the heart of the entire project, which needs to be iterated can. I can then design the casting ground (foundation, coral beds, rock pools and lidos) and carapace (protection, Multi-layered, porous, able to unfold itself) as the additional programs of the project.

Note:

Layer that unfolds to capture more wave energy

for revealing itself, building to wear down, softer and harder areas of the same material

new layers to respond to new things

designing a myth about an area

Getting Chinese government to pay for the building

Oysters Farm in Hongkong, ignored by the new development plan, capitalist realism

More casts for structural testing - plaster eroding away, shell holding itself

ground incorporating inscriptions, symbolizing stories or names, etched deeply to stand the test of time. 

arrange significant things in ground space that are active at differing tidal heights and can operate different in differing seasons. Enchanting