#zig zag bridge

[tanuki-kimono]

Soft shine for this romantic obi depicting yatsuhashi (zigzag bridge) and blooming kakitsubata (rabbit ear iris).

Bridge and iris reference a famous poem in the Tales of Ise hinting at longing and melancholic love.

[amongemeraldclouds]

sweet dreams

It should have been simple: boy meets girl then falls in love. Except everything only happened in his dreams. Can Theodore Nott bridge the gap between fantasy and reality to get the girl of his dreams?

Inspired by Taylor Swift's song, Guilty as Sin?

Theodore Nott x f!Reader

Warning: Fluff, some smut so 18+ only MDNI, characters are aged up. Uses a magical concept that deviates from canon.

✿ Masterlist | 2.9k words

Prologue

The door creaked as you swung it open to leave The Three Broomsticks, eager to breathe in the cool evening air. You scrunched your note as smoke invaded the fresh air you hoped for and turned towards the culprit, Theodore Nott. You didn’t know him personally, but guys as popular as him did not need introduction.

He didn’t notice you as he took another puff and the streetlamp cast him in a soft halo. It was not fair how some people could look so effortlessly gorgeous. 

“Want one?” He reached out when he finally saw you staring, offering you his pack of cigarettes.

You huffed, “No thanks, I was hoping for some fresh air.”

He simply shrugged and turned the other way, smoking in a different direction and out of your way.

You hoped the cool air could return some of your sobriety, but nothing was as effective as a good ol’ near de*th experience. You looked up when you heard someone shrieking from the distance, growing louder and louder until you saw a broomstick zig zag across the sky that was quickly hurtling towards you and Theo.

Theo was quicker than you, holding his wand out and casting a spell just fast enough to redirect the impact to an open space. By the time you held your wand out, you had enough wits about you to cushion the witch’s fall.

You ran towards her to make sure she was fine. She laid on the ground as if she was peacefully sleeping, oblivious to the accident. You crouched beside her, arm outstretched to wake her when-

“Oh bumbling broomstick!” She yelled out and sat upright. You yelped in surprise, yanking yourself back and landing on your bottom. Theo was there within seconds, offering you a hand.

You took it and it was unbelievably soft, his grip strong as he supported you back up from the ground. You registered the smell of alcohol and cigarettes with a subtle hint of expensive cologne. You wanted to take another whiff, but reminded yourself to focus.

“A - are you okay?” You turned back to strange woman, careful to keep your distance this time.

“That chap knows sod all about wizard engineering. Mixing magic and muggle work - ridiculous!” she spat in disdain, dusting off her dress.

She turned around, catching your worried look and Theo’s stoic expression, noticing you both for the first time. “Oh my, where are my manners?” She asked, straightening her back and introducing herself.

“I’m Miss Amelia Adams, thank you for rescuing me,” you shook hands and smiled at her politely, introducing yourselves in return.

Your eyebrows knit together as she fished around her bag, looking for something.

She beamed when she found it and held out a daisy for you. “To properly thank you, please accept this flower,” she then leaned in conspiratorially, “it grants a wish.”

She winked before gathering herself and her ‘bumbling broomstick’ as she called it. “Well, I’m off,” she declared, walking away as quickly as she had come before you had any chance to say goodbye.

You were stunned, holding the flower in your hand. You scoffed at the idea of wishes, the only way to get something is to go out there and take it. Hard work and strategy was far more effective than any wish. After a few moments of awkward silence, you turned to Theo. “That was…” you trailed off, trying to find the right word.

“Odd,” he completed for you, just as stunned as you were.

“Are you okay?” You asked Theo. He grunts and you reassured him you’re fine in return.

“Have this flower, you saved us first. Thanks, by the way. You should get the wish,” you said casually, only half believing the mysterious Miss Amelia.

He accepted it and placed it in his coat, stoic expression still in place. When he said nothing else, you turned on your heels to go back to your friends in the pub.

You paused when Theo called after you as if saying goodbye as an afterthought. “See you at school?” He said. It seems he recognized you too.

You turned around and gave him a friendly grin, “in your dreams,” you said in a playful tone. Despite being school mates, you and Theo revolved around different orbits. You experienced just enough failed relationships to know better than to start a friendship with Mr. Emotionally Unavailable.

He just smirked and watched you go before returning to his cigarette. Had he held the flower in his hand, he would have noticed it glow before bursting into tiny glitters, a wish about to come true.

That night, Theo first dreamt of you.

Main story, months later

The booming party music faded when Theo heard the familiar sound of your laughter. He shifted in the Slytherin common room couch as his entire focus gravitated towards you like you were the sun his planet revolved around.

It was always disorienting, he thought, to hear and see you somewhere outside his dreams. Mostly because you never looked his way here but in his dreams, you’ve given him everything he ever needed and more.

He recalled the first words you ever said to him in his dream, “you again?”

“Is that such a bad thing?” He asked with his boyish grin, amused. He wasn’t used to seeing this reaction from others except for his friends.

He no longer remembered the rest of that conversation, but one minute you two were laughing at something silly and the next, he was tucked comfortably in bed. It was then he realized it was all a dream he could just laugh off and forget about. It was no longer funny by the third night he kept seeing you. 

You both discussed how absurd this all was until you realized how fun it could also be. So you tested different ways you could take your power back and control the dream you found yourselves in. He discovered you were smart and funny, it warmed something in Theo’s heart that he did not care to examine.

Soon enough, he was flying with you through the sky, swerving through clouds as the stars blurred past like strings of fairy lights. You both flew like it was the most natural thing in the world, no broomsticks needed. He felt like a kid again, fearless and free.

One time, he went to a muggle amusement park you heard so many great things about. You rode on roller coasters and ferris wheels then ate candy floss. You would have gotten a fever the next day from all the sugar and shouting if not for the fact this all happened in your dreams. He had never felt happier.

On quiet nights, you laid on cool grassy hills enjoying the evening breeze. Sometimes, you watched sunsets on the beach while listening to the ocean waves. Those were his favorite days. You told him about your big plans and ambitions. He tried to stifle his smiles, but your energy was so infectious. The world felt bigger and brighter when he was around you. 

He’d tell you about his mother. How close they were before they were permanently separated. He said he kept her alive by remembering their happy moments that he’d tell you stories about. He also talked about his strained relationship with his father and how silly his friends were, but oh how he’d d*e for them.

He found himself spilling thoughts and secrets he could never tell anyone else. He stammered every now and then, not used to opening up, but you were so patient. He felt safe with you because you’re a good listener. Besides, wasn’t he basically just talking to a figment of his imagination? He tried not to overthink it.

Theo felt the couch beside him dip as the familiar smell of smoke and cologne announced Mattheo’s presence. “Want to go for a smoke?” He asked with a smirk as he flashed a joint.

“Later, okay?” Theo replied distracted, his focus still on you.

A student rose from the couch and moved away as Lorenzo approached. Thanks to their popularity, the boys always seemed to find a convenient seat when they needed it. He joined the two with a grin, drinks in hand. Mattheo took in Enzo’s disheveled hair and loose tie. He accepted the drink and gave him a high five knowing he already had his conquest for the night. Theo accepted the drink and just held it.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Mattheo asked, taking a swig from his cup.

Enzo blushed and took a sip of his drink. “You know I never kiss and tell.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes in response, “until you’re drunk enough.” He pushed Enzo’s cup back to his mouth. “Come on, drink up.”

Theo tuned out the conversation and he saw you dancing with your friends, your hips moving to the beat of the music. His eyes darkened as he remembered how those hips rocked into his. It didn’t take long before you first kissed him under the stars when the conversation died down, simply because there was nothing else to say.

All other thoughts and sentiments could only be expressed in the way your fingers gripped his wavy hair, when he bit your bottom lip and you moaned against him. Before he knew it, you were reciting his name like a prayer even though it felt anything but sacred when he slammed his hips into your dripping cunt. He savoured the way your nails scratched his back. He didn’t know until then how someone’s grip could make him feel so wanted.

He always made sure you knew he how much he appreciated you:

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well amore.” 

“I’ll make you feel so good principessa, I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

“You’re so beautiful when you’re on your knees,” he’d say as he stuffed his hard length down your throat.

He memorized your shape and knew just where to touch you to be rewarded with your filthy moans and curses. He liked making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Loud screams, sheets gripped, chest heaving. He took delight in the way you came undone for him, your little whimpers were so cute he could not resist thrusting faster into you so he could feel you clench against his desperate cock again and again.

His favorite part was after he came inside you when you swiped your finger on your upper thigh and brought his spilled seed to your lips. You said you loved the way he tastes. He always said you could have as much as you want, he was all yours and you were his.

“Theo, mate?” Blaise called out to the unresponsive boy who gazed intently at the crowd.

He turned to Mattheo and narrowed his eyes, “how much weed did you give him?” Blaise couldn’t help but worry about his friends, it was exhausting really. Mattheo pushed Theo outside his comfort zone whereas Theo pulled Mattheo back in when he went to extremes. They always kept each other in check, but he was worried that balance could tip off at any moment. 

“Easy on the accusation, he’s a big boy. He can do what he wants,” Mattheo replies defensively. “Besides he hasn’t taken any green, he’s too high on that girl already. Been eye fucking her all night.” 

Mattheo’s harsh words finally cut through Theo’s daydreams and his jaw twitched in annoyance, “I’m not. You should talk about her more respectfully.”

Enzo chimed in, “you know I hate agreeing with Mattheo, but he’s right.” Ignoring Mattheo’s de*th glare, he continued, “there’s nothing respectful about the way you’ve been looking at that poor girl.”

Theo just rolled his eyes and groaned, not wanting to discuss this with his friends. Even if he did, he wouldn’t know where to start. Instead, he stood up and said, “I’m going out for a smoke,” and walked away before anyone could protest or go with him.

As he walked, his thoughts returned to you. One day, you laughed because of his jokes. He laughed because he was in love with you.

It was all so ridiculous, but it had been months and he could no longer deny his feelings. He always thought love was overrated. How can others go out there declaring love like it’s a wild adventure you’re about to embark on? Love that you would fight and break for? He didn’t want an adventure nor a battlefield.

Then there was you and he realized everything he knew about love had only been one version of it. Being with you restored his breath and calmed the butterflies in his stomach. It’s a love that did not challenge him to be better, but instead told him he is already good enough. That he was always enough. It’s the kind of love that felt like home. It’s what he never knew he needed.

You haunted him even when he was awake. He was always tempted to approach you to see if the things he saw in his head could be real. His only clue was the way you wore ribbons in your hair and how it matched your mood to the stories you’d tell him.

He noticed you wore red when you were angry like the time you had to do a group project by yourself. You wore blue when you felt sad and green when you felt generally peaceful. His favorite was pink because it meant you were happy. He noticed how the closer you got, you wore the pink ribbon more often. But today, you wore a black ribbon. He had never seen it before and it worried him. Then again it was only a theory, maybe it didn’t mean anything.

So he always talked himself out of approaching you. Theodore Nott was used to broken things whereas everything with you and about you was perfect. He knew at the very least to leave it well enough alone.

His thoughts carried him to the Astronomy Tower where he lit his cigarette and stared at the evening sky.

“You always seem to be polluting the fresh air I go out for.” Something in his heart froze and then burned brightly. It was you. He heard the smile in your voice before he turned around to look at you. Salazar, you were so beautiful.

“You always seem to find me when you need fresh air. Are you sure you’re not just looking for me?” He teased, but nevertheless moved to extinguish his cigarette. 

You chuckled at Mr. Arrogant who always knew his way around girls. “I was joking, keep your cigarette though your lungs probably hate you.”

He scoffed, he already hated himself. But mostly, he hated how desperately he wanted to reach out and kiss you without being a total creep. “I’ll survive,” he replied, taking a final drag before snuffing it out. “What brings you here?”

“Aside from the not-so-fresh air?” You grinned before turning serious. “This is a nice place to think.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Salazar, he’s relentless. “I’m in an impossible situation and I’m starting to lose hope,” you admit. So that’s what the black is for, Theo realized.

He scrunched his nose as he thought twice about what he was about to say. It was so silly trying to hold back when he’d give you the moon and the stars if you asked for it. “Whatever it is, you shouldn’t lose hope.”

You laughed at him and let out an exaggerated gasp, “coming from Mr. Emotionally Unavailable?”

He laughed in return, “ah, my reputation precedes me.”

“Exactly, so don’t go around saying things like that. People might think you have a heart behind that big brain of yours.”

“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” He leaned in conspiratorially.

“No, everyone would stare at you then.”

“You know it’s rude to stare.”

“Oh yeah? What should I do instead?” You challenged.

“Kiss me,” he said with a smirk, a half joke and a half plea.

You laughed and took a step back, placing distance between you. So this was how he got girls, you mused.

Salazar, he was losing you. If he was going to try, he had to be sincere. No charms, no masks. “Amore, I…” he began but grew self conscious at the nickname. “I mean, I wanted to…” he started then stopped. “I wonder if…” he tried again.

“I know,” you said, fire burning behind your eyes at recognition. This was the boy of your dreams. Awkward when he tries to be sincere and it was so adorable. It always made you feel special because you knew he had walls for the rest of the world. But with you, he was at home.

You closed the distance to meet his lips and the kiss said everything he needed to know. All those evenings together talking beneath starlit skies, exploring flesh and soul, falling in love. They were real.

His hands found the curve of your hips so naturally as he pulled you closer against him, just like he’s done countless times. He savoured the way your fingers made their way through his hair. Everything felt electric, at once new and familiar. It was better than anything you had dreamed of.

When you both broke for air, you found yourself blinking in disbelief. “How do we both have the same dreams?”

Theo just shook his head as if to say he didn’t know but then he remembered your first meeting. There was a witch with a bumbling broomstick and a flower. His eyes widened. “The flower from all those months ago.”

Your eyes lit up with remembrance, “the mysterious Miss Amelia!” You brought your hand to your lips, “I didn’t think it was real. I said you’d see me in your dreams.”

“And now you’re my dream come true, amore,” he said, pulling you in for a hug.

 You giggled at how sweet Mr. Not So Emotionally Unavailable could be. “And you’re mine. See you tonight then?”

He chuckled, “and then tomorrow I’ll take you on a real date?”

You scrunched your face, “but now we can’t fly through the stars anymore.”

“Oh, I have other ideas,” he whispered in your ear.

Your heart leapt to your throat and anticipation hummed in your veins. After all, some things were sweeter than dreams.

✿ Masterlist

A/N: I've mostly written for Enzo and Mattheo until now but when I thought of this plot, I just knew only Theo could do it justice. So this is how I wound up writing my first Theo fic. Hope you liked it!

[tuxedonet]

ঌ HAVING A BIMBO GIRLFRIEND ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ starring. hotd male cast.

" significant moments in the life of house of the dragon ⠀⠀⠀ actors with their significant other peculiar style. "

✱ MATT SMITH ──── the taming one .

he revered you fervently , really. his thorax swelled with the swash of a scalding wave , swamping in a purr of contentment as he delineated the zig―zag of your frisky teeny skirt and the swing of your denuded hips. he straightened his back and the coast of his pink mouth steepened into a sly smirk , with the pride that only a father could carry ― that your daddy should carry. don't fret , for that was what he was there for , breathing in the succulent rivulet that crammed the itty―bitty bottle of mon paris by yves saint laurent at the juncture of your clavicle.

the enthralling clatter of your pinkish platform heels gouge through the hallway of his home , prompting him of your presence long before you appeared in his office where he was striving to conclude a mailing for his agent. his black mount glasses hung loosely down the bridge of his nose , and his brow furrowed tenderly as he peered up. he got tanked on the contrast of raw denim and mulberry of your attire , your pompous lips gleaming in dior lip gloss coiled the artificially flavored sphere of a lollipop , letting it flee in a wet lashing. the peak of your fussy tongue sweeps the thin , sweetish coating of your mouth , before stamping them thunderously against his flat , satiny cheek with magnified affection.

you fall heedlessly into his lap , and his upper limb wraps around the deep arch of your waist , his thick fingers kneading the velvety flesh of your belly. his chin slump on the hill of your shoulder , pecking at your mandible. your arm tauten forward , prying deer―eyed at the sleek keyboard of his computer , twinkling in inquisitiveness.

" tsk .ᐟ don't touch that , little girl. " he hisses gruffly , with the pitch pattern of a anew awakened man , but it was solely the outcome of the cigarettes he smoked and the pure rum glasses he drank at night .

you sulk , whining. " i want to show you something , amorcito. "

he slant his head , humming unbiddenly. his leg hops in snappy , brief leaps , cooing the wrinkling frown amidst your brows.

" is it perhaps a new collection of dresses ? hmm , pretty thing ? " he inquired with the gallantry that diminished his ill―judged accusation. he perceives your perky nods , twisting your neck to ogle at him desirously. " i recall buying you some dresses last week. dare you tell me the day , beautiful? " he tattle.

your index finger fiddles with the marble polished shore of his desk , your face of porcelain misshape into a pensive countenance. " it was saturday. " you dissolve. " but i've used them all already. " you blurt woefully , and he jolt a hum once again in settlement.

" you still haven't  used  the purple one. " the ridges of your mouth droop quivering , and your arms cut cross in a relinquish tantrum.

" it doesn't look pretty on me. " you chatter in a garble timbre. matt smother a chortle behind your shoulder blade , rubbing several frail kisses instead.

he scratches the tarp of your naked stomach in succor. " to me you look  divine  in anything. " he offers mawkishly . " why don't you go and wear it  for me , heh? i promise to buy you more dresses once you wear it , darling. " he silkily commend on the curvature of your earlobe , and said in that manner makes the conception mouth―watering to your palette.

you ascend from his thigh , primed to comply. your fingers shoves the edges of your skirt below the end of the fleshy globes of your bottom.

" tsk .ᐟ give me a kiss before you leave. "

✱ EWAN MITCHELL ──── the weak in the knees one . 

poor boy , he just can't help but stare. your clothes were intrepid , appealing to the eye — bewitching to him. you strutted in pleated skirts that swayed with your cat―walk and heels that elongate your legs , mid―thigh length stockings smooth to the tact of the pads of his avid fingers and glossy lipsticks that accentuated the benign fat of your lips , scented your languid neck with expensive perfumes and decorated your wrists with multiple diamond bracelets. low waisted pants on monday mornings and freakum dresses on friday nights. each wardrobe yanked him to you , yearning to feel the ricochet material underneath his sweaty palms , to taste the artificial flavor in your mouth.

he would meticulously behold the arduous process , sitting on the toilet seat in the bathroom of the hotel room both of you were staying in. you would take great exertion to match an outfit that went associated with his on every date , an effort he took amorously to heart.

his head glided in the direction of your nimble hand , picking up hair brushes and makeup tools. he would hum thoughtlessly once you displayed the utility of each item , and enshrine them in his brain. he would timorously ask about the purpose of certain things , and even persuade you in a sunken stammer to applicate them on his sharp face. with a squeal of excitement , you always encountered yourself dusting his hoisted cheekbones with base and adding coconut lip―balm to his naturally pouty mouth.

" you look beautiful , mi amor. " you adulate your handiwork , grooming his golden brown mane backwards with a leopard patterned pocket comb.

the coast of his lips stretch into a rascal―looking grin. however , the wrinkles at the crook of his orbs attested otherwise.

he aims to the sides of his pointed nose. " does it make my eyes stand out? " he questioned , gazing plumbly at you.

you nod complacently , giving his fleecy strands the finishing touches. you cradle his sleek cheeks between your creamy palms in a distinctive strawberry―scented exfoliating scrub.

" they're poppin'  " you emphasize , and he repeats the word in a vague attempt to mimic the accent.

✱ TOM GLYNN—CARNEY ──── the bragging one .

              the both of you were a chaotic duo , a volatile combination to the public eye. tom possessed no shame whatsoever; he liked what he liked. it was his motto in life , and so far it had rooted him no severe dilemma. therefore , he didn't feel he had to elucidate to anyone why or how he had ended up with a person like you. still , he was interrogated incautiously from time to time; on radio shows , in small interviews at the premieres of his latest project or in gossip from his work friends. he tended to modestly shrug his shoulders and retort concisely , settling with a pearly smile.

nevertheless , such things become grueling over time; the more recognized he develop into , a larger amount of people desired to inquire into his atypical election of a partner. so , nit―picking and witty , he started to take you everywhere. he would show you out on red carpets and in house of the dragon press tour interviews with the edges of his mouth brushing the hint of his ears and his arm sheathed around the dip of your waist .

his thumb kneaded the suave skin under his fingertip , impeling you against his rib cage. with cheeks rosy in a peachy blush and in bashfulness as you stood fore the giant camera , you smiled angelically at the interviewer who vigorously asked him trivially about the development of his character in the second season of the famed  tv show. he managed to entail you divertingly , always delighted to brag about you. 

" aegon could never in his life get someone like her. just look how  pretty  she is in her little dress.ᐟ " he rambled in a sing―songy pitch , steeping rearward for the objective of having them catch your presence veiled below his shoulder. your hand squeezed his bicep beneath the velvety bottle―green jacket , gnawing the gloss painted supple flesh of your lower lip.

you gracefully thwack his left pectoral. " tommy , para. " you babbled above the woman's enliven gaze and words of corroboration spoken with a titanic grin.

he whir smugly , planting a resounding peck on the cotton of your flushed cheek. " they have to know i’m with the most  beautiful girl  they've ever seen. "

✱ HARRY COLLETT ──── the encouraging one .

he is very appeased , following you like a puppy behind its owner. his honeyed orbs gleamed as he took in the sparkles and jewels on your leather corset , or the pearls distributed around the edges of your flare pants. he was enraptured by your existence at all times , he couldn't get enough; not now , not never. you had him by your wide hip , snuggly tied between your bb belt.

he tends to seek your assistance when it comes to attires , sending you pictures of the outfits he will wear for max promotions interviews. he would beg at a certain point in the day for you to do the same if he didn't get a chance to see you for the time being.

he would make sure he was there , watching you at the feet of the queen―sized bed in your room , choosing and mixing outfits , a pout on your glossy pink mouth and your index finger tilted on your chin in a discerning semblance. his aid in those moments was of little use , as he claimed that everything looked good on you. he would keep quiet , then , as he didn't want you to kick him out of the bedroom.

some spontaneous dates were , even , based on shopping. most of the bags were your purchases. none had been your voluntary selection , though. harry would see anything he thinks would match with a skirt or blouse in your closet or clothes newly acquired deep in the chanel handbag sealing his forearm , and scour your regard before putting it in the bushel , buying it for you. when you grumbled at the overpriced accessories and make―up he grasped just because you had stopped to look at them in the aisle of the store , he was hasty to rebuff your perseverance of you paying for them with your money , or return them.

a small gasp erupts from his roseate , pouty mouth , fingers clutching the hanger that held the white jacket with synthetic polar bear fur detailing. " love , look. this would look good on you with your cheetah lace dress. " he comments impetuously , his bunny frontal teeth shining adoringly over the shoulder of the garment.

" it's too expensive , bebé. " you examine the miniature off―white card on the side of the fluffy fabric.

he snorts skeptically  , prudently tossing the gear into the plastic basket amidst his digits. his hand meanders against your palm , and he budge you forward.

" don't worry , it's on me. " he proclaims. " now come on , i think i saw some nice necklaces in that corner over there. "

I WANT REVENGE © TUXEDONET ╱ 2024.

[sleepynegress]

*sigh* Featurism...

So, I woke up to this shit on the Twit app and I've only hit on this issue before, but today I'm digging in. Colorism is something that is not addressed often enough, but intersected within that and even more rarely spoken about, is the issue of featurism. The young actress above just got cast as Juliet in the latest big staged prestige production of Romeo and Juliet, opposite Tom Holland. And as usual the blue-checks, everybody else including "black", and even Black regulars are all-in on the cruelty.

...But I want to breakdown a nuance that is too often skipped over when this happens. The two people named with her, give away the featurism game, here; a particularly nasty form of often internalized racism. I guarantee if the young actress looked like this?

She'd definitely still get racist attacks, but the particularly nasty shit I'm seeing attacking her looks wouldn't come. In fact, I could see some people thinking they are defending her with "but she's pretty!" or more specific... "obviously she's mixed" comments. -Something pretty much every Black woman with features that don't align with a narrow perception of blackness hear often (and we'll get to why I specified women in a minute). And don't get it twisted...

These aren't exclusively nor standard white features either (see: the many ethnic features w/in white ethnic groups that also get hit to a lesser and non-racialized degree such as large "hook" and/or Romanesque noses for example, which is definitely about anti-semitism, anti-Romani sentiment, and other disparaged/discriminated against ethnic minorities in Europe) and yes, blue eyes are naturally occurring within non-mixed and dark-skinned Black people due to a mutation called Waardenburg syndrome. But there is a REASON why fetishizing even certain ethnic features within the African continental diaspora has been a thing for a long time...i.e. "the dopest Ethiopian" from the Tribe Called Quest lyric is pictured as this:

and this:

and not this:

...despite them all being Ethiopians of various tribal ethnicities.

A wide-nose, a tighter curl, coil, or zig-zag pattern of hair, fuller lips and often, but not always (because I've given examples above where features "mitigate" skin color) darker skin. Zendaya is grouped with Tracey and Francesca Amewudah-Rivers, despite being both lighter in skin color and having a Black parent and a white parent because her nose isn't what has become the standard surgical look...that too many celebs have. This includes the ones who got so-called "ethnic" work or just a slight 'refinement'. No, her nose is born w/it, made for that good African air, as I call it. Nostrils prominent, nose bridge wide:

I went make-up free as well, because even make-up practices these days, go for that narrowing highlight technique i.e. just below it's subtle.

Sza is a an example of it taken to extremes, even with the Hollywood standard "ethnic" refinement she did get.

The thing is... I don't blame or attack her for that. Because you see above that is just a taste of what happens. Lil' Kim was relentlessly bullied by the men in her life for her ethnic features for her whole life...and that is why she is off-limits to this day for me when it comes to all the work she's had done.

...And this is where I explain why I specified men being mostly exempt. It's because "Blackness" including all the physical features associated with it, is by default masculinized. ...Which is why Idris Elba is considered one of the most handsome men in the world, w/o the caveats that even Lupita Nyong'o often gets. Nobody calls Samuel L. Jackson ugly. He is even idolized and fetishized by a specifically white male gaze for how culturally "Black" he is perceived to be for all the wrong reasons, his signature "motherfucka" for example (and I could go off on a whole other tangent here, but digressing). All this to say... Featurism sucks. It's not talked about enough. Blackness in all variations is Beautiful. Tracy Chapman looking as young she does?? Hell, mark it down to both her dark skin (a natural UV protector) and not messing with her given features (and being a lesbian, men will age you. lol -I got jokes-):

P.S. THANK GOODNESS for Tems and her rising prominence as a beauty as well:

P.P.S. Even Jay-Z the billionaire rapper has had the comments over the years about his lips and nose, hence that lyric in Beyonce's Formation.

[ninoxwof]

Qibli the Sandwing

[Image Description: A digital drawing depicting Qibli from Wings of Fire. He is small wiry with a sail that flows downward to the side like it is hair, and a zig zag scar on his nose bridge. He is a dandelion yellow, with an off-white under belly that starts at his chin. Freckles are featured all over his body on his face, legs and tail. He also has tear duct markings that are similar to a cheetah. His sail and rattle is colored brown, with his eyes and tail barb being colored an even darker brown. He has orange yellow on his paws, snout, as a dorsal stripe marking and on the arms and fingers of his wings. The webs of his wings are a duller orange color. His horns and claws are an off-white that is lighter than his underbelly. He is standing with a grin on his face, with one eye winking, and an arm lifted to show the inner side of his claw, as though he is accentuating himself. In a second image, he is wearing a cowboy hat with his horns poking out that has a piece of sky fire embedded in, a neckerchief and a golden earring with a teardrop on his left ear. /.End ID]

[loth-creatures]

Wolf Ezra's final form

Lothwolfwalkers

I've been frothing at the mouth to reveal this for some time, but I also wanted to put together a synopsis of what I imagine he's been through after getting blasted into the unknown and his time on Peridea. Also will include some lore I came up with for Peridea! This post will likely be edited/added to every so often.

Also! I have a sideblog now @lothwolfwalkers

Ezra's many new scars are mostly from the shattered glass flying around the Chimera's bridge. Thrawn has a matching set. Ezra fell into a very deep meditation upon entering hyperspace, using the Force to keep a bubble of life support for himself and Thrawn. During this time he converses with the Purrgil, and beholds way too much knowledge of the universe for one person to hold in their head. He's probably a little weird after all that; frequently spaces out very badly while experiencing intense visions of things he saw and learned but can't remember.

The Purrgil travel much faster than ships. It takes them three days to reach the other galaxy, whereas it takes the Sion a few weeks (I want the Sion's voyage to be very very miserable for everyone) I'm going wild with the ocean metaphors for space and the Force here; Ships only ever skim the surface of hyperspace, whereas the Purrgil evolved to sink far deeper, where the current is much stronger and farther from time and real space. Sort of like how we can cross the ocean's surface on ships but animals like sperm whales can dive to extraordinary depths on the power of their own biology. To the Purrgil an intergalactic voyage is a hop across the pond.

The Purrgil don't drop the Chimera off on Peridea. They track along the very edge of the galaxy and their first stop is a barren volcanic planet that I've been calling Hel in my head (gonna be leaning into the Norse mythology theme). Although if anything its more like Davy Jones' Locker from POTC: At Worlds End.

The Chimera crashes and is grounded here for several months. All the internal systems are dead, everyone is unconscious after dropping out of hyperspace (like after the jump through the star cluster to Lirasan). Ezra escapes the crash as a wolf, beyond delirious and exhausted, forgetting his human body. It's not long before he's tortured into returning to it. It's also not long before the crew of the Chimera regret that. They could barely contain him for long under normal circumstances, let alone while the ship is in shambles and their resources are limited. He certainly spends some time in the walls and any repairs they've made are severely set back by the time he decides to steal a TIE Defender and leave.

Ezra then does the only thing he can. He follows the Purrgil. With no means to navigate and no way to obtain fuel, the only path forward is that of the Purrgil, as fruitless a path as it is, for the Purrgils' destinations are isolated from any form of advanced civilization that might exist in the new galaxy. Ezra is a step ahead in terms of conserving fuel as he can hitch a ride with the Purrgil. However, Thrawn knows Ezra and the Purrgil are their only hope of navigating this strange galaxy, and surgically implanted a tiny tracker on Ezra’s human body while he had the chance. It takes Ezra several months to realize this, as Thrawn is careful about how closely they follow him. When he does, he takes the Chimera on a wild goose chase, trying to run the them out of fuel. By now he's learned he can run alongside the Purrgil as a wolf through hyperspace.

Ezra leaves his ship and body on the most barren useless planets the Purrgil stop by, and continues to follow them as a wolf for as far as he can, trying to map their routes in his head, trying to find the way home. Then doubling back in the ship, zig zagging, going in circles and doing everything he can to cover their tracks. This goes on for about a year. I suppose they must find some form of fuel somehow in order to continue that long, but its inefficient and damaging to the ships.

Thrawn occasionally threatens to recapture Ezra, in order to keep him moving, but doesn't yet know that Ezra knows about the tracker and doesn't want to give it away. Perhaps he does recapture Ezra once or twice. And immediately regrets it. No matter what they do to human Ezra, Wolf Ezra simply can't be contained and tends to short out the entire electrical system as he drifts on and off the ship, straight through the hull in his spirit form. Human Ezra causes lots of problems on the way out when he inevitably escapes. The entire crew just want him dead. But they also know he's their only chance of escaping this exile.

This cat and mouse game takes a massive toll on his own ship though, and by the time they reach Peridea, its completely broken down, out of fuel and will never get off the ground again. At this point Ezra uses the Force to locate and disable the tracker, but has no way to safely remove it from his body, which he's pretty pissed about. He disappears into Peridea's wilderness. The Chimera becomes a grounded fortress and will not lift off again for several years. While Thrawn contacts and makes allies of the Night Sisters, Ezra befriends the Noti and also becomes amicable with many of the bandit clans.

Except I'm not calling them bandits, they need actual names. After googling "old norse word for blank" a few times and taking the first result, I came up with Hundur Ridarri for the howler riders we see in the show, roughly meaning 'dog horsemen' and Vatn Fari roughly meaning 'lake farers' as I imagine Peridea having many massive lakes or seas, and many of the 'bandits' are mariners. Their ships are mostly made from the bones and skin of giant sea creatures, which they also hunt for food.

Wolf Ezra has been known to tow in derelict ships caught in storms or attacked by creatures of the deep, and has ferried survivors of shipwrecks to shore on his back. He is sometimes offered some of their catch in return. He mostly avoids them though, as they occasionally treat with Thrawn and the Sisters.

The Noti on the other hand keep to themselves and are so good at hiding that Thrawn doesn't even know about them. Ezra’s body is quite safe with them and in return he defends them and helps them find food, and is quickly adopted as one of their own. They mostly survive on the washed up corpses of lake creatures, which Ezra can sniff out from miles away, and can tear the carcasses open for them, saving hours of carving through tough skin and bone. Ezra can also stomach it as a wolf but prefers to fish along the shoreline.

Ezra can't stay undetected forever though, he's not exactly inconspicuous as a wolf. As Thrawn now has powerful allies and resources, he's made a project out of capturing Ezra and attempting to study his wolfwalker abilities, something the Sisters are intrigued by as well and keen to experiment on. The Emporer was highly interested even before they knew about healing powers and teleportation. If Thrawn is to return to the Empire, he intends to do so with something to show for it. And a bit of vengeance.

The Sisters do succeed in capturing and containing the wolf briefly several times. One of their smaller strongholds (known as Gleipnir after the string that binds Fenrir in Norse mythology) becomes increasingly dedicated to the project. Ezra always escapes, but it gets harder each time. And if they ever find his human body, it's all over.

Meanwhile, Ezra is still trying to find a way home. He has no way of carrying his human body with him, can only follow the Purrgil so far as a wolf. The further he gets from his body, the more tired and sick he becomes until he simply can't keep up and is slowly and painfully dragged back to his body through the Force. There is no chance of him crossing between the galaxies. But he tries anyway, hoping he can get stronger, run farther before faltering, hoping someday he will make it just far enough to tell someone where to look. He only succeeds in hurting himself. It's too risky to try stealing another ship off the Chimera, as they are actively using their remaining TIEs as bait and he cannot afford to get caught again now that there's a real chance he'd never escape.

The Purrgil may go to Peridea to die, but they don't all die at once; the young escort their elders to their final resting place, the elders in turn show the young where to go to visit their dead and eventually join them.

Back home, Kanan searches for Ezra through the World Between Worlds. He has no luck, as the wbw doesn't extend between galaxies. The new galaxy likely has its own version but they are not connected. Kanan feels in his heart that Ezra is alive, but has no hope of finding him. Meanwhile Sabine often has dreams as a wolf, running through the wbw, following Ezra's faint faint scent, only to run right off the edge of the map and fall to oblivion. Ezra cannot sleep as a wolf without falling straight through reality and onto the paths of the Purrgil, where every minute contains a lifetime and every pawstep crosses light years. It's so very easy to become lost.

[0v3rcast]

Gnaw (2)

(Warnings: same as the previous chapter, found here.)

One of the largest issues with going from a simulated Teyvat to an actualized Teyvat is the sheer size.

The bridge outside of Mondstadt, which takes the Traveler like fifteen seconds to cross in a sprint? That's a good two minutes of walking at the least.

The rest of Mondstadt is massive, too, of course, but it's absolutely gorgeous. Perfect grass, clear rivers and ponds, rather imposing cliffs...

Maybe the people are a little unfriendly, but hey! The land itself makes up for your now-in-the-negatives social life.

Besides, this much air and sunlight are probably a good thing. You aren't too hot, there isn't like half of a forest worth of pollen up your nose, the breeze is really nice, and nobody's come to try and maul you!

As far as sightseeing tours go, this ain't the best. But it'll do.

Plus, you're pretty sure that the theoretical tour guide probably wouldn't let you pull up all the dandelions you wanted and blow on them to make their seeds go everywhere.

There's a faint gnaw in the pit of your stomach. You've eaten some berries, a carrot you found in a crate, and another Sunsettia, but you just can't shake the feeling.

The best way your mind can think to describe it is that your teeth are dissatisfied. You didn't do enough with this meal. It just sorta happened.

Perhaps you're going insane.

(On a distant cliff, the wind brings your breathing to an Archon, who sets down his lyre and raises a bow.)

There is a faint whistle on the air, one you swear you've heard before. Then it hits you - the sound of an arrow!

By some instinct, you hurl yourself aside, slamming into the grass and dirt.

A brilliant arrow is lodged into the ground at an angle that would have firmly made itself at home in the back of your skull. Had you not just launched yourself aside, you would be dead.

And then you hear another whistle.

You scramble up onto your feet and take off in a dead sprint. Anemo-powered arrows narrowly miss you four times as you zig-zag and duck behind stones or trees.

...you think you know who this is, or at least have a damn good idea.

Venti. Barbatos. Tone-deaf bard. Alcoholic lyre dude. That one.

You curse him out under your breath. The arrows seem to be coming faster all of a sudden.

The next arrow doesn't come down with a whistle. It comes down with a scream. The Anemo-charged arrow, cloaked in a blade of wind, pierces your back and launches you through the woodlands with enough force to demolish trees like matchsticks.

You skid to a stop, a fine path of devastation and upturned soil behind you, and your head lolls up on a shattered neck to stare blankly into the sky as you slip away into darkness.

(Dendro hisses at the other elements, their vast roots curling in anger. "We should have kept them out until this was solved!"

The others say nothing. Talking will do little to protect you, and those who raise their hands against you must be punished.)

Barbatos has a nightmare that night, after killing the one who stole the face of the World-Shaper.

He has been torn from his false face, cast into the heart of a vast hurricane, the wind itself screaming in hatred and rage, every whisper now purely poisonous. Every failure mocked, every mistake repeatedly shoved into his face, and every sin accounted for.

The wind wails, slipstreams like claws raking across his elemental flesh, battering him as he's tossed from gust of wind to gust of wind.

(He is unaware that to any observer, it would look like he was a rather hated captive ball in the world's most esoteric pinball machine.)

A voice tears itself from the monstrous storm around him, echoing in the bone-shuddering blasts of thunder.

Vile little wisp! You would dare to raise a hand against the divine most holy, our maker?!

He doesn't understand, and any chance he'd have to think or speak is repeatedly knocked from his head as he crashes into walls of wind firm enough to be stone.

Immense pressure crushes down around him, stalling him in place as if grasped in the enormous hand of a titan, and he cries out at it squeezes.

He looks up as he tries in vain to wriggle and flee, and he sees. Every part of him freezes in horror.

I am Anemo. The embodiment of sky, of breath. I am the Taker of Voices.

He is brought closer to the core of light at the center of the apocalyptic current.

I had such hope for you. A God of Freedom, one who would see the oppressed liberated from their miseries! One who would cast the sadness and hatred from his people to the winds, where they would be forgotten!

One who would spread the laughter of the First Breath to all corners of this world.

One who would be their protector, hearing misfortune on the winds and striking down those who would spell disaster for us all with the wrath of a great storm.

But you have failed. You have taken up arms against the one you were made to cherish with hatred in your heart.

You have forgotten your own freedom. The freedom to think for yourself, to act without orders. To go against what is known down a new path.

He cries out as some kind of tether is cut from his body, ripped away into the vortex.

You are my Archon no more. I shall find one more suitable to the task.

Perhaps in time, the Maker will find you pitiable enough to reinstate you as my envoy to Teyvat.

Enjoy your freedom, Venti of Mondstadt.

He plummets, the wind abandoning him entirely. The ground opens, a ravenous maw, stones and bedrock ground down like sharp fangs, and he falls into a lightless darkness.

He wakes, screaming and sobbing in equal measure.

He cannot feel the wind. He cannot hear it.

At his side, the light of the false Vision gutters out, dimming until not even a spark of Anemo remains within.

(Within a frozen palace, the light of the Anemo Gnosis dulls, waiting for a host to be chosen anew.)

consciousness returns to you in bits and pieces, your entire body an immense ache. Your joints are so sore you can barely move them without feeling the urge to weep.

Your nose is filled with the scent of the ocean. You can hear waves, and ever so faintly, the calls of birds. You feel safer here, somehow, as though this place is devoid of other intelligent beings.

Your eyes close again, body exhausted and unable to resist the siren call of unconsciousness in a space without threats.

On your back is a new scar, a spiral of gold starting between your shoulderblades and reaching out towards your ribs.

(Gnaw Taglist:

@the-dumber-scaramouche @iruiji @itz-luna @itsredactedlove @thatdeadaquarius @ssak-i @imyme20 @crierofirony

Thank you all very much for your interest.)

[drstonetrivia]

Chapter 221 Trivia

I hope you like Stanley, because this is mostly about Stanley.

Once again we have Stanley represented as the knight. Sure Xeno was his original princess (even if he denies it), but now his princess seems to be the rocket.

Will Stanley get a fairy tale ending?

Xeno obviously wants to keep up his act as a villain, but Ryusui is denying him the privilege.

Stanley's original criteria for revival were loosely based on society being up and running, which is now the case as Ryusui mentions here. Like they'd agreed earlier, what Stanley did was considered justifiable acts of warfare and thus they trust him as a soldier.

Stanley and Xeno are both said to be 180 cm tall on their character files, yet in this picture there's clearly a height difference.

Obviously, the only explanation for this is so that Stanley could fondly tilt Xeno's head up towards him in the following pages.

Stan's new outfit makes him look less imposing and inhuman than his previous one, and instead mimics the buttons on the the front of a double-breasted military jacket.

The double "V" of his belt buckles could be the zig-zag of the American clothing, or it's two halves of an X.

(Conspiracies for the belt buckle, don't take these seriously:

a marker that he's loyal to Xeno

a simplification of the current KoS crossed-rockets flag

V + V = X

"V" for victory)

Stanley's scar is still here, but it's changed slightly: the line across the bridge of his nose is gone.

However it may fully disappear soon, since he'll be petrified on the rocket. This change will likely mark his atonement.

This is a brand new lighter based off the one Stanley had before they got petrified. For most of the Americas arc he simply used matches, apart from the "gag" lighter that looks like his handgun.

The math checks out.

This is, in fact, Stanley and Senku's first conversation (if you can even call this one).

Before now, Senku's never allowed Stanley to get close enough, and they never communicated directly over the radios either.

All Ryusui has wanted since he was a child was to make one of his models a reality and to pilot it himself, along with the help of his brother Sai.

Now, he's forced to sacrifice that dream for the greater good.

Sai knows this, which is why he's shown in the same room Ryusui was (across the table from him? In the same seat? It doesn't seem to be the same window, but the rocket is aligned the same.)

It looks like Stan does say the exact same thing: "dekiru ne", which literally translates to "I can". The "ne" at the end is used as a form of agreement, similar to saying "right?" in English. I sort of wish it was translated the same...

[fairykazu]

ice skating ft. childe, ayaka & amber

cws: dating: childe & ayaka, est. relationship: amber, fluff, mild cursing, implied fem bodied reader for ayaka and amber, wc for each: 1.7k, 3.3k, 1.5k

mlist | based on headcanons

childe

if you had told your past self that you're going on a date with the infamous sweetheart, ajax, you would be thinking you were going crazy. maybe even a tad delusional. but here you are sitting down on one of the wooden benches as childe helped you lace up your skates. "name, is this too uncomfortable?" he scooted back letting you wiggle your foot.

"no, it's as snug as a bug!" you replied, watching him have a sigh of relief. "okay, let me lace up the other one. is it too tight or is it okay like this one?" he pointed at the already-laced shoe.

"it's fine! are we able to be on the ice now?" you asked. ajax looked at the rink, walked to the ice and pretended to pull out a detective magnifying glass, before confirming a 'yes'. he likes to call himself the ice inspector because he was considered the best of doing so. or at least that's what his parents had told him. when he was little.

you guys were finally on the ice. unlike the girl in blue skating on the ice like she was born to and dancing so gracefully, you were like bambi. childe was teaching you to push on the other sides like a zig zag and as you were attempting just that. you lost your balance and fell on the ice. it hurts like hell but hey at least you have ice under you. "that was not as 'easy' as you made it sound, ajax." you huffed out, dramatically crossing your arms.

childe tried not to laugh as he took off his scarf and wrapped around you, you were snug again. "don't be so butthurt. it's easier for me because i grew up with it. take my hand and i'll guide you through it, okay?" he offered his hand to you, and you took it just before you two ended up interwinted on the ice. childe couldn't just help but laugh just a little bit and you joined in too.

"let's skate for real this time."

"agreed."

---

ayaka

you giggled with glee when you called your friends for a debriefing session as soon as possible. it was morning at the cat's tail with kaeya and nilou. "guys, i have a date with THE kamisato ayaka." you said, sipping your coffee. nilou gasped as kaeya rolled his eyes,

"did you really or did you have another dream again?"

"NO. it's for real this time, kae! kamisato and i. on an ice-skating date. this afternoom." you replied smugly. of course, it gets oddly silent whenever you say something big to your friends which only means one thing. they are second guessing you.... again.

nilou quirked a brow, "ice skating?" you hummed in confirmation, "yes, lulu, ice skating!" she stirred her hot chocolate with a stick as kaeya sipped his orange juice loudly, drawing your attention to him, "name, do you even know how to ice skate? last time we ice skated together, you hit the crevice of the rink, fell to your face and cried."

"in my defense, i was four when that happened. annnd yes, i do know how." nilou and kaeya shared a knowing look together before looking at you. "okay, i don't! but i kinda sort of lied to ayaka and said i do have experience with it..."

"oh my god." kaeya said with desperation as nilou pinched her nose bridge. "what if i ball it and she would never know."

nilou replied, "miss kamisato is really talented in that field, name. she would definitely know."

"for real?"

"yes."

--

it was noon, you still don't know how to skate, and you don't know how to tell ayaka that you were lying to her. thank god, the rink was inside a building instead of being outside. in a corner you saw a ginger offering his hand to his date, giggling, and you pray to have a moment like that with ayaka. across from that couple was ayaka, dressed in baby blues and whites, skating gracefully like a princess. you glanced at her in awe, she is so pretty. the word 'pretty' couldn't describe ayaka as her beauty can be like the fresh snow or something. you aren't really a person with good words but gosh, ayaka is so pretty.

you called out her name as she was twirlling on the ice, she stopped with a clean finished, specks of ice flew off her white ice skates. she saw you and smiled, skating her way near the rink, "hello, name, are you ready?"

"not quite, um, can you help me with my shoes?" you asked as she nodded. "it would be my pleasure." she opened the gate and walked with you to one of the benches stationed outside of the rink. you opened your bag and realized, you forgot kaeya's your shoes! ayaka noticed you looked lost while looking in your bag, "did you not bring your own shoes, or did you forget since you had have skated before?"

shit, you forgot you lied that you were the better ice skater than kaeya even though it was the opposite. "um, i forgot, i haven't skated in a while and my skates were pretty old and tarnished-" you started to whisper, "-because kaeya keeps stealing it."

she chuckled, "really?"

"really."

--

after ayaka helped you lace up your shoes, it was time to shine. but also known as, time to ball and hope ayaka doesn't notice. however, little did you know that ayaka already knew you didn't skate. especially when kaeya was one of her ice-skating buddies in the club. it didn't matter though since she was finally able to have a date with you despite your obliviousness to her advances.

amber

when amber said, "i know a place.", you didn't expect her to bring you into an excluded place in dragonspine that wasn't overran by abyss mages and other mobs. it was cold for sure, and you weren't sure how amber wasn't cold in her mini skirt. the evergreen trees were reaching for the skies and there was even a rock shaped like hearts. amber picked it up and said, this is us. you laughed and agreed.

once you guys ended up at the right place, a frozen over pond about 2 times bigger than the ponds you had seen in mondstadt. she pulled you into a hug and then told you a disclaimer, "by the way, babe, there is a teensy minor chance the lake might crack so if it is, i'll sacrifice my life for you. but seriously if it does crack, yell my name and we'll go the cat cafe and get coffee instead."

you exhaled a laugh, "okay, amber."

"awesome! now since that's said and done, let's party! but first, we need to have safety." she pulled out of her tote bag, knee pads, a helmet, another helmet, leg warmers and most importantly, pocket hand warmers. "wait, you know how to skate right? not in a kamisato ayaka or eula lawrence way but in a way where it's average but not too little like klee."

"yes, i promise you that i'm experienced in this."

"okay! we don't need the helmet then, i'll wear mine because it's baron bunny inspired, see?" she showed off the red helment with bunny ears. you nodded to gesture "yes, i do see it."

you and your girlfriend went off to skate and thankfully, no cracks in sight. it became a yearly tradition to go this specific place together.

[anonymousewrites]

Logos and Pathos (AOS Edition) Chapter Nineteen

AOS! Spock x Empath! Reader

Chapter Nineteen: Fulfilled Promise

Summary: Spock confronts Khan after (Y/N)'s death.

            Spock’s entrance onto the Bridge raised everyone’s alarm. His entire body was tense, and the crew members looked at him warily. They had all heard Kirk and Scotty’s tone of voice, and now that Spock looked like that…it told them something had gone wrong.

Even though Khan and the Vengeance had gone down and crashed into San Fransico and Starfleet HQ, Spock’s gaze said that the battle wasn’t over. His battle wasn’t over.

            “Search the enemy ship for signs of life,” snapped Spock, voice tight and clipped. Every part of his body thrummed with rage and grief. He wanted Khan to feel his wrath.

            “Sir, there’s no way anyone survived,” said Sulu.

            “He could,” said Spock harshly. Khan was alive. He was alive, and (Y/N) wasn’t, and Spock would make him pay for that.

            A moment later, Sulu’s scan picked up a figure. Khan, still strong as ever, jumped from the ship and slid down the broken pieces of the ship.

            “Whoa! He just jumped thirty meters!” exclaimed Sulu.

            “Can we beam him up?” said Spock, his eyes unable to leave Khan.

            “There’s too much damage. I have no incoming signal,” said Chekov.

            “Spock, what are you planning?” said Kirk, stepping up to Spock worriedly. His First Officer had never gone rogue, and the change in him was disturbing.

            “Can you beam me down?” said Spock to Chekov, completely ignoring Kirk.

            “Yes, sir,” said Sulu.

            “Ready the Transport Room,” ordered Spock, running towards the elevator.

            “Spock,” said Kirk, catching him.

            Spock whirled on him, every muscle tensed to push past his captain if needed. Nothing mattered more than avenging (Y/N).

            “Would (Y/N) want this?” asked Kirk.

            “(Y/N) is dead because of him,” replied Spock, voice cold. “He doesn’t deserve any of their kindness.”

            Kirk stepped back. Khan had killed Pike and (Y/N) on top of countless other lives. He knew (Y/N) wouldn’t have liked vengeance, but he had the same anger as Spock. Kirk wanted Khan to be stopped, and he couldn’t stop Spock.

            “Go get him,” said Kirk, squeezing Spock’s shoulders.

            Not bothering to respond, Kirk raced into the elevator and towards the Transporter. Armed with a phaser, he arrived in.

            “Stand by for coordinates,” he commanded.

            Chekov relayed the coordinates from the Bridge, and the Transport crewmen punched it in. Spock dematerialized with his phaser raised.

l

            Spock materialized in the middle of a fearful, confused crowd, and his head snapped around to find Khan.

            Their eyes met. Spock’s eyes narrowed. Khan ran.

            Spock pursued him, refusing to let him disappear into the crowd. Khan shoved people aside and entered a building, but Spock dodged the fallen people and continued to follow him. Khan didn’t bother to open a door and crashed through the glass, and Spock’s botos crunched over the shards. Khan exited the building and zig-zagged through stairs, but those obstacles were nothing to Spock. While Khan’s stamina was endless, Spock’s rage refused to die as well.

            Crossing a street, Khan forced cars to stop, and his escape remained unimpeded. However, Spock’s pursuit was fueled by equal parts ambition and rage, and he was undeterred.

            Khan leapt from the street and onto a carrier lifting into the air. He watched in satisfaction as it rose above Spock. His smirk fell as Spock jumped and grabbed onto the bottom of the carrier. Pulling himself up, Spock caught sight of Khan once more. Khan stamped down on his hand, and Spock let out a cry. His phaser fell away to the ground far below.

            Viciously, Khan grabbed Spock and threw him against the side of the carrier. Spock jumped to his feet and ducked Khan’s next punch. He side-stepped Khan and punched, connecting with Khan’s cheek. Khan barely stumbled, but anger coursed through Spock and spurred him forward. His Vulcan strength was affecting Khan, even if a little.

            Furious at being hit, Khan redoubled his efforts, and Spock grappled with him. They exchanged blows, each managing to avoid being completely taken out but taking their share of bruises as they dealt out attacks.

            Spock grabbed Khan’s next and pinched it. Instead of sending him to sleep, the Vulcan Nerve Pinch only caused Khan frustration and pain due to his resilience. He let out an angry yell and nearly went to his knees. However, Khan grabbed Spock’s wrist and flipped it over awkwardly. Spock was forced to let go, and Khan punched him. Then, he grabbed Spock’s neck, forced him upright, and punched him again.

            Spock hit the top of the metal carrier hard, and Khan loomed over him. He grabbed the sides of his head and pressed inwards. Spock grabbed his hands and tried to pull Khan’s grip away. When that didn’t work, Spock took desperate, private measures.

            Spock pressed his fingers to Khan’s temple and forced a mind meld. Spock pressed all of his anger and grief into Khan, mimicking (Y/N)’s empathy by sharing all of his pain with Khan. He let out a cry and kneed Spock in the stomach to force him away. Khan took a step back and panted as Spock groaned. Turning to spot another carrier, Khan jumped.

            He landed on the carrier below and looked back up at Spock. He wasn’t a superior human. He couldn’t do what Khan did.

            But Spock was braver than Khan could ever be, and, knowing (Y/N) would have courage, Spock was willing to risk everything to gain his vengeance against Khan. Spock ran and jumped into the open air. He landed on the metal carrier below and rolled back. He grabbed onto the edge with barely enough time to hang on for his own life. But Spock had survived the jump.

            Khan stared in frustrated disbelief as Spock pulled himself up. He kicked Spock back and grabbed his collar to punch him several more times. Then, Khan grabbed Spock’s head again and pressed inwards.

            “You,” he sneered. “You inferior thing. Half-human, half-Vulcan, completely inferior!” Khan glared at Spock. “So what made you special to them? Nothing is special about you. You’re nothing compared to me. No one is.”

            “You…lost!” said Spock, pulling his hands away. “Because someone with more bravery than you could ever have sacrificed everything.”

            “Bravery…more like stupidity,” growled Khan, trying to crush Spock between his hands like he wanted to with his own insecurities and anger at being defeated.

            Behind Khan and Spock, Transporter energy appeared, and it swirled into the form of Kirk. He stood with a phaser in hand and spun towards Khan and Spock. Khan whirled on Kirk, but Kirk fired the phaser—on stun—over-and-over into him. Khan flinched but continued approaching Kirk.

            Spock tore a piece of metal from the carrier and grabbed Khan’s shoulder. Khan turned, and Spock hit him across the face. While Kirk kept the phaser trained on Khan, Spock grabbed his arm, braced it across his shoulder, and pulled.

            Snap!

            Khan shouted in anger and pain as his arm broke. He had been wrong—Spock could break bone.

            “Spock!” shouted Kirk.

            Spock ignored him. Grabbing Khan’s disoriented body, he flipped him and slammed him onto the metal. He pinned him down and punched him again and again. Every bit of his grief and anger and pure fury at having lost (Y/N)—the person he loved most—went into his attacks. Khan couldn’t take a single moment to recover. He was at Spock’s mercy, and Spock had none left to give.

            “Spock!” Kirk knelt and stared at Spock desperately. “Spock, stop!” But Spock was blind with rage, blind to anything but revenge. “He’s our only chance to save (Y/N)!” Kirk used the one phrase he knew could get Spock back.

            Save (Y/N).

            Spock froze and looked at Kirk. Kirk gazed back at him with such intensity that Spock knew he was telling the truth. Spock looked back down at Khan. He raised his fist and punched him one last time.

            Khan’s consciousness was knocked from him, and he went limp.

            Khan was defeated. Spock stood victorious.

            And he had a chance to save (Y/N).

l

            “(Y/N)…I feel the same. I love you.”

            “I have loved you for longer than I knew the words for it.”

            “May I kiss you?”

            “I love you, T’hy’la.”

            “Beloved.”

            “T’hy’la, keep your eyes open. Stay with me…Please…”

            “Please. Please, open your eyes, T’hy’la.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes opened slowly to bright white light. A familiar voice spoke to them, pulling them from the depths of their own mind and the infinite blackness that surrounded them. They blinked.

            In an instant, a hand was in theirs, and two fingers pressed against theirs. (Y/N) smiled as they felt the familiar, comforting aura.

            “Spock,” they said softly, turning their head.

            He gazed at them from beside their hospital bed, searching their face for signs of discomfort. “You’re alright, T’hy’la,” said Spock, comforting himself as well as them. After all, (Y/N) had been dead. They had barely been saved, and until they awoke, Spock had been left in the greatest fear of his life. “You’re alive.”

            (Y/N) smiled. “I promised I’d come back.” They pressed their fingers against Spocks’ again. “And I don’t break my promises.”

            “I am very glad you are alive, T’hy’la,” said Spock. “I thought…I thought I had lost you. It was a terrible thought.”

            “I’m sorry that I worried you, Spock,” said (Y/N) softly.

            Spock shook his head. “It is unavoidable for me to worry for you. I love you, T’hy’la. I will always worry for you. I want the best for you. I couldn’t—can’t—stand the thought of leaving you to die.”

            (Y/N) smiled. “I love you, too, Spock.” They chose not to mention that Spock had learned what they had at the volcano—that people would risk everything to protect those they loved. “I love you so, so much.”

            Tears came to (Y/N)’s eyes as all the emotions they’d gone through until then came through them. The fear of losing their friends. The anger at Khan. The fear of death. Dying.

            But they were alive. They were holding the hand of the man they loved. (Y/N) was alive and filled with every positive emotion possible, burning with warmth.

            “I love you, Spock,” said (Y/N), gazing at him with pure love and emotion.

            Spock raised his other hand and wiped their tears of relief away. He leaned in. “I love you, too, T’hy’la.” He kissed them. He showed them his love, the best medicine he could give, for his own heart and theirs.

l

            “There will always be those who mean to do us harm,” said Kirk. “To stop them, we risk awakening the same evil within ourselves. Our first instinct is to seek revenge when those we love are taken from us.”

            (Y/N) touched Spock’s fingers at the words. They gazed at the flag being folded in honor of Pike and all the other lives lost against Khan. Around them, people sat with solemn auras and expressions.

            “But that’s not who we are,” continued Kirk.

            (Y/N) pressed their fingers properly against Spock’s, and he returned the quiet gesture.

            “We are here today to rechristen the U.S.S. Enterprise and to honor those who lost their lives nearly one year ago,” said Kirk, looking out at the crowd. “When Christopher Pike first gave me his ship, he had me recite the Captain’s Oath, words I didn’t appreciate at the time. Now I see them as a call for us to remember who we once were and who we must be again. And those words?”

            “Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise and her five-year mission to explore strange new worlds. To seek out new life and new civilizations. To boldly go where no one has gone before.”

l

            “Captain on the Bridge,” announced Chekov.

            Kirk strolled onto the Bridge and smiled at everyone. The newly-rebuilt Enterprise was completely repaired and gleaming in the lights and joy of its crew. Kirk chuckled as he saw Sulu sitting in the captain’s chair.

            “It’s hard to get out of it once you’ve had a taste, isn’t that right, Mr. Sulu?” teased Kirk.

            Sulu stood. “ ‘Captain’ does have a nice ring to it,” he said playfully. “Chair’s all yours, sir.”

            Kirk smiled and opened a comms channel. “Mr. Scott. How’s our core?”

            “Purring like a kitten, Captain,” came Scotty’s pleased reply. “She’s ready for a long journey.”

            “Excellent,” said Kirk. He clapped Bones on the back. “Come on, Bones! It’s gonna be fun!”

            “Five years in space. God help me,” grumbled Bones.

            “Don’t worry, Bones. You have the best company,” teased (Y/N), coming onto the Bridge with Spock.

            Kirk smiled broadly. “Spock. (Y/N). Glad to see you.”

            “We’re glad to be here, Captain,” said (Y/N).

            “Captain,” greeted Spock.

            “Oh, god, I forgot I was stuck for give years for the lovebirds,” groaned Bones.

            “Bones, I have a feeling they’re going to have the steadiest relationship,” laughed Kirk. He patted (Y/N) and Spock on the shoulders, and his smile became gentler. “Really, though. I’m glad to have you both.” He looked out at the stars stretching into infinity before them. “Where shall we go?”

            “As a mission of this duration has never been attempted, we defer to your good judgement, Captain,” said Spock.

            “We know you’ll do the right thing,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            The two took their places at their stations as Kirk sat down in his chair.

            “Mr. Sulu, take us out,” he said, and he leaned back.

            “Aye, Captain,” said Sulu.

            The Enterprise jumped to warp.

            (Y/N) and Spock looked at one another, and (Y/N) smiled while Spock gazed back with equal fondness. They had faced so much destruction and death and overcome it all. They were still together. They always would be.

            (Y/N) and Spock had each other. They had their love. That was all they needed.

Taglist:

@a-ofzest

@grippleback-galaxy

@genderfluid-anime-goth

@groovy-lady

@im-making-an-effort

@unending-screaming

@h-l-vlovesvintage

@neenieweenie

@keylimeconstellation

@wormwig

@technikerin23

@ilyatan

@nthdarkqueen

@kyalov

@starlit-cass

@rookietrek

@gingertimelord

[nuri148]

Distances in AoT

Or: Yams has no idea of geography and the relationship between distance and travel times in AOT makes no sense.

After a long time in the works, I present to you this 3-part, long af essay about the above statement. Grab your copy of Aot and your calculator and buckle up!

Disclaimer: I’m not a numbers girl. I always struggled with math at school and cannot determine how much each party needs to chip in for a group outing without an excel spreadsheet. And yet the numbers in AoT are so out of proportion that even with my limited math talent I realised what a train wreck they were.

PART ONE: SCALE

The manga, and later the anime, inform us that there are 250 km from the center of the walls to Wall Sina; 130 km from wall Sina to Wall Rose; and 100 km from Wall Rose to Wall Maria.

For the sake of simplicity, I’m going to ignore a few facts that should be painfully obvious in a real-life setting:

1) The walls could never be perfectly circular. Because...

2) Terrain, even in super duper flat places like the Argentine Pampas or the Netherlands1, is never completely flat and never completely uniform. So, even in the Great Plains, the 230 km (equivalent to the distance from Ehrmich to Shiganshina) between Wichita and Oklahoma City, as the crow flies, become 238 km when made in a car – or 256 km on a bike (since bikes can’t take the highway). Likewise, the rougher the terrain, the higher the difference. Salzburg and Linz, in Austria, are merely 100 km away in a straight line, but the shortest route is 124 km.

And bear in mind this distances are on modern roads in modern countries, built with technology that allow us to circumvent geographical accidents such as rivers, canyons or mountains with cool bridges and tunnels. The world in which AoT is set doesn’t have those. If a river is down a canyon, first they’ll need to zig-zag down the canyon, then cross the river (via bridge or ferry at best, fording it at worst), then zig-zag all the way up again. This happens still today, even in our modern whitebread world, in places where the traffic doesn’t justify building a big-ass bridge over the canyon. When I lived in Germany, it was like that to go to the next town.

But, as I said, for the sake of simplicity, I’m going to pretend the walls are perfectly round, the terrain is perfectly flat, and that there is a straigh-ass road, as straight as Argentina’s 22 National Road between Río Colorado and Choele Choel, between each of the Wall Districts. For simplicity reasons too, I won’t be using decimals or taking the thickness of the walls into consideration.

I’m also going to assume (though this is pretty much confirmed by canon), that the only passage between walls is through the Districts.

You’ve likely seen the basic layout plenty of times over the internet.

Well, Let’s start by saying I have a huge problem with this layout. If you bother to separate walls S-R-M to scale with their informed size, the sizes used to depict the Districts are always wildly out of all proportion².

From the several panoramic views of Sigansina, Trost, etc. that are shown in the manga³, and considering the usual sizes of German-style 17th-19th century houses, which is what’s shown from down in the streets (and I’m familiar with from my time living there), the districts seem to be, at the very most, 5 km from the main wall to the district outer wall⁴, with a bridge over the river every 500 m or so. (The walls are usually visible whenever they are in the districts, so you know it’s a small area.) Yet as you’ve seen, most maps show the districts ridiculously large, going to even half the distance between walls. This not only contradicts canon, but defeats the in-canon purpose of building a concentrated, out-jutting urban area to concentrate possible titan attacks there and eliminate the threat more easily.

So in my map, I’ve adjusted the size of the districts to roughly 5 × 5 km. They look almost like dots. That’s another problem of the disproportionate maps that populate the web: it makes you lose sense of just how big the walls are.

Districts of Paradis: Mitras (center); to the East: Stohess, Karanes, Holst (from AotBTF); To the West: Yarkell, Krolva, Quinta (from AotHMOTC); to the South: Ehrmich, Trost, Shiganshina; To the North: Orvud, Utopia, [unknown].

Now, geometry is a wonderful thing. If you know the radius of a circumference, you can calculate all other possible measurements in that circumference. And in this day and age, with computers, you don’t even need to learn formulas or crunch numbers. Yay Math.

So, if radius Mt-S (Mitras-Sina) is 250 km, and wall Rose is 130 km further, and wall Maria 100 km further still, the radius Mt-R is 380 km and the radius Mt-M is 480 km.

The Districts are lined up with the cardinal points. Therefore, to go from a district on the N-S axis (e.g. Ehrmich) to the corresponding one on the W-E axis (e.g. Stohess), you have basically three options:

Route 1) Take roads we know nothing about. The most likely, logical option in a realistic scenario, unfortunately un-checkable. Also slower than the following two hipothetical routes.

Route 2) Ride atop or along the wall. For numbers, I’m assuming a flat wall top. Because we know the radius of the walls, we can calculate the arc length between any two districts (blue in map).

Route 3) Use an imaginary, straigh-ass road between two adjacent districts on a given wall (e.g. Ehrmich-Stohess, Trost-Krolva). Again, because we know the radius of the walls, and the angle of separation of the districts (90°) we can calculate the length of this chord line (brown in map). Note that this solution doesn’t work for districts in Wall Maria, as the resulting chord would intersect wall Rose, and there is no passage there (red in map).

So, how long are these distances? EXTREMELY.

The Arc distance (riding along the wall) between adjacent wall districts is:

Wall Sina (e.g. Ermich-Stohess): 393 km (more or less equivalent to a straight line from Mar del Plata to Buenos Aires).

Wall Rose (e.g. Trost-Karanes): 597 km (Paris-Montpellier).

Wall Maria (e.g. Shiganshina to Quinta): a whooping 754 km (San Diego-Sacramento)

The Chord line distance (straight line between two adjacent wall districts) is shorter, but not by that much (about 10 % less):

Wall Sina: 352 km (Mar del Plata-La Plata)

Wall Rose: 537 km (Paris-Orange)

Wall Maria: 679 km in theory (San Diego-San José) but, as explained, the chord line between Wall Maria districts is interrupted by Wall Rose, so that route is out. The shortest alternative would be to ride in a very slight curve approximating Rose; I couldn’t find a suitable calculator to let my mathematically challenged self get the exact number but I reckon it’s around 700-720 km (San Diego-San Francisco).

The takeout from this is that distances in AoT are HUGE.

Moreover: We know the island of Paradis is based on the island of Madagascar. The diameter of Wall Maria is 960 km (480 × 2), but the island of Madagascar has a maximum width of roughly 590 km.

So we have two scenarios here:

1) The world of AoT happens in a very big planet

2) Yams (and his editors) suck at maths and spacial awareness big time.

Guess which one I’m betting on.

Part 2 Part 3

Notes:

¹ Having grown up in Argentina and living in Europe, but also mindful that many reading this are from the US, I’ve mixed cities from all those locations as real-life examples.

² There is one and one map only, in chapter 5 of the manga, that depicts the walls more or less realistically, but it also shows the geography within the walls as pretty non-flat, non uniform, no straight-roads, so I’m being very generous with my calculations here, borderline delulu.

 ³ I was going to illustrate this with a few shots of the districts, but as I started gathering said shots from the manga I found myself opening yet another can of worms, for the differences in size of a given city between chapters are enough to merit their own post I’m afraid. Not that I can commit to one atm.

⁴ Though, realistically, European medieval walled towns were no larger than 1 km across. Nördlingen, in which Shiganshina is inspired, as well as Rothenburg o.d. Tauber and other partially preserved walled towns are 500 m in diameter.

[tanuki-kimono]

Fantastic openwork embroidery for this summer kimono depicting Hagi (bushclover) and kakitsubata (rabbit ear iris) by a yatsuhashi (zig-zag bridge).

Bridge and iris reference a famous poem in the Tales of Ise hinting at longing and melancholic love.

[klbwriting]

Broken Prism

Chapter 5

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Toddxfemale!Reader

Warnings: violence

Summary: Jason takes a joyride in a chopper

That conversation had gone about as well as Jason thought it would. He frowned; guess he knew her name now. He didn’t hate knowing but was disappointed all the same. But he was used to disappointment, used to being a disappointment on top of it. He was surprised to realize that she was so angry about what had happened. They’d never even met but the venom in her voice, throwing something at Batman despite the fear he inspired in most people, was impressive. He felt a bit of heat in his chest at that, warmth that he hadn’t felt in years. It was nice someone thought he was worth enough to be pissed about his death. He waited for over an hour after Batman left, watching her pace the apartment. Once he figured she wasn’t going anywhere for the night he took off, he had business with Black Mask to attend to.

Black Mask had been able to take control of the city, first time in a long time someone had that much power and well, Jason wanted that to end. He knew the Mask had a delivery that night, some high-powered weapons and explosives, stuff that Jason could use and store up. He would need supplies to give to his friends for what came next. He knew the shipment was being exchanged on a rooftop in New Gotham, one of the buildings Mask had bought up a few weeks ago, the perfect place for a quick drop and dispersal to all his goons in the city. Jason got there early, tying up and staging Mask’s men so they looked ready to take shipment. Then he waited in his own Black Mask approved uniform.

The helicopter set down right on time and Jason approached. The pilot was annoyed, knowing that all of the guys should have been moving, but Jason made quick work of them, leaving the unconscious but alive pilots on the roof. He was feeling generous. Maybe seeing his soulmate made him nicer. Either way he left them there, noticing Batman and Robin arrive just as he was flying away. He had expected this, what he hadn’t expected was for Batman to shoot the harpoon at the helicopter and miss. He must really have been thrown by YN’s questions about Robin. Jason was away before either of the two vigilantes could catch up. He landed by one of his safehouses on the docks, getting the hired guys he had to unload the goods and get rid of the chopper. This was a waypoint for him, and he needed to get moving before Black Mask sent his own guys to take back what he’d taken.

Jason moved through the weapons, selecting the ones he wanted most, loading them into a duffle and leaving the rest for the mercenaries. He was just speeding out of the warehouse on his bike when several cars sped past him, the last one turning to follow him. He manuvered in and out of cars on the road, hearing them getting sideswiped or crashing behind you as Mask’s guys tried to catch up. He needed a place he could turn and shoot, a clear sight of the tires. He had a map in his head, remembering the on ramp that was coming up, get on the ramp, sharp left to turn on the bridge, the bike could handle it with speed, the car would need to slow. Perfect. He shifted gears and zig-zagged between a couple cars at the red light, moving up the ramp. The car behind him plowed through the stopped vehicles, tearing metal screeching behind him. Jason shivered involuntarily, the bike doing the same and he almost lost control. He took a deep breath and refocused, hitting the top of the ramp at a good speed, wrenching the handlebars to turn left. Once he was in place, he pulled his gun and looked at the car that was just getting to the top of the ramp. He fired; his aim true as always. The cars front tire exploded, sending the drivers side down to the pavement, startling the driver enough that he swerved the wheel, hitting the gas instead of the brake, and crashing in the barrier that separated the lanes. The passenger was sent through the windshield completely, landing in oncoming traffic. Jason heard the honking and the tires squealing as he drove off to his farthest safehouse in the Bowery, wanting to put as much distance between Black Mask and himself.

The gear he had stolen had trackers he figured so he dumped them into the river before going to his humble little apartment. It was completely off the books, no landlord, just an old forgotten building that he could squat in for a few weeks before moving on. He sorted and catalogued the new weapons, guns, some grenades, a very nice machete he hoped he could use soon, maybe on Joker. The thought stopped him, and he smiled. Ya, Joker, Jason really wanted to go give him a visit. He stood, but stumbled because the next thought after Joker was off the crowbar hitting his side, tearing flesh so deep he swore he had seen his intestines starting to leak out. He bent double as another vision, his head, smacking on the cement and the distinct feeling of something breaking in there, his brain bleeding. An iron, metallic taste in his mouth as he coughed up red. He closed his eyes, grabbing his helmet. He didn’t know what he was thinking, what he was doing, but he was back on his bike, then he was in front of her apartment. Then he was knocking on her front door. He heard the lock click and came to his senses, turning and taking off down the hallway. He heard her yell after him, her footsteps following him down the stairs. He was outside and on his bike again. A hand grabbed his arm, but not quick enough, he was gone again. What was he thinking? He couldn’t bring her into this. She would be in danger. What right did he have to a soulmate if he was only going to get her killed? He didn’t stop until he reached another safehouse, this one in the East End. He climbed the stairs to his parents’ apartment; laid in the old bed he had slept in as a child and for the first time since he returned Jason Todd cried. He mourned his parents, he mourned the relationship he couldn’t have, what he knew his pesky heart wanted, and then he mourned himself. The child he was that he never got to see grow up.

You had no idea what had just happened. It was nearly 2AM and you heard banging on your door. It was an idiotic move to open the door to a stranger at this time of night in Gotham but even in your sleepy daze you had needed to open it, knowing that someone important was on the other side. You had seen the helmet, the leather jacket. You didn’t even get a word out and he was running. Your feet were bare, and you had no jacket, but you didn’t care, chasing him down the stairs in your pajamas. You thought you had him at the curb, touching his arm, but he took off, making you fall to the sidewalk, catching yourself just before you broke your nose on the pavement. He had come to find you. Red Hood, maybe Robin, maybe your soulmate whose name started with J. Why? Why had he come and just ran like that? You climbed the stairs back to your apartment considering all of this, but honestly, you had no idea.

Did he want to see you? Did he not? Was he in trouble? O for fuck’s sake, why couldn’t your soulmate be just a regular person? Why did they have to be a vigilante that died and came back to life? There weren’t support groups for things like that. Therapy didn’t cover that shit, not that you had insurance to cover therapy. You groaned, climbing back into bed and staring at your ceiling. Tomorrow, you needed to find Bruce Wayne again. You needed more answers.

[power-chords]

Zig-zags... switchbacks... what could it mean! Many possible culprits (and maybe all):

There is also Italo Calvino (from Invisible Cities, 1972):

In Esmeralda, city of water, a network of canals and a network of streets span and intersect each other. To go from one place to another you have always the choice between land and boat: and since the shortest distance between two points in Esmeralda is not a straight line but a zigzag that ramifies in tortuous optional routes, the ways that open to each passerby are never two, but many, and they increase further for those who alternate a stretch by boat with one on dry land.

And again:

“Happy the man who has Phyllis before his eyes each day and who never ceases seeing the things it contains,” you cry, with regret at having to leave the city when you can barely graze it with your glance. But it so happens that, instead, you must stay in Phyllis and spend the rest of your days there. Soon the city fades before your eyes, the rose windows are expunged, the statues on the corbels, the domes. Like all of Phyllis’ inhabitants, you follow zigzag lines from one street to another, you distinguish the patches of sunlight from the patches of shade, a door here, a stairway there, a bench where you can put down your basket, a hole where your foot stumbles if you are not careful. All the rest of the city is invisible. Phyllis is a space in which routes are drawn between points suspended in the void: the shortest way to reach that certain merchant’s tent, avoiding that certain creditor’s window. Your footsteps follow not what is outside the eyes, but what is within, buried, erased. If, of two arcades, one continues to seem more joyous, it is because thirty years ago a girl went by there, with broad, embroidered sleeves, or else it is only because that arcade catches the light at a certain hour like that other arcade, you cannot recall where. Millions of eyes look up at windows, bridges, capers, and they might be scanning a blank page. Many are the cities like Phyllis, which elude the gaze of all, except the man who catches them by surprise.

And, last but almost certainly not least, there is the shalshelet, the cantillation mark, the "mark of ambivalence":

Let us investigate but one of the notes of accentuation – the shalshelet – which appears only a mere four times in the entire Torah. Adding to the significance implied by the rarity of its occurrence, is the unusual demand that the shalshelet places upon the reader of the Torah – forcing a threefold extension of the vocalization of the letter it marks. As such, this cantillation draws particular attention from the listening audience; what wisdom is it trying to impart?

[adobe-outdesign]

now with [SPOILERS] a new evo announced, can you review duraludon and its upcoming Urban Expansion?

I'll be honest, I've never been the biggest Duraludon fan. I do think the idea of a kaiju-mon that's basically the building that kaiju normally knock over is extremely fun, and it being able to drop down to basically become a laser cannon is also pretty neat.

However, it's just always been way too stiff for my tastes. I feel like being able to imagine how a Pokemon lives in its environment and functions is important, but with this design it's straight-up impossible to picture how it even moves. It's mostly just the body being a singular unit, combined with the legs having no joints, that really does it for me.

(Pictured: Duraludon, in the middle of realizing there's no way it can actually eat that plate of food)

Visually, it's alright—the zig-zag down its side is neat, the dark blue accents are nice, and the head shape is interesting. However, I do feel like it's hard to figure out what it's going for at first, and the random bit of red above the head adds nothing.

Admittedly, the g-max form is pretty fun. Obviously the stiffness thing is still an issue, arguably even more so, but at least the building theme's a lot clearer now. Not only is it a skyscraper, it seems to be The Shard specially, the tallest building in the UK:

Which makes sense thematically for a g-max, given that the entire idea is that it's a "bigger" version of the original both conceptually and literally.

Visually, I like the addition of the light blue accents, and how the stomach gains kind of a glass window-like look instead of the entire body. It's also neat how the head becomes a helicopter pad. I do think the dark blue areas on the hands should've become lighter blue to match, but still, this is an effective albeit silly improvement over the original.

Duraludon was kind of a weird choice for an evo, given that it was already pretty strong as-is, but I guess they wanted to compensate for it looking it's g-max form. And, thankfully, we did get a pretty good design out of it.

Archaludon's still too stiff for my tastes, but I do like it more than Duraludon and its g-max. It feels like a good blend between the two, wherein it has more of the subtly present with Duraludon but a clearer theme more like the g-max form.

First, it can form a bridge when it drops down onto all fours. This is a neat practical element that's fairly clear even in the base design. It's also neat because The Shard is also known as, to quote Wikipedia, "the Shard London Bridge and formerly London Bridge Tower".

The additions of blue and red along the front really make the design pop more, and feel like a good continuation of Duraludon's more subdued palette. This color expansion, along with the forked tail, head spikes, and exaggerated limbs, do make it look stronger than it's pre-evo. Also, the little gold tips on the limbs compliment the eyes and are nice touches, while the strange arm shape now serves a clear purpose in the design. It's still not my favorite thing in the world, but Archaludon's definitely my favorite design out of the three, and the line as a whole feels a lot more complete now.

Anyway, overall: Duraludon has a fun concept, but is a bit too stiff and vague for its own good. The g-max is a bit over-the-top but is much clearer thematically, and Archaludon is the best out of the bunch.

[jinxedruby]

Ambush at the Bridge: Chapter Two

In which Wild has a bad time. (Heads up for violence and blood in this chapter.)

AO3

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Wild breathed silently through his mouth, first two fingertips rested lightly against the bowstring. Four monsters lumbered past beneath him, unaware of his presence. He leaned forward slightly, the bark of the thick branch he sat on digging into his legs. He took a breath and drew the bow back, arrowhead following the lizalfos in the back of the group. He held his breath as he aimed, keeping his arms steady. He pulled his fingers back and the arrow flew, burying into the lizalfos’s skull. Before its body hit the ground, Wild nocked and let loose a second arrow, killing the next lizalfos. The remaining two whipped around, searching for their assailant. Wild put an arrow through the third lizalfos before the fourth finally spotted him. It screeched and dashed toward the tree, zig-zagging and making it harder for Wild to hit it. It stopped in place for a moment, readying to spit water at the hero. A moment was all he needed to steady his aim and hit the monster right between the eyes.

Wild exhaled as the monster fell, slumping back against the tree trunk. He shook the cramp out of his hand from holding the bow and looked around. Still no sign of the others. He had gotten separated almost as soon as the monsters ambushed them at the bridge. In hindsight, bouncing off the top of a bokoblin’s head with his shield to try and flank the monsters may not have been the best idea. In his defense, he didn’t know that bokoblins’ heads were like trampolines and would send him hurtling into the nearby woods. At least his display had led several of the monsters after him and away from the others. He’d managed to pick off quite a few from his position in the trees.

The sound of clashing metal grabbed his attention. He stood up, nimbly moving from branch to branch, trying to see where the sound came from. A flash of color moved in the distance. Wild headed toward it, hopping quietly to a different tree. He skirted around the trunk, holding a branch over his head for support. Swords clanged again and Four stumbled into view. The little hero leapt to the side, breathing hard as a massive spear whistled through the air where he’d been moments earlier. Wild scurried forward along the branch, trying to get a view of the monster Four was fighting. Four whipped his sword up just in time to block another blow, redirecting the spearhead to the ground beside him. Wild’s eyes widened at the size of the weapon as it was yanked back out of the dirt, clumps of grass uprooting from the motion. The spearhead alone was at least double Four’s height, if not more.

Four darted out of Wild’s view and Wild jumped to a nearby tree. Four had shifted so the monster was between him and Wild. Wild caught a flash of pink flesh and heard a low growl. He could just see the monster’s brown boots and most of the beast’s legs. But no matter where he moved in the tree, he couldn’t see the monster’s head. He glanced frantically at the ground. Probably too far to jump without hurting himself. He could use his paraglider but he needed his hands free to use his bow. He heard a loud thwack followed by a strangled shout from Four. Wild gritted his teeth. He fell into a crouch, hooked his legs around the branch and fell backwards. Hanging upside down from his knees around the branch, he got a full view of the fattest, ugliest moblin he’d ever seen. It was at least twice Time’s height and it absolutely dwarfed Four. Four, who lay flat on his back, blood streaming from his nose and looking dazedly up at the moblin as it raised its spear over its head. Wild yanked an arrow out of his quiver, nocked, and fired it in less than a second. The arrow slammed into the back of the moblin’s neck, sinking deep into its skin. But the monster didn’t fall. It slowly turned around, blue eyes fixing on Wild with a hunger he really didn’t like.

He fired another arrow but the creature brought up its shield, the arrow pinging harmlessly off of the metal. With a roar, the moblin charged, spear lowered and poised to skewer Wild. He grunted as he curled upwards, pulling himself out of the way just in time. He drew his bow as the monster rushed by, shooting its neck again. The moblin stumbled but didn’t fall. It turned, reaching up, fingers stretching for Wild. He darted out of the way, preparing to fire again. Then the moblin grabbed the branch he stood on and pulled, snapping it off the tree like a twig. Wild gasped as he plummeted, the ground quickly rising to meet him. But he still had his arrow ready. He drew back the string and it was as if time slowed. He fired an arrow into the moblin’s face, then another, and another, and another until the monster’s head resembled a pincushion. The ground abruptly met Wild’s back, pain flaring in his ribs. He bit his lip against the pain and drew another arrow, aiming up at the monster. It swayed in place for a moment, black blood dripping from the numerous arrow wounds. Then, with a groan like a falling tree, it tipped over backwards, crashing to the ground. Wild let out a breath, flopping onto his back. His whole body ached from the fall and his arm burned from firing so many arrows in quick succession.

“Cook!”

Wild rolled onto his side, looking up to see Four hurrying toward him, lips and chin coated with blood from his nose. Despite that, the little smith grinned widely as he approached, hand outstretched.

“That was something else!” he said as he helped Wild to his feet, voice sounding congested. “How many arrows was that? Ten? In two seconds?”

Wild half-grinned as he carefully got to his feet, prodding at his chest to make sure nothing was broken. “I guess adrenaline will do that to you.”

Four shook his head, laughing. “No way that was all adrenaline. Thanks for the save.”

“Anytime,” Wild responded. He glanced at Four’s bleeding nose. “Looks like you took quite the hit.”

Four gingerly touched his nose, wincing slightly. “Nothing a fairy can’t fix,” he said. “I don’t suppose you have any?”

Wild shook his head and Four sighed, wiping some of the blood away with his hand. “Well, we should find the others, anyway. Have you seen anyone?”

“No, not since the monsters attacked.”

“Great, neither have I.” Four sighed again, frowning as he tried to clean the blood from his hand. He turned and peered through some trees. “I think the bridge is back that way. Maybe some of us are still there.”

Wild nodded and he and Four set off in the direction Four indicated. They walked for a while, chatting idly as they passed by old trees and ferns that cluttered the forest floor. In the absence of monster noises and sounds of battle, everything seemed still and quiet. It was almost peaceful. Wild slowed, frowning as a strange feeling settled in his gut. Four paused, looking back at him.

“Cook?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

Wild thought for a moment, looking around them. “It’s quiet,” he eventually said.

“Okay?”

“No, it’s just…” Wild pursed his lips, trying to place a finger on the unsettling feeling stirring in his chest. “There should be more sound. Animals, birds, leaves, but it’s…”

“Quiet,” Four finished, seeming to catch onto the strange air.

Leaves crunched.

Wild and Four whipped around, weapons drawn. They moved closer to each other on instinct, glancing into the trees where the sound had come from. Another crunch of leaves, a soft thud of a footstep. Wild narrowed his eyes, trying to make out any movement in the shade of the woods. More footsteps. A figure emerged from the shadows. Wild’s shoulders stiffened, grip tightening on his sword. Then he saw the dark green tunic and the gray fur wrapped around the figure’s shoulders. Wild sighed, letting the tip of his sword drop to the ground.

“It’s just you,” he breathed as Twilight stepped fully into the open. Twilight met his gaze, lips quirking upward. He walked towards them, brushing a stray leaf from his shoulder.

“Do you have a fairy? Our smith is…” Wild trailed off as he glanced at Four. Four stared at Twilight with wide eyes, sword still raised, knuckles white around the hilt.

“What’s wrong?” Wild asked. “It’s… it’s just the rancher.”

Four glanced at Wild out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t… I don’t kn-“

Silver flashed in Wild’s peripheral. He lunged to one side and Four dove to the other as a sword sliced the air between them. Twilight tsked, straightening up and turning to Wild with a cold gaze. Wild stiffened, eyes wide. Twilight lunged for him, sword gripped in both hands. Wild ducked under a swing and jumped back, fumbling to unhook the shield on his back. He barely managed to get the shield out in front of him before Twilight was on him again, attacking with all his might. His sword connected with Wild’s shield with a resounding crack, sending shockwaves through Wild’s arm. He stumbled back, gasping. Twilight gave him no time to recover, thrusting the sword toward Wild’s chest. Wild swung his shield out, parrying Twilight’s strike and throwing the rancher off balance.

“What are you doing?!” Wild cried in the brief moment it took Twilight to recover. Twilight didn’t answer. He planted a foot and darted around Wild, slashing at his side. Wild danced out of the way, the tip of the blade scraping his tunic. A shout from the side distracted Twilight from his next attack. He whipped around just in time to block Four’s strike, their swords crashing into each other. Twilight shoved against Four with his sword, pushing the smaller hero back. Four recovered quickly, staying low as he dodged Twilight’s attacks, searching for an opening. Wild watched in horror as his mentor and friend fought. Twilight spun and Four couldn’t dodge quite fast enough, blade grazing his arm. He clenched his teeth, ducking and diving forward. He swung his blade around, catching Twilight in the leg. Twilight hissed as blood soaked into his trousers, stumbling back. That snapped Wild out of his stupor enough to find his voice.

“W-wait!” he called to Four, running towards the two. “Don’t hurt him! I think he’s corrupted!”

“No, he’s not!” Four yelled, jumping out of the way of a heavy blow. “It’s not him!” He yanked out his boomerang, hurling it at Twilight. Twilight dodged it easily, forcing Four to duck as he swung again. The boomerang returned and clocked him in the back of the head. He stumbled forward with a grunt. Four darted around him, retrieving his boomerang and slicing Twilight at the same time. Twilight twisted his sword over the back of his head, blocking Four’s attack from behind. He spun out of the block, swinging in a vicious arc that Four barely managed to dodge. Four backpedaled so he was beside Wild, breathing hard.

“How do you know he’s not-“

“Look at his blood,” Four interrupted Wild, gesturing with his sword to Twilight’s wounded leg. The fluid soaking into his pant leg was a deep color, almost black. No, Wild realized, eyes widening. It is black.

“Infected?” Wild suggested. “Like the monsters?”

Four didn’t have time to respond as Twilight dashed toward them again. He aimed for Four, bringing his sword down at his head. Four jumped back, returning the attack with one of his own before Twilight forced him away again with another swing. Wild forced himself to shake off his shock, unsheathing his own sword and rushing at Twilight. Should he just hit him with the flat of his blade? Knock him back to his senses? He aimed to do just that, turning the sword in his hand and swinging the flat at Twilight’s head while he was distracted with Four. Then Twilight’s head turned, eyeing Wild over his shoulder. He leaned over, simultaneously dodging Wild’s attack and sending a kick into the champion’s stomach. The kick knocked the air out of Wild’s lungs and he stumbled back, gasping for breath. He heard Four grunt and looked up to see him locking blades with Twilight, the taller hero pressing down on Four with all his strength. Four’s arms shook badly, face scrunched up in effort as his back arched from the force above him. Wild dashed forward, swinging at Twilight’s head again. Twilight saw him coming, shoved Four away and dodged to the side. The tip of Wild’s sword nicked Twilight’s face, slicing into his cheek. Wild gasped, recoiling. He wasn’t trying to hurt him. He hadn’t meant to cut him.

“Champion!” Four shouted, as if sensing Wild’s inner turmoil. “It’s not him! It’s a shadow!”

Wild glanced at him. “W-what?”

“A shadow. A shapeshifter,” Four said quickly. “Looks like him but it’s not. Not even his body. We can hurt it.”

“How do you-“

“You’re just going to have to trust me!”

Twilight paused before them, glancing between them as if contemplating something. Wild studied him, watching as black blood oozed from the cut in his cheek, dripping down the side of his face. He held his sword in both hands, neglecting the shield on his back. Wild had never seen Twilight fight two-handed. Now that he really looked, even the way Twilight stood seemed wrong. He leaned his weight onto one foot, almost casual in his stance. He kept his shoulders rolled back, not hunched in the battle stance Wild was used to.

“Okay,” Wild finally said. “It’s not him.”

It was as if that was some kind of trigger. Twilight laughed, a cold, broken sound with more than one layer in the voice. Blackness crept from the edges of his eyes, blotting out the white and filling around the irises. Then his irises turned from blue to red. He launched forward. Wild had almost no time to react before the shadow was upon them, Wild and Four scrambling to move. Shadow Twilight’s sword whistled through the air, grazing Four’s shoulder and nicking Wild’s collar in the same swing. They both jumped away as the shadow bore down on them with blinding speed. Wild blocked one blow with his sword, Four going in for an attack while Shadow Twilight was occupied. But he swept a leg out, knocking Wild off his feet and freeing his sword to spin around at Four. He forced Four to dodge, the smith unable to get close enough to attack. His sword streaked through the air, meeting Four’s blade and knocking the little hero off balance. Shadow Twilight attacked again, and again, and again, hitting Four’s sword so hard that it caused his arms to buckle.

An arrow buried itself in Shadow Twilight’s shoulder. He grunted, stumbling and throwing a glance behind him at Wild as the champion prepared to fire another arrow. The shadow was forced away from Four who nearly fell to his knees, panting. Wild let loose arrow after arrow and the shadow dodged all of them, moving with impossible speed. Wild growled in frustration as he struggled to land a single hit. He reached back to his quiver for another arrow. His fingers hit empty air. The shadow smirked and darted toward him. Wild backpedaled, quickly swapping his bow for his shield, unable to grab his sword fast enough. He brought up his shield as Shadow Twilight reached him, bracing for the hit. But the shadow rolled to the side. Wild whipped around. He wasn’t fast enough. Pain lit in his back as the blade carved through his flesh, the shadow springing out of the roll and spinning. Wild cried out and stumbled forward, the deep cut burning. The shadow gave him no time to breathe, rushing him and attacking again. Wild held up his shield as Shadow Twilight whipped his sword around. The blade cracked against the shield, splitting it in half. The blow knocked Wild flat on his back, yelping as his wound hit the ground. Shadow Twilight appeared above him, sword raised as Wild scrabbled for his own weapon. At the same time, he heard hurried footsteps as Four sprinted over to them. Shadow Twilight drove his sword through Wild’s shoulder, pinning him to the ground.

Wild’s mind blanked. The shadow moved to yank the sword out but Four got there first. With a cry, the smith attacked, slashing wildly with his sword and forcing Shadow Twilight away from Wild. The shadow dodged everything Four threw at him. Wild turned his head to watch them, feeling strangely disconnected from the situation. His shoulder felt hot, really hot, so much so that it almost felt cold. He watched through a sort of fog as Four struggled to land a single blow on the shadow. He paused for a moment. Wild thought it was to catch his breath but then the smith raised his sword high. There was a flash of light and suddenly there were three additional smiths. They all charged forward, attacking Shadow Twilight from different angles, much more successfully than before. Their swords sliced into the shadow as he was penned in from all sides with nowhere to dodge to. At that point, Wild figured he must be hallucinating. He tried to sit up and that’s when the pain finally registered in his mind. A fire lit in the space between his shoulder and chest where the sword was embedded. Waves of boiling pain burst through his arm and torso. A scream tore itself from his throat, tears springing to his eyes. He raised his free hand to the sword but even just touching it caused the pain to increase tenfold. He barely registered a yell to his right. He rolled his head to the side to see the Four in a purple tunic had stabbed his sword through Shadow Twilight’s chest. The shadow looked down at the sword, swaying in place. He lifted his head and locked eyes with Wild. A grin twisted onto his face.

Then he melted.

His entire body turned black and dissolved into a pool on the ground, dripping off of the purple Four’s sword. The purple Four grimaced, flicking the fluid from his sword and backing away. The black puddle soaked into the ground and disappeared like it was never there in the first place. After a moment, all four smiths raised their swords. There was another flash of light and there stood only one smith again. He turned toward Wild. All the color drained from his face. He sprinted over, falling to his knees beside him. Wild didn’t even realize the sword in him had melted as well until Four pressed his hands against the wound. Lucidity slammed back into Wild as a fresh wave of pain seared through the wound. He yelped, grabbing Four’s wrist and trying to push him away.

“-ry, I’m sorry!” Four was saying, though Wild wasn’t sure why he didn’t hear all of it. Four’s voice was muffled, Wild’s heart thumping uncomfortably in his chest. “I have to stop the bleeding, I’m-“

All at once, Wild felt like he was going to throw up. He groaned, shutting his eyes and pressing his head back against the ground. His torso moved weirdly from side to side and- oh, Four was shaking him, wasn’t he? The smith said something but Wild couldn’t hear past the cotton in his ears. His neck felt wet, tickling as something trailed along his collarbone and pooled in the base of his throat.

“-elp! Capta-“ Wild caught a little bit of Four’s voice. Another pair of hands pressed against his wound and all he could do was whimper at the burning pain. Someone pushed his bangs out of his face. He opened his eyes to see who it was – at least, he thought he did – but the majority of his vision was overtaken by blackness, leaving only a fuzzy pinprick of light in the center. He registered silver and gold gleaming overhead, a shock of blue and green somewhere in his left peripheral. The hand remained resting against his forehead.

“Stay- me, Ch- c’mo-“ A deeper voice reached through the cotton. Wild felt tired and panicky at the same time, heart fluttering as his vision flickered. His head spun, stomach twisting and begging for him to vomit. The darkness grabbed hold and dragged him down.