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bwatchesforeigndramas · 1 year ago

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Your Beyblade Burst Building the Ultimate Spinner

Spinning top battles, where skill, strategy, and sheer power collide, beyblade burst stands as a beloved and enduring phenomenon. For fans of this exhilarating sport, the quest for building the ultimate spinner is nothing short of a thrilling odyssey. It's a journey that transcends age and captivates the imagination of enthusiasts young and old alike. Building the ultimate spinner where we embark on a captivating exploration of the art and science behind crafting the most formidable beyblade burst top. In this comprehensive guide, we'll delve into the intricacies of beyblade customization, unveiling the secrets behind selecting the perfect combination of parts, fine-tuning performance, and developing unparalleled strategies for triumph on the beyblade burst battlefield. Whether you're a seasoned blader seeking to elevate your game to new heights or a novice looking to enter the world of spinning top battles with a competitive edge, this guide is your compass.

The Thrilling World of Beyblade Burst

Beyblade burst toy a high-energy spinning top battle game, has taken the world by storm. Its combination of strategy, skill, and customization options has captivated fans of all ages. Whether you're a seasoned blader or just starting your journey, the world of beyblade Burst offers endless excitement and possibilities. beyblade Burst tournaments are a testament to the game's popularity. Competitors from around the globe gather to pit their customized spinning tops, known as beyblades, against one another. These events are a showcase of talent, creativity, and sportsmanship, attracting players and spectators alike. In this journey to build the ultimate spinner, you'll explore the techniques, strategies, and community that make beyblade Burst a true phenomenon.

Crafting Your Beyblade Arsenal

At the core of beyblade Burst is the art of customization. Players have the freedom to assemble their beyblades from a wide selection of components, each with unique attributes. From the energy layer to the performance tip, every part can be chosen to suit your playing style and strategy. Building the ultimate spinner begins with understanding these components and their interactions. Each piece has its own strengths and weaknesses, and mastering the nuances of beyblade customization is essential for success. Are you looking to create a balanced, defensive, or aggressive beyblade? The choices you make will determine your performance in the arena. In this chapter, we delve deep into the intricacies of beyblade construction, helping you develop the perfect beyblade arsenal.

The Science of Spinning

Spinning is at the heart of beyblade Burst, and understanding the physics behind it is crucial. Spin velocity, angular momentum, and stamina are just some of the scientific principles that come into play during battles. Building the ultimate spinner involves not only assembling the right parts but also mastering the physics of spin. In this section, we explore the science behind beyblade Burst. You'll learn how to optimize your beyblade's spin for maximum endurance and attack power. Through practical tips and insights, you'll gain a deeper appreciation for the role physics plays in the game, giving you an edge in battle.

Strategies for Victory

Winning in beyblade Burst isn't just about having a powerful beyblade; it's also about how you use it. Developing effective strategies is a key part of building the ultimate spinner. Do you rush in for quick attacks, focus on outlasting your opponent, or strike with precision at the right moment? In this chapter, we dissect various battle tactics and provide guidance on when and how to employ them. From launch techniques to reading your opponent's moves, you'll gain valuable insights into the strategic aspects of the game. With the right strategy, even the most formidable opponents can be defeated.

The Beyblade Community

Beyblade Burst isn't just a game; it's a vibrant community of bladers from around the world. Whether you're trading beyblades, sharing tips, or competing in tournaments, the community adds a whole new dimension to the beyblade experience. Building the ultimate spinner means becoming a part of this passionate and welcoming community. In this section, we delve into the global beyblade community, sharing stories of camaraderie, sportsmanship, and shared enthusiasm. You'll discover the friendships and connections that can be forged through beyblade, making your journey all the more rewarding.

From Beginner to Blading Master

No one becomes a beyblade master overnight. It takes dedication, practice, and a willingness to learn from both victories and defeats. As you embark on your journey to build the ultimate spinner, you'll experience growth and improvement, both as a blader and as an individual. In this chapter, we offer guidance on how to progress from a beginner to a seasoned blader. You'll find tips on honing your skills, developing your own unique style, and achieving success in the competitive world of beyblade burst.

Beyond the Beyblade Arena

While battles are the core of beyblade burst, the game offers much more than just competition. From the rich lore of the beyblade universe to the creative pursuits of beyblade artistry, there's a world of exploration beyond the arena. Building the ultimate spinner isn't just about winning battles; it's about immersing yourself in the broader beyblade culture. In this final chapter, we invite you to delve into the various facets of beyblade Burst beyond the battles. You'll discover the stories, fan creations, and cultural impact that make beyblade.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the journey of building the ultimate beyblade burst spinner has been a thrilling and rewarding experience. Throughout this endeavor, we've explored the intricate world of beyblade customization, delving into the realms of performance tips, energy layers, and forge discs. With each choice we made, we honed our spinner's unique strengths and weaknesses, creating a formidable beyblade burst that truly reflects our strategic prowess and personal style.

#Beyblade burst toy

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aslimewithagun · 2 years ago

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This is like that bouncy ball SCP that bounces higher every time it lands on a hard surface. Every time this thing bounces, it only spins faster.

For my male audience

#video #incredible #spin to win #all the angular momentum in the world

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tigersharks-moving · 3 years ago

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the quantum final was finding angular momentum matrices (which i know how & love to do) eli win!!! now i’m done with finals!!!!

#the matrices were so beautiful too #eli.txt

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dustedmagazine · 3 years ago

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Dust, Volume 7, Number 8

Big Thief

Our August collection of short reviews contains more big names than usual with singles from Big Thief and Dry Cleaning, a digital compilation from Thou, live music from Obits and a side project from members of the Bats and the Clean. Never fear, there are obscurities as well, including an improv guitar player even Bill Meyer had hardly heard of, a Norwegian emo artist in love with Texas and a death metal outfit verging into psychedelia. Our writers, this time including Tim Clarke, Bill Meyer, Jennifer Kelly, Ian Mathers, Chris Liberato and Jonathan Shaw, like what they like, big or small, hyped or unknown. We hope you’ll like some of it, too.

Marc Barreca — The Sleeper Awakes (Scissor Tail)

The Sleeper Wakes by Marc Barreca

Odd connections abound here. One might not expect the usually acoustic-oriented Scissor Tail Recordings to make a vinyl reissue of an electronic ambient music cassette from 1986, any more than one would expect its maker to currently earn his crust as a bankruptcy judge. So, let’s just shed those expectations and get to listening. Unlike so many lower profile electronic recordings from the 1980s, which seemed targeted for a space next to the cash register of a new age bookstore, this album offers a profusion of mysteries that compound the closer you listen to them. It’s not at all obvious what sounds Barreca fed into his Akai sampler. Japanese folk music? Church chimes? A log drum jam? Tugboat engines? One hears hints of such sounds, but they’ve been warped and dredged in a thin coat of murk, so that the predominant experience is one of feeling like you’re dreaming, even if your eyes are wide open.

Bill Meyer

Big Thief — “Little Things” / “Sparrow” (4AD)

Little Things/Sparrow by Big Thief

Who knows how much more music Big Thief might have released in the last 18 months if the pandemic hadn’t tripped them up? Given the creative momentum generated by 2019’s UFOF and Two Hands, it’s fair to assume the band have plenty of music waiting in the wings. “Little Things” and “Sparrow” arrive with no sign of a new album on the horizon, so are probably being released to promote Big Thief’s upcoming US and European tour. Both songs clock in at around five minutes and handle musical repetition in different satisfying ways. Reminiscent of Fleetwood Mac’s “Everything,” but hyped up on caffeine, “Little Things” feels like an exciting new direction for the band. It cycles through its whirlpooling, modulated acoustic guitar over and over, the frantic little sequence of chords never changing; the interest comes from the ways in which the rest of the instruments bob and weave in the ever-shifting, psychedelic mix. “Sparrow” is a more traditional Big Thief song, sparse and sad. Its melancholic sway is enlivened by some beautiful wavering vocal harmonies as Adrianne Lenker paints a picture of a Garden of Eden populated by sparrows, owls and eagles, culminating in Adam blaming Eve for humankind’s fall from grace.

Tim Clarke

Simão Costa — Beat Without Byte: (Un)Learning Machine (Cipsela)

Beat With Out Byte by Simão Costa

Piano preparation often makes use of modest resources — bolts and combs, strings or maybe just a raincoat tossed into the instrument’s innards. By contrast, Simão Costa’s set-up looks like took all of the entries in a robotics assembly competition and set them to work agitating a snarl of cables that met the pirated telecommunication requirements for an especially crowded favela. But whether it’s twitching motors or Costa’s own hands doing the work, the sounds that come out of his sound remarkably rich and cohesive. He stirs drifting hums, metallic sonorities, and stomping rhythms into a bracingly immediate sonic onslaught.

Bill Meyer

Cots — Disturbing Body (Boiled)

Disturbing Body by Cots

Disturbing Body is the low-key debut album by Montreal-based musician Steph Yates, who enlisted Sandro Perri to produce. Where the songs are pared back to mostly just vocals and peppy major-seventh chords on nylon-string guitar — such as “Bitter Part of the Fruit” and “Midnight at the Station” — comparisons with bossa-nova classics such as “The Girl From Ipanema” inevitably arise. Where the tempo is slower, the chord voicings are less sun-dappled, and Perri’s arrangements call upon a wider palette of instrumental colors, the songs venture into more interesting terrain, calling to mind a less haunted Broadcast. There’s an eerie sway to the opening title track, backed by rich piano chords and clattering cymbal textures. Fender Rhodes and the light clack of a rhythm track give “Inertia of a Dream” an uneasy momentum. And forlorn trumpet, percussion and piano situate “Last Sip” at closing time in a forgotten jazz club. There’s something evasive yet subtly intoxicating at work here, the album’s ten songs breezing past in half an hour, leaving plenty of unanswered questions in their wake.

Tim Clarke

Dry Cleaning — “Bug Eggs” / “Tony Speaks!” (4AD)

Bug Eggs/Tony Speaks! by Dry Cleaning

A few months on from the release of their excellent debut album, New Long Leg, Dry Cleaning have put out two more songs from the same sessions, which are featured as bonus tracks on the Japanese edition. For a band whose unique appeal is mostly attributed to Florence Shaw’s surreal lyrics and deadpan delivery, it’s heartening to hear further evidence that it’s the complete cocktail of musical ingredients — Shaw plus Tom Dowse’s inventive guitar, Lewis Maynard’s satisfyingly thick bass, and Nick Buxton’s driving drums — that alchemizes into their winning sound. The verse guitar chords of “Bug Eggs” are naggingly similar to New Long Leg’s “More Big Birds,” while the instrumental chorus has a yearning feel akin to album highlight “Her Hippo.” Maynard’s bass tone on “Tony Speaks!” is absolutely filthy, swallowing up most of the mix until Dowse’s guitar bares its teeth in a swarm of squalling wah-wah, while Shaw’s lyrics muse upon the decline of heavy industry, the environment, and crisps.

Tim Clarke

Flight Mode — TX, ’98 (Sound As Language)

TX, '98 by Flight Mode

In 1998, well before he started Little Hands of Asphalt, Sjur Lyseid spent a year in Texas at the height of the emo wave, skateboarding and going to house shows and listening to the Get Up Kids. TX, ’98 is the Norwegian’s tribute to that coming of age experience, the giddy euphorias of mid-teenage freedom filtered through bittersweet subsequent experience. “Sixteen” is the banger, all crunchy, twitchy exhilarating guitars and vulnerable pop tunefulness, its clangor breaking for wistful reminiscence, but “Fossil Fuel” waxes lyrical, its guitar riffs splintering into radiant shards, its lyrics capturing those youthful years when anything seems possible and also, somehow, the later recognition that perhaps it isn’t. It’s an interesting tension between the now-is-everything hedonism of adolescence and the rueful remembering of adulthood, encapsulate in a chorus that goes, “Well wait and see if there’s no more history/and just defend the present tense.”

Jennifer Kelly

Drew Gardner— S-T (Eiderdown Records)

S/T by Drew Gardner

Drew Gardner has been popping up all over lately, on Elkhorn’s snowed in acoustic jam Storm Sessions and the electrified follow-up Sun Cycle and as one of Jeffrey Alexander’s Heavy Lidders. Here, it’s just him and his guitar plus a like-minded rhythm section (that’s Ryan Jewell on drums and Garcia Peoples’ Andy Cush on bass), spinning off dreamy, folk-into-interstellar-journeys like “Calyx” and “Kelp Highway.” Gardner puts some muscle into some of his grooves, running close to Chris Forsyth’s wide-angle electric boogie in “Bird Food.” “The Road to Eastern Garden,” though, is pure limpid transcendence, Buddhist monastery bells jangling as Gardner’s warm, inquiring melodic line intersects with rubbery bends on bass. Give this one a little time to sit, but don’t miss it.

Jennifer Kelly

Hearth — Melt (Clean Feed)

Melt by Hearth

This pan-European quartet’s name suggests domesticity, but the fact that none of its members lives in the country of their birth probably says more about the breadth of their music. The closest geographic point of reference for the sounds that pianist Kaja Draksler, trumpeter Susana Santos Silva, and saxophonists Ada Rave and Mette Rasmussen’s make together would be Chicago’s south side. Their dynamic blend of angular structures, extended instrumental techniques, and obscurely theatrical enactments brings to mind the Art Ensemble of Chicago, even though the sounds on this concert-length recording rarely echo the AEC’s. But it is similarly charged with mystery and collective identity.

Bill Meyer

Klaus Lang / Konus Quartett — Drei Allmenden (Cubus)

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Drei Allmenden (translation: Three Commons) treats the act of commission as an opportunity to create common cause. For composer and keyboardist Klaus Lang, this is a chance to push back against a long trend of separation and stratification, with musicians bound to realize the composer’s whim, no matter the cost. Invoking works from the 16th century, he penned something simple, flexible and open to embellishment. Then he pitched in with Konus Quartett, a Swiss saxophone ensemble, to get the job done. The three-part piece, which lasts 43 sublime minutes, amply rewards the submersion of ego. Lang’s slowly morphing harmonium drones and Konus’ long reed tones sound like one instrument, enriched by tendrils of sound that rise up and then sink back into the music’s body.

Bill Meyer

Lynch, Moore, Riley — Secant / Tangent (dx/dy)

Secant | Tangent by Sue Lynch, N.O. Moore, Crystabel Riley

Electric guitarist N.O. Moore is barely known in these parts. I’ve only heard him on one album with Eddie Prévost a couple years back, and the other two musicians, not at all. But on the strength of this robust performance, which was recorded at London’s Icklectick venue, it would be a loss to keep it that way. They combine acoustic sounds with electronics, courtesy of guitar effects and amplification, in an exceedingly natural fashion. Each musician also gets into the other’s business in ways that correspond to the one spicy suggestion made by one cook that elevates another’s dish to the next level. Susan Lynch’s clarinet and flute compliment Moore’s radiophonic/feedback sounds like two flashes of lightning illuminating the same dark cloud, and her vigorously pecking saxophone attack mixes with Crystabel’s cascading beats like idiosyncratically tuned drums. This is one of the first albums to be released on Moore’s dx/dy label; keep your eye out for more.

Bill Meyer

Maco Sica / Hamid Drake Tatsu Aoki & Thymme Jones—Ourania (Feeding Tube)

OURANIA by Mako Sica / Hamid Drake featuring Tatsu Aoki & Thymme Jones

Ourania is named for the muse associated with astronomy in Greek mythology, and the album has an aim for the stars quality. In 2020, Chicago’s Mako Sica lost not only the chance to play concerts, but one third of its number. Core members Brent Fuscaldo (electric bass, voice, harmonica, percussion) and Przemyslaw Krys Drazek (electric trumpet, electric guitar, mandolin) could have just hunkered down with their respective TV sets. Instead, they booked themselves three other musicians who make rising above circumstances a core practice. The duo convened at Electrical Audio with Hamid Drake (drums, percussion, Tatsu Aoki (upright bass, shamisen), and Thymme Jones (piano, organ, balloon, trumpet, voice, recorder, percussion), rolled tape for a couple hours, and walked out with this album. The 85 minute-long recording (edited to about half that length on vinyl, but the LP comes with a download card) exudes a vibe of calm, even beatitude, with twin trumpets and Fuscaldo’s echo-laden, nearly word-free vocals weaving though a sequence of patient grooves like migrational birds on the glide.

Bill Meyer

Mar Caribe — Hymn of the Mar Caribe (Mar Caribe)

Hymn of the Mar Caribe b/w Rondo for Unemployment by mar caribe

Some musicians burn to make something new; others generate attention-getting sounds designed to maximize the potential of their other earning activities; and others, well, they just want you to sway along with their version of the good sounds. Mar Caribe falls into that last category. This Chicago-based instrumental ensemble has spent most of the last decade maintaining a robust performance schedule, and it would seem that recording is pretty much an afterthought; a photo of the test pressing for this 7” was posted in May 2019, but the release show didn’t happen until August 2021. Sure, COVID can be blamed for part of the delay, but one suspects that mostly, these guys just want to play, and they didn’t bother to stuff the singles in the sleeves until they knew when they’d next be leaning over a merch table. The titular suspends anthemic brass and pedal steel over a swinging double bass cadence, and if there was a moment during the night when the band invited the audience to pledge allegiance to their favorite drink, this is what they’d be playing while they asked. Guitars lead on the flip side, whose busy twists and turns belie the implied laziness of the title, “Rondo For Unemployment.”

Bill Meyer

Mint Julep — In a Deep and Dreamless Sleep (Western Vinyl)

In A Deep And Dreamless Sleep by Mint Julep

These songs traverse a hazy, dreamlike space, diffusing dance beats, dream-y vocals and synth pulses into inchoate sensation that nonetheless retains enough rhythmic propulsion to keep your heart rate up. “A Rising Sun” filters jangly guitar and bass through a sizzle of static, letting tambourine thump gently somewhere off camera, as voices soothe and reassure. “Mirage” pounds a four-on-the-floor, but quietly, angelically, like a disco visited through astral projection or maybe a really rave-y iteration of heaven. There’s an ominous undercurrent to “Longshore Drift,” in its growly, sub-bass-y hum, but glittering bits of synth sprinkle over like fairy dust. This is indefinitely gorgeous stuff, ethereal but surprisingly energizing. Dance or drift, take your pick.

Jennifer Kelly

Monocot — Directions We Know (Feeding Tube)

Direction We Know by Monocot

Directions We Know is an LP of free-form freak-outs generated by an instrumental duo that includes one musician who you might expect to perpetuate such a ruckus, and one that you might not. The more likely character is drummer Jayson Gerycz, who may be known for keeping time with the Cloud Nothings, but has shown a willingness to wax colorizing in the company of Anthony Pasquarosa, Jen Powers and Matthew Rolin. The happy surprise is Rosali Middleman, whose singer-songwriter efforts have kept her guitar playing firmly in service of her songs. She doesn’t exactly abandon lyricism in Monocot, but the tunes serve as launching ramps for exuberant lunges into the realm of voltage-saturated sound. On “Ruby Throated,” the first of the record’s four extended jams, Middleman lofts rippling peals over a near-boil of drums and churning loops. By the time you get to “Multidimensional Solutions,” the last and longest track, her wah-wah-dipped streams of sound have taken on a blackened quality, as though her overheating tubes have burned every note.

Bill Meyer

Obits — Die at the Zoo (Outer Battery)

Die At The Zoo by Obits

Few aughts rock bands held more promise than Obits. The four-piece headed by Hot Snakes’ Rick Froberg and Edsel’s Sohrab Habibion emerged in 2005 with a stinging, stripped-back, blues-touched sound. Froberg’s feral snarl rode a surfy, twitchy amplified onslaught, that was, by 2012 a finely tuned machine. I caught one of the live shows following Moody, Standard and Poor at small club in Northampton the same year this was recorded (so small that I was sitting on a couch next to Froberg, oblivious, for 20 minutes before the show), and what struck me was how well the band played together. The records sound chaotic, and that was certainly there in performance, but the cuts and stops were perfect, the surfy instrumental breaks (��New August”) absolutely in tune. At the time this set was recorded in the Brisbane punk landmark known as the Zoo, the band was near the peak of its considerable powers—and regrettably near the end of its run. Die at the Zoo is reasonably well recorded, rough enough to capture the band’s raucous energy, skilled enough so you can understand the words and hear all the parts. It hits all the highlights, blistering early cuts like “Widow of My Dreams,” and “Pine On,” the blues cover “Milk Cow Blues,” and later, slightly more melodic ragers like “Everything Looks Better in the Morning” and “You Gotta Lose.” The guitar work is particularly sharp throughout, its straight-on chug breaking into fiery blues licks and surfy whammy explosions. It’s a poignant reminder of a time when American rock bands played ferocious shows halfway across the world (or anywhere) as a matter of course and a fitting eulogy for Obits.

Jennifer Kelly

A Place To Bury Strangers — Hologram (Dedstrange)

Hologram EP by A Place To Bury Strangers

A Place To Bury Strangers returns with a new rhythm section and renewed focus on the elements that made its version of revivalism the loudest if not brashest of the New York aughties. Sarah and John Fedowitz on drums and bass join Oliver Ackerman on the five track EP Hologram which is the most concise and vital APTBS release for a while. For all the criticism of copyism thrown at the band since their early days, APTBS has always been as much about Ackerman’s production skills and feel for texture as musical originality and the songs on Hologram sound fantastic at volume. Beneath the sonic onslaught of fuzz and reverb, not a brick is misplaced in this intricately constructed sonic wall. True “I Might Have” is pure Jesus & Mary Chain and “In My Hive” a Wax Trax take on Spector but Hologram is an endorphin rush of guitar driven noise bound to make one forget the world, if only for a while.

Andrew Forell

Praises — EP4 (Hand Drawn Dracula)

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Jesse Crowe’s work as Praises has been ongoing since 2014, but has shifted in tone, instrumentation and emphasis since then. While the first two EPs have more of a full, rock band feel, the third one and 2018’s full-length In This Year: Ten of Swords took things in a more electronic, sometimes industrial direction. It was an even better fit for the rest, probing creativity evident in Praises’ work, and 3/4s of the new EP4 are in a pleasingly similar vein. The echoing, ringing denunciations of “We Let Go” and “A World on Fire” are fine examples of Praises’ existing strengths, but the opening “Apples for My Love” is immediately captivating in a very different way. Gauzy and rapturous, it’s a reverie that keeps the satisfying textural detail of the other songs but turns them to different ends. It’s not something that was missing from Crowe’s work before — again, the other tracks here are also very good — but a reminder that what Praises has shown before is not the extent of what they can do.

Ian Mathers

The Sundae Painters — The First SP Single (Leather Jacket)

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“This is a supergroup, is it not?” someone asked the Sundae Painters bassist Paul Kean on social media last year, to which he responded, “Some may choose that title. We prefer superglue.” Kaye Woodward, his wife and longtime bandmate in both The Bats and Minisnap, takes the lead vocal on “Thin Air,” one of the pair of A-sides found on their new band’s debut seven-inch. From the outset, Kean’s unmistakable bass playing and Hamish Kilgour’s (The Clean/Mad Scene) drumming lock into a psychedelic march, with the other instruments weaving like kites above, vying for position on the same breeze. “You fight your way down/You fight your way up/You wait for the dust to settle,” Woodward sings. A few gentle strums cut their way through the parade, and a guitar calls out gull-like from above, before everything trails off as if something potent has just kicked in. On the flip side, “Aversion” has an old friend-like familiarity to it, soundwise (if not lengthwise) sitting somewhere between VU’s “The Gift” and “Sister Ray.” Things begin a little stand-offish, though, like you’ve interrupted a guitar pontificating to a rapt audience — it turns its head to look you over, falling momentarily silent, before picking right back up where it left off. Kilgour’s spoken vocals join the conversation, as the song builds towards a groovy kind of fever pitch. “You look a little stoned,” he says, before responding to his own observation. “Well me I’m a little bit groggy/But it ain’t too foggy/I can see some way of getting out of here.” By this point, both guitars (played by Woodward and Tall Dwarfs’ Alec Bathgate) are full-on screeching and howling, and as the song sputters to a sudden finish, our man’s left waiting for someone to buy him “a ride out the gate.”

Chris Liberato

Thou — Hightower (Self-released)

Hightower by Thou

Hightower is the latest in a string of digital compilations from Thou, most of which collect songs that have been previously released on small-batch splits, 7” records and other hyper-obscure media that briefly circulated through the metal underground. You might be tempted to pronounce that a cynical cash-grab, but Thou has posted Hightower (along with previous compilations, like Algiers, Oakland and Blessings of the Highest Order, a killer collection of Nirvana covers) on their official Bandcamp page as a name-yo’-price download. Thanks, band. Beyond convenience, Hightower has an additional, if a sort of inside-baseball, attraction. The band has re-recorded a few of its older songs with its latest, three-guitar line-up. Longtime listeners will recognize “Smoke Pigs” and “Fucking Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean,” which already sounded terrifyingly massive back in 2008 and 2007, respectively. The expanded instrumentation, new arrangements and better production give the songs even more power and depth, all the way down to the bottom of the effing ocean. Yikes. And there are a few additional touches, like K.C. Stafford’s clean vocals on “Fucking Chained…,” which provide an effective complement to Bryan Funck’s inimitably scabrous howl. Rarely has being pummeled and feeling bummed out been so vivifying.

Jonathan Shaw

Tropical Fuck Storm — Deep States (Joyful Noise)

Deep States by Tropical Fuck Storm

Fueled by exasperation as much as anger, the new album by Melbourne’s Tropical Fuck Storm rounds on the myriad ways in which the world has become a “Bumma Sanger” as leader Gareth Liddiard puts it on the eponymous song about COVID lockdown. A roiling meld of psychedelic garage garnished with elements of hip hop and electronic noise it’s close in method and mood if not sound to another Australian provocateur JG Thirwell whose Foetus project girded maximalist surfaces with rigid discipline. If the Tropical Fuck Storm sought to mirror current conditions, they succeed but lack of clarity in both production and intent makes Deep States a frustrating experience. Backing vocals from Fiona Kitschin (bass), Erica Dunn (keys and guitar) and Lauren Hammel (drums) leaven Liddiard’s blokey pronouncements and there are some good sounds and biting words but the band’s determination to overelaborate and underdevelop musical ideas makes this album seem like a lost opportunity.

Andrew Forell

Marta Warelis / Carlos “Zingaro” / Helena Espvall /Marcelo dos Reis — Turquoise Dream (JACC)

Turquoise Dream by Marta Warelis, Carlos "Zíngaro", Helena Espvall, Marcelo dos Reis

Turquoise Dream documents an example of an encounter that is a mainstay of avant-garde jazz festivals, in which out of towners mix it up locals that they may or may not know. This particular concert, which took place at the Jazz ao Centro Festival in 2019, is one such encounter that deserves to live past the night when it transpired. It featured three stringed instrument players who live in Portugal and a Polish pianist who is based in Holland. But they don’t sound like strangers at all. Violinist Zingaro, cellist Espvall, and guitarist dos Reis blend like flashes of sunlight reflecting off of waves, adding up to a sound that is bright and ever-changing. Warelis, who is equally resourceful with her head under the lid of her piano as she is at the keyboard, adding fleet but substantial responses to her hosts’ quicksilver interactions. The result is music that is resolutely abstract but closely engaged.

Bill Meyer

Wharflurch — Psychedelic Realms ov Hell (Gurgling Gore)

PSYCHEDELIC REALMS OV HELL by Wharflurch

Wharflurch is just plain fun to say — but there are at least two ways in which the name also makes sense for the band that has chosen it: it has a bilious, nauseous quality that matches the vibe of the pustulent death metal you’ll hear on Psychedelic Realms ov Hell; and if you separate the words, you can conjure a sodden, rotten wooden structure, swaying vertiginously over a marshy expanse of water, which is filled with alligators and decaying organic material. Imagine that sway, and that stink, and then imagine yourself collapsing into the viscous fluid, soon to be gator chow. Sounds like Florida, and that’s exactly from whence Wharflurch has emerged. Which also makes sense. Is Wharflurch’s music “psychedelic”? Depends on what you hear in that word. If you want to see hippies dancing ecstatically on a verdant, sun-drenched stretch of Golden Gate Park, then no. But if you have spent any time in the warped, dementedly distorted spaces that psychedelics can open (less happily perhaps, but very powerfully), then yes. Wharflurch likes to accent its meaty riffs and muscular thumps with weird flutters and electronic effects that frequently have a gastric, flatulent quality to them. The saturated and sickly pinks and greens on the album art do a pretty good job of capturing the music’s tones. So do the song titles: “Stoned Ape Apocalypse,” “Bog Body Boletus,” “Phantasmagorical Fumes.” Still game? I’m sorry. But I’ll also be standing right there next to you, on that wobbly, lurching wharf, watching the gators swim near.

Jonathan Shaw

Whisper Room — Lunokhod (Midira Records)

Lunokhod by Whisper Room

That the title of Whisper Room’s fifth album is taken from Soviet lunar rovers makes a certain sense, given how potentially frustrating it might have been for the trio to be working at such a distance. Generally their other records are recorded live, in one room, seeing Aidan Baker (guitar), Jakob Thiesen (drums) and Neil Wiernik (bass) exploring simultaneously, hitting whatever junctions of psychedelic/shoegazing/motorik sound come to them. With Baker in Berlin and travel understandably limiited, this time they recorded their parts separately, layering them together (and bringing in sound designer Scott Deathe to add the kind of pedal processing their sound engineer normally does live). The result certainly sounds as collaborative as ever, seven seamless tracks making up nearly an hour that makes the journey from the friendly, clattering percussion of “Lunokhod01” to the centrifugal ambience of “Lunokhod07” feel perfectly natural. Even though it explores just as much inner and outer space as Whisper Room ever have, there’s something very approachable about Lunokhod that makes it one of their best.

Ian Mathers

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uniarycode · 4 years ago

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Digimon Adventure Reboot, Episode 45

thoughts, comments, super-not-obvious-at-all-spoilers beneath the cut.

- People talk about Japan having a different culture around spoilers than us, but man, you could not miss this one if you tried.

- Gabumon doesn’t have time for the plot, he just wants to run. (to be fair it seems the plot doesn’t have time for the plot either)

- Moterbike Vs Dog. A tale as old as time.

- Uh, do those angular momentum banked turns work when you leap to run? Honest physics question

- We determine who is the fastest by killing each other on the course…So it has nothing to do with speed?

- Purple

- Uhh, Garurumon, putting yourself between rocketing Machmon and the rock wall may not help.

- Cathug

- Taichi and agumon bond with Ogremon by fighting him, GAnumon and Yamato bond with Machmon by racing him.

- “fair race”

- Jou parodying the announcer is nice.

- And…reluctant cheerleader Takeru.

- Yes, yes, we all knew it was parismon since they showed the leg. You people didn’t really think Metalgarurumon would debut against an Adult, did you?

- So when Weregarumon attacks a Motorbike in a fair race he’s the good guy, but back in frontier when Blackweregarurmon attacked a Train in a race he was the bad guy. I see you Digimon, you aren’t being subtle.

- So Machmon knew what would happen if he let Parasimon in, but did it anyway to win….K

- I don’t know how this sis supposed to work, but Garurmon shrugging off countless leg attacks from Parasimon, makes this feel like not a threat.

- Yeah Yamato, lets kick the Ultimate Level Digimon, who do you think you are, Masaru?

- Yamato really reaching back into his friendless wonder roots. “we raced together once, that makes us friends.”

- People will greatly contrast this with the original serious but one of the interviews the director said the Colon in the title represented equality, that both the human and the Digimon were equal in the partnership. Wargreymon came about when Taichi and Agumon were united in their suicide attempt to buy time, Metalgarurumon formed when both Yamato and Gabumon were unified in wanting to help their friend. I’d be interested to see if this pattern continues.

- MetalGarurmon looks like a toy in some of these shots

- Ok, yeah, feeling like an animation cut at the end here.

- I’m going to stop my friend from committing suicide by shooting a tomahawk missile at him is….technically correct.

- And it still hits harder than Wargreymon’s debut, with probably half the budget.

- Next time: will Takeru be able to save Angemon from the darkness, hmm I wonder? Certainly nothing spoiling the end of that

#digimon #Digimon adventure 2020 #Digimon adventure reboot #digi spoilers #psi spoilers #Digimon adventure psi

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alternatefandom · 4 years ago

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Hakugei, A Physics Meta, or: the physics of backspin on tennis balls

Back in the day when I read Tenipuri for the very first time, I possessed a combination of three unfortunate traits: 1. I was a high school student, 2. I was a physics nerd, and 3. I played tennis. All this means I ended up loving Fuji Shuusuke far more than I should, because his counters are a thing of beauty and look like something that could just pop up in my physics exam. I may or may not have spent weeks playing with ball spins and getting yelled at by my tennis coach trying to figure out Fuji's counters. I admit to nothing.

So now I will hold a little physics class on one of my favorite tenipuri shots. Several disclaimers before we start:

Bear in mind that I am in no way an expert in physics or tennis; do not read this meta for anything other than your own amusement, or the Gods of Tennis, Academia, and References will judge you.

While I will be talking about how certain tenipuri shots are physically possible, I will not be talking about whether or not a human being can hit these shots with a racket. That would require calculating force and rotation speed, and I’m not doing that because I hate math.

For ease of understanding, I will be oversimplifying certain things. That said, if you spot a mistake, please tell me so we can discuss how to fix it.

Considering the age of this fandom, I’m assuming most of you have learned about force and momentum in high school. If you haven’t, however, here is a short crash course:

Force is something that causes an object to move faster or slower in a certain direction. For example, when you hit a still tennis ball with a racket, your racket is applying force to the tennis ball. Force is defined as Mass x Acceleration.

Momentum is what an object has when it’s moving. For example, when your tennis ball is flying over the net, your tennis ball has a forwards momentum. Momentum is defined as Mass x Velocity

Applying force to an object causes its momentum to change. The longer force is applied, the more its momentum changes. For example, the longer you spend pushing a shopping cart, the faster it will roll after you let go of it. Momentum is defined as Force x length of Time force is applied

Okay! Now we can start with the meta. The first shot I will be talking about is my favorite Fuji counter, Hakugei. @sandreeen, this meta is dedicated for you.

Amongst all of Fuji's counters, I think Hakugei is actually the simplest, and easiest to replicate by hand. Below is an illustration of Hakugei, plus the explanation we got when Fuji used it against Akugatawa Jirou for the first time.

From this illustration we can summarize the movements of the ball as follows:

1. The ball was hit with a slice, resulting in a backspin.

2. The ball then flies in an upwards curve.

3. The ball falls back down.

4. The ball bounces back towards Fuji.

5. The ball is caught by Fuji.

Now let's analyze these movements one by one.

1. The ball was hit with a slice, resulting in a backspin.

A backspin is simply a ball that rotates backwards towards the player. Fuji slices the bottom of the ball to create this spin. It could be illustrated as follows.

For the rest of the meta, all illustrations will be drawn with the assumption that Fuji is standing to your left, hitting the ball towards your right.

2. The ball flies in an upwards curve

Have you ever seen a fast-moving train pass by a pile of leaves? If you have, you may see the leaves get sucked into the path of the train. This is a demonstration of the Bernoulli Principle. The fast-moving train drags the air around it along, causing the air to move very fast. As a result, the air pressure near the train drops. A bit farther away, though, the air is still, meaning the air pressure there is higher. The pressure difference causes air from farther away to rush near the train, taking the leaves along.

This is basically what happens to Fuji’s Hakugei. As the tennis ball moves rightwards with a momentum of p, the air around it moves leftwards (A). Above the ball, the ball’s backspin (LA) drags the air to the left, moving it faster (A + LA). However, below the ball, the air was dragged to the right (LB), so it moves slower (A - LB). As the air above the ball is moving faster (A +LA) than the air below the ball (A - LB), the air pressure above the ball is lower than beneath the ball. Thus, the ball is rushed upwards (FM). This is called the Magnus Effect.

3. The ball falls down.

Not much to say here. Because of air resistance and drag and all those pesky forces that we generally ignore in high school physics, the ball will eventually slow down, meaning the effect of the ball’s spin on air speed will fade. Therefore, the Magnus effect will grow weaker. Gravity will eventually prevail, and the ball will come crashing back to the ground.

4. The ball bounces back towards Fuji

Now this is the interesting part--how the ball bounces back. Note that for this part, we will assume that the effects of air resistance and drag is negligible, and thus can be wholly ignored. Now, let’s first examine the most important forces acting on the ball in the instant before it hits the ground.

On the vertical axis, the ball is accelerating down, thanks to the force of gravity. This force is represented by Fg.

On the horizontal axis, the ball is moving to the right. The ball is not being affected horizontally by any kind of outside force, therefore, it moves at a constant speed. We can say that the ball is moving rightwards with a momentum of p.

The combination of Fg and p causes the ball to move in the direction of A.

Speaking of movement, other than vertical and horizontal movements, the ball is also spinning. Again, the ball’s spin is not being affected by any outside force. We can say that the ball is spinning constantly with an angular momentum of L.

And then the ball hits the ground.

Newton’s third law states that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. On the vertical axis, we have Fg, which applies a downwards force upon the court. The court gives an equal and opposite reaction in Fn, which applies an upwards force upon the ball. This explains why the ball bounces upwards [1].

Meanwhile, in the horizontal axis, things get a little more complicated. We have the ball’s backwards spin interacting with the ground here. The ball’s spin produces an angular momentum of L, which gives a rightwards linear momentum of ps for the court.

Since the court is a stationary object and (hopefully) cannot move, the court’s momentum itself should stay at zero. We can now forget about the court. Any change of momentum will happen to the tennis ball, so let’s get back to that green fuzzy thing.

Newton’s third law states that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The Momentum Conservation Principle, which is derived from this law, states that in a collision, the change in the colliding objects’ momentum are also equal in magnitude, but opposite in directions.

According to the Momentum Conservation Principle, because its initial momentum (ps) is directed rightwards, after the collision, the ball’s momentum should change leftwards in the opposite direction. This change in momentum is represented by pr.

So when the ball hits the ground, horizontally, there are two different momentums fighting for dominance--pr and p [2]. To ensure the ball bounces to the left as Hakugei would, pr has to win this battle. Since pr is derived from ps, which in turn is derived from the ball’s angular momentum (L), the key to making Hakugei bounce back is to ensure that the ball’s angular momentum (L) is great enough to overpower its linear momentum (p). In other words, the ball has to spin quickly enough to overpower its own linear momentum (p).

Should pr be able to overpower p, the next direction of the tennis ball can be summed up by the following:

As you see, the ball will bounce back in the direction of B. No physics-defying magic necessary.

And now, let’s ask the real question: how great is the spin you need for the ball to bounce back? Well, not so great that you can’t achieve it by hand [3]. In fact, this was my favorite trick to do while running laps; the ball bounces back to me, so it’s easier to control, and I can maintain a slower pace without having to chase after recalcitrant balls. Of course, this only works on even grounds that can provide enough friction for the ball, such as tennis courts (if you’re using tennis balls) or basketball courts (if you’re using basketballs). On uneven grounds, the bounce is much less predictable, so beware where you try this trick!

5. The ball is caught by Fuji

To complete Hakugei, the ball must bounce back to the opposite side of the court and is caught by Fuji. Now considering that the ball has lost a lot of horizontal momentum when it hit the ground (in the battle between pr and p), it’s hard to believe that Hakugei could have enough force to return to Fuji all by itself. Therefore, Fuji cannot rely on the tennis ball itself to come back to him. Instead, he has to rely on another force: the wind.

How strong does the wind need to be to carry Hakugei all the way back to Fuji? Well, I honestly have no idea. Tennis balls are unexpectedly heavy, so I think it must be pretty strong, but I can’t say if it could reliably happen in your average tennis match. So, even though Hakugei should be physically possible, the wind factor makes it hard to use in an actual match.

In conclusion, ladies and gentlemen, this is why Hakugei is not only totally badass but also obeys the law of physics. If you read all the way here, thank you; you’re brilliant, and I hope my explanations didn’t give you too much trouble. I have no idea why I was insane enough to write this. However, I hope now you appreciate Fuji’s Hakugei as much as I do. After all, it takes a certain kind of person to be a Badass Normal in a world of Ten’imuhou no Kiwamis, Devil Modes, and Pirates of the World--and Fuji Shuusuke may just be the right genius to pull it off.

————————

[1] The reality is more complex than that, of course, involving air pressure inside the ball and such, but it’s not quite necessary to discuss that to understand Hakugei.

[2] There are a lot of other things going on here, especially with friction, which helps turns the ball’s point of contact with the court into a ‘pivot’ for pr’s momentum. There are also things going on with the air pressure inside the ball, which affects the length of time the ball stays in contact with the court and may further help pr overpower p.

[3] Theoretically, hitting a Hakugei with a racket should require a greater spin than throwing a backspin ball by hand. This is because the ball needs to travel further from the racket, against a strong headwind, not to mention other things that will reduce its spin such as air resistance.

[4] Hakuryuu probably works with similar principles, but with an angled backspin/topspin, depending on the situation. If I had to guess, I’d say Twist Serve works the same way, too. However, I still reserve judgement on whether Hakuryuu is physically possible.

[5] Tennis ball image by freepik.

#fuji shuusuke #fuji syusuke #tenipuri #tenipuri meta #triple counters #meta #hope this isn't too heavy #mine

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renaerys · 4 years ago

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All right Anon. Since my blog was hacked and I had to delete and remake it, I know I lost some Tumblr-exclusive posts from back in ye olde Naruto heydays. Here’s a TobiIzu prompt I did for my friend Nicole called “Eclipse” that I managed to dig up in my Google Drive. It is 2013 quality (i.e., without the benefit of 7 years’ additional experience, so I’m sorry about that), but this is how it appeared as originally posted. Hopefully this is what you were looking for! :)

Eclipse (TobiIzu)

Generations later they would talk about Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara, the eternal rivals and fiercest of friends who created a kingdom and nearly destroyed it with their own hands. They would talk about Uzumaki Mito and how she saved them from themselves for as long as a person can be saved, going so far as to seal Hashirama’s love and Madara’s hatred within herself. But the sun and the moon have shadows even if no one can see them beyond the blinding light.

Senju Tobirama did not always hate the Uchiha. Some he even grew to depend upon. Every yin needs a yang.

“Suiton: Suishouha!”

At seven years old, Tobirama was well on his way to achieving notoriety as an heir to the illustrious Senju clan. His prowess with water techniques was unheard of at his age, and his father was more than happy to reap that advantage in any way possible. In a world where a mother’s protests fall upon deaf ears, Tobirama became more comfortable with the wails of his dying enemies than the sweet songs his mother used to sing at night as he fell asleep.

“Hhhnnngg!”

Strangled cries of those unlucky enough to be swept away with the deluge gurgled, unintelligible, as water filled lungs and doused fires. Tobirama drew his short sword and followed the path of his technique, searching for any Uchiha that had survived the flood. What he did not expect to find was one unharmed and charging straight for him.

“Damn you!”

The clang of steel made his ears ring as a young Uchiha soldier slammed into him with all the might in his small body. Twin daggers sparked against Tobirama’s own weapon, and he stumbled backwards under the shock force. Overpowered, he had to roll with his attacker’s momentum to avoid slitting his own throat. On their feet and panting for air, Tobirama got a look at his opponent and the fury boiling in his red eyes.

Red eyes.

“Sharingan...”

The unnamed Uchiha shook with rage. “You killed him. You killed my little brother with that, and now I’m gonna kill you!”

A flurry of hand seals had Tobirama taking a step back, unsure of what was coming until the Uchiha boy inhaled a deep breath and released a great mass of roiling fire. It careened straight for him at impossible speed, and Tobirama had to turn tail and run. His boots sloshed in the mud created from his earlier technique and an idea struck. Channeling his chakra, he called upon the muddy water beneath his feet to rise up behind him in like a shield. The collision with the great fireball was stunning. Steam hissed and mud melted, the water mixed in with it barely enough to keep the fire at bay.

“Tobirama!”

Butsuma’s familiar voice was a welcome sound. He and a young Itama joined his second son just as fire and water fizzled into a mess of charred mud and the smell of bog. Tobirama brandished his short sword at his attacker, ready to deliver the killing blow now that his father was watching.

“Izuna, that’s enough.”

Everyone knew Uchiha Tajima, the leader of the Uchiha clan, by face and name. He placed a hand on the boy’s—Izuna’s—shoulder in silent warning.

“He killed Kemuri!” Izuna said, taking a step forward with every intention of burning Tobirama alive.

Tajima did nothing to betray whatever he felt about the loss of one of his sons. It didn’t surprise Tobirama much. Lives were expendable. If the leader of a great clan were to break down every time he lost men, he would have no time to fight between the mourning. Tobirama shifted, thoughts wandering to his younger brother standing next to him. What if it had been him?

“I suppose I should thank you,” Tajima said, dark eyes fixed on Tobirama and a cruel smirk threatening to bloom. “Your actions have awakened Izuna’s Sharingan.”

Tears fell from Izuna’s transformed eyes and Tobirama had to wonder. Had he done this? Had he given his enemy a better weapon?

“Let’s end this, Butsuma,” Tajima said. “You’ve lost enough men for one day.”

“I should say the same for you,” Butsuma said, one hand on the hilt of his katana.

Tajima’s smirk widened. “Until next time, old friend.”

Izuna held Tobirama’s gaze, red on red as a promise of vengeance sealed in brother’s blood passed between them. Tobirama found himself leaning closer to his own brother, a silent warning.

“Tobirama,” Butsuma said once the Uchiha had withdrawn. “The next time we clash with the Uchiha, kill that boy. Forget about the others. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Father.”

“We can’t afford to let that one grow stronger now that he has the Sharingan.”

The battlefield was a wasteland of mud, soot, and maimed corpses. Uchiha and Senju alike lay in piles, their armor warped with heat and some bloated from drowning. It was always the same story when they crossed paths, and no one ever seemed to get the upper hand in the long run. Destined to fight forever, Tobirama sometimes wondered about the point of it all. But Butsuma was right. If the stories were true, the Sharingan could mean the difference between a win and a loss for the Senju.

And so Senju Tobirama resolved to ensure Uchiha Izuna’s death the next time they crossed paths.

xxx

The day Kawarama died Tobirama was fourteen and still struggling to make good on the promise he’d made his father. Madara had set the field aflame, and Hashirama’s animate wood had only made it worse. Ever the faithful right hand, Tobirama shielded the newly christened Senju leader with his body, hands poised in the fortieth and final seal of the water dragon technique.

“Tobi!” Hashirama said, worry and relief melted together as his little brother bought him precious time to regroup.

But light never strays far from its faithful shadow. Tobirama barely had to time to block the knife to his throat, hissing as it nicked the unprotected skin below his chin. Izuna had a tendency to sneak up on him like this. It made double-teaming Madara impossible.

“Now we’re even,” Izuna said as he pushed harder, screeching metal hurting Tobirama’s ears as they vied for dominance.

In a dirty move, Tobirama kicked hard, forcing Izuna to leap backwards to avoid a blow to the stomach that could have cost him. Fire and water, brother for brother. To say water could douse fire was to underestimate the heat of Izuna’s hatred.

“We’ll never be even!” Tobirama said, redirecting his water dragon technique.

Sharingan spiraled red and black, red and black, and a piercing scream filled the area. Tobirama yelped, hands burning as though the skin were flayed off his palms. Sparks jumped across the body of his water dragon, the electricity having cut deep welts in his hands that blistered and smoked. Izuna, drenched from head to toe and panting, crackled with lightning.

“Lightning trumps water,” he said, water dripping from his long ponytail.

The fighting never stopped. Senju and Uchiha were doomed to repeat history, of this Tobirama was certain. Every time they clashed, more and more of their ranks fell under enemy fire and water, lightning and earth. There was no end to the slaughter and the power, each side becoming stronger only to discover the other catching up.

It wasn’t until Hashirama called a temporary ceasefire that Tobirama realized he’d never actually had a conversation with Izuna that didn’t involve them trying to kill each other. Negotiations were a farce when the Uchiha were involved as far as he was concerned. And yet, while Hashirama and Madara exchanged terms that everyone knew would never be enough to satisfy both sides, Tobirama and Izuna waited outside the chambers, silent and itching to hurt each other out of ingrained habit.

“This will never work, you know,” Tobirama said after nearly a half hour of silent brooding. “It never has before.”

He didn’t know why he’d decided to comment on something so futile. It was obvious to both of them without him pointing it out. Uchiha and Senju would never see eye to eye. There was too much bad blood between them now to reconcile. Hashirama was delusional and Madara was perhaps even more insane to hear out this ludicrous negotiation. Izuna did not respond right away, and Tobirama scowled. He should have known better.

“...And yet, they never stop trying.”

Izuna kept his dark gaze to the ground ahead, torches lending a soft glow to his angular features as they waited on either side of the door to the chambers. All around them, crack patterns danced upon carved stone with each flicker of firelight. There was no one around—Tobirama and Izuna had made sure their brothers would not be disturbed—and yet they spoke in hushed tones.

“It’s useless,” Tobirama said. “After all the Uchiha have done, there will be no forgiving.”

“Ah, and you’re an innocent bystander in all this. Hypocrite.”

The hilt of Tobirama’s sword called to him with an almost audible hum. A part of him wanted nothing more than to drive it through Izuna’s precious eyes right there and now. And yet, he paused.

“You’ve become more vicious over the years,” he said, finally voicing what he’d long suspected. “The older we get, the more hateful you are. Not that I’d expect anything less from an Uchiha.”

Izuna chuckled. “And you’ve become cantankerous. You’re just getting older.”

Murmuring filtered through the heavy wooden doors despite the soundproofing. It did not bode well for their brothers’ talk. Still, they would not move until summoned. They had set aside their mutual animosity and bad blood for this, and neither would betray his brother and leader. If nothing else, they shared that fierce loyalty.

“This will never work,” Tobirama said at last.

“Tell them that. They’re living in a dream world in there. But they’ll wake up. They always do. Hard to sleep when people are screaming all around you.”

“Is that all it is then? A dream.”

“What else would it be? You killed my brother and I killed yours, just like our fathers before us and their fathers before them. The sooner you accept that the better.”

Tobirama frowned. He didn’t like agreeing with Izuna, his brother’s murderer and the bane of his existence for as long as he could remember. He couldn’t help but think that with Izuna out of the way, Madara would stand no chance against Hashirama and himself.

“Funny, isn’t it,” Tobirama said. “We hate each other, and yet we understand each other perfectly. There is no one who knows my sentiments the way you do.”

“You don’t know this hatred,” Izuna said, averting his eyes once more to stare into the gloom. “...This hatred is a curse.”

“Curses can be broken.”

Izuna bared his teeth in a smile, and when he met Tobirama’s gaze once more it burned like the fire illuminating the room. This Sharingan was different, and Tobirama half drew his sword upon instinct.

“There’s no cure for this curse,” Izuna said, making no move to attack. “It will kill me, and it will kill you, too. That’s the only certainty in this world.”

Tobirama was about to ask him what he meant by that when the doors burst open.

“—can’t ever reach a compromise this way!” Hashirama shouted from within.

Madara stormed out. “Who would take those terms? You’re as stupid as you look. Nothing’s changed.”

Izuna and Tobirama exchanged a look before the former tailed after his irritable brother. Hashirama emerged soon after, youthful features twisted in frustration and a little despair. It didn’t suit him at all, but Tobirama kept that thought to himself.

“At least he didn’t attempt to attack you this time,” he said instead.

“I just don’t understand, Tobi. I know he agrees with me, I just know it. But he’s so stubborn! He just won’t give into anything.”

“He’s an Uchiha.” He’s not your brother.

“You make it sound like they’re another species.”

“They are.”

Hashirama sighed and rubbed his eyes. “They’re not. They’re just... Madara’s just looking out for them, that’s all. We’re not so different from them in the end.”

Tobirama said nothing to that. For the first time in his life, he found he could not refute it with complete certainty.

xxx

“What did you mean?”

Blood fell to the ground as Tobirama’s short sword made contact with Izuna’s cheek, so light and delicate. The Uchiha sneered and pulled back, wiping it with a free hand.

“About what?” He fired off a rapid round of hand seals even as he questioned his eternal opponent.

“About the curse that can’t be broken.”

A searing jet of fire careened toward Tobirama at high speed, and if not for the grueling training he’d forced upon himself he would not have survived it. With only a single hand seal he created a water dragon from out of thin air to defend him, catching the fire before it could incinerate him where he stood. The collision birthed a wall of steam, hissing like a brood of angry snakes as fire and water clashed in an age old battle, neither able to overwhelm the other without taking equal damage. At seventeen, they were still stuck in a stalemate.

Forced to shout over the roar of their attacks Izuna said, “Love and hate aren’t so different. The more I hate, the stronger I become. And you make it so easy!”

Tobirama grit his teeth and pushed more chakra into his technique. The water dragon became engorged, slowly but surely pushing back the fire. He would have to be careful lest Izuna resort to lightning. That trick would only work once. All of a sudden, the air around Tobirama became heavy with heat, drawing sweat and turning his cheeks red. A low rumble resounded from the other side of the clash until black tongues peeked out from amidst the orange flames. They grew into thick shadows and slithered into the maw of his dragon, evaporating the water on contact. Alarmed, Tobirama swore and attempted to up the power.

It was no use. Stygian flames reared up and consumed his dragon until they forced him to release his technique and leap to safety. He’d never seen anything like it. Far hotter than any normal fire, there was something spectral about those flames.

“Izuna!”

He stood rooted to the spot, gaze slowly shifting. Tobirama felt a cold chill creep up his spine at the sight of his longtime rival with blood falling from his eyes like tears.

“There’s no cure for this curse.”

“This is what we are, Tobirama,” he said, drawing his twin daggers and advancing. “You and I...we’ll never escape it. Now fight me!”

No one would talk about their battles in the histories. Hashirama and Madara would change the landscape with their power, and Tobirama and Izuna would be there to pick up the pieces. Shadows follow their celestial masters, hiding behind the light.

xxx

“There’s something about the Uchiha that I think you need to know.”

Hashirama looked up from the paperwork he was reading by the light of a thick tallow candle outlining the terms of an alliance with the wealthy Uzumaki clan. He’d insisted on doing it himself even though Tobirama was better with this sort of thing. In any case, it mattered little. Uzumaki Mito, their closest contact and the clan representative, would smooth out any kinks Hashirama overlooked.

“Must we talk about this now? I know your opinion of them already, and I’m tired—”

“I think there’s a reason they are the way they are.”

Hashirama put down his pen and gave his brother his full attention. “Of course there is. We’ve wronged them for generations, as they’ve wronged us. It’s not like they’re doing this for fun.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Tobirama said, thinking on how best to phrase it. “They... It’s like they grow stronger the more they hate.”

“...I would assume so. Hatred is a powerful motivator.”

“No, I mean, they become physically stronger. That new Sharingan isn’t normal. You know it.”

Hashirama smiled a little. “Well, it’s certainly nothing to sneeze at.”

“Izuna said they were cursed. That I don’t understand his hatred.”

“You were speaking with Izuna? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say anything to him that didn’t involve a death threat.”

Tobirama stared at the wall of the small tent set up on the outskirts of Uzushiogakure, the Senju’s current outpost. His shadow flickered under the light of the candles, erratic.

“You don’t know this hatred.”

Why do you always have to be so stubborn?

“This won’t last forever,” he said. “One day, it will catch up to us. That’s what curses do. They fester.”

Hashirama was silent for a long while, and he wondered if his brother understood. “Then we’ll break the curse. That’s what I’ve been trying to do for so long. We’ll do it, Madara and I together. We will.”

“There’s no cure for this curse.”

The sun and the moon would always be the stuff of fancy, leaving the ugly truths of the world to the darkness of shadows. Tobirama left his brother to his dreaming without another word.

xxx

Years later they would talk about how Madara finally came around and made peace with Hashirama. They would talk about how Mito smoothed relations between the two leaders as a voice of reason and gentle influence. They would never speak of this day, the total eclipse of shadow over light, the first step into the abyss. Not until it was too late to turn back.

“Izuna!” Madara screamed in the distance.

His blood was surprisingly warm for someone so coldhearted. It caressed Tobirama’s hand, loosening the grip about the hilt of his sword. Even as he plunged it deeper through Izuna’s chest, his free hand came up to push too-long bangs out of his eyes. Gone was the angry red of the Sharingan. A cough drew bloody spittle.

“T-Tobirama...”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were equals, Senju and Uchiha, yin and yang. One could not exist without the other. One had no meaning without the other. A tight feeling in his throat made it hard to talk without his voice cracking.

“You were supposed to avoid that,” Tobirama said, kneeling them on the ground and supporting Izuna’s weight. “Any idiot could have avoided that.”

“I’m n-not an idiot.”

He was angry. So angry. “Damn you. Damn you to hell.”

Izuna smirked, blood dribbling down his chin. “Then I’ll wait for you there.”

Tears burned as Tobirama felt Izuna grip the hilt of his sword, only blood separating them. That was always how it had been. They were connected in every way but by blood, and in death he was sure of it.

“I suppose...you do know me...best.”

“Izuna, I—” I’m sorry.

“I know. I kn-know.”

Madara and Hashirama were running toward them, coming to their aid for the first time. The world was upside down. It should have been Madara, not Izuna. Shadows are incorporeal. They cannot die.

I am not my brother.

Izuna pushed the sword deeper and twisted it, dark eyes glazing over with the shock of pain. And still he smiled. Tobirama had never seen him smile. Hot tears dripped onto his hand, mixing with Izuna’s blood.

“Maybe...curses can be b-broken...after all.”

Not like this.

He was gone before their brothers could reach them.

xxx

It was a beautiful day in the Hidden Leaf Village. The sun was warm and a light breeze carried the scent of wildflowers to Tobirama’s porch where he sat enjoying the lazy afternoon. It was too hot for his Hokage regalia, so he’d discarded it over the back of his chair. He sensed her long before she turned the corner onto the street leading to his small abode.

“Mito.”

The redhead smiled and took a seat next to him. “Contemplating again, Hokage-sama?”

He stiffened. “Please don’t call me that.”

“It’s your title.”

“It’s my brother’s title.”

Mito’s smile faltered. “It’s yours now. He would be proud.”

Tobirama sighed. After all was said and done, he and Mito were the only ones left. It made no sense. How could shadows linger without light to guide them? He supposed he would lose his mind if not for her.

“How do you do it?” he asked. “Every day...how do you do it?”

Mito put a hand over her navel, perhaps without thinking, and Tobirama could almost see her eyes run red with the Kyuubi’s hatred as it tried to consume her. How did one overcome something so potent?

“I remember what it was like to love,” she said. “But it’s impossible without knowing hatred. Otherwise, you can’t tell the difference.” Knowing eyes as verdant as the forests her husband raised for them seemed to look right through him. “Izuna understood that, and I know you do, as well.”

Tobirama clenched a fist at the memory of his late rival. His enemy. The only one who had ever understood him. Darkness may give light a place to shine, but it can never receive the same courtesy in return. They’d never needed it, anyway.

“I can’t be Hashirama. I’ll never be like him.”

“You don’t have to be. Just don’t forget him. Any of them.”

How could I?

Mito smiled and rose to leave him in peace, but his voice stopped her.

“He was wrong, you know. The Uchiha’s curse couldn’t be broken in the end. That’s why I have to do what I’m doing.”

She watched him with an unreadable look in her eyes. After all that she’d been through with Madara and Hashirama, he supposed she could understand better than most what it meant to live with a curse.

“You’re wrong. You succeeded where Hashirama failed. Stop blaming yourself for saving him.”

He let her go, too stunned to refute her statement. He could not, just as he could not bring himself to disdain Uchiha Kagami when he saw so much of his uncle in him. And he wondered if Izuna had seen Konoha, would he have smiled the way he’d smiled in death?

The sun began its descent toward the horizon. Soon, the fireflies would be out and children would run through the streets to chase them, their laughter filling the air. Tobirama would watch from the shadows as he always did.

“You and I have the best view of the light from where we stand in the shadows.”

He sighed, a smile fighting to spread. It was easy to imagine Izuna next to him here, his silent companion in the darkness even now. He never really was alone in the end.

“Yes, we do.”

#naruto fic #tobiizu #hella old fic i did 7 years ago wow the time where doth it go?#read more got messed up so reposting

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teacupfulofstarshine · 6 years ago

Text

to be set in your place

this is a gift for my wonderful friend @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors!!!! it’s inspired by their remile greek myth one-shot the sky most holy and y’all should go read it it’s amazing and so are they the end

summary: remy never wanted to see theseus again. not after what that self-centered, stuck up hero did to him. so, of course, the fates saw fit to cross their strings. (OR: remy runs into theseus in the afterlife and has some choice words for him.)

pairing: romantic remile, past romantic remy/theseus, background romantic logince

word count: 3603

(tw: brief mentions of implied past character death, theseus being an asshole, mentions of past abandonment)

read it on ao3!

Remy never thought that he would willingly go to the Underworld. He didn’t want to go the first time, hearing the desperate pleas of his husband and children around him as the world faded to black, and when Emile came for him it was the happiest he’d ever been. He had sworn to himself that he would never return to the Underworld again.

If anything was going to get him to go back there, it would be his children.

Emile offers to make them immortal as well, when their threads of fate are finally cut short, but they refuse. “You can’t make us all immortal, Papa, Olympus will be furious,” Immy tells him.

“We have each other here,” Nessy smiles. “And besides, you and Dad can’t expect to spend forever with us following you around, can you?”

“You can always come and visit us!” Missy adds, throwing her arms around her parents. Emile looks like he wants to argue, but Remy lays a gentle hand on his shoulder and shakes his head. Their children are heroes; they have achieved Elysium, just like Remy did, but they have earned it. They will want for nothing here, safe and warm and protected.

“We’ll have to ask Logan if we can visit,” Emile sighs, gathering all his children into his arms and hugging them tightly. Remy carefully wraps his arms around his family, pressing kisses to the foreheads of all of his children. They wave at their parents, and Emile carefully leads Remy to the palace of the king of the Underworld.

“If you are here to request permission to make your children immortal, I have to decline,” Logan says curtly. He sits on his throne and glares at them, but Remy takes no offense; Logan always gets grumpy during the spring and the summer, when his husband returns to the surface world and he is alone. “I cannot continue to let people waltz out of my realm with my subjects.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Emile says gently. “I don’t want to make my children immortal, I just - I want permission to visit them sometimes, for me and my husband.”

Logan sighs. “And I suppose you are just going to pester me until I give you permission, the same way you did when you wanted to make your husband immortal?”

Emile’s cheeks turn pink. “I . . .”

“If he doesn’t, I will,” Remy says firmly. “You know you’re just grumpy right now because Roman’s not here. You of all people know how it feels when you’re separated from your family and you can’t see them.”

Logan glares specifically at Remy, and he hears Emile shuffling his feet nervously at his side but he tilts his chin up defiantly and glares right back. He will not let Logan’s bitching keep him from his children.

Finally, Logan sighs, casting a glance toward the throne next to his. Where his throne is pure black, polished obsidian, sharp and angular, the one next to his is elegant and bone-white, elaborately carved with flowers and vines. Logan reaches out and runs pale fingers over the pale carvings, and Remy wonders how he would react if he only saw Emile for six months of the year.

Suddenly, Logan’s reactions make perfect sense.

“I suppose,” Logan says, voice soft, “that I can permit you to see your children.”

“Thank you,” Emile murmurs, bowing his head.

“Thanks, Logan,” Remy says. “I know how much it sucks, to be separated from your spouse, but there’s only, like, two months left until fall happens. He’s coming back soon.”

“Yes,” Logan murmurs quietly. “That is . . . some comfort. I apologize for my short temper. I find that the absence of my husband tends to . . . exacerbate my more unpleasant character traits.” “Apology accepted. I, for one, am an absolute bitch without my darling Emile around to temper me.” Emile blushes even more and lightly smacks his arm.

“Remy!”

Logan cracks a small smile, however, and Remy counts it as a victory.

*~*~*~*~*

They visit their children once every two weeks. Immy’s husband and Nessy’s wife both make it to Elysium as well, and Missy makes fast friends with a pair of mortals named Virgil and Patton. Virgil is a musician, she eagerly explains, who charmed the rulers of the underworld into giving him a chance to win his husband back, and now they reside in Elysium together. Virgil performs for Logan (and Roman, when the prince of spring returns) on the regular, but he is always happy to perform when Remy and Emile visit.

One day, the first day of fall, Remy is on his own as he ventures to the Underworld. Emile is busy with some godly duty or another, and Remy is quick to assure him that he’ll be okay on his own.

He is not okay. He is very, very lost. Emile is typically in charge of navigating them to the entrance to the Underworld, and Emile is not here, and Remy is lost.

“Fuck!” he shouts angrily. He almost kicks a tree, but decides that today is not the day to get a dryad angry at him.

“Hello?” someone calls. Remy turns rapidly, catching sight of a young man wearing red and white, with glowing bronze skin and fluffy bronze curls. His eyes are bright, and his smile is wide, and Remy inhales sharply as he recognizes the god of spring, the prince of the Underworld. “Is everything okay?”

Remy’s brain short-circuits for a moment before he lowers his head in respect. “Roman, Prince of the Underworld,” he says, because anyone who wants to be in Roman’s good graces doesn’t dare refer to him by the epithet of God of Spring outside of that season.

“No need to be so formal!” Roman laughs, clapping a hand onto Remy’s shoulder. “I know who you are - you’re Emile’s husband, right?”

“I - uh - yeah, I am,” Remy stammers. “I didn’t realize you knew who I was?”

“Well, I am the one who convinced Logan to let Emile take you from Elysium and make you immortal.”

“I really, really appreciate that,” Remy says honestly. Roman smiles, eyes soft.

“I understand the pain of being separated from the person you love most in the world. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody. I don’t think Logan appreciates how easy it is for me to convince him to let his subjects walk out, but I’ve only done it twice and I don’t regret either of those occasions.”

“Are you on your way home?” Roman looks slightly shocked when Remy refers to the Underworld as his home, and for a moment he worries he has upset the god. But then Roman smiles, brilliant and blinding and utterly joyful.

“Yes. Yes, I am, I am going home to my wonderful husband. Is everything alright with you, though? You sounded . . . upset.”

“Understatement,” Remy huffs. “I’m actually headed to the same place as you are.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. My kids are in Elysium, so Em and I visit them pretty regularly, but Em’s busy with godly stuff today so I’m on my own. And because Em usually navigates and I don’t pay attention . . .”

“You’re lost?” Roman guesses.

“So far beyond lost, you have no idea.”

“Well, we’re going to the same place, aren’t we? Let’s go together!”

“That sounds amazing,” Remy says, easily falling into step with the other god. Before he knows what’s happened, he and Roman have been talking for hours and become fast friends, Remy promising to stop by and visit Roman when he visits his children during the winter.

When they approach the entrance of the Underworld, Remy spies a figure standing in the mouth of the cave. They almost appear to be searching for something, and Remy grins as he lightly elbows the other god.

“I think your husband missed you.”

Roman looks towards the cave, and his entire face lights up. He breaks into a run, waving his arms and shouting wildly. The figure is still for only a moment before moving rapidly towards Roman, and Remy takes only a moment to stare in awe at the pink and red carnations springing up in Roman’s wake before he’s hurrying after his new friend.

He catches up just in time for Roman to throw himself at the figure, which turns out to be none other than Logan himself. He catches Roman skillfully, using his momentum to spin them around, laughing gleefully. Roman locks his legs around Logan’s waist and his arms around Logan’s neck and his mouth against Logan’s. Remy smiles softly as flowers sprout spontaneously on Roman’s head, a physical manifestation of his joy. He recognizes red roses, heliotrope, honeysuckle, blue hyacinth, and morning glories among the veritable garden blooming in Roman’s hair as he kisses his husband for the first time in six months.

Remy stands there and watches them kiss for almost a minute. He wants to interrupt with his typical witty sarcasm, but he recognizes that the king of the Underworld has not seen his prince in half a year, so he says nothing.

Finally, they break apart, resting their foreheads together. Roman giggles, and Logan smiles, laughing softly. “Hello, my love,” he rumbles, voice low and impossibly soft.

“Hello, Logan,” Roman responds, rubbing their noses together. “I missed you!”

“And I have missed you. The Underworld is far less alluring without your presence.”

Only after a few more minutes of whispered affections and soft, gentle kisses does Logan notice Remy’s presence. His ears and face slowly redden, although he makes no move to put his husband down or prevent Roman from covering his face in little giggling kisses. “How - how long have you been -”

“The whole time, but don’t worry about it. It’s cute, it really is,” Remy says. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone how the great and powerful scary brooding god of the Underworld is a huge softy when it comes to his husband. I’m just here to see my kids.”

Logan looks like he wants to be angry (or at least severely annoyed), but he is distracted by his armful of happy, loving, giggling Roman. “Very well. Be on your way, then.” “Don’t forget to visit!” Roman chirps. Remy promises that he will, and begins his trek through the Underworld to Paradise.

*~*~*~*~*

Visiting his children is always wonderful. Virgil and Patton are there briefly, greeting Remy warmly before they head to the palace. Remy thinks on Roman’s poetic waxing about the music of the Underworld and hopes he finds the music satisfactory (although he does not doubt Virgil’s skill).

All too soon, Remy is standing and brushing off the thin fabric of his clothing, retying the sandals to his feet. “Do you have to go, Dad?” Immy begs.

“You know how your Papa gets when I leave him alone,” Remy teases. “I died once and he went completely off the rails! I didn’t even stay dead!” It has taken many years to get to the point where he can laughs at his own mortality, at the fact that he almost lost his husband and his children forever. Emile still has not reached that point, but he has at least stopped looking like he is the one with a javelin in his stomach every time Remy jokes about it, which is an improvement.

His children all crowd around to hug him, and he takes special care to cup each of their faces in his hands and press lingering kisses to their foreheads. “Be good, darlings. I love you, very very much, and so does your Papa.”

“We love you guys too, Dad,” Nessy says.

“Give Papa hugs for us, okay?” Missy requests.

“Of course I will. We’ll both see you in a little while, okay?”

His children wave at him as he leaves their corner of Paradise. He may not know the way to the Underworld, but he knows how to get to the palace from Elysium so that Logan can send him home. He is preoccupied as his feet retrace the familiar path, with thoughts of his children and his husband and his new friend the prince of the Underworld, and he is more than used to passing by the souls of departed heroes without much fanfare.

And then he passes someone and hears a sharp intake of breath, a wavering voice that he has not heard in decades, a disbelieving whisper.

“Remy . . .?”

Remy stops in his tracks, and for the first time since Emile kissed him and seared his mortal blood into ichor, his veins run cold as ice. He had never thought he would hear that voice again, but he never forgot it, either.

“It is you, right? You are Remy?”

Remy takes a deep breath, a breath he no longer needs, and turns around.

Theseus is exactly as maddeningly handsome as Remy remembers. He is built like a marble statue, and Remy knows all too well the way his muscles feel beneath his fingertips, the way his rough curls feel tangled in his hands, the way his mouth feels as he bites kisses along Remy’s neck and jaw. He stares into the sea-green eyes of the first man he ever loved, the man who abandoned him on that island all those years ago, and feels something inside him shatter.

Then he feels that something harden.

“Theseus,” he says coolly. “It’s been a long time.”

“Too long,” Theseus breathes. He reaches a hand towards Remy, as though to cup his face. “Gods, Rem, I’ve missed -”

“Don’t,” Remy snaps. Theseus recoils sharply, snatching his hand back as though burned by celestial fire. “Don’t touch me.”

“Rem -”

“Don’t call me that, either. You lost the right when you abandoned me on that island.”

“Rem, listen -”

“Listen to what? I loved you, and you used me. You used me to beat the labyrinth and slay the Minotaur, and for what? I abandoned my home, my family, my life for you, because you promised me a new life! Well, you certainly gave me one, but it wasn’t what you promised!”

Remy’s hands are shaking with anger, and he curls them into fists.

“Clearly you did okay,” Theseus murmurs, taking a step forward. Remy takes a step back. “You made it to Elysium. To Paradise. That means you must have been a hero when you were alive, and that means that we can spend eternity together. I have all the time in the world to apologize to you and make up for what I did, we can start over, we can -”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

Remy raises an eyebrow. “I mean no, Theseus. Did dying rob you of your ability to comprehend language, or did you lose that while you were alive?”

“I - I don’t understand. I thought you said you loved me?”

“Yeah, I did. Loved, past tense. You honestly think I could still love you after what you did to me? Or do they omit you marooning me for dead on an island when they sing the tales of your adventures?”

Theseus flinches, and Remy wonders if he is being too cold, too harsh. Then he remembers the bleakness of waking up on the island alone, the struggle to escape it and save himself, and decides that he is not being harsh enough.

“I messed up, okay?” Theseus’s voice is smaller than Remy can ever recall it being. “I - I was stupid, and full of myself, and high on the success of my mission and - and I thought -”

“You thought what, Theseus?” Remy prompts, when it becomes apparent that Theseus does not intend to finish the statement. Theseus looks at the ground, scuffing his sandal against the path. “You thought what, Theseus.”

“I thought, why should I be tied down to one prince when I would have the world at my fingertips? I didn’t want to take myself out of the game after only seeing one kingdom.” Theseus has the decency to look ashamed of himself, staring at his feet.

Remy laughs, bitter and mirthless. “So I really do mean nothing to you, then.”

“No! I loved you, I love you, I just -”

“Save it,” Remy snaps, “you dense motherfucker. You know nothing about what love is.”

“And you do?” Theseus challenges. “I was stupid, yes! I made a mistake, and I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have left you like that - even if I did change my mind about marrying you, I shouldn’t have left you on an island to die! I should have had the courtesy to at least drop you somewhere populated! But the gods granted you a life in Paradise because you helped me with the labyrinth, and now we can be together! I spent the rest of my life regretting that decision, Rem, you don’t understand -”

He reaches forward to touch Remy again. His fingers close around Remy’s wrist, and Remy steps backward, yanking his hand from Theseus’s grasp.

“I told you not to touch me!” he snaps. Theseus gapes, like Remy has suddenly sprouted a second head, which confuses Remy, because immortality may have changed him but he has always been a firebrand. “And I told you not to call me Rem, and could you be more self-centered?!”

“What?”

“I’m not in Elysium because I helped you, and I certainly didn’t die on that island. I built a raft and I sailed to the mainland and I saved myself, without any help from you or the gods or anyone at all! But I did meet a god while I was on that island where you abandoned me.”

“A god?” The indignation brewing in Theseus’s face morphs to concern, suddenly. “Did they hurt you?”

“Emile would never.”

“You - the god of madness?”

“The god of the mentally ill,” Remy spits, because no one dismisses or diminishes his husband. Not while he’s around. “He came every day, and he always offered to save me or to whisk me away, but he never did. He let me save myself. And I did. And then we got married.”

“You - you married -”

“That’s right. I married a god. I married a god, and he set my wedding crown among the stars, and he -”

Remy stops. He takes a deep, calming breath, the way Emile taught him to, and when he opens his eyes again there is still fury there but also a calmness, one that only time could grant him.

“I married more than a god,” he says. “I married someone who understands me. I married someone who loves me, someone who wakes up every morning and looks at me not like a tool to be used or a prize to be won but as a complex individual who deserves to be treated as such. I married someone who wakes up and looks at me like I am the greatest god damn treasure that has ever existed. I married him, and I had three children with him, and when I died he loved me so much that I was granted an afterlife in Elysium. He loved me so much that he came all the way down here to plead with the god of the Underworld to have me back.”

Remy’s voice drops to a whisper, because he knows that it will break if he doesn’t. “He loved me so much that the god of the Underworld said yes. He loves me so much that he made me immortal.”

“You’re . . . what?”

“I didn’t get here when I died because of you, and I’m certainly not here for you now,” Remy says. “I’m here because my children were heroes, and they’ve been granted a hero’s respite, and I want to visit them.”

Theseus is dumbfounded. He opens his mouth repeatedly, but no words come out. Remy takes a grim satisfaction in that. “I suppose I should thank you,” he says coolly.

“Th - wh - huh?”

“Yeah, I should thank you. Because if you hadn’t marooned me on that island, I never would have met Emile. Your poor judgement and honestly shitty personality led me to meet the love of my life - the love of my existence. I know what true love looks like because of Emile, and I know what it most assuredly isn’t because of you. So thank you, Theseus. I hope you have a good afterlife.”

Remy turns his back on Theseus, heading once more towards the palace. He hears footsteps speed up behind him, hears a painful, angered cry of “Remy, wait -!” and feels a hand begin to close around his wrist again, but then the hand is gone and there’s a sudden swoosh of air.

Remy turns sharply on his heel to see Emile, standing between him and Theseus, holding the stunned hero by the wrist. “I believe,” Emile says, in a voice that manages to be cheerful and deadly and threatening all at the same time, “that my husband asked you not to touch him.”

Theseus jerks his hand away from Emile, who simply smiles at him. “You should be more respectful of other people and their boundaries,” he tells him. Remy cannot see Emile’s expression fully, but he can easily picture the smile on his husband’s face. It appears perfectly normal and calm, but something slightly manic lingers at the edges, something dangerous, something decidedly inhuman.

“Shall we go, my love?” Emile asks, turning his back on Theseus and kissing Remy. He kisses Remy softly, gently, and Remy melts against him. Emile’s hands press against the small of his back and the back of his head as he leans forward, and Remy leans back. He knows Emile will keep him from falling. He trusts Emile with every fiber of his being.

“We shall.”

flower meanings!

pink carnation: i miss you; you are unforgettable red carnation: admiration; i miss you red rose: love; i love you heliotrope: eternal love honeysuckle: bonds of love blue hyacinth: constancy of love morning glory: affection

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@tinkslittlebelle

@joyful-milkshake-observation

@redhoneysugarorange

@lunacatzuniverse

@itsausernamenotafobsong

@virgilcrofters

@cdragontogacotar

@wildheart49

@welp-im-undertale-trash

@randomrainbowslushy

@logical-but-anxious

@ebony-wolf

@morality-is-anxious-too

@angered-turtle

@shadowjag

@ihateitwhenyourejustvague

@punsterterry

@royallyroman

@rainfilledskies

@fandomsofrandom

@trust-me-i-just-get-weirder

@anxie-teaa

@moonfang03

@didnt-murder-anyone-yet

@hungry-red-panda

@holdyourbreathfornow

@forrestwyrm

@thefluffypuppyishere

@oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall

@statsvitenskap

@yty-is-a-gfeat

@wit-is-wisdom

@siren-art

@anxietyisthebestme

@randomfanderfriend

@kittengiggles-puppysnuffles

@a-saltine-in-trying-times

@queer-human-being

@thatpinkpony59

@i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing

@breloomings

@noneed4thistbh

@kikirwheeler

@the-gayest-one-of-them-all

@thegoofyseadragon

@fantasyandfairfolk

@trashysugarbaby

@bassacaglia

@justanormalfoot

@alkimara

@apologetically-anxious

@stardustedsweaterlover

@punkassplonker

@wicked-universe

@maya-tl

@magicalmayhems

@lockolocka

@whyme-tho

@starbuckssippinson

@imnotcrazy-i-swaer

@jemthebookworm

@witchybitchylesbean

@blocksavage1776

@luckybanana948

@why-should-i-tell-youu

@wouldthehill

@pheasantjj

@themainhome

@cats-vetal-miking-vomit

@merlybird500

@error-i-dunno-what-went-wrong

@bangthekobrakid

@absoluteturnip

@dragonwitch20

@goofypersona

@anyay666

@teethietoothies

@smokeyrutilequartz

@i-really-dig-the-purple

@thinniewhinnie

@cieltheanon

@alotofstupidstuff

@impossiblepentagon

@sandersidestrash1

@suspicious-sweaters

@asymmetricalgarbage8888

@lollife

@insanegoldie2

@daring-elm

@why-should-i-tell-youu2

@paperghastly

@theunoriginaldaisy

@emocatholic

@the5thcoy

@apologetically-anxious

@radioactivehelena

@llamaly

@cloudedskies29

@riley-castillo

@nonbinarybullshit

@aleicim

@asymmetricalgarbage8888

@analogical-mess

@smolbeanchildofdeath

@sherlock-lives-on-bakerstreet

@opaque-puppet

@shootingace

@thegeekwiththewaffles

@georganabanana

@starry-sides

@innerduet

@siesieknows

#starshinewrites #remy sanders #emile picani #remile #logan sanders #roman sanders #logince #tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors #a gift for vi!#i love you sm babe i hope that you like this

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sunbrights · 5 years ago

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inktober #17: ornament

fandom: the magicians characters/pairings: this is a mosaic fic bc i'm a SAD SAPPY BITCH rating: t

“Green,” Quentin says, again.

“If it turns out the answer was ‘the spirit of Christmas’ all along,” Eliot says thoughtfully, slotting yet another green tile into F9, “I might actually, completely lose my shit.”

It’s Q’s pattern, so he’s the one up in the chair today, wrapped in a quilt and with their workbook flopped open in his lap. He leans up just enough to poke Eliot between the shoulderblades with the stick they use for orchestrating, the one that Eliot picked up on a whim years ago, and that Q has since shaped and smoothed into something actually useful.

“Shut up,” he says, all warmth. “It’s fun.” And then he says again, like Eliot even needs the guidance at this point: “Green.”

Christmas is a new thing. It’s Q’s new thing. And Quentin isn’t, like, a Christmas person, one of those people who prostrate themselves beneath red and green coffee cups and the one Mariah Carey song they know; he’d never even mentioned it before, in all the years they’ve already been here. But he mentioned it this year. Picked a day out and everything.

(“I just,” he’d mumbled into Eliot’s chest when he first floated the idea, late at night and unable to sleep, “I keep thinking about how when I was a kid, my dad—”

And Eliot doesn’t get it, but… he gets it. So: Christmas.)

They leave the last tile— a bright yellow one that goes right at the center of the star atop Q’s angular, geometric Christmas tree— for Teddy. He comes barreling out of the house on wobbly, excitable legs, Arielle hot on his heels, and Eliot has to catch him around the middle before he face plants right onto the puzzle.

“No,” he wails when Eliot tries to hand him the tile, months-deep already into his whirlwind toddler romance with the N-O word. “I wanna do it!”

He’s incandescently proud of himself when he’s able to squat down on his own and pick it up with both hands, his grin wide and toothy, so... really, Eliot’s the stupid one here.

“Alright,” Q coaches gently, one arm already wound around Arielle's waist like a weird, renaissance-y Christmas card. “Remember, just be careful— there you go.”

The tile slots in. Teddy pats around the edges of it like, presumably, he’s seen them do before, his little face screwed up in concentration.

Nothing happens, thank god.

Teddy doesn’t understand enough about the Mosaic to be disappointed by it. It’s only done what, from his perspective, it’s always done: nothing. So he tips his head back to look at them with that same bright, shining grin, and— honestly, Eliot barely remembers the last time he was disappointed by the Mosaic, either.

He flops dramatically back onto the tiles anyway, because Teddy still finds that shriek-laughingly hilarious, for some reason. He flops, too, fully starfished, one little boot making full-force contact with the side of Eliot's head.

“We’ll get a tree like this one today,” Q says, ever the voice of forward momentum. “Someone has to put the star on top. Who do you think it should be, Ted?”

Teddy shoots to his feet. “Me! I’ll do it!”

His hair is sticking up all over in the back. Eliot sits up enough to smooth it down for him. “You?” He lifts his chin and wrinkles his nose. Teddy scrunches his whole face back at him. “But you’re so short. How will you even reach?”

“I’m not!” He goes up on his tiptoes, arms stretched high over his head. “I can do it!”

Eliot leans back on one arm, rubs his chin, draws his thoughtful hum out, the whole nine yards. Teddy doesn’t waver for a second, hangs on to his determined eye contact, mouth set and fingers wiggling. In his periphery, Eliot can see Q rolling his eyes and Arielle hiding her smile into his temple.

Eliot snaps his fingers. “Ah. I see. How about—” and then he lunges forward to scoop Teddy up by the armpits.

Teddy shrieks again, this time right up against Eliot's ear. Which, whatever, he wasn't planning on winning any awards in long-distance listening any time soon. Teddy's just the right size now for Eliot to plop him on his shoulders, big enough and aware enough to keep himself steady without Eliot having to readjust his center of gravity every two seconds— which means he'll be way too big by this time next year, probably.

Demonstrably so, he twists his hands into Eliot's hair like the goddamn world is ending.

“See?” he crows, all his excitement kicking out through his legs. “I can do it! Daddy, I can do it!”

Q is smiling, sparkling like the whole fucking sky opened up and dumped every star in existence straight into the creases of his dimples. “You sure can, buddy.”

“Fine,” Eliot allows, catching Teddy's tiny, destructive feet in both hands, “but I get to hide the pickle.”

Arielle, who only hears the double-entendre, snorts indelicately into her hand. Teddy, who only hears the ridiculous combination of sounds that make up the word pickle, cracks up all over again.

Quentin, in his gold-star, stern-Dad-voice, says, “Eliot.”

“It’s only fair,” Eliot answers. “I did the legwork to get one, and, yes, it was exactly as tedious and impossible as it sounds. I deserve it.”

“What?” Arielle laughs, which he expects.

“What?” Quentin says at the same time, completely serious, which he doesn't.

“The ornament?” He’s getting the same blank, confused look, so he can’t help himself when he says, “Wait, what did you think I meant?”

“Eliot,” Q says again, decidedly less stern this time.

The thing with the pickle ornament is, it turns out, not as ubiquitous as Eliot assumed it was. He ends up having to explain it, which is— fine. Teddy’s excited, and Arielle thinks it’s cute, so they’ll do it. Simple. It should be validating, because it really was a pain in the ass, trying to find-slash-construct an ornament that would work.

On the other hand, he also kind of wishes he hadn’t bothered.

“We never did anything like that when I was a kid,” Quentin says, once Teddy has scurried back inside. It’s his affected-casual voice, the one he uses when he’s trying to make a point but doesn’t want to seem like he is.

“It’s really not that complicated, Q,” Eliot tells him. “But if you need help, you know I’m always happy to demonstrate.”

A wry, slanted little smile blooms across his face. “No, jackass.” And then it curls back in on itself again, quick as it came. He steps close, bumps their shoulders, tangles their arms, their elbows, their fingers. “I just, um. I’m pretty sure that makes it your tradition, El.”

Oh.

Eliot thinks it’s a weird way to frame it. Tradition is what Quentin is doing: letting the legacy of his family live on while his family isn’t here to participate. Eliot just… has a few semi-okay memories of tearing up a Christmas tree with his very Midwestern number of little cousins, and assumed everyone else did, too.

He says, “I guess.”

Q is peering up at him, searching his face. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that,” he says, when Eliot doesn’t say anything else. “If it’s... weird, or bad, then—”

“Pretty sure that ship has sailed, Q. I can tell you from experience that if that child doesn’t find a pickle by this time tomorrow, we’ll have goddamn armageddon on our hands.”

“Sure, but...”

But... what?

The pickle ornament he found isn't really a pickle. It's a western marshlands long radish. They grow for months in muck and swamp slime, and they’re an absolute bitch to cook right; simmer them too hot, or for too long, and they get awfully, nastily bitter, bad enough to spoil a whole stew.

Teddy’s the only one in the family who likes them, because Teddy’s only ever eaten them after Eliot finally got the recipe right.

“It’s okay,” he decides, right that second. He tugs Q against him, tucks his worried, furrowed brow under his chin. “It really is. It’s— good. I think.”

“You think,” Quentin echoes, softly amused, but all his tense muscles go looser, just a bit. Just enough.

“Almost certain,” Eliot tells him. “Like, at least sixty percent. Minimum.” He closes his eyes, touches his lips just to the edge of Q’s hairline, and manages, softly, “Promise.”

He’s been doing this a long time. He’s spent years, decades, whatever, just— taking all the broken, sharp-edged pieces that came tumbling out of Whiteland back in the summer of 2010, and turning them into something new. Something different. Something his.

His stupid radish ornament. His queer little family. His shrieking, beaming son. His backwards, bizarre, beautiful mess of a life.

As far as traditions go, Eliot thinks he could do worse.

#eliot waugh #quentin coldwater #queliot #the magicians #anyway remember when i was doing inktober in october #ME NEITHER #whatever it's christmas this counts #this is way longer than an inktober should be bc ive got absolutely no chill when it comes to domestic bullshit sorry friends #inktober 2019 #sunwrites

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startswithabang · 6 years ago

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Ask Ethan: How Can A Black Hole's Singularity Spin?

“How [is] angular momentum conserved when stars collapse to black holes? What [does] it means for a black hole to spin? What is actually spinning? How can a singularity spin? Is there a "speed limit" to this spin rate and how does the spin affect the size of the event horizon and the area immediately around it?”

When you think about a black hole, you probably think about an enormous amount of mass confined within an event horizon, collapsing down to a singular point at its center. And this is fine: this is just how Karl Schwarzschild conceived of it way back in 1916. But the stars and other forms of matter that potentially give rise to black holes cannot be point-like, since they all rotate. What happens to those rotational properties, or to angular momentum (which is always conserved), when they form a black hole? There are a lot of counterintuitive things that occur inside, and you’ll want to learn them all after reading this!

In the aftermath of the Event Horizon Telescope’s big reveal, you just might join me in hoping Roy Kerr wins the Nobel Prize for his incredible 1963 paper.

#black hole #singularity #angular momentum #roy kerr

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aimlesslycreative · 5 years ago

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"He showed the students a YouTube video of Olympic gold medalist figure skater, Yuzuru Hanyu, performing his winning routine.... Meyers used [Hanyu's rotations] to explain the conservation of angular momentum, or the change in the spin of the solar system and objects within it, as they get smaller (contract) or larger (expand)."

#figure skating #science #science informed by art #rakshar

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gsimpatico · 2 years ago

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astrophysics my love

flux-luminosity, the velocity inside my step, my breath the depth arching like the self-harming i seem to flavor far too often, the magnitude distant to the aptitude i opt in, the loss wins and i cant stop yet. force, like light ignite and drop in. absorbed the first law says the orbits are ellipses with the sun at one focus, how bogus below us in angular circular motion it rows us and the milky way the wilting day owns us but the polar coordinate system with the sun at the origin could learn to swim as we spin like oceans to men the same i came and so i went the path of the planet r of theta i haven't but ill let ya i bet ya the equation for an eclipse is equal to a times one minus e squared over one plus e cos theta, whateva. Ill love you forever, however, the conservation of angular momentum, so i let them, and the third law at least for circular orbit, exorbitant love can be that and more if you let, yourself bet yourself start from f equals m a and the inverse square law of gravity the heart, o hell the mastery of your masterpiece is all i need. the start The constant of the earths orbit is pi a u squared per year girth or its Because the birth the holy mother earth is a circle of radius 1 which has a total area of pi. at least thats what you see when you look to the sky you and i

#notes poetry

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brookstonalmanac · 3 years ago

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Events 7.26

657 – First Fitna: In the Battle of Siffin, troops led by Ali ibn Abu Talib clash with those led by Muawiyah I. 811 – Battle of Pliska: Byzantine Emperor Nikephoros I is killed and his heir Staurakios is seriously wounded. 920 – Rout of an alliance of Christian troops from Navarre and Léon against the Muslims at the Battle of Valdejunquera. 1309 – Henry VII is recognized King of the Romans by Pope Clement V. 1469 – Wars of the Roses: The Battle of Edgecote Moor, pitting the forces of Richard Neville, 16th Earl of Warwick against those of Edward IV of England, takes place. 1509 – The Emperor Krishnadevaraya ascends to the throne, marking the beginning of the regeneration of the Vijayanagara Empire. 1529 – Francisco Pizarro González, Spanish conquistador, is appointed governor of Peru. 1581 – Plakkaat van Verlatinghe (Act of Abjuration): The northern Low Countries declare their independence from the Spanish king, Philip II. 1703 – During the Bavarian Rummel the rural population of Tyrol drove the Bavarian Prince-Elector Maximilian II Emanuel out of North Tyrol with a victory at the Pontlatzer Bridge and thus prevented the Bavarian Army, which was allied with France, from marching as planned on Vienna during the War of the Spanish Succession. 1745 – The first recorded women's cricket match takes place near Guildford, England. 1758 – French and Indian War: The Siege of Louisbourg ends with British forces defeating the French and taking control of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence. 1775 – The office that would later become the United States Post Office Department is established by the Second Continental Congress. Benjamin Franklin of Pennsylvania takes office as Postmaster General. 1788 – New York ratifies the United States Constitution and becomes the 11th state of the United States. 1803 – The Surrey Iron Railway, arguably the world's first public railway, opens in south London, United Kingdom. 1814 – The Swedish–Norwegian War begins. 1822 – José de San Martín arrives in Guayaquil, Ecuador, to meet with Simón Bolívar. 1822 – First day of the three-day Battle of Dervenakia, between the Ottoman Empire force led by Mahmud Dramali Pasha and the Greek Revolutionary force led by Theodoros Kolokotronis. 1847 – Liberia declares its independence. 1861 – American Civil War: George B. McClellan assumes command of the Army of the Potomac following a disastrous Union defeat at the First Battle of Bull Run. 1863 – American Civil War: Morgan's Raid ends; At Salineville, Ohio, Confederate cavalry leader John Hunt Morgan and 360 of his volunteers are captured by Union forces. 1882 – Premiere of Richard Wagner's opera Parsifal at Bayreuth. 1882 – The Republic of Stellaland is founded in Southern Africa. 1887 – Publication of the Unua Libro, founding the Esperanto movement. 1890 – In Buenos Aires, Argentina the Revolución del Parque takes place, forcing President Miguel Ángel Juárez Celman's resignation. 1891 – France annexes Tahiti. 1892 – Dadabhai Naoroji is elected as the first Indian Member of Parliament in Britain. 1897 – Anglo-Afghan War: The Pashtun fakir Saidullah leads an army of more than 10,000 to begin a siege of the British garrison in the Malakand Agency of the North West Frontier Province of India. 1899 – Ulises Heureaux, the 27th President of the Dominican Republic, is assassinated. 1908 – United States Attorney General Charles Joseph Bonaparte issues an order to immediately staff the Office of the Chief Examiner (later renamed the Federal Bureau of Investigation). 1918 – Emmy Noether's paper, which became known as Noether's theorem was presented at Göttingen, Germany, from which conservation laws are deduced for symmetries of angular momentum, linear momentum, and energy. 1936 – Spanish Civil War: Germany and Italy decide to intervene in the war in support for Francisco Franco and the Nationalist faction. 1936 – King Edward VIII, in one of his few official duties before he abdicates the throne, officially unveils the Canadian National Vimy Memorial. 1937 – Spanish Civil War: End of the Battle of Brunete with the Nationalist victory. 1941 – World War II: In response to the Japanese occupation of French Indochina, the United States, Britain and the Netherlands freeze all Japanese assets and cut off oil shipments. 1944 – World War II: The Red Army enters Lviv, a major city in western Ukraine, capturing it from the Nazis. Only 300 Jews survive out of 160,000 living in Lviv prior to occupation. 1945 – The Labour Party wins the United Kingdom general election of July 5 by a landslide, removing Winston Churchill from power. 1945 – World War II: The Potsdam Declaration is signed in Potsdam, Germany. 1945 – World War II: HMS Vestal is the last British Royal Navy ship to be sunk in the war. 1945 – World War II: The USS Indianapolis arrives at Tinian with components and enriched uranium for the Little Boy nuclear bomb. 1946 – Aloha Airlines begins service from Honolulu International Airport. 1947 – Cold War: U.S. President Harry S. Truman signs the National Security Act of 1947 into United States law creating the Central Intelligence Agency, United States Department of Defense, United States Air Force, Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the United States National Security Council. 1948 – U.S. President Harry S. Truman signs Executive Order 9981, desegregating the military of the United States. 1951 – Walt Disney's 13th animated film, Alice in Wonderland, premieres in London, England, United Kingdom. 1952 – King Farouk of Egypt abdicates in favor of his son Fuad. 1953 – Cold War: Fidel Castro leads an unsuccessful attack on the Moncada Barracks, thus beginning the Cuban Revolution. The movement took the name of the date: 26th of July Movement 1953 – Arizona Governor John Howard Pyle orders an anti-polygamy law enforcement crackdown on residents of Short Creek, Arizona, which becomes known as the Short Creek raid. 1953 – Soldiers from the 2nd Battalion, Royal Australian Regiment repel a number of Chinese assaults against a key position known as The Hook during the Battle of the Samichon River, just hours before the Armistice Agreement is signed, ending the Korean War. 1956 – Following the World Bank's refusal to fund building the Aswan Dam, Egyptian leader Gamal Abdel Nasser nationalizes the Suez Canal, sparking international condemnation. 1957 – Carlos Castillo Armas, dictator of Guatemala, is assassinated. 1958 – Explorer program: Explorer 4 is launched. 1963 – Syncom 2, the world's first geosynchronous satellite, is launched from Cape Canaveral on a Delta B booster. 1963 – An earthquake in Skopje, Yugoslavia (present-day North Macedonia) leaves 1,100 dead. 1963 – The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development votes to admit Japan. 1968 – Vietnam War: South Vietnamese opposition leader Trương Đình Dzu is sentenced to five years hard labor for advocating the formation of a coalition government as a way to move toward an end to the war. 1971 – Apollo program: Launch of Apollo 15 on the first Apollo "J-Mission", and first use of a Lunar Roving Vehicle. 1974 – Greek Prime Minister Konstantinos Karamanlis forms the country's first civil government after seven years of military rule. 1977 – The National Assembly of Quebec imposes the use of French as the official language of the provincial government. 1989 – A federal grand jury indicts Cornell University student Robert T. Morris, Jr. for releasing the Morris worm, thus becoming the first person to be prosecuted under the 1986 Computer Fraud and Abuse Act. 1990 – The Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 is signed into law by President George H.W. Bush. 1993 – Asiana Airlines Flight 733 crashes into a ridge on Mt. Ungeo on its third attempt to land at Mokpo Airport, South Korea. Sixty-eight of the 116 people onboard are killed. 1999 – Kargil conflict officially comes to an end. The Indian Army announces the complete eviction of Pakistani intruders. 2005 – Space Shuttle program: STS-114 Mission: Launch of Discovery, NASA's first scheduled flight mission after the Columbia Disaster in 2003. 2005 – Mumbai, India receives 99.5cm of rain (39.17 inches) within 24 hours, resulting in floods killing over 5,000 people. 2008 – Fifty-six people are killed and over 200 people are injured, in the Ahmedabad bombings in India. 2009 – The militant Nigerian Islamist group Boko Haram attacks a police station in Bauchi, leading to reprisals by the Nigeria Police Force and four days of violence across multiple cities. 2011 – A Royal Moroccan Air Force Lockheed C-130 Hercules crashes near Guelmim Airport in Guelmim, Morocco. All 80 people on board are killed. 2016 – The Sagamihara stabbings occur in Kanagawa Prefecture in Japan. Nineteen people are killed. 2016 – Hillary Clinton becomes the first female nominee for President of the United States by a major political party at the Democratic National Convention in Philadelphia. 2016 – Solar Impulse 2 becomes the first solar-powered aircraft to circumnavigate the Earth.

#Events

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