#its possible that one could travel from one pole to the other and then to that continent while traving mostly by land

[arolesbianism]

I am making a rough world map for the staliens home planet atm and it's been a lot of me going wee yay yippee :D until the mountains hit

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Breaking Your Walls: E.W

Content: Ellie Williams x Fem! reader, sexual content, Santa Barbara setting, near-death situation, porn with plot basically, oral sex (r! receiving), tribbing, sex on the shores, may contain grammar or spelling mistakes

݁Word Count: 4.3k

Description: You're used to moving from group to group in California, not wanting to stick around to watch someone you get attached to die. Ellie's on her own revenge mission in Santa Barbara when she sees you in the worst possible situation. You try not to open up to her, not wanting to actually feel something for someone who can die at any moment, but it's hard when she's everything you could ask for. Enjoy!

You were tied up to the wooden beam as it rot along with you. Your wrists were sore and probably red, your mind fuzzy with the blood loss. All of the labor done at the orders of cruel people, the countless hours all spent for naught, only to die on some pathetic wooden stake.

When you left your group, you thought it would be a fresh start. Los Angeles settlements were always safe, but sometimes you craved more. You didn't have a family, so you travelled a lot. It was easier to hop from place to place than to settle down. It was always easier not to fall in love with the people you met or to even feel an attachment to them. So when you left for Santa Barbara, you were feeling that adrenaline from survival. It was quite addictive.

Most people would say that living in a post-apocalyptical reality should not have been romanticized. It was constant grief, violence, and an embarrassing lack of hygiene amongst all people. But those who actually experienced it all knew the bond formed along with the trauma. Maybe that's why so many people willingly left the safety of settlements or mass groups. There was too much routine, and it's almost impossible to get used to not having to rely on pure wit and survival instincts.

There was no denying the dangers of travelling in your world, however. There was no way of pretending, not when you were currently on your death bed. Or more accurately, your death pillar. You only wanted to have another reckless adventure, and look where that got you. You had already accepted the death offered to you upon this pole, however. Now it was only a matter of actually dying.

The sun was constantly beating down upon you, mocking you in a way. You remembered how much you used to love the sun. Your mother would teach you sayings that got you through rather tough times.

"The nights may be rough, and you may doubt you'll even be alive in the morning. However, the sun will always come back out. The day will be new."

There wasn't much to believe in now that the sun was seeming to drain your body of its livelihood even more than you were already enduring. You were starving and you could feel your body giving up on your will to live. The first few days you had tried to escape and found no hope once you watched the other slaves around you practically drop like flies. You weren't even sure how long it had been since you were able to touch the ground. You just hoped the afterlife would be good to you, and maybe you would find your family once more.

You swear you almost saw the pearly gates and for some reason, it hurt. You hit the ground with a thud and your vision was betraying you more than you could ever predict. There was possibly a person standing over you, one who wasn't much taller than you. And then you lost consciousness.

-

You awoke to a cold rag on your face, and you felt some dusty couch underneath you. You were somewhere in California still, you could tell by the window outside and the heat that still harassed your skin. You saw the figure once more and your vision finally adjusted.

She looked unhealthy too, lanky with her ribs slightly visible even through her bloodied tank top. Her hair was messy and an auburn shade that seemed to reflect some reddish undertones when she shifted and the sun hit the strands just right. She looked as if she had been injured, and you were puzzled to how she seemed so unbothered by her state.

"You're awake." She stated as if you didn't already know that. She wore a cautious expression, and you could tell she wasn't keen on trusting you yet. You couldn't blame her, but it was obvious you were also in no position to harm her.

You let out a shaky breath and tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness fell over you. You were reminded of how hungry you were, and your throat was dry with the need for water. The girl seemed to notice, and tossed you a flask.

"Drink slowly, or you're gonna end up heaving up water. You look like a fucking corpse, you know that?" Her words were harsh but laced with some concern her face tried to lack. You tried to hold back from chugging the water. It was warm and probably not the most fresh, but you were desperate. The liquid went down your throat and you couldn't help but wonder who this angel woman was. She seemed to even match her actions with her appearance; there was just a hint of a flutter your stomach couldn't suppress when you glanced at her. Maybe it was nausea, but regardless, you found her beautiful. Like some auburn-haired savior.

"What's your name?" You asked, your voice raspy with disuse.

She didn't seem to mind. "Ellie. Yours?"

"It's (name)," you replied.

Ellie nodded and and appeared stuck in her own thoughts. You noticed the way she fidgeted with her fingers, and you wondered how someone who looked so intimidating could be awkward. You really, wanted to know what happened to her, given her own brash condition.

"You look fucked up. You should probably eat." She finally commented, and you nodded. You tried not to seem too desperate, but you really needed some sustenance. Ellie walked over to her backpack and picked up a can of beef stew off of the ground. She unzipped the backpack, pulling out a well-used can opener. You tried not to stare too hard at the way her biceps flexed as she moved around.

She returned to you with the can and a spoon, and you noticed how much softer her face appeared than it did when you had woken up.

"Here. Eat slowly, or don't complain if you puke it all up." You couldn't help but smile at the hint of humor in her words, and you tried to savor the feeling of food in your mouth instead of trying to finish it all in under five minutes. She observed, probably wondering whether or not to make any more comments for you to listen to. She knew she should just be quiet, but Ellie had a tendency to not care much. She could be dearly honest when it was needed, even though you looked like the last thing you needed was for someone to tell you that you smelled like body odor and garbage.

"Girls like you end up in groups just like the Rattlers all of the time, you know." Her voice was measured, not knowing why she blurted that out.

"Well, yeah. Anyone around here is vulnerable to them." You defended yourself.

"I just don't understand why you're here, then. I'm assuming you knew about slavers here in Cali. It's swarming with 'em." She raised an eyebrow at you; she couldn't help but wonder just what you were doing here.

"I've lived in California for a while now." You stated as if it was nothing, but Ellie wasn't dumb.

"I could've figured that out, but that means you're smart enough to know better than to travel alone in a fucked up area."

At least with those words, you took a pause. She saw right through you. You cleared your throat further, and spoke again. "I've been travelling along my entire life, I know the risks."

Ellie scoffed. "Yeah, good for you. Knowing the risks doesn't mean running around any less foolish."

"I don't see you with a group. You're just alone as me." You countered, and you noticed the way Ellie's eyes flickered down.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Sorry.." She sighed and brought a hand to her face, tucking a stray auburn piece behind her ear.

The silence grew uncomfortable. You didn't know this girl, and yet there was something in her mannerisms and words that made you feel that she would not be a passing stranger.

"Hey.." Her voice trailed off as she struggled to find the proper words. "Rest up in here. I'll go search around the area for some supplies. Don't think about moving, by the way."

You wanted to protest and tell her that you could go your separate ways as if she never saved you, but you knew that in your condition, you needed her. For once, you needed someone, and you couldn't just run off to go live your nomadic ways.

You nodded and laid back down against the couch. It was a far cry from new or even clean, but it was infinitely better than a wooden pillar.

-

As the weeks went by, you slowly recovered and gained some weight back onto your body. You knew that soon, you would be able to go your own solitary way again. However, it was annoyingly difficult to imagine doing so.

Over the weeks, Ellie's ways grew on you. It started with her smile and the way her eyes contained a hint of humor throughout herself. It was always small and you had a feeling that once, she was more carefree, but you ask her about that. Only let your heart flutter when she told you a dad joke. From there, it was then her voice and how she rasped on, sometimes not having much to say and other times telling you stories about a small settlement in Wyoming. You told yourself you were just bored from being forced to stay in the home the two of you held shelter in, but you knew damn well it was more than that.

You also knew she loved someone else. A woman named "Dina." She never told you outright, but you could see it in her body language. You were observant enough to notice the way she tried to brush it off, and only ended up looking almost child-like, like a young girl in love.

You tried not to let yourself grow a soft spot for her. She was already spoken for, at least her heart was. You had no place in her life in such a way. But it was just so hard when small moments lingered, increasing in tension. Ellie was everything to a girl that had inextricably nothing, a girl that didn't know what letting feelings linger felt like. In any other condition, perhaps you would've ran off far, far away from this auburn girl. But by some strange inconvenience, by your own body's limitations, you're here with her.

-

You were laid on the couch starting at the ceiling. You didn't know what time it was, but from the window, you guessed it was well into the night. The faint sound of crickets carried throughout the air, and you could sense Ellie's presence on the floor below you. You didn't want to glance over at her.

You could already imagine the way her face would be moonlit from the shine in her eyes, the small pieces of shaded hair, the mold of her face. It was like a being begging to be touched, how inexplicably gorgeous she was. Daydreams of having the chance to tug the strands and make her sigh, to feel her in ways you could only imagine what was like-

Now you were getting ahead of yourself.

You were supposed to be recovering so that you could leave. You needed the sleep, needed the rest for your sore body after being practically tortured for weeks, but you were restless. You let out a soft sigh, giving up. You sat up and brushed through your hair, which was in extreme need of a wash. Then, you got a stupid idea. You knew it was risky, but you were in desperate need of a rinse.

With quiet but inevitably creaking steps, you managed to slip out of the house. From the view, it was clear that you were still in Santa Barbara, just on the outskirts. the moon was the only source of light across the entire view, and you could see the water smothering moist sand at the shore of the beach. It wasn't far; maybe a five minute walk. With a deep breath of courage, you took the walk.

Your body was in much better condition than it was weeks ago, but it still was a far cry from the body it used to be, the one that could handle itself. Now, you felt vulnerable, knowing that if infected were to catch a glimpse of you, you'd have to pull a you and run. You wouldn't be guaranteed an escape, though.

Your shoes made a soft crunching noise against the beach. You kicked your shoes off and then slipped free from your jeans, your shirt, and then finally undergarments. The breeze was slightly cool, but only heightened the feelings conflicting in your mind from being naked on a shore in which anyone could find you. Still, you needed a damn wash.

At the feeling of cool ocean water lapping at your feet, you felt truly alive. The moon was proudly beaming above you. You used to think the moon was like some torturous level to get past, that the sun was your savior. Now, you let yourself absorb soft, cool fragments of luminosity.

Your body was now within the water to your waist. You closed your eyes, letting out deep breaths, before kneeling down into the water. The sudden submergence made you shudder, but you could feel the way the salty water mixed within your scalp and enveloped your body. When you finally surfaced, you were met with the sound of a familiar raspy voice.

"Scared the fuck out of me so you could go skinny-dipping?" She stood at the shore, brows knit together in frustration, but some worry hid beneath it.

You quickly turned around, not expecting to actually be caught. Fuck. Your hands instinctively went to cover your chest, but Ellie only sighed as if she'd already given up on lecturing you. She was used to you by now.

"Mind if I join you?" She already made quick works of kicking off her dirty converse. You only nodded, not knowing what to say. You didn't know if you could handle being naked next to her, but you couldn't explain to her that you had a stupid school-girl style crush on her. Plus, she definitely needed to get cleaned up too.

You could hear the sound of her clothes coming off and then the slight splash of her walking into the ocean. You closed your eyes and dared not to look behind you.

"Your hair is gonna be salty." You jolted when you realized she was right next to you, only a few inches of space between your bodies. Fuck, you tried not to look. It was too hard, though. Only an involuntary flicker, and you could see the way her body was practically sculpted like some goddess. Not in a conventional way, either. Her hip bones were visible through her skin, and you could faintly trace over her ribs with your gaze. Her breasts were small, but they sat beautifully on her body and her nipples were slightly hardened by the breeze. You couldn't fully make out all of her features in the dark, but the was gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous, and you had to look away before you lost your mind.

"Um, yeah. It needed a wash, though." You cleared your throat to compose yourself. Ellie's lips tugged into a slight smile, but she didn't make an effort to comment on your defensive tone.

For a few minutes, all you did was look up at the stars. They were dim, but created a portrait of beacons, and they reminded you ever so slightly of Ellie's face and how you wished to make constellations out of her freckles. The silence was comfortable but left you alone in your thoughts that you wished to hide from. It was even harder to hide from them when Ellie's fingers brushed up against your hand, slightly wet from the salty water.

"What are you doing?" You flinched away out of instinct, and immediately regretted it. You wanted her touch, why did you do that? You hated the barriers you set so naturally, not wanting anybody close.

"I'm so sorry, I just..guess I misread your face." She sounded embarrassed and slightly dejected. You were extremely nervous, not ever even letting anyone see you like this, but you couldn't help yourself.

"No, it's okay. I do.." You trailed off slightly before finding the courage to turn and face her. "I do want you to touch me." You knew you probably sounded pathetic, all shaky and quiet, but definitely certain. It was enough for Ellie.

She turned to you, her body almost grazing yours. She hesitated only slightly, her eyes following her own arm, before she finally let her hands trail up your arms. Her fingertips traced the dip in your collarbone, and you couldn't find it in you to shy away. Even though her touch was innocent, bordering on more than that, it was hard to resist when she was here offering you everything you wanted, and you were subconsciously touch-deprived.

Soon following, her lips grazed over your wrist, her eyes on yours as if seeking approval. Your breath hitched slightly at her implication and you nodded. Her mouth wasn't as slow as her hands, sliding its way up to smother soft, sensual kisses on your shoulders. When her lips met the space between your shoulder and neck, her tongue darted out to taste your salty skin, and you let out a small involuntary sound, a mix between a gasp and a moan. She pulled back to read your expression before her mouth latched onto your neck, her body now pressing against yours. You could feel her everywhere; chest to chest, hips conjoined, and it made your head spin with the need for more.

When her kisses reached your ear, she paused. "Can I kiss you?" Her heated breath was hitting your ear, making you weak in the knees.

You swallowed and nodded, but Ellie didn't seem impressed.

"Say the words." Her voice was a whisper and her words her blunt, demanding. Her tone though, it was laced with sweetness. She could probably sense your inexperience.

"I want you to kiss me." You got the words out, and Ellie was satisfied.

Her lips left soft pecks on your jawline until they reached your chin, and then with her fingers, tilted it slightly so she her lips could taste yours.

The kiss wasn't sweet like in the novels, but rather salty, and her lips chapped. You didn't mind. Her hands found your waist and tugged your body closer until there was no room between your bodies. Her tongue slid between your parted lips, making you let out a soft whine. You didn't fully know what you were doing, but your eagerness made the kiss just as good. Her kisses went from soft and gentle so sloppy, wet, and desperate. Your own hands grasped at her face, needing more. You felt a heat, an ache between your legs, but you tried not to focus on it too much. It was all an overload to you; the way her body rubbed against yours as the two of you moved, how her lips took your bottom one into into her mouth and suckled onto it, the scent of the ocean and the sand between your toes.

Before you could even register it, Ellie was guiding you back onto the shore and laying you down onto the sandy surface. Her body followed yours swiftly, her lips chasing yours back. You were a heap of tangled limbs on the ground, grains of sand stuck to your back and your hair as it was spread out against the sand. Her hips were fit snug between your thighs and her hand moved to hitch one of your legs around her waist. Your moans were swallowed by her mouth, your hands rubbing over her back to find purchase in the situation. None came.

Her lips began trailing from your own to your neck, collarbone, and then shoulders. She paused at before her breath fully hit your chest, making sure you were still wanting her. Your face was flushed even in the night, and your eyes half-lidded. That was enough for her to make contact with your boobs, taking one into her mouth and swirling her tongue around your hardened nipple. You gasped her name, fingers tugging into her hair. You could feel her smile slightly and switch to the other nipple. Her hands held your waist, squeezing it slightly as she finally moved further down. Her tongue swirled around your navel and down to your thighs. When her lips met your left inner-thigh, you let out a short breath, practically panting.

"Ellie..." Your eyes were closed, your body slightly tense in anticipation.

"Do you want this?" Ellie looked for confirmation, her lips now gently mouthing at each thigh.

"Yes, I do..but I've never done this before." You admitted weakly.

Ellie looked up when you said that and squeezed one of your hands with her own. "That's okay. Just relax for me, 'kay?"

You nodded, eyes closed, only relying on her touch. Her hands gently worked to pry your legs further apart, and you allowed her to. Then, you felt her hot breath fan over your cunt, making all blood rush to it, before licking from your hole to your clit, hardly grazing it with her tongue.

You were already wet, but that made you practically Nigeria-falls level flooded. You couldn't hold back the strange, needy sound that left your parted lips. Your body twitched, legs moving instinctively to close, but Ellie's grip on your thighs was strong. She moved to hitch your legs over her shoulders, and kissed at your thighs like a tease once more.

"Just let yourself enjoy it. Feels good, doesn't it?" You couldn't respond, only silently nodding and hoping she could understand the feelings coursing through you. When she felt you relax more, she continued her work.

Her tongue flicked at your clit before slipping into your hole, making your hips jolt slightly. She didn't stop, only letting you feel her mouth against your pussy. Ellie would occasionally let out soft vibrational sounds against you, making your head spin and your stomach flutter. It wasn't like anything you'd ever felt before. You had obviously taken care of yourself before, but having someone else's tongue inside your cunt while your legs squeezed around their head? It was another type of heaven you only understood in other types of senses, not physical pleasure.

If you were even able to think of anything besides the heat Ellie's touch provided, you would've been concerned about how you would be able to fare without this treatment every single day. But you couldn't worry, not when this felt so good. You could only appreciate it for what it was worth, and that felt like everything.

You were growing needier, hips grinding your cunt against her mouth while you chanted her name. "Ellie", "Ellie, oh god..", "Please, I'm so close Ellie-"

Your stomach was all tied in knots, and she was only encouraging the feeling and you wondered just how euphoric it'd be to finally release all over her face, to taint her with your arousal.

Soon, you just couldn't help it; the knots she had you tied up in snapped, and Ellie didn't stop, letting you ride out the high. She could hear your pants, the cries you were letting out, and the way your plush thighs practically suffocated her. All she could focus on was your taste, how you just came from her nose brushing up against your clit and her tongue filling your insides. It made her just as needy as you.

You didn't get much of a break, only some soft kisses to your thighs before she was moving up your body and spreading your wobbly legs to feel your soaked cunt against her own. You whined, overstimulated, and she leaned to nuzzle her face into your neck, spilling apologies she didn't really mean. "Sorry, baby..just need you. It's gonna feel good, I promise."

Her cunt slid against yours, hardly any resistance from the way your cum spread between the two of you. You felt so good against her, your nails digging into your back it was almost painful, yet she wouldn't protest, almost pitying your poor, overstimulated clit.

Your body felt so raw and used up, and somehow it felt even more good than before. The way she used your body for her own pleasure had you whining now, louder than the first time. The squelching sounds of your love-making filled both of your ears, and you could hear every soft huff of Ellie's breath matching the rhythm of her humping.

Soon, the intense overwhelming rawness left you, and you only felt bliss. Ellie seemed to follow suit, her movements growing sloppy and less purposeful. You could feel the wetness between the two of you combine, making the movements even louder.

When it was all over, the only noises were crickets and your heavy breathing. Ellie was collapsed on top of you for who knows how long, and her breath was finally evening out against your neck. She pulled herself up and sighed.

"Fuck."

You laughed at that. "Yeah. Fuck is right."

Her body fell back onto yours, her arms holding you tight. You could feel the uncomfortable feeling of sand covering one side of your body, but you didn't care.

After a while, Ellie asked something that usually would make you run away.

"You wanna maybe..go to Wyoming with me?"

You didn't offer much hesitation.

"Why not?"

[digiflora]

🏵️ ᯓ★୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐒!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ blade x poledancer!reader

request ؛ ଓ @/anon i am on my KNEES for a drabble or fic of fem or gn reader seducing blade. take full creative liberty just PLEASE

gia's notes ؛ ଓ ok this officially marks the start of my blade x the weeknd extended universe. anon thank u for this JUICY juicy prompt <3 i hope that i did it justice

word count ؛ ଓ 1.0k ( + suggestive content but nothing explicit, really unsexy description of a pole routine from yours truly, no pronouns but reader is wearing a skirt, HIGH heels and thigh garter :p )

THERE'S A NEW FACE HERE TONIGHT. near the back, dark hair and dark eyes scanning the room rather than remaining transfixed on you. that's not something you see every day. it's not just that, but it's all of his body language that makes you think that he's here for other reasons than to watch a show and maybe heckle you in hopes of getting lucky later. he's got his arms crossed against his broad chest, positioned oh so carefully to be able to survey as much of the room as possible.

you wonder who, or what exactly he's looking for as you keep doing your routine. it's a shame, you think. you'd much rather have his attention than the drunken faces hooting and hollering at you, trying to catch a glimpse up your skirt as you do a spin around the pole.

no, he's more... refined. there's an element of self-restraint to him that you rarely see here, and though it really isn't a high bar, it still draws your attention.

you wish that he would step into the light a little more. you could make out his features, just barely thanks to him being so far away and the dim lighting of the club. from what you could tell, he was handsome, all dark and brooding and serious. just your type.

here's the part where you have to focus. you tear your gaze away from the mystery man, rather regrettably, instead fixing your grip on the pole, pulling yourself off of the ground and letting your legs fan upwards as your world tilts on its axis and you're now spinning whilst upside down.

the clamoring crowd at your feet goes crazy, hooting and hollering like they always did. it was a tired routine but they were always impressed nonetheless, if the amount of bills flying at you was anything to go off of. and amidst the chaos of it all, your eyes still manage to travel past them all and meet the ruby eyes of the man stood against the back wall.

he wasn't just letting his gaze wander this time, either. he was really looking at you, all of his attention focused on your movements. a little thrill ran down your spine at this revelation, the connection between the two of you remaining unbroken even as you dismounted as the song ends.

your wish came true. his interest had been piqued.

while he may not be at your feet cheering, you still recognised that look in his eyes that he gave you. the one of lust, an underlying hunger that blazed deep and clawed its way to the surface. it draws you in, keeping you pinned in place even as you danced, and suddenly he was the only person that mattered within this entire building. suddenly, he was the only person that you were performing for.

the next song started playing, a slower one that relied more on sensuality than feats of acrobatic strength. good.

you let your fingers trail along the pole as you take sultry steps around it, finally letting your hands curl around it as you bend low, edge of your skirt brushing against the ground despite the tall heels that you wore. you roll your body upwards again, letting yourself grind against the pole, the hollering crowd distant as your gaze remains locked on him.

at the way his throat bobs as he watches your movements. the way he shifts in place as the room's temperature now feels a couple degrees higher. the way his eyes still meet yours so steadfastly.

you've definitely got his attention now.

you turn, back to the pole as you squat down again, letting your spine arch forwards as your chest meets the floor, hips remaining high. he watches you, hungrily, and you feel that electric stare of his in your core now. at this rate, you'd be leaving the pole wet.

you wouldn't mind letting him get lucky later.

and by the looks of it, he wouldn't hesitate to take you up on any offer you made him.

you're back on the pole now, just a simple pose as you do a spin first, before tucking your leg around the metal for stability and lifting off of the ground again.

more cheers from insignificant men, but what you pay attention to is how the man has pushed off from the wall now, stood up straight all while still watching you.

it gave you a little headrush seeing in real time the effect that you held over him, and you recognised the last chorus of the song, signalling that your time was almost up.

an idea pops into your head, one that deviates slightly from your regular routine.

you turn your back to the audience, glancing over your shoulder seductively as you slowly bend down, fingers trailing past the hem of your short skirt and finally hooking onto the garter you wear on your thigh.

there's cheers at your pseudo striptease, with the way you shimmy your hips more than necessary as you unclip it tantalisingly slow, letting the flimsy fabric slide down your leg until it pools on the floor.

you step out of it, another display of your ass as you bend down to pick it up, finally turning to face the audience with a grin as you twirl it around your finger.

there's men clamouring at your feet, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at their behaviour in favour of scanning the back of the crowd for him. he's there, still watching you with an imperceptible smirk at your little show.

you hoped he realised that it was just for him.

you recognised the closing notes of the song, deciding to make your exit with one final signal to the mystery man of what exactly your intentions were. you throw the garter, hoping there was enough weight to it to travel far enough to not land in the wrong hands, and that it would sail past heads before landing squarely in the man's palms.

you turn and leave before you see it happen, but when you throw back a last cursory glance, judging by his grinning face amidst a sea of disgruntled ones, you had hit your target.

you wink and blow him a kiss before disappearing offstage. your name was on the door, anyway. it wouldn't be too hard to find you.

IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... fade into you

hsr men as your soulmate, and the marks you left on them in a past life

alternatively, you can find my hsr masterlist here! ୨ৎ

[honeycrispappletree]

ON THE UNDER SIDE OF TOKYO // keiji akaashi

masterlist

PART 1: OBLIVION

" I never walk about after dark, It's my point of view

'Cause someone could break your neck, coming up behind you

Always coming and you'd never have a clue"

“UNIVERSITY OF KYOTO TAKES THE WIN FROM UTOKYO, 54-22!”

The stadium sighs in unison. Few UKyoto fans who are scattered around the stands cheer loudly. Another lost basketball game for the University of Tokyo. The exits start flooding with students, disappointed in the outcome and wanting to leave as quickly as possible. 

Yn stayed in her seat at the back of the stands and finished her report. She drags her pen across the paper, trying to fabricate some interesting way to say the UTokyo basketball team absolutely sucks, and are 0-8 for the season so far. She hates being assigned to sports. But its much better than reporting on the meal schedule. Her journalism class assignments are mundane to say the least. Losing sports, knocked over trash cans around campus, and late buses are all things she knows very well.

Yn takes her attention off of her notebook and onto the moping players. They huddle together at the end of the court, getting yelled at by their coach. She cringes at the insults coming out of his mouth. It is his job on the line, after all. Her focus shifts to one specific player being shunned by the rest of the team, number 11. Throughout the game he had been missing shots and overshooting passes. His green eyes gazed down at the wood gym floor, in what she thought would be shame, but instead it was something else. She couldn't quite place it, but he looked like he wasn't even there. Not in the moment, everything being shouted at him seemed to be going in one ear and out the other. Yn tries to find out his name, but fails and just settles for writing down his jersey number. She jots down a few notes about his appearance before shoving her notebook in her backpack and leaving the gym. 

Yn steps outside to be met with an ill omen, the sunset. A warning to hurry home, she quickens her pace as she heads to her dorm. Although her university campus is deemed as protected, she can't help but be skeptical. A few months ago, a guy she slightly knew from one of her classes went missing on campus. He just vanished from school without a trace. Some people thought he was kidnapped, but police never really entertained the idea. Everyone just assumed he must have dropped out. Nobody ever heard from him again. She shudders at the eerie reminder of her exposure. It reminds her of the stories her older brother used to scare her with. How sinister things happen at night, people wander in the subways and look at you strange, and if you ever walk alone you'll go missing. She followed his directions blindly as a child, but as she got older she realized they were dramatized tales. Now though, she wonders if there was any truth to it. Yn shakes her head, not wanting to think about this kind of thing as she's traveling in the dark. Almost to her dorm, she takes a left and passes a utility pole scattered with advertisements and stickers. School clubs, basement shows,missing people, campus elections…

Missing people.

Yn backtracks to the pole to check what her eyes were telling her. She in fact finds a missing person poster, pinned front and center. A girl about her age is staring right into her eyes. Something about it makes her feel sick to her stomach. The girl's smile is innocent and unknowing. She's frozen in time and has no idea what's happened to her. Yn studies the page closer.

Alisa Haiba. Her eyes are green and her hair is a muted shade of blonde. She's pretty. Too pretty to be missing. Yn notices at the bottom of the page a phone number of someone named Lev Haiba, and to call them with any information of Alisa’s whereabouts.

‘Odd,’ she thinks to herself, ‘wouldn't you call the police with something like this?’.

Although thousands of people go missing in Japan every year, something feels different about her. Yn can almost feel her asking for help. An unsettling feeling is creeping up her shoulders and neck as she stares at the printed page. The sun is no longer visible and there is only a tint of brightness in the night sky. Torn, yn decides to rip the poster down and shove it in her notebook. She doesn't really know what she's supposed to do, but she feels obligated to do something. 

She whips her head around to check if anyone is nearby, and books it for her dorm. She makes sure the blinds are closed and the door is locked before slumping on her bed and pulling out her phone.

more!

akaashi and yn became friends in high school after becoming the co editors of their yearbook and running the school paper

very ambitious those two they both want to be succesful journalists

they work together well but are both very competitive towards each other

their professor gives them very lame stories and tears them to shreds when they arent interesting

yn's brother used to scare her with all the stories and she grew up and figured he was lying, but she isnt too sure about that recently

Utokyo has MISERABLE sports most of the time and yn is always put on basketball

her least favorite

Alisa was last seen entering the subway before dusk

taglist: none yet, reply or message to be added!

a/n: FIRST CHAPTER gang i cant write for actual shit im so sorry but i had fun anyway its fine im just better at my little text messages. im trying to make this ominous but like also funny but also sad and angsty but also cute but also everything at the same time ok Bye also the poster was supposed to be a png but it didn’t freaking work now it just looks DUMB

[justalost4girl]

Three

word count: 3323 one two

Luke's POV

Luke stared at the phone with a growing sense of discomfort as he tried to distract himself from the smiles of the lovers before him. The previous night had been strange, with Alex calling and arranging everything with meticulous precision. The plan seemed simple: make Natasha believe they had an important meeting while he would go out to meet Alex.

Knowing he would have to kill Natasha, Luke was consumed by a mix of fear and guilt. The knowledge of this obligation troubled him throughout the day, and despite the crushing weight of the decision, he decided to let Natasha and Newton enjoy themselves as much as possible, as a final indulgence.

He watched the two of you leave hand in hand and sighed, going back into the room and opening a bottle of whiskey while waiting for a signal from Alex. Memories of the early days of his life flooded his mind: when he was just Luke, your best friend, the kid you annoyingly clung to because he had the same name as your favorite Jedi, the son, the father, the brother, and everything he always wanted to be. A good man, God forgive him, and may you forgive him as well.

Before sunset, the phone rang, and he had to focus to find Alex. During dinner, Luke's nervousness was at its peak. He wondered if he would ever be like Alex and have the stomach to patiently cut the meat while planning an execution. Alex seemed to sense the tension in the air and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Do you know how you're going to do it? What's your plan for them?" he asked seriously and without expression.

"‘What do you mean, them?’ Luke asked, almost choking on his food and looking incredulously at Alex.

Alex, with a cold and distant smile, replied, ‘Luke, you need to understand. For this to seem real, you have to be fully committed. Natasha and… the other one, your friend. You know what needs to be done.’

Alex's words were a harsh blow to Luke.

‘I… understand,’ Luke murmured, his voice laden with tension. ‘I’ll do what needs to be done.’

‘The Agency suggested an accident,’ Alex said, looking deeply into Luke's eyes. ‘A car crash, quick and painless. The same old excuse—drunk driver who fled the scene and so on. We have eyes on the police, and within a week, no one will remember the accident. My method involves a gun and two clean shots,’ Alex added, ‘or three if necessary.’

With a tense nod, Luke turned back to his plate, the weight of the decision crushing his shoulders. Alongside the fear and guilt, he knew he was about to make an irreversible decision, and there was no turning back.

Luke sat in his room, holding the photo you had given him some time ago. Tears welled up in his eyes as he silently apologized for what he was about to do. He took the laptop and opened the email he had saved—a letter he had written to you, meant to be delivered when he traveled. It was a formal apology, saying he would always be there for you and that you shouldn't be surprised when he left. An apology for bringing Romanoff into your life.

As he read his own words, Luke made a difficult decision. He knew he had gone too far and hurt someone innocent who had nothing to do with these organizations. Instead, he decided to attach the folder he had been compiling from the beginning to the email, containing all the evidence he had gathered against Hydra. He knew that if you joined forces with Natasha, you could dismantle Hydra together.

He scheduled the email to be sent to both your address and Natasha's, closed the laptop, and took one last glass of his favorite whiskey while saying goodbye to the starry city sky."

-- The rain has stopped falling on your head, but it continues on the pavement. But you were on the pavement, and now you're not. Nothing makes sense. You blink several times, trying to focus your vision. Everything looks blurry, and your head is pounding. You look at your hands—they seem like your hands. There's a car against a pole a few meters away from you. "I'm sorry for bringing her into your life." The words echo in your mind, confusing. Where is Natasha? She was in front of you. A moment ago, you were at the restaurant, so why does your stomach hurt?

Did she say she loved you?

Your heart races. You taste the metallic tang of blood in your mouth and realize you bit your lip too hard. You try to stand, but your legs are trembling. Everything is shaking and wet. Your thoughts are scrambled, and everything around you is spinning. You call out for Nat, but your voice comes out weak and trembling. Every second feels like an eternity as you struggle to understand what happened and why Luke's car hasn't moved from its place against the pole.

Nat appears in your field of vision, wet and radiant. How can someone look so beautiful in the rain? She seems serious on the phone, murmuring words you can barely understand before rolling her eyes and hanging up. Is she… speaking Russian? Since when does Nat speak Russian?

She gently holds your chin and whispers, "Love, look at me, okay? Just at me, it'll be okay, I'm here. Breathe."

There's a clear worry in her eyes, a tension that wasn't there at the restaurant. You furrow your brow, trying to focus as you watch her. Natasha always smiles when she talks to you, but now her lips are tense, and you miss that familiar curve.

Her fingers snap in front of you, grabbing your attention. "Newton, are you listening to me? Look at me, say something, please. It's me, your Nat, I'm here, okay?" She caresses your face and pulls you into her chest.

You hear her heartbeat, and it calms you, helps you ground yourself.

Gradually, you begin to remember the last minutes: Luke’s message, Natasha saying she loves you, his car coming towards you, and his body in the vehicle. Luke is dead.

You cry uncontrollably in Natasha’s arms, her embrace anchoring you as her heartbeat offers a familiar comfort. You don’t understand why Luke would do something like this. Drinking and driving were things he always warned you to avoid. He warned you and will never be able to do so again.

Luke is dead, and it takes you a week to say anything. You follow Natasha as she takes care of everything you should have been doing. Luke’s body hasn’t even cooled yet, and Luthor Corp is already publicly accused of selling sensitive client data to a pharmaceutical company. You don’t pay attention to the details, as you spend most of the week sleeping or crying in the hotel room, avoiding the press and listening to Natasha talk about body transport. Sometimes, she murmurs in Russian during a late-night meeting and comes to your room whenever she can.

The flight was finally booked, Natasha announced. A mix of relief and sadness enveloped you as you began to pack your things. The process of packing your suitcase had turned into a ritual of farewell, a blend of acceptance and sorrow. One suitcase should have been enough, but suddenly, you found yourself dealing with more than you had anticipated: Luke’s suitcase, his personal computer, and clothes that now seemed like mere mementos of a life that had changed drastically.

You were exhausted, the fatigue showing in every movement, but you continued because Natasha was already overwhelmed. The days following the fateful night had been a whirlwind of emotions, and now, with your open suitcases and the clothes that needed folding, reality felt even heavier.

You picked up Luke’s computer and carefully placed it in your suitcase. The idea of using the computer to track your lost cell phone had appeared as a glimmer of hope. The phone had vanished the night of the accident, and its location was a mystery you were determined to solve. Not that you hated what Natasha had given you; in fact, the gesture had been more than generous, but there was something deeper you needed to understand and resolve.

The computer was a key piece, a connection to Luke’s life and what he had left behind. It was a way to find some order amidst the chaos, to connect the dots and understand what had really happened. It was a way to try to make sense of it all.

Natasha’s phone rings for the fourth time that day, and, as with the others, she ignores it. The fall of Luthor Corp brought unexpected relief but also a void of uncertainties. Natasha has taken on the role of guardian and protector, offering not only safety but also the emotional support needed. She has been congratulated by all the agents at the agency, but she avoids the boss, knowing that Nick Fury would not support her plans to keep you by her side.

Abandoning you after your friend sacrificed himself to keep both of you safe is inconceivable to Natasha. However, she can’t prove that Luke sent the folder with evidence to the only email she still had access to on his own accord. She sees you sitting across from her, and her heart races. After the return trip, you became a bit more receptive, vulnerable and Natasha wouldn’t give that up for anything.

Seeing you cry as you got off the plane was an emotional blow for Natasha. The rain falling seemed like a reflection of your inner state, and she knew it had been a trigger for you, evoking painful memories of that night. The sound of the rain and the sight of the overcast sky brought the weight of the past back with intensity, and the only thing that calmed you was the sensation of her heartbeat.

From that moment on, Natasha made a silent promise to herself: never to give up on orbiting by your side for the time they still had available. It was a promise of support, of constant presence, even amidst pain and confusion. The weight of the decision to hide your phone that night continued to trouble her. She almost felt guilty for taking that action, considering how much it meant to you. However, the truth was that if she hadn’t hidden your phone, her disguise would have been uncovered.

The restaurant seems crowded, but Natasha knows there are agents watching. This terrifies her, but as she feels your hand touch hers, she wishes, for a moment, to forget the world and lose herself in the way your hair falls on your face and how your hands are still soft despite you spending the day typing.

She squeezes your hand across the table and smiles at your smile. ‘Can I ask you something?’ She notices the tension in your voice and gestures patiently, encouraging you to continue.

‘Do you love me? Like, really love me, not just to keep me by your side or something like that. Do you truly love me, Nat?’ You ask, your voice trembling with emotion, and Natasha realizes she doesn’t like that tone. She squeezes your hand again to make you look at her.

‘I love you, Newton. From the heart and on purpose. In some parallel universe, there’s a version of me that misses a part of herself because she never met you,’ she says sincerely. She has learned to love you and wants you to know that.

‘You wouldn’t lie to me about this, would you?’ You lean in and return the gentle squeeze of her hand, your doubts crawling in the back of your mind.

‘Never, not about this,’ she responds, and immediately regrets it as the phrase implies she might have lied at other times. But before she can explain, you lean back with a half-smile and ask for the check.

A message from Nick Fury alerts Natasha about a meeting the next morning, and she decides to open a bottle of wine to spend the night with you. The mood seems lighter and more relaxed, and you share a soft conversation as you draw closer. The night progresses, and as you enter the room, Natasha pulls you into a passionate kiss.

While giving in to the moment, Natasha feels that something is different. There’s an intensity in you that she can’t explain, an energy that seems out of the ordinary. She tries to ignore these feelings, immersing herself in the kiss and the caresses, seeking comfort and closeness. The touch is familiar, but the emotional connection feels different this time.

Despite the strange feeling, Natasha allows herself to be lost, ignoring the unease that disturbs her. Her thoughts clear with the sensation of your lips on her skin. She feels a sense of calm washing over her, her muscles begin to relax, and the world seems to fade around, her focus on the warmth of your touch.

You continue to kiss her neck softly, your lips grazing her soft skin. She lets out a sigh, a slight shiver running down her spine, your touch causing her to melt into it. As you continue, you can feel her body pressing slightly closer to you, her hand grasping the hem of your shirt.

Your lips continue to move up her neck to kiss her jawline, her skin warm beneath your touch. She sighs and tilts her head, giving you more access. Your fingers gently cup her cheek, and you can feel her lean into your palm. You can hear her heartbeat beginning to quicken as your touch continues.

You move away from her neck and look into her eyes, seeing the dazed and wanting look in them. You give her a smirk before your kisses move down her collarbone and to her chest. She lets out a shaky breath, her fingers going to your hair, gently pushing your head further down.

The night passes, the hours melting away as passion and desire take over. You and Natasha spend the evening in each other’s arms, losing yourselves in each other’s touches and kisses. The rest of the world outside the room seems to disappear, the only thing that matters being each other’s presence.

Natasha wished she had looked at you a little longer

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Four months ago - SHIELD headquarters

Nick Fury looked at Natasha with a stern expression. The environment around them was somber, with the office lights casting heavy shadows on the walls, reflecting the weight of the conversation about to unfold. The room was silent except for the distant sounds of keyboards and the murmurs of other agents working out of sight.

Fury sat behind an imposing desk, his posture rigid and his piercing gaze fixed on Natasha. He knew what he was about to say wouldn’t be well received, but there was no other choice. He had to be direct.

“Romanoff,” Fury began, his voice cold and relentless, “the mission is over. You need to end it now.” The words were like a sentence, laden with authority and a tone that allowed no discussion.

Natasha stood tall, trying to maintain a façade of firmness, but her heart sank with the weight of Fury’s words. She was aware that Hydra had been hit, but leaving you was difficult.

“She still needs me, Fury,” Natasha argued, her voice revealing a hint of desperation. “I can’t just disappear. It will cause more harm than good. She only has me.”

Fury shook his head slowly, his expression unchanged, as if the decision was beyond Natasha’s reach. “Collateral damage, you don’t have a choice,” he said, his voice as unyielding as a rock. “If you don’t end the mission, I’ll make sure she discovers the whole truth. That you approached her only because of the mission. That you killed her boss and hacked everything within your reach.”

Natasha felt a chill run down her spine. The idea of losing everything she had built over the past few months was almost unbearable. She knew Fury was right; he had the authority to do this and was known for following through on his threats.

"You don’t understand," Natasha tried to explain, her voice a little quieter but laden with emotion. "I… I didn’t do this just because of the mission. I care about her. And now, this is much more complicated than any operation."

Fury looked at Natasha with a mix of skepticism and resolve. "Complicated or not, the mission has rules, and those rules must be followed. And you know that by breaking them, you’re risking not only the mission but also her safety."

Natasha felt the pressure mounting, her mind racing as she tried to find a solution. "Give me more time," she pleaded, her tone now more desperate. "I can fix this without her finding out the truth."

"I’ve already waited long enough," Fury replied with a firmness that left no room for negotiation. "Your mission is to end it now. And if you don’t, I’ll have to intervene. I don’t want to do that, Natasha, but I won’t let personal interests interfere with SHIELD’s security and objectives."

Those words hit Natasha like a punch to the gut. She knew Fury was committed to enforcing the rules and that his threats were not empty. The weight of the decision hit her with full force, and she began to consider the pain you would feel if you found out.

Natasha Romanoff hated herself a little more now.

With a defeated sigh, Natasha nodded and started walking toward the door. She knew she needed to follow orders, even if it meant facing the end of something precious to her. But as she took the first step, her gaze met Fury’s once more. He looked almost sad, as if he understood the gravity of the situation but also comprehended the need to move forward.

"Go home and do what’s necessary to end this cleanly; I’ll get you a week," Fury concluded, his voice softening slightly but still firm. "And remember, Natasha, work comes first."

With those words, Natasha left the room, her heart heavy and her mind tumultuous. She knew that the task ahead would be one of the hardest of her career, but loyalty to the mission and to SHIELD had to prevail. She needed to find a way to protect you, even if it meant breaking her own heart.

Natasha felt a lump form in her throat. Fury’s words were a painful blow, but the reality was even harsher. She didn’t want you to know that her love had started as a mission, that her intentions, at first, were not pure.

The tension grew in her chest as she drove back to the apartment she shared with you. The conversation with Fury echoed in her mind, and she knew that any action would break both your hearts. She parked the car and entered the elevator, her legs almost faltering with each step. The journey home seemed endless, and the weight of the lie was crushing her. She was determined to make the seven days count, but she didn’t want to face the end of you both.

Natasha walked toward the bedroom, absorbing the touch of each part of the apartment that had until now been merely standard to make you interested in her. Your sandals at the door, thematic keychains that complemented hers, your scent in the house—everything was overwhelming.

When she opened the door, what she saw made her heart stop for a moment. You were sitting on the bed, Luke's laptop open on your lap, an unreadable expression in your eyes as you stared into the depths of her soul. The room was silent, except for the sound of your heavy breathing and the dim light illuminating your tense face.

___________________

Part 4 comes out this week. Comments are appreciated :)

taglist: : @langedelalune @esposadejoyhuerta @scarlettbitchx

[literallys-illiteracy]

EGO-Less Mirror Dungeon Abnormalities:

Well now this is 1 tenth off of my to-do List, theres still over forty left im pretty sure

Resident of metropolaris

Highway devotee

Spider of Marrige

KQE-1j-23

Wandering Mind

Resident of Metropolaris:

The only other major thing to note is the “Polaris” section, with Polaris being the north star, or the stationary star directly towards the North Pole.

Metropolis on its own is a word used to refer to the largest or most important city in an area or country.

--

I will be quite frank, reading through this abnormalities event the first time I couldn’t gain anything from the thematic, mostly thinking “huh that was weird” and moving on.

On hearing the suggestion that this abnormality was based on the novel “Metropolis” which I had read a long time ago and could not remember in detail, I became more intrigued in this abnormality before promptly forgetting about it entirely.

For the record I chose which abnormalities I analyse via a random number generator, with 4 random numbers, and then one of choice — I did not choose this abnormality in particular, mostly as a didn’t want to re read metropolis. Maybe if I do go back to read it one day, I will also return to this abnormality, but both of those are unlikely considering the size of my reading list.

Primarily, the theme of this abnormality relates back to the city itself, relating back to the taboo’s of the nests acting to “protect” those within their care, with the citizen stating “If nobody can touch each other, then nobody can hurt each other”

Though the taboo’s of the nests, and the rules of the city at large, may seem strange and absurd to outsiders, akin to the odd rules of this Metropolaris, following the rules of the city, though risking the seemingly painful repercussions of breaking the taboos, with the citizen itself stating that it hurts, it is far better than living outside the organised structure of the city.

Now onto my conjecture regarding the novel and film Metropolis and its possible relations:

in this story, the metropolis is a technologically advanced city, seemingly perfect, yet fuelled by the slave labour of a hidden lower class — The link to the city itself may be drawn, being fuelled by the unseen suffering of those deemed less valuable, however it is more so that both cities are a criticism of Capitalism as a whole.

The more important link to the novel is in the ending, with the statement that "There can be no understanding between the hands and the brain unless the heart acts as mediator." potentially relating to the taboo of the citizens not seeing or touching each other, and this, never reaching an understanding, the linking of the lower and upper classes can never be made without the joining of their hands, however if the workers remain out of sight, fall silent, it is as if there was never any suffering in the first place.

Highway Devotee

Potentially related to the abnormality released in the next dungeon set, as both this and “explorer on a bereaved Road” seem to share a thematic, however we will discuss that at a later date.

I personally believe that this abnormality relates back to he concept of being stuck in a position in your life, which is oddly enough the exact thematic that The King In Binds uses — Milepost is a term often used for an achievement, similar to milestone. The name “Milepost of Survival” seems to invoke the concept of someone living their life, reaching a crossroad as they travel, a marking point for how long they have survived.

The Main road will block you in, trap you in a stagnant, singular role for what seems like an eternity, who knows when the next time you will come upon a crossroad like this one, Its Longer Than You Think.

The Alternative, the byway, represents taking a shortcut in life, cheating to gain a position, an action which the gods of… Traffic, will not look kindly on.

Spider of Marriage:

This Abnormality is about toxicity in marriage. That is clear to even those who have no media literacy. The married couple is stitched together, trapped in this nest by the brambles of the celebratory flowers. The couple, being stitched together, is constantly losing blood, needing to suffer in order to hold themselves, and by extension each other, up and moving.

The literary reference is me thinking constantly that this joke is funny: The EGO gift that is given by this abnormality is named “Prejudice” and is a pride affinity EGO gift. Pride and Prejudice is a novel by the author Jane Austen, published in 1813-

A large portion of the novel focuses around the conventions of marriage at the time, being that many marries are not borne out of love, not from the heart, but rather the wallet.

While I do think the reference within the EGO gift to be intentional, I do not believe that the abnormality itself is directly inspired by the theme within the novel.

All together, this abnormality is quite simple, acting as a very direct and obvious message towards the conventions of marriage and the expectation to remain with a partner for life, while also acting as a metaphor for marriage as a while, healthy nor not, with the couple’s reliance on one another in order to survive at all.

KQE-ij-23:

If you are unaware, this abnormalities code is O-06-20-02, in Lobotomy Corporation, the code for the abnormality “Nothing There” is O-06-20.

What does this mean? I dont fucking know???

My best bet at a linkage between these two is the fact that this abnormality seems to be partially a human, or rather, this abnormality is a robot which has been designed as a human? Maybe the other way round?

The opening lines establish that it seems to be leaking blood, rather than oil or antifreeze like a robot would; The [Hello] Option gives the line “in its movements you feel a plea for help”, but this isn’t brought back up at any point in the encounter nor logs again?; The Terminal on its chest, alongside the original two lines being [Hello] and [Goodbye], could be linked to the hole in NT-’s third phase where the lines match while having a hole in its chest?

The final major link to Nothing There is the fact that it says it appears to be “Incomplete”, akin to the way in which Nothing There will never become a human, and is thus always incomplete, simply being a shell undergoing its rote programming and basic observations of humans (wait hold on).

Okay I wrote that last part and had somewhat of an epiphany regarding this theory, the link between the incomplete nature of the machine and the endlessly seeking nature of the Tour Guide, with the Tour guide’s event claiming to have an “administrator”, which has left it incomplete — This is/Was the only Abnormality to have the keyword “Mechanical Amalgam”, linking back to this “Incomplete nature” and reliance on what it has been programmed to do, it is possible that, even if not directly linked to Nothing There, it is almost certainly of the same ilk relating to the theme of being an “Incomplete Human”.

O-04-84 is the Abnormality code of Meat Lantern in Lobotomy Corporation; F-04-21-03 is the Abnormality code of Faelantern in Limbus Company — Limbus Company uses a different abnormality classification system to Lobotomy Corporation. Even Aberrations dont share the same code across games, meaning that my statement about KQE being of the same ilk but not directly related is almost certain, and as we all know, I am never wrong (not legally binding).

Wandering Mind:

So, Starting off with the abnormality’s EGO gifts this time: Phantom Pain is the sensation of feeling pain from a non existent, amputated body part, most commonly Limbs.

Mirror Touch (touch is basically the same word as tactile) Synesthesia is a phenomenon where, upon observing another person, may feel the same or a similar sensation on an area of their body (E.g., Seeing someone touch their cheek and feeling a sensation in your own cheek) — This condition may be acquired following amputation due to sensory loss.

. Finally, the name of the abnormality itself: a “wandering Mind” is often used as a term for when one has thoughts unrelated to, nor produced by, current tasks or stimuli.

Both EGO gifts have names referencing tactile hallucinations, both of which may often be related to amputation, which is fitting due to the lack of arms in the abnormality itself.

This Abnormality is also, in some way shape or form, is linked to Cathy, as the EGO gift “Handheld Mirror” requires the latter EGO gift to create, and as the form of “Every Catherine” is similarly grey and arm-less in appearance.

The opening lines of this encounter are vague, relating to the concept of a wandering mind, settling within this shell of a human.

A mind never occupied in the present, only wandering, wondering what could have been, blindly reaches out to touch anything with its illusory hands.

Attempting to reach out to it, to grab its hand, reveals these hands to be an illusion, to be “Something that should not have been made visible”- a fact that the Abnormality seems to know — Recoiling after this, it turns into a small statue, the Gift “Phantom Pain”, lacking the small orb which hovered in the chest of the abnormality.

I want to note the imagery of a black hole that has been used within this abnormalities artwork, the event horizon centring the torso, the Singularity being placed where the heart would be.

The concept of Phantom pain, in this abnormality, may not specifically relate to the phantom hands, but rather the heart, the hurting from what is no longer there, the hole in the place of the heart acting to draw everything in, to consume, only to realise that it no longer has any means nor motive to do so.

Once again we are able to relate this abnormality to Catherine, or rather to Heathcliff, no longer having a reason to hurt, feeling empty as they have lost their heart.

[frostfires-blog]

Traditional Symbolism in Jujutsu Kaisen Opening 4 - Specialz

[⚠️Warning: Possible small spoilers⚠️]

Hata-jirushi (旗印)

The white banners seen in the background of this scene are most likely Hata-jirushi (旗印). Hata-jirushi were the most commonly used war banners on medieval Japanese battlefields. The kanji used here “旗印” literally translates to “symbol flag”, “marker banner”, etc.… These war banners were generally simple streamers attached by a horizontal cross-piece to a shaft, unlike the later used nobori (幟) which were stiffened. Later, some hata-jirushi were hemmed on their sides and tops to better attach them to their poles in such a way that they were visible from the front. The purpose of these banners was to help identify and distinguish different army sections and regiments.  The use of them in this scene helps to set the tone of this arc which is essentially the start of a war between jujutsu sorcerers and cursed spirits.

Torii (鳥居)

In this panel, several characters are seen passing through a torii (鳥居). A torii is a traditional Japanese gate mostly found at the entrance of and within Shinto shrines. Torii gates are where kami are thought to travel through and are welcomed to the shrine. It is customary to walk to the side of a torii gate when passing through instead of walking down the center—as it is believed that only kami may pass through the center. The word torii derives from the term “tōri-iru” (通り入る) which roughly translates to “pass through and enter”. These structures mark the transition between the mundane, secular world and the sacred grounds of the shrine. Thus, passing through a torii gate can be thought of as “crossing into another dimension or entering into spiritual communion with nature”. Torii gates act as both a physical barrier and spiritual guardian separating the profane from the sacred within its boundaries. Therefore, it is believed that those who pass through one, are cleansed of their worldly worries and enter a realm of tranquillity and peace. Aside from their religious significance, torii gates hold other more abstract meanings such as providing good fortune, hope, purity, and protection from evil spirits. In this panel, as the characters pass underneath the torii it signifies their crossing from the physical to the spiritual world—which could refer to them traveling down the path to enlightenment or death. Since torii are also believed to provide good fortune and protection from evil spirits, the characters passing under one could be a sort of send-off ritual before the battle to ensure their safety.

Ōnusa (大幣)

In addition to more hata-jirushi, we can see an ōnusa (大幣)—also known as a nusa (幣) or a Taima (大幣)—a wooden wand used in traditional Shinto purification rituals in this panel. Ōnusa are embellished with shide (paper streamers). The wand is also referred to as a  (祓串) when the shide are connected to a hexagonal or octagonal staff. It is believed that impurities are transferred from the person or thing to be purified to the ōnusa by waving the ōnusa left, right, then left again. The usage of them in this scene adds to the traditional imagery and the idea that something significant is about to happen that will require the characters to purify their minds and steel their resolve.

Nokotsudo (納骨堂)

In this scene, Itadori is seen standing in front of a nokotsudo (納骨堂) which is a Japanese ossuary. A nokotsudo is known as a “nokotsuden” or “reido” and is a building in which the remains of cremation are kept. Nokotsudo are generally built in the precincts of temples and are equipped with lockers to keep the remains and are occasionally equipped with Buddhist altars above these lockers to place Buddhist mortuary tablets. This scene portrays Itadori breaking down in front of a nokotsudo. This could either refer to him facing the ashes of the people Sukuna killed using his body—or perhaps more improbably the scene depicts him being confronted with the fact that his grandfather's wish has inadvertently led him down this troubled path.

Joss paper (金紙)

The rounded pieces of paper falling from the sky in this scene are likely pieces of joss paper (金紙). These are typically sheets of paper or papercrafts which are used as burnt offerings in ancestral worship as well as the veneration of deceased relatives on special holidays in Asia. Joss paper is typically printed with various representations of worldly goods such as money, houses, cars, credit cards, etc.… Joss paper is burnt at Asian funerals “to ensure that the deceased’s spirit has sufficient means in the afterlife”. In wuxia and xianxia C-dramas, joss paper is often seen falling from the scene during scenes in which the reanimated and ghostly beings invade the world of the living—which is somewhat similar to the setting in this scene with Megumi meeting his reanimated father. Additionally, it was partly Toji's pursuit of money that led to his death, taking him away from his son, so it is somewhat ironic to have joss paper raining down on him.

[P.S. A few people have been analysing this opening on other platforms, but I wanted to touch on some of the more obscure cultural nuances... I am not Japanese, so this is based off of my own research, so I apologise if I miss anything or get anything wrong. Feel free to make corrections or additions in the comments and reblogs respectively.]

[mysticwolfshadows]

Taken - Zutara - Part 13

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Katara found her life shifting to fit a new routine. Zuko would come to the South Pole every two to three months. While Katara healed the injured soldiers, Zuko and Iroh met with her father and Bato, and the Earth Kingdom supplies were traded for the few things they had an overflow of.

She realized that some of the supplies from the Earth Kingdom were metals forged into spear heads and arrow tips. Hunts became easier, with more deadly equipment able to fell wild tiger moose and arctic caribou in only a few shots, rather than a slow trailing hunt. For once, they had enough to breath.

Its in the evening, as they feast and celebrate, Zuko tells Katara about his travels. Sokka hovers each night, supposedly still wary of the prince, but Katara has a feeling he just wants to hear about the rest of the world too. Zuko had traveled a fair amount, but was restricted to Fire Nation friendly ports, while also avoiding selling the Southern goods at towns controlled by the Fire Nation. Mostly, he got around it by traveling further inland from Fire Nation ports that wouldn't look to closely at his cargo.

Zuko had been to a small town called Gaipon, where he had sold some lamp oil in exchange for some berry wine and a few crafted spear heads. In a somewhat large city called Goa Ling, he and the soldiers had donned Earth Kingdom disguises, selling the rest of the lamp oil and the crate of arctic crab that the nobles in the area went crazy for. Kyoshi Island was closer to the South, but isolated and rarely went off the island, so they took an interest in anything Zuko had left over on his way back, once they deemed him not a threat.

Before Katara knew it, it had been nearly a year and a half since she had returned home. She vaguely realized that she had missed Zuko's 14th birthday, and that his 15th was close. She mused the thought aloud at dinner one night, and her parents seemed intrigued.

The next time Zuko returned, she met up with him to find the Fire Nation Prince stumbling out of a tent, traditional Southern Water Tribe blue covering him. His face was bright red, his hair redone in a version of a Southern Warriors wolf tail. He seemed embarrassed as he shifted around, hands fisted in gloves at his sides.

"Sorry Katara," her father said as he came out of the tent, a firm hand placed on the back of Zuko's neck, the way she'd seen him do to Sokka when her brother wasn't to keen on following orders. "But Prince Zuko will be spending the day with us."

Before she could get any answers, her father was leading a grumbling firebender to the village wall, joining with Bato and a pair of boys that had just turned fourteen. She wondered what could possibly be going on, and went to Iroh for answers. Of course, the man was good at keeping secrets, and somehow pulled her into a game of Pai Sho. They played for hours, Katara's mind drifting to what her father and Bato could possibly be doing, only for Iroh or soldiers to distract her.

When they finally returned, Zuko was wide eyed and laughing, as if shocked by his own delight. He and the two other boys were dragging a large Arctic caribou behind them. Across each brow was a mark of the tribe. When Katara got close enough, she saw the mark of the trusted painted across Zuko's brow.

"You took him hunting?" Katara snapped at her father. "And ice dodging? Dad! That's so dangerous! Zuko didn't grow up in the South! He could have been seriously hurt!"

"It's fine," her father said, placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her. He turned, and Katara followed his gaze to where more of the older boys were gathering around Zuko, laughing as they seemed to share stories of ice dodging and first hunts. "Zuko has earned a place in the tribe. He has done us a great service, returning you, and helped us still since then." He paused. "He has become someone the tribe can rely on."

Katara watched her friend as a young warrior, a boy who had joined the warrior ranks two years ago, gave Zuko a joking shove. Zuko, despite his momentary scowl, shoved back in a similar manner, setting the warrior into howls of laughter. For the first time in what seemed like years, Zuko seemed almost at ease.

When he looked at her, he smiled, lifting his hand in an awkward wave. She lifted her own hand to do the same, only for someone to say something to Zuko that got his face flaming red and start wrestling in the snow. It quickly devolved into a free for all, all in good fun.

Katara watched on, wishing that Zuko would stay, let himself be happy here in the tribe, where he felt free enough to laugh so openly. But she knew, come morning, he would be off once again, chasing a ghost.

First / Previous / Next / Masterpost

[racefortheironthrone]

How would the food supply chain work for city states in in places like Ancient Greece and more recently, the Italian City States? Would they control agricultural land, or would they have to buy food from nearby (or perhaps not so nearby) agricultural regions? What measures would they take in times of war to avoid having their food supply cut off?

Great question!

To answer "How would the food supply chain work for city states," I would answer by answering your other question "Would they control agricultural land, or would they have to buy food from nearby (or perhaps not so nearby) agricultural regions?" by saying: it's both.

Paradigmatically, a city-state consists of a metropole (the city in question) and the periphery (subordinated lands and territories under the city's control). (Or metropolis and hinterland, if you prefer). To further break this down, the periphery consists of a mix of different lands, including both overseas colonies and tributaries, conquered (and thus lesser and weaker) city-states and their peripheries, and the agricultural hinterland around the metropole. To take just this last category, we can think of the relationship between Athens and Attica, Rome and Latium, Venice and the Mestre and Veneto (everyone always focuses on Venice's overseas empire, but it's rarely remembered that Venice at its height basically controlled all of northeastern Italy and fought Milan for northcentral and parts of northwestern Italy), or Florence and (eventually all of) Tuscany.

How far that agricultural hinterland extended beyond the city's walls depended a lot on transportation technology. Brett Devereaux has very good (but lengthy) explanations of the difficulties of overland grain trade here and here, but the TLDR is that, as a rough rule of thumb, "the price of grain doubles every hundred miles it is moved overland." Those kind of price increases aren't really affordable, so I think if you're looking for a rough rule of thumb, a hundred miles is probably a good maximum radius for an agricultural hinterland, whereas the minimum radius is probably around 7-12 miles (based on medieval urban regulations for agricultural markets), which was roughly how far a cart could travel in a day.

However, certain factors can change the effective radius of the hinterland:

The more and better roads you have, carts can move faster and come from more directions/places, which effectively expands that cart/day radius.

If the city is on a river (and this is one of the main reasons why most historic cities were on rivers, if they weren't on coasts), you can use river-barges to transport grain. Sail-barges could travel 14 miles an hour in good winds, and tow- or pole-barges could do 10-40 miles a day (depending on whether they were going upriver or downriver). Moreover, because of buoyancy, barges can carry much heavier loads than carts, which makes them much more eficient in transporting bulk goods like grain.

Finally, the population density and degree of urbanization matters, because it raises the possibility of making partial trips, because smaller population centers will act as local metropoles and more efficiently bring in grain from rural areas allowing for more efficient routes; also, higher density and urbanization allows for the creation of a network of granaries that allow you to store grain along the way so that you can make partial trips rather than covering the whole distance from the city to the very edge of the periphery.

However, the hinterland usually wasn't enough on its own to supply the city-state, but the same advantages of wind-speed and buoyancy also meant that a long-distance overseas grain trade was absolutely viable in both the Ancient and Medieval worlds. So for example, Greek city-states would draw on grain from southern France, southern Italy and Sicily, the Black Sea, and Anatolia; much of Rome's grain supply came from North Africa and Egypt; and so on. Moreover, as Fernand Braudel points out, the interconnected grain trade of the Mediterranean was the indispensable foundation for southern European urbanism from the Middle Ages through to the Early Modern period, and the geospatial dynamics of that system did not really change that much until the invention of the steam engine.

To answer your final question - "What measures would they take in times of war to avoid having their food supply cut off?" - it was usually by a mix of metropolis/hinterland logistics and long-distance trade. A well-organized city-state would have granaries set up both in the city and in the more urbanized areas of the periphery and would have contingency plans to harvest and transport as much grain as possible to the city to use as reserves in a time of crisis. (You'll note that this leaves the periphery in a really bad situation in times of crisis, and this prioritization of the metropole over the periphery is one of the main reasons why it sucked to be in the periphery, which is why there was so much competition over who got to be the metropole and why there were so many rebellions on the peirphery.)

At the same time, if the city-state had naval supremacy over its enemies, it could pretty much indefinitely hold out against its enemies as long as it could maintain a lifeline to the sea. This is why Athens was able to hold out against Sparta for so long during the Pelopennesian War, why Constantinople won so many of its sieges, and why Venice was able to take on most of Europe and still come out on top most of the time.

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

You just become one of my favourite tumblr accounts. Please share more shuggy headcanons

I also adore your translations nitpicking. My favourite moments are when you ask for original panels. I could read them over and over. Sorry for being creepy.

aw, thank you! that’s not creepy at all, it’s very sweet. (and i’m glad somebody enjoys my nitpicking! i’d do it regardless but still—)

here’s a couple headcanons for you, since you asked so nicely—but below the cut because, as often happens, i got wordy:

in the au where shanks gets buggy to stay with his crew, the incident that got shanks his first bounty and the incident that caused items #4 and #5 to be added to that list are the same incident. (a member of his crew getting arrested was a bit of a trigger for shanks at the time, never mind that the marines had no idea who it was they’d arrested. it’s fine, they manage to repair the building eventually. well, repair… rebuild… same difference.)

i am a “the chapter 581 cover image is a canon event” truther, even though the timing is tricky to make work. in my mind, while shanks is waiting to hear back about acquiring some land in sphinx and buggy is waiting to hear back from alvida et al about where to meet up, shanks convinces buggy to come with him into town on the island where the red force and a couple whitebeard ships that survived marineford have docked. (the impel down guys think this is for a private, elite, captain-to-captain conversation; galdino is mildly concerned buggy won't be coming back alive.) they spot the oden restaurant and its tourist-bait gift shop and buy a couple shirts and the lunch special on a nostalgic whim, and spend the afternoon getting lightly buzzed, reminiscing about the old days, and speculating about how things are going in wano. it’s nice. it’s the nicest it’s been between them in at least twenty-two years. (probably twenty-three. that last year, after the crew disbanded, was… hard, on both of them.) neither of them ever speaks of that afternoon or that meal to anyone, but when the news of shogun momonosuke comes out they each spend a subdued day thinking about it and getting a little more than buzzed.

i could be real self-indulgent and tell you about the kidfic i am doing my damnedest not to write, but i won't. unless…

in a future where the one piece is not meant for either of them and retirement, such as it is, is both possible and desired, shanks and buggy do a lot of traveling together. they visit wano and see momo and hiyori (who don’t really remember them) and meet yamato (who recognizes them instantly from oden’s journal). they visit skypeia and buggy nearly convinces someone that he’s very good friends with that monkey d luffy guy and will definitely give him that big ol’ golden pillar of yours… thankfully (?) shanks is there to stop this. they visit the north and south poles and settle that argument once and for all (though buggy will always insist shanks cheated somehow). they visit a dozen other islands they remember fondly. they visit rayleigh and get absolutely wasted together, and maybe rayleigh gives them a few leads on other surviving roger pirates and they visit them too. and once they’ve visited all of them, they visit roger’s grave—the real one, not whatever propagandist tomb the navy set up to further defame him in death. the things they say to him are best left between the three of them. and then they acquire a good map, circle every island on it they don’t recognize by name, and start visiting those. making new memories together, now that they’re done chasing down old ones.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

eROSITA survey unveils asymmetries in temperature and shape of our Local Hot Bubble

Our solar system dwells in a low-density environment called the Local Hot Bubble (LHB), filled by a tenuous, million-degree hot gas emitting dominantly in soft X-rays. A team led by scientists at the Max Planck Institute for Extraterrestrial Physics (MPE) used the eROSITA All-Sky Survey data and found a large-scale temperature gradient in this bubble, possibly linked with past supernova explosions that expanded and reheated the bubble.

The wealth of the eROSITA data also allowed the team to create a new 3D model of the hot gas in the solar neighborhood. The highlight of this work features the discovery of a new interstellar tunnel towards the constellation Centaurus, potentially joining our LHB with a neighboring superbubble. The research is published in the journal Astronomy & Astrophysics.

The idea of the LHB has been around for about half a century, first developed to explain the ubiquitous X-ray background below 0.2 keV. Photons of such energies cannot travel very far in the interstellar medium before they are absorbed. In conjunction with the observation that there is almost no interstellar dust in our immediate environment, the scenario where a soft X-ray emitting plasma displaces the neutral materials in the solar neighborhood, forming the "Local Hot Bubble," was put forth.

This understanding of our immediate environment was not without its challenges, especially after the discovery of the solar wind charge exchange process in 1996—an interaction between the solar wind ions and neutral atoms within the Earth's geocorona and the heliosphere that emits X-rays at similar energies as the LHB. After years of analysis, the consensus now is that both contribute to the soft X-ray background, and the LHB must exist to explain the observations.

The eROSITA telescope is the first X-ray observatory to observe the sky from an orbit completely external to the Earth's geocorona, avoiding the latter's contamination. Also, the timing of the first eROSITA All-Sky Survey (eRASS1) coincided with the solar minimum, significantly reducing the heliospheric solar wind charge exchange contamination.

"In other words, the eRASS1 data released to the public this year provides the cleanest view of the X-ray sky to date, making it the perfect instrument for studying the LHB," says Michael Yeung from MPE, the lead author of this work.

eROSITA's unparalleled X-ray observations

The team divided the western Galactic hemisphere into about 2,000 regions and extracted and analyzed the spectra from each one. They also leveraged data from ROSAT, the predecessor of eROSITA built also by MPE, which complements the eROSITA spectra at energies lower than 0.2 keV.

They found a clear temperature dichotomy in the LHB, with the Galactic South (0.12 keV; 1.4 MK) slightly hotter than the Galactic North (0.10 keV; 1.2 MK). This feature could be explained by the latest numerical simulations of the LHB caused by supernova explosions in the last few million years.

Diffuse X-ray background spectra inform scientists not just of the temperature but also of the 3D structure of the hot gas. Previous work by the same team has established that the density of the LHB is relatively uniform, calibrating the density of the hot gas with sight lines to giant molecular clouds located on the surface of the LHB.

Relying on this assumption, they generated a new 3D model of the LHB from the measured intensity of the LHB emission in each sight line. They found the LHB has a larger extent towards the Galactic poles as expected, as the hot gas prefers to expand towards directions of the least resistance, away from the Galactic disk.

"This is not surprising, as was already found by the ROSAT survey," pointed out by Michael Freyberg, a core author of this work who was also a part of the pioneering work in the ROSAT era three decades ago.

"What we didn't know was the existence of an interstellar tunnel towards Centaurus, which carves a gap in the cooler interstellar medium (ISM). This region stands out in stark relief thanks to the much-improved sensitivity of eROSITA and a vastly different surveying strategy compared to ROSAT," added Freyberg.

The authors of this work suggest the Centaurus tunnel may just be a local example of a wider hot ISM network sustained by stellar feedback across the galaxy—a popular idea proposed in the 70s that remains difficult to prove.

A 3D model of the solar neighborhood

In addition to the 3D LHB model, the team compiled a list of known supernova remnants, superbubbles, and 3D dust information from the literature and created an interactive 3D model of the solar neighborhood.

Some features of the LHB could be easily appreciated from such a representation, for instance, the well-known Canis Majoris tunnel on the Galactic disk, possibly connecting the LHB to the Gum nebula or another superbubble (called GSH238+00+09), as well as dense molecular clouds (in orange) lying close to the surface of the LHB in the direction of the Galactic Center (GC).

Recent works found that these clouds possess velocities in the radial direction (away from us). The location and the velocity of the clouds could be explained if they were formed from the condensation of swept-up materials during the early stage of the LHB formation.

"Another interesting fact is that the sun must have entered the LHB a few million years ago, a short time compared to the age of the sun, remarked Gabriele Ponti, a co-author of this work. "It is purely coincidental that the sun seems to occupy a relatively central position in the LHB as we continuously move through the Milky Way."

TOP IMAGE: 3D structure of the LHB with colours indicating its temperature. The two surfaces indicate the measurement uncertainty of the LHB extent: the most probable extent most likely lies between the two. The location of the Sun and a sphere of 100 parsec radius are marked for comparison. Credit: Michael Yeung / MPE

CENTRE IMAGE: 3D model of the solar neighborhood. The color bar represents the temperature of the LHB as colored on the LHB surface. The direction of the Galactic Center (GC) and Galactic North (N) is shown in the bottom right. Credit: Michael Yeung / MPE

LOWER IMAGE: Temperature map of the LHB in the western Galactic hemisphere in zenithal equal-area projection. The high-latitude region in the northern and southern hemispheres exhibits a clear temperature dichotomy. Credit: Michael Yeung / MPE

[aleatus177]

OC’s!??!?!?! WHAAAAAT 🤯🤯🤯

what could have possibly have happened to me for that I, me, the one who has never had and OC now has not one but THREE OC’s

well because its not other than a self insert OC in The Avatar Last Airbender world… i call it self insert because i imagine myself as them, with some similar traits, like abilities, family and ideologies but just that, our personality, mental and physical capacity, and social skill are waaaaaaaayyy different

One is a Firebender whose his dad is Fire Nation and mom Earth Kingdom, BUT THEY LOVE EACHOTHER, so when someone from the Fire Nation found out his dad married an Earth Kingdom woman they killed him and sent his poor child to war, but stuff happened blah blah blah Lu Ten dies blah blah blah travels with Iroh blah blah lives in Omashu with Bumi blah blah meets Gaang and travels with them, and ohhhh hehehehehe there’s gonna be so much angst and death 😼😼

and the other one is a Waterbender who was exiled from the Northern Tribe cus he played with someone’s blood (not really, poor guy was as scared as the one being bloodbended) so the Water Tribe saw that as big freaking red flag and sent him somewhere on the North Pole to die, tho he was already a pain in the ass because he didn’t agree with their traditions and was having a hard time following the rules, but then Aang and the others found him living happily in his house in the middle of nowhere, where he can do whatever he wants with no one to tell him what to do ☺️

BUT ANYWAYYYSS LIVING SELF INSERTS BEHIND

I made an OC whose world is NOT the one from a serie/videogame/book i like

so he 100% was created by your one and only me

Tho his worlds its not finished, this little fella is half bat half human (Do not ask how that is possible), HE IS NOT A VAMPIRE, calling people like him that is a super racist move

I actually feel really nervous about making this blog because i feel someone will make fun of me making a self insert…

[legacieswcrp]

LORE DROP: THE PATRON OF MEDICINE

Before Chicory brought her Fallen and their terrifying ritual to bear upon StormClan, before Rotstar reinstated the Law of the Land, StormClan cats traveled freely as they pleased, some covering great distances in the spirit of their nomadic ancestry. In these wayfaring days between the Fallen's expulsion and Antlerstar's migration, the Clan made a reputation for itself as a meddling power in the Tallrock territories, medics especially prone to embarking on far-flung missions to help strangers and neighbors alike.

While many agree that the tale is not about her, Honeyglow was one such medic, hailed as the mother of gardens and the Patron of Medicine for the revolutionary techniques she brought back to her Clan.

Within the span between the triumphs of Snowfall and Hornbreaker and the horrors that drive Antlerstar to move the Clan away from Tallrock, the cunning Stingstar secures for StormClan moons of quiet peace. The same can not be said, however, of the cats living in Twolegplace, far to the south.

The little burg of Lislone is quiet enough for most who live there. Once a monastery, the community there is tight-knit and conservative, the people there keen to stay afloat on the fruits of their own labors where they can. The changing times have not, however, been kind to the people of Lislone, as enterprises in other places grew more lucrative and the demands for subsistence heavier in a shifting political climate. The introduction of trains - the high-speed rail to the east being what StormClan calls the Thunderpath - made life easier for some and harder for others, travel suddenly more accessible than ever before. Between the long-standing tradition of working cats and the deepening troubles of their caretakers, then, housecats facing neglect and abandonment was a growing problem. One of those cats, a tom named Hunter, thought to address it with his own claws by establishing a sanctuary, pulling his neighbors together into a community that looked after its own like the wild cats on the mountain. For a while, it worked; in the decaying walls of a long-abandoned and unfinished cinema, a project started by some hopeful artist who moved on before it was completed, Hunter and the town cats he inspired built a name for themselves as the "Cinema Club".

The Club thrived for a few seasons before the Twolegs caught on to what was happening. One report too many of kittens wandering around the theater windows, of scruffy strays scratching up would-be explorers, and before long a different order of Twolegs came to the cinema, armed with steel traps and collars appended to long poles. The Club cats couldn't have known the reasons for the invasion of their home, and the incident was remembered as only a tragedy, a punishment for daring to organize, punctuated by Hunter's name among the abductees. News of the event traveled, as it often does, and when the senior medic Honeyglow caught wind of it, she decided to do what many StormClan cats would have in those days: she packed up and went to help.

The Club had already dissolved by the time she got there. The remaining cats had scattered as soon as the coast was clear, as soon as the monsters had sped off with their friends and family inside, convinced that if they stayed at the Cinema, the Twolegs would come back for them. Of the precious few who remained was Hunter's mate, a loner named Mouse. In Hunter's absence, the remaining cinema cats turned to him, but Mouse was at a total loss; where could they possibly go?

This was where Honeyglow found them, a pawful of loyal found family seeking sanctuary wherever they could find it, never staying in one place for too long, and deeply grieving their stolen family. She became a pillar of support for them, helping them treat their wounds - though medicine was something Mouse himself had a remarkable skill with, even if the methods he used were in many ways utterly unheard of to a Clan cat - and encouraging them to try to find another sanctuary. Honeyglow spent most of her final seasons before retirement in Twolegplace, to the point some back home believed she'd joined the cats of Lislone entirely.

Mouse, Honeyglow, and their fellows put their heads together to seek a solution that would provide the cinema cats with the security they needed to rebuild, and after moons of experimenting, exploring, and debating, they settled it: if the cinema cats kept moving, the Twolegs wouldn't have the chance to come after them again. From there the task became a matter of scoping out the camps and hide-aways they would rotate between - the cinema on the east side, the disused park to the northeast, the scrapyard to the south, and a decaying barn in the northwest.

What came next was out of Honeyglow's aging paws, but she was deeply honored to be included. Mouse, finding his own confidence as a leader with time, championed all manner of novel strategies to make the lifestyle work. The cinema cats - park cats now - started borrowing from the Twolegs in all sorts of ways. They foraged nuts and berries to feed the birds and mice they hunted; they stripped the seeds from their medicines to plant in the ground; they pilfered all manner of tools and trinkets discarded by the Twolegs to repurpose for their homes. Honeyglow watched and marveled as they made stretchers, boiled water, started stitching their wounds. She lent her own knowledge of wildcraft where she could, but by the end of it, Honeyglow knew they didn't need her anymore.

What secured her legacy was not her part in helping the cinema cats rebuild and thrive, but in what she carried home with her. StormClan didn't take well to many of the things she'd learned by watching them in Twolegplace, but there was one practice that stuck: gardening. In the years that followed Honey's retirement and eventual passing, the green arts she had brought to her Clan made the difference between life and death, prevented permanent injuries and terrible infections for countless cats. Though it did not come until well after her time, Honeyglow was before long the name on the lips of gardeners throughout StormClan's future as they prayed for her guiding paws and nourishing touch to their crops, as they still do today.

[raitrolling]

Lap of the Gods

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

(This drabble is the third episode of the Drive to Survive series)

Revoire City was known for three things: Being an almost-exclusively highblooded city and popular location for rich socialites and celebrities alike, being home to the largest and most famous casino within Alternia’s Central region, and hosting the most prestigious race on the Formula One calendar. 

Twice a sweep, the city is transformed into a full race track, blocking off all traffic and pedestrian access so that twenty of the planet’s best drivers can compete for the highly-sought-after position on the top step of the winner’s podium. Its history spans all the way back to the very first season of racing well over a century prior, and those who have competed in the sport consider winning the Revoire City Grand Prix to be one of the biggest achievements they can aim for, second only to winning the entire championship itself. 

Motorsport fans travel across the planet to try and catch a glimpse of the race in person. Trolls rich enough to afford apartments within the city gaze down at the cars driving right past their doorstep. Those who own yachts park in the city’s marina to watch the competition from the comfort of their own luxury vessel. And those who cannot afford the journey sit glued to their television screens at home, recognising every single landmark of the track despite never being physically present.

But, in order to compete in the race, one must first complete the qualifying round. And for the Revoire City GP, qualifying as high as possible has never been more important.

In the early sweeps of the championship, the cars were much lighter and smaller… But also deadlier to drive. As safety standards have improved and design choices for the vehicles focused more on perfecting the aerodynamics of the chassis, the cars have become larger and thus less suitable for Revoire’s track. Overtaking opportunities outside of pitting strategies are limited, meaning it is up to the driver to put together the perfect lap during qualifying. 

Tira had been knocked out during the second round of qualifying, his fourth Q2 exit in a row. This left Sharle as Aeon Racing’s only hope for a podium position, or perhaps even a win.

The blueblood had been wheeled into Aeon Racing’s pit garage after banking the initial qualifying lap, currently sitting at a decent but not desirable fifth place. He needed something on the board in case another driver crashed out and ended the session early, which was something to always be wary of in Revoire City. The circuit’s barriers were close to the track with few run-off areas, meaning that yellow or red flags during any session were highly likely.

Sharle continued to sit in the car as the mechanics swapped his used soft tyres for a fresh pair, analysing the data on the screens ahead of him. At the same time, his race engineer Prozit communicated to him via the radio, while the indigoblood sat on the pit wall.

“Your sector three is down five tenths to Komaii, but your sector one is up two. If we can put that final sector together, we have a good chance at pole,” the engineer stated, tone calm and clear as always.

“Yep, copy,” Sharle replied, eyes glued to the screens in front of him. The data allowed him to compare his sector times to the other drivers in this qualifying session, as well as watch the live timing screen.

Xersta Komaii currently held the provisional pole position at 1:10.573, but still had his final lap to complete. It was inevitable that he was going to improve that lap on his last run, as will every driver on the track. More rubber gets laid down on the circuit from the tyres, fuel is depleted to lighten the cars and batteries recharged for extra power, and minute changes in track temperature and wind speed are certain to occur within these final four minutes.

Sharle knew he could not aim to just beat Xersta’s time, he had to destroy it.

The wait until the head mechanic could release him from the garage was agonising for the blueblood, but timing was crucial. Despite only ten cars remaining in the final qualifying, finding the perfect track position to perform a flying lap could make or break one’s chances. Excess traffic and dirty air from nearby drivers would slow Sharle down, and without the second Aeon on the track, the team could not rely on creating a slipstream to allow for the cars to tow each other to the finish.

But as Sharle’s mechanic stepped out to motion that it was clear for the car to leave the garage, and the rest of the pit crew removed the tyre blankets and data screens, the falcon troll’s reaction was almost instantaneous. He peeled out of the garage, travelling down the pit lane and onto the track to start his out-lap.

By now, he only had about two and a half minutes to warm up his fresh tyres and assess the track conditions. While other cars around him were completing their flying laps, he drove off the racing line, making sure to maintain the same distance between the cars on their out-laps ahead of him to ensure he didn’t get caught in their traffic. 

An average flying lap of Revoire City was around 1:11. He was safe to take it slowly and get into the zone.

Remember what they discussed in the garage. The turns he can shave some tenths of a second off, the sectors he was lacking in compared to his main rival. Sharle’s heart was racing, but he kept his breathing steady. It was important to maintain a specific rhythm, holding his breath during the high g-force corners and releasing upon the exit of every turn. Even something so small as the rise and fall of his chest could affect his handling of the vehicle, especially at the speeds a Formula One car is capable of reaching.

The conditions felt right. The fuel load in the car was as light as it could be. The grip on the tyres felt good and the brakes were balanced. Sharle’s head felt almost eerily cool. He was ready.

He crossed the line with only two seconds left on the clock to spare, reaching full speed as he began his flying lap. It was now or never. He only had one chance to put together the perfect lap.

The first three turns breezed by quickly - the historic subjuggulator church at Sainte Devote, the uphill climb at Beau Rivage, then the long left-handed turn known as Massenet corner. The street circuit was tight and technical, but the first sector was probably the easiest section with its long curving roads with slight right-handed bends. Had he not been as focused, Sharle might have reminisced about the time he took his matesprit around the track, pointing out those exact landmarks which make the circuit so iconic. 

The second sector was where he really needed to start concentrating. The track descends down the hill, through the car park of the famous Revoire Casino and into the Mirabeau corners. Hivestem apartments had replaced the long-since-demolished hotel of which the corners were named after, their balconies loaded with trolls relishing in having the best seats to view the track. The blueblood kept his head down and his gaze firmly ahead as he drove past them, trying to not get distracted by the waving banners and cheers barely-audible over the car’s engine. The best racing line required him to skim as close to the side walls as possible, and with the sudden shift into the slow corners of the upcoming turns many drivers have made race-ending mistakes in this section.

The sixth turn of the circuit, known only as the Hairpin, is the slowest corner of the entire F1 calendar. As Sharle braked all the way from over 120km/h to 45km/h to make that left-handed hairpin, he thanked his lucky stars that none of the cars ahead of him had misjudged the turns and blocked the track. He could pick up the pace slightly as he approached the second Mirabeau corner, and once those three tight turns were completed, he was free to race once more.

The worst part of the track was finally over, but Sharle could not relax yet. He was only a few turns into the second sector.

“18.642 seconds, sector one,” Prozit repeated his time back to him on the radio so he could keep track. The call was somewhat delayed, but the blueblood knew that he was on a good pace.

A right-hand down through Portier corner, where Sharle was greeted by the sea off to his left and the famous long stretch of tunnel ahead of him, the only track on the calendar with such features. He had once taken too much speed into this corner and smacked the back of his car into the barrier, but this time no such mistake was made. As the road slightly meandered around a right-handed bend, he slammed down on the accelerator and picked up the pace.

He barely registered the two cars driving off the racing line as he soared through the tunnel, a Laudi and the Zaxium on their cooldown lap. He didn’t need any distractions.

Harsh moonlight flooded his vision as he exited the tunnel, rendering the entrance into the Nouvelle Chicane an almost blind one. He operated on pure muscle memory from sweeps spent training on-track and in the virtual simulator as it took precious milliseconds for his eyes to readjust to the changed lighting.

The car took a slight amount of kerb over the chicane more than he had intended, causing a less than perfect entrance into Tabac corner, and Sharle cursed to himself under his breath.

Stay calm, stay calm. He knows this circuit. He lives and breathes this circuit. Focus on nothing but the turns ahead of him and keeping his breathing steady.

Through the Swimming Pool sections - a chicane, a short straight down the main harbour, and a second chicane back onto the streets of Revoire City. There was no hesitation from Sharle as he angled the car to ride over the edges of the kerbs, hearing the rumble of the rubber against the grippier cement. The second chicane had a somewhat harsher angle, requiring him to slow down and tilt the steering wheel full lock to line up beside the barrier to maintain the racing line, before returning to the higher gear.

“Sector two, three tenths to Komaii.” Prozit calmly explained over the radio.

Three tenths. Sharle had to find three more tenths of a second in the remaining two turns, the most technical part of the track. Every moment counted. 

The fastest way through was to drive full-tilt through every single corner, aiming as close to every single barrier as possible without touching any, but it was also the riskiest strategy. One mistake and he could clip a wall - or worse, lose control and skid straight into a barrier, costing him the entire weekend in a single second.

Sharle nodded to himself. He knew what to do. 

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as he went full throttle down the exit of the Swimming Pool, and full commitment into maintaining the tightest racing line possible. He was but a hair’s breadth away from the barrier as he drove in towards La Rascasse corner, then crossed over to the opposite side of the track in order to line up his car and hit the perfect apex. The car just barely scraped by the barrier of La Rascasse’s right-hand turn, as again the steering wheel was in full lock to make that exit.

Those watching from the grandstands may have wondered if the car was on rails with the way it so easily carved a path through the corners, with little to no margin for error. The driver of the Aeon appeared to be completely synced with the car, breathing heavily yet in perfect rhythm to match to constant shifting g-forces from switching between brake and throttle. 

A few minor corrections to the steering wheel were made as he went full throttle and soared through the final S-Bend corner, driving like a man possessed. He rode as close to the barriers as he could, keeping to that racing line with almost machine-line precision, thinking of nothing but the exact moments he needed to adjust his foot on the pedals and listening to the sound of his own heartbeat roaring in his chest, keeping in time with telemetry of the car.

Upon the final exit, the right front tyre barely kissed the side of the barrier. A move that would cost him a few hundredths of a second, but he did not dare to waste any time correcting the steering wheel or assessing the potential damage. Not when he was so close to the end.

All that stood between him and a potential pole position was the main straight. 

The exit of the Antony Noghès S-Bend was the only zone on the entire circuit where the Drag Reduction System can be activated, allowing for those precious few extra tenths of speed to be gained. Sharle pressed down hard on the DRS button on the steering wheel and planted the accelerator to the floor with his foot. The flap on the rear wing opened up, increasing the amount of aerodynamic air flow the car can handle. The blueblood stared straight ahead and did not dare to breathe, as even the slightest movement could affect the car’s handling, his hands gripped the steering wheel stock-straight, and-  

The chequered flag was nothing but a blur of black and white as he flew past the finish line, and when the car passed through the sensors, his name shot up the scoreboard.

1:10.159

The crowds in the grandstands leap to their feet in wild applause. The mechanics in Aeon Racing’s garage exploded into enthusiastic cheers, hugs, and fist pumps. Engineers belonging to rival teams stare agape at the last entry that appeared on their timing screens. Even the commentators are speechless for a few moments.

Sharle could not hear the cheers of the crowd as he continued around the track for the cool down lap, but he could see fans jumping up and down and waving. He took a hand off the steering wheel to return the gesture, unaware of exactly what had hyped everyone up until the radio crackled to life with his engineer’s calm voice.

“Okay, Sharle. That is a P1 start for you, we have pole position for the race. Congratulations, you’ve broken the course record for the fastest lap.”

For a moment, Sharle thought his heart was racing too heavily in his ears from the adrenaline that he didn’t hear correctly.

“Er, huh? What was that?” He replied, incredulous. He knew his lap was good, and he’d given it everything he had, but-

On the pit wall, Prozit cracked the rarest hint of a smile.

“I repeat - Pole position and a course record. You’ve done it Sharle, we’re all so proud of you.”

The words stunned the blueblood so much he almost drove straight into the barrier.

“Oh- Oh, my god. Oh my god? Are you serious? Did we do that??” Sharle’s voice becomes progressively louder as the words properly sink into his head, and all the adrenaline flowing through his veins feels unable to be contained any longer. Underneath his helmet, he is grinning practically ear to ear, and his eyes are filled with manic excitement.

“LET’S FUCKING GO!! WOOOOO!!!!”

The sheer power behind his scream of pure elation peaked his microphone into distorted incomprehensibility for the television audiences listening at home, but the bout of joyous laughter that followed could be understood by all.

He’d done it. He’d conquered the track that he called home. It was as if every second spent behind the wheel had led to the exact moment, cruising down the last few turns of the track to wave to the crowds and park his car on the number 1 position on the grid. He had started on pole for quite a number of races before, but here - in historic Revoire City - the victory felt like nothing he could ever describe. It was pure magic.

Sharle had completed the hardest part of the Grand Prix and came out of it a record holder. Now the team will have to pull out all the stops for tomorrow’s race to ensure their driver is crowned the champion.

[f1]

Alonso thrilled his bet on Aston Martin paid off with fifth on grid for first race | 2023 Bahrain Grand Prix

Fernando Alonso described qualifying fifth on the grid for his debut with Aston Martin as “unreal” after joining the team for 2023. He set the quickest time in the second and third practice sessions and was been tipped by many of his rivals as a genuine contender for pole. Despite qualifying behind both Red Bulls and Ferraris, Alonso says he was still delighted with the result in his first qualifying session with the team. “It was amazing,” he said. “I mean, the whole weekend has been unreal for us. “It was like too good to be true every session and every performance of the car. And then in qualifying, our expectation was to be around half a second from Red Bull and I think we are half a second or six tenths from pole position. So it was quite right.” Qualifying has confirmed that Aston Martin’s pace is genuine, Alonso says, after he could not be certain about how their performance would measure up based on testing and practice. “In practice we knew that we were around third or fifth or fourth,” he explained. “We didn’t know exactly what Ferrari was doing. For sure we were behind Red Bull, but I think it was just a couple of milliseconds always that we were in front of them, so the position looked too good. “Now there is not much more to downplay anything because this is qualifying, all in the same conditions and we are in the mix with Ferrari and Mercedes. So again, unreal.” Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free After going nearly a full decade without a race win moving between teams in a bid to chase a third world championship, Alonso admits he is not used to heading into a race feeling optimistic about his chances. “It feels so strange for me to say that we’ll start P5 and maybe we are aiming for more,” Alonso said. “We thought, to be honest, that the first three teams, they were untouchable this year with the advantage they had last year and maybe try to lead the midfield or mix in the midfield. But now we’re saying that we start P5 and maybe we fight with the Ferraris for the podium – so this is just incredible. “So let’s keep on going, let’s keep working, keep the feet on the ground and execute the race the best way possible, no mistakes, good start, good pit stops and let’s see where we are. But so far we are living a dream.” Alonso joined Aston Martin after leaving Alpine at the end of last season. He admitted he had taken a gamble in joining the Silverstone-based squad. “I don’t know even what to say, because eight months ago the project was just a bet,” he said. “But now to be race one with a completely new car, I think we need still to unlock a lot of potential.” Asked if he envisioned being able to fight for a podium in tomorrow’s race, Alonso said “let’s see.” “I mean, I’m laughing because going for a podium in race one,” he continues.” It feels, again, too good to be true. But for sure what we saw so far on our car and also historically, Aston Martin has very good tyre management. So if we have an opportunity for sure, we will take it.” Bringing the F1 news from the source RaceFans strives to bring its readers news directly from the key players in Formula 1. We are able to do this thanks in part to the generous backing of our RaceFans Supporters. By contributing £1 per month or £12 per year (or the equivalent in other currencies) you can help cover the costs involved in producing original journalism: Travelling, writing, creating, hosting, contacting and developing. We have been proudly supported by our readers for over 10 years. If you enjoy our independent coverage, please consider becoming a RaceFans Supporter today. As a bonus, all our Supporters can also browse the site ad-free. Sign up or find out more via the links below: Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free 2023 Bahrain Grand Prix Browse all 2023 Bahrain Grand Prix articles via RaceFans - Independent Motorsport Coverage https://www.racefans.net/

[mckitterick]

Yes to all this!

Speculative fiction requires the audience's willing suspension of disbelief to work. As soon as a reader / viewer is pulled out of the narrative to say "I don't think so," it begins to fail.

Science fiction (especially the variety that sits at the hard-science / engineering pole of the spectrum) has much greater demands on the writer to show how we get there from here. If we pick up a hard-SF story about something novel, we need to believe it could be a thing to not get distracted by that novum. Science fiction is realistic fiction that includes realistic changes from the here-and-now - Arthur C Clarke called SF "the only realistic fiction," because it accounts for change whereas mainstream fiction assumes things do not fundamentally change.

Star Trek (and much other space opera) gets away with using phrases that sound science-ey but aren't necessarily realistic because we all know its tropes by now: warp drive, artificial intelligence, hyperspace, plasma cannons, aliens, deflector shields, ringworlds, time travel - these are all things audiences are familiar with after a century of seeing them in SF narratives, so such narratives don't require much to get the audience on board with the whole willing suspension of disbelief thing.

In fantasy, the author needs to make their world believable and internally consistent, but it doesn't need to work in our world. We don't need to know how we get there from here (in portal fantasies, for example, we need to see the doorway, but that's really it). As long as we understand that the magic or whatever other fantastic elements in your story do work in the narrative's world - and they can be wildly different from ours! - the fantasy audience is willing to suspend their disbelief.

Magical realism and surrealist fiction are often particular blends of fantasy and the mundane world around us. Its audience is more willing to accept one unlikely or even impossible thing, but we don't need to know how or why. The novum just is. The unlikeliness or impossibility of the weird thing is in fact the appeal.

So when faced with the question of a walrus or fairy showing up at your door, the question becomes in what world are you imagining this situation taking place? If it's hard science fiction or other realistic fiction, you need to understand how a walrus could possibly end up at your door and ring the doorbell. If fantasy, the fairy is probably more likely than the walrus. In magical realism or surrealist fiction, either works just fine and the author needn't explain anything.

Of course, horror blows all this out of the water, because the unexpected is the source of the thrill and appeal, so a walrus is likely to be the better authorial choice - we know what they are, and if one is ringing our doorbell something has gone horribly wrong. But that's the point.

I suspect the results of that poll say more about the respondents' preferred mode of looking at the world. People who prefer to understand how we get this choice will answer differently from those who prefer the surprise, delight, or horror of the visitor.

Absolutely fascinated by the Fairy Walrus Discourse. Naturally, I have a take:

This actually is also a fantastic illustration of a truism about Telling Stories that we all implicitly know but rarely acknowledge aloud: the improbable is far less believable than the impossible.

When you invoke the impossible, you silence the critically thinking, reality checking, lie detecting circuitry. Simpler rules reign supreme.

The Walrus, however implausible, is a thing which is real, and so whatever narrative you imagine either precedes or follows the reveal will be constrained by the envelope of the possible.

This is a webbed site all about Narrative.

The person answering the door to a Fairy is in a fairy tale, and frankly most of us would be overjoyed to find ourselves in a fairy tale. Fairy tales have sensible rules, structures we understand, tropes we love and hate.

A Walrus on your doorstep is just one more giant reminder that the world is a maelstrom of chaos, incomprehensible in its complexity, full of moving parts which obey no narrative. It’s another dose of “what fresh hell is this?”

A Walrus on your doorstep is a burden. A Fairy on your doorstep is an escape.