#zenaida makes a book

[zenaidamacrouras1]

Hey another book. As noted, the lovely @hermit-writes offered a typesetting auction via @marveltrumpshate and I slew many foes to be the victor because I needed to make myself make a book.

I am very grateful they were willing to take the time to turn my longest book, Backhoe, into a beautiful file for me to print into a whole, actual book.

BEHOLD! BOOK! I made a few copies. For reasons.

It is not perfect, you all, but you can read it. I think thicker books are easier than thinner books, as far as making them look tidy? I was intimidated, but, with the major caveat that I have a lot of experience sewing by hand, it wasn't that bad sewing all the pages together.

I love this fabric. It's a woven cotton from Japan. And I made myself a little logo to put on the spine.

Y'all, I want to put that fabric in my mouth. But I didn't lick the fabric even once during production. Aren't you proud??

Please enjoy lovely typesetting by @hermit-writes

Geez, so many swear words. My kids can't read this one either. This fic is SO LONG, and also I didn't really know what I was doing as far as binding it myself and I kept asking for changes like a different font size, etc, and thanks so much for your patience!

Just, really, every page has a swear word. The little leaves dividing sections are sassafras leaves, which are one of my favorite plants, because 1. they have three kinds of leaves and all the leaf shapes are cute 2. the sticks taste kind of like root beer.

Oh, I forgot to mention that I managed to stab myself with the thing you use to make holes in the pages and got a bunch of blood on one of these copies. Who wants the copy with my blood? You are not allowed to use it to put any bad spells on me. It's not special blood, or anything. My blood does not contain any futuristic serums that can be extracted to create mutants or otherwise super powered being. It's just the regular creepy type of blood.

[unnervinglyferal]

Ok so, it’s not super interesting as it’s basically just a few dudes making confusing classification notes and another dude getting confused

But what happened was in 1731 Mark Catesby drew and described both the passenger pigeon and the mourning dove in his book, using the common name “Pigeon of passage” with the scientific name of “Palumbus migratorius” for the passenger pigeon, and the common name “Turtle of Carolina” with “Turtur carolinensis” for the mourning dove.

This is fine, this is normal, the only other thing that might come into play is that I think they were right next to each other.

Now in 1743 George Edwards writes his own book, he includes the mourning dove, but under the common name “long-tail’d dove” with the scientific name “Columba macroura”.

I am unsure why they used different scientific names.

This isn’t quite so fine, normal yes, but this will cause confusion.

The real problem comes in when fucking Carl Linnaeus, the guy who’s name you see almost every time you look at a scientific name because they but his name in little letters under it, in 1758 puts out the tenth edition of his book and merges the passenger pigeon and the mourning dove. He uses Edwards’ scientific name Columba macroura but the description was based off Catesby’s. This would’ve been normal and fine if he hadn’t merged the two species. Because then he fucking cites Edwards’ description of the mourning dove and Catesby’s description of the passenger pigeon.

This lasts for far too long in my opinion, because it doesn’t get changed until 1766 in his twelfth edition, where he drops Columba macroura completely and instead uses Columba migratoria for the passenger pigeon.

And then he does something I’m very confused by.

It does not help that the wiki article is not clear on it.

But to me it seems like he separates Catesby’s and Edwards’ mourning doves into two separate species, Columba cariolensis and Columba marginata respectively.

I do not know why, there are things called subspecies but that’s not how scientific names for subspecies work.

Now it finally, fucking finally, gets fixed in 1952 by Francis Hemming who asked the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature to make macroura the official name for the mourning dove and migratorius for the passenger pigeon. Because that’s what the original authors had intended.

It was finalized in 1955.

I’d like to note that at some point it got put into a different genus, Zenaida, I’m unsure when they got reclassified. That part is normal, animals change genus’ all the time, mainly because as we get better tools and data we realize that actually these birds aren’t related and these ones are.

Academia really does consist of people who are fixated on things nobody else even knows about, and beating the shit out of each other over it, huh?

[nikolaraftis]

In what way will Zena become powerful? 👀

Like, does she have powers of her own?

Zena does indeed have powers of her own. She has the same abilities that all Mundus Rimor have: to interact with the walls between worlds and use weak points to travel between them, as well as within a world (so, a bit like teleportation, except she and all the others can't do it like a blink in the air -- they literally have to walk/fall/jump/climb through these weak points, and they come out the other side. There's a lot more detail to this, but that can wait for the book). Mundus Rimor also have a certain skill with tracking (as you might have seen me demonstrate the start of in a draft), more in the sense that they have internal compasses and are tethered to the places of their birth which helps guide them (i.e. their own kind of true north). If magic is something that evolves in a species (well, I am my own worldbuilder, so I guess I can say it does), then this way to find home (and sometimes to track/find their own kind) is an evolutionary survival skill. But those are about the limits of that ability. I don't want Rimor to be able to track anything and everything, that just makes the powers too convenient, and there are also a number of rules for travelling between worlds, which are explained in Bones Of A God.

Because of certain decisions Zena makes throughout the series, her powers begin to manifest in a more rare fashion. The meaning of her full name, Zenaida, is a clue to that. It's not all that significant plot-wise, just something cool to look forward to!

Edit: also, most of her power is not in terms of, well, powers. These abilities are one aspect of her as a Mundus Rimor, and her eventual ability to wield weapons another, but power is also an interesting topic where Zena is concerned because, at one point, she has to cheat her way into it. More on that in the later books though ;)

[makilalatv]

Makilala TV Ep 138 | Pinay Storytellers: Empowering Children One Book at a Time

GUESTS Deirdre Levy Special Education Teacher & Author of Bodega Princess

Kathryn Serrano Filmmaker & Author of Kalayaan Filipina Heroines of World War II

HOSTS

Rachelle Ocampo , EdM (lead) Public Health Professional

Cristina Pastor Community Journalist

Produced by Manhattan Neighborhood Network (MNN) Zenaida Mendez, Director, Executive Producer Fredy Pinto, Production & Studio Manager Victor Palmos, Hair & Make-up Technical Crew: Miguel Mercedes

Cablecast Schedule: Manhattan Neighborhood Network - THURSDAY 2024 October 10

MakilalaTV Ep138 Yr12 Ep 4

[uncertainmagia]

Daily Writing Challenge, Day 2

CW: Discussion of Existential OCD and Associated Trauma

“This matches up with one of Don Saúl’s maps, bunch of underground tunnels,” said Celia suddenly. “Oh! Are you okay?”

Celia the bookstore clerk stood behind her, as if she’d been reading over Tuatara’s shoulders. That in itself was unusual—Celia avoided interactions with customers so much that Doña Salvatierra, the owner of the store, had placed a sign at cash register which read, ‘Ring doorbell for assistance.’ Tuatara felt her pain.

Tuatara was not okay, but that had little to do with the way she’d fallen off the bench outside the bookstore. She brushed herself off quickly.

“These are maps from Miyabí,” she said as she bent down and took Celia by the shoulders. “And these aren’t underground, they’re—”

Celia’s eyes flashed with recognition.

“Las Ruinas Celestiales,” finished both at once.

“You know about las Ruinas Celestiales?” Tuatara was practically bubbling. “Why didn’t you ever say so? I have sooo much to share about them, aaah, but no one ever wants to listen and now you do!”

“Aisle 32A, second floor,” said Celia, more wistful than Tuatara thought warranted. Tuatara filed that away for later consideration; other things were more urgent.

“And you said Don Saúl had similar maps? Of underground tunnels?” Tuatara started to pace. “With the tela cósmica menor in Miyabí, that might make sense. Have we talked about the telas? Oh Pescador, I have to tell you about the telas. Aaaah but I’m getting ahead of myself! I’m just so excited to talk about this with someone!” She turned to Celia. “So why were you reading about Miyabí back then? Some fancy magia university assignment? Tell me, tell me all about it!”

Celia was quiet for a long moment, as she walked to the bookstore entrance.

“Celia?”

Celia opened the door. Without looking back, she said, “No, I wasn’t assigned anything to do Miyabí.”

“Then why do you remember where the book even was?”

Celia sighed, still not facing Tuatara.

“Well, I might have spent the majority of one month in an insomniac daze reading through every book I could find on theory of the telas cósmicas.”

That sounded like her friend, as Tuatara come to think of Celia over the months visiting Doña Zenaida’s bookstore.

“…Because of a profound existential fear that I would never be able to enjoy life unless I proved to myself beyond a doubt that our world is in fact truly real and that I’m not just a brain in a jar being controlled by an evil scientist monster god and that everyone I know is actually just figment of said evil god’s manipulations, rendering all my hopes, dreams, joys, and loved ones no more significant that a child’s dolls.”

Tuatara cringed. That, sadly, also sounded like her friend.

_______________________________

Today's prompt:

[joyffree]

A year after being jilted at the altar in Scotland, Zenaida is back to face her trauma. Armed with a to-do list, she plans to reclaim her peace one check mark at a time. The tempting Scotsman with the easy laugh, adventurous spirit, and fit frame wasn’t part of her plans. He’s the perfect partner for a passionate vacation affair, which is all it can be, even if her heart wants more.

The moment he laid eyes on the American beauty, Fraser Wilson forgot about the lost bet that landed him on the river cruise. The energy between them sizzled, but the sorrow in his eyes made him proceed with caution. Stealing the broken pieces of her heart one by one, he makes it his goal to show her how a man who knows what he wants treats a woman. Can Scotland bring true love the second time around?

[twistedtummies2]

Top 20 Queens of Hearts

“I pictured to myself the Queen of Hearts as a sort of embodiment of ungovernable passion - a blind and aimless Fury.” This was Lewis Carroll’s brief description of the arch-villain Alice faces on her quest through Wonderland in the first book. The statement was given in a review entitled “Alice on the Stage,” in which Carroll both provides his feelings about a recent stage adaptation of his works, but also tells the readers about his ideas for what the characters were like in the original books, and how he came to craft them.

In the book, the Queen is undeniably the villain, but she isn’t necessarily the main antagonist; really, there is no singular antagonist in Wonderland, but the Queen comes the closest. Her presence is teased almost from the start, and as the story goes on, and we learn more about her, our anxiety and expectations grow. It’s not till the last third or so of the book that the Queen finally comes into play, but from the moment she appears, she proves to be a force of unstoppable rage, the likes of which few readers have ever seen. Carroll states that the Queen “has only one way of settling all difficulties, great or small,” and that is via execution...and it’s implied she will execute anyone, even her own children! (Yep. The Queen has kids in the book; that’s something I don’t think has made it into almost any version, or at least, not to any significant degree.) The book softens the blow at first by claiming that no one ever actually dies, because the King pardons her victims...but then it turns out the King is not above using the threat of execution himself, and does nothing to halt the Queen in later efforts, so it’s hard to tell how true that statement really is. The Queen of Hearts has become one of literature’s most iconic villainesses: her unfathomable anger and beastly temper make her a force to be reckoned with, and the illustrations featuring her are intensely dynamic. She can be humorous, but she can also be frightening, like so much else in Wonderland, and like so many great villains often are, in fact. Different adaptations and reimaginings in media and literature have reimagined the Queen in numerous ways: some make her nicer, some even make her more terrifying, and some go somewhere down the middle. You’ll find ALL sorts on the entries to come. For the next Wonderland list on my week of countdowns, it’s time for me to give Her Imperial Viciousness the credit she is owed! Now, I should state one more thing: over the years, there ahs been some confusion between the Queen of Hearts and a different character from the books, the Red Queen. They are NOT the same character, but the name is often use interchangeably, with the former often being wrongfully addressed as the latter. For the sake of this countdown, I’m going to be looking not so much at the NAME, but at the CHARACTER: if she’s called the Red Queen, but very obviously meant to be the Queen of Hearts, or even if the two names are used interchangeably but the personality remains that of the one specific figure, then she can count. Takes on the ACTUAL Red Queen from “Through the Looking-Glass” will not be featured. Having said this, allow me to present My Top 20 Portrayals of the Queen of Hearts!

20. Ronald Long, from the Hallmark Hall of Fame Production (1955). (A.K.A.: The Drag Queen of Hearts.)

19. May Robson, from the 1933 Paramount Film.

18. Teneisha Bonner, from ZooNation’s Mad Hatter’s Tea Party (2014). (I just want to say that I really LOVE this version’s costume.)

17. Zenaida Yanowsky, from the Royal Ballet Production (2011). (This one was highly inspirational when I wrote my stage version of “Alice.” Just a fun fact.)

16. Jayne Meadows, from the 1985 CBS Miniseries.

15. Catherine Pinkerton, from Heartless. (No illustration available.)

14. Cora Mills, from Once Upon a Time AND Once Upon a Time in Wonderland. (Played by Barbara Hershey (pictured) and Jennifer Koenig.)

13. Vivaldi, from Alice in the Country of Hearts. (Voiced by Yuhko Kaida.)

12. Allison Leggatt, from Jonathan Miller’s TV Play.

11. Janet Henfrey, from the 1986 BBC Miniseries.

10. Riddle Rosehearts, from Twisted Wonderland. (HE COUNTS. You all knew this guy was coming; honestly, I just feel bad for not putting him any higher. Voiced by Natsuki Hanae.)

9. Miranda Richardson, from the 1999 Hallmark TV Film.

8. Anni Long, from the American McGee’s Alice Games.

7. Armelia McQueen, from Adventures in Wonderland. 

6. Kathy Bates, from SyFy’s “alice.”

5. Helena Bonham Carter, from the Tim Burton Movies. (BUT ONLY FOR THE FIRST FILM.)

4. Karen Mason, from Wonderland.

3. Flora Robson, from the 1972 Film.

2. Aunt Redd, from The Looking-Glass Wars.

1. The Disney Version. (Originally voiced by Verna Felton.)

[idrellegames]

inquiring minds would like to know if you have any thoughts to share about the main casts' (or any other characters, since you mentioned speaking Zenaida’s lines aloud to help get her dialogue down) voices or accents? 👀

Hey hey! 

Voices are so tricky. When I talk about character voice, I mean less “who would I cast in this role” and more “what is kind of phrasing does this character typically uses? What is their typical word choice? Their speech patterns?” To me, dialogue has a rhythm and a pattern, it’s kind of like music in that way. And each character has their own rhythm and patterns. 

Accents in fantasy are also tricky. While I do describe some voices as having accents, I don’t necessarily want to evoke a specific, real-world accent because I want to avoid associations with real world countries. If I had the time and energy, I’d be creating conlangs all over the place for Wayfarer (I’m not because I am very, very, very bad at conlang) and the characters’ accents would be derived from those languages. 

So, instead my goal when describing voices is to leave guide the reader towards certain tones and tempos and they can attach whatever accent they want to the character when they read their dialogue. I answered an ask similar to this a few months ago and I think I mentioned that when I read, I tend to assign a Canadian accent to most characters because that’s my natural accent and it’s how my brain reads things (nothing throws me out of a book faster than an author transcribing an accent into text, that is one of my biggest pet peeves).   

That being said, imagining what kind of real world voice could voice the characters is fun, so I went on a voice claim deep dive tonight and this is what I rustled up. These are general impressions (when I’m writing many of the characters remind me of theatre actors I’ve worked with in the past, but I’m not about to go give them a public shout out). 😂

Under the cut for length:

AERAN

He has a smooth voice that almost always has some kind of sarcastic tinge to it. It’s playful, but with an edge. I’ve mentioned this before, but I think Alejandro Saab’s work as Yuri in Fire Emblem: Three Houses comes pretty close. 

Sample 1

Sample 2 (spoilers for FE3H post-time skip, but nothing major!)

ALEXIA

She has a youthful voice that carries a lot of tension and emotional trauma. There’s always some kind of strain when she talks, like she’s trying too hard. It’s difficult for her to relax and be herself, she always has to be perfect and get things right. 

This sample is of Casie Platt’s performance as Shallan in Graphic Audio’s audio book adaptation of The Words of Radiance (Brandon Sanderson)

Sample 1   

REN

He doesn’t talk a lot. When he does, it’s pretty blunt. People don’t realize he’s making a joke when he makes a joke. I don’t know why, but there’s something about Cody Christian’s performance as Cloud in Final Fantasy VII Remake that reminds me of Ren. Probably the “I have a traumatic past that I will not talk about and can we please just get on with things” vibe. 

Sample 1

CALLA

Calla’s voice is gruff without being deep. She has a worldly, easy-going yet easily annoyed veneer to the way she speaks. She’s lived over 100 years at this point and she’s seen a lot of things. I’ve mentioned this voice claim before, but I think Kari Wahlgreen’s Aranea Highwind voice from Final Fantasy XV gets pretty close:

Sample 1 

MELCHIOR

Mel has a very fluid voice, like there’s a rolling rhythm and flow to it. His phrasing is easy and natural and there’s always a bit of flamboyance to it. Honestly, I think Taliesin Jaffe’s Mollymauk voice gets pretty close to Mel (though I know some people also imagine him sounding like Jonathan Groff after I mentioned Mel gets his name from Melchior Gabor in Spring Awakening)

Sample 1 

NELANI

Nelani’s an ambassador. While she’s a bit more soft spoken then the voice claim I sourced, she has a presence and eloquence about her. You believe she knows what she’s talking about and you trust what she says. Elizabeth Maxwell’s Lady Urbosa voice in Breath of the Wild kind of reminds me of Nelani. 

Sample 1

FELIX

Felix is the youngest member of the core cast (he’s 21). He’s young and he’s struggling with a lot of things. He pushes down things he’s not prepared to deal with and those feelings are always just... simmering, right below the surface. Aaron Dismuke’s Oscar Pine in RWBY reminds me a bit of Felix. 

Sample 1 

VARYN

She is calm, collected, in control. Her facade never breaks. She’s has a culture and refinement from her years associating with nobles and aristocrats, so she’s often wordier than Cenric and Sero and her words flow very easily. Jen Taylor’s voice reminds me of Varyn. 

Sample 1 (RWBY, spoilers vol 1-3)

CENRIC

Cenric is gruff and blunt, but there’s a fatherly kindness behind all of it. Honestly, he’s the same character trope as Vesemir and William Roberts’ performance in The Witcher 3 sounds a lot like how I imagine Cenric’s voice. 

Sample 1  

SERO

Sero is dangerous. There’s a theatricality imbued in the way they go about the world, but there is danger, too. They have the kind of voice that you’d like to say is friendly, but you know that it isn’t. There is a fluidity to the way they speak, but always with an edge.  

It was very, very difficult to pin down an example for their voice. I can’t find what I hear in my head. I was also trying really hard to find samples from black, non-binary voice actors, but I couldn’t find anything that felt like Sero. There are two voice actors who remind me of different facets of Sero. Debra Williams has this wonderful theatrical energy about her, especially in the way she phrases her lines. And Lance Reddick has a very powerful, intelligent and intimidating presence in many of his roles. I feel like Sero would be a combination of the two:

Sample 1 (Debra Williams, The Outer Worlds)

Sample 2 (Lance Reddick, Horizon: Zero Dawn)

ZENAIDA

Zenaida is in control. She is dangerous. Even though she says she isn’t a politician, she knows how the play the game. She has been trained to command with her words alone; words are as powerful a weapon for her as her magic. There’s a presence in the way that she speaks. While I wouldn’t say she and Yennefer are similar archetypes, I can definitely see hear shades of Anya Chalotra’s Yennefer in Zenaida:

Sample 1

MALSARA & NOVA MARKAL

They are twins, so they have very similar voices, though once you spend enough time with them you’ll be able to spot the differences. They’re both intense women, albeit in different ways, and--similar to Zenaida and Varyn--they have been trained to use words as weapons. There’s a really powerful energy from Elizabeth Grullon’s performance as Trilla Suduri in Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order and it reminds me of both of them. 

Sample 1

[sokovian-imagines]

Proper Family  Child!Reader x Avengers

Warnings: None I think? Summary: After years of only theorizing about your past, you finally meet your mother. Word Count: 1595

A/N: Hi! It’s been a little while but here’s a request!

You never knew a lot about your past. You were put up for adoption around seven years old; you only remember bits and pieces. You remember a place called The Red Room, you remember people trying to train you for reasons you don't know, but one day, they just dumped you at an orphanage. You also remember a red-headed woman you believe to be your mother. You don't know why she gave you up, or if she even had a choice, but your past is behind you, and you'd rather just forget it.

You never really draw attention to yourself, you only have a few close friends, but not even they know about your past. Luckily, for you, a lovely couple decided to foster you until you get adopted or when you turn eighteen.

You walked down the crowded hall, keeping your head low and moving as quickly as you could.

"Y/N!" you heard someone call. You turned around and saw one of your closest friends, Alice.

Once you and Alice got to your locker, the hallway cleared out. "What's up with you? You're quiet, well, quieter than usual." Alice bumped your shoulder.

"It's nothing," you replied, stuffing books into your locker.

"Yeah, sure. Because when someone says nothing is bothering them, that actually means nothing is bothering them." Alice raised an eyebrow.

"It's just that guy Blake-" Alice interrupted you.

"What'd that dick do this time?" Alice made the agitation in her voice evident.

You sighed, "Nothing... Yet... He's just been getting to me lately. He always sees me watching the news and researching the Avengers, and says stuff like 'you can never be like them' and just douchey stuff like that."

"You don't need to be like an Avenger to be awesome!" Alice tried cheering you up.

"Yeah..." you smiled at her and went your separate ways to your classes.

You were in the back of the classroom, taking some notes. "Which Patriot leader organized the Boston Tea Party in 1773?" Mrs. Lekins asked.

"Samuel Adams... Samuel Adams..." you said in your head. Even if you knew the answer, there was no way you were going to say it out loud.

"Samuel Adams?" One kid responded.

"Correct!" Mrs. Lekins wrote it on the board.

"Yes!" you silently praised yourself.

"Attention students and teachers," A voice spoke through the intercom, "We have some visitors. They will be going from classroom to classroom. Please remain calm and in your seats. Thank you."

Whispers filled the room. Alice leaned over to you, "Who do you think it is?" She asked, and you shrugged.

The classroom door flung open, and a tall blonde man walked in, and immediately, everyone recognized him. Thor Odinson. "I am looking for a young lady-" Before Thor could finish every girl in the room raised their hands, except you. "Her name is Y/N (Y/L/N)," your eyes went wide as everyone else's looked at you.

"I think you got the wrong name. I'm no one special." you sunk lower in your seat. You hated the attention that was on you right now, especially from the God of Thunder.

"That is not true!" Thor strode towards you, "You are the daughter of Lady Natasha Romanoff!" Thor knelt in front of you. "My team and I have come to retrieve you,"

"Retrieve? What am I, a football?" you cocked an eyebrow.

Thor laughed, "You are most certainly not a football." He stood up and held a hand out, "So if you would follow me, I can take you to your mother." your eyes shot over to Alice who had a giant smile on her face.

"What are you waiting for? Go! And of course, you can come back for me." Alice chuckled.

You looked back at Thor, who was still holding his hand out, you looked at the people in your classroom. Your eyes drifted to Blake who's mouth was dropped open. You decided it was time to show him how special you really are.

You stood up, threw your bag over your shoulder, and took Thor's hand. "Excellent!" Thor walked out of the room, and you tried to keep up with the giant steps he took.

"I have obtained the girl," Thor seemed to talk through an earpiece.

"Obtained? Retrieved? Maybe I am a football..." you joked to yourself.

Thor led you out of the school where all the other Avengers were waiting. You knew all of them. Iron Man, Captain America, Hawkeye, Falcon, the twins Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, even the Winter Soldier! However, your eyes drifted to a woman; a woman with bright red hair and wearing all black. She seemed to get teary-eyed when she saw you. You couldn't place your finger on why she looked so familiar. Yes, she's Black Widow, but she just seemed more than an Avenger.

"Good job, Thor." Captain America said, "Hi," he smiled at you, "you're probably very confused right now, but we'll explain when we get back to the base if that's okay with you?" He's even as charming as you imagined. You nodded.

You looked behind you and saw all the students pressed up against the windows. The Avengers started walking towards the jumbo jet that was sitting in the grass.

You slowly started walking towards the jet, still in aw that you're going on a jet with the Avengers. THE Avengers!  You walked into the jet and looked around. You saw Tony Stark talking to Clint Barton who was flying the jet, you saw Steve Rogers, Thor, Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner, and Sam Wilson talking, then Wanda and Pietro Maximoff were talking, but you saw Natasha Romanoff just staring at you.

You awkwardly scratched your head and walked over to Steve Rogers. "Um... Mr. America-uh, I mean Rogers. Mr. Rogers?" you weren't sure what to call him, "Am I in trouble or?"

"No, no, no! You're not in trouble. I'll tell you why you're with us soon enough." He smiled; you nodded and walked away.

You took a seat on one of the chairs connected to the wall of the jet. You were fiddling with your sleeves until Natasha walked over and sat beside you. "Hey," she greeted, you smiled in response, "I know this is probably really confusing and scary, but I promise you're here for a reason." you nodded. "D-do, you know who I am?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah. You're Black Widow," you replied, but you knew that that's not what she was getting at.

She stared at you; her mouth opened like she was going to say something. "Yeah, I am..." It seemed like she was going to say something else, but decided against it. Natasha got up and walked over to where Tony and some of the others were talking.

After what felt like an eternity, the plane finally arrived at its destination.

You followed the superheroes out of the plane and into the building. Everyone was casually talking as they all headed in different directions while you stuck near Natasha as she led you through the building.

You two entered what looked like a conference room. You took a seat next to Natasha.

After a moment of silence, Natasha spoke. "I know this all must be incredibly overwhelming and confusing, but I just need you to trust me, okay?" you nodded, and she took a deep breath, "Your name is Zenaida Romanova. You were born in a training facility in Russia called the Red Room. You were trained there for around seven years before they deemed you no good enough and gave you away." Natasha looked to the floor and took another deep, shaky breath before continuing, "And I'm your mother," she looked up at you with teary eyes.

You breathed in through your nose, "I know,"

Natasha's eyes widened, "You know? How do you know?"

"Well, I always knew I was from Russia, hell, that was my first language before having to learn English. I always had terrible nightmares about this weird place; I never knew what it was. When I got older, I took an ancestry test, and my results came back with nothing. I had no history whatsoever. So, I connected some dots. I never really believed it, but it gave me some comfort in believing that I knew my backstory, even if it wasn't true, but it is, I guess, so..." you rambled.

Natasha chuckled, "You would make a great spy..." she mumbled. "Well, I just want you to know that it wasn't my choice to give you up. I fought so damn hard to try and keep you, but... They won anyway. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you while you were growing up,"

You smiled, "It's okay. You didn't have a choice plus, technically I am still growing, and you're here now,"

"You're okay with me being in your life now?" she hesitantly asked.

"Why wouldn't I? Even if you weren't my mom, you're Natasha Romanoff! The Black Widow! I mean, you're awesome!" you exclaimed, making your mom laugh.

"Come on," your mom grabbed your hand and led you out of the room.

You hurriedly walked down the halls until you came to a stop in what looked like a living room. All the Avengers were spread around the room.

"Everyone," Natasha got everyone's attention. "I'd like to introduce you all to my daughter, Y/N Zenaida Romanoff," everyone started cheering and clapping, happy to see you two reunited once again. You smiled at your mom as she pulled you into a big hug. You took in a deep breath as you enjoyed the feeling of having a proper family.

Requested by Anonymous:  Hi could you please do a Natasha x daughter reader? Where the reader is Natasha's by red room experiment but discarded and put up for adoption when she isn't good enough for them? Then years later the Avengers visit the daughters school, but the daughter has become shy due to bullying so she's too scared to talk to Natasha please? I LOVE your work, child reader x Avengers is like my life lol

[juvenilehousefinch]

Birds, Bonapartes, Biological Nomenclature

The more that I learn about the Bonaparte clan, the more I realize that the  family most famous for Napoleon I, the emperor and military genius, had connections to basically everything in the 1700s and 1800s. One shocking connection to me was that Tarrare (that hungry guy during the French Revolution who ate basically everything) worked under Alexandre de Beauharnais, who was married to a woman known as Rose Tascher de La Pagerie. After Alexandre de Beauharnais perished during the Reign of Terror, Rose remarried to a young general named Napoleon Bonaparte and adopted the name of Josephine.

Pictured above: the curl-crested aracari, photographed by Lonnie Huffman

Just as I never expected the Bonaparte clan to have a connection to the infamous hungry guy, I also never expected them to have a real impact on ornithology. It seems so out there, so disconnected from the politics and conquest that are usually associated with their name. While reading about birds in the past, I’ve frequently stumbled upon the name “Bonaparte” or “Beauharnais” (Josephine’s martial name by her first husband, and the last name of both of her children, who became instrumental in Napoleon’s securing of power throughout Europe)[1]. I always assumed that the names simply came from people wanting to honor monarchs that hailed from the Bonaparte-Beauharnais clan, as naming new species (well, new to western scientists) after monarchs was trendy during that time. One such example is the curl-crested aracari, whose scientific name is “pteroglossus beauharnaesii.” I mention this specific example because the curl-crested aracari is awesome and vastly underrated compared to better-known species in the Ramphastidae family, such as toco toucans.

I recently learned, however, that the Bonaparte family’s influence on ornithology is more than just symbolic! I decided to dig a little bit deeper into learning why the name “Bonaparte” appears so frequently in bird information, and I found out that Napoleon’s nephew and the son of his brother Lucien, Charles Lucien Bonaparte was a prominent ornithologist who was the authority on 165 genera, 203 species, and 262 subspecies. Learning about this was really cool for me because two of my primary passions in life are Napoleon and birding, and I find it really exciting that there’s this unexpected and kind of random intersection of the two.

According to the IOC World Bird List, among the species studied by Bonaparte are a subspecies of oriental turtle dove of Europe and Asia (Streptopelia orientalis erythrocephala), the blue-winged goose (Cyanochen cyanoptera) endemic to Ethiopia, and the Pel’s fishing owl (Scotopelia peli) endemic to Africa.

Pictured above: the blue-winged goose, photographed by Dick Daniels

Among Bonaparte’s notable contributions to ornithology is also his naming of the New World dove genus, Zenaida, after his wife. Bonaparte married Zénaïde Bonaparte, who was his cousin and the daughter of Joseph Bonaparte, older brother of Napoleon and Lucien Bonaparte. This was incestuous and nasty, but what can you really expect from European nobility? The Zenaida genus notably includes the Zenaida dove (the type species) and the mourning dove. Mourning doves are common where I live, and from now on, whenever I hear its iconic call of “hoo hoo hoo,” I’ll think of the Bonaparte family.

Pictured above: The mourning dove. “Dove by Almaden Lake” by Don Debold

Bonaparte also was an early supporter of John James Audubon, who was then relatively unknown as a naturalist. I would also like to note that Audubon grew up in France[2], and used a fake passport to flee to the United States so that he wouldn’t be conscripted into the Napoleonic Wars. (I can only imagine what Bonaparte must have said if/when Audubon told him, “Yeah, I came to this country as a draft dodger because I didn’t want to die in all those wars that your uncle keeps dragging us into.”) Bonaparte recommended him for the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia (now a part of Drexel University) while living in Philadelphia, where he and his wife moved after getting married so that they could be with Joseph Bonaparte, who lived in exile in the city. Unfortunately, Audubon’s bid for membership because George Ord, an ornithologist and member of the academy, disliked his style of painting. Well, George Ord isn’t the one amongst them who has become basically synonymous with ornithology and bird conservation in the United States, so evidently, Audubon got the last laugh.

On a slightly different note, a fascinating aspect of biological nomenclature that I had never considered before learning about Bonaparte was the frequency at which people named species after their own political leaders, like the afore mentioned curl-crested aracari. Now that royalty and monarchies aren’t nearly as relevant to most people’s lives as they were during the time of the Bonapartes, the trend has evolved so that people name species to honor celebrities and other pop culture icons. (Though, whereas before famous people had birds named after them, now discovery of a terrestrial vertebrate animal is uncommon enough that people only get bugs and worms unless they’re lucky.) Take, for example, Aleiodes shakirae, Aleiodes gaga, and Aleiodes colberti, wasps that are named after Shakira, Lady Gaga, and Stephen Colbert, respectively. There’s even a whole Wikipedia page dedicated to listing the creatures whose scientific names take after the Harry Potter series. (There’s a whole dinosaur named Dracorex hogwartsia, which translates to “dragon king of Hogwarts”! I’m jealous! … Also, read another book, smh.)

Anyway, anyone who complains that people are making everything political these days clearly hasn’t read their history. One of Bonaparte’s notable contributions to ornithological nomenclature was his naming of Wilson’s bird-of-paradise, whose colloquial name comes from Alexander Wilson, a prominent American ornithologist who laid the foundation for ornithology in the United States. The scientific name for Wilson’s bird-of-paradise is “cicinnurus respublica,” with respublica commonly being translated as “public affair” or “commonwealth.” Bonaparte wanted to deviate from the tradition of naming species after royalty and royalty-adjacent people, and instead honor the concept of the republic. In my opinion, this is disdain for royalty was entirely performative, given that Bonaparte was a descendant of an imperial dynasty, was a prince himself, and was afforded his privilege in life by the fact that his uncle seized power in France, installed himself as the country’s leader, and eventually crowned himself emperor.  

Pictured above: Wilson’s bird-of-paradise, photographed by Serhan Oksay

I’m always taken aback when I learn about just how connected the world was [for wealthy white men] before modern technology, and the influences that people from completely different geographical backgrounds could have on each other. It is important to acknowledge that so many of the naturalists from this time period were able to make such developments in their fields not because of their intrinsic talent as biologists and ornithologists, but also because of their immense connections and lucky circumstances that paved their way to success. Also, the “discovery” of many New World avian species wasn’t true “discovery” at all, because the indigenous people of the Americas had lived with those species for millennia. It was only “discovery” for westerners, who placed their mark of colonization on those species by naming them after rulers and other prominent western figures.

Although Bonaparte definitely had the passion to contribute so much to ornithology, he came from an incredibly powerful political dynasty that could bankroll his studies. He could travel wherever he wanted to and obtain any specimen that he wanted to obtain because of who his family was. Similarly, although Audubon certainly had a passion for birds and talent as an illustrator, he was only able to develop those skills through meeting the right people and having the generational wealth to do whatever he wanted in life. That’s not to say that every single ornithologist came from a position of wealth and power — the aforementioned Wilson, for example, was a weaver who lived in poverty in Scotland before emigrating to the United States and working as a schoolteacher. I don’t think that that makes the contributions of people like Bonaparte and Audubon less important or meaningful to the field (I’m also not an ornithologist so I don’t have that authority), but, as with most fields even today, it’s worth thinking about that the people who made these contributions reflect only the people with the access to the most resources.

NOTES: [1] Although Josephine is frequently referred to as “Josephine de Beauharnais,” she never actually went by that name during her lifetime. When she was married to Alexandre de Beauharnais, she went by Rose, and only adopted “Josephine” after having married Napoleon, because he liked the nickname. [2] Audubon was born in Haiti, where his father owned a plantation that he sold in 1789 when tensions began to rise between white slave-owning colonizers and enslaved people of African ancestry. The elder Audubon had a number of mixed-race children by a mistress who had ¼ African ancestry, but only the younger Audubon and his sister, who were both considered white, were moved to France alongside him.

[the-foxes-fangs]

Warmup fragments with Ikesen/OC’s

I’ve been behind on requests so I promised @otomediary I’d post these little warmups even though they feature my OC’s 

                                                           ***

She had thought it was the wormhole opening two months too soon as the sky split like a rent cloth on the day the warlord’s had taken her out hawking, she had been riding next to Hideyoshi who had the presence of mind to grab her horses reins as it reared and jerked away in terror, nearly unseating her. 

That same feeling, nauseating pressure, the crackle of static building to a painful roar, and the sky coming undone as Hideyoshi lifted her bodily out of the saddle and held her protectively, his arm growing tighter around her as the sounds of a massive battle rolled in as if on a wave that broke against them. She held his sleeve, heart pounding as their group bunched up, each of them peering into the midday twilight, turned ochre through a cloud of choking dust that whipped across their faces and twisted into serpentine columns, falling from the broken sky. 

And then the noise receded and they appeared, four figures riding hell for leather out of the dust, pursuing something that flashed unnaturally bright even in the haze, a massive twisting mass that reminded her of a huge crumpled thermal blanket whipping and rolling in some way that was horribly alive and malicious, and utterly silent. 

They were yelling to each other in some language she had never heard, even in her own time, women crouched low on their horses, circling it, it whatever it was. The language was unintelligible, but the urgency wasn’t. 

She saw one of them vault off her horse and into the writhing malevolence, before being immersed in a silence so complete and abrupt that for a moment she felt as if all of the sound had been excised from the world at once. The snorting and stamping of the horses and the buzz of voices started her out of the dull shock of the scene, which had seemed to expand into hours but must have taken no more than half a minute in reality, if reality could still be considered a reliable thing. She had fallen through time, and now time and space were falling around her as she clutched Hideyoshi’s hand. 

It was gone, and the dust was drawing back apparently of its own volition, revealing a placid, uninterrupted sky as it receded into the outstretched hand of the woman closest to them, and she felt that same instinct for flight as she had the night she’d arrived at Honno-ji when the two groups faced each other. 

“Hey!” Masamune thundered, wheeling his horse out, sword unsheathed, always the first to run toward a fight, “explain yourselves!” 

“Masamune, stand down.” Nobunaga said quietly, holding himself quite still and carefully observing the otherworldly invaders. 

“Be cautious my lord.” Hideyoshi said protectively. 

Ieyasu and Mitsuhide were too busy aiming their respective weapons to speak, and you could almost hear the speed of Mitsunari’s thoughts as he surveyed the scene. 

***

She was arrestingly beautiful, he thought, the tallest of the strangers with the darkest skin he’d ever seen, lithe grace in her body and fearlessness stamped into her fine features, from the graceful column of her neck, the gentle smile with no hint of timidity on her full lips to the good natured intelligence that burned in her dark eyes. 

He laid out the Go board and watched her pad silently about the Tenshu, hands held behind her back, taking inventory to the smallest detail as she seemed to always do. 

“Tiaret.” He said, her name heavy on his tongue. “Why is it that the others call you one thing, but you ask us to call you another?” Nobunaga asked curiously, watching the way the golden cloth of her dress seemed to gather all of the light in the room to itself. 

“I am from a place where magic is as common as water, and there’s magic in a name-- power to bind, power to break.” She answered, her voice soft and low, a trace of amusement on her face. She wore her thick curly black hair elaborately braided close to her head, with ornaments of gold and red that gave her face a warm glow even in the moonlight where she stood on the balcony. 

Of all their guests from the further shore, she was the most amiable, but he felt as if it were the disinterested amiability of a tiger looking at a falling leaf. He had never believed in the possibility of an unseen world, of anything so childish as magic, until he had seen what she could do. As every challenge ever had, she filled with him a fierce desire to capture her attention, to conquer her disinterest, and to know her. 

“And you have my name now.” He said, tapping his fingers against his cheek as he rested his chin on his hand. 

“If I wished to harm you with magic, it would be of a far more direct kind. I was elected as intermediary to maintain some semblance of peace while we’re here, not as an assassin.” She said, with an elegant gesture of dismissal. 

“I have seen it, and I still cannot grasp the nature of magic.” He replied, searching her untroubled face. 

She seated herself elegantly across from him and studied the board thoughtfully. “It is unnatural to you, and thus beyond your grasp.” She said bluntly, but without any incivility. 

A faint scent of honey and some flower whose name was as much a mystery as hers drifted across to him, heady and soft, with the warm late summer breeze. “I commend you on your grasp of tactics, it’s rare that I am outmatched in Go.” 

“My vocation is to remember, it would be strange if I were so well acquainted with the details of so many battles and yet knew nothing of the general principles of war.” She answered with an indulgent smile as she rolled a white go piece between her slender fingers. 

***

“You have a lot of freedom for a prisoner of war,” Ieyasu said, looking askance at the unsettling wisp of a woman, sickly pale as a radish with her face framed by hair the color of an orange autumn leaf and her eyes barely a shade lighter. 

“My prison is living, but my hell is being alive to be questioned by the likes of you.” Zenaida replied acerbically as she glanced up from her reading, bitterness in her expression, distant and hard. 

“Try to be polite, Zenaida.” Tiaret said mildly from across the library, without glancing up from her book. 

“Try to be less sickeningly saintly, Sulwe.” 

The entire room seemed to seethe with cold anger, but he saw, or imagined he saw a shadow of anguish flit across her drawn features for a fraction of a moment before it dissipated. 

“Well excuse me for breathing.” He muttered. 

“Ask the gods for pardon, all I know how to do anymore is spit poison at the world that poisoned me.” Zenaida answered very softly, looking up at him with haunted eyes that said he would get no more of an apology than that. 

***

“Darling boy, you couldn’t out ride me if your life depended on it! I was just about born on the back of a horse, and I expect I’ll die there too.” Sankho said merrily, irreverent and flip, with a wildness all about her that made Masamune feel downright conventional. 

“Oh you think so? Let’s have a race then. Loser cooks dinner” He shot back amiably, watching as she made another strange dish, with a mouth watering aroma he couldn’t place at all. She had said that since she didn’t know what ingredients were safe for humans it was better that he not try it all, but his curiosity as a cook was killing him. 

Of all of them, she looked nothing like a barbarian, she could almost have passed for a resident of the castle if not for the reckless glitter in her eye, her raucous laughter and utter lack of manners that had its own kind of charm. 

He couldn’t shake his fascination with her, it was like watching a typhoon coming in knowing that it would blow you halfway to hell and still not wanting to move out of the way. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just have a duel? It would make you look more cool losing to magic, you know.” She said with a crooked smile and a daring wink. 

He grinned back at her, and felt the heat rise in his face. “And they say I’m overconfident!” 

“You’re reckless, far more reckless than a real dragon ever would be, and I’ve met a few, but I like it. There’s a little of the wild old magic in you, I think. The rest of it has gone to sleep in this world, but I feel the faintest echo from you.” She said, looking him over appraisingly.

“What does that mean?” 

“It means you should take my advice.” She said, and reached out to take hold of his chin, her eyes so dark they nearly looked like ink boring into him, into some part of him that he himself didn’t know. “Don’t let it make you cruel. It will make you feel like you can do anything, the mote that lives in you. Don’t always heed the call.”

***

“Play your hand, pretty fox.” Tura said, her voice pleasantly low, and took another drink. Mitsuhide glanced at his cards, and back at her. She was impossible to read, even for him. It was as if she could simply vanish into herself, into some stillness that held no thought or feeling. 

Her silky black hair fell down her breast in disarray, and she didn’t so much sit across from him as sprawl. But even in repose she was imposing, as tall as him or taller, with plenty of hard muscle under her curves that gave a serpentine impression. 

“My, are you in a hurry to lose, or trying to cheat while I’m distracted?” He asked, peering uselessly into her eyes, grey as ash in her angular tanned face. He fancied he could see the faint red glow of embers in their depths. 

“See, that’s why I like you. Half the fun of the game is trying to cheat each other.” She replied with a half smile softening her angular features. 

“Oh? Is that why I’m your favorite?” He asked, a little more seriously than he intended. 

She looked at him and smiled and there was a little of the wolf in her white teeth, as she laughed good humoredly. “I’d feel a little bad trying to cheat the Chatelaine or her man, but you can take it.” She drained her cup in one go. “Maybe it’s just that you haven’t got the good sense to be afraid of me.” 

The incense she always kept burning sent up a ribbon of smoke  that drifted between them and gave him the discomfiting sense that he had been there before, and had waited a long time to return. 

“I could say the same to you.” He said and filled both their cups. 

“Everything I ever feared has already come to pass.” She replied with no particular feeling. 

[zenaidamacrouras1]

I won a typesetting auction in @marveltrumpshate from the wonderful, talented, and kind to strangers when they are sorta kinda having a mini-breakdown, @hermit-writes so then I had to learn how to bind my fics.

Bookbinding is somewhat similar to quilting and fiber arts at least in that I already had a lot of the shit I needed to do it and several of the skills.

I started with Only the Good Die Young because it's short and I managed to typeset it myself using instructions by @armoredsuperheavy. Turning my fic on ao3 into something I could print felt like following a spell in a book and reading aloud latin words I didn't know, and either the spell is going to fail or I was going to summon a dragon. And then, like magic, I had a fucking book. I sewed it together. I found a bunch of hardcover books on dieting in free libraries and cut off the covers to use to make my own books. (Suck it, books about dieting. You're dead now.) I glued, and then glued some more.

Then I needed to figure out how to get a title on the cover. Because I am okay with general fuckery and failure, I bought a cricut (on election day, in lieu of booze) to cut out heat transfer vinyl and some gold iron on vinyl and fucked around till I found out. The first example is me just fucking around.

I had to fill a few extra pages so I put in pictures of the fire station that is featured in this fic. Then I figured out how to use heat transfer vinyl and made some versions that look less fuckery and more fancery. Fancy. Classy. LIKE ME. Look how fucking classy I am.

This new hobby has changed my life in that it is difficult to hide the scale of my bookbinding operation from my children. They find me interesting, mainly because they don't have access to that many people. So through their persistent questions for 8-10 hours a day over the past few weeks and them both knowing how to read (big mistake on my part, it's so inconvenient once they start reading) they now know I write Marvel fanfiction about "Steve Rogers and that Bucky Boy" as they call them.

God help me. I overheard them proudly telling their friends that over one thousand or one million people have read my secret grown up romance stories with swear words on the internet. They have threatened to look up my stories at school where I can't stop them.

They were demanding I find them individual pages of the books they can read, because they are obsessed with knowing what I'm writing. But. Y'all there are not many pages of my fics where there is not either a swear or inappropriate lusting. So. I have them on a very high shelf where they can't reach.

[doriansbutt]

after lunaris, anzo is no longer a hunter and lives with a tiny vampire clan whom he met in his early hunting days.  he’s very close to one of them, and uh. so.  here’s a fic idk.

Vincent always loved to watch Anzo sleep.  The way his long blond hair spread and tangled over his pillow, the way his long body stretched and tugged his loose shirt up revealing toned muscles and the occasional love bites from an active evening.  Vincent often found himself losing hours simply watching.

But since Anzo had returned from his business abroad, he’d been avoiding Vincent.  He’d spend all day up in his treetop studio, basking in sunlight Vincent could not touch.  When he returned to Vincent’s room for the night, he’d change clothes behind closed doors and turn from Vincent’s touch.  He’d whine in restless sleep and Vincent found himself leaving so as not to intrude on too-loud dreams Anzo could not control.

Anzo sat by lantern light in his studio, reading in the moonlight in the pile of soft pillows in the corner of the large space.  His hair was pulled back in a loose bun, stray strands falling around his face.  He held the collar of his thick sweater in his mouth, an idle habit when he focused that Vincent found endearing.  As much as he wanted to be by Anzo’s side, enjoying the calm, quiet domesticity of the scene, he stayed away.  Well, as away as he could handle.  He sat on the opposite side of the room, keeping his hands busy with knitting as he watched Anzo.  He wanted nothing more than to hold him, to sit behind him and feel Anzo’s warmth and bury his nose in his neck and--

He stopped himself before he got carried away, already salivating.  Vincent shook himself from his thoughts and focused on the Anzo of here and now, briefly startled to see he’d fallen asleep, curled up with his hand in his book to save his place.  With a gentle smile, Vincent took the book from him, setting it aside after sliding the bookmark between the pages.  He reached out to brush Anzo’s hair from his face but as soon as he touched him, Anzo flinched, whimpering softly in his sleep.

Vincent felt his chest grow tight, fear gripping his still heart.  He reached out again, slowly, nervously, carefully.  His fingers lightly brushed against Anzo’s skin and watched as Anzo curled in tighter, wrapping his arms around himself.  There was an odd purple glow from beneath his shirt and Vincent’s brow furrowed as he gently pulled the collar down to get a better look, careful not to touch Anzo’s skin.  He froze at the sight of the mark, a glowing purple rune appeared carved over Anzo’s heart. It looked painful and the way Anzo’s face twisted as Vincent’s fingers ghosted over his skin would have made his pulse race with anxiety if he had one.

Anzo snapped awake, looking up at Vincent in fear and pulling away, gripping his sweater in a tight fist.

“Anzo…”

“Vincent, what did you do?” Tears welled in his eyes and he inched away. “Why did you look?”

Vincent found himself floundering for words. “Why do you hide it? Who...who cursed you, Anzo?”

Anzo scrambled to his feet, putting as much distance between them as he could. “Why did you go looking?”

He looked so scared and Vincent, despite the voice in his head yelling at him not to, reached out and pulled Anzo into an embrace. It was instinct to want to comfort him, but as he pulled him close, Anzo screamed in pain, collapsing against Vincent. He lowered him gently onto the pile of pillows and backed away, not wanting to touch him more than he needed to. Vincent did not want to leave Anzo up here alone, but he couldn’t risk carrying him down the ladder to their cavern room himself.

He took a breath he didn’t need to steady himself and left for help, ignoring his gut telling him to go comfort Anzo.

——————

Hours later, Vincent stood at the far side of his and Anzo’s room, watching his witch friends enter and make their way to Anzo laid out on the bed.

The boy, Nominoë, studied him before looking up at Vincent. “How long as he been like this?”

“Since last night. I fear I made it worse bringing him down here…He was in such pain…” Vincent replied, shuddering at the memory. “Nemo, don’t—don’t touch him—” He flinched when the boy pulled Anzo’s shirt aside, prepared to see him in pain at touch again, but there was no response.

Nemo’s eyes widened at the sight of the mark and his twin sister beside him gasped. “Where did he get this? Vincent, where did he get this?”

Vincent shrugged, feeling tears choking him but they would not fall. “He left, he had some business somewhere, I—I don’t know…” he began pacing, running his hands through his hair. “Nemo, what is that mark?”

Nemo shook his head and moved aside for his sister to take a look. He watched her fingers dance lightly over Anzo’s chest as she studied the mark. “Amèlie thinks she knows who did this and I agree. This looks like the work of Solène.”

“Solène? Why do I know that name…?” Vincent looked taken aback as realization hit him. “Solène Zenaida? The coven that killed most of my clan? They’re still alive?”

Amèlie shook her head. “Only her.” She pressed her palm over the mark and it glowed brightly, Anzo stiffening, his face twisting in pain until she released him. “She is a wicked one.”

“Amèlie? What is it?” Vincent’s tone was concerned as he rushed to Anzo’s side. “What has she done to him?”

“It would seem Anzo killed her lover,” Nemo replied with wonder. “She didn’t take lightly to that. And, Vincent...she knows of his relationship with you.” He motioned to the mark on Anzo’s chest. “This is a lovers’ curse--and a powerful one. Your touch is like fire to him—not the fun kind. She made him suffer to be with you. She wants you both to suffer.”

“Amèlie got all that from one touch?” Vincent sighed in astonishment, looking over at her. “Can you undo the curse?”

She nodded and Nemo looked sadly up at him.  “You probably...don’t want to be here for it.  It’s going to hurt.  A lot.”  

Vincent shook his head.  “No.  This is because of me, because of my clan.  I’ll stay.” He reached out to take Anzo’s hand and stopped just before their fingers met.  “I just...want him back.”

Nemo nodded and rested a hand on Vincent’s shoulder reassuringly before helping Amèlie prepare her spell.  He stood behind her, holding her shoulders and closing his eyes and as he did, a low wind swept through the room.  Amèlie absorbed his energy and focused it through her palms pressed to Anzo’s chest.  

Vincent held his breath, fought back the lump in his throat as he stifled his emotion as he watched helplessly.  Anzo went rigid at first, but as a scream was ripped from him, he threw his head back against the pillows, his back arching and his hands balling the sheets in his fists.  Amèlie pulled the magic from him, the purple glow of the curse mingling with her and Nemo’s orange magic flowing around them.  Vincent watched tears fall down Anzo’s face, heard his cries of pain, and it took every ounce of restraint for him not to reach out to comfort him.

Finally the magic stopped, Amèlie gasped as she released her hold and leaned back against her brother.  Anzo collapsed against the mattress, trying to catch his breath, reaching out absentmindedly for Vincent’s hand.  Vincent hesitated, looking to Nemo and Amèlie for assurance.  At their nod, he climbed onto the bed and pulled Anzo into his arms, holding him tightly to his chest.  Anzo let him hold him, simply gathering his strength back in his lover’s arms.  

Vincent pressed his lips to Anzo’s temple and sighed in relief.  “You’re all right.  I have you,” he whispered.  

Anzo shuddered, suddenly shivering.  “S-sorry, I’m just--it’s cold.”  

Vincent nodded, backing away and handing him the blanket.  “Sorry I can’t help you there right now,” he replied, eyeing Nemo and Amèlie with a smirk.  They took the hint and excused themselves, gathering their things and leaving quietly.  

As soon as the door closed, Vincent was back at Anzo’s side, holding him, kissing him, relishing in every touch. “Why did you hide it?”

Anzo held his head back, letting Vincent work at his throat, preparing for the incoming bite.  “I thought I deserved it.  I--ah, Vince--I thought I could deal with it.”  Vincent’s hand slid under his shirt and he quickly removed it, throwing it gods know where.  He gasped as Vincent’s fingers traced over the now-dead rune on his chest, smiling when there was no purple light to be seen.

With a hungry growl, Vincent brought their lips together and worked his way down to Anzo’s chest, caressing him, worshipping him as he moved.  “You deserve many things, Anzo.  But that is not one of them,” he said between kisses, his voice hoarse.  

Anzo smirked and laid beneath Vincent, hands tangling in his dark curls.  “Oh?  And what do I deserve?”

Vincent straddled him, sitting up and pressing a palm to hold Anzo down.  “I’ll show you,” he replied, a glint in his eye as he flashed his fangs, hungrily eyeing his lover beneath him.

[nezoid]

I met Évelyne Brochu! 😻🙌👌💜🤙 I waited for Évelyne Brochu after “L'Idiot” on Thursday (April 12, 2018) and I was the only one who waited. She hugged me 3 separate times and blew me a kiss. We talked about how I flew in from LA that morning to see her and she said “Wow, that’s so nice! And I made you wait, I had friends visit me backstage” and hugged me. I told her “No worries” and that she was amazing and that I got this ticket cheap + got a free ticket for Saturday’s show from a Tumblr buddy, all I needed to find was a flight and a place to stay. Thankfully I was able to book a cheap flight and found a place walking distance from the theatre. Then she complimented my leather jacket and I pointed out that a bunch of the pins were of her and she said “Aw! I didn’t even notice. Oh an ‘X Company’ one” and proceeded to touch and feel lots of the pins, but stopping on the one of Cosima and Delphine and said “I really love this one!” I said “Oh yes, my fave, you and Tatiana.” And she said “Isn’t Tat the best?” I told her “Yes definitely” and that I was lucky enough to get a pic with Tatiana a few weeks ago at the “Outside In” screening and she said she hadn’t seen that movie but will check it out. We got to talking about how I got to see Tat at a couple of UCB shows because of our mutual love for the theatre and how I took pictures/gifs and Tat even posted one of my pictures to her Instagram and Évelyne said “oh what’s your name on Instagram, I’m going to have to check out your work as a photographer.” I told her that that’s very kind, but it’s just a hobby and that lead to me talk about how I’m a caregiver and that UCB and events and stuff + photography is just my outlet and fun for me. The pins reminded me of the Andy Shauf patch I got her, so I said that she had recommended Andy Shauf during an X Company interview and because of that I was found out about him was able to see him live a few days before the Orphan Black’s Paleyfest panel (he’s so good!), I was hoping to give the patch to her after the panel, but wasn’t able to, so I gave it to her on Thursday and she said “oh (something in french that I didn’t understand, but I’m pretty sure I had literal heart eyes), I’m going to put it on my jean jacket!” She asked me how I like “L'Idiot” and I embarrassingly told her that I don’t know french but I read the cliff notes and watched the movie version with English subtitles so I got what was going on. I told her I liked the fact that they break the forth wall and talk to the audience. And she was like “Yeah! I do too, I mean why not, they usually kind of make sly gestures to the audience, but never fully talk to them.” I was like “yeah it’s great to interact with the audience cause then to feed off the energy.” She said “Yeah, I agree. We had an afternoon show with a bunch of teenagers who had roaring laughter to the jokes and it made us feel like rockstars.” Then before I could chicken out I had to thank her for Delphine and that if it wasn’t for her (and Tatiana/Cosima) I wouldn’t have explored my sexuality, but then I got flustered and was like “Sorry, it’s a long story, never mind” and she said “Hey, don’t rush, it’s okay, I’m here.” 😻😻😻 So I took a breath and proceeded to tell her that because I became a caregiver for my mom, I had to drop out of school and stop working to take care of her and because of it I got depressed and lost who I was. When I found OB I was working through that and I realized I truly didn’t know who I was anymore and when Delphine said “I have never thought about bisexuality. I mean, for myself, you know?” something clicked. If it wasn’t for her and Tatiana I wouldn’t have gotten one step closer to finding who I am. She pulled me into and hug and said “Wow, thank you for sharing that with me. I’m glad for you. You and I now have this and the show, thanks to John and Graeme and everyone.” We took a selfie in the middle of all this talking and she was like “how is the light here? Hmm, no let’s go over here.” And I was like “maybe I could ask someone to take it with flash” and she said “no, a selfie is better so we are closer.” She hugged me once more and said “thank you visiting my hometown, enjoy exploring Montréal. Tomorrow should be a good day to explore cause of the weather. It’s like 10 which is nothing to you.” I said it was 90 degrees when I left LA so I’m pretty sure I’m going to get sick, but it’s worth it.“ We laughed and she said “Ok, I’m going to go sleep.” I was like “Oh yeah, of course. I’m sleepy too, I got in at like 10 AM and flew out at 11 PM from LA and on top of that I had a layover in Toronto, so I’m pretty much running on fumes.” She said “Shit, that’s why it was a cheap flight!” We laughed again and I said “but it was totally worth it.” And she said “I love it.” She said “I’ll see you Saturday” then she blew me a kiss and said “au revoir, mon cher”. I waited for Évelyne again after I saw L'Idiot for second time on Saturday (April 14, 2018). I brought her a gift (a box of chocolates from the place I had brunch and a cat toy for her cat, that I had seen while exploring the city). I apologized because I don’t know much about cats and I obvs don’t know anything about her cat. She said “Oh! That is so sweet, you are so sweet!” I told her that “They apparently just got the toy in that day and it had lasers and threw treats and stuff, so hopefully it enjoys it.” And she was like “my cat doesn’t have toys, she has been playing with like a cork thing.” And we laughed. Then I told her that the audience’s reaction was so much more outward and loud. And she was like “Oh yeah, I could feel it. You were here Thursday right? Yeah, it’s great when it’s loud like that. We were feeding it to each other.” I then asked her if we could take a picture with my camera this time. And she said “Oh yeah, maybe we can ask someone.” she instantly switched to french to ask someone. Swoon. Someone offered and she said “Oh hold on, let me take my hair down.” Proceeds to pull her hair down and shake it out and comb her fingers through it. Ugh. 🤤😻 Then we took one picture, but we blocked the way and it was a bit blurry, so we switch sides and then took it again. I went to look at the picture and Évelyne looked over and said “Are my eyes open? Oh we look great!” Then I told her if she can sign my playbill and she asked how to spell my name and she said “oh belle.” I told her the origin of my name (First 3 letters of my parent’s name put together. Dad : DIOnisio + mom : ZENaida = DIOZEN). Then I thanked her and told her I didn’t want to keep her because I knew she had two shows that night. And she said “Yeah I’m dead, we had 7 shows in 5 days” and I blurted out “Well you look great.” She giggled and said “Thank you” Then she said “Sorry the weather is bad, but I hope you are enjoying Montréal.” And I told her “I was able to sightsee yesterday at Old Montréal. Today is freezing, but it’s still gorgeous.” She said “Well that’s good.” Then she thanked me again for the gifts and hugged me while simultaneously saying in my ear “Safe travels.” Then I said “Thank you, take care.” She said “you too! Bye!” And blew me a kiss again. This is way too long, but I had such an adrenaline rush after these two shows/meetings and didn’t want to forget or miss a damn thing so I typed this all out after walking back to my hotel. L'Idiot was excellent! !!!SPOILERS!!! Évelyne played Nastasya Filipovna so well! Like Nastasya as a character flips from being a very strong/confident and falling apart. And she definitely goes back and forth A LOT and Évelyne nailed it! And it’s crazy how she gives so much by not doing much. Like when she first steps out she literally stands still, staring at the audience, for like 5 minutes as people talk about her, then slowly you see her get annoyed and then she snaps at the men. She goes from hysterical laughter to fighting and choking another character/ being choked and all in these amazing outfits (big dresses, head pieces, jewelry, etc.) I can keep going on about how amazing Évelyne, but the rest of the cast was fantastic too. There is this one scene a party scene where the light and music switch to happy dancing from dark and intense. The lighting was so magical. I haven’t seen live theatre other than low budget school productions, so this might be the norm but I was mesmerized by what the lighting did and how it changed things. Strong and talented cast. Breaking the forth wall was a great decision, really killed with humor, emotion, drama, etc. You really are with the cast as an audience member and as if you are in it with them. I loved it and was so glad I got to see it twice. And my seats were from the very left and very right, so I got like every angle of the show. Haha UPDATE: You can’t take pictures in the theatre, photos 6, 7, 8 are © Yves Renaud. Anyway, Évelyne is an angel! L'Idiot was glorious. I bought a bunch of Évelyne’s movies for cheap without having to pay shipping to LA. I also got a bunch of albums of artist from Montréal that I love, without having to pay shipping. This trip was ace. I can’t thank my Tumblr buddy enough for the free ticket and I’m so glad I was able to find a cheap flight and hotel and my dad was able to take care of my mom. Thank you universe for letting everything fall into place for such an amazing trip. 😻🙌👌💕

[dtferrando]

Another Breach in the Wall

Book

Solitude Project / 2022

This book documents and complements the main exhibition of the Beta 2022 Timișoara Architecture Biennial, curated by Daniel Tudor Munteanu and Davide Tommaso Ferrando. 

Titled 'Another Breach in the Wall', the exhibition is dedicated to loopholes: projects and actions that are capable of generating exceptional urban spaces by questioning the laws, rules and codes according to which cities are traditionally produced and inhabited. If laws, rules and codes are the invisible walls that organize our everyday life, the object of 'Another Breach in the Wall' will be the loopholes by means of which breaches are opened through these walls, making new and unexpected paths of behavior possible. These interventions are not only performed by architects and planners, but also by designers, artists, activists, eccentrics and all who – alone or in groups – adopt a creative and critical approach to the city,transforming the way in which it is inhabited. Within this frame, the aim of 'Another Breach in the Wall' is to demonstrate how urban space (the milieu where we meet, play, debate, protest, take care of each other, collaborate and much more) can be produced by anyone who is provided with the right tools and agenda. 

With texts by Daniel Tudor Munteanu, Davide Tommaso Ferrando and Giovanni Comoglio. Contributions to the texts by: A-Works (Cristian Ștefănescu); Abrupt Arhitectura; Ben Allen, James Bae, Ricardo Gomes, Shannon Harvey, Adam Michaels; Brandlhuber+ Olaf Grawert, Christopher Roth; Cristian Bădescu, Zenaida Elena Florea, Alexandru Ciobotă, Gabriel Boldiș, Laura Borotea, Olimpia Onci, Bogdan Isopescu; De Facto; Diana Marincu (Art Encounters); FAUT - Facultatea de Arhitectură și Urbanism; F O R; Grillo Vasiu; Marco Scotini; Matilde Cassani, Ignacio G. Galán, Iván L. Munuera, Joel Sanders; Stardust architects*; studioBASAR; Theo Deutinger; Viceversa; Vitamin Architects; Zeppelin, Studio Peisaj, Local Design Circle. 

Each book contains a unique sheet of stamps designed by De Facto (Jorie Horsthuis and Floor Koomen).

Credits

Authors: Davide Tommaso Ferrando, Daniel Tudor Munteanu

Edited by: Bettina Siegele

Graphic Design: Stefan Lucut

https://p-u-n-c-h.ro/misc/another-breach-in-the-wall-the-city-as-common-good/

[homosexualcolombus]

astrology through a capricorn's lens

before anyone asks, yes that title is clickbait. desperate times do call for desperate measures. my engagements flatlining effectively after posting my last blog probably classifies as a desperate time. yes, i did promise a more serious piece for my loyal readers but as you may (or may not) know, the dumb bitch gene has NOT skipped my generation which is the reason why i have accidentally formatted my sd card. what about having a backup, you ask? do i look like a noob to you? does that answer your question?

anyway,

this isn't a dig against anyone who believes in astrology, but i think it's complete horseshit. but that doesn't mean i don't worship at the foot of its temple for the sheer ingenuity behind it. let me explain:

astrology, in a nutshell, panders to us through our inherently narcissistic nature by validating vague general aspects of our personalities.

take me for example: i'm a capricorn. that doesn't mean shit to me until you relate that to the fact that as a person, i tend to overwork myself towards the goal of being an achiever. in theory, it read me pretty well... until i factor in the psychology of the fact that i'm a middle child (take that how you will but it is what it is). any person worth their salt when it comes to astrology knows that capricorns = overachievers, because that's just their established pigeonhole, the same way each sign has its own.

couple that with the fact that astrology has elements which allow for it to overlap and cross over each other and you have yourself a sizeable number of possibilities that guarantees seemingly accurate readings more than most of the timeㅡ and by "elements" i mean these things called moon, sun, ascendant, etc. what this means is that you can take these generalizations for each sign, combine it according to these elements and you have yourself at least one guaranteed personality match for any given set of people.

by demonstration, if someone's a:

capricorn sun - workaholic

pisces moon - emotional

aries rising - self-centered

so they're basically a self-centered, workaholic, emotional wreck.

sound like someone you know? of fucking course. it's annalise keating (lmao i'm kidding... not).

they say a broken clock is right twice a day, and that's a given fact. now give that same clock a hundred more hands and it's sure to tell you the correct time of day every single time. that's astrology.

another aspect of astrology which really begs for respect is in the fact that it's rooted in the mystical fanaticism of the stars. not only is it a surefire way to attract the hippies, but it also makes it that much more interesting. i don't know about you but i feel like this gives it a leg up over the other beliefs that currently exist. would you rather believe in the cosmos or some long-haired hippie deity that has multiple personality disorder? hmm the answer sure seems clear to me.

a direct effect of this aspect however, is that it makes astrology seem much less demanding, which isn't neccessarily a bad thing. i mean, let's be real, what commandments do the stars actually have for us? it's a space rock for fucks sake. if you're the type of person who looks up their horoscope regularly, you'd notice that it's actually formulaic, vague prophecies that, if you look in the right place, throws in your lucky color and number for the day and/or week. you don't exactly have to trudge through a whole brick of a book with tiny-ass letters and hope to whoever's watching that by some miracle their message hopefully shines into your mind. it's like the gospel but on fortune cookies, except the cookie is most probably a newspaper. but that doesn't make it any less convenient, which is exactly what people nowadays look for: something that cuts through the bullshit and straight to the point. perks of having an entire belief based on inanimate objects, dare i say? (yay space paganism!)

now if you're at this point and you're wondering: "would it do me good to unsubscribe to this school of thought?", i'm gonna tell you straight up not to. because:

a. like any religion, astrology was born out of people's inherent need to believe in something bigger than themselves to help them feel less out of their depth in this massive fucken world and;

b. i'm a hypocrite who has co-star installed on their phone so nothing i've said above holds any weight whatsoever.

i'm not trying to police anyone's belief here.

anything is possible within the realm of possibility. i mean who knows, maybe god indeed is a woman... and her name? zenaida seva.